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sweetnans · 2 months ago

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Stuck in the moment || Bakugo, K. (pt.7)

Pairing: fuckboy Bakugo/hopelessly romantic fem. reader

summary: You made a mistake, a huge mistake. You fucked the most cocky, annoying, bastard, fuckboy you knew. Bakugo Katsuki. And that fact was against all your beliefs. Now, after the rumor (truth) spread like a pandemic virus in college you'll have to live with the stormy consequences of your acts and whatever trash was brought with it.

a/c: Hey, it's me again. Here we are in a new series I plan to continue. I really hope you enjoy it. I put my favorite man in action (bakugo) being a selfish bastard that you would love eventually and I couldn't help to put another "trope" I'm a sucker for (guardian/father figure Aizawa) I'm so sorry if that bothers you. Once again, I'm sorry if I misspelled something, English is not my first language. (Not proofread yet)

Smut ahead, minors do not interact

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6♡

m.list

The date with Todoroki was breathing inches away from your neck, and your ankle was far away from being completely healed. Recovery girl was making all her efforts to put it back in place, but the swell and the red were difficulting the process.

"Tell me you can fix this," you begged to the woman.

"Don't worry, I'll have it done before you know it, lay down and relax, it'll make it easier" She said smiling warmly at your state.

You slept the equivalent of four hours in the span of two days. You were beat, so the sentence lay down and relax was sent from heaven.

You did lay down and relax for six hours, and when you woke up, your ankle was wrapped in bandages and a certain someone was by your side.

"How was the date?" He asked.

"There's no respect anymore, I just opened my eyes," you joked, stretching your arm for a glass of water that you knew Recovery Girl left in the table. He grabbed the glass and handed it to you. "Thanks"

"So?" He was eager to know.

"Well, aside from my ankle, it was pretty nice. He behaved like a gentleman if that's what concerns you. " You gulped the water down your sore throat.

Aizawa watched you carefully. Since almost 5 years, he turned from teacher to a father, but it was a daily challenge mantain two young girls that were in different stages in their life.

"Mrs. Bakugo called me to congratulate me for having a really nice and well-mannered daughter. I know she wasn't talking about the unhinged teenager busting my windows with indie music. " He smirked playfully, and you rolled your eyes.

"That's odd," you said, accommodating yourself in the bed. "Since when does she prefer indie music?"

"Nice try on making me forget about the elephant in the room," he stated, leaning on his chair a bit. "So, are you going to tell me what happened? Or do I have to find out from someone else, like when Mrs. Bakugo told me that my daughter sprained her ankle at her party?"

"There's nothing to explain, actually. We were about to go home when a slow dance crossed in front of us, so he said hey one last dance? And I said yeah, why not? And then tragedy, " you puked your words out.

"Yeah, that matches the description" he hummed in response.

"What description?"

Talking to Aizawa was always so cryptic. You just had six hours of sleep. Your head fetl like a feather, and he started to play around with hidden clues and schemes of secrets.

"Oh, before I forget, your phone is off, Bakugo started calling non-stop, and he was getting in my nerves,"

He said like he was parting ways, but he didn't lift or move a single muscle to get up of his seat. It was a trap.

"Why didn't you pick up?" You asked fetching your phone to turn it on. Jirou would definitely be there with hundreds of texts unanswered.

"Oh, I didn't have the chance before he appeared at the door," he shrugged, pointing at his back with his thumb

You were so mesmerized by the logo of your phone and disoriented that you felt like you didn't catch exactly what he said.

"Come again?" You squinted your eyes at him. "What did you just say?"

"Bakugo and me had a very pleasant chat"

Oh, he was enjoying your suffering. What was happening to the world that all of a sudden, it was the funniest thing to mess up with you?

"You didn't," you said at the same time that he was nodding.

According to what he said, when he saw you in the dress the day before, you were actually pissing yourself to know, but the thought of it came with an immeasurable amount of denial. What could they have talked about? Did you or did you not want to know?

"Relax," he said, stopping the cartwheels in your head. "He told me how it happened." he glanced at your now normal ankle. "And that he was very sorry that he couldn't stop it. That's why I said it matched the description, what you said, and what he said, but do you know what doesn't match the description?"

You were almost afraid to ask. He had his purpose, and you led him exactly where he wanted you. Being a parent wasn't easy, but Aizawa knew damn well how to play his cards when it came to his daughters.

You looked at him, waiting for him to continue the interrogation. He sighed defeated.

"Eri told me about your date with Todoroki, I thought that maybe she was confused, but then I realized when Bakugo told me that he invited you at the last minute, that there wasn't any chance for Eri to know that piece of information even as nosy as she is"

Busted.

After what Jirou said that morning and with Aizawa looking at you, not with disappointment eyes, more like with I don't understand eyes is that you realized that you were in fact betraying at yourself.

You wouldn't lie. Last night, you were just a twisted ankle away to kiss him.

You were madly in love with the concept of love, and even though all this Bakugo mess started like a mistake, it suddenly evolved to something else. You were catching feelings for the bastard. And you couldn't deny it anymore.

He also played his cards very well, being the stubborn asshole who eagerly wanted to get to know you to the point of pushing you out of your comfort zone to in fact, have a good time to him. The one night stand was surely a mistake, your first time doing something so reckless and so unlike you. You wanted to get rid of him because he was the walking reminder of something that didn't describe you at all, but then he turned it in a way you didn't see coming.

Does he feel the same for you? Doubtful. It wasn't a secret that he was used to those encounters you wanted to avoid. The adamant behavior of getting your attention was just the ego boost he needed after you completely flicked him off.

You liked him. As a friend and with real and not so friendly feelings, but you weren't sure that his acts towards you had the same meaning.

"I know what you're thinking, and you're totally right," you said. There was nothing to be ashamed of exploring your options. Todoroki was hot. He was kind, but you had your mind wrapped around another man, and it wasn't fair for him.

"I mean, he's a nice guy, but after my secret conversation with Bakugo, it seems he's not playing around when It comes to you"

You rolled your eyes, and his brows furrowed.

"Just because he wanted to be heroic doesn't mean he's into me. Isn't that the purpose of this school? Acting like heroes when someone is in distress?"

"Yes, it is, but believe, calling the victim twenty times in one hour doesn't seem like the school purpose to me"

Oh, the world was ending. He was delusional too.

"He felt guilty because he handed me the heels," you murmured, trying to convince him and yourself that he wasn't into you that way.

"I'm just pointing at the facts," he stated, smacking his palms on his knees. "About the Todoroki date, are you sure you want to go in that state? You can always say I didn't let you go"

That state had different meanings. One of them was about the now normal but partly healed ankle, and the other was about your train of emotions that was ready to crash.

Dadzawa always setting the bar higher and breaking the daddy issues.

"It's okay. I can't leave him hanging, and besides, I can always turn a romantic date to something completely platonic. I'll give it another try when I get hold of my feelings again, " you smiled through the tumultuous feeling of something breaking slowly inside of you.

You were stuck. Stuck in the moment where you don't know what to do with your feelings, and also, you don't want to hurt somebody else for the sake of it.

...

Bakugo had a rough night. He woke up several times at night wondering of your state. He paced through his bedroom, feeling extremely guilty for not taking you straight to the emergency room. At the first light, he started texting you. The double check stared at him but never changed its colors. Shit.

He started calling after it. The first times the waiting tone received him and made him curse under his breath, and then after what it felt like the twentieth time, the call didn't even get past the first beep. Disconnected.

That was the sign he needed to get his jacket, put on some trousers and go to your room.

"Oh my god, stop it," Jirou spoke through the cloaed door inside, annoyed with the loud knocking that reverberated in the hallway. "What do you want?" She said before realizing that Bakugo was in front of her.

"Where is she?" He asked, gasping for air. He ran from his building to yours and took the stairs in both of them.

Jirou was visibly asleep before he came. She had a lousy shirt and she was barefooted.

"Uhm I took her to recovery girl, and she swore that she would be fine," she said, glaring at the windows. "But now that you mention it, what time is it?"

"It's almost nine," he said, grabbing his phone to check the clock.

"Jeez, I took her at six this morning. She hadn't texted you?"

Jirou walked inside the door, and Bakugo followed. Your bed was made, and there were wrinkles on the duvet. He realized that you didn't catch an eye last night and felt guiltier than ever.

"She didn't text me either"

The state of Jirou was the same as you. Barely three hours of sleep did its damage on her face, and the bags under her eyes were really showing it.

"Don't worry, I'll go check on her, and I'll text you. Go back to sleep ears. " He threw the nickname to level the kindness so unlike him.

Jirou raised her eyebrows at him, very surprised and now surely convinced on what team she was.

The way to the infirmary was long enough to gather his thoughts about you, what to say, and how to approach the fact that you almost kissed last night. He was head over heels over you, and even though he was known to be a full player who liked to mess around with chicks, the gossip about it wasn't totally like that. He never had the need to dissipate the rumors because he realized that if he'd say something about everything that people invented about him he would spend all his college years trying and convincing the people to believe him and that wasn't who he was. He acted by instinct, he made the rules, and he would never follow a bunch of assholes who got nothing better to do than to spread useless information about him.

He never felt the urge to see someone in a desperate way that he was feeling at that moment. He was basically running to get to you through the crowded hallways, bumping into people's shoulders.

How did this happen? A week ago, you were just a pain in the ass, a little and invisible splinter in his skin that bothered more than hurt. He didn't know you very well, but when it came to you, he felt overprotective, he felt like he needed to see you more, to know every little piece of information about your life, damn he didn't even know your backstory aside from stripes of details that people said about you but nothing else, he wanted more and he would do anything to guarantee his stay in your life.

"Bakugo"

The voice of the man who was his teacher on his annoying ages startled him. He was outside the infirmary, his arms crossed over his chest and with the same exhausting look on his eyes.

"Mr. Aizawa" Bakugo felt like all the air of his lungs was pulled out.

"She's fine. She's resting" straight to the point like always. "Her ankle is healed too"

"That's very good news, sr," he said, stuffing his hands on his pockets.

"Yeah," Aizawa nodded. "I was wondering why you didn't tell me"

Damn. The man could be frightening even for Bakugo.

"I don't have any excuse," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "She told me she'd be fine and Iet her, that was so reckless of me." The last part was more for Bakugo than Aizawa. He should've grabbed you and tossed you on his shoulder to the emergency room.

"She's so stubborn" Aizawa stated rolling his eyes and eyeing you from the outside. You were still deep asleep. "She wouldn't have let you, don't be so hard on yourself"

"Yeah, but it was the right thing to do," he said, looking at you too. Your face was relaxed, and your mouth was slightly open to let the air get out of your system. He felt his stomach flutter.

"Your mother called me this morning and told me what happened, I'm glad she was with you." Aizawa was trying not to scare the boy, but it was difficult when you were the one injured. He wanted to say thank you without saying it just to mess with Bakugo. He hoped the poor guy was smart enough to read his intentions. "Before you picked her up, I went to her room, and she was happy, I haven't seen her that happy in a long long time"

He left the "thank you" hanging, but Bakugo knew damn well what followed the last sentence. His cheat puffed out, and he was motivated enough to tell you everything when you woke up.

"I'll stay with her until she wakes up, go to class, I'll tell her to reach for you once she's fine"

Bakugo nodded, and even though he didn't want to leave you, he needed to gather his feelings to come up with the best idea to actually confess.

...

The day went by, and you lingered in your room, watching three outfits laid in your bed. Three different choices, and you liked all of them. That was the first reason why you felt like the date with Todoroki suddenly, and because of your feelings, was turning slowly into something very, very friendly and platonic. You had three choices, and you liked all of them. If the said date was something with relevance, you would be losing your mind over it and in reality you were feeling very chill about it.

You picked a white top and some baggy jeans. It was casual. Todoroki sent you the address at lunch, and you knew the bar very well. Many students went there to watch games or to cry about academic failures.

He didn't pick you up. Instead, you walked alone to the place. It was crowded, and plenty of people were there enjoying themselves, sipping beer and cackling about dumb jokes.

You found your date in the corner of the room in a booth, he was mindlessly scrolling through his phone when you approached.

"Hi," you said, smiling brightly at him.

He did the same and returned the greetings.

"I thought on waiting for you outside your building, but I was coming from the opposite direction," he excused himself the minute you got a seat.

"Don't worry about it," you discarded his apologies. "I completely understand, and besides, the air is warm enough to stay in the open"

"You're right." he played with the napkin under his hand.

The ambient didn't change one bit. It was awkward like the two of you knew that it wasn't going to work or regretted the date right before it happened.

It felt like a huge weight in both of you. Gladly, the drinks appeared not much after the awkward silence, so you jumped into the opportunity of letting go a litte of that enormous tension in the air.

After a sip or two of your drink, you let your tongue take the upper hand of the conversation. You talked about the agency of his father, about some other heroes, college stuff, and people. He told you about his years in UA high school, how class 1A behaved, and how Aizawa was as a teacher.

"And Bakugo, he was the most annoying prick of all, but I liked him, I discovered that pretending and calling him my friend was funnier than to try to ignore his attitude, he changed tho, after the war"

Todoroki was matching your drinking speed, and the date turned into a hangout between two longtime friends.

You laughed about him being so oblivious about people, and he laughed at you very subtly about your stories. You two got along very well, and you felt relaxed when the date lost its label.

"God, I'm really having a good time, you know, I was pretty nervous when you asked me out, and then something changed, and I almost bail, I'm so glad that I didn't"

You speaking more than you should was so you when it came to drinking. You stopped at the third, you weren't drunk just a little tipsy, very aware of your surroundings but not very in control of your mouth.

"I felt the same, don't misunderstand this, you're very pretty and you always caught my attention but yesterday I was scrolling through media and I saw a picture of you and Bakugo at some sort of gala. The date felt wrong after that"

The comment didn't hurt at all. You felt sorry.

"It was so unexpected," you said without trying to justify yourself.

"I heard the rumor, and I remember talking with Midoriya that Bakugo needed some grounding. You humbled him, you're our heroe"

Despise the fact that your act was very public and spoke out loud. You nodded, raising your glass and waiting for him to cling his against yours.

"What a nice surprise, what are we celebrating guys?"

The noise of the glasses clinging died under the voicr of Bakugo, who was suddenly standing beside your booth.

You wanted to die.

"What are you doing here?" You blurted in a messy way.

"I was just passing by," he answered curtly. "Icy-hot I haven't seen you in ages"

The way your eyebrows almost went to the back of your head because of his lack of manners was above you. He ignored you completely to engage a conversation with your so-not date. You were confused and staring at him while he made a huge effort to forget you were right under him in the booth.

"Excuse me," you said, moving his big and bulky body out of your way to go to the bathroom. You pointed to the restrooms to Todoroki, and he nodded, Bakugo leveraged the momentum to scoot himself in your seat.

Your head was buzzing, and suddenly, the effect of the alcohol was banished. You took your phone from the back pocket of your jeans and dialed Jirou's number.

"You're speaking to Denki. Who's there?" You never thought you would be so happy to hear your friend's voice.

"Thank god, put it on speaker," you waited for a moment and then continued. "Bakugo's here talking with my fucking date"

"WHAT?"

The sound of Jirou's drumsticks hitting the floor was loudly enough to have you to take the phone far from your ear.

"I know, I don't know what to do," you said, looking at yourself in the mirror' stall.

"Did he say something?" Jirou asked.

"No, he completely ignored me"

"He's pissed," Denki added, laughing. You heard how Jirou smacked his arm through the phone.

"I texted him earlier about my ankle, but he didn't answer me back. It's not like I could possibly have told him about the date which, just so you know, turned into a not date"

"I'm going to ask for the latter later, where are you hiding?" Jirou said concern dripping from her voice.

"I'm in the bathroom hiding. This sucks. I feel like I have to explain myself, but again, why? I'm not doing anything wrong, and we are nothing and-" you mumbled.

"What about the kiss?" Your friend interrupted and Denki gasped.

"What kiss??"

"There wasn't a proper kiss. It was just the impulse. " You tried to dissipate the chaos.

"I say you go back and tell them you threw up and want to go home, we can pick you up if you want"

You were gathering your options. They were just a few and one worse than the other.

"I'm fine. I'll hold it until Bakugo decides he wants to leave and then everything will be okay again"

Jokes on you. Your date evolved into a threesome.

Todoroki, Bakugo, and you were sharing drinks and awkward conversations where the main topic was something that completely left you out. You were shrinking in your seat, hoping to disappear.

"And then he forgot to pull the lever." Bakugo laughed above the music. He had several drinks on his body, and you were fully sober by the time he decided to stop.

A weird and sudden silence fell amongst yourselves, and you knew it was your chance to finally end your torture.

"Oh my god, how late is it?" You widened your eyes watching your phone and locking it immediately, if someone dared to ask you the time you would have no idea. "I'm going to call it a night, but you two can stay and enjoy, please don't let me stop you"

You urged Bakugo to step the hell up for you to run the far away and as soon as possible.

"You're right. It's been a long night. Since we're heading to the same point, I should walk you home, or do you want to do it, Todoroki?"

Always so polite. And so uncalled.

You could feel the headache forming in your head.

"It's fine by me, I'm going to stay for a while anyways, Midoriya is ending his shift at the agency, so we're going to meet here for some beers" he looked at you. "Is okay with you?"

Internally, you were begging for him to invite Bakugo to stay too. In the outside you shrugged.

"I'll make sure she's safe and sound." he passed his arm behind your back and started moving you towards the exit.

What the future had for you was nothing else than a long and bizarre trip back home.

The walk back the buildings was silent. You shrugged under his arm because of the cold breeze that penetrated your bones.

"Here," he took off his jacket and handed it to you.

"Thanks," you muttered.

You could tell that he was pissed as Denki said. The audacity of the man and the act he played was beyond your own imagination.

You made a mistake. That was something obvious, but he came out of nothing without knowing the entire context. Besides that, he crashed your date without any explanation because you could definitely have your ideas of it, but none of them were fully confirmed.

"My building is over there," you said when suddenly he was walking you towards his building instead of yours.

"I figured that if we are already out this late, maybe we should prolong the night a bit"

His gruff voice did nothing to hide the fact that he felt jealous because of the scene he found in the bar. He went there to have a whisky or too just to cool off his predicament of how to say to you what he actually felt for you. He wasn't very kin to verbalize his emotions, and there was always a chance that they came out wrong. He wanted to avoid that.

Bakugo guided you to his room. For some reason, you were feeling the need to say something about the date with Todoroki to explain yourself. But you were torn inside. What if he didn't care and you were making everything you thought he felt up?

You carried your feet along the stairs without even caring about your ankle. Your mind was clouded with racing throughts that were scrambling your brain.

Without noticing, you were inside Bakugo's room. He turned on the light and started picking up things he had scarred on the floor.

After he picked up a shirt, you took your chance to sit on the marron carpet underneath your feet.

"There's a chair behind you," he said side eyeing you from his spot in front of his bed.

"I need to reconnect with the earth." You tried to joke around, but he didn't even return his gaze at you.

After he folded his clothes and rearranged his closet for what it felt an eternity, he took a seat in front of you on the floor, his back against his bed.

At that point, for you, even if the alcohol was gone, the silence was unbearable.

"Fine, you want me to say it, I'll say it," you sighed. "What you saw is not what you think"

"I didn't know you were a mind reader. Tell me what I think"

The scowl on his face grew deeper by the second. If he wanted to pretend that he wasn't bothered, he was doing an awful job.

"It started as a date. He asked me out before...you know and I said yes and-"

"Why didn't you say no after we went together?"

You knew it was the booze talking. He had a couple of glasses back in the bar, and you were absolutely, one hundred percent sure, that he wouldn't say the things that he was saying fully sober.

"I didn't want to be that kind of person." You shook your head at the sound of your words. You didn't want to be someone who stood up another, but you were willing to be the kind of person to ignore your own feelings.

Bakugo was silent in front of you. He was realizing that he had no right to be mad at you because he still hasn't made the courage to confess properly at you. You were walking on eggshells disguised as assumptions.

"Just so you know, he saw our photos and he wanted to bail the date too"

You played with your fingers, waiting for an answer or some sort of reactions. Your eyes were stuck on the movement between both of your hands that you didn't notice when Bakugo smiled sufficiently.

"Tsk," he called your attention. "The balls of that poor little bastard shrinked because he saw you with me? Pathetic"

You said those words before because you thought that it would mend what was broken. You didn't think it would inflate something that was already full. His own ego.

"I can't stand you," you said, rolling your eyes at him while he smirked across of you.

That cocky bastard. He was the only one who could possibly turn an excuse into something about him.

"Says the one who went out with another guy after almost kissed me," he blurted with a plastered smile on his face. Oh, now he was enjoying it.

"I didn't kiss you." You crossed your arms over your chest and launched your boobs up. Bakugo felt the drool pooling on his mouth.

"That's why I said almost"

The tension was palpable. He had to move from his spot to rearrange his clothes without you noticing. Change of position with a very subtle movement on his Jean's sipper.

"For what I recall, you were the one who tried to kiss me"

You were oblivious to his acts. Lookin straight to his eyes because for one reason or another, the staring contest was on, and you weren't ready to lose.

"It was mutual," he answered, pointing at you from his seat. "I think we should try again, just to see if it was worth it"

He looked at you. Your physical language changed a lot since you two entered his room. You were gorgeous playing dumb when he could see through you and notice that you were almost as horny as him.

"Shut up," you exclaimed. "You ruined my fucking date you don't deserve shit"

"Uh, we are using bad words. It seems like it really got twisted in your panties"

"The only thing twisted in my panties is you"

You noticed about your mistake right after you blurted the words out. The change in the atmosphere had you gasping for stolen air. There wasn't any chance that he would let your mistake die.

"I wish," he said. His tone was completely even. "Just so you know, I like you in jeans, but I prefer you in skirts, I like your legs," he tried to dissipate the tension, but it did exactly the opposite.

"Oh now we're talking bodies?" You quirked your brow at him, and he scoffed.

'If we are talking body..." he raised his arms in defense just to add "l like your boobs"

"I like your hands." You followed his game.

"You have a great ass"

"I really enjoy watching your back and when you flex your arms"

"You do have nice hips, and don't get me started about your lips"

The intensity of his eyes on you were making havocs on your body. You were visibly flushed because of his words, and apparently, you had any will to stop.

"I lied when I said your dick was small.' You licked your lips. He found it the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

"Yeah?"

Only a mumble.

"Yeah, and I lied when I said I never wanted to see it again"

He was looking at you across the room with such an intensity that you didn't realize that you were launching yourself to him until you were straddling him. His hands were quick enough to grab your ass and to reposition your body against his, your core hitting his growing bulge.

His eyes were half lidded, looking up at you. You sunk a little on him to be at the same height. Crimson eyes right in front of you. Full of lust, desire, and just for him to know, a little bit of love.

"Are you going to give me my kiss?" He whispered right above your lips. "Or do I have to do it myself?"

The tone of his voice did something inside of you. It was like electricity running through your system. Forget the alcohol and the adrenaline of being in a battle, this was ten times better.

"I'm starting to think that the only thing you do is talk," you gasped.

His lips tightened closer yours in what it felt like a smile. His upper lip was touching yours, a faint caress spoiling you on what was about to happen.

Instead of the mutual belief, you were the one who connected your lips. The kiss was hungry, adamant, like you were chasing something you couldn't fully reach.

His tongue swept your lips, gaining its entrance to your mouth. Both tongues collided in a war that left you completely breathless.

His hands were groping your ass and swaying your hips to generate some sort of friction on your lower parts. You were definitely turned on by that.

Looking for some air to get inside your lungs, you backed off a little. A tiny string of saliva connecting the two of you leaving trace of what happened.

"Can this get any more messy?" You said, steadying your breathing.

Your hands were fisting his shirt, trying to find some balance between your chest going up and down and your aching core.

"Let's find out." he wasn't drunk because of the whisky anymore, he was drunk because of you. Your smell, your taste, he wanted more.

"I don't want to get fucked on the floor, I'm not eighteen anymore" you said avoiding the embarrassment of being so vocal.

The first time you did what you were about to do, you weren't sure about your decisions, and your senses were lacking direction. Now, the scene was different. You wanted him more than ever.

"Noted," he grabbed you firmly by the back of your thighs and walked you to the bed like if standing up with lifting a body was as easy as lifting a feather.

"I want to be on top," you said when he started to put you under him.

The sudden request caught him by surprise. A good surprise. He couldn't contain the excitement showing on his face.

"Oh, don't let that get over your head, please," you rolled your eyes at him.

"How can I not?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Your wishes are my commands, princess"

He was quick to put you in the same position you two were on the floor. He kissed you this time. Sloppy and slowly. Your hands went up to touch the nape of his neck while his hands grabbed the underside of your breast.

The kissing escalated fast enough that you didn't realize when he was kissing and marking your neck while grabbing your full breast with his left hand.

You wanted to press your tighs together and get rid of your jeans and his. You needed skin to skin contact.

Taking the upper hand on the undressing matter, you latched your neck off his lips and took away your top, leaving your boob in display for him to see.

Bakugo's mouth watered at the sight of them. The first time he had you, he had you underneath him with the lights off. Now he was watching at your body flushed against him right in front of his eyes.

"Shit" he muttered.

"What?" You asked, grabbing his shirt too and urging him take it off. He did.

"Nothing, you are gorgeous, that's all" he said nonchalantly.

You whined and smacked his arm.

"You're gorgeous, that's all," you mimicked him. "You said that like it was nothing, I am fully naked for you, and that's what I get? The only thing you missed was shrugging your shoulders"

He cackled at your dramatic antics and denied it several times before grabbing your lips between his.

"You are more than gorgeous," he muttered against your lips.

"That's better." You smiled and continued kissing him.

It didn't last long before his mouth was over your breast, taking your nipple between his teeth prolonging the ache in your body, you moaned, and he shivered.

The clothes disappeared quickly after that. You were sitting on top of his dick that was hard on your warm core.

He stretched his arm to find something in the drawer. You stopped him mid motion.

"It's fine, we are fine," you said, your fingerpads touching his huge bicep.

"You sure?" He was calm, but on the inside, he was buzzing to the mere chance of taking you raw again. This time fully conscious.

"Yeah, I mean only if you are fine with it, too," you said, and he turned it as a sign to align himself towards your entrance, pushing the tip inside of you. "Shit"

"You okay?" He asked, slowing a bit. You nodded, grabbing his arms that were firmly pressed at your side. "I have to tell you something"

"Yeah, sure, kill the moment"

"Dumbass," he rolled his eyes, trying to hide his smirk. Damn you loved that side of him. "What you heard about me, about my extremely and overwhelming ginormous experiences with girls? Half of them aren't true"

That was something you didn't see coming. You were expecting something less relevant like he was those types of guys who didn't last long.

"What?" You said stopping his sinking a little.

"Yeah, I let the rumors spread because I didn't care about what they said about me. I cared about my friends and no one else, about what they think, I mean " he said, caressing your hair and intertwining his fingers in your locks. "That was until you appeared claiming I had aids or something"

"Don't remind me, please," you tried to cover yourself, but he didn't let you. He wanted you fully exposed at him.

"And just so you know, you are actually the third girl in my life," he said with a playful smile on his face.

"Oh, don't make me feel too special," you joked back at him. "I don't care about what they say either," you mumbled, taking advantage of his state and giving him a slow peck.

The process of not caring about what people said was hard for you. All of this started because you were afraid of being in everyone's mouth because of the naked man in front of you. You didn't care about his body count or about the rumors. You cared about the moment.

After the conversation, he remembered what he was doing before the chat. He sank his member in you, not breaking eye contact in any second. He wanted to see your face, how your brows knitted together, and how your mouth slightly opened.

"Fuck" you said. "I didn't remember it was this big"

That was a boost for his ego and gas to the pedal for him to keep moving. When his dick was situated inside you, Bakugo had to take all his strength to not nut in you.

"Are you ready to-

You interrupted his words with your motions. You started bouncing on his cock the minute you found it comfortable enough. Your knees were deep on his bed, steadying yourself to lift yourself up only to sink down.

"Fuck, princess" he mumbled in the crook of your neck. He started bitting right after that with you moving up and down his member.

You picked up speed, your clit finding the friction it needed to build up the intense wave that threatened to bust.

"You're doing it so good," he purred under your ear, his right hand on your hip moving you and his left hand squeezing your breast. You wished you could talk but the only thing that came out of your mouth were whines and moans.

"Let me hear you," he demanded. His voice gruff and strained.

The same ball of pleasure that you were building on the inside, he was containing it to not spill. He wanted to get you off first, and you weren't so far of his goal.

"Does that feel good?" he said, and you moaned in return. He was moving exactly in the way you wanted it, hitting the spongy spot inside of you that had you curling your toes because of the pleasure. "Use your words, princess"

"Yes," you breathlessly moaned. "Yes, Katsuki, keep going"

The sudden use of his first name got him grabbing you tightly than before. His steady pace evolved in something fast and uncoordinated that had you clenching around him.

"Katsuki, I'm about to -" You moaned through your orgasm, your nails marking his back, and his hands firmly groped at your ass joining your bodies at the point that there wasn't a breeze that could pass through you two.

He spilled his seeds right after you, grunting and going rigid against your arms. You were a sweating mess, and he was, too. Beads of sweat coating at his hairline.

Katsuki watched you trying to calm your breathing while your body still trembled because of the powerful orgasm you two shared.

You sighed in defeat. You were beat.

"Let me take a sip of water, and I'm ready for round two" you whispered.

He laughed against your forehead and left a kiss on it.

"Next time I'll eat you up," he grunted.

You were beat, but not that beat to waste the opportunity.

Katsuki cursed himself on his mind. There wasn't anything to hide anymore. He was genuinely catching feeling for your ass.

(Not proofread yet)

When I said before monday I meant monday, giggles.

End note: Ok, but blame the jackass of my ex-boyfriend for this big fat delay! He's the worst anyway, here it is and babies I have to say that this is getting to an end...there's like one more chapter left :( the great news is that I'm working on something to don't leave you like castaways because I really love your reactions and comments.

A penny for your thoughts about this (not really but express yourself)

taglist: @kiridagremiln @aefillor @screechingfangirlaf @chuugarettes @gold24fish @dreamcastgirl99 @andyetshewrote @budibbly @candiiee @linkfromskywardsword @galaneiaeris @fantasynerd05 @big-denki-energy @3thr3al @marsbars09 @whatswrong7 @scaranthropy @cc1306 @junehasnotbeenfound @jeanbabygirl @pirana10 @sappho-the-kitten-tamer @ahbeautifulexistence @polarbvnny @th0tformikasa @surprisemodafakas @xxjesshuxx @katsuisbaby @azzo0 @atashiboba @azzo0 @berryvioo @hiimsaraandyou @bizzybkd @regrexx @justsinri @slut-4-gojo @bexxs @lemuhr @monkeycheeks-lvl26 @tsukikoxo @sikuthealien @mia-luvs @dondeh-zedonutqueen @the-queen-yn @stardream14 @pretty-sparkle-bomb @itzjustj-1000 @m-atcha-tea @liluvtojineteyam @shosuki @v3n7s @yoyolovesdaiki @jenna-sakura @femi12hhf @aejabba @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere

taglist continues on the comments.

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thankyouforthememoriesworld · 4 months ago

Note

I present the master Paige/Azzi youtube watchlist in chronological order of filming (sorta). I'm not including every game because that would take forever but I did include workouts that I've loved watching. Of course this doesn't have everything but maybe someone can help put together a playlist or something haha. I just wanted all the major interviews that I love in one spot tbh and I supposed this is also a great way for new fans to get to know these two players actually.

Spring 2019

Azzi Fudd wins Gatorade Player of the Year

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmI8Ochf92Y

Azzi Fudd’s remarkable road to recovery | ESPN Cover Story (technically this spans a lot but because it is about ACL, I'm placing it here)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6xpNyfPxsk

Azzi Fudd and Paige Bueckers after dinner at Cheesecake Factory

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFzQocVgm10

Summer 2019

One-on-one with Azzi Fudd: Steph camp, Unicorn Fam, early offers and more

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xgQeatZpetQ

Paige Bueckers & Azzi Fudd Battle To Be The #1 Hooper (July 2019 is 6 weeks after her ACL surgery)

https://youtu.be/eTbVfXufQsg?si=VF7bE-fB7P6-6tVu

Fall 2019 to March 2020

Azzi Day in the Life (photoshoot was on Jan 30, 2020 for reference)

https://youtu.be/enzGl05J-4Q?si=_LpwhC3M_OIP0clJ

Hopkins Royal FULL SERIES (season ran Nov 23, 2019 to mid March 2020 and it is over an hour long)

https://youtu.be/kAmSzerEoHc?si=h__o2wWSIbbdvVnl

No. 1 Overall Recruit Paige Bueckers Is a Human Highlight Reel

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eT9P-96vA7k

Ball Is Life Paige Bueckers Day in the Life

https://youtu.be/mouE9jO9Y_A?si=O5P1W0iH5IZnCHSM

Spring 2020

Paige wins Gatorade Player of the Year

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IENvfOL-YIA

Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd 1v1 Against Trainer (date based on Azzi's IG post)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SxWgLaCAm6I

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQN8cFt1o00

Azzi Fudd workout highlights with Chris Brickley

https://youtu.be/KpWVfzZN7qM?si=Ns6D6Vl1Yt01VGIB

Summer 2020 (starting with May)

20 questions with Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IaK2qM05t7Y

Buried Treasure

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bEEEnYMibFQ

Purple Hair

https://youtu.be/nTmAQKScbUM?si=vCdOBMqK-mlDMkWZ

Quarantine Haircuts

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTnDwiQc5qk

Paige Bueckers Receives Advice From WNBA SUPERSTARS Ft. Brittney Griner, Sue Bird, and More!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0MagDKjoTA

A Day in the Life of Azzi Fudd

https://youtu.be/ILZCeNVcL1U?si=iouVrM2rEqIkSWAP

Paige Bueckers & Azzi's CRAZY Quarantine Day In The Life

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_TmMlXPmB4

Azzi Fudd #1 HS Player in the Country & GTS Fusion BALL OUT Series (This technically overlaps with Fall 2020 especially with Azzi signing to UConn on her birthday and is approximately an hour)

https://youtu.be/nU24h5_vnBI?si=H8Ey8V9h6kDX-4l8

Fall/Spring 2020

Azzi Fudd Carpool Karaoke, Paige Bueckers FaceTime, and More | Day In The Life (Nov 5, 2020)

https://youtu.be/RmMe60uzbUM?si=lMLALlwBmRHK0kOE

Azzi Fudd's commitment live

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Xdnt7TXIdw

Faces In The Crowd: Azzi Fudd

https://youtu.be/bIz7Z_vLZJQ?si=LKlDWLhwN2yDQ6uv

"Step2TheMic" podcast Episode #4 featuring Azzi Fudd

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-idN_tl9cSI

Beginning of 2021

Sports Stars of Tomorrow Feature on Azzi

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tXep2STcYq8

Summer/Fall 2021

Paige's live of Jon Fudd eating Cicadas

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DkVkxsc8rKo

PAIGE BUECKERS | Day In The Life!

https://youtu.be/6CzGZQe1pRU?si=6AcXFcIsYigTEzi1

UConn Star Paige Bueckers Shows Off Her Dope Sneaker Collection

https://youtu.be/IZArJtbceys?si=TKp83pvp6Lz_Sh8-

Azzi Fudd and Paige Bueckers: UConn Women's Basketball Media Availability - 7/6/21

Paige: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B0vKs7VjYb0

Azzi: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGwUNtXSEE0

Both: https://youtu.be/bL4Jq2sFt0A?si=Fkl5eDxwl3V-8zL-

Chris Brickley Workouts (Don't know when exactly this was)

https://youtu.be/nkcLs9qkz8g?si=7Sd-ho-d6YxreJ-T

Slam Cover Interview

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9HaJSLhx8xU

First Press Conference

https://youtu.be/JOuVS5RfsFA?si=lbcCMT_wX-u263W7

USF Presser (lowkey love this presser so much)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOdWM_xTO7k

2022

St. Johns Presser

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5v4BgJhEc0M

Azzi Fudd's 2 dogs, playing with Paige Bueckers and her relationship with her parents | Inside Look

https://youtu.be/U9vnxoyoEwo?si=DmyoMR7-j_SfpksJ

UConn stars Paige Bueckers, Azzi Fudd talk basketball

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szGAuDtsfkU

The Workout: UCONN Duo Paige Beckers & Azzi Fudd

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YN5Gtzx1jt8

How UConn’s Azzi Fudd Balances Brands and Basketball

https://youtu.be/7VFgYc6eXiY?si=P5zYmtqxFYaNU-uh

2023

Kelsey Plum and Azzi Fudd Exclusive Workout

https://youtu.be/EmEO5aweU2Y?si=vAS60IQuieEtbRGQ

2v2 Azzi's Camp

https://youtu.be/VbYGpBW6SUs?si=H-8rYG7PjGUCr54S

Azzi Fudd at Curry Camp

https://youtu.be/-w0kjDPLhPQ?si=iwd0NKPMSyiaL8fH

UConn in Europe Special (48 minutes but not just them)

https://youtu.be/hhOfSaY9D-c?si=Ly2MnTfL4dbt2Ydh

How Kobe Bryant's mentality helped Paige Bueckers' ACL recovery

https://youtu.be/ugq1GLWqxPQ?si=3-6QaO81GovOA7Re

Sue's Episode

https://youtu.be/ZONny74MNWU?si=x0nG2Ny4HJDYirlQ

YOU'RE THE BEST, YOU SHOULD GET EVERYTHING YOU WANT IN THIS LIFE 💖. You make me precise timelines and you know how much I appreciate that, plus you provide me with Azzi videos (when she's starving us out).

#I appreciate your work 🤗#youtube watchlist #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #🔎

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incorrectbatfam · 2 years ago

Note

dickie and jason headcanons pretty please

Everyone thinks Tim and Damian are a nightmare to have in a room together, but it's actually Dick and Jason. Tim and Damian still need to work through a thing or two and subconsciously pull their punches because of that, but Dick and Jason have no such thing. They've been siblings the longest and at this point it's an undisputed fact that they love each other, so there's zero limit to them being absolute menaces

They've been in a Toy Blast standoff since last year. Dick keeps speedrunning the levels and Jason keeps deleting the app from Dick's phone until he catches up

The bathroom switch in the Bludhaven apartment is outside the bathroom. Barbara kept telling Dick to get it changed and he kept procrastinating, so when Jason broke in and turned the lights off in the middle of Dick's shower, all Babs said from the other room was "Told you so"

Jason: "Alfred, tell Dick to quit breathing over my shoulder"

Dick: "Tell Jason to quit blocking the screen with his big helmet"

Alfred: "Sort it out yourselves, this is not in my job description"

Dick wrestled Jason for an Oreo but also gave him the comfier sleeping bag in the span of five minutes while they were on a stakeout

Jason is absolutely the sibling that chases Dick around the house with a knife for fun when Bruce and Alfred aren't around

Dick: "Get out of my room"

Jason, lurking outside the windowsill: "I'm not in your room"

Dick's outfits aren't truly considered nice until they pass the Jason Test, which is getting a "meh" instead of "you look like you were drawn by a fourth grader"

To brag that he got the last slice of pizza, Jason slapped it across Dick's face

The most accurate ruler in the world is the one they use to split the last candy bar (but Dick secretly lets Jason have an extra millimeter)

And the most accurate measuring cup is the one they divide the last of the apple juice with (though Jason generously gives Dick a few drops more)

The tension is palpable—even the Subway guy cutting their sandwich can feel it

Alfred sends them out to do yard work and they start sword-fighting with increasingly bigger sticks until Dick grabs a rake and Jason whips out the All-Blades

Jason: "I was here first!"

Dick: "I was born first!"

Jason: "I was adopted first!"

Dick has two Instagram accounts—Dick Grayson and Nightwing. Jason has three—Jason Todd, Red Hood, and the verified Nightwing

When the Cave is colder than usual, Jason brings Dick his favorite peppermint hot chocolate but always takes the first sip

Together they stole the bat-plane, flew to Lebanon for food, received a hefty fine after nearly colliding with a fighter jet, got a huge scratch on the side, paid someone under the table to fix it, and put it back where they found it in the span of Bruce debriefing the Justice League

Dick will go through Jason's leftovers, pick out what he likes, and leave the rest. Later he'll hear Jason walk out of the kitchen shouting "Who the FUCK took the shrimp out of my shrimp fried rice?!"

When they were kids Jason's bedtime was half an hour later than Dick's. Dick still has beef with Bruce about that

Dick is Player 1. Jason is Player 6 because the first time they played he grabbed a random controller from a box of dozen

Jason: "Help me bury this body"

Dick: "Sure"

Jason: "Also I need to delete all record of this guy's existence"

Dick: "Will do"

Jason: "And can you get me a drink?"

Dick: "Get it yourself"

When he first arrived, Jason was resistant to the idea of having an older sibling until he realized he has Younger Brother Privilege

Dick hides the remote with a sword swallowing trick and Jason hates it

They use texts for personal conversations, WhatsApp for vigilante business, and Snapchat for unhinged memery. It's like talking to 3 separate people

They also have their own text abbrevation: DTB (Don't tell Bruce)

They don't apologize, they just sulk in their rooms for a couple hours until Alfred calls them down for dinner and they forget all about it

Goon: "Who's that blue fella? Youse was fightin' real loud"

Jason: "Nightwing. He just pisses me off sometimes"

Goon: "I can take care of him"

Jason, lighting a cigarette: "Go ahead, I'll be here when you get your ass handed to you"

3K notes · View notes

maimingaffairs · 11 months ago

Text

Grieving for the Living (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader) Part 1

The entirety of a capricious and treacherous marriage between the Darkling and the Lantsov princess.

part 2 here!

oh look who's writing again!!!! ME! this particular story is going to be about 5-6 parts and most of it is finished. i've had a lot of requests to do an arranged marriage trope and so here she is. normally, i would have just posted the entire thing, but the first half alone was over 30k words and if ur anything like me, that's dangerous for someone with an attention span of a seven year old. but nonetheless, i love u and i miss u and i'm so looking forward to being back. REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN and i implore u to take advantage of that because i would love to busy myself with writing. sending u all hugs and kisses on the cheeks. (apologies in advance for the time ur wasting on this mess)

word count: 10.1k

warnings: nothing serious. drinking, kissing, examples of a not very healthy relationship. minimal swearing i think??

Your wedding dress lay abandoned on the cold floor, along with your jewelry and your veil and your shoes. You sat, chin deep in hot water, eyes fixated on the water in front of you. Footsteps echoed in the room adjacent- your new, shared, room- and each one made you wince. Each one a reminder of the man who the steps belonged to.

Your husband.

Not by choice, of course. He was kind, chivalrous, and ever so polite. He’d looked away when you practically tore your wedding dress off and threw your jewels to the floor. He’d insisted that he wouldn’t touch you, wouldn’t pressure you to consummate the marriage. He’d had a hot bath put together for you as you sat on the floor by his- yours- bed, and he’d helped you to your feet when it was ready. He wasn’t any happier about the marriage than you, but it wasn’t like either of you were in a place to argue.

He was The General of the Second Army of Ravka. You were the Princess of Ravka. Neither of you really had the clearance to be protesting what your father had commanded. Your father insisted that it was a smart pairing, that uniting the Grisha with your family was a major political statement. One that might bring a bit more peace amongst those who sneered at the Grisha. You suspected it also had something to do with the fact that your mother didn’t want to send you off to marry someone who’d whisk you away from Os Alta. You were, after all, the youngest in the Lantsov family. Your mother might just lose her temper if you were to be sent away.

The fact that you were married seemed surreal. You could be married to much worse men than The General, and that was for certain. But nevertheless, you were still full of disappointment. You’d never get to really fall in love, never get to truly be happy. The delusion of eventual happiness was often rude to you, because you knew that despite having an overall good life, you’d never have your own full agency. Not as a royal, and certainly not as a royal woman.

You’d been in the bathroom for nearly an hour now, and the water had begun to slowly go cold. With an exhausted glance at the door, you climbed slowly out of the bathtub and grabbed a large, plush towel that had been sat upon a stool just for you. You wrapped yourself in the towel and stared at the door with a blank frown. Your now-husband’s footsteps had ceased, and instead there was a strange silence that settled in. You brushed it off as best you could and opened up the door that would lead you into your shared bedroom.

The Darkling sat with his back up against the headboard of his bed and he held a book in his hands. His dark eyes flickered up to your face and they stayed there for a moment before he looked back to his book.

“There are night clothes for you, at the end of the bed. They’re still in the process of moving your belongings from the Grand Palace to here.” He explained, not looking back up at you.

You stayed in the doorway to the bathroom and your eyes floated around the entire bedroom for a moment before they settled on the clothes at the end of the bed. You shivered just slightly and pulled your towel tighter around your body.

“You wouldn’t be cold if you put clothes on, your Grace.” His voice was idle, and his eyes were still transfixed on his book. You wondered how he had noticed your shivering, but chalked it up to whatever abilities he had as a Grisha.

Every step you took towards the bed didn’t feel real. The whole night hadn’t felt real. You floated your way through your wedding with a dazed, fake smile painted across your face. The only thing grounding you at most times was the presence of The Darkling’s hand on your back. You grabbed the clothes in one hand and held your towel up with the other and started back towards the bathroom to change before he spoke again.

“I’m not going to look. You may change in here.” He stated, and with an unmoored nod of your head, you dropped your towel to the floor.

His eyes never strayed from his book once as you changed into your nightclothes, and you made sure of that by keeping yours fixed on him. He kept his word and didn’t so much as glance at you through his periphery. You stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed and picked at the stray threads at your sleeves, not sure of what to do now.

Your husband set his book on the side table next to his bedside and he peeled back the covers on the opposite side of the bed and he motioned towards it, “Please, it’s been a rather exhausting day for the both of us, and I think some sleep is in order.” He murmured and looked up at you, “Princess, please. I know this isn’t ideal, but I wish you would speak to me.” He pleaded in a soft tone, and you’d wondered if this man had ever pleaded for anything before in his life.

You slowly made your way towards the empty side of the bed and you climbed onto the mattress next to him, instantly tugging the covers up to your chin as you laid down, keeping distance between your bodies. You looked up at him to find that he was already gazing down upon your face and you felt flushed.

“I just want this to be as easy as possible for the both of us, Princess. We don’t have to be lovers, not really. But we can at the very least be friends.” He remarked kindly.

“I know.” You answered, finding your voice.

A very small smile made his full lips turn upwards, and a thin lock of hair fell over his forehead as he looked down at you.

“Go to sleep, Princess.”

You gave him a nod and closed your eyes, listening to him shuffle around a bit and blow out the candle at his bedside. Tears pooled in your closed eyes and you curled yourself into a ball, pulling the covers up over your head while little tears snuck their way out of the corners of your eyes. You didn’t know him, you didn’t even know his name. Misery weighed heavily on your chest and you wrapped your arms around yourself tightly, thinking that it was likely the only comforting embrace you’d ever feel.

Likely ever again.

Your husband’s kindness seemed to wear off as quickly as it had materialized. He was still polite and chivalrous, but you were certain it was because it was only standard to treat you like… well… royalty. He was gone often, so it didn’t bother you, not that much, at least. It had been nearly four months into your marriage, and this was the third time he’d been gone. His absence gave you a bit of relief, truth be told. You had his vast quarters to yourself and could do really anything you wanted, whether that was snooping around in his room or laying in bed all day reading.

Today happened to be a day where you had opted to stay in bed and read one of the many books you’d brought over from the Grand Palace. You hadn’t bothered to change into anything other than your bedclothes, and you sat on your side of the bed, legs tucked neatly underneath the covers. The doors to your shared quarters flew open loudly and a small handful of Grisha all filed into the room. Among the group was a red haired girl who you recognized as Genya. You knew her from the extensive time she spent with your mother, but the two of you didn’t speak often. She looked at you with an apologetic smile and you stared confusedly back at her.

“What’s going on here?” You asked and slowly set your book on your husband’s side of the bed.

Genya bowed her head respectfully and she walked towards the edge of your bed, “The Darkling is home. He’s brought the Sun Summoner with him. I’ve been sent by your mother to have you readied and sent into the Grand Palace immediately. The rest of them are here to tidy up the room.” She explained.

A small bit of disappointment swirled in your chest at the arrival of your husband and you carefully climbed out of the bed and nodded stiffly, “Okay.”

Genya led you into the bathroom as you peered over your shoulder at the Grisha that immediately had begun cleaning the near-spotless room. Once inside the bathroom, she shut the door behind you two and she sat you down on a little bench.

“Nothing fancy, please. This is not a… celebratory occasion.” You requested, and you saw the Tailor give you a little nod in your peripheral vision.

She didn’t spend long on getting you ready, in fact, she simply pulled your hair back with a soft black ribbon and put a bit of cream on your face for whatever reason. She left the room and came back with a long, black dress, holding it up to you as if you’d somehow been given a say in the dress you were to wear.

“I hate it.” You responded flatly, looking at the silver embroidery on the bodice of the dress, “I know I have something… colorful in that wardrobe. I cannot stand black.” You said, your tone borderline snotty.

Genya glanced at the dress and then back up at you and sighed, “It’s customary for you to wear his color-“ she began but you held your hand up to silence the girl.

“Customary? No. He’s ordered it, so it shall be. Is that it?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest.

She gave you a look of sympathy and held the dress out for you to take, not speaking, intentionally not verbally confirming your statement.

You scoffed and took the dress from her, “I’m getting real sick of men telling me what I should do. What events to attend, who to marry, where to be, how to speak!” You tossed the dress aside as if it were a venomous snake, “What to wear! What color I must present myself in! Who to meet!” You continued, your voice raising with each word.

You hadn’t even noticed the door had been opened until you heard someone clear their throat from the doorway. You and Genya spun around to see your husband standing by the door with the dress just a few feet from his boots. His face was unreadable, but his fist was clenched tightly at his side.

“Genya, I think I can take it from here. I apologize for my wife’s outburst. I’m sure she will never do it again.” He spoke, never looking at the Tailor once, instead, his eyes bore into yours.

You stared back into his eyes challengingly and waited for Genya to leave the room. Once she had skirted out, The Darkling closed the door loudly behind her. He bent down slowly and picked up the discarded dress and walked towards you. You backed up until the backs of your knees hit the bathtub and you could no longer go anywhere else. He stood only a foot away from you and he draped the dress over the edge of the claw-footed tub and he grabbed your waist with a surprising gentleness, turning you around.

“Take off the nightgown.” He commanded. You stared at the wall in front of you, but didn’t speak. You didn’t even move.

When you made no move to undress yourself, your husband reached down and grabbed the hem of your nightgown and began to pull it upwards.

You slapped his hands away and gasped, “Do not touch me! You swore you’d not lay a finger on me!” You shrieked. You spun around to see him leaning over you, his face showing mild irritation.

“Undress yourself. Now, y/n.”

He hardly ever used your name, and now that he had, you felt a bit nervous. He spoke calmly, eerily so. Your hands shook as you reached down and pulled the nightgown off, crossing your arms over your chest instantly afterwards to cover yourself. But he didn’t seem to be looking at your body. His dark eyes were fixed sternly on your face. He pointed at the dress by your side on the edge of the bathtub and you grabbed it. Slowly, you straightened it out and stepped into it, hands still shaking. Once you had pulled it up and slid your arms into the long sleeves, he grabbed your waist and turned you around again. He grabbed the laces of your dress and began to tie them with sharp, precise movements.

“There will not be another outburst like that, do you understand me?” He asked and gave the laces a hard tug, pulling you back a bit.

You were now so close to him that you could feel the heat radiating off of his body and you swallowed nervously before giving him a nod.

He finished lacing up your dress and he gently turned you towards him, looking down at you. He looked down at the dress and then back up at your face. He pointed at a pair of black boots on the floor and you silently slipped them on and bent down to tie them. Once you had, you straightened back up, and he offered you his arm. You stared at it for a moment before finally taking it and you frowned, tears springing to your eyes.

One trickled down your cheek and you looked down at the floor, sniffling. He brought a hand up to your chin and he gently lifted your head back up before he reached up and carefully wiped your tear away with his thumb.

“Princess, I have only requested you wear black this afternoon so that we look like we stand united. We need to look like we have a strong partnership. Your parents have begun asking about children.” He murmured and led you out of the bathroom slowly.

You didn’t respond, waiting for him to go on.

“I have told them we are doing the best that we can. Your father seems content with that answer. Your mother doesn’t. We need to appear to be much more… in love… than we are.” He explained. You shuddered at the thought of being with child.

The two of you walked out of your shared room and you let out a sigh, “Genya told me you have brought company. The Sun Summoner.”

He gave you a little nod and looked down at you, “Yes. And we must appear united to her, too. She needs to trust me. Trust the Grisha. How is she to trust me if my own wife doesn’t?” He asked and then gave you an accusatory look.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just don’t want this.” You managed to say.

He gave you a pitiful smile and then shook his head, “Neither of us want this. But this is our reality. The sooner you accept it, the sooner it will be more comfortable.”

You searched his face for a very long moment and then you shifted your eyes away from his face, “I will never be comfortable in a reality where I have no say.” You stated, challengingly.

“Princess, with all due respect,” he began, leading you down the hallway, “you didn’t have a say to begin with.” He finished, sounding amused.

You scoffed, appalled by his boldness, “I’m allowed to be frustrated. I’m trapped in a loveless marriage!”

He shushed you sharply and looked down at you, giving you a scolding look, “What am I to do about these horrible outbursts you’ve been having?” He asked, his tone low.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer him. You just continued walking alongside him.

You passed a couple of Grisha girls in the hallway, and one of them gave The Darkling a particularly fond smile, wiggling her fingers in what was sure to be a seductive wave. You narrowed your eyes and tugged him along, past the others and towards the Grand Palace determinedly. Your husband stopped you from walking just a second later and he sighed, shaking his head almost dejectedly.

“We need to escort Alina to the Grand Palace.” He explained. You raised an eyebrow.

“Alina?” You asked, pulling your arm away from his and placing your hands on your hips, “Is she your mistress?” You demanded, stamping your foot down against the marble floors. The Darkling rolled his eyes at your insolence and if you hadn’t felt so angry, you might have also rolled your eyes at your behavior.

“Alina is the Sun Summoner.” He answered plainly and then leaned down towards your face. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, and it seemed absurd. He’d never made any advances on you, he’d not even tried to befriend you, really. He kept going until his lips brushed the shell of your ear and he chuckled into it, “I wouldn’t take you to meet my mistress. Your sour attitude might spoil the fun I have with her.” He whispered smugly and then pulled away from your ear.

You stared up at him, wide eyed. Not only did he just insult you, but he’d just admitted to adultery. Your upper lip twitched and you brought your hand up involuntarily, bringing your palm up to his cheek quickly. The slap you left upon his face echoed in the empty hallway and you grit your teeth. He clearly didn’t expect it, because his head was turned to the side and his eyes were closed. Slowly he turned his head back to face you and his jaw was set angrily. His eyes were burning holes into your own, and if you were smart, you would’ve stopped there.

“Not only am I your wife but I am the Princess of Ravka. I outrank you by many people. Forget not who you speak to.” You hissed, trying to muster up the most bravery you’d ever tried to conjure before in your life, “You will respect me the way a subject should respect their Princess, but you will also respect me the way a husband should respect a wife. In love or not.” You snapped, feeling your bravery wane as he towered over you. Had he always been that tall?

You prepared yourself for his wrath. You’d never experienced it, but you’d heard rumors. He was formidable. There was a reason he led the Second Army, and you assumed it wasn’t posterity alone. But his wrath never came. Instead, a gentle hand took your chin and tipped your head upwards. He gave you a soft smile and you briefly thought he was going to apologize, to say it was a terrible joke and that he didn’t mean what he’d said. But he didn’t, not even close.

“Oh, sweet y/n. My darling wife. You may be the Princess, and for that you have my respect, but as my wife? You have none of it. Let me make that clear; I would fuck countless women- and men- before I even considered laying a finger on you. You could be the last girl in the world, and I still wouldn’t touch you.” He pulled away and offered his arm to you again, giving you a sweet smile.

You didn’t love him. In fact, you were quite sure now that you hated him. So why did his words sting so badly? You rapidly tried to blink away the tears that rushed to your eyes, and you stumbled back a bit. Footsteps echoed through the hall, but they sounded like they were underwater, and you could faintly hear someone call out for your husband. You went to lean your back up against the wall, but just as soon as you moved backwards, his hands came to your waist and he pulled you against his chest in what appeared to be a tender embrace.

He was petting your hair and shushing you, and you were too stunned to pull yourself away. Your forehead rested against his warm kefta and you sniffled loudly, catching a faint smell of leather and something sweet, something woodsy. Him. It’s what his sheets smelled like and what his room smelled like. The scent made your head hurt and you went to pull away, but his arms locked you in place.

“General, I- what’s going on?” A voice asked.

Yeah, General, you thought, what’s going on?

“Alina, this is my wife.” He answered smoothly, and it was almost amazing to you how he said “wife” so affectionately.

His arms loosened around your body and you slowly pulled away from him, keeping your head down as to hide your tear stained eyes and cheeks. You looked at the floor sadly, at your boots, his boots, and this Alina girl’s boots.

“Oh! Your Grace!” Alina breathed, curtsying to you respectfully.

You lifted your head and gave her a weak smile, “You must be the Sun Summoner.” You croaked, wanting to disappear into thin air.

“You must excuse her state, Miss Starkov,” your husband interjected, “it’s just that we’re both a bit disappointed right now.” He said coolly, “We’ve been trying for a child since our wedding night, and,” he paused and reached for your hand. You felt sick when he grabbed it and held it tightly in his own, as if he were soothing you, “well, we’ve had no luck.” he finished, giving your hand a little squeeze.

“My apologies, General- and Princess.” She said quietly and you gave her another small smile but didn’t speak.

“We must be going, Miss Starkov. You need to meet the rest of the royal family.“ he urged and pulled you against his side, “Come, follow us.”

The week following the arrival of Alina Starkov was grey. The clouds hung ominously in the sky, and every so often, it would rain just a little bit. You’d spent most of your time sitting by the window in your husband’s room, silent. He’d spend much of his time away from you, and you were grateful for that. The only time you saw him in the past seven days had been only when the two of you went to bed. So it was odd when the doors to the room were opened and you could hear his familiar footsteps on the floor. You didn’t turn around to greet him, but eventually you could sense him standing right behind you. You sat on the window seat wrapped in a thick, black blanket, and you very slowly turned your head around to face him. He was already looking down at you. His beard had been freshly trimmed and shaped, you noted, and his dark eyes shone in the grey light that seeped through the clouds. He let out a long sigh.

“I owe you an apology.” He remarked.

You looked the man up and down and then shrugged, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. You hadn’t uttered a word to him since the day you met Alina, and perhaps that was driving him insane. You couldn’t be sure, though. He was always so calm and collected, never letting a single emotion slip through the cracks of his steely armor. He slowly sank to his knees beside you and he was now level with your face, his eyes meeting yours.

“Prin- y/n…” he corrected himself and then pursed his lips for a silent moment. Finally, he let a breath out through his nose, “y/n, the way I spoke to you was out of line. You are correct when you say I ought to respect you, not only as my wife, but as the Princess of the country I swear allegiance to.”

You eyed him warily and leaned your head back against the wall, a little frown forming on your lips. You weren’t overly sure how to react to his apology. You weren’t even sure of why he was apologizing. You gave him another little shrug and he cocked his head slightly to the side.

“I know all too well that this marriage wasn’t wanted by either of us. We are having a hard time… adjusting. That’s to be expected. If we cannot be lovers, we should at least be able to be friends. We have a long life ahead of us.” He explained.

You listened to what he said and blinked a few times. You sniffed once to fill the silence and then you shook your head, “I don’t know how to be friends with you, Sir.” You replied after a while, looking back out the window.

“Okay, perhaps not friends, but we need amicability to survive this.” He spoke, and the soft tone of his voice drew your attention back to him.

You hated to admit how beautiful he was, how enticing he was. You’d heard many people in the Grand Palace and the Little Palace alike whisper about how they’d wanted him, but no one would ever make a move. For one, he was married to the princess, and if that wasn’t enough, usually his intimidating demeanor deterred anyone brave enough to ignore you. You searched his face for any trace of emotion, or even deception, but you found none.

“I don’t forgive you. But I agree with what you’ve said, and I appreciate your apology.” You said finally, tracing your finger against the inside of the blanket you held. You looked into his eyes and he gave you a very small smile.

“I’m going riding with Miss Starkov. I will be back for dinner. I’ll have the servants draw you a hot bath.” He said, rising to his feet.

You watched him stand and you nodded once, “Okay. Thank you.” You murmured and turned to look back out the window again.

It had begun to rain.

“I heard it was rather romantic!”

“Well, that’s what I heard too, but how romantic could it be?”

“There’s something romantic about sneaking into his war room… especially when his wife is asleep just a room away.”

“That’s just plain dangerous, don’t you know the Princess could have her head?”

Your fingers trembled as you held your teacup, eyes fixed pointedly on your husband’s face as he sipped his own tea and seemed to look everywhere but you. The voices from two Grisha a table over were completely audible to your ears and you slammed your teacup down on the table. This seemed to grab The Darkling’s attention and he narrowed his eyes a bit before he shook his head.

“What are you doing?” He asked quietly and reached across the table to gently hold your wrist.

“I’ve had it with your gossiping Grisha. I’ve heard the same stories all week. Every time I come to have tea or a meal, it’s all anyone can talk about.” You said critically.

You were referring to six days prior. Alina had wandered into your husband’s war room, a room adjacent to your shared bedroom. You weren’t, in fact, asleep. You’d been up reading while you waited on sleep to come to you, but to no avail. The Darkling often spent most of his night in the war room at his war table or his desk, going over plans, strategies, and whatever else he deemed important. Apparently she couldn’t sleep, and according to every rumor you’d heard, the two had shared a particularly intimate moment. Whether it was true or not, you’d never know. The man was evasive whenever you asked him about it. Whatever happened, the gossip was running rampant around the Little Palace and likely the Grand Palace now. You’d wondered if your parents had heard. The thought made you recoil.

“My dear, it’s silly gossip.” He insisted and you slowly rose from the table and gave him an overly sweet smile, a smile without a trace of sincerity behind it.

“Will it be silly when I tell my father of its truth?” You asked, batting your lashes at him innocently.

His mouth twitched and you could see that you’d angered him slightly. You’d been getting rather good at that of late.

“Y/n.” The Darkling warned and slowly stood up from the table as well, walking towards you. His hand found its way to your back and he promptly led you out of the dining hall. You only followed without protest because you didn’t want to give anyone more reasons to gossip about your clearly loveless marriage.

There was enough of that already.

You followed him into the hallway and all the way across the Little Palace, and finally back into his quarters. He closed the door behind him and he gave you a look up and down before you turned on your heel and went to sit on a chair in the corner of the room.

“What happened to having a united appearance?” You asked in a bored tone, crossing your legs stiffly as you looked up at him. He stayed by the doors and thought for a while before sighing.

“Would it really bother you so much if I had shared such a moment with Alina?” He asked and took a step towards you.

You scoffed, “Please. I couldn’t care less who you have affections for. Alas, as you said, I could be the last girl alive and you wouldn’t touch me. But keep your affairs private.” You snapped, but the words were bitter in your mouth.

He stared at you for a long while and then he chuckled and shook his head, leaning up against his war table. He seemed amused. He didn’t seem to be taking you seriously, and this made you angry. You stood up from the chair and stomped over to him, standing less than a foot away from the much taller man.

You jabbed your finger against the center of his chest, “I mean it. You will not drag my name down with you just because you are aching to have some girl warm your bed! I am the Princess, I will be respected as such! You will not stand-“

His cold, rough hands flew to your cheeks and he roughly pulled you forward as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You didn’t know how to react at first, so you stood there, shocked. Then came panic. You’d only ever been kissed once before, and it had been nothing like this. A peck on the lips from a suitor, a goodbye kiss. This was different. Your husband’s mouth was soft and warm, and the kiss was intense. You tentatively returned his kiss with clumsy, inexperienced lips, and finally he pulled away, dropping his hands away from your face. Your cheeks felt hot and you stared up at him confusedly, trying to make sense of whatever had just happened.

Your husband stared back at you, almost as if he were surprised that he’d done that, too.

“You’ve never been kissed before.” He commented, and your cheeks heated up even more.

Was it that obvious? You looked away and then sniffed.

“Not like that.” You remarked, suddenly becoming hyper aware of your heart, which was beating faster than normal in your chest. Could he hear that? Surely not. But weren’t there Grisha that could? Was he one of them? Why did he kiss you? You bombarded yourself with questions and placed a hand on your temple.

“Don’t overthink it, Princess.” His voice rang out through the noise in your head and you blinked up at him.

His expression was unreadable and you slowly backed away from the Darkling. He looked so put together, so immaculate. His face was cool and his posture was perfect, not a hair was out of place on his head. You on the other hand? You were sure your cheeks were as hot as the fireplace burning in the corner of the room, and your hair felt disheveled. You wanted to slap him across the face for kissing you, and you wanted to ask him why. You doubted you’d ever get an answer, though. Months had gone by since your union, and he’d not so much as held your hand or told you that you looked beautiful. So this kiss? It was currently making your head hurt.

Were you even attracted to the man? You wondered. He was breathtaking, you didn’t need to like him to admit that.

A hand wrapped itself around your arm and you recognized it as his. You looked up at him, surprised as he carefully pulled you back towards him.

“Hey, I told you not to overthink it. Go get ready for dinner. We will be dining with your parents.” He instructed.

You nodded dumbly and moved away from him, far enough and fast enough this time so that he couldn’t pull you back and you quickly walked into your bedroom, mind still racing.

“We hardly see you anymore, have you gotten any of the dresses I’ve sent for you, darling?” Your mother’s voice rang out across the dining table, and you looked up from your third glass of wine and gave her a smile.

“Mhm, thank you, Mother.” You replied, swirling the wine in your glass before you finished it.

Your mind had been reeling for the past three hours, replaying the kiss you and your husband had shared. It was strange to think about. You didn’t think he was even slightly attracted to you. Maybe he was just… desperate? No, that couldn’t be it, surely. He could get anyone he wanted, it wasn’t like you were all that there was. And didn’t he swear that even if you were the last person alive that he wouldn’t want you that way? You blinked a few times and reached out for the crystal decanter full of wine and you poured yourself another glass, your head feeling nice and empty.

A hand clasped your forearm gently and you looked up to see your husband staring down at you.

“My love, are you listening?” He asked and eyed you, almost concernedly.

You looked at him for a moment longer before you looked around the table to see your mother, your father, and your brother staring at you.

“What? What was said?” You asked, not recalling hearing anyone speak.

“Darling, girl. Your mother asked you a question.” The General said with a soft, amused laugh.

You eyed him for a moment through narrowed eyes and then you looked at your mother. Your cheeks felt warm and you began to feel very light. You let out a pleasant sounding sigh and then smiled at your mother.

“Sorry, what did you ask, Mother?” You asked, your tongue feeling a bit too big for your mouth.

“I asked if you have gotten the chance to wear that pretty purple gown I had made for you.” She said, her thin eyebrow arching slightly.

You thought for a moment, bringing your hand up to your forehead, “Purple gown?” You echoed, trying to picture it. You tried your hardest to picture the dress she spoke of, but your mind began to wander again. Back to the kiss.

You turned your eyes away from your mother and now looked at your husband. He was looking across the table at your mother as well, his big, brown eyes fixed on the woman politely. His chiseled jaw moved and you realized he was speaking, but you couldn’t be bothered to listen. His voice seemed far away, anyhow. His prominent nose and strong cheekbones were highlighted in the evening light, making his side profile appear even more impressive than usual. You sighed quietly when your gaze traveled to his lips and stayed there, unwavering.

Slowly, he turned his head towards you and gave you a very soft smile.

“My love, you are drunk.” He spoke. You opened your mouth to protest, but giggled instead.

“I think we should’ve taken her drink away after the first glass.” Vasily grumbled from across the table.

This made you scowl and you turned to your brother with an annoyed glower, “Oh, shut up, Vasily. You drink the town dry whenever you’re able.” You retorted, folding your arms over your chest defiantly.

“Don’t you two start-“ your father began, but Vasily stood up from the table abruptly.

“You are the Princess of Ravka. You will act like it. That means you present yourself well at all times- even around just your family.” He said haughtily.

You and your brother seldom got along. Perhaps it was because he had much more traditional beliefs about gender roles and had a strong lean towards a patriarchal dynamic in the palace, or maybe it was because you had bonded with your half brother, Nikolai, much better than he and Vasily had bonded.

You opened your mouth to argue back at him, but a strong hand grabbed your shoulder and you looked up to see that your husband now stood over you. He held your shoulder gently and he gave your parents both an apologetic smile.

“Your majesties, I think I’m going to take our lovely princess back to the Little Palace. Don’t judge her too harshly, please. We have both been struggling with… our lack of child.” He explained with a voice as soft as velvet.

Silver tongued bastard.

Your mother placed a sympathetic hand over her chest and she nodded once, a sad look covering her face, “Oh, we pray to the Saints every night that you two will find luck. I know how hard it’s been for you two.” She said sadly, looking over to your father who was now nodding along with her.

You tried to stand up from the chair, but the black silk of your gown caught underneath your shoe, and you stumbled a bit. Your husband easily caught you, and in one fluid motion, he lifted you up into his arms. You threw your arms around his neck and laid your head on his shoulder. He smelled just as you had remembered from weeks ago, only now it seemed more inviting.

You heard him bid your family goodbye and then you felt his body move slightly with each graceful step he took. Once both of you were out of earshot of anyone else, you heard your husband sigh softly through his nose. You looked up at him from where your head laid on his shoulder.

“I do believe this is the first time I’ve seen you… intoxicated.” He remarked, his tone even, “You drinking for any particular reason, Princess?” He asked.

You stared at his hair and reached up to twirl the ends of it around your fingertip, “Just having some wine, that okay with you, husband?” You asked with a mirthful giggle, giving his hair a gentle tug.

You watched the corner of his lip tugged upwards in a smile and he glanced down at you, “You about gave your brother a seizure.” He remarked and then pushed open the doors to the courtyard with his foot.

The cool evening air made your warm cheeks feel nice and you closed your eyes, your fingers still absentmindedly twisting about in your husband’s hair, “He is… a handful.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve watched him grow up.” He remarked and you furrowed your eyebrows.

His words confused you for a moment but then you recalled that he didn’t really age. Not like you, anyway. Grisha perk, you guessed.

“So that means you’ve watched me do the same, I guess.” You hummed, trying to think back to your earliest memory of The Darkling.

“Yes and no.” He replied, “In the years following you and Vasily being born, I was often away on business. And besides, you two were often in lessons or doing whatever it is royal children do. I can recall seeing you in the flesh maybe four times before you turned sixteen.” He explained.

You thought for a moment and then you let out a sigh, your hand falling away from his hair, “That’s… weird.” You murmured, trying to wrap your head around it, “So you’re like… old? How old? Like, fifty?” You asked, growing more curious.

“No, not fifty, darling. One hundred twenty.” He replied idly and then he chuckled, “Serving for your family has been in my family for quite some time.” His tone was amused and you lifted your head away from his shoulder.

“Was it weird when we got married then?” You asked and blinked slowly, your eyes adjusting to the dim light outside.

He thought for a moment and then he shook his head, “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say it was ‘weird’. Your father initially wanted to marry you off to one of Ketterdam’s richest politicians. But your poor mother wept whenever he’d bring it up. I mean, at this point you were an adult. It was time in their eyes for you to be married off. Eventually your parents offered me your hand and I figured that it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. I mean, you’d still be home, after all, and at least I can ensure that you aren’t… made to be a traditional wife.” He explained, looking down at your face.

“Traditional wife..?” You asked confusedly.

“Princess, you have lived a rather luxurious life. Both your mother and your father have gone very easy on you. But I’ve seen past princesses married off to be bred like dogs and that’s all.” He had your attention now, and you looked into his eyes while he spoke, “I think that you have grown up to be an exceptionally intelligent and remarkable girl, that needn’t be wasted on some pig from Ketterdam who wants your children for status.” He said firmly, his eyes never leaving yours.

He walked up the steps to the front doors of the Little Palace and two guards opened the doors for you two. He stepped inside and you took a moment to process his words. It was without a doubt, the nicest thing he’d ever said to you. You stayed silent in thought the whole way back to your shared bedroom, and before you knew it, you were being gently placed on the edge of the bed. Your husband knelt before you and was busying himself with getting your boots unlaced, his eyes focused on the task at hand. Your mind swirled with his words and you could almost hear him in your mind, telling you not to overthink it.

Too late for that.

“If you think I’m so intelligent and remarkable, why do you hate me?” You whispered, looking down at him. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth anxiously and awaited his answer.

For a while, you wondered if he had even heard you, because he didn’t speak. Instead, he simply pulled your boots off and reached underneath your dress chastely to pull your tights off. He looked up at you after he had freed your legs from their stocking smothered prison, straightening up a bit. Even though you were sitting on your bed and he was on his knees before you, he was almost level with your face, and you found yourself only having to shift your head downwards slightly.

“I don’t hate you, y/n.” He replied slowly, his hands coming to rest on your dress over your calves.

“You certainly could have fooled me.” You said slowly, your head spinning. You chalked it up to the wine.

He took his time responding again, and when he did, you had almost forgotten what you two had been speaking about.

“Sweetheart, you’ve had much to drink tonight. I don’t think we need to be getting into these conversations while you are drunk.” He replied softly and then he stood up.

He left the room promptly and you felt your eyes well up with tears. You did not want to cry, especially over him, but it also felt like you two were having some sort of breakthrough tonight. Just as the first tear fell, he entered the room again, and he walked towards you determinedly. When he saw the tear rolling down your cheek, he reached down and wiped it away with his thumb. You looked up into his dark, endless eyes and you frowned.

“Why did you kiss me?” You asked, finally having the courage to speak about the thing that had been giving you not a moment’s peace all evening.

He grabbed your hands gently and pulled you off of the bed and turned you around. He began to unlace your dress with skilled fingers and you were suddenly very self conscious, “I kissed you because I saw no other way to quiet your outburst.” He replied coolly, fingers still moving quickly to unlace your dress, “I’m having a bath drawn for you. Let’s just get you out of these clothes, yeah?” He asked softly.

At first, you felt a bit disappointed when he told you that the kiss was only a means to quiet you, but then you were confused as to why you were even disappointed in the first place.

Your husband pulled your dress down your body and you shivered slightly as his fingers brushed your shoulder blades. Instantly, you were covered by something cold to the touch and you looked down to see your husband had draped a silk robe over your body. You slipped your arms into it and he helped you step out of your dress before you quickly tied the robe closed with clumsy, drunk fingers. You puffed your cheeks out and turned around, expecting The Darkling to be across the room, but instead, he was right in front of you, just inches away.

“Woah.” You murmured, taken aback by his close proximity. You stumbled back just slightly, but your husband had reflexes like you’d never seen. He caught you by your arms and steadied you, looking down into your eyes.

You gazed up into his eyes and you tried to stay focused on his stare, but your eyes strayed to his lips. You flickered your gaze between his lips and his eyes for a moment before you stood on your tiptoes and leaned forward, intent on kissing him again.

You hardly moved forward, and were confused as to why, until you realized he was holding you back. You looked up at him with a pathetic frown and you stuck your bottom lip out.

“Do I need to have another outburst for you to let it happen again?” You asked, the words leaving your mouth before you had a chance to even think them over.

“You are drunk, y/n. I’m not going to let that happen.” He said sternly.

You felt your cheeks heat up, you felt… rejected. The feeling left a sour taste in your mouth and you looked down, avoiding his stare. You wished things could go back to the way they had been just hours ago, before he had kissed you. You wished that he’d yell at you or insult you again, anything other than reject you. You wished he’d let go of you and let you run across the courtyard and back into your old bedroom, where he ceased to exist as your husband, where the kiss never happened, where you were unwed and happily reading alone.

A tap on the doorframe pulled you out of your head and you both looked at the servant who stood there.

“The bath is warm and ready whenever she is, Sir.”

He nodded once and turned to you with a weak smile, “Go. Get in the bath. Call for me if you need help.” He said softly, sending you on your way.

You haphazardly made your way to the bathroom and dropped your robe. You closed the door hurriedly and then stepped into the hot bath. Although the water was slightly too hot for your liking, you still sunk down into it, arms wrapped around yourself tightly.

You thought that maybe the hot water would scald the thoughts of The Darkling right out of your head.

You were disappointed to find that it did no such thing.

Your husband had been avoiding you.

If he wasn’t, he was doing a very poor job being around, and if he was, then he was succeeding with flying colors. He’d been so keen on not being around you ever since the night of having dinner with your parents.

That was nearly five days ago now.

Now you sat alone in a room full of other Grisha, picking uncomfortably at your lunch. Under any normal circumstance, your husband would at the very least eat with you, but he didn’t seem to be interested in keeping up appearances with you anymore. You shifted awkwardly in your chair and set your spoon down, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on you. You stared off into your bowl of soup for a while, wondering when it was socially acceptable to stand up and abandon your untouched lunch. You had only just decided that you were going to leave when the doors to the dining hall opened up. You didn’t even have time to stand before your husband walked inside.

But he wasn’t alone.

Alina Starkov was politely clutching his arm and he was ushering her inside. You pressed your lips together, feeling even more gazes settle upon you than before. Abruptly, you stood up from your table and met your husband’s eyes with a challenging stare. When he looked at you, so did Alina. She almost for a fleeting second looked guilty, but then her gaze turned pitiful and at the same time almost… prideful.

You sniffed once and stood completely still as the pair began to approach you. You ran your tongue along the backs of your teeth as the two grew closer and closer, and you willed yourself not to have what your husband would call “an outburst.”

Once they were a mere three feet away from you, you watched your husband’s face melt into a sickeningly sweet smile and he held his hand out for you.

“My love, I was thinking-“

“Your Grace.” You corrected sharply. Every voice in the room stopped all at once and now you were sure every single eye was on you.

“Pardon me?” Your husband asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You will call me ‘Your Grace’. I am the princess. You will give me the respect of formalities.” You chided, feeling an unbridled sense of anger warm your veins.

He looked taken aback, and he stood there silently, waiting for whatever else you had to say. But you were done. You pushed your chair in and you looked Alina up and down once before you shouldered past your husband, making a beeline directly out of the dining hall.

You marched with intent back into your shared bedroom and you made quick work of pulling all of your clothes out of the sleek black armoire that had been dedicated to your numerous dresses. With a look of disgust, you left each black piece hanging in the armoire and tossed the rest onto the bed. You made a large pile of your clothes and blankets and you gathered them all into your arms, albeit struggling to get a hold of the clothes.

You were ready to get out of the Little Palace. You formulated a plan as you hobbled across the room to the door, holding the pile of gowns in your arms. You’d go back to the Grand Palace and you’d beg and beg, and even cry if you had to, to your parents to get you out of this marriage and let you marry someone- anyone- else. Perhaps you’d tell them he was cruel, or perhaps you’d say you’d never bear a child because the Grisha can’t procreate. You huffed angrily as you kicked your bedroom door open, and you shuffled out of the room, not able to see over the mountain of dresses in your arms. You were your parents’ favorite, after all. Surely they’d make this allowance for you just this once.

You hadn’t even made it halfway down the hallway before you bumped into someone. You let out a small sigh and craned your neck around the clothes. You caught a glimpse of a black Kefta around your dresses and you shook your head, trying to go around him. He stepped in front of you again, blocking you from walking away.

“I am not doing this with you.” You deadpanned, “So get out of my way and let me go. The sooner we can get this… arrangement ended, the sooner you and I can just live our own lives, General.”

But he didn’t respond. Instead he sidestepped you and grabbed your shoulders in a steel-like grip and steered you against your will back to the bedroom. You dropped your dresses to the floor once you were in the bedroom and you gaped up at him angrily. His face didn’t show a single emotion other than maybe mild annoyance, and this made you even angrier. You pursed your lips tightly and stared up at him defiantly, folding your arms across your chest.

“Breaking our ‘arrangement’ would mean you’d be married off to someone who will not give you free will.” He finally said, taking a half step closer to you.

“I don’t care. I hate you.” You said, childishly.

“You don’t hate me. You are cross with me. You sound like a child, right now.” He remarked and you shook your head.

“No. I hate you. I mean, I really hate you. You cannot make up your mind! We get married and you’re kind to me, and not even a month later you’re as cold as ice! Then you tell me that you wouldn’t touch me if I was the last person alive! But then you kiss me? Take care of me when I’m drunk, you’re all… gentle with me. And now you’re avoiding me, sneaking around with her. Make no mistake, I couldn’t care less who you really love, but this isn’t fair to me!” You exclaimed, your voice growing less angry and more… hurt, much to your dismay, “You might think you’re in the right, marrying me for noble reasons, but I’m…” you trailed off and you leaned back against the wall next to the door and you slid down slowly, until you were sitting on the cold floor, your dress pooling around your legs.

He waited for you to continue, not speaking. His eyes never left your face once and you felt the familiar burn of his gaze on you. The even more familiar sting of tears began to form over your eyes and you brought your hands up to your face.

“I’m tired of pretending that I’m okay with a chivalrous at best marriage. This is never what I wanted,” you started, your voice wavering, “I would rather risk it all and take my chances with someone else if it meant there was a slight chance of finding someone who actually loves me.” You finished in a whisper, keeping your face in your hands.

He was silent and you expected this. You expected him to smooth it over and tell you that it was okay, that this marriage was for the best, and then leave again. You expected him to go back to Alina and spend the rest of the day with her, as he had the past five days.

What you didn’t expect was to feel his hands gently pull you to your feet by your arms. You didn’t look at him, you didn’t want to, so you opted for looking down at the tips of your boots. You were so close to him that you could smell him, just as you had when he carried you back to your bedroom. Except, now the smell wasn’t inviting. Now, it made your head hurt and it made your chest tighten. You pressed your lips together as tightly as you could and said nothing, hoping that he’d just leave you alone.

His cold fingers grabbed ahold of your chin and he tilted your head up towards his and he looked down into your tear-glossed eyes. You felt your bottom lip quiver as you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose. You wanted to pull away, you wanted to at the very least, look away, but he held your gaze. His face had no emotion on it, but you could see in his eyes that his mind was racing, like he didn’t know what to do. You shakily reached up and grabbed his wrist in your smaller hand and you pried his hand away from your face. You gave him an apologetic smile and you took a step back.

“You know this is for the best.” You whispered.

“Best for who?” He asked, quickly, as if he didn’t even think about it.

You were taken aback, “For both of us. This way you can be with Alina, just like you want, and I can have a shot at finding real love. It’s for the best.” You insisted, taking another step back.

You didn’t get far, because The Darkling’s hands moved quickly to grab your waist and pull you back towards him.

“I disagree.” He whispered, “You are just scared. This isn’t what’s best. You’re just frightened. Frightened that you may have feelings for me, frightened that I don’t return them. Frightened that I have affections for Alina.”

You furrowed your brow and you looked up at him and shook your head, “That’s not…” you trailed off and fell silent. You refused to contemplate his words, and maybe it’s because you knew he was right. It was impossible not to be somewhat attracted to him, by his looks alone. You shook your head again and tried to step away, but he wasn’t letting you go anywhere.

“You’re making this worse.” You whispered and closed your eyes, your lips pursing.

“Let me make it better, then.” He said in a low tone.

“I don’t want you to make it better.” You insisted.

“If you wanted love, little princess, all you needed to do was tell me.” He murmured, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face gently.

“I don’t want to.” You argued, but the way you leaned your face into the palm of his hand was a bit contradictory.

“Then what is it that you do want?” He asked, thumb brushing slowly across your cheekbone, his cold skin sending a chill through your body.

“I…” you began, tears pooling in your eyes. They slowly rolled down your cheeks as you looked up at him, your bottom lip trembling, “I want you to love me.” You admitted, shame heating your cheeks.

The silence between the two of you was palpable and you went to move away from him again, but he pulled you back into place once more. His thumbs caught each tear that rolled down your cheeks, though it seemed pointless with how many were falling. You two stayed like that for a long time, until your husband coaxed your head forward. He gently laid your head down against his chest and he wrapped both of his arms around your waist, a gesture that would have left you speechless if you weren’t already out of words to say.

His hand laid against the back of your head and he slowly began to rock you from side to side, as if it would soothe you. There was so much you wanted to ask him, but the questions would leave your mind as soon as they came. Part of you wanted to pull away from him, leave him behind like you’d planned, but the other part couldn’t even consider leaving his embrace.

So you didn’t.

#grishaverse #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #the darkling imagine #the darkling x you #the darkling imagine #the darkling #the darkling x reader #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes imagine

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imaginespazzi · 7 months ago

Text

Part 4: The Art of Letting Go

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Only know you love her when (she lets you) go

(In which a still very sadistic writer make things a lot worse but only so they can get a little bit better)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt with very little comfort

Words: 7.9K

TW: Car Accidents, Panic Attacks, Swearing

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I know I'm very, very late with this and I love you all for being so patient. I don't really know how I feel about this chapter but it is what it is. Logistical details are probably a little off but I need things to work for the plot, so try and ignore that. Per usual I did edit (very loosely and I'll probably go back over it later), there are probably typos anyways. And as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't, and what you'd like to see in the future. Happy reading lovelies and let's get a W this weekend. <3

December 2023

A week or so after they get back from the Cayman Islands, Azzi feels like she’s been sleep-walking through life, everything around her hazy and dull. She religiously sticks to a routine of eat-study-practice-sleep. Except well, sleep isn’t really sleeping. It’s her brain conjuring images of blonde hair and blue eyes and Azzi forcing herself to wake-up from a nightmare that used to be her favourite dream.

She doesn’t tell anyone what happened, lying to herself it’s because it would be embarrassing and not because it would mean having to face the truth. Still, it doesn’t mean that her teammates can’t piece together little bits. There must be something quite sinister about the air around her, because none of her normally nosy and eager-to-help sisters try to weasel any information out of Azzi. They act like they always have, only sharing worried looks behind her back when the façade of i’m doing fine slips momentarily when she thinks no one’s watching.

And then that façade goes to hell over the span of a couple of hours.

It starts with the inevitable breakup with Zoe. At first Azzi avoids it, making up excuses as to why she can’t see her girlfriend. Selfishly, there’s a part of her that wants to keep Zoe, keep a girl who would never leave, never make her feel anything less than (or more than) just content. But it’s not fair, Azzi knows that, and it’s why she practises her it’s not you, it’s me speech to perfection in front of the mirror. When she goes to message Zoe that she's coming over, the text chain causes a pinch of guilt in her heart at the contrast between her girlfriend’s hopeful tone versus her own nonchalant one. And Azzi thinks that Zoe will never really understand just how similar the two of them are, stuck at wanting someone who would always let them down. Only, Azzi will let Zoe free but when it comes to her herself, she’s pretty sure she’s destined to be trapped forever.

It’s embarrassing to admit that Azzi remembers the apartment in Storrs that she’d visited barely a handful of times a lot more than she remembers the apartment she’s currently in, the one that belongs to her girlfriend. Zoe sits rigidly on the couch with the same reserved, guarded expression she’s had since she’d opened the door, clearly aware of what was about to happen. Her foot taps incessantly as the silence between them drags on.

“You deserve better,” Azzi says finally, keeping her eyes firmly locked on the floor.

“No,” Zoe’s voice is cold, “don’t say shit like that. It’s a cop out. It’s the shit people say to make themselves feel better-”

“Zoe-”

“Don’t be a fucking coward Azzi. Look me in the eye and say it, say exactly what you’re here to.”

Azzi doesn’t want to do any of that. She wants to crumble to the ground and let it swallow her until she’s buried so far away from the mess she’s created. But she owes Zoe this. When she does look at Zoe, there’s this look in the other girl’s eyes that Azzi had never thought herself capable of evoking in anyone and she has to swallow away the bile that rises in her throat, disgusted by her own self.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Azzi whispers. Her words linger in the air, like shrapnel after an explosion. Zoe flinches, a single tear trickling down her face.

“There it is,” the Californian says quietly, the ghost of an ironic smile playing on her lips, “I knew it was coming but damn- there it is.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“For what-” Zoe cuts herself, “no actually don’t- don’t answer that. I think I know.”

Azzi draws in a deep breath, ready to confess, “I need to tell-”

“Please-”

“Z-”

“Please,” Zoe sobs, “please don’t tell me. I don’t wanna hear it okay? I don’t- I don’t want to hate you Azzi. It’s too much and I don’t- I just- I’m so tired of feeling so much for you when you don’t- when you feel so little for me.”

“That’s not true,” Azzi counters helplessly, her words ringing hollow to her own ears.

“Fucking hell you just ended it Azzi, you don’t have to pretend anymore. And it’s okay because I get it. You can’t feel any more than what little you do for me because- because you’ve already given the rest of it away. And it’s not- it’s not like I didn’t know you know? I only ever met you because you were crying over her. You only let me into your life because you missed her. And now you have her,” Zoe says wistfully.

It’s terrible the way everything else becomes white noise as Azzi’s ear latches on the last sentence, a sentence that couldn’t be any further away from the truth. She was prepared for the accusations, for Zoe to hurl every curse word in the book at her, but this, the unintended reminder that she was giving up on soft, sweet, gentle Zoe for something that she didn’t have, hurts far more than any words could.

“This isn’t about-”

Zoe’s quick to cut Azzi off, pushing herself off the couch they had been sharing, trying to put even more space in between them, “please do not insult my intelligence by finishing that sentence. I deserve that much at least.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are because I know- I know who you are Azzi and I know you’re a good person and that’s why- that’s why I don’t wanna know okay? Whatever you did- whatever happened- just let me- just let me have this. Let me remember you as someone good- someone great,” Zoe pleads.

“If that’s what you want Zo,” Azzi answers weakly, the guilty clawing at her heart. She doesn’t think she deserves to be remembered like that, doesn’t think she’s worthy of being thought of with fondness, not anymore.

Zoe doesn’t make any acknowledgement of Azzi having spoken as she starts to pace, “I should have known. You know the day I met her this summer, I got it- the appeal- I got it immediately. She has this aura, this charm. She just- she just fucking glows you know? And she’s just- she’s this huge entity and so are you and I’m just,” she lets out a hollow laugh as she shrugs, “I’m just a girl from Stockton, California.”

“And you’re amazing,” Azzi puts up a hand when Zoe tries to cut her off again, “you are. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you for what you did for me last year. You could have walked away that day and maybe- maybe one day you’ll think you should have. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Zoe. You do deserve better. It’s not a cop out. It’s the truth.”

Since she was younger, Azzi’s always hated endings. This time is no different. The bitter truth is that she probably won’t miss her girlfriend, but she will miss the friend that had gotten her through one of the toughest years of her life. Slowly, Azzi picks herself off of the couch and walks over to a still Zoe, squeezing her left hand once before heading towards the door.

“Azzi,” Zoe calls out, just as Azzi has one foot out the door, “I hope it works out for the two of you. You and Paige always did just seem inevitable.”

***

She blames the fact she’s currently stuck in the terrible LA traffic, with the word inevitable ringing in her ears, for the way her fingers continuously flicker over the green call button under Paige’s name. Zoe saying her name had been the first time in a week that Azzi had even let herself, in consciousness at least, think of the blonde properly. And now that it had been unleashed, whispers of Paige, Paige, Paige echo through every crevice of skull. The pain and anger that she’d been trying to shield herself from, come barraging into her heart as she’s held captive once again by thoughts of her best friend.

It would be a lie to say that Azzi hadn’t been hoping for a call or a text to come through. She’d waited two days with bated breath for a friendly quip that would lead them back to their safe haven of just pretend. Instead it was as if they were back to being who they had been before summer of 2022 all over again. Back to being nothing. But this time Azzi had been adamant that if Paige was going to cut her off again, she wouldn’t fight it, not this time. Apparently that resolve was never meant to last and Azzi feels a little pathetic with how desperately she needs to hear Paige’s voice, how desperately she wants to try again.

The traffic clears just as she presses call and maybe that should have been a sign. Azzi’s not a bad driver per say, but as her dad always said, no one’s a good driver when they’re distracted. The phone rings for too long and she should take that as her next sign and accept it as Paige not wanting to talk, but she lets it continue to ring anyway, as she turns onto a more secluded road. And then-

“Hello,” the voice is unfamiliar and Azzi doesn’t really know Paige’s teammates, beyond Caroline, that well but she’s pretty certain this one doesn’t belong to any of them.

“Hi uh- who is this?” she manages to get out as her grip tightens on the steering wheel.

“Oh um- this is Rose, Paige’s friend” comes the reply, the word friend said with a sultry lilt and Azzi feels her skin prickle. Hang up.

“Why are you answering Paige’s phone?” her tone is far more accusatory than she’d like it to be.

“She’s in the bathroom but she told me to,” Rose answers defensively.

Azzi hesitates, she doesn’t need to know more except, “does she know who called?”

Because surely if she did, if Paige knew it was Azzi on the other line, she wouldn’t let one of her likely random hookups answer the phone, surely Paige would know what it would do, how it would make her feel.

“Uh yeah- I told her Azzi called and she seemed pretty sure she wanted me to pick up.”

Maybe Paige does know what it would do, does know how it would make Azzi feel, maybe that’s the whole fucking point. Through the phone she can hear quiet footsteps walking closer, towards Rose. When Paige is close enough that Azzi can make out the sound of her breathing, can almost picture the way her chest is heaving, that’s when the tears finally fall, blurring her vision.

She doesn’t see the blinking headlights rushing towards her until it’s too late and then she’s swerving. The world around her erupts in motion and light and noise, everything spinning and spinning and spinning. For one moment, as she loses complete control of her car, Azzi thinks maybe this is it. And the most terrifying part of it, is that for a second, she’s not all that opposed to the idea of this being the end. It’s a singular image of her parents in her brain that has her regaining her senses and hitting the brakes as hard as she can. Her tires screech as her car barrels into a tree and her entire body jerks around in her car, her seatbelt leaving burn scars against her neck. Azzi feels her heartbeat going haywire, as everything comes to a halt.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Rose’s panicked voice echoes.

“What?” and there’s Paige and even in this wreckage, Azzi’s heart stutters at the sound of her best friend.

“I think she crashed-”

“WHAT?” there’s frantic shuffling until, “Azzi? Azzi? Hello? Are you there? Fuck. Azzi are you okay? Please say something. C’mon Az. I know you’re there. Can you hear me? Please be okay. Azzi? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Azzi?”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth, trying to answer to the call of her name, but nothing comes out. She feels hot and cold all over at the same and she swears there’s a hand curled around her neck because she can’t fucking breathe.

“Azzi,” Paige says again desperately, “please say something.”

“P-Paige,” Azzi finally manages to stutter, her chest heaving as she gasps for air. There’s blood rushing to her ears and everything around her feels hazy.

“Azzi,” and that one syllable is wrapped in so much emotion, “I’m here okay, are you okay?”

No, Azzi thinks, I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay.

“I c-can’t breathe. I think” she grasps at her neck, “I th-think I’m having a panic attack.”

Paige curses under her breath, “okay, okay alright listen to me breathe okay? And try to match it okay?”

“O-okay,” Azzi whispers, pressing her head to her steering wheel as she tries to mimic Paige’s exaggerated deep breaths on the other end of the line.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me Azzi, just keep breathing okay,” Paige’s voice is far calmer than she probably is in reality, “just keep breathing with me okay.”

Azzi closes her eyes as she feels her chest slowly start to loosen up and lets herself be immersed by Paige’s soothing words of comfort. And for a second, it almost feels as if her best friend is right there with her. For a second, Azzi imagines that they’re on a whole other planet, just them in their little world, like it always should have been, like she’d once been so sure it would be. It’s a beautiful dream that reality is quick to gatecrash.

“Babe, is she okay?” Rose asks, and Azzi’s eyes fly open at the term of endearment. She’s not on a different planet. She’s alone. And Paige isn’t.

“I’m fine,” Azzi breathes out and then more firmly, “I’m fine.”

“Thank God,” Paige lets out a sigh of relief before her tone turns sour “what the actual fuck Azzi?”

Azzi winces at the loudness, pretty sure she might have a concussion from the way her head had crashed back into her headrest as she’d crashed into the tree in front of her.

“I’m fine,” she repeats assertedly, as everything around her slowly starts to make sense again. It’s not a lie really, at least not physically. There’s the potential concussion, and the litany of bruises she’s starting to feel all over her body but she’s pretty sure there’s nothing wrong internally. Well except for her stupid fucking heart but it wasn’t the accident that had fucked that organ up.

“You just crashed your fucking car, no you’re not fucking fine,” Paige yells, voice thick with tears.

“What the fuck do you care?” Azzi bites back, “sorry I interrupted your fucking night Paige. I swear it won’t happen again.”

She hangs up before Paige can say anything else, sitting deathly still for a second. And then she lets herself completely break apart.

***

74 missed calls from Paige

did u go to the hospital

pick up ur fucking phone

dude

azzi

this is not the time for this stubborn bullshit

PICK UP UR FUCKING PHONE

AZZI

just say ur ok at least

please

called ur mom

said u had a concussion and some bruising

thats not too bad

ur so fucking stupid

it could be so much worse

please pick up

AZZI FUCKING FUDD PICK UP UR PHONE

so u can call carol and not me ok

thats just fucking perfect

dude i feel like an accident > stupid fights

so maybe just pick up

or call me back

u wanna play this stupid game fine

ignore me for now

but i’mma be in dc for christmas

ur gonna have to talk to me

i know where u live

***

The box in Azzi’s arm feels freakishly heavy, like she’s holding the whole world inside of it. In a way, maybe she is. The walk up Paige’s dad’s driveway feels longer than it ever has and she’s fighting the urge to turn back with every step. As soon as she’d seen the vaguely threatening text message, Azzi had decided she would beat Paige to it. The night of the accident had put several things into perspective and Azzi was determined to finally grasp control of her own life.

It hasn’t been that long since the Cayman Island and so it hasn’t been that long since Azzi’s seen Paige. But when the door opens and she’s face to face with her best friend, despite the dread and anxiety that’s drowning her heart, Azzi still feels that beat of it’s cold but you always make me feel warm flutter in her chest. Paige smiles and Azzi’s arms wobble, drawing the blonde’s attention to the box in her arms.

“Still a couple of days till Christmas Az, a little early to give me my present,” Paige smirks lightly and Azzi feels a river of hot anger slide around her veins. After everything she’d put her through in the last couple of weeks, the fact that Paige could act so frivolous, as if they were still fine, makes Azzi see red.

Her voice is icier than the sheet of frost on the ground when she replies, “it’s not a Christmas present.”

Paige’s eyebrows knit together questioningly, “then-”

“It’s all your stuff I had lying around,” Azzi cuts in, trying to keep her voice confident and stable.

The smile disappears from Paige’s face as she studies Azzi's face, looking for some semblance of emotion beyond the blank stare.

“What?”

“All the things you’ve left at my house over the years, a couple of t-shirts, a hat, a book and a couple other things, they’re in this box,” Azzi says pointedly. She tries to hand it over but Paige is quick to move away from it, staring at the offending object as if it’s a ticking time bomb.

“What the actual fuck is going on Azzi?”

“I might have missed some things. Let me know if I have and I’ll mail them to you in the future,” Azzi recites clinically, keeping her demeanour stoic as possible “and of course I would like my things back as well. Not right now of course. You can mail them to me whenever it suits you.”

“Mail back your things? What? What the fuck are you going on about?” Paige asks, a bewildered expression taking on her face. She reaches out as if she wants to shake Azzi but seems to think better of it.

Azzi doesn’t say anything, as she sidesteps Paige into the house, putting in the utmost effort to make sure no part of herself brushes up against the older girl, knowing the inevitable burst of electricity when they touch would be enough to break her resolve. She places the box of Paige’s stuff on the coffee table in the living room, before turning back to Paige.

“I’m giving you your stuff back,” Azzi repeats, “I’m giving you what you want.”

“What I want? When did I ask for my stuff back?”

Azzi draws in a deep breath, fighting desperately against the screams of you don’t want this in her own head, “I’m giving you a clean break Paige. I’m letting you go.”

Saying those words feels a lot like free-falling. Her stomach lurches at the way Paige’s features scrunch up in pain and she’d never meant to do that, but Azzi’s so tired. She’s so tired of this push and pull, the way they seem to hurt each other every fucking time, the way things get so close to going right and then go wrong any way. The bitter truth of life, Azzi has forced herself to admit, is that it doesn’t matter how hard you fight, sometimes the darkness wins out anyway.

“You think-,” Paige stutters, clutching at her chest, “you think this is what I want?”

“Well isn’t it?”

“Of course n-”

“If I hadn’t called you that night would you have called me first Paige? If I hadn’t gotten into that stupid accident, would you even have texted me ever again?”

Paige’s silence is an answer in itself . And although Azzi had known it, she can’t deny that there’s a part of her that had posed the question hoping against hope that Paige would have answered it with a resounding yes of course. She thinks maybe she should be used to the singe of disappointment that burns her skin by now but she’s never been immune to Paige’s fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Azzi says quietly, “I’m tired of running after you Paige. I thought I was done after the Cayman Islands but then I- I don’t know- I don’t know why I called you that night when you- you clearly didn’t want that.”

“Azzi c’mon-”

“It’s my fault really. Because you've always been clear about it and I- for some reason- I just don’t listen. You were clear with it when you told me to go to UCLA and get out of your life. You were clear when you didn’t want me to come into your air BnB. You were clear when you told me to get out of the bathroom last summer. And when you left that night-,” Azzi pauses as Paige’s eyes widen, the words catching in her throat, “when you were gone that morning- every time you didn’t call- every time you didn’t text- you were always clear about it Paige and I- I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

“You’re being really fucking unfair right now,” Paige accuses, “you’re mad because I didn’t want to be your fucking side whore? I’m so sorry I had more self-respect than that Azzi.”

Azzi blinks rapidly, her face still completely neutral, “excuse me?”

“You wanna blame me for those first two things, fine. But you have a whole ass girlfriend and you wanted me to be what? Just a girl you can fuck occasionally because you feel like it? Who the fuck do you think I am? I deserve so much better than that.”

“I don’t-”

“You wanna know why I left that morning?” Paige asks icily, “I woke up and the first thing I saw is your girlfriend’s fucking i miss you text. All that shit you said to me when I kissed you in LA about not wanting to be one of my groupies or whatever but what did you want me to be Azzi?”

When they were young and naive, the largest fight they’d ever had was about whether or not one of them had cheated in a game of horse. The allegations of cheater from a 15 year old Paige had seemed massive back then, but they pale in front of the accusations of cheater from a 22 year old Paige. It’s not that Azzi thinks she’s some prime example of a good samaritan and she can deal with people thinking she’s not all that, but it’s different when it’s Paige, it’s different to know that Paige could ever think so low of her.

“You really think I’d do that you? That I’d make you my sidepiece or whatever?”

“What else am I supposed to think about you fucking me while you have a girlfriend?” Paige asks exasperatedly and Azzi flinches at the repeated use of the profanity.

“Had.”

“What?”

Azzi grips the hem of her shirt, trying to focus her eyes anywhere but Paige, “I had a girlfriend. Past tense.”

“You- you broke up with Zoe?” Paige’s expression morphs from anger to confusion before finally settling on realisation.

“I never wanted you to be a side piece. You think I don’t know you deserve better than that?” Azzi rubs her temple, as she tries to keep herself steady on her feet, “I know seeing that text hurt you but it’s not like you didn’t know I had a girlfriend. But- but if you’d just waited for me to wake up, god if you’d just talked to me once instead of jumping to conclusions then-”

“Then what?” Paige breathes out and Azzi doesn’t miss the little spurt of hope that’s taken birth on the older girl's face.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Azzi shakes her head, “that’s also past tense now.”

The thing with Paige is that anger is her protective mechanism. When she gets a little close to losing control of her emotions, or feeling too much, it’s what she falls back on so it’s not surprising that her tone is harsh when she speaks again.

“How the fuck was I supposed to guess you were gonna break up with your girlfriend Az c’mon,” Paige takes a step towards her, “I’m not a fucking mind reader.”

“I never asked you to read my mind. I just- all I’ve ever wanted- is for you to just have a little faith in me- in us,” Azzi’s voice breaks on the last word.

“That’s not fair. I was really fucking hurt Azzi-” Paige begins, her voice pleading.

“And then you tried to hurt me back on purpose,” Azzi spits out as the façade of neutrality completely slips off, “you knew it was me calling and you had that girl pick up any way knowing exactly how it would make me feel.”

“Azzi,” baby blue eyes sparkle with tears and Azzi has to force herself to look away, because no matter how much she’s convinced that this is what needs to happen, seeing Paige break, will drown Azzi and she’s barely floating as it is.

“I don’t enjoy hurting you Paige,” Azzi says softly, “and I don’t think you enjoy hurting me but for the last couple of years, I feel like that’s all we’ve been doing and I- I can’t do it anymore.”

It’s not something she’d ever admitted out loud, or even to herself, but once upon a time Azzi used to think her and Paige would have one of those stories, one of those soft, sappy fairytale-esque stories that had no chance of an ending that wasn’t happily ever after. And she hopes that maybe in another universe, maybe they did have that. Maybe in a universe where she chose UConn and things never went wrong in the first place. Maybe in that universe, they’re happy. But in this universe, they seem to be destined for misery. And Azzi thinks the saddest tragedy of it all, is that it feels like she’s ending a story that never even really got the chance to start.

“So that’s it then, you’re walking away- you’re just- you’re fucking giving up?” Paige says bitterly, crossing her arms protectively over her chest and Azzi feels a flicker of annoyance light up against her ribcage.

“Isn’t that what you did?” she accuses, “Is that not what you do? You walk away every. single. time. because you can’t deal with things getting just a little too fucking hard. And what? I’m just supposed to wait until you come back? Or chase after you like a pathetic little puppy?”

Paige flinches at the hardness in Azzi’s tone, mouth opening and closing but nothing escaping.

“I’m so fucking tired of always being the one calling, the one showing up, the one trying. I’m so fucking tired of fighting for us when it feels like you’re fighting against me,” Azzi pauses,trying to blink away the tears she’d tried so hard to keep locked behind her eyelids, “if you wanna call that me giving up then okay, but I don’t think you realize just how fucking hard I want to hold on.”

Azzi’s not sure if it’s the way her voice cracks, or the absolute misery behind every word she says, but Paige's hard and cold expression is gone so fast it gives her whiplash. And then her Paige, the girl with the warm eyes and soft heart is back, looking at Azzi in a way that makes her want to believe in them all over again. Arms outstretched, Paige takes a step forwards and there’s nothing more Azzi wants then melt into them. It takes everything in her to step away instead. For a moment there’s nothing but them staring at each other in silence, a moment where Azzi tries to memorise everything about Paige just in case this is the last time. And then-

“What if,” Paige begins softly, “what if I entered the draft?”

Azzi looks at her in confusion, “what does that have to do with anything?”

“The Sparks have the second pick, it’s where I’m projected to go,” Paige bites at her lips, peering at Azzi through her eyelashes.

The Sparks. The Los Angeles Sparks.

“Is that what you want?” Azzi asks quietly, trying to prevent her brain from already coming up with dreams of stupid picnic dates at the park during sunset.

Paige hesitates. And it’s enough for those dreams to crumble, because Azzi knows Paige just a little too well, knows exactly what that little bit of hesitation means.

“I haven’t decided yet but if- if there was a reason that I should-”

“There isn’t,” Azzi says firmly, “it’s not what you want.”

“I don’t even fucking know what I want,” Paige argues and that doesn’t make it any better.

“Then figure it out,” Azzi yells, frustratedly rubbing her hands over her face, “I won’t deal with you fucking resenting me and running away again in a couple of years- hell in a couple of months- because you regret your fucking decision.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“Please just stop. It's done. I’ve made up my mind” Azzi begs, exhaustion flooding into her body, “just- just let this go please.”

Paige meets her eyes with a stubborn fire, “I don’t fucking want to.”

“Well tough luck because I do.”

“Azzi,” Paige pleads desperately, trying to block Azzi as she beelines for the door, but the younger girl is quick to push past her.

“Goodbye Paige.”

***

December 2024

azzi please just let me in

ur parent are saying u dont wanna see me

and i get it

but i can fix this i swear

i know u know im here

please fucking let me in

i fucked up

i know

im so fucking sorry

but dude we can fix this

just

can u just fucking let me in

i really wanna see u

i really wanna talk

can we just fucking talk

please

merry christmas az

u know what fuck u actually

didnt mean that sorry

i was just mad

u make me really fucking mad

christmas breaks almost over

i have to go back soon and ik u do too

we should talk before that

ur so fucking stubborn

but so am i

im not giving up

i won’t

January 2024

i miss you

ur really fucking annoying

not texting me back

but its fine

i’ll just fucking spam

i had an ok day today

practice was kinda ass

not me tho

i was great

as always

bet i made more threes than you did

bro im watching ur game

and

what the fuck kinda airball did u just throw up

get in the gym az jfc

oh that was a good pullup

not better than mine

but decent

been a fucking month azzi

just fucking call me back

or text me idk

i miss u

sooooooooooo

hows ur day

good? good.

hows mine?

oh kinda shit

lets see

we lost in front of all these uconn legends

to their fucking rival

everyones saying uconn fucking sucks

some people are saying i suck

they might not be completely wrong

now would be a good time to reply az

like maybe make me feel better

fuck u actually

what the fuck am i doing

idk if u even read these

February 2024

idk maybe i should stop

like maybe only fucking psychos do this

but idk bro

i feel like ur gonna text me back eventually

well sc was a shit show

i mean we knew it but holy shit

i really wanna talk to you about it

it’d mainly just be me fucking yelling

and u giggling

fuck i miss ur laugh

i miss you

idk if u just ignore these

so idk if ur gonna even see this

but

i wanted to tell you first

before u saw it from somewhere else

im staying at uconn

u were right

i didnt want to leave yet

i want my 4 years

but

just dont think it means i didnt mean what i said

that i dont wanna be in la with u

i do

its not about that

i just need to do whats best for me

and thats staying here

fuck

i get what u meant now

u didnt pick ucla over me

fuck fuck fuck

im sorry az

is this how u felt

when i didn’t text u back

because it’s actually fucking hell

i miss you so fucking much dude

i’m so sorry

i’m really fucking sorry azzi

for all of it

please just call me back

March 2024

last pac-12 tournament mvp!!

dude i’m so proud of you

we also won

idk if u heard

it wasnt easy either

everything just always fucking goes wrong

fucking pisses me off

but oh well

u know i dont even like texting

idk how many messages ive sent u

its gotta be hundreds atp

insane shit on my part

tf is wrong with me

did u see the bracket

see u in the final 4 azzi

April 2024

i fucking told u

i told you id see u in the final four

fucking meant it

fuck

gonna kick yalls ass

revenge szn

we’re built different in march

cleveland here we fucking go

but also

cant avoid me anymore

i cant fucking wait to see you az

***

UConn 87 UCLA 84

There’s six seconds left to go and UCLA has control of the ball. The game today had been completely different from the on down in the Cayman Islands. That one had featured a UCLA team that had dominated from start to finish versus a UConn team still reeling from multiple injuries. This time around, UCLA seemed to have lost some of their shine and UConn had been on a tear. She would never give Paige the satisfaction of knowing it but her stupid goading, her incessant smirking because UConn seemed poised to win handedly, had gotten in Azzi’s head for most of the game. The fourth quarter had seen UConn enter with a 11 point lead that had held study until the last two and a half minutes when something had finally clicked for Azzi.

“Told you, you should have fucking come to UConn,” Paige had sneered while casually dribbling the ball and that had been enough to break Azzi out of whatever funk she’d been in. All of her anger and frustration at Paige seemed to culminate into that one moment as she’d swiped the ball straight from Paige’s hands, narrowly avoiding a foul. An easy steal-and-score layup was followed by two signature three pointers, created by her team’s defence, and suddenly the lead had been cut down to three. On the other side, Muhl had been called for an offensive foul and immediately Coach Close had called for a timeout to advance the ball.

When both teams get back on the court, Azzi, with her competitive streak in full control of her emotions, relishes in the way Paige’s face is contorted up in frustration. But it isn’t just this game that has Azzi irritated. Paige had been relentless since both teams had landed in Cleveland in trying to corner Azzi. She’d known it was gonna happen since she’d read the text but still Azzi had hoped that maybe the blonde would just let it go, would understand just how much Azzi didn’t want to have to deal with this. Because seeing Paige hurts. All the missing and yearning of the past few months seemed to have blended into this ball of tight hot pain that had burst the minute Paige had smiled at Azzi. She knows Paige means well, and it’s taking everything in her to ignore the part of her that’s secretly enamoured by how hard the point guard is trying finally, but Azzi just can’t do it again. She can’t let Paige in again and then spend every other second scared that Paige will run away again.

The whistle blows and Charisma gets ready to inbound the ball. The play call had been to just get it to Azzi but it’s clearly one that UConn had anticipated, because she finds herself swarmed with Paige and Muhl both trying to make sure she doesn’t get the ball. Instead, it’s Kiki who gets the ball and the countdown starts, as Azzi fights to get herself free, running off of screens, to get herself open on the three point line. It takes too much time and they don’t have any more timeouts left. Kiki throws it inside to Lauren who misses the layup but gets her own rebound and somehow the ball finally finds its way into Azzi’s hands. And with barely a second left to go, and Paige’s hand firmly in her face, Azzi throws up a prayer. The arena goes deathly silent as the ball hits the back and then circles every inch of the rim before spilling over the edge and falling straight into Edwards’ hands.

The crowd erupts in deafening cheers as the UConn bench rushes to the court, jubilantly hugging each other with Paige in the middle. Azzi blinks rapidly, refusing to be caught shedding a single tear on camera. Her teammates look distraught and Azzi feels disappointment curling into every crevice of her skin she’d almost had it. In the grand scheme of things she knows that, that shot would have only guaranteed overtime and not a win but still, it wouldn’t have meant a loss. And she knows this one isn’t completely on her either but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel the burden of it on her shoulders any way.

But despite it all, seeing Paige’s bright smile stretch all over her beaming face as she celebrates with her team, soothes the sting of the loss just a little bit. Azzi still remembers late night calls and Paige’s broken voice too well, her brain imprinted with the misery of a girl who had just wanted to play the sport she loved and couldn’t. And even if everything between them resembles the remnants of an earthquake, Azzi can’t help but be just a little bit happy for Paige.

The handshake line is better this time around with no one being unnecessarily hostile. One team is too happy to care and when Muhl briefly hugs her, Azzi can’t help but be a little shocked by the affection. Her team is too despondent to be mad, and Angela briefly nods at Paige when shaking her hand, and gets a reassuring grin in return. Azzi has to force herself not to run away, if only for decorum’s sake, once she and Paige finally get to each other. Trying to keep herself steady, she reaches out her hand to counter Paige’s outstretched arms. The smile falls a little bit from Paige’s face as a more resigned expression takes its place.

“Good game Bueckers,” Azzi manages to muster out.

The last name stings but Paige does her best to not let it show, “good game Az.”

***

When there’s a knock on the door to her hotel room a little bit after 10pm, Azzi knows exactly who it is. The look that Charisma gives her as she goes to open it, suggests that she does too.

“Oh thank fucking god, I thought maybe y’all left already,” and there it is, Paige voice echoing through her room and from where she’s perched on the edge of bed, her feet dangling over the side, Azzi catches a brief glimpse of the UConn point guard.

“Had a little bit of a transportation issue. We’re not leaving til tomorrow morning,” Charisma explains, “what are you doing here Paige?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously at the doorway, peering over Charisma’s frame in the doorway to catch sight of Azzi, “can I talk to Azzi?”

“First you kick my ass in the final four, and now you wanna kick me out of my own room?” Charisma asks, voice light but there’s an edge of seriousness to it.

“I-uh-”

“Az,” Charisma turns to Azzi with a questioning look, and Azzi sighs at having all the attention on her, “you wanna talk to her?”

Say no. Say yes. Her head fights with itself. And for the last few months, Azzi’s done well with listening to the logical part of her brain, diligently sticking to letting go. But that had only been easy to do because Paige hadn’t actually been there. Now that she is, with bright hopeful eyes fixed on Azzi, well, this time the emotional side wins out. She nods her head in yes at Charisma and Paige seems to glow all over.

“You’re lucky it’s me and not Angela or Kiki or any of the other girls,” Charisma warns, “but I swear to god Bueckers if I come back and there’s a single tear-”

“Then you have my permission to fucking murder me,” Paige vows, her face a paragon of sincerity.

Charisma nods once, stepping aside to let Paige in. The Bruin’s point guard looks at Azzi once more for confirmation and then, satisfied by the small smile Azzi shoots at her, she leaves the room, letting the door shut behind her. And then it’s just Paige and Azzi and the myriad of unspoken thoughts that seem to always linger between them.

“Hi,” Paige says softly.

Azzi stares up at her with tired eyes, “shouldn’t you be celebrating or something?”

“Still one more game to go. Gotta lock in for that first.”

“Then go do that. What are you doing here?”

Paige flinches at the harsh tone and Azzi feels a wave of guilt come over her. She doesn’t mean to be so hostile but she’s scared that if she gives in just a little, all of her will go tumbling down.

“Sunday is the most important game of my life,” Paige says quietly.

“I know- I know it means a lot to you.”

“It does,” Paige nods, as she takes a step forward, hesitating for a second, before she drags a foot stool over, so she can sit right in front of Azzi, “will you stay for it?”

“That’s not-,” Azzi sucks in a deep breath, her senses muddle by having Paige so close to her again, “I thought I was clear about- about us.’

“You were but I thought I was clear with my texts,” Paige counters.

“Paige please.”

“I just-,” Paige pauses, leaning forward and staring intently at Azzi, “I don’t know how the national championship is gonna go. I don’t know if we’re gonna win or lose but I just- I know that no matter what happens, I want you there. Because if I’m gonna end up fucking crying, then I want it to be on your shoulder. And if I’m gonna end up celebrating, I want it to be in your arms. I just- I just want you there. With me. Always.”

Everything else floats away and for a moment, all Azzi knows is Paige, and the warmth that reverberates through her body at the earnestness in those words. If she could, she’d capture that feeling in a bottle and keep it forever. Because moments are fleeting. And when her brain catches up to her heart, and that voice in her head is back to echoing it won’t last, Azzi feels cold all over again.

“You don’t believe me,” disappointment echoes in Paige’s voice; she’s always been a little too perceptive of Azzi’s emotions, “you think I don’t mean it?”

“I think you mean it now. I don’t think you’ll mean it forever,” Azzi shrugs.

Paige is quiet, nerves on full display, as she cautiously reaches for Azzi’s hands with both of her own, an audible sigh of relief floating out of her lips when Azzi lets her.

“I know I fucked up,” she begins quietly, thumb caressing Azzi’s palms, each trace sending jolts of electricy through the younger girl’s body, “like really fucked up and I get why you think that. I get why- why you’re so scared to believe me. And I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

A teardrop rolls down Paige’s cheek, falling onto their intertwined hands, and Azzi feels herself flinch, her own eyes beginning to glisten.

“If I could go back in time, I’d change so many fucking things. I’d go back to the beginning- back to your room the night before you went to LA and- and I’d tell myself to shut the fuck up. I’d tell you that I supported you- that I understood that you weren’t choosing UCLA over me- and I’d- I’d tell you that it didn’t matter how many fucking miles away from me you were- we’d survive it. But I can’t- I can’t change the past. I can’t change that we fought. I can’t change that- that I was a fucking idiot for ignoring you for a year. I can’t change that I was a dumbass for leaving that morning.”

Tears are freely streaming from both of their eyes now as they grip each other’s hands tightly. There’s something cathartic about finally being able to cry, about finally being able to mourn the loss of what could have been together.And it feels a little bit like healing.

Paige looks up at Azzi through watery eyelashes as she continues to speak, her voice wrecked with emotion, “and I’m not gonna make promises about how I’ll never do shit to hurt you again because god knows I can be really fucking stupid.”

They let out simultaneous giggles at that and Azzi can feel something in herself unravelling.

“But what I can promise is that if you let me, every day- every fucking day that I live- I will try. To not hurt you. To make it up to you. To fix this. To fix us. And I can promise, that I will never ever fucking run away from you again. I know- I know it’s gonna be hard but I swear- I fucking swear- that I will stay right here and face it with you.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers helplessly. It’s everything she’s wanted to hear and it’s too much. The voices in her head are too loud again, screams of she’ll hurt you, she always does, let her go colliding with shouts of it’s Paige, it’s your Paige, hold on to her.

“You said- you said you were tired of fighting alone but you never- you never have to do that again because- because I’m here now. Fuck- Azzi I’m here. And I know- I know there’s so much we have to talk about and so much we still have to fucking deal with. But we can do that- we can- we can deal with anything. Because it’s us. Paige and Azzi. We can do anything. Together.”

Paige presses her forehead to Azzi’s, pulling their interlocked hands to her chest. They’re breathing in sync and Azzi can feel the thrum of Paige’s heart beat against her fingertips. Azzi’s eyes close of their own accord, as Paige’s lips brush over hers, her next words coming out in a breathless whisper.

“Believe in me- believe in us just one more time, please.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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jules-writes-stories · 17 days ago

Text

I had a couple of asks about WIP Wednesday (including a playlist!) so wanted to post a blurb for Chapter 6. I threw a playlist together really quick. They're songs I listened to while outlining/ made me think of the story, setting, and characters. All vibes. No order or hidden message. This is not my strength, lol. 🖤

The Night Court Lounge | Tribeca, NYC | Ch 1-5 on AO3

Azriel x Eris

Chapter 6 (Excerpt)

Tribeca, NYC

“Lemme guess. Black hoodie?” Akon’s eyes peered back in the rear view mirror.

Eris saw Azriel’s figure the same time his driver did. Of course he would do something reckless like walk up the island of Manhattan in the early hours of the morning. The pretty man clearly enjoyed stressing him out.

Eris took a breath. No good would come of acting distraught.

They followed him down a cobbled street to an overpass that crossed over a highway below. Steam rose over manholes. Squares of light from empty, lit office buildings reflected off rain slicked streets.

The car slowed to drive alongside Azriel. He wore Airpods and his hands were stuffed in his pockets. Eris rolled down his window.

After several seconds, Az turned to look directly at Eris and his eyes grew wide. Something like embarrassment and rejection passed across the man’s face, before it froze into a cool mask of neutrality. He pulled his dark hood up and picked up his pace.

His beloved bat was growing fangs…

Akon’s eyes flicked up to meet Eris’s and laughter shined in those dark pools. He needed no directions as he began to drive alongside the petulant pedestrian.

“Azriel. Will you at least tell me why you stormed off?” Eris called out of the slowly moving vehicle, his voice laced with humor.

Hazel eyes were brazen as they narrowed at Eris. There was the magnificent creature in his submissive. Jealousy made a beast of Azriel. And Eris had the strange impulse to pet the beast, to soothe it.

Azriel pulled out his earbuds and faced the car. They were stopped on the overpass now. Traffic flashed below like a river of light through the chain link fence behind him.

Eris could tell the younger man was struggling, was on a precipice. And he considered… In business, it was customary to offer a concession. Eris would give something, and then, perhaps, Azriel, the silly man, would get in the car.

“Azriel. I can’t fix it, if I don’t know what’s wrong.” Eris tried to keep his voice reasonable. This was him being reasonable. He was being… Yes, reasonable was the word.

The beautiful man stalked towards the car. “Why did you even follow me? What do you want?”

Eris felt that prickle of panic, control slipping once more.

Thesan’s words clanged through him. Be vulnerable with him, or end it… All or nothing.

And the thought of ending it, of not seeing those hazel eyes or that shy smile, the way Azriel’s dark lashes fluttered against his cheekbones when Eris praised him. No. He did not like that idea at all. And panic grew at the thought.

In fact, if Eris was being completely honest, he wanted to learn more. Who were his favorite artists? When was his birthday? Why did everyone at the Night Court feel the need to protect him and what happened to his hands?

Be reasonable. The last time Eris fell, it had been for Thesan. And it had cost him a year of his life.

What did he want? Right now?

“I want you to get in my car. And talk to me.” Eris kept his voice level, even as the authority he was accustomed to using slipped through his timbre. He pushed it aside. This was not the bedroom or the boardroom-- this was a highway overpass, and he wanted this man.

Azriel stepped closer, backpack slung over a shoulder. “You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you, Eris?” His tone was icey, but there was something soft and needful in his gaze.

Eris stepped out of his car and leaned against the door. He crossed his arms over his chest. They stared at each other beneath the fuzzy glow of the street lamps. The hum of traffic rattled the overpass.

“What if I want you?”

Please let me know if you ever want on/off the tag | @the-darkestminds @fieldofdaisiies @mistandmemories @secret-third-thing @chunkypossum @talibunny30 @amalhe-kofee @shadowsandlint @queercontrarian @molcat07 @c-starstuff-man0 @lovely-vanserra-sunshine @hieragalbatorixdottir @brunetterebel010 @pippsmcgee @theartofmischief @born-to-riot

#azriel x eris #azris fanfiction #eris vanserra #azriel shadowsinger #azris #acotar fanfiction #Spotify

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2soulscollide · 2 years ago

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10 underrated tips to become a better writer

hello hello, it's me again!

today i want to share some tips to improve your writing!

1. write in a different style

sometimes it's important to step out of our comfort zone, especially when it comes to writing. the next time you sit down to write for a bit, try to do something different from usual... try poetry if you always write prose; try fantasy if your thing is mystery; try adventure if you only write romance. it's up to you, just do it! who knows if you discover a new passion while trying this exercise...

2. write from a different point of view

i know it can be tempting to always write from a certain point of view, or to always use the same narrator voice, but (like on the first topic) sometimes change is needed to improve. you'll see things from another perspective, and maybe you can have a brilliant idea!

3. write with music

this one is one of my favorites! i love music, my spotify is full of playlists, one for each mood. try to create different playlists for your stories, and pick songs that motivate you, or that make you feel like you're one of the characters of your novel. this will not only give you a boost to write but also make you feel inspired.

4. set a timer

i always do this! it's a life changer. i started doing the pomodoro method to study and realized how effective it is. it's the same when it comes to writing: set about thirty minutes to write (it's up to you, depending on for how long you can be productive) and ten to fifteen minutes to relax. you'll see how much more work you can do with this method!

5. use prompts

you know how much i love prompts! i think they're so useful and help us so much to become more creative. they are a great way to step out of our comfort zone and develop someone else's idea in a span of a few minutes or hours.

oh, and if you're feeling adventurous, try this month's writing challenge!

6. write in a different place

guys! change your writing environment sometimes, especially when you're feeling overwhelmed or drained. i know it can be tempting to always sit on your sofa / bed / favorite chair, but sometimes we get so accustomed to the same place, that our creativity slows down, as well as our motivation. try to go outside to a park or a café, it can be so fun and you'll feel like the main character. or maybe, if you don't want to be in public, try another room in your house! just make sure you feel comfortable and don't have distractions around you.

7. change your writing support

do you always write on your computer? try to disconnect for a while, grab a pen and a paper, and let your imagination flow. it can be so freeing to write by hand sometimes, especially when you're plotting a novel! how cool it is to draw a scheme to connect all the characters and locations, and to doodle...!

8. find a writing buddy

personally, i don't have one, but i know it can be such a fun way to keep you motivated and to keep yourself (and the other person) accountable. it's great to have someone to share your ideas with, to give and receive feedback, and to lift you up to write when you don't like doing so.

9. write yourself a letter

trust me, it's amazing. it can be to your present self, past, or future, it's up to you. tell yourself what your writing goals are, what you are writing, how you see yourself in the future, what you're satisfied with your writing style, etc. just let it flow and re-read it whenever you feel unmotivated.

10. write with a sense of humor

i know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but it can be so fun sometimes. try something less serious when you don't feel like writing. try to come up with a joke mid-dialogue, write a fun scene or re-write a serious scene in a less serious way. this exercise can be great to see things from another perspective, to try a different style, or to lift up your mood.

i hope this was useful! have a nice day!

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danieyells · 5 months ago

Note

After Hotaburi's chapter i was very curious about Zenji voicelines! Can i ask for them, please?

@yuri-is-online YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT OVERWHELMING ME although I appreciate the concern!! If I get overwhelmed or need a break I just put it aside until I'm ready or have the time and energy and attention span or ideas if necessary haha so no need to worry there 'u' (Also. . .good luck with those fics lolol)

ZENJI IS OUR LAST BOI. Until we get Ed and Lyca anyway. Which will honestly probably be in like. A week or two. Possibly less. I had my suspicions when I first read his that he was a ghost lol knowing he is. . .it gives them a little different feeling I guess haha.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Why, hello there, my dear. Suppose we kick off another swanky day here?"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Come now, read those messages out, won't you? They're fan letters for me, aren't they? ...They're not?"

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"You want to know the meaning of my words? I see— I'll have to give you a lecture on romanticism."

"What's this? Well, it's a biwa, of course. It's a biwa just as you are yourself."

what does that mean tho. . .i mean i get what it means but also it feels like it must mean something. . . .

"Girls, be ambitious... Dream big, my dear."

proud women enjoyer zenji kotodama

"A man who's everywhere but can be found nowhere... That's what it means to be an inspired man of the quill."

i think that's just what it means to be a ghost bby. . . . . . . . . . .

"Heh. There's no doubt about it. Zenji Kotodama is once again the most styling man on campus. These glad rags are the cat's pajamas."

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Come now, let's depart in search of something sensational."

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Oh, have you come to see me? This is troubling. I'm afraid I'm out of autographs."

where have you been distributing them. . .?

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"What am I doing here? ...I'm people-watching."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ordinarily I ask for write-ins for my advice salon on the World Wide Web...but tonight, I'm taking it out into the field."

i wonder if he's waiting to encounter people who'll be able to see and hear him or if he's just like. . .genuinely ignoring/forgetting/disregarding that he isn't seen or heard. . .or maybe he was ignored a lot in his lifetime too so he doesn't question that people don't respond. . . .

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"The moon is beautiful... I always look forward to passing the hours in conversation with you and Towa on nights like these."

i thought you didn't hang around jabberwock after dark because the dark was dangerous tho. . .maybe if the moon is big and bright he doesn't mind because it's not as dark lolol

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"My folktale videos? I filmed them at Haku's behest, but I can't imagine these old things will capture my fans' hearts..."

based on that the Urashima Taro video has his voice in it but his character story recording doesn't have him or his voice in it(and Haku deliberately tries to make the background interesting because he knows it'll only be the background and biwa sounds,) I think his voice can be recorded but if he's visibly in the recording it won't be captured? That or Haku has recording equipment that can capture ghost voices, but not images???

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"It truly is the age of YouTube. Can you fathom the romance of my artistry spreading to all four corners of the globe?"

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Every tool has its own knack you've got to acquire to use it properly. Behold— my mastery with a fishing pole!"

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"This doll here is special. The moment I met him I felt a destiny such that I knew we couldn't be strangers."

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Oh, I didn't mean to give you a fright... I ought to have expected this. A sudden brush with an inspired man of the quill would take anyone's breath away."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Have you got any siblings, my dear? Why no, I don't mean anything by it. Just a little morning conversation."

i can imagine him looking fondly at his doll as he says he doesn't mean anything by it. His sibling isn't one of the most important things in the world to him or anything. He's just making conversation. btw in Japanese he says "morning talk" which sounds an awful lot like "pillow talk" to me and idk how many people would be comfortable discussing their siblings after the deed--

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Are you going to Mortkranken, my dear? ...I see. No, I don't mean anything by it. Are you hurt? I hope you'll take care."

so while it makes sense for Zenji to ask this as he is noted in his profile to be a worrywart, not to mention he died on campus, but also. . .y'know, his brother lives there.

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you. Apparently my footsteps give the general students the heebie-jeebies..."

In Japanese it does clarify that he moves without the sound of footsteps at all because the general students freak out hearing his footsteps since they can't see him

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"A swanky morning calls for a swanky breakfast, and some swanky radio calisthenics."

apparently radio calisthenics are still pretty popular in japan. in any case man are you sure you died like a year ago you sound so old

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Why, Subaru hasn't risen yet. Go ahead and wake him, won't you, my dear? I'll accompany your efforts from here with my biwa."

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"A burst of inspiration has taken hold of me... No. The ghost of artistry has possessed my soul!"

okay well be careful with ghosts taking over your soul you don't have a ton left if you lose that--

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"To be a Darkwick student is to greet danger as an old friend... But I hope that Haku and Subaru have a long life ahead of them."

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Zenji Kotodama is a wonderful name, don't you think? A sensational name befitting of my sensational sensibilities."

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Trouble sleeping? Then I'll read you a story. How about Urashima Taro?"

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"I was standing by your pillow last night? Horsefeathers, I'd never. I was there the night before last."

BABY I DON'T THINK THAT'S BETTER. YOU ARE STILL WATCHING THEM SLEEP. WHAT ELSE DO YOU WATCH THEM DO.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Go ahead and eat. No, don't give me another thought—I'm on a diet, you see. Watching you is enough food for my soul."

you see why i suspected initially that he didn't know he was dead? can you eat at all buddy?? i don't think it's a diet if you've lost the ability to consume food. . . .

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Haku's busy today—film me in his stead, won't you?"

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I've got a little story about a hapless fool of a man... I'm sure it's hardly worth listening to. I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to share it with you?"

the true stories seem like the ones he wants to avoid. . .'a hapless fool of a man's story that isn't worth listening to but i'd still like to share' sounds an awful lot like it must be about him and his life. . . . In Japanese he says 「救いようのない、馬鹿な男の物語さ」 "it's the story of an irredeemable/hopeless, stupid man.". . .who did you hurt, Zenji?

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"To be able to look into your eyes and bid you good night... I'm the luckiest fella for miles around."

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Maybe we did meet too late. But it's all right. I promise I'll find you in the next life."

but. . .but we have this life. . .although this is one of the few acknowledgements he really gives of his own ghostly nature. He wants to be able to live with you. To be tangibly there for you, to touch you and support you, to be able to show you off to others. . .but he can't be recognized. He can't be seen or heard but by a select few, it's only thanks to Haku that he can be seen or heard by you. It's too late for something 'real' now. So he can plan for the future. For the next life. He'll find you when you're both alive and then you can do everything you'd want to do with a real physical boyfriend. He promises.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"In spring, the dawn... Red tinges the slowly paling mountain rim... Ah... These mountain fellas must've been goofy for some doll..."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"There is hope buried under the cherry trees... It means that spring is the season of chance encounters."

isn't the like. rumor that cherry blossoms are pink because they dye their petals with the blood of corpses buried beneath them or something? i swear i read that somewhere. apparently it comes from a poem. is hope a body buried under a sakura tree. is that where they buried you, Zenji?

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The cherry blossoms of Hotarubi are ephemeral—they bloom only to be quickly washed away by the rain. But I am rather fond of that way of life."

Zenji simultaneously lives in Acceptance and Denial stages of grief it seems lol

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The beauty of the cherry blossoms under the night sky inspired me to pick up my pen... Oh, it has gotten easier to lift."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Have you seen him!? Who? Why, my doll, of course! This is very troubling. I've got to find him before the boogeymen stir!"

. . .somehow this reminds me of the Jiro dialogue where he's like "if Yuri asks where I am, tell him i went to bed, i'm going out" lol if the doll reminds him of Jiro, it seems to make sense that now and then it wanders off on its own. I wonder where it's going though?

(between 11am and 4pm)

"My ideal summer vacation? I wish to lay down my burdens in the springs of Yugawara and pursue my wordsmithery in peace, as so many greats have done before me."

Yugawara is a hot spring town in Japan! Apparently since the Meiji era people would go there for inspiration and such thanks to the atmosphere

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"This master wordsmith studied by the light of fireflies... I see. Haku! Turn out the lights!"

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I heard a frightful rumor... Apparently the ghost of a dead student has been spotted around Hotarubi..."

THAT'S YOU. YOU ARE THE SCARY GHOST OF A DEAD STUDENT. PEOPLE CAN SEE YOU MORE BECAUSE IT'S SUMMER.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Fall is the perfect season for a new book, and I have the perfect one for you... From inspired man of the quill Zenji Kotodama, the fruit of his sweat and blood... "Body.""

(between 11am and 4pm)

"A song for you in the season of the arts... From inspired lute priest Zenji Kotod— Wait, where are you going!?"

why is this the one time 'biwa' is translated to 'lute' lol. . .although 'lute priest' does sound way better than 'biwa priest'

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Gauging the literary significance of this video by something as insignificant as views... Horsefeathers, isn't it?"

yeah!!! don't judge your worth by views or follows, zenji!!!

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I've decided to make you the heroine of my next work... A beautiful princess who bites into a poisoned apple and falls into a deep slumber... and seven of you!"

a fascinating retelling of Snow White. . .Snow White And The Seven Snow Whites. . . .

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"Good morning, fellas! Time for my biwa recital to color the chill of this frigid sunrise! I call it "Six O'Clock in the Morning.""

zenji nO PEOPLE ARE TRYNA SLEEP

(between 11am and 4pm)

"There's a rumor going around that you can hear a biwa playing in the music room when no one's there... I go all the time though, and I've never heard it..."

again. . .that's because it's you. . . .

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The setting sun... The sky dyed purple... Your beautiful profile, obscured... (gasp) I've been struck by inspiration!! My dear, I have to leave you here!"

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Are you cold? Then let me warm you up... My dear, why are you scooting away? I'll only make you colder...?"

it really seems like he forgets he's a ghost pretty often lmao

His birthday: (June 19th)

"Is this...a birthday present...? (hic) (sob) I'm the luckiest fella around...!"

people don't give him gifts often huh. . .or he's just very emotional. both could be true.

Your birthday:

"I've planned the perfect day to celebrate the miracle of your birth... We'll start with an ode to you, accompanied by my biwa."

he planned you a whole outing or maybe a party! with all day musical accompaniment!! What a sweetheart!!

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year, my dear. I'll be making the first shrine visit with Haku—care to join us?"

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"My dear...is this for me? (hic) (sob) I'll treasure it always...!"

well given he probably can't eat it. . .fair reaction

White Day: (March 14th)

"I'm sorry... I did try to explain that a biwa recital would make a better gift, but Haku insisted I present you with confections instead..."

thanks haku you a real one lmao although music wouldn't be bad just. . . .

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"No, I would never lie to you. An inspired man spins fiction with his quill, not his mouth, after all."

y'know, i love the honesty! you keep making stories and being open, zenji!

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Why, you gave me quite a fright in that getup! What a marvelously queer celebration this is! So this is the legacy of westernization..."

no the marvelously queer celebrations are in june. although halloween is also marvelously queer sometimes--

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Merry Christmas! I've completed a new fairy tale. May my wishes reach the hearts of children everywhere..."

not a gift for you, but for the children! can a ghoul ghost and a human have--

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"...And they lived happily ever after. How did you like my new story? I'd love to hear your— What? You weren't listening!?"

(13 affinity and above)

"Can you see me? Phew... You've been so quiet, you had me worried, my dear."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Ah, I'm so relieved you're all right, my dear. I wondered if something had happened on a mission... I'm glad my fears had no teeth."

THAT'S ALL OF EM. He's really. . .he is himself the whole way through huh lol. At the same time when he does acknowledge his ghostliness(and oftentimes he does the exact opposite, simply lacking in self-awareness) he seems a little lonely and regretful. . .I wonder if he was always such a worrywart or if he started worrying more after he died, realizing first hand just how dangerous things could be. I'm surprised how few acknowledgements his doll gets, although I don't think he carries it on the home screen?

I wonder how different his personality was when he was alive. Probably not very different tbh.

ANYWAY IT IS HALF PAST MIDNIGHT FOR ME. BEDTIME.

#zenji kotodama #danie yells at tokyo debunker #danie yells answers #danie yells with anons #yuri is online #datamining cw #now i just have to go back through and fill out the ones i left out for everyone. . . .#a concern for a danie from another day lol #tokyo debunker

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hold-him-down · 5 months ago

Text

Hold Him Down (pt. 1)

TW: Med Whump, Gratuitous Med Whump, Medical Restraints, Chemical Restraints, Noncon Touch, Referenced Noncon, Parker Destin, Institutionalized Slavery, Noncon Drugging, Conditioning, Referenced Food/Water Restriction, Referenced/Described STI testing, Referenced/Described Shock Collar, Whumper POV, literally over 4k words wtf, get leo a pet fish and warm hug when.

Notes: This is one of those things that I'm, as usual, not sure needs to or should exist, but I spent so much time writing it that I couldn't just NOT post it, sooo here it is. Parts 4-6 coming eventually. Takes place in the 12-ish hour span after Leo is prematurely returned from our best guy, Parker Destin. This may be one that I revisit and try to refine down the line.

✥ ✥ ✥

From behind a two-way mirror, Handler Otto Gray and an unfamiliar intake handler stand, arms crossed over their chests. They watch Leo quietly, relieved that, at least for now, the dust has settled.

His eyes finally closed, a few hours earlier, following a massive fight that ended in a sizable dose of Lorazepam. Even drugged, it took what felt like ages for him to settle down, and even longer for his body to finally go limp. Hours later, the salty tear-streaks are still visible on his cheeks.

The doctor asked them to wait on cleaning him up; in spite of the second handler’s objections, in spite of the apparently innate desire to put this unconscious boy in his place, the handler turned on his heels and left in a huff. Otto hesitated, sparing a quick glance at Leo. He wondered, briefly, how he had managed to fail so spectacularly, before dismissing the thought all together. Against his better judgment, he squeezed Leo’s hand briefly, then he checked to make sure the restraints were appropriately secured and exited. Today was sure to be a long day, sure to be even longer if they could not get a handle on whatever panic-induced psychosis Leo was clearly grappling with.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, shift change happened. The handler who had spent the evening scowling at Leo’s lifeless form clocked out, muttering a, “Good luck,” to his replacement. Otto stayed, though, with a quick glance at handler Nick Ford, according to his name tag, and a muttered greeting. Hopefully, he thinks, this one is better suited for this type of work than the last. The doctor comes up behind them, and the three stand in silence for a moment.

“He’s asleep?” the doctor asks, which is a question that could ordinarily be answered with a quick glance through a chart, but Leo has a notoriously unpredictable response to sedatives and that, if nothing else, has been noted numerously in his file.

Otto nods, his jaw locked. “I think so.”

Leo’s wrists are red, raw where each strap hugs them, but for the last few hours, they have been still. Mostly.

“For how long?” the doctor asks, thumbing through the notes from the night before. A colorful account of the events that led to this moment, which, although maybe not immediately helpful, might lend insight into the inner workings of Leo Evans.

“A couple hours,” Handler Ford supplies, and Otto is struck suddenly with a potent distaste for how this night has played out.

It’s not out of the ordinary, exactly, for a worker to require this level of support after a contract. He hoped, though, maybe naively, that Leo was more resilient than this.

He’s been drugged out of his mind, and as hard as he fought it, the drugs eventually dragged him under. To Otto’s understanding, it was only after several hours of trying to calm him down using other methods that he was eventually medicated, and, to Otto’s understanding, the doctor intends now to keep him drugged until he’s under control. He idly wonders if there’s a chance at modifying those plans. Leo is tough, sometimes damn near impossible to work with, but they had found a kind of balance when Otto was his handler. And he thinks, now, he can perhaps spare everyone some heartache if he can have a go at his former trainee.

Otto peers in closer to the window as Leo gasps, his wrists pulling once, lightly, at the straps.

“Alright,” the doctor says, at the same time that Leo’s eyes crack open. As Handler Ford reviews the notes with the Doctor, Otto studies Leo. He hadn’t been an easy trainee. He had been downright defiant at times, resistant to every standard training tool the DLS employed. Otto had been called in in his second month, after his primary handler was fired for, more or less, losing his patience with Leo one time too many, with Leo landing in the ICU. Even after that, success came in short, nearly unpredictable bursts.

When Leo had finally been cleared to take his first contract, that would usually have been the end of Otto’s time with him. But, at least in some of his most challenging successes, he liked to keep an eye on them, if not just to see how they did. He would tell you he did this to improve his own methods, and to help him understand the longer term implications of his work. That wouldn't be the whole truth, though.

Leo was one of the select few that Otto found himself keeping an eye on. He had gotten through his first contract easily, and Otto recalled the feeling of immense relief as he read through Ms. Smith’s post-contract interview. Leo had been put in a short term holding site and almost immediately secured his second contract. That one wasn’t set to terminate for three months still, so when Otto got the notification that Leo’s file was being updated last night, he called in some favors with the intake department.

He stands here now, mostly frustrated, a little bit confused, and perhaps, maybe slightly sympathetic. Simmering beneath all that is anger, misplaced but a constant undertone that, he worries, may drive some of his decisions today. He buries it as deeply as he can. It serves neither him nor Leo.

Leo blinks hard toward the ceiling, but seems to clock his circumstances quickly. His head turns toward the mirror and for a moment, Otto thinks Leo can see him, right through him, right into the place Leo used to occasionally access and attempt to exploit.

Otto stares at his eyes, red, heavy, and unfocused, and wills Leo to remain calm. Leo swallows, and pulls again against the restraints.

Stop, Otto silently commands. But he doesn’t. Of course, he wouldn’t.

“What are the odds he’ll take it on his own?” Otto hears from next to him.

“What?” Otto responds, shifting his focus.

“The meds?” Handler Ford says as he holds up a small cup of pills in one hand, a syringe filled with an off-white liquid in the other.

“Oh,” Otto responds. The odds, he thinks, are nonexistent. The good news is this isn’t explicitly his problem anymore.

“Any pointers?” Handler Ford asks then. At Otto’s look, he says, “You worked with him, right?”

Otto nods, but doesn’t offer any pointer. Handler Ford stares at him intently, so, out of some misplaced desire to prove that he is not, in fact, completely incompetent with his trainees, he says, “A long time ago. I did his initial training after his first handler got canned.”

“What for?” Ford asks. He’s stalling, Otto thinks.

“Assault,” Otto supplies. He inclines his head toward the room, and turns away from Handler Ford, re-orienting himself toward the window.

“Wish me luck?”

“Good Luck,” Otto says, not unkindly, as the handler disappears behind the door. Moments later, he is in Leo’s room.

Leo’s demeanor immediately shifts, from alarmed and fighting to gain function to panicked, but he stills, he swallows, he forces his eyes on the handler, and takes a breath. Good boy, Otto thinks.

He’s whispering something, but Otto can’t make out the words. He thinks he’s heard Parker’s name, and Handler Ford shakes his head.

Leo nods, then, and takes one of those deep, shuddering breaths that usually mean he’s on the edge of some big feelings. Otto, once more, leans closer to the window.

Handler Ford begins listing out the things he needs Leo to do this morning, and Leo’s brow creases as he takes it in, nodding after each item, but seemingly oblivious to the actual requests.

Inside the observation room, the doctor joins Otto.

“Do you know what happened?” Otto asks the doctor. Otto, immediately realizing he could be asking any number of things, clarifies, “That led to this. He didn’t have an issue after his first contract.”

“Sometimes they get freaked out after spending some time with a particularly cozy buyer,” he replies.

Otto nods.

In the room, Handler Ford’s hand is on Leo’s neck, pressing under the collar. Leo stays still, but Otto can see the fear in his eyes, behind layers and layers of grief. It’s odd, seeing him like this.

“You didn’t last too long, did you?” Handler Ford is saying, dripping condescension, as Leo swallows, holding in a fresh wave of tears.

✥ ✥ ✥

“It’s nothing personal, Leo.” Parker’s driver waits for Leo just beyond the threshold. In his hand, Parker holds out a DLS-issued bag.

Leo nods.

Parker grabs his face between his hands and presses his lips to Leo’s forehead. “You have to understand I didn’t plan for this,” he’s saying, but Leo’s ears are ringing. “I would have waited to take on a worker if I had any inclination I would be called away.” His words are kind, Leo thinks, but there’s almost a note of condescension under them.

Leo feels a sort of emptiness spreading throughout him, a cold void that precedes what he could only describe as terror. For what’s next. For losing this thing, that he isn’t sure he should want, but he wants, so desperately. He clings to it.

“Parker, I– I can,” Leo starts, taking a step back. He can, what? fix this? do better? be better? “Please don’t do this…”

Parker’s thumbs glide across Leo’s cheeks.

“I thought they beat that out of you,” Parker says, his lips pulled into a half-smile. Leo falters, the words he has prepared are completely knocked out of him.

“I– I’m sorry,” is all he can now formulate. He can feel his circumstances changing as every second passes. He’s going to be sick. The feeling of bile rising wars against the knowledge that if he is sick at this moment, it will be unforgivable.

Parker’s hands drift down to Leo’s shoulders and he pulls him into a half-hug, pressing his forehead against Leo’s.

“Don’t worry about it,” Parker says. He wants to say more, Leo thinks.

Instead, Parker uses the grip he has on Leo’s shoulder to push him away and rakes his eyes slowly over Leo, from his head to his toes. He smiles and grabs the collar of Leo’s shirt, poking out from under a deep blue sweater. It’s Parker’s favorite.

He inclines his head briefly toward the door and Leo counts every breath he takes.

“They said not to send your books and clothes and things,” Parker explains as he pulls open the front door. “It’ll just go to waste. I can donate it, if you’d like?”

And Leo, in that moment, hesitates. Can he ask Parker to keep it, for when he gets back from his trip? Maybe, he thinks. Maybe Parker hasn’t considered that Leo could stay in the house and look after it, and he doesn’t need to send him away.

And then it occurs to Leo that maybe Parker is using this time to help figure out the gaps in his training, because they’ve been butting heads lately, and if that’s the case, he wants to tell Parker that he will take this time seriously, and will be better suited to be what Parker needs him to be when he returns.

Leo opens his mouth to say this, to say any of it, even just to tell Parker that he will try harder when he gets back from his trip.

But the panic wraps itself around Leo’s throat, and Leo says nothing.

✥ ✥ ✥

“Are you ready to behave?” The words distort around the edges and Leo blinks hard, willing himself to focus.

This handler, Leo thinks, is unfamiliar to him. There is a fuzziness to both his vision and his thoughts, compounded by blurry memories of the night before. The handler is standing just outside of his line of sight, offering terse reprimands each time he fails to respond. He is trying, though. He wants to tell them he’s trying, but his tongue feels too thick and his voice won’t work.

There’s an added danger that Leo tries not to acknowledge, even silently. They’ve put a training collar on him, but they haven’t gone so far as to shock the world into focus. Even if his limbs didn’t weigh a thousand pounds, he would not be able to lift them. Thick canvas straps wound tightly around each wrist and ankle keep him in place, and Leo blinks at the unexpected wave of terror: these people can and will hurt him with no regard for the fact that he is wholly unable to protect himself.

The drugs help him accept these facts, but do not help him to forget them.

Memories of the night before claw their way to the surface. Of the sound of his own screaming, of gloved hands pinning him down, of his clothing being pulled off of his body. Of Parker's favorite sweater, which he held tightly to his chest, as it was ripped from his arms. He flinches at the memory of himself, just [some?] hours earlier, as he begged them to let him keep it, as a needle digs its way deep into his thigh. The darkness was quick to swallow him up after that.

And then there are other memories, too, from later in the night. Distorted flashes of the handlers coming to visit him, of cold hands pulling off the thin blanket that had been draped over him. He wondered if the drugs might ease the pain. When they didn’t, he allowed himself a moment of relief in the hope that this might all just be written off as a drug-induced nightmare in the light of day.

And now, the drugs fading, and the light of day doing nothing to erase ache deep inside of him, he swallows, blinking slowly, and longs only for the reprieve that unconsciousness may bring. That maybe they will drug him again, before they touch him again. His stomach turns over, and he draws his focus to the lights on the ceiling.

“He’s lost some weight,” he hears the doctor say, but they aren’t speaking to him, so he closes his eyes and taps each finger on the pad beneath him, just to see if he can feel them all.

“His buyer kept him hungry,” the handler replies. He can, he thinks, feel them all. “My understanding is he kept him on a pretty strict eating plan.”

Leo recoils, hearing Parker’s voice in his head. The DLS has asked that you start out on a kind of strict meal plan for a little bit. He blinks back tears at the unwelcome memories. Of Parker, event after event, selecting everything he ate, everything he touched. Of the imperceptible nod Parker would give him when he reached for something at the dinner table. Or the terse shake of his head when he moved to something unacceptable.

Leo wants to tell these men that Parker didn’t keep him hungry. That he was just enacting the plan he had been given.

“I’ll need a copy of it,” the doctor responds, and Leo squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his mind blank.

“It’s in his file,” the handler says. Leo’s ears ring.

“Good.” The doctor presses his hands fingers into the back of Leo’s neck, the collar momentarily tightening as the fingers explore under it. “He’s dehydrated,” he says, and Leo can picture the handler typing his notes. “Are you going to tell me the buyer restricted his water intake too?”

From somewhere far away, the handler laughs, and Leo’s expression tightens, momentarily stunned by the mockery.

“It’s alright,” he thinks he hears, but the voices are so far away now. He doesn’t know that he’s crying until he feels a thumb wiping at his cheek, and Leo sucks in a breath. “You’re alright.”

The world stands still for what could be seconds or minutes or longer. When the doctor’s hand finally migrates upward, and a light is shined into each of Leo’s eyes, he is momentarily blinded, but immediately aware that he has lost time.

The doctor’s fingers, inches from his face, snap once. “Hi, Leo,” he says simply. And then, “I’m Dr. Grant. Are you with me?”

Leo swallows, which hurts, and other memories slide to the surface of the night before. He tries to nod. The movement makes his head pound. “Yes,” he whispers, but based on the doctor’s– what was his name?– grimace, he doesn’t think it came out right.

The doctor sighs and seemingly gives up on Leo’s active participation, instead pulling the blanket down to Leo’s waist and putting a stethoscope to Leo’s chest. It’s nothing, Leo thinks, but it’s never just this. He closes his eyes again and begins counting in his head. Every so often, he forgets where he left off, and he starts over.

The doctor explains what he’s doing as he works, and Leo wonders idly if it’s for his benefit or for some other reason. To pass the time, and maybe to distract himself, Leo imagines a new doctor in the adjacent observation room, learning this trade. He wonders if it’s a good doctor or a bad doctor, and opens his eyes just enough to glance toward the mirror, to see if he can spot him back there. There are no good doctors here, he decides, and starts counting again.

The doctor looks at Leo’s wrists and describes them to the handler, who writes it all down. He examines Leo’s arms and his shoulders and his chest and his stomach as he searches for signs that Parker hurt him beyond what would be considered reasonable, which he didn’t, Leo wants to say, and that Parker will come back for him after his trip, and that he needs to be ready to go home. Then he starts counting again, because the idea of telling this man that Parker will come back for him will be met with laughter, and Leo doesn’t know if he can handle it. He’s pretty sure he can’t.

Fingers prod at Leo’s stomach and he can’t suppress the accompanying flinch, and as the drugs start to wear thin, he feels himself less and less able to accept what is being done to him.

“Alright, Leo,” the doctor says, and Leo opens his eyes and is met with mostly, he thinks, concern.

“I’ll be back.” The doctor shoots the handler a look, and Leo wants to close his eyes again, but as the handler approaches, Leo knows, acutely, that it’s a bad idea.

“Are you going to cause a scene?” the handler asks, before lifting the blanket from Leo’s lap. Leo shrinks back, an instant passing in which his entire body goes rigid, but shakes his head ‘no.’ He hopes it’s enough.

He holds his breath, waiting for it to be over, or, waiting for it to start, and feels the handler’s eyes sliding down his body.

He thinks he might be shaking, but he isn’t sure.

The doctor returns a moment later, and after a quick assessment of how things have evolved, issues a quick but gentle, “It’s alright.” It’s not, though, and Leo locks his jaw to keep from crying. He wants to ask if he can close his eyes again. Sometimes they would let him, when things were about to get really bad, in initial training. Sometimes, if he asked clearly, and if he caught them on a good day, they would let him.

“No wonder he was returned,” the handler says, leaning back against the wall.

“Can I close my eyes?” he whispers then, before he can catch the humor in the handler’s expression. The doctor looks at him once, and nods. Leo doesn’t hesitate to clamp his eyes shut, unwilling to chance opening them at all, maybe ever, and instead continues counting in his head.

“Continue working on your empathy,” the doctor says evenly, but Leo is pretty sure he isn’t speaking to him so he works on breathing and counting and nothing else.

He tries to block out the words. This is another moment in training, and it too will end eventually.

“They put him through hell in training. He has a right to be mistrustful.” And then, to Leo, he says, “I’m going to give you something to help balance you out,” and his touch disappears. “Just hang tight, Leo.”

Without warning, a hand clamps around his neck, pinning him in place. His eyes fly open, his arms pull instinctively against the restraints, as the tip of a syringe is pushed past his teeth and to the back of his throat.

He gags, his head knocking back against the thin pillow, but the handler’s grip is merciless, and in the next instant, a thick, bitter liquid is sliding down his throat. Tears well in his eyes, and he would swear the culprit was simply the bitterness of the medicine.

It’s mistaken for something else, though, and the handler releases him as the doctor runs a hand through his hair and says, “You’re alright.”

Leo’s shaking harder now, and his fingers grip into the pad he lays on and he urges himself to still. His chest aches as he tries to catch his breath, the taste of the medicine still heavy on his tongue. But still, almost immediately, he can feel his body lightening, the tension pulling back until the shaking eases, and the doctor nods, and approaches. Leo can’t feel the fear he knows he should feel.

He can feel nothing.

Even with the memories of the night before, even with the doctor and the handler so close to him, he can breathe again.

Still, Leo can’t contain the subconscious jerk of his body as a flash of sharp pain shoots through him. The doctor issues an apology, along with a soft, “almost done,” and turns the swab, over and over, as Leo’s legs fight against the hands that hold them in place. He tries to find a place in his mind to retreat into, but he hasn’t been there in months, if not longer, and in that moment, it offers no reprieve. He thinks he cries out, locking his teeth and pressing his head back into the pillow as hard as he can to distract himself from what goes on lower. When the doctor is finished, he wipes Leo down and drapes the blanket over his lap.

What he doesn’t say is ‘Good, Leo,’ because they would both know it to be untrue.

Still, in the next breath, the restraints are being unbuckled, and Leo is lifted at his shoulders until he is sitting, and his wrists are being examined, and there is a hand rubbing his back. He blinks slowly, willing the room back into focus, and he can hear voices but he isn’t able to follow their conversation.

“It doesn’t need to be this hard,” he thinks the handler is saying, and even though his head is hung low and his shoulders are scrunched to make him as small as possible, in his peripherals he can see the doctor shooting the handler a sharp look. “What?” he bites back. “It’s true.”

“Alright, Leo,” the doctor says then, ignoring the handler entirely. Leo keeps his eyes locked on the ground and he takes the blanket in a white-knuckled grip.

The doctor lets him catch his breath, rubbing his back every few seconds. Leo thinks he’s using it to get a read on his heart rate, but he doesn’t care just then. The doctor explains what’s next, and moves to ease Leo onto his side. Leo, for his part, cooperates, lowering himself slowly, watching as his fingers shake. He wraps his arms so tightly around his stomach he think he might leave bruises, but when the doctor touches him, he doesn’t flinch.

“There’s some bruising,” the doctor says neutrally, but Leo can’t look at the handler to see if he types it. It could be from the handlers, or it could be from Parker’s friends the night before. Leo chokes on his next breath, and in spite of the drugs, he can feel the panic rising.

“Leo?” the doctor says. “Are you doing alright?”

The handler takes a step forward.

“I don’t consent to this,” Leo whispers, so softly he isn’t sure anyone hears him. The look the handler levels on him is scathing. “I–I kn…know it doesn’t… I know it doesn’t matter.” His voice is soft, slurred around the edges, but clear enough. “But I… I j-just– I want to make sure you know.”

The doctor says nothing, and the handler frowns. Leo wants to ask him to type it into his chart, but the doctor moves behind him, and Leo’s vision is suddenly and immediately blurred by his tears.

By the time they finish, by the time the doctor drapes the blanket over his hips, letting his hand rest on Leo’s head briefly before retreating, Leo’s body is wracked with sobs. They leave him to calm himself down, and he finds himself, for a moment, grateful for the simple mercy.

But he cannot stop crying, as he stares into the mirror and thinks of all he’s lost. Of what, in spite of what he tried to convince himself he could have, he will never have. Of Parker, laughing with his friends as he picks out a new worker. Of the handler, and all those that came before him, smiling as they hurt him. The door opens with no warning and a familiar voice, a voice warm enough to burn Leo’s entire world down, issues a commanding, clear, “Stop this, Leo.”

And almost instantly, Leo stops.

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#Med Whump #Gratuitous Med Whump #Medical Restraints #Chemical Restraints #Noncon Touch #Referenced Noncon #Parker Destin #Institutionalized Slavery #Noncon Drugging #Conditioning #Referenced Food/Water Restriction #Referenced/Described STI testing #Referenced/Described Shock Collar #Whumper POV #literally over 4k words wtf #get leo a pet fish and warm hug when?

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