#one of my favourite scenes in the show so far for sure

[squiggyyyy]

now that thunderbolts has been released, i'm once again seeing people online responding to complaints that bucky's trauma is never fleshed out, with the following similar responses:

- "his trauma had 10 years to be fleshed out, why are you guys so obsessed with seeing him suffer?"

yeah.. no. bucky may have been on the screen for all six phases but he is rendered absolutely irrelevant after civil war (where - and i'm saying this as somebody who loves civil war bucky - he kinda is just a plot device for steve and tony to have more tension between them).

it's laughable to ever describe his trauma as fleshed our when no character even acknowledges his trauma?? he has gone through the worst horrors imaginable. it's like marvel thinks if they point his trauma out, they realize his "recovery" is near impossible (which is why it wasn't shown on screen). bucky DID have all these years to be fleshed out, but he wasn't. even by the second act of civil war it was like "okay we gotta make them teamup, make bucky stop being rightfully feral and guarded and just have him chill with steve and a bunch of randos who he doesn't know if he tried to murk an hour ago."

i've always adored this scene in civil war. despite having been practically feral, at arms length and desperate to run, once caught, bucky shows that he has regained himself somewhat and accepts the name of his past enough to correct zemo. this one scene gives us so much insight into bucky's psyche.

my favourite part about the bucky in civil war by FAR - aside from that red henley - is the way for the first half that bucky is on edge, has no idea what's going on, he's anxious, guarded, like a volatile, stray dog.

the way he looks at t'challa with shock, then just starts fighting. the way he is guarded with steve, yet comes up behind him, just to lie to him. the way he runs in the tunnels and frantically swerves to avoid being hit by a car here because he just has no fucking clue what's going on yet he's still fighting the fight

one thing about bucky's mcu story is that we never see how he heals. i don't buy for one second that a man who was brainwashed, manipulated, tortured with electroshock, physically abused and spent by far the majority of his life as a weaponized soviet assassin is going to be in any way okay. for christ's sake, this dude should have the final boss ptsd. yet it's nearly wrapped in a bow in some cameos of wakanda. we. never. see. it.

you may have also noticed that a lot of bucky's trauma is not credited to the writing of it, but to sebastian stan's amazing SILENT acting that makes you feel it. seriously, the amount of praise sebastian (rightfully) got for the way he made bucky look tormented is insane. this dude carried it

tfatws was arguably the last chance to do something with bucky - finally, six episodes to focus on his psyche! wowzers! instead, we get the INSULTING storyline that bucky needs to apologise to the people HE hurt and that this also somehow cures his mental health issues, though honestly the show swept around this by laughably not even showing us anything not skin deep. he has nightmares, he's a bit angsty - sure, that's easy to recover from when that's a you show a character going through. it's clear the backstory of bucky was them biting off more than they could chew, and wouldn't fit in with their story, so they condensed it and made it easier to make bucky a sidekick by essentially retconning his past trauma so that instead of having any of the severe mental health issues we expect of bucky, he was instead just. chilling.

so no. i'm not somehow being evil to a character and wanting them to constantly suffer. i realized, walking out of the cinema (spoilers for thunderbolts!!) that the reason i wanted bucky to have a void room is because it would mean the mcu would finally acknlowedge bucky's trauma. because let's be real. the character of the winter soldier, and post winter soldier recovery bucky are so unbelievable different with barely any material for how he got here that he may as well be a different character and not a loved character who i know and connect to the fucking winter soldier movie.

so, by having bucky never acknowledge the winter soldier apart from a quip, it makes it so easy to not have to ever, ever communicate just how he got from point A to point B. i want him to suffer because it means his backstory would finally be acknowledged by him, and others, and it would be cathartic and we'd see how he healed from it instead of the mcu just TELLING us that he healed from it. or even better just having him suddenly be better because the plot requires it (looking at you, second half of civil war)

anyway.. where was i on that civil war point?

you recover from trauma, expecially with the right support system, but trauma changes you. that doesn't have to be a bad thing, but for somebody who went through what bucky did, if he was a real guy he would've found a way to commit suicide a million times over by now, it's only bearing the logic of him being a character on screen that he lives. i think bucky would've been at his best if he fundamentally stayed the way he was for the first half of civil war - constantly guarded, closed off, timid in a way, volatile and willing to fight when needed even though he's just so exhausted of it, because something in him is just urging him to survive. that, at least, would've been way more believable than "completely adjusted, a bit angsty and awkward, skirts around any real discussion of mental health in favour of prancing around how steve rogers something something" like we got in tfatws.

civil war bucky was the last time mcu was willing to establish to us that bucky has FUNDAMENTALLY changed from his experiences, he doesn't go leaping in steve's arms and is clearly constantly on guard, and i think that's important to note because it's so easy to say "well they do acknowledge he's changed and he has trauma, he had the code words erased in wakanda.." but that was not a demonstration of how he was fundamentally forever affected by this trauma at all, it was a one-off point in a series manufactured only because they needed him to be more mentally stable than he'd never be to move the cogs of the plot along. (along with the fact it's clear that somehow erasing the words is meant to heal bucky of all his problems)

so yeah. no, i don't want to see bucky suffering and i am absolutely reasonable for being upset that thunderbolts is just another movie to sweep bucky's trauma and recovery to the side, because we never saw his recovery so the only way we'll ever connect this guy to bucky is if we see. him. acknowledge his past because holy shit he is a different person and i'd love bucky to be this mentally stable if we were shown it

one thing to note is that this dissonance is always made exceptionally clear by things like fanfiction that actually show bucky's trauma and recovery and do it in a way that doesn't shy away from any scary topics, which makes it all the more realistically brutal and cathartic when he recovers. that's why i've never fully gotten past 2016 bucky - because neither did the mcu as it just made a new character, whilst fanfiction writes all the things in the gaps of the original movies, so it also never got past it

[mudboyman]

screenshot redraw of Alastor having a snack

[unnonexistence]

idk if there's anything in stories i get more petty about than poorly-written "main character shows up to a new place and meets everyone" character introduction scenes

[odoraful]

𝑻𝑶𝑼𝑪𝑯𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑽𝑬𝑫 ᯓ 𝒁𝑨𝒀𝑵𝑬

⟡ content: gn!reader ; established relationship (i wanna say early relationship, maybe the first time he travels away from you) ; kissing ; zayne showering you with affection as soon as he possibly can ; tooth-rooting fluff ; mildly suggestive, but nothing too crazy ; 0.9k wc ⟡ a/n : trying to practice writing physical affection and i have some ideas for the other boys so i might write more touchstarved scenes hehe i hope you enjoy reading, mwah !

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Travelling for the week to attend a conference meant that Zayne had a fairly packed schedule. However, the days always passed excruciatingly slow when he was apart from you. He did make the effort to keep in contact. Nights were reserved for calls with you, even if it was only for an hour or so before tiredness overcame him. However, waking up without you curled beside him meant he could never really shake off the fatigue. When the day finally came for his return to Linkon, Zayne’s heart stirred as he passed the familiar streets of the city, all leading back to you.

To properly welcome your boyfriend back, you arrived at his house ready with sweets and affection. You were neatly arranging a plate of macarons from one of Zayne’s favourite patisserie when the doorbell chimed. You hurried over to the front door, your slippers tapping against the polished floors. A holographic intercom appeared showing who was outside.

Zayne wore his classic black dress shirt and pants, the shirt having its top button undone to reveal his collarbone. The small rolling suitcase beside him held a familiar luggage tag that you decorated for him.

“Observing me through the intercom?”

Zayne voice was crackly through the microphone. His head was cocked in light amusement, staring directly into the camera. He knew your MO far too well. You tapped on the button to allow your voice to be heard.

“You always need to check whether the person at the door is who you’re expecting,” you answered, watching his holographic image.

He blinked away with a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Then, I hope I’m the right person.”

You closed the intercom and unlocked the door, meeting him face to face. To Zayne, seeing you at last was like feeling the sun warm his skin up in the morning. You presence urged him awake, and he felt his liveliness return once more. You were grinning, joy sparkling in your eyes as you spoke,

“Mhm, you’re the right one for me.”

Without speaking, Zayne opened his arms out, almost guided by some kind of gravitational pull towards you. His arms circled your waist as he rested his head against yours, breathing in the faint, perfumed scent of shampoo. You cradled against his chest and his heart stuttered. It felt so natural, like you were always meant to be in his embrace. A sigh fell from his lips, complete relief at being able to hold you again.

After a few content moments, he pulled away, straightening himself. He realized he hadn’t showered yet and needed to do so before anything further happened.

You closed the door as Zayne walked inside. He immediately noticed the plate of macarons on the table, the washed and fluffed pillows on his sofa, the bouquet of fresh flowers sitting in a glass vase. Traces of your kindness that he had missed dearly.

“I’ll wash up first.” Zayne said, before entering his bedroom. “Don’t worry about my luggage, I can sort it myself.” He collected a set of loungewear from his wardrobe and a towel before disappearing into the bathroom.

You sat on the sofa to wait for him, scrolling through Moments posts on your phone. Your gaze kept wandering towards the plate of macarons in front of you. They looked too enticing for you not to try. Surely Zayne wouldn’t mind if you had a little taste first.

As if on cue, he appeared, towel in hand as he dried off his hair. He caught you with a sheepish expression on your face and a half-eaten macaron in your hand. You quickly placed it back on the plate as he loomed over you. If there was anyone serious about sweets, it would be him.

“I’m sorry I tried it without you, they were just—”

Zayne tossed the towel to the side and leaned in, stealing your apology from being spoken.

A familiar warmth blossomed between you as his lips captured yours. A week was far too long and he had spent much of his downtime thinking of this exact moment. His gentle hands cupped your face as he moved in closer still, raising his knee up to rest by your thigh.

“Zayne!” you voice was a squeaked muffle as your head met the back of the sofa, the soft backing cushioning the impact.

“Mhm,” he answered in a low tone, enjoying the way you said his name.

His tongue pressed between your lips—coaxing you to satiate his hunger. You parted your mouth, giving him permission to indulge. Zayne wasn’t someone you’d describe as spontaneous, yet times like these always caught you off guard. Though, it definitely wasn’t unwelcome. Admittedly, you had been craving this in his absence also.

He pulled away, admiring the flush on your cheeks as if you had been in the shower instead of him.

“Strawberry matcha,” he said, subtly licking his lips. He could taste remnants of a mild earthiness combined with fragrant berry. “Is my guess correct?”

You let out a breath of disbelief, realizing his move had another motive as well.

“It is, but you know you can pick up the macarons yourself to eat,” you replied with a pout, covering you mouth with the back of your hand.

“I’d prefer to have a different dessert first.” Zayne grasped your wrist and interlocked his fingers with yours. Moving your hand away, he saw your gaze flicking from his eyes and lips. “If that’s alright with you.”

You quickly nodded. He kissed you once more, smiling against your lips as you melted into his touch. Sorting out the luggage and eating the macarons could wait until a little later.

[originalwinnerfanfish]

Well, I did it

Megatron - I love his tfp design. Probably one of the best iteration of Megs. He is huge, heavy armoured, his face covered with scars… He doesn’t looks like an ordinary military leader who is only capable of giving orders, but like real warrior who can destroy any enemy with his bare hands.

So, in the WOF version, he definitely shares some features with Princess Burn, not only because of his might, but also because of his horns shape and dirty-dark scales (that absorbed blood of his enemies)

Starscream - Boy, I hate him so much 🤣… but in the good way, trust me! In my opinion, when the show's creators make you feel such strong negative emotions towards a villain, it means they've done a great job. Also, I think that his animation in the show was absolutely incredible, because even though he's a 3D model, he still manages to move like a 2D character, which is amazing!

I feel that in my design he still looks more like a skywing, than an icewing (which is kinda logical)

Soundwave - This one was tricky. I couldn't figure out what his mask would look like, so I just made his face a really dark color. I think Soundwave has both gifts of the nightwings, and he’s equally great at telepathy and a future vision. So he doesn't really need equipment to predict enemy movements, which makes him an ideal communicator in the WOF setting. His Laserbeak is part of the armor enchanted by Shockwave, and it might also allow him to open portals (but I'm not sure with this one)

Shockwave - My favourite evil genius. He would definitely have animus magic and mind reading. I think Shockwave is the only one who has advanced the study of magic so far, precisely because he combined it with scientific knowledge and created safer methods of using it, that don't damage the mind. It's like if a Mastermind got animus magic in books.

I also like to think that he didn't heal the damaged part of his face just so that his enemies would fear him more)

Dreadwing - This man deserved better! It's really a shame that he was removed from the show so quickly due to financial problems. It would be great if his arc got a proper conclusion in season 3.

Considering that I didn't want to make him a hybrid, it was difficult to choose a suitable color palette. So let’s just say, that I tried my best😅

I don’t think that he would have any nightwing powers, but honestly it doesn’t even matter - this guy can make a bombs, what else does he need to be cool

Arachnid - Did anyone even doubt that she would be a hivewing? Damn, she even got her own “Othermind” virus. Her design was the easiest to work with - just a little poisonous ass (suspiciously similar to Maleficent).

Just like Starscream, I hate her, but in a good way. She's one of the creepiest characters in the entire series, who’s acting like a fucking heartless monster, especially with Arcee, but even so, there's always was something mesmerizing about her. I just really like strong female villains

Knockout - Wery bright and charismatic guy, definitely one of my fav cons!

I tried to draw him as handsome as possible. Worked a lot on the face shape and coloring, and as for me it turned out pretty nice (finally).

Most decepticons think Knockout is as stupid and lazy as all the other rainwings. And it's not like he completely disagrees with that. Of course he’s not stupid and lazy, but if it’s means less dirty work on the battlefield, well, he’ll continue act like a tipical rainwing

(I also believe that Megatron keeps him as an “art”)

Breakdown - Fun fact: "Operation Breakdown" was the very first thing I saw in this series. And it was an interesting experience for 8 year old me. Maybe that's why I'm so scared of eye gouging scenes in movies now…

I think that he didn't have any siblings initially due to his parents nature, and even after meeting Bulkhead, he felt uncomfortable among the other mudwings. And this is why he later chose the side of the decepticons. And maaaaybe because of one cute rainwing influence)

P.s.

I think that, being mostly nightwings and icewings, the decepticons are much more concerned about purity of their blood and rarely accept half-breeds into their ranks.

During the war, there were many animus dragons among decepticons, which is why they have so many artifacts that allowed teleportation and communication at a distance. But, honestly, I still can't imagine what Nemesis would look like in this AU

[choochooboss]

Sketch dump! Vol. 5

September 2022 (Part 1/2)

The first piece on top summarised my cosplay rush for Tracon 2022! The second is an old idea for a charm.

"SURPRISE!!"

Back in 2022 I hosted an art raffle for reaching 777 followers on Twitter! The winner would get their submas themed idea realised (which was their friends throwing a surprise party for the twins!). I wanted to make a little comic and have the bosses walk in their office where depot agents, Elesa, Drayden, Skyla, Clay etc. would be waiting with decorations and treats and games.

Emmet is all smiles of course while Ingo gets so emotional he could only whisper a "super bravo".

Not really headcanons anymore but still funny ideas.

1. Emmet gets clumsy when off-rhythm! He starts walking in curves if there is nobody else around to match his rhythm with.

2. Emmet spaces out/forgets to say things aloud when someone speaks too long or when things go off-script! His thinking gets interrupted easily.

3. Ingo sometimes bumps into doors because he is too used to automatic doors!

4. When things go off-script Ingo speaks too much and rushes in straight lines"

Also my little inexpensive sketchbook & my trusty tools! Mechanical pencil and eraser pen are life when scribbling my skrimblos smaller than a postage stamp!

More Ingo~ I utilise a wide range of sources for references, including CSP's poseable 3D models, they can come really handy with perspectives and proportions!

The second piece is my very first attempt at cosplay in Tracon 2022: Blingo! I walked in with a sequin hat, leather jacket, leather pants and high heel patent leather boots.

The hardest part of cosplaying Ingo is remembering NOT to smile ahaha!

Some hairstyle tests

I drew these for a huge submas art collaboration over Twitter hosted by @/mimizukeii!! It was technically my first art collab before I started arranging them myself with Aggie/Magma.

While looking for train related songs I found this cute nursery rhyme to go with the marching:

"Over the mountains,

Over the plains,

Over the rivers,

Here come the trains.

Carrying passengers,

Carrying mail,

Bringing their precious loads In without fail"

I wanted to compare these silly twins, planning to do something more silly with them later. Also a sketch of @/fukurow's butler designs I never finished.. The capes compliment them so well, I love them!!

Prequel to this piece! Emmet is so confident in himself he thinks Pierce wants to learn from him but is invited for a duet on the stage instead!!

Emmet has really great voice actors in Pokemas! I especially love how his english VA gives him that bri'ish/posh/sophisticated vibe while also soft and melodic! I know for SURE this VA/Emmet can sing, I can show you later!

One of my favourite sketches!! I wanted to add a bunch of characters in the BG reacting to this sonic blast of emotion over a performance!

Heyyy it's the smile buddies comic!! I really hope Ingo gets to interact with Marnie in Pokemas one day!!

I feel Ingo's eyes in the mirror panel is a little off in the final comic, I meant to keep it softer like in the sketch!

It's Nimbasa trio!! Idea inspired by submas EX uniform colors. Might continue this later!

Some BG tests for this piece! Compositing is hard but absolutely worth the effort, it can make a huge difference in the appeal of your piece!!

Practise piece drawing over a photo I thought was cool! I want to get more experimental with lighting and perspective!

'How's it hanging bro?' Who hung him up there anyway??

Sketch for this arguing scene! Something REALLY BAD needs to happen for them to end up that tense! Even if I want to present them close to the canon material I still want to put them in really challenging situations to see how far I can push their emotions!

Thank you so much for coming all the way down here!! This set was pretty loaded, I hope you enjoyed scrolling through all this ahah!

Previous posts:

Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 4: July 2022 Part 2

[pazziescapism]

Break Our Ice - Chapter 4

pairing: paige x azzi

wc: 12.1k

au fic what??, figureskater!Azzi x icehockeyplayer!Paige

fake dating, just like playful banter teasing relationship to lovers, basically paige and azzi dancing around each other

a/n: HI GUYS!! i am truly sorry for the wait i have no idea why this chapter took me so long, honestly this is definitely my least favourite chapter and sorry if it seems choppy i took out and rearranged heaps of scenes i don't watch ice skating or ice hockey so i didn't really think about how i would write about it... AHAH anyway i guess this is kinda the last chapter?? i think id be down to do some bonus ones but i am working on something new so we will see, again thank you for reading! ps, did u see that wc?? 12k, yes im very proud

Someone is pulling Azzi to the side, a hand digging into the meat of her upper arm, hard enough to bruise. She’s having a hard time registering anything over the noise and lights. It feels like there’s a hundred people surrounding her, pushing her off to the side, crushing her by the borders.

Then the crowd falls away, and Paige’s in front of her looking harried. The press continues to shout from the side, the noise a little quieter now that they’ve moved, a crowd of people in front of them like a barricade.

“Ah, man,” Ice says, next to the two of them. “Bad luck.”

“I’ve got to go back out and do press,” Paige says, and she looks upset, running a hand jerkily through her hair. “Can you get someone to take Azzi out the back way?”

“It’s only the tabloids,” Azzi says and stays where she is. The situation is mixing badly with the insecurity in her chest, her head. Something selfish and angry has taken up residency in her, curling and twisting unpleasantly. 

“That’s the problem,” Paige says, not even looking at her, her face scanning the crowd, like she’s already searching for a way to get Azzi away. 

Like a picture of them together would be something so dreadful. 

“They’re already here,” Azzi points out, not moving. “Who cares if they get a picture or two?”

Paige frowns. She’s gotten fully ready to act within seconds, Azzi’s coat clutched in her hands. “They’ll come to the wrong conclusions,” she says, and Azzi’s heart sinks. 

The unpleasant feelings in her stomach give a sharp twist, and Azzi feels herself smile and knows it must look off.

“As long as they’re here,” she whispers, leaning in closer to Paige. “Let’s give them a show.” 

Paige’s eyes drop to her lips, like Azzi knew they would; for an instant, their faces are inches apart. She hears someone yell, and the camera’s go off again, too many bright lights to see, photographers moving around the crowd in front of them to get a picture. Paige steps fully away from her, panicked expression twisting into something sharper.

“For fuck’s sake, Azzi,” Paige says, viciously angry, and Azzi steps back too, taken aback by the reaction.

“I didn’t mean to,” she starts, and she isn’t sure what she didn’t mean to do so she lets that sentence trail off and starts again. “I didn’t mean it.” 

This doesn’t seem to make Paige feel much better, judging by the volume of her retort, her eyes angrier than Azzi’s ever seen them, as she shoves Azzi’s jacket into her arms. “You can’t just fuck around with my life when you get bored. Those pictures are going to be everywhere by tomorrow.”

“Don’t yell at me,” Azzi says back, her face burning hot with what might be anger, or might be shame. She’s off-balance, tilting too far one way and then the next. I don’t understand, she wants to yell. She wants, selfish as it seems, for Paige to understand her, without Azzi having to explain. 

Is it that awful to be seen with me? Azzi thinks, her head buzzing miserably.

Ice’s got her by the arm, then and they’re both heading down a dark little hallway, leading out to the parking lot. 

“I practice here too,” Azzi snaps, and yanks her arm away. Her jacket is gripped in her arms, and the jersey suddenly feels tight and humiliating on her skin. “I know the way.”

Ice doesn’t seem to take offense, which makes Azzi feel worse, just nods good-naturedly, her head ducked to avoid stray cameras. “That makes sense.”

Azzi swallows, hard. “I’m sorry,” she says, and that at least, is sincere. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ice tells her, and then hesitates as they exit out into the employee’s only section of the parking lot. Someone must have told Caroline, because Azzi can see her car heading towards them. “Hey, and- um, Paige just kind of hates cameras more than the rest of us, so, I mean, try not to-”

“Whatever,” Azzi says, cutting her off. She doesn’t really need the reminder. 

It’s freezing outside, thick dark clouds rolling over the sky, threatening snow at any minute. Azzi shivers, and then steps away from Ice as Caroline pulls up, nodding goodbye stiffly. 

To Caroline’s credit, she doesn’t ask any questions as Azzi angrily peels the jersey off the second they get onto the road, leaving her in only the thin sweater she had been wearing underneath. For good measure, she throws it on the floor and stomps on it, her dirty sneakers creating a bizarre black mark over the fabric, before throwing it to the back of the car. 

She considers slipping on the jacket, which at least doesn’t have Paige’s name written on it, but the image of Paige’s white knuckles around it as she tried to usher Azzi out as quickly as possible rises to mind and she chucks it to the back too. 

“So,” Caroline says casually, reaching over to turn the heating up in the car. “After game jitters?”

“Fuck you,” Azzi says bitterly. “Actually, fuck her. Let’s turn around so I can go slash her tires.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Caroline says, like a hint. 

“No,” Azzi says. “I already told you what I wanted to do, but you missed the turn.”

White flurries are starting to drift down outside the window, the wind picking up speed. Some of the flakes drift against the glass, individual specks so that Azzi can get a brief glimpse of the small symmetrical patterns making up each snowflake before they melt away against the window. 

“I’ve been trying so hard to make her like me,” Azzi says suddenly, into the quiet of the car, “and she doesn’t.”

“I’m sure she does,” Caroline says, accepting this too, without question. 

“She was such an asshole, just now,” Azzi seethes. “It’s one picture, will the world end? Will the sky fall?”

“I’m sure you already know this,” Caroline says, “but it was probably a bigger deal to her than it was to you.”

“I piss her off all the time,” Azzi points out. The anger is separating into hurt, a needle digging under the skin of her ribs. “She’s never reacted like that.”

Caroline doesn’t respond to this, as they pull into their neighbourhood. “You want to come over?” She offers. “Kaitlyn’s away for the day.”

Azzi is still considering this when her phone rings in her pocket, making her jump. She keeps meaning to set it to vibrate. She looks at the caller ID and considers hanging up. It would make her feel good, she reasons, give her a little vindictive pleasure. She’s aware of Caroline’s eyes still on her.

“Yes?” She says tersely, answering the phone. 

“Hey,” Paige’s voice sounds a little hoarse on the other end. “I ditched the press conference. I’m on my way home. I thought, maybe we could talk?”

Azzi stares out the window. The temperature’s dropped fast, and the wind has picked up, white snow starting to cover the sidewalks, clinging to the window and the windshield. 

 “Talk about what?” She asks, forcing herself to lean back against the seat. 

“Um,” Paige says. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like- I wanted to apologize.”

“I don’t want an apology, Paige,” Azzi says coldly. “I want to finally lay this humiliating chapter of my life to rest.”

“Azzi,” Paige says. “We won’t get anywhere if you refuse to talk about it.”

“There’s nowhere to go,” Azzi snaps. Her split lip stings as she speaks, newly scabbed over skin starting to split again. “We were never going anywhere to begin with.”

There’s a silence over the phone, only Paige’s breath filling the space, still so fucking steady. “You don’t mean that,” she says finally, voice charged with a bone-deep tiredness.

“This was always temporary,” Azzi says, always clawing her nails into wounds that are already bleeding, both her own and other people’s. “Sorry that you thought otherwise.”

“Fine,” Paige says into the phone, frustration jagged in her voice. “The dating part is fake, yeah, but- Christ, Azzi- I thought we were at least friends.”

Azzi is breathing too fast, too heavy. She wants to cry. She wants to scream some more. She wants to put her head on Paige’s shoulder and just breathe in the familiar smell of her, until they’re in sync again, inhaling and exhaling in the same rhythm. She doesn’t want to be friends.

“Go home, Paige,” she says, and feels the cavity in her chest split open a little further. There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end, so vulnerable it nearly rips her determination into shreds. The next thing she hears is the dial tone. 

The car is horribly silent. Azzi doesn’t look, but the sound of Caroline’s disapproval is nearly audible.

“Don’t start,” Azzi moans. “I just- fuck, do you think I fucked up?”

Caroline is quiet for a moment, long enough for Azzi to turn and see hesitation lining her face. 

“I think you would feel better if you were honest about your feelings,” she says finally. “Even if it doesn’t end up getting you what you want.”

Azzi lets her fingers fall, tracing over the material of her sweatpants. “It was going so well too,” she says, trying not to sound like she’s whining, and not quite succeeding.

“It’s not a real relationship, though,” Caroline says, and Azzi’s head snaps up in irritation.

“Thank you for that,” she says, curt. “Exactly what I needed to hear.”

“What I mean is,” Caroline sighs and then starts over. “It’s not real. It’s easy to have a great relationship if you don’t have as much to lose. You’ve been living in fantasyland.” 

“This is like, the most unhelpful you have ever been,” Azzi tells her. “And that is saying something.”

“All I’m saying is, if you want to have a relationship with her after this whole thing is over-”

“I don’t,” Azzi interrupts, and Caroline closes her eyes like this whole thing is horrible for her, personally.

“Sure. But if you do, you need to figure out whether this is all it’s going to take before you give up.

“Ugh,” Azzi says. She glares out the window again. The snow is starting to blow in heavy gusts outside, and when Caroline parks, she can see that it’s piling up on the staircase leading up to their building. The snowfall is starting to pick up speed, thick, soft heaps of white beginning to form, deep enough to get in your shoes, sink into your socks. 

The cab driver stops before turning into the long, narrow street leading to Paige’s building, and tells Azzi that with the current road conditions, she’ll either have to pay extra or walk the rest of the way. Azzi looks at the storm starting to rage outside, the snow swirling on strong winds, until she can barely see anything other than white through the window. She looks at the still-running meter. She decides to walk. 

About thirty seconds in, she’s regretting it. She didn’t bring a jacket with her, so the snow is flying everywhere, landing in any available gaps in her clothes and melting into ice cold water on contact with skin. Her feet are suffering the worst, the snow piling up inside her shoes, melting and then piling up again until she can’t feel her toes anymore. 

“Paige,” she says when she reaches the building, hitting the buzzer for Paige’s apartment. “Paige, if you don’t let me in, I’ll die. I’ll die, seriously.”

“Azzi?” Paige says over the intercom, static blurring her voice, and she says something that sounds like a question, but the locked door clicks and unlocks, and Azzi misses the words as she shuffles eagerly into the heated building. 

It’s only once she’s in the elevator, a minute away from Paige’s door that she realizes that she has no plan, she’s forgotten her speech, and the snow collected in her hair and clothing has melted, leaving her sopping wet and creating a puddle of dirty water where she’s standing. 

It’s all she can do to keep herself standing when Paige opens the door, her eyes widening as she takes in Azzi, sniffling only a little pathetically in her doorway, soaked to the bone in a thin sweater and sweatpants. 

“I’m sorry,” Azzi says, before Paige has the chance to say anything. “I didn’t mean to say- I just- we are friends and I want to keep being friends and I don’t want to fake break-up, and I’m a really terrible fake-girlfriend, but I want to keep being your terrible fake-girlfriend.”

Paige’s mouth opens. Closes again. She seems, for the first time since Azzi’s met her, to be at a total and complete loss for words. 

“And I’m sorry for pushing it about the picture thing,” Azzi continues nervously. A patch of melting snow is sliding down her back. “I didn’t want to- You hurt my feelings, a little, so I wanted to hurt your feelings and now I feel bad about that-”

“You are the dumbest person alive,” Paige says, and she grabs Azzi’s wrist and yanks her inside. 

She closes the door behind them, almost as an afterthought, her hands fluttering over Azzi’s body, her fingers, her neck, her cheek, bringing a moment of blissful warmth wherever they land. “You’re shaking, Jesus Christ. How far did you walk like this? There’s a blizzard warning out, are you stupid?”

Azzi peels her shoes off and then stands in the entranceway, unsure of where to go or what to say, her hair dripping water onto her already wet socks. 

“Unbelievable,” Paige is saying, already halfway across the living room before she realizes Azzi isn’t following. “Go, sit,” she says, and gestures at the stools across the kitchen counter. 

Azzi obediently takes a seat. 

It isn’t long before Paige returns to stand in front of her with a towel in her hands, and chucks it over Azzi’s wet hair, her hands scrubbing at it like she’s planning on taking Azzi’s whole head off. 

“What is wrong with you?” Paige is asking her, though it seems to be rhetorical, her hands still busy drying Azzi’s hair, none too gently. “No jacket, no scarf, not even any decent shoes. Did you look outside before you decided to come running to apologize? You know how long it takes to get frostbite?-”

“Paige,” Azzi interrupts and Paige stops, both the lecture and the scrubbing, tilting Azzi’s face up so their eyes meet. Azzi’s tongue flattens at the expectant look in her eyes, and it’s with considerable effort that she manages to start again. “Paige, you forgive me, right?”

For the second time in as many minutes, Paige looks absolutely floored by the words out of Azzi’s mouth. Azzi can’t explain it to herself, any more than she can explain it to Paige, but she needs to hear the words, needs to see the shape of them in Paige’s mouth. 

“Yes,” Paige says finally. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“I know,” Azzi says, a shaky smile lifting the edges of her mouth. 

Paige doesn’t move for a second, just watches Azzi, her green eyes contemplative. Then she starts drying Azzi’s hair again, a gentler set to her mouth, if not to her technique. 

“You have qualifiers in a couple days,” she continues, as if nothing had happened, Azzi’s neck aching from the directions it’s being pushed and pulled in. “What would you have done if you’d gotten sick? Would you have sat out? Idiot.”

  “I would have won anyway,” Azzi mumbles, a little guiltily, and then screeches at a particularly rough yank on her head. “But I won’t if I go bald! Paige!” 

“Oops,” Paige says, not sounding very regretful. “Was that one too much?”

“Obviously, you fucking-” Azzi wails as Paige does it again. “Paige, my hair!” 

Paige snickers, and pulls the towel away completely, tossing it into Azzi’s lap. “Drop this off in the laundry. And find some clean clothes and take a warm shower. I’ll get you some hot water with lemon and honey, so you don’t catch a cold. Silly girl.”

Azzi doesn’t answer, busy trying to feel her aching scalp for possible bald patches. 

“Don’t worry,” Paige tells her, pushing her off the stool. “I promise you’re still pretty.”

Azzi whips around, beaming, ignoring Paige’s increasingly forceful attempts to shove her in the direction of the laundry room. “You think I’m pretty, Paige?” 

She says it as half a joke, mostly expecting Paige to roll her eyes and push her away. It catches her by surprise when Paige’s expression softens instead, as she reaches up to push a strand of damp hair behind Azzi’s ear, the pad of her fingertip brushing softly over the shell of Azzi’s ear. 

“You’re very pretty,” she says indulgently, her hand falling back to her side, Azzi staring at her wide-eyed. “Even when you’re at my door looking like a drowned puppy.”

Azzi goes to take a shower without further comment. 

When she pads out, significantly calmer, in barefeet and a soft bathrobe, Paige is squeezing some lemon into a glass, the hot water creating condensation along the sides of the glass, fogging it up. It tastes honey-sweet going down Azzi’s throat, warming her up where the heat of the shower didn’t reach. 

She feels warmer still when Paige presses her up against the kitchen counter, rough hands slipping inside the bathrobe, spreading across her back, as she licks into Azzi’s mouth like she can taste the remnants of honey and lemon lingering on Azzi’s tongue.

“Your lip is bleeding,” she murmurs, pulling away from Azzi, kissing the corner of her mouth in apology. “Sorry.”

Azzi licks over her lower lip, tastes metal in her mouth and grimaces. “Oops.”

Paige is already grabbing a tissue, and running it under the tap. She squeezes water out into the drain and presses the damp tissue to Azzi’s mouth, wiping away where the blood has smeared. Azzi winces at the contact, and Paige holds her chin between a finger and a thumb, keeping her in place. “Stay still, baby.”

Baby, Azzi thinks delightedly, lets the sound echo inside her brain. She’s still thinking about the word choice when she realizes Paige’s stepped away. 

“Does it hurt?”

Azzi blinks. “Huh?” 

Paige stares at her. Azzi stares back.

“Your lip?” Paige prompts, after it becomes clear that Azzi won’t be answering, a small smile playing at her own mouth. “It’s bleeding.”

“Oh,” Azzi says. She’s lost it. “Yes. The lip. It was bleeding. Still bleeding?”

Paige just looks at her, her eyes blinking slowly, like Azzi is the most fascinating person in the world. If this was anyone else, Azzi thinks, she would probably be embarrassed. But Paige just smiles at her, and Azzi can only muster up the smallest hint of sheepishness at being caught out so directly.

“Yes,” she amends, and wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. “It hurts lots. Kiss it better.”

Paige groans, her hands landing on Azzi’s shoulders, resisting her attempts to pull them back together. “You are insufferable. Did you know that?”

“Yes,” Azzi says again, honestly, and she nudges her cold nose into the space between Paige’s shoulder and collarbone, drinks in the smell of Paige’s perfume (which she thinks is actually a cologne) “But here you are. Suffering.”

Paige’s eyes meet Azzi’s and hold eye contact, her face unreadable. Then she sighs. “You have no idea.”

Azzi doesn’t know what to make of this insult that doesn’t sound like an insult. She doesn’t respond, she presses cold feet against Paige’s shin in retaliation, grinning at her put-out expression.

“I can’t believe your toes didn’t fall off,” she says, and tugs Azzi over to her fireplace using the belt on her borrowed robe.

Azzi settles cross-legged in front of the blazing heat, lets it sweep over her back, feeling thrillingly, deliriously happy, sparks running up her still damp skin, making her heart beat faster in her chest. 

“What do you look so happy about?” Paige asks, when Azzi grabs her and tugs her closer. She goes willingly, her head settling in Azzi’s lap, wincing as Azzi’s cold hands come around to pull at her cheeks. 

“I’ve accepted my fate,” Azzi tells her.

“Your fate as what, exactly?” Paige says, the words mumbled as Azzi tugs on her face.

Azzi doesn’t answer, just leans forward and plants a kiss on her forehead, right above the bridge of her nose. 

Has Paige’s New Relationship Gone Cold? Hockey Player ‘Iced Out’ by Figure Skating Fling!

Azzi’s Out On Her Ass! ‘Hit the Slopes!’ Says Paige! “On Thin Ice” Says Exclusive Source.

Azzi, Cold on the Ice, Colder in Bed?! Insider Sources Speak Out About Skating Couple’s Frigid Romance!

“Kaitlyn,” Azzi says, interrupting Kaitlyn’s dramatic reading. “You could read these in your head.”

“Good literature deserves to be shared,” Kaitlyn tells her, and holds up a new one. “A source close to the couple reveals the relationship has been on the rocks for months. Did you know that?”

“Where are they getting all these sources from?” Azzi wonders out loud. 

“Beats me,” Kaitlyn says mournfully. “I’ve been calling offices all day to tell them you’ve got mad cow disease. Nobody even cares.”

Azzi pauses, looking up from the suitcase she’s packing at Kaitlyn, who’s draped over her bed. “You know humans can’t get mad cow disease, right?”

Kaitlyn, who is ostensibly meant to be helping Azzi pack, stops flipping through tabloids to look at Azzi, horrified. “Are you serious? I’ve wasted so many phone calls, man.”

“It’s literally called cow disease,” Azzi says, and Kaitlyn is still complaining when the door swings open, creaky hinges announcing Caroline’s arrival. 

“There was a whole section about you guys on my way home. Like a whole section of a newsstand with just your faces on it,” she calls, already halfway into Azzi’s apartment. Azzi does not remember giving her a key.

“Did you bring any back?” Kaitlyn asks, already bounding up in excitement.

“Breaking!” Caroline reads, walking into the bedroom. She hasn’t changed out of the branded shirt she wears to work, a cartoonish smiling skull peering down at Azzi from under her own face, pressed against Paige’s on a magazine cover, bold lettering over their bodies.  “Azzi, Withholding Her ‘Icicle’ From New Girlfriend?! ‘Not Until Marriage’ New Sources Report.”

“Who is writing these?” Azzi asks in amazement. 

“And who is doing their fact-checking?” Kaitlyn says, peering down at the page over Caroline’s shoulder. “They should be fired.”

“Are you guys breaking up?” Caroline asks, and both her and Kaitlyn are staring at Azzi, expressions nauseatingly similar. “I need to know where to place my bets.”

“How’s the casual sex going for you?” Kaitlyn adds, looking irritatingly knowing. “Still no feelings?”

Azzi looks back down at her suitcase. It’s too full. If she adds anything else to it, she won’t be able to get it closed, but she hasn’t even packed any clothes yet. “No,” she says to the peanut gallery, an answer to both questions. She adds her folded clothes and takes the performance makeup out. She can probably put that in the carry-on.

 “I’m starting a six-year plan to make her fall in love with me,” she says casually. “Can one of you come help me close this?”

“I love being friends with you,” Kaitlyn says, neither of them moving. “Every decision you make is worse than the last. Like a slow-motion car crash. Thrilling.”

“Why is it taking her six years to fall in love with you?” Caroline asks.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Azzi says. “At the end of the six years we get married. The suitcase?”

“Thrilling,” Kaitlyn repeats, and comes over to plant her full body weight on top of the suitcase so that Azzi can zip it closed. 

Azzi is staggeringly drunk. Mind-bendingly drunk. Everything is swirling into pieces around her and then swirling back together, the noise pounding in her eardrums reverberating through her entire body. It’s loud, sweaty, hot, crowded. The smell of alcohol is stinging her nose, a too-expensive bottle of champagne still staining her clothes, sticky where it touches her skin. 

Every now and then, the realization comes back to her and then she’s smiling again, her cheeks aching with the force of it, her throat raw from screaming. 

“I made it!” She yells to Caroline. The two of them are so close together but her voice is carried off in the noise regardless, and she can see Caroline blink as she tries to process. 

Then Caroline is grinning back at her, just as wide. “We made it!” She yells back, and Azzi throws her head back to laugh, giddy. 

Someone pulls her away and Azzi goes willingly, out of her mind with joy and nearly deaf from the music.

The quiet of the evening, when she stumbles outside, is an ice-cold shock. The sudden stillness surrounding her, the indiscernible noise of screaming teenagers in the background. It had been a struggle to extricate herself, a tugging push and pull until she made it out into the night air. She’s pressing the call button before she can talk herself out of it. 

“Azzi?” She hears Paige say, only a dark blurry shape on the small screen of her phone. There’s rustling movement, the click of a lamp, and then Paige’s face is peering blearily at her, illuminated by soft yellow light. “Are you wearing bunny ears?”

“I think I got them from a fetish store!” Azzi tells her, and it’s only when Paige flinches away from the phone screen that she realizes she had been yelling. She lowers her voice abashedly. “They wouldn’t let you in without a costume,” she whispers, like she’s letting Paige in on a secret. “But I didn’t have one.”

Paige falls back and Azzi can hear her laugh tiredly, voice still gravelly with sleep. She must have set the phone down, because all Azzi can see now is the ceiling of the hotel Paige must be staying at. Her team had left for a series of away games, both of them now far from home. 

“Paige,” she says to the ceiling. “I can’t see your face anymore.” Her words are starting to blur together, but she can’t concentrate enough to pull them back apart.

“Sorry, sorry,” Paige mutters, and there’s another rustle before her face returns, now with headphones. “Are you out celebrating?”

The word celebrating reminds Azzi why she called to begin with and she beams back at the camera, exhilarated once again. “I made it! I’m going to the Olympics!”

Paige is laughing again, though Azzi isn’t sure why. “I know,” she says. “You texted me.”

“Oh,” Azzi says. Then, “What did I say?”

“Um,” Paige says, and then her video is paused. “Hang on. You said ‘i made it’ and then ‘Olympics baby’ and then ‘can alcohol absorb through your skin?’ and then there were a bunch of letters.”

“Oh,” Azzi says again. “What did you say?”

Paige’s face returns to the camera once more, her smile fonder than usual, the planes of her face carved out soft in the mellow light. “I knew you’d make it.”

Azzi thinks that if it’s possible to be crushed by sheer affection, she’s feeling it now, a building pressure in her chest that pulls her accelerating heartbeat back to ground level.

“Thank you.” Now that she’s calmer, she notices for the first time how Paige’s eyes are fluttering closed, how her voice is sleep-rough, and she feels a pang of guilt. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Paige says, clearly lying. “I couldn't sleep anyway.”

“Liar.” There’s that soft, tired laugh again, and the phone shifts to a view of the ceiling again, like Paige has set it down beside her. Azzi can hear the sound of her breathing, each breath slipping slowly into a steady rhythm.

“S’Okay,” Paige mumbles. “I like the sound of your voice.” 

This is enough to stun Azzi back into silence. Her brain feels slippery from how much she’s had to drink, the hot pink lighting of the club she had been in still dancing across her feet, a glimmering haze over her field of vision. She’s so aware, all of a sudden, of how cold the night air is, biting into exposed skin, how tightly the headband of the bunny ears is pressing into her scalp, of the hair falling over her forehead-  of how much love is piling up inside her, scrubbing her raw and threatening to drown her under its weight. 

If Paige liked the sound of her voice, Azzi would read her a novel, would read her a dictionary, would write her a new love letter every morning and recite it to her every night. 

As it is, she whispers into the phone, “Goodnight, Paige,” and lets herself wait five full seconds before hanging it back up.  

That night Azzi crashes on the sofa of a hotel suite she could have never afforded by herself, legs too wobbly to make it to a bed. She doesn’t sleep, she just lies there, the bright glow of her phone across her face the only light in the dark room, and she drafts drunken texts and deletes them, writing out confessions she’ll never send. 

Are you still awake? She writes to Paige, and deletes it.

Good luck tomorrow.

Recently, you’ve been in all of my dreams. Do you think that means something? 

I wish you had been here today. 

In a hazy space of her brain, it starts to register to Azzi that this is possibly a little bit embarrassing. She doesn’t feel embarrassed- she feels giddy in a way she hasn’t for years, caught up in the middle-school thrill of having a crush, something that reminds her of drafts of love letters on pink stationary, of leaving gifts in lockers and roses on desks. It’s the indulgent happiness of allowing herself to get caught up in the push and pull before a relationship, both of them on edge, neither willing to slip first. 

It’s enough, she tells herself. For now, it’s enough. They’ll have time. 

The sun is just beginning to set when Azzi walks back to her apartment days later, a plastic bag of groceries crinkling in one hand, the other holding Paige’s hand. The heat is starting to return after a long winter, and there’s sweat collecting between their hands, but neither one moves to disentangle their fingers. 

“You don’t have a fucking clue,” Paige is saying heatedly, and Azzi scoffs but doesn’t interrupt. “You have no idea how much I’ve suffered because of this. It’s the worst possible-”

“Not the worst,” Azzi interjects. “I’ll take a lot but I won’t let you lie to me right now-” 

“It is the worst, it’s the laziest way out, it never makes sense, it creates so many plot holes-”

“I think it’s fun and creative,” Azzi says, and passes the bag of groceries to Paige, who takes them unquestioningly, as Azzi fumbles one-handed with the lock. “And the plot holes wouldn’t exist if you didn’t think about them.”

“That’s the target audience,” Paige says grimly, as Azzi pulls her into her apartment via their connected hands. “People who don’t think. Like you.”

“Time travel is an old, respected, trope,” Azzi says. “Just because you don’t understand it-”

“Boo!” Paige says, setting the bag of groceries onto the counter. She starts unloading them without Azzi asking her to, taking out the eggs to place them into the fridge, not even pausing in the flow of conversation. “There’s nothing to understand, because it sucks.”

“Not enough things getting blown up for you?” Azzi asks snidely, and pulls out a cardboard pink box, wrapped with matching pink ribbon before Paige can respond. “Are you ready for your present?”

Paige comes to stand beside her, reaching out a hand to pull at the strings of ribbon and pouting when Azzi slaps it away. “I don’t know why you had to make me stand outside the bakery. It’s not like I can’t guess it’s a cake.”

“Hush,” Azzi says. “As long as it’s not open, it could be anything.”

They had only had Valentine’s Day cakes available at the bakery, so when Paige opens the box, it’s to a mess of pink and red frosting over a small heart-shaped cake. In cursive script over the top, white lettering reads ‘C U @ O.V.’

“They were charging per letter,” Azzi says. “O.V.  stands for-”

“Olympic Village,” Paige says, grinning. “I get it. I love it.” 

Azzi beams at her. Paige had cleared the team selections for the national team yesterday, when she had still been away for a game. She had made it back last night, the pair of them reuniting for a private celebration that left bruises that ached pleasantly along Azzi’s hips, her chest, her thighs. 

“Here,” Paige says, in a suspiciously innocuous tone. “Taste.”

Azzi narrows her eyes. “What-”

Paige runs her finger through the icing as Azzi starts talking and then sticks her finger into Azzi’s open mouth. 

Azzi clamps her teeth down around the finger immediately, glaring at Paige. She’s hoping the look in her eyes communicates something like a threat, like I could bite through your finger like a carrot right now and not holy shit, I want to eat you out. It’s always so hard to figure out the line between the two with Paige.

Paige tries to pull her finger away, teasingly, and her eyes widen as Azzi bites down a little harder. 

“Hang on,” she says, her wrist falling a little limp. “I’m trying to figure out if this is turning me on or not.”

Giving in is against Azzi’s principles but this is beginning to seem torturous, so she lets her mouth close, keeping her teeth back to let her lips close gently over the first knuckle. Paige makes a strangled noise and it feels like victory. 

“Yeah. Definitely turned on,” she says decisively. 

Azzi can’t speak, just swirls her tongue around the pad of her finger, tastes sugar and strawberries, lets it dissolve in her mouth, relishes in the way Paige’s lips tug up in exasperated acceptance.

She’s thinking of abandoning the cake entirely and starting up those celebrations over again, or maybe just dropping to her knees in the kitchen, when the doorbell rings. 

“Ugh,” Azzi says, pulling away reluctantly, turning toward the door. 

She’s stopped by the firm grasp of Paige’s hand around her jaw, bringing Azzi’s face back to her own. Azzi thinks about complaining about the hand Paige’s using to do it, feeling her own spit touching her cheek, sticky and off-putting and gripping hard enough to bruise.

But Paige’s lips are already on her, tongue slipping into Azzi’s mouth with a proprietary confidence that makes Azzi’s hands clench tight around the edge of the countertop, keeping her on her feet. 

The doorbell rings again, and Paige pulls away with a sigh and a wet parting of mouths, Azzi’s eyes fluttering back open in slight shock. 

Paige is watching her lips, looking all too pleased with herself. “Yum,” she says, letting go of Azzi’s jaw with a pat on the cheek and a wink. “Strawberry.”

The doorbell rings for a third time, aggressive in how long it lasts, like the person outside is leaning on it, impatient.

Paige’s eyebrow twitches slightly at the noise but she steps fully away from Azzi, looking entirely regretful at her own actions. “Tell them to go away” her eyes flicking down to Azzi’s lips meaningfully. 

“Stop saying words,” Azzi says, flustered beyond measure, and tries not to rush to the door in order to do exactly as told.

She opens the door, flushed and still half-laughing, the remnants of a smile on her face fading away as she sees Jayden outside her apartment, still in that ugly fucking coat, the human personification of a cockblock.

“Yes?” Azzi asks, leaning against the door. She doesn’t want Jayden taking a step inside. She doesn’t want Jayden here at all, encroaching on a moment Azzi was enjoying, his presence a reminder of a truth Azzi would rather forget. She very selfishly hopes Paige doesn’t see him. She wants Paige to forget about Jayden all together, forget that two of them had ever been together for a reason that wasn’t so they could watch old science fiction and argue about director’s cuts. 

“Just thought I’d drop by,” Jayden says. “You’re not going to let me in?”

“I’m a little busy,” Azzi says coolly. “You should really text first.” 

“Busy?” He’s smiling a condescending little smile that makes Azzi’s eyebrow twitch. “You aren’t at practice?”

“I’m hanging out with my girlfriend.” If she places more emphasis than is strictly necessary on the last word- well. 

If Jayden is surprised to hear this, he covers for it well, only a slight blotchy red flush to his cheeks giving away a reaction. “I thought- I heard that you’d broken up?”

“Been reading a lot of tabloids recently?” Azzi drawls, letting her head fall to rest on her door frame. 

“You haven’t brought her around for dinner,” Jayden counters, still mostly placid. “I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“We’ve both been busy,” Azzi says, eyes narrowed. “It’s the season for it.”

Jayden smiles a little wider and it feels like an accusation. “I’m sure my dad would love to meet her.”

They will never find your body, Azzi says with her eyes. 

With her mouth she says, “We’ll see you guys Wednesday.”

Once the articles had come out, it had become impossible to ignore Geno’s hints about meeting her new girlfriend. Azzi hadn’t expected to be able to avoid it for long but she had gotten away with it for longer than she expected.

She didn’t know how she felt about the dinner now that it had arrived. Somewhere inside her, something was screaming that this was too serious, too much, too fast. That the unsteady foundation of their little show couldn’t hold up under any more serious inspection. Another part was screaming that Azzi hadn’t been acting for a long time. 

A month and a half had passed easily under the guise of their fake relationship. A month and a half, so much time and almost none at all. 

At no point during those forty-five days had she prepared herself for seeing Paige waiting in her apartment for her to finish getting ready, complaining on Azzi’s terrible couch, wearing a white sweater, the thick knitted pattern against the pale of her skin. 

She’s used to seeing Paige in sharp angles and hard muscles. Like this she looks almost soft. Huggable.

“I bet you’re just a natural-born parent pleaser, aren’t you?” Azzi says, eyeing the gentle cling of the fabric to her shoulders. 

“What are you ever talking about?” Paige responds. “Come on, I brought some flowers and they’re going to wilt if we don’t hurry.”

“Flowers,” Azzi says, to herself, as Paige takes her hand and drags her along. “Of course she brought flowers.” 

“Listen,” Azzi says, once the two of them are in the elevator heading down to the main floor. “We need to bring our best game tonight.”

Paige does not seem to be listening, her eyebrows a little furrowed as she responds to a text on her phone. Azzi can feel her blood pressure spike. 

“Paige,” she says, and Paige’s head lifts immediately, the look she sends Azzi endearingly nervous. “As far as I’m concerned, this is a competition,” Azzi continues, very seriously. “And if I lose to Jayden of all people, I’m killing you and then myself.”

Paige slides her phone into her back pocket as the elevator doors open, and takes Azzi’s hand again instead, pulling them both towards where her car is parked. Her thumb is tracing small circles over the back of Azzi’s palm, a motion that she assumes is meant to be calming. Insultingly, it works, the tense slope of Azzi’s shoulders relaxing into a less rigid line. 

“It’s fine,” Paige says. “I’m sure we’ll nail it.”

“That’s a lot of baseless confidence,” Azzi says. “Especially for someone who can’t lie.”

Paige only sends her that familiar exasperated look as she starts the car, like she can see right through Azzi’s bullshit but likes her anyway. Azzi smiles back, a little helpless in the face of that familiar affection.

By the time they arrive at Geno's house, the effect has worn off, and Azzi is a stretched out ball of nerves all over again, her leg bouncing against the floor of the car so fast it’s nearly vibrating. 

“Seriously,” Azzi says again, grabbing onto Paige’s sleeve as she moves to open the car door, the two of them still parked in Geno’s driveway. “If they ask any serious questions, I’ll take it. You just- tell the truth unless absolutely necessary.”

“I’m not that bad at lying,” Paige complains, but Azzi isn’t amused, her hand still tightly gripping Paige’s sleeve.

“Hey,” Paige says, a little softer, and extricates her sleeve from Azzi’s grip, just to replace it with her own hand. She lifts Azzi’s hand up, and presses her lips to the knobby bone at Azzi’s wrist, looking back up at Azzi with a smile. “Relax. It’ll be fine.”

Azzi tries to maintain a scowl, but her hand untenses in Paige’s grip, against her will and she gives in.

“Fine,” she says, ungracious but accepting. “But if this all goes wrong, the murder-suicide is still in the plans.”

“Like you could kill me,” Paige snorts, and Azzi makes a sharp dissatisfied noise as they both finally exit the car, a large wrapped bouquet of orchids in Paige’s arms.

“I so could.”

“Maybe if I let you,” Paige says.

“Paige, please you would let me do anything to you.”

“Oh my god Azzi! We are just about to go inside, and you insist I’m the vulgar one” Paige complains as she rests her head on the wheel before they get interrupted.

“I thought I heard yelling,” the old man says, the sharp clean lines of her white haircut unforgiving against the bright light shining from behind her, the doorway lit up against the darkness of the night sky. “Azzi, is the impression you want to make on your guest?”

“Sorry,” Paige says instantly as Azzi scowls, her head bowed.

Geno’s expression changes so fast it’s almost comical, a beaming smile overtaking the thin, wrinkled face as she turns to Paige.

“No, no,” she says dismissively. “Don’t apologize. I know an Azzi antic when I see one. It’s good to meet you. Please, come inside.”

“She started it,” Azzi mutters, only a little sullen as the two of them enter the large house, the foyer illuminated in white by bright lights set into the high ceiling. Her breath leaves her with an ‘oof’ as Paige elbows her gut in silent response, smirking at the betrayed look Azzi sends her.

“Nonsense,” says Geno, who has apparently decided to miss that entire interaction. “Here, let me take your jackets.”

“It’s alright,” Paige says quickly, and smiles that white smile again and Azzi is suddenly struck by the image of a newspaper ad, ‘Perfect Girlfriend’ scrawled in large expansive lettering over the top. $9.99 a month. 

“I brought flowers,” Paige says, doing nothing to dispel the image, and holds out the bouquet. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Oh,” Geno says, and takes the offered flowers. “These are lovely, thank you.”

Azzi is expecting Geno to return to the kitchen to put away the flowers, leaving her some time with Paige in the hall before the trial begins, but the man just lingers, watching Paige hang up first her jacket, and then turn to Azzi for her. 

“You’re so polite,” Geno croons in a voice that Azzi considers unseemly for a man of his age. “Not at all like the last girl Azzi brought home.”

Both Azzi and Paige freeze, Azzi in the middle of handing her jacket off to Paige. 

“I was fifteen,” Azzi splutters, blood rushing to her face. She feels hotter now than she ever did with the jacket on.

Paige places the hanger with Azzi’s jacket into the closet, her voice seemingly casual, but Azzi can hear the glimmer of laughter underneath her words. “Oh, really? What happened?”

“What didn’t?” Geno sighs dramatically, leading them into the kitchen where Jayden is seated at the stools lining the kitchen island, slicing up cucumbers for the salad. “Never said thank you or please, stared at the wall the entire night. She wouldn’t have brought flowers. Actually, I think she stole my vase.”

“She did not,” Azzi says, and then pauses. “She probably didn't.” She amends.

“Do you see?” Geno says, and Paige nods. Azzi takes the opportunity the instant the older man turns her back to elbow Paige, returning the favour from earlier with a bright smile on her face as she drives her elbow into Paige’s stomach. 

Paige wheezes and manages to disguise it as a cough when Geno turns back around. The wide table is already set, and the four of them start to settle around it, Jayden bringing over the salad, surprisingly quiet. 

They manage to make it to the end of dessert without incident.

“It’s alright,” Geno is saying graciously, now empty bowls sitting in front of them. “Now is the time to make mistakes. Around your age, I got engaged to this lovely young woman. Turned out, she was already married.”

  Paige gasps and Azzi thinks about banging her head on the table. 

“Not this story again,” Jayden says glumly. “Please.”

“She was married,” Geno says, and pauses for dramatic effect. “To an Earl. In England.”

Jayden and Azzi groan in unison. Paige, damn her, seems genuinely interested, her mouth dropping.

“No,” she says, hushed. “And you had no idea?”

“None,” Geno says, puffed up with the pleasure of a willing listener. Both Jayden and Azzi exchange long-suffering looks over the dinner table, and for a moment it feels normal, for the two of them to be complaining light-heartedly as the old man relays a story both have already heard too many times. Then Jayden’s eyes cut to the side, where Azzi’s hand is resting next to Paige’s on the dinner table, their pinkies interlocked. His expression hardens, leaving Azzi blinking. 

“So, how did you two meet?” He asks loudly, cutting off a question Paige had been asking. Geno frowns at the interruption, but also turns to the two of them, looking between expectantly. 

“We skate at the same rink,” Azzi says, taking a careful sip of water. “We ran into each other all the time. Practice times overlapped sometimes.”

“Ah, go on,” Geno says, looking unfortunately engrossed. “Tell us the details.”

Azzi forces a little laugh, her hand on the glass tightening. She’s talking to Geno but she can feel Jayden’s eyes on her, stinging wherever they reach.

“It’s nothing interesting,” she says. “We got along, I asked her out, we went to dinner.” 

“Ah,” Geno says, lying back in his chair a little. “How unromantic.”

“It’s still pretty new,” Azzi says. She thinks she might be starting to sweat.

As if on cue, Paige’s hand wraps around her fully, squeezing a little before letting go. 

“Azzi is answering all the questions,” Jayden says, a sharp smile directed at the two of them. “We could at least let the paige talk a little.”

Azzi thinks about propelling herself over the table, and slamming her fist into that smug little face. It’s a comforting image, if nothing else.

“Hm?” Geno says, looking between them. “How did you meet Azzi, Paige? What did you think?”

“I don’t-” Azzi starts, her voice a little high with nerves, but Paige just squeezes her wrist again, gently. 

“I thought she was beautiful,” Paige says, before Azzi can start to panic. She smiles at Azzi and adds, “And very talented, of course. Maybe a little sharp around the edges, but it was part of the appeal. And I knew I had to talk to her that day, or I’d regret it forever.”

Azzi’s face feels burning hot. She thinks it’s probably a good thing Paige isn’t holding her hand anymore, because her palms feel clammy.

“What?” She asks and her voice sounds shaky in her ears. 

“That’s romantic,” Geno says, nodding. She says something else and Azzi can hear Jayden’s voice, but it’s all faded a little to background noise, as she stares full-on at Paige’s profile, turned away from to address a comment Geno made, and Azzi feels like her heart is going burst entirely out of her chest.

“I’m going to go take a breath,” she says abruptly, standing up. “Outside. Be right back.”

She can feel everyone staring at her, but at this point, she’s pretty sure her face can’t get any more red than it already is. 

She steps out into the night, the glow of the porch light dancing across the wooden slats at her feet. It’s happening again, she thinks, where just as soon as she’s starting to feel like she’s got everything under control, scheduled neatly into her calendar, Paige comes along with that honest little smile and her dimples flashing and Azzi starts to feel like she’s swirling apart again. 

Footsteps sound behind her, and Azzi turns, mostly expecting to see Paige or maybe Geno, come out to fetch her again.

“Hey,” Jayden says, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He looks uncomfortable, standing just outside the door, shorter than Azzi remembers him being. 

He doesn’t say anything at all, just raises an eyebrow, leaning back to brace his elbows on the porch fence behind him. 

“You guys make a good couple,” Jayden says finally. 

Something flutters in Azzi’s chest. “What?”

“You look right together,” she says, and motions with hi hands. “You fit.”

Azzi can’t think of anything to say. Oh God, it’s over, she thinks, with a burst of relief. And then again, with an overwhelming panic. It’s over. 

“I-” Jayden rubs at the back of his neck, and Azzi just stares. “I’ve been a little overbearing, I guess.”

“Overbearing?” Azzi repeats scathingly. “You mean the blackmailing me into hanging out with you?”

Jayden seems like he’s trying to put on a good show of repentance. “I just, I didn’t want to lose, so I kept pushing.” 

Azzi tilts her head back and stares at the sky. A month and a half of effort, gone in two minutes. What, her mind whispers to her, do we do now? A bright star twinkles down at her unhelpfully.

“Whatever,” she mumbles out loud and pushes her way past Jayden back into the house. 

Azzi returns to the dining room and starts clearing the table without being asked. She stands in the kitchen and doesn’t wash a single plate, just stares at the delicate china Geno had brought out specially for meeting Azzi’s girlfriend and thinks about how unfair and awful life is. Bitterness is creeping up her throat, long tendrils threatening to choke her out entirely.

Paige comes to meet her in the kitchen after a few minutes, her arms wrapping around Azzi, enfolding her entirely as her chin comes to rest over Azzi’s shoulder. 

“Hi,” she says.

It’s always been in Azzi’s nature to poke at barely formed scabs, ripping her cuts open before they’ve had a chance to heal. She doesn’t pull away from Paige’s arms. 

“Hi,” Azzi whispers, turning her head to plant a small, clumsy kiss to her forehead. 

Paige pulls away, and stands beside Azzi instead, her back leaning against the edge of the counter. “You good?”

Azzi grins, and swallows down the acrid taste at the back of her tongue. “Are you? I thought you were a bad liar, what was all of that back there?”

Paige flushes slightly, red creeping up her neck. Her eyes leave Azzi’s to look at the plate in her hands instead. “All that hanging out with you has made me a worse person, probably.”

Azzi sets the plate down and pretends to swoon dramatically into Paige’s chest, who rolls her eyes, but grabs her arms anyway, steadying her.

“Oh no,” she warbles piteously, fluttering her eyelashes. “What will your teammates think of me, now that I’ve tarnished their precious golden girl?”

Paige reaches up and pinches Azzi’s nose. “Gold doesn’t tarnish,” she says, ignoring Azzi’s nasally protests.

Azzi pulls away and pouts, rubbing at her nose. “I’m just a special influence, Paige.”

“You’re a special something, for sure,” Paige says dryly.

Azzi makes a face at her, and turns back to the dirty dishes, still waiting for her.

“Are you alright?” Paige’s voice asks again from behind her. “I saw Jayden follow you out. I didn’t want to step in. What did he say?”

“Oh, you know,” Azzi says feebly. She gives up, and turns on the warm water, starts scrubbing the dishes. “I’ll tell you later,” she says to Paige. 

She wonders, not for the first time, if Paige’s got a superpower that lets her know how far Azzi can be pushed at any particular moment, because she doesn’t say anything else. She just nudges Azzi a little to the side with one heavy hip, until both of them are standing side by side, washing dishes in the silent kitchen. 

A clock in Azzi’s head is keeping time in the car ride home, tick-tick-ticking away the moments before they’re back and Azzi has to confess. It’s over, she thinks again. It was always going to be over, she reminds herself, but it doesn’t help. Even if she keeps this quiet, the two months will pass.

Azzi’s dreams have always been so huge but recently they’ve started to seem so small. Not the far away pressure of a medal around her neck, only the image of a kitchen in the early afternoon, warm hands around her waist, gentle lips on her. A breakfast set out for two. She isn’t sure what she’ll do if that slips away again.

“Paige,” she says when the car finally stops in front of her apartment. “Guess what?”

There’s a terrible sort of lingering stillness in the car, like Paige can sense that something is wrong.

“Jayden said we were a cute couple,” Azzi says, as casually as she can manage. She’s watching Paige’s face carefully, searching for a reaction, but she can’t tell if her expression really changes or if Azzi’s just seeing what she wants to see. “I think she’s going to back off. So we’re good now.” 

“Oh.” Paige says. And that’s that. 

She expects, despite herself, for Paige to follow her out of the car, maybe just to talk, maybe to say a goodbye. 

She hasn’t even made it into the building before she hears the car start to move, driving off. 

Sure enough, when she turns around, the street is empty.

Because the world is conspiring against her, the elevator is out of service.

 Azzi climbs up five flights of stairs slowly, thinking about what she’s going to do now. The stairwell is abandoned this late at night, everybody else in the building already asleep. 

She had known this was going to happen. She had planned for this happening. Their relationship had come with a deadline and she had known it was eventually going to run out. She had made a plan, and the plan was fucked now because Paige had said not a single thing when Azzi had told her they could end their fake relationship, hadn’t even stuck around to watch her leave.

“If she doesn’t even want to be friends,” she says to a bleary-eyed Kaitlyn, standing on her doormat. “What am I supposed to do then?” 

Kaitlyn isn’t wearing any pants, and her eyes are halfway to closing before Azzi’s even finished her sentence.

“Hang on,” she says, and turns her head to the side to yawn wide, jaw cracking. “Okay, come on.” Ushering Azzi back into her own apartment.

Inside her apartment, Kaitlyn hears her out, splayed out on Azzi’s floor, nodding sleepily as Azzi explains.

“This problem is stupid,” Kaitlyn says, like she always does. Azzi is lying on her couch, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling again. It really is such an ugly ceiling. 

“Tomorrow,” Kaitlyn is saying. “Just talk to her.”

“But-” Azzi starts and Kaitlyn cuts her off. 

“If she really doesn’t want to be friends at all, I’ll call all the magazines I can think of and tell them she’s really bad in bed or something.”

Azzi pauses and contemplates this. “Promise?” She asks eventually, and Kaitlyn groans where her face is half-mashed into the floor. 

“We can do it together,” she promises. 

“Ugh,” Azzi says, and rolls over on her couch and gives in to sleep. If she’s going to cry, she tells herself, might as well do it tomorrow.

When she wakes up, it’s not to the shrill piercing noise of her alarm, but to the equally shrill and piercing sound of her phone ringing. She’s still on her couch, and the apartment is still dark, the sun not yet risen. It could only have been a few hours since she got home. The ringing cuts off, and then starts up again.

“Azzi,” Kaitlyn says warningly, her eyes still closed, her face still buried in Azzi’s carpet. “Either you pick up that fucking phone, or I’m going to shove it so far up your ass, you’ll feel it ringing in your throat.”

Azzi leans off the couch to pick up the phone, rubbing the sleep crust out of her eyes.

“Hello?” she says into the phone, not bothering to check the caller ID, more irritable than normal.

“Azzi?” Paige’s voice says over the phone, and it’s so unexpected that Azzi almost misses that she’d said her first name.

“Paige?” She asks, wide-awake now.

“Can you let me in?” Paige asks. “To the apartment building, I need to-”

“Yeah,” Azzi says, stumbling over to where the buzzer sits. She presses. “What are you- Paige?” The line’s gone dead. 

“Oh my God,” Azzi says, staring at the phone in her hands. Her phone log is open in front of her, confirming that it hadn’t been some kind of longing-induced dream. “Oh my God,” she repeats.

“What’s happening?” Kaitlyn asks from behind her. She hasn’t moved at all, as far as Azzi can tell. If she wasn’t speaking, Azzi would worry that she was dead.

“You need to get out,” Azzi says, still staring at her phone in disbelief. She looks over and Kaitlyn is still unmoving. “You have to get out,” she says again, running over to pull Kaitlyn up and out of her carpet.

“You are-” Kaitlyn scowls as Azzi tries to push her out the door with both hands at her back. “You are ungrateful, that’s what.”

“I’ll buy you dinner,” Azzi says desperately. “Anything, seriously, but you have to get out.”

“Hm,” Kaitlyn says, ignoring Azzi’s attempts to throw her bodily at the door. “Alright. If you insist.”

Just before the door closes behind Kaitlyn, Azzi hears her whistle. “Hey Paige,” she hears Kaitlyn call cheerfully, just outside her door and before Azzi’s had the time to process what that means, someone is knocking at her door. 

When she opens it to see Paige, she starts to wish that she had spent her time brushing her hair instead of kicking Kaitlyn out. Or maybe her teeth. 

Her only consolation is that Paige looks equally haggard, hair even messier than usual, her eyes looking wild as she takes Azzi in, her chest heaving with exertion.

“One more date,” Paige says. She’s breathing hard. “Rule number four. You still- We still have one more.”

Azzi’s eyes couldn’t open any wider if they tried. A painful hope is springing up in her chest, pushing against her ribcage until it aches. “Did you run all the way up here?” She manages to ask, her head still in a daze.

“Your- fuck-” Paige is still panting, bracing her hand against the doorframe, but she laughs, breathless and a little nervous. “Your elevator was broken.”

Azzi can’t tell if she wants to laugh with her or cry. “I live on the fifth floor,” she says, instead of doing either.

“I just needed to tell you,” Paige says, straightening up fully and Azzi thinks that she looks dazed too. “I had to tell you-”

It’s all Azzi can take, all she needs to hear, her heart hammering in her chest. “Wait, stop!”

Paige is staring at her, and it’s an awful expression on her face, one that Azzi’s never wanted to see, like something is falling apart in front of her. 

Azzi doesn’t bother trying to explain any further. Azzi grabs Paige’s face and brings their lips together, so hard it hurts. 

Paige makes a sound against Azzi’s lips as their teeth knock together, her pointy canines digging into Azzi’s lower lip.

“Okay,” she says, pulling back. She’s laughing again, the soft puff of air hitting Azzi’s skin. “Okay.”

She cups Azzi’s face in one hand, hardened calluses meeting soft skin and gently, so gently, tugs her back in, smiling against Azzi’s mouth. 

This kiss is easier, in that it tastes less like blood. Paige’s lips are sweet, soft and plump and red, and she’s hesitant in a way Azzi’s never known her to be before, as she licks over her bottom lip, pulls Azzi even closer with a hand on her waist. Until they’re pressed up tight together, one of Azzi’s hands bruising her shoulder, the other tight on the back of her neck. Until Azzi’s tongue is in her mouth, tasting coffee and mint, feeling Paige’s body shudder against her, her hand opening and then closing tight around Azzi’s waist.

When they pull away, Azzi keeps one hand on her sleeve.

“I like you,” she says defensively, and Paige looks like the breath in her lungs has left her all at once. “I like your face. I like your arms. I like it when you wake up before me and you get ready without turning the lights on so you don’t wake me up. I like it when you carry my bags without me asking even though I’m a professional athlete and carrying heavy things is like, 45% of my life. I like the way you put your hand on my thigh when you’re driving. I like that you have piles of tickets in your car and I like that you call your mom every Sunday-”

“I get it.” Paige says, looking mortified. 

“Do you?” Azzi says. “Because, just so you know, you are completely ruining my six year plan.” 

“Okay,” Paige says, her voice muffled from where she’s covered her face with her hands. “Maybe I don’t get it.” 

“My six year plan,” Azzi wails. “You aren’t supposed to confess until the second year.”

Paige’s hands lower as she considers this. It’s a testament to how well Paige knows her, maybe, that she manages to piece together what’s happening, regardless of how objectively batshit it is.

“Do you want me to wait a year?” She asks, grinning again. Her ears are bright red.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Azzi says, “You are ruining my life. Just- hang on. I need to show you something.”

Azzi’s got one hand on Paige’s wrist, leading her into her apartment, and Paige comes easily, like she has nowhere else to be. Azzi swallows down the lump in her throat, and takes them both to her bedroom, opening up drawers until she finds the notebook she’s looking for, passing it over to Paige who takes it, confused.

Those furrowed lines between her eyebrows only deepen as she opens the book, scanning down a long page covered in Azzi’s handwriting.

“Every time you did something that made me think I loved you, I wrote it down,” Azzi says, her eyes burning holes in her stupid worn out carpet. “So I wouldn’t say it out loud.”

Silence settles over the two of them like a heavy blanket, stifling and hot. Azzi lets it sit, doesn’t dare to move, holds her breath, until she can’t take it anymore and looks up. 

“Are you crying? ” She asks, her eyes widening. 

“I’m going to kill you,” Paige snaps, not even bothering to wipe away the tears resting in the corners of her eyes, poised to fall. She’s still looking through the second page. “Why would you- why wouldn’t you say any of this before?”

“I don’t know!” Azzi says, slightly alarmed by the tears that are now fully rolling down Paige’s cheekbones. “Please don’t cry. It makes me feel icky.”

“You stupid- God, I don’t even have a word for you right now,” Paige tells her. “There are- you’ve written pages in here.”

“I only started writing in it about a few weeks ago,” Azzi says helpfully. “Otherwise I would have more.”

“At no point,” Paige asks incredulously, “did it occur to you that maybe it would be easier if you just said these things to me?”

Azzi frowns. “I didn’t know if you- you know. Are you?”

“Obviously I’m in love with you,” Paige says, and Azzi feels like all the strings holding her up have been cut at once. “Who would agree to this whole fake-dating thing if they weren’t?”

Azzi thinks that that is almost insulting, but she doesn’t have it in her to feel offended, just feels a bone-melting relief, sagging against her bedroom wall. “You said you couldn’t think of a better solution.”

“There is always a better solution,” Paige tells her, and she’s laughing as she says it, finally wiping her wet eyes, which makes Azzi laugh with her. 

“Sorry,” Azzi says, and because she’s pretty sure she’s allowed to, she presses her hands to Paige’s cheeks, and kisses the divot right between her eyebrows. “Sorry,” she repeats. 

Paige puts her hands up to Azzi’s face, and they must look ridiculous, both of them holding the other’s face between their palms, grinning like children.

“Azzi,” Paige says, very seriously. “Do you want to be my-”

“Agh!” Azzi cries, and tackles Paige onto her bed. Paige groans as she falls heavily onto Azzi’s covers, her hands flying up to Azzi’s wrists, Azzi’s hands on her chest, Azzi’s knees digging into the mattress on either side of her thighs. 

“You already ruined my six-year plan,” Azzi says, pressing down on Paige’s chest. She pretends that she is not effectively groping Paige’s tits right now, but she’s not sure if she’s fooling anyone. “Just let me do the asking.”

 Paige’s hands move from Azzi’s wrists to her shoulders, and she pulls Azzi down towards her, rolling them both over, a hand cradling the back of Azzi’s head. She looks down at Azzi from where she’s straddling her thighs and grins at the flustered expression on Azzi’s face.

“You asked for the fake relationship,” she reminds Azzi. “It’s my turn.”

“It’s not a competition,” Azzi lies. “And fake isn’t equal to real. That was more like a business pitch.” 

Paige only smiles at her, sharp and knowing, and that wasn’t what Azzi had wanted at all because she can feel her slick stir at the sight. 

“It was all business to you?” Paige asks, bending over Azzi, a mocking tilt to her lips, to the arch of her eyebrow. “Really?”

Azzi opens her mouth to respond, but Paige’s already got her mouth on Azzi’s skin, her tongue darting out at the sensitive spot under Azzi’s ear until she’s got Azzi arching up underneath her with a strangled cry, grinding against Paige’s thigh to try to get some friction. Paige’s hands are pushing her shirt up, fingers rough against her abdomen, a sharp contrast to the soft kisses she’s leaving down Azzi’s neck.

Azzi has the sudden, vivid thought that if she comes just from this, she’ll never forgive herself. 

Then Paige’s mouth is at the creases of her thighs, teeth digging in just a little into where the flesh is softest, and Azzi stops thinking all together. 

Once the sweat and cum are drying on their stomachs, Paige looks up at her, and Azzi thinks that she’s lost the battle and the war. 

She moves in for a kiss, but Azzi pushes her face away with one hand, the other draped over her eyes, too jittery for her own good. 

“I’m not going to lick my own cum out of your mouth.”

She can feel Paige twitch against Azzi’s thigh at that and Azzi lifts her arm to squint at her, levels her with the best unimpressed glare that she can manage with her body still feeling so jelly-like and her heart still beating so fast. “Really?”

Paige just laughs, and pulls Azzi’s hands away and to the side, so she can look her straight in the face, can see her own expression reflected back in Azzi’s eyes- a little nervous, but grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. She places a gentle kiss on the soft skin of Azzi’s cheek.

“Go on, then,” Azzi says, the glumness in her voice offset by the brightness of her eyes as she looks up at Paige. “I know when I’m beaten.”

“Azzi,” Paige starts. She stops, and tries again. “Azzi.”

The Azzi in question groans at the sound of her name, and Paige keeps her hands around her wrists.

“Azzi, I love you,” she says, and Azzi huffs, the warm air hitting Paige’s chin. “I’ve loved you for a while now, I think.”

She lets go of Azzi’s wrists, moves her hands to cradle Azzi’s face instead. Azzi knows how she must be feeling, because she’s feeling it too. Her throat feels scratchy, the culmination of so much longing suddenly real and staring her dead in the eyes, her eyelashes casting a shadow over her cheeks. It’s almost overwhelming. 

“Be my real girlfriend, okay?” Paige finishes lamely, sweeping Azzi’s hair out of her face, the tips of her ears burning hot.

“That was terrible,” Azzi says, but her voice sounds suspiciously wet. “Go brush your teeth so we can kiss properly.”

Azzi makes them both breakfast, and burns the toast when Paige distracts her halfway through. She doesn’t mind, the blackened bits can be scraped off, and the eggs still taste good. 

She’s expecting the doorbell, when it comes. Honestly, she’s impressed they managed to hold off so long. 

“How’s it going?” Kaitlyn says in Azzi’s doorway, attempting to sound casual, while leaning around Azzi’s body to get a glimpse inside. 

“Kind of early for a visit,” Azzi says, but Caroline is already pressing her way inside, curiosity blatantly etched on her features. 

“It’s fine,” Kaitlyn says, also stepping inside. Azzi sighs and moves to the side. 

“So, why don’t you want to real-date Azzi, huh?” Caroline is asking, clearly trying to loom intimidatingly over Paige. The effect is damaged by the flowery embroidered shirt she’s wearing, short at the ruffled cuffs, cropped to her midriff.

“Stop-” Azzi starts to say, trying to pull Paige away from the two of them. 

“She has good bone structure,” Kaitlyn interrupts, her hands reaching up from behind Azzi to grab her face, smushing it between her palms. “Have you seen her bone structure?”

“You guysh are th’ worsht,” Azzi says, her face still clutched in Kaitlyn’s iron grip. She pulls, until Kaitlyn releases her, and rubs her now sore cheeks, scowling. “We already- we fixed it. Jesus.”

“We could try a shovel talk,” Kaitlyn mutters to Caroline, both of them looking slightly disappointed, and Azzi scowls harder. 

“Get out already!”

“I have actual shovels,” Caroline tells Paige as a parting statement.

“Okay?” Paige says, bewildered. She turns to Azzi once the two of them have left. “Why was she telling me about her shovels?” 

“It was probably meant to be ominous,” Azzi sighs. “Caroline is terrible at ominous.” 

“It came across a little more like she was bragging about her shovels,” Paige says.

Azzi watches Paige- her girlfriend, her mind supplies, thrilled- get her stuff together, searching for keys in the pockets of pants that had been discarded. They’ve still got practice, Azzi thinks, a little loopy. After all that, and they’ve still got practice. Azzi will show up to the rink in the evening, and see a crowd of hockey players taking up space on the rink- always too slow to clean up- and one of them will be Paige. It seems too much to process. The sun has risen outside, painting Azzi’s apartment in golden light, her ugly ceiling and her cheap carpet, and the girl in the center of it. Azzi wonders if she should tell her her shirt is inside out. 

Paige looks up to see her staring, her eyes even more blue under this lighting, and that animated flash when she smiles- bright and bold, like she's just seen something good.  

[b00tyliciousbabe]

waves

pairing: surfer!bf x THICC!male reader

summary: oh, how i need a tall, curly headed goofball…

notes: HOPE MY LOVELIES ARE DOING WELL. trying to get through my requests, but this was a personal one of mine. slowly but surely y’all! as summer is coming to an end, it was SO necessary for me to feed my hot girl delusions at least a couple more times. also, enjoy the new style i have been experimenting with!

song rec: they. - diamonds and pearls

album rec: sabrina carpenter - short n sweet (my girl sabz ate so hard with this project, i just wish it was released in early aug so she could’ve rly CONQUERED summer 2024) THEE POP PRINCESS!

brief background:

your boyfriend was raised with a silver spoon; he’d never had to work a day in his life and everything he ever wanted, he got. well, everything except you. throwing money to impress people had worked on all of his other childhood crushes, but not you, which made him all the more determined to prove to you he wasn’t just some fuck boi the media painted him out to be. his family owned the richest resort in the carribean, and had hotels in every mega city worldwide. but wherever they travelled to, your man was never too far from a beach. call it fate, but the sea would always lead you back to him. it was where he first laid eyes on you; reading a very lengthy novel as you laid on the sand, watching your friends play in the water. after their surf practice, your mutual friends introduced the two of you and you were SMITTEN - but you couldn’t show your interest too soon. he too was whipped, and didn’t take nearly as much effort to hide it, practically drooling whilst staring at you. his mates would constantly ridicule him for his dazed expression around you, and he could never hear the end of the new nickname ‘bambi boy’ you gave him because he looked so cute when he was flustered. after weeks of regular conversation and a couple walks on the beach, he officially asked to be your boyfriend and you said yes.

when it came to finally introducing you to his family, they loved you almost as much as he did. he was the youngest of six and so he got the privilege of this. his parents especially were wishing y’all would stay together. they believed you were the perfect match for their goofball of a son.

core memory sfw:

the first time he said ‘i love you’ with TRUE meaning; you were always worried that you were just one fuck away from being forgotten, but your man made sure to constantly affirm his love for you. he brought you the biggest bouquet of your favourite flowers, and stood outside in the pouring rain, playing a mixtape he’d made for you. it was genuinely a scene out of a film, he was your knight in shining armour (a hawaiian shirt and matching shorts) and it was then that you knew that you guys were endgame.

core memory nsfw:

to say your bf loves your body is an understatement. the way he’s hooked on your body, some might say it’s borderline unhealthy. he’s so handy and keeps his hands on your ass all the time. whether it’s a spank, watching it jiggle as you walk away from him, or a full on grip as his pulls you onto his dick, he’s a man that would gladly die between your cheeks. one time during dinner you wore a wrap skirt paired with a tank top, paired with a thong that was peeping out enough to make your man’s eyes pop out of his head like a cartoon character. as his jaw dropped, practically salivating at the sight of your body moving closer to him, you picked it up and giggled, stroking his chin endearingly. for the entire meal he was practically sat right next to you, breathing in your luscious skin. ‘boy, you better calm down, we have company.’ you giggled. ‘fuck bby, how can you say that when you look good enough for me to eat?’ he whispered into your ear, trying not to bring too much attention. before you knew it you were face down, ass up and your thong was pulled to the side, as he used it as a pseudo leash keeping your pussy bouncing on his cock.

your favourite thing about him: his oddball nature.

as much as it can annoy you that he’s always cracking jokes, leaving no room for respite, your bf never fails to bring joy to your life. as the life of the party he’s always bringing that much needed energy to the dull world of his mostly corporate family. whether it be seeing you hollering at some unhinged thing he’d said, or watching him (ironically) fuck the smile onto your lips, you can tell that comedy is who he is, and you wouldn’t change your weirdo for anything.

his favourite thing about you: how artistic you are.

almost impossibly, it makes your boyfriend fall in love with you even more seeing your creativity flourish. you’re always making him jewellery out of the shells and stones you find. he loves to wear them, it gets you going when you see the necklace you made for him swing back and forth as he fucks into you. or when you feel the cold of his rings and bracelet on your waist as he holds you in position to fuck you even harder. he’s so proud of you.

his insta post: mostly just him showing off his good looks (we love a cocky man around here) and his beach flix.

surfer!bf my face is his favourite seat.

y/n: that big dick is a very close second though.

tinashe replied: @y/n, you a nasty girl fr.

sabrinacarpenter replied: @y/n girl, need you on that bed chem remix. about to do some damage…in a good way x

your insta post: almost always pictures of your creations; you like to keep your relationship with him private, that’s YOUR man, and you can get very possessive.

y/n feel free to add to your pinterest boards.

surfer!bf: baby you’re so talented 🩵

viviennewestwood: so excited to see your next collection!

surfer!bf: i love you.

y/n replied: @surfer!bf aw, i love you too babes!

plans for the future!

being with one of the greatest surfers in the world, definitely came with some amazing perks.

marriage:

oh, he’s 100% thought about it, and would definitely be the one to propose. the free spirit in him doesn’t need a piece of paper to prove that he loves you, truly. But would totally be your husband if you let him x

children:

your surfer!bf ABSOLUTELY WANTS TO HAVE A FAMILY WITH YOU! sees himself as the best father and y’all would have the cutest kids ever.

tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@multireese

@malereadermaniac

@lysanderplume

@ghostking4m

[cherryeclipses]

my boy | billy loomis

Billy loomis x reader

Non-gendered reader, no use of Y/N, mini one shot, what it’s like dating Billy

Word count: 300

⋆ ｡⋆ ｡⋆ ｡

Billy Loomis is toxic, psychotic, and insane. He’s possessive and a flirt, but so damn handsome.

Billy always has a hand on you. Holding you by the waist, wrapping his arm around you tightly. Intertwining your fingers loosely, running his thumb along your knuckles. If he can’t touch you, he always has an eye on you. You’re his and he’ll never let you stray too far.

Billy kisses you like the world is ending. Full of desperation and passion. Clutching your face in his hands, barely breaking away to breathe.

As much as he adores you, Billy still enjoys terrorising you. Calling your phone teasing you with his ghost face voice. He’d never actually hurt you, but he gets off on hearing the fear on the other end of the phone. Once he even made Stu break into your house so he could show up to save you. And fuck you silly while high on the adrenaline…

Sure he was flirtatious with other people but you were the one. Never letting another person put their hand on him. Only you.

He loved making stupid jokes to make you laugh. It was the only time he seemed soft was when you were laughing together. Only when no one was around of course. Passing you notes in class to make you giggle, knowing it would get you into trouble.

Date nights usually consisted of the two of you (and sometimes Stu) cuddled up on the couch watching horror films. Prom Night, Halloween, The Exorcist, My Bloody Valentine, you name it, you've probably seen it. Billy would always over explain his favourite scenes to you, whispering in your ear as you watched the tv. You never thought about how he always seemed to get turned on when the final girls were being murdered.

⋆ ｡⋆ ｡⋆ ｡

[midnightwritingsessions]

Chords of your heart

Summary: Being a close friend of one direction you are invited to take the stage with them. You play one of your favourite songs of theirs, one Niall had wrote. He had written the song about you and now you were singing it to Harry, his jealousy blinds him and he plays his guitar over your vocals. Bad summary and use of y/n! 🥴

Masterlist

1.5k words

Might not be my best writing sorry! <3

-

The crowd buzzed with excitement, an electric hum of anticipation rippling through the stadium. The lights dimmed slightly, and a hush fell over the audience before an eruption of screams as the familiar figures of One Direction took the stage. It was the middle of their world tour, and the energy was at an all-time high. Amongst the sea of flashing lights and waving hands, there was a particularly strong rumor floating around, Y/N might be performing tonight. As a longtime friend of the band, you had been seen traveling with them recently, fueling speculation.

You had know the band since they first gained fame, when you were still growing your career. You had risen up together and never let it affect your friendship. When they had announced their tour they invited you with them, an offer you couldn’t turn down. You were currently on a break from music after just coming back from your own tour a few months ago and thought this would be a good way to enjoy yourself instead of lazing around. So far you couldn’t have made a better decision everyday brought you laughter in some way, the boys were always joking around.

On the days off from their tour you made sure to take the boys out on trips in whatever city they were in. You took many photos which ended up on your social media. The stream of photos of you with the band in the cities and some back stage lead to rumours that you could be performing with them from fans and more invasive rumours of relationships and scandals from the press. After seeing the rumours the boys couldn’t turn down an opportunity to make their fans happy so they asked you to perform at a show with them. You didn’t even need to think about the answer.

Which led you to now, standing behind stage listening to the bands set waiting for your queue to join them. You were used to the loud cheers from fans and the deep vibrations from the excitement in the room but you still held your breath in anticipation and excitement for the reaction of your appearance from the crowd.

Fans had been posting theories all over social media, dissecting every Instagram story and blurry backstage sighting trying to guess which show you were coming out at if any at all. You had even added fuel to the fire by liking certain TikTok’s and posts of theories.

From your place just behind the scenes you could see Harry stepped up to the mic midway through the concert and smirk knowingly at the crowd, the stadium nearly shook with excitement. "So, we have a little surprise for you lot tonight. Well… not so little" he teased, glancing toward the side stage. "Our dear friend, and one of the most incredible artists out there, Y/N!" The roar was deafening as you walked onto the stage, beaming at the crowd. You hugged each of the boys before taking your own place between them. It felt surreal standing here, sharing this moment with your best friends.

They started with a few classic songs, some from their old albums and some of your own, your voice blending effortlessly with theirs, the chemistry undeniable. Each band member got their turn singing with you, your dynamics all different yet playful and electric. Then, it was time for the final song of your set with them, one that Niall had written and coincidentally was your favourite. What you or the rest of the band didn’t know (but maybe they had their suspicions) was that the song the girl was written about was you.

Your relationship with Niall was very dear to you and the past few weeks while being on tour with him had made your feelings for him grow, something you promised yourself you wouldn’t let happen. The past few weeks on tour had been filled with laughter, late-night conversations, and stolen moments between you and Niall. From sitting side by side in the tour bus, sharing headphones and swapping song ideas, to sneaking out after gigs for quiet walks through unfamiliar cities, you were close with Niall before but now he made your heart beat faster anytime he was near you.

One night, after a particularly long rehearsal, you had fallen asleep on the couch in the green room, curled up in an oversized hoodie. Niall had found you like that and couldn’t resist sitting beside you gently brushing a stray hair from your face. Louis had walked in moments later, smirking knowingly. “You’re gone for her, mate” he teased, clapping Niall on the back. Niall had simply sighed, not even bothering to deny it. Then, there were the inside jokes, the lingering glances, the way Niall’s hand would brush against yours for just a second longer than necessary or linger just above your lower back. Niall craved to just be able to reach out and touch you. You felt something, too, but your werent sure if you were imagining it. Did Niall see you as more than just a friend?

As the first chords rang out, Niall’s grip on his guitar tightened. He was expecting you to walk over to him to sing the song together like you always did no matter where you were instead, he watched as you gravitated toward Harry at center stage, your voice harmonizing beautifully with his. You were singing his lyrics, his feelings, with Harry. A knot tightened in his stomach. His emotions taking over and being conveyed through the music once again. His fingers pressed harder into the strings, and before he even realized it, he was adjusting the volume on his amp. The sound of his guitar swelled, drowning out the vocals as his mind tried to drown out the thoughts of you and Harry.

You exchanged confused glances with Harry next to you as you struggle to be heard over the aggressive strumming. Louis shot Niall a questioning but knowing look, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The song ended, and the band moved on, with you making your exit off stage yet it left a lingering sense of confusion hanging in the air. The show continued seamlessly, the audience none the wiser to the small tension brewing on stage.

You had brushed the incident off yet throughout the night Niall had seemed to escape your company, making excuses. You knew something was wrong so after the afterparty settled down, you found yourself standing outside Niall’s hotel room. You hesitated before knocking softly. The door swung open, revealing a disheveled Niall. His blue eyes were tired, but there was something else there, something raw. “Hey” you said gently. “Mind if I come in?” He stepped aside wordlessly, letting you in. The air between them was thick with unspoken words. You had perched yourself on the edge of the couch, watching him as he ran a hand through his hair. “Okay” you started taking a deep breath to try to navigate where to start “what was that about tonight? The guitar thing?” Niall let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked anywhere but at her. “I dunno” he mumbled. “Just got a little carried away in the excitement, I guess”

You tilted your head, unconvinced. “Niall…” He groaned, shoving his head into his hands before slowly, finally meeting her gaze. “It was the song, Y/N” he admitted, voice low. “I wrote it. About you”.Silence hung between them, your breath hitching being the only sound in the room. Confusion took over you. You couldn’t process that he made such a deep, beautiful song about..you?

“You… wrote that about me?” You echoed, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.“Yeah” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And then you were singing it… with Harry. At center stage. I just..” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Every emotion running through his body “It drove me mad” You stared at him, your heart pounding and pupils blown wide “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Didn’t think I had a chance” You didn’t know what to say. All this time, you didn’t consider the possibility that your thoughts of Niall reciprocating your feelings could be real. You knew he had always looked at you just a little differently but you didn’t think he had been holding onto feelings he thought he couldn’t share. Especially when you shared them this whole time.

You took a tentative step forward, closing the space between them. “You’re an idiot, Horan” you murmured a soft laugh escaping your lips before reaching up to press a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. He stiffened in surprise before melting into your touch, his arms wrapping around you as if he’d been waiting forever to do so. And maybe he had. When you pulled away, you smiled. “Next time, just tell me, okay?” He grinned, his fingers lacing with hers. “Yeah. Next time” He dropped his head to the crook of your neck with a dopey, love sick smile across his face. He could finally relax.

-

Thank you for reading!!

[starkidlabs]

Just for anyone interested. Some highlights from the London production of Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812

In general instead of leaning into 1800’s Russia the show leaned into the club/electro aspects of the music. Which was reflected in the clothing and the overall set. The set felt quite bare and like a club in a sense. But there was some really great set pieces that made some scenes super effective like the Opera and the final scene.

I think the opera was the first scene that had me like wow this is something. Very striking and completely different from anything I’ve seen at all. There was a use of light up opera glasses (binoculars) in general Anatole’s entrance was entrancing.

The club in the The Duel had well club vibes, a lot of glowing green shots and glowing green batons being twirled. The Duel itself was performed on the balcony railings both Pierre and Dolokohv’s actors were holding onto a rope and leaning heavily to the side with their guns (made it a lot scarier) Dolokohv was climbing all over the place

Just to talk about Dolokohv in general he was a lot sluttier (in the most affectionate way possible) made out a ton with Helene - made out with Anatole and touched his face lovingly a lot - tried to make out with Balaga - he was denied. Generally loved his costume. Painted nails, see through shirt. Honestly a vibe,

I think Cat’s performance as Helene definitely reviled Amber’s. And during Charming Natasha was far more into it. She 100% wanted Helene to kiss her.

In terms of Dust and Ashes the choir appeared from no where behind me - which made my hair stand on end - entirely heavenly.

The Ball felt a bit like a sex club? If that makes sense. Surprisingly worked very very well. There was some great direction here - use of actors and where they were placed made everything feel more confined and some great lighting made everything feel so intense.

Now for Natasha - I love Chumisa’s performance so much. You felt her youth and naivety, in every scene. And it really came out in the scenes where she was arguing, she came across as more confident but also more petulant. It worked really well and I think it really made Natasha more endearing as a protagonist as you can tell just how in over her head she is without her ever realising it.

Letters was so fun. That is all I’ll say. That and also Jamie stuffing a letter down his pants was just !!!!

Let’s talk about Anatole - maybe it’s just because I love Jamie Muscato (ever since I saw him in the Bonnie & Clyde workshop) but he honestly gave one of my favourite performances I’ve ever seen on stage. I think he brought so much charm to the role that you can tell why Natasha falls for him. I think there is a slight awkward nervousness there that Anatole seems to use to his advantage especially when around Natasha and Pierre. He was fantastic in every scene he was in and in Pierre & Anatole, you could see all the layers of his character come out at once. Honestly a fantastic performance.

The Abduction/Balaga was definitely my favourite scene. There was so much energy. And Helene, Dolokohv and Anatole just sort of lit up every scene they were in, but there was a particular energy in this scene that made it really stand out. Like you could feel the rush. At some point Anatole gets one of the audience members to kiss him on the cheek which was 10/10. And Balaga just straight up sits on someone’s lap. Not to mention Balaga was in leather with a leather whip. Honestly the energy in this scene was amazing. I was bopping up and down (I was in the back row so it’s fine). - also I’m not sure if this was changed in past reworks of the show but it’s now ‘Goodbye my moonlit lover’ (or moonlight - I forget)

I’ve already mentioned Pierre & Anatole - but that was definitely one of my favourite Pierre scenes. Enjoyed seeing the fear in Anatoles eyes. And yes Petersburg was high!

Natasha Very Ill was extremely haunting and sent shivers down my spine. Honestly Maimuna’s voice is incredible and while obviously not the same as Brittain’s - it was just as unique and striking. Sonya Alone definitely had one of the largest applauses of the night.

I feel like in general this version of Pierre had to grow on me a lot. I feel like he was the only one whose voice was vastly misaligned with the original BW cast. Definitely less classical more rock. But I think he really came into his own during the final few songs where I feel like he could lean into that Pierre softness. And Chumisa brought so much sadness and tenderness into that scene that it made it super hard hitting. (One thing I didn’t like is the spoken line felt a little rushed - it needed to be dragged into a few more beats for that impact).

There were lightbulbs scattered around the seats which all lit up during the final song which really made the entire thing very beautiful. There was also a halo of light beating down on Pierre. I think the harmonies hit the most in this scene.

[three-realms-archive]

Dramatic Drama

“What the hell was that?!”

Mammon and Asmodeus yelled in unison, leaning forward to give threatening glares to the characters on screen. The pair continued to insult the male lead in particular, as he fell to his knees and grovelled for the forgiveness of his female love interest. They scolded the actor like he could somehow hear. The woman stood firm despite her former lover grovelling at her feet - and yet her face showed signs of pain and conflict.

You weren’t really sure what to expect, when you invited Mammon, Asmodeus and Satan to watch one of your favourite human-world telenovelas with you. They all seemed to love TV shows and books with plenty of drama, but you were surprised at the intensity of their reactions.

Well… Mammon’s and Asmo’s. Though you had a sneaking suspicion Satan was enjoying your watch session more than he let on.

“Whilst I’m not going to yell,” Satan began, “this is still idiotic. She literally just caught him being intimate with another woman, so how can she still stand there like -“

“Girl, you better not!” Asmo’s screeching cut Satan off as the Avatar of Lust clutched his fuzzy, pink comforter to his chest - Satan snapping his head back to the TV as the words “… but I still love you…” from the male actor floated through the speakers, along with some very dramatic guitar music. As he confessed his love for her, the woman turned look him in the eye with a softened gaze… much to the chagrin of your companions.

“No, no, no!!! Don’t you dare say you love that idiot!” Mammon growled, shaking his fist at the TV. You sighed.

“I’m glad you’re all enjoying this, but maybe don’t be too loud. We’re right next to Lucifer’s room…”

“WAIT!!!” Everyone (now including a very emotionally-invested Satan) half-shushed, half-yelled. The woman had offered the man her hand, pulling him to his feet. The three demons on the sofa leaned forward, in nervous anticipation. Asmo’s comforter was now on the floor, forgotten. Mammon was on one side of you, clinging to your arm like a lifeline. Satan was on your other side, eyes wide, your sleeve balled into his fist so hard the threads had begun to unravel. You decided to just lean back in your seat and enjoy the scene, knowing what was to come next. The woman spoke.

“I…”

Satan was seething. Asmo was chanting seriously under his breath:  ”Don’t do it, girl - don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t -“

“I… I…!”

Mammon had leaned so far forward, he’d slipped off the edge of the sofa - and onto the floor alongside Asmo’s comforter. He hadn’t made any sound, though, chanting with Asmo and gritting his teeth as -

“… I love you, too.”

And hell broke loose.

Satan began to throw things - pillows, food and books. Mammon threw his hands up and started yelling at a now-cracked screen; a thick book (courtesy of the Avatar of Wrath) lodged into the glass. A shrieking, livid Asmo caused the door to creak open only a few seconds later.

…

… A few seconds too late, as Lucifer opened the door to a TV remote hitting him smack in the head.

(inspired by a telenovela from my childhood that i've been rewatching, lol. something like this happened to the second male ad female leads, who are love interests - and i remember being so mad, especially since i shipped the second male lead so hard with the main female lead. i was also mad because they repeated this like multiple times throughout the series and i was like, girl no why this is the tenth time you've done this exact same thing. i was also also mad because the second leads being romantic with each other started so ridiculously late in the show i couldn't get behind it - and all of that culminated my young self raging even tho the show was so so good if you just take out that romance)

[alexdswfan]

Hange and Levi's first meeting in No Regrets and what it means to Levi

I'd like to talk about a scene in No Regrets that gets brought up sometimes by certain people in the fandom, which is Levi and Hange's first meeting, but I don't think fandom talks enough about the emotional impact this scene must've had on Levi, or why that first meeting is so important to him. This scene always manages to make me feel emotional no matter how many times I think about it, hence why it's my favourite part of the manga, because for the first time since Levi, Furlan and Isabel got in the Survey Corps, someone treated them with kindness and didn't look down on them.

The first thing we can notice from the way Hange approached them is how genuine and excited Hange is with what they achieved with the Titan, making sure to include them all in the achievement and not only Levi as seen here by how Isabel tells Hange that their group is amazing and Hange agreeing with her.

Hange is interested in getting to know more about Levi's strength, but it's in a way where they want to learn from him and get taught by him rather than in an idea of using his strength as a tool. By bringing the other Scouts in the conversation as seen below, Hange encourages Levi to teach them his tricks so they can all have better chances of survival and also kill Titans more efficiently from now on.

Hange wants to get to know Levi as a person first and foremost, which does impact Levi who hasn't really met anyone in the Survey Corps until that point to be interested in himself as a person and not just as a tool, and in his friends too as he's inseparable from them. Hange doesn't forget about them and even includes them in the conversation in their own easygoing way as seen in this panel.

Continuing on this idea, one of the most important parts of this scene is how Hange isn't only friendly with Levi, but they're friendly with Isabel and Furlan too, going so far as to give Isabel a treat for the start of their new friendship. It might not mean much, but for people who recently left the Underground where getting treats was probably a luxury or at best hard to come by, Hange's action will impact them far more than some people might realize. These three have constantly been called thugs or have been disrespected until they showed their technical prowess with Titans during their first expedition, so to see Hange push past that barrier by wanting a genuine friendship with them is such a contrast to the way they have been treated by the others all this time. And even when Levi is curt with Hange, they don't give up, inviting them all to a meal after the expedition is over, which shows how much Hange wants to get to know them better as people, and not only as soldiers skilled with ODM gear.

I think what impacted Levi the most out of that exchange wasn't necessarily that Hange was kind with him. It's definitely important, but when we know how much Levi cares about the ones he loves, how he values their lives much more than his own, it's that Hange was so kind with his friends that really impacted him the most, and I don't think fandom talks enough about it. How affected Levi must've been by Hange's sheer kindness without expecting anything in return from him in a world where that concept simply didn't exist. Levi was being kind with others, but this is the first time we see someone else that isn't part of his group be kind to him in return. I think what Hange did that day for him and his friends meant a lot more to Levi than we realize. Someone in the Survey Corps finally treated them as they should've always been treated, with respect and kindness and not with disdain or even coercion. And Hange isn't bothered by his refusal to communicate with them as seen by Furlan's reply here: "Anyway, Hange doesn't seem particularly bothered."

They respect his boundaries when Levi doesn't feel like answering since he doesn't want to get attached to new people (we know how that plan failed in retrospect, but he still tried), and that's because Hange doesn't try to force anything out of him. They tried and he didn't want to engage, that was fine with them, they'll still want to be his friend in the future regardless of Levi's answer. And I don't think fandom gives enough credit to Hange in this scene.

This scene will forever remain my favourite in No Regrets because it shows just how incredibly kind and friendly Hange was with Levi since the very beginning. Yes, this has to do with Hange's personality, that it's just like them to be attracted by the new outsiders or misfits and try to befriend them, but the important part is that someone at least tried. And it makes total sense how out of everyone we know, it had to be Hange to carry out that role. Someone caring as much about his friends as Levi simply cannot be hated by him. This scene actually destroys that claim even more, because by this definition, Levi would have to hate the first person in the Survey Corps to actually be friendly with his friends, the most important people in his life at that moment in time. It's again completely nonsensical to say that, and I do think the people who keep saying it either have forgotten this scene exists or they'd rather ignore it because it wasn't included in the OVA. But regardless of the reason, the fact remains this scene is part of the No Regrets manga and is important to delve even further into the relationship of Levi and Hange as it presents the blueprint of their relationship. Supportive and caring for each other until the very end.

Edit: I want to add that Levi definitely felt suspicious towards Hange's kindness at first since genuine kindness doesn't exist in his world. Coming from the Underground, he has all the reasons to be suspicious of Hange (as people have pointed it out in the reblogs). That being said, Hange's intention was to be friendly with him without wanting anything in return from that friendship, and I do think Levi was more appreciative of the whole exchange later in time when he got to learn Hange better. I struggle to say that someone who later in the story becomes one of his closest friends tried to be manipulative with him at the beginning of their relationship like the man with glasses from Bad Boy. Levi would never try to befriend such a person in my opinion. But we all know how their relationship grew instead, where their communication skills are beyond anything we've seen in the manga, so in the end, Hange's intention of becoming his friend proved to be genuine despite Levi's first suspicions. Therefore, I respectfully disagree with the interpretation brought forward in the comments that Hange might've been manipulative with Levi and his friends. Hange has no reason to manipulate them. Let's all remember Hange has no clue whatsoever about the subject Levi, Furlan and Isabel discuss beforehand. They're only interested in the group's prowess and efficiency at fighting Titans, and then later in them as people since they're open to a more meaningful friendship with them three. Someone manipulative wouldn't have cared about being friends with them afterwards.

[yvesssssssss]

Omg I loved it thank you so much pookie but can you do a part 2 where like nagumos favourite character was either Natalie cause she didn't fully like the Cannibalism or lottie and his reaction to them dying? (I love you please don't go bald😰)

Nagumo Yoichi Watches Yellowjackets Part 2

Hope you like the second part! I hope this is accurate.🥹

Part 1

The night continued, and Nagumo was still reeling from the shocking cannibalism scene. However, the show was far from over, and despite the trauma, he had become strangely invested.

But the real emotional rollercoaster began when he finally chose a favorite character.

"Alright, alright. I gotta admit, I’m really into Natalie. She’s tough, she doesn’t give in to the whole ‘cannibal’ thing, and she’s got that whole anti-hero vibe. She’s smart, sarcastic, and she’s clearly got layers." Nagumo stretched out, grinning. "Yeah, she's my girl."

You gave him a teasing smile. "Oh, really? You sure? Not Lottie?"

Nagumo paused, looking at you as if you’d just suggested he marry a spoon. "Lottie’s got her moments. But she’s way too cult-y for me. I need someone with more bite."

You snorted, not able to stop yourself. "Yeah, that’s Natalie, alright."

Nagumo nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! She's the one who’s got it figured out."

But then came the episode where Natalie meets her tragic end.

Nagumo’s face shifted from excitement to confusion to absolute disbelief as the scene unfolded. Natalie, his tough-as-nails survivor… gone.

He blinked several times, trying to process what he had just seen.

"Did she—did she just die? Did I just… did they just kill Natalie?! What?!" Nagumo’s voice was a mix of shock and frustration. He turned to you, eyes wide, looking like you’d betrayed him personally. "Why didn’t you warn me about this?!"

You raised an eyebrow. "Did you think everyone was going to make it out okay?"

Nagumo threw his hands up, a dramatic flair taking over. "I just wanted a girl who doesn’t go full cannibal mode! Is that too much to ask?!" He slumped back into the couch, looking at the screen like it had personally wronged him. "Why are all the good ones getting killed off? First, we’ve got plane crashes, then murder, and now… this?"

You laughed at his over-the-top reaction, but then he turned to you, giving a sad little pout.

"Okay, but Lottie... she’s got potential. Maybe she’ll survive!"

A few episodes later, Lottie’s storyline took an even darker turn.

Nagumo sat forward, hands gripping the armrest, eyes glued to the screen. "She’s really… she’s really doing this whole ‘let’s start a cult’ thing, huh? I don’t know about this, babe."

You smirked. "You really think she’s gonna make it out now?"

Just as you finished speaking, Lottie was taken out in the most shocking way possible, and Nagumo’s jaw dropped.

"Wait, WHAT?! No! No, no, no, no, NO!" he yelled, startling you with his outburst. "First Natalie, now Lottie?! What is this show?!" He leaned back in his seat, throwing his hands up again. "I’m starting to think this whole show’s a conspiracy to break my heart."

You laughed again, enjoying the chaos he was experiencing. "Hey, at least you know I have good taste in shows."

Nagumo crossed his arms, sulking. "Yeah, well, at least I know not to get too attached to anyone anymore." He pouted dramatically. "You see, sweetheart? This is why I only watch shows with happy endings. I’m the only one left standing."

You rolled your eyes. "You sure about that? You’ve got a lot of snacks, Yoichi. Pretty sure the next one to go is you."

He flinched. "No, no, no. I’m built different. I can survive anything… except, maybe, this show."

And just when you thought his dramatic reactions were over, he turned to you one last time, a determined glint in his eyes.

"No matter how chaotic this gets, I’m sticking around," he said with a smirk. "After all, who else could handle this mess with you better than me?"

With that, you both sank into the couch together, Nagumo clutching a pillow for dear life as you dove deeper into the chaos that was Yellowjackets. The emotional rollercoaster? Not even close to over, but at least he knew he had someone by his side who wasn’t going to eat him… yet.

[tls12lessthan3]

*looking disdainfully at orv top kudos page* kdj doesn't even fucking hate himself in these

anyway, have you made a fic rec post? I would love to see some well characterised orv fics but I don't know how to find them and you are the only person who knows hsy personally through prophetic visions :DD

i have not made a general orv one! im honoured you trust my taste enough to ask though honestly i'm not the biggest kim dokja angst fiend so im unsure if you'll get what youre looking for. still i'll give it a shot

i am the dreadful need (and the devotee) - i have recommended this before and i'm doing so again. a vaguely orpheus and eurydice inspired story focused on the inevitability of looking back. it's technically yoohankim but mainly a sort of yoo joonghyuk character study that i highly enjoyed

The Act of Creation - a post-epilogue tranfem yoo joonghyuk fic that is a fandom classic (to me at least) by my dear mutual! a very sweet fic and a good extrapolation of many of the trans themes/moments in yoo joonghyuk's story

The cough that won't go away - an adorable hanahaki au ( i shant spoil who between) set about 10 years post epilogue. made me laugh a lot and captures a lot of the warmth in the relationships in kimcom

the false last act - top 10 fics that make me wanna puke and throw up and die and kill myself and die again. slash pos. really good epilogue fic!!!

The Scars of Dreaming - a fic centred on conversations between oldest dream and kim dokja carried out over a period of time as they both try to adjust post-epilogue.

and you will find your way in any given storm - thee na bori/lee jihye fic as far as im concerned.

what the living do - another good epilogue fic. epilogue fics tend to be a favourite of mine im realising.....what can i say im fascinated by that time in their lives and i think this fic portrays it well

Moments that the Words Don't Reach - another epilogue fic this time focused on han sooyoung taking care of yoo mia after yoo joonghyuk leaves for space. when i say this devastated me beyond belief i am not joking. i will be thinking about the scene on the subway forever and ever

a couple general author recs are:

stuffandsundry has a lot of good fics but i especially recommend this selencroft fic, this 0th turn fic, and this 999th lee jihye fic! theyre all short oneshots that capture moments of relationships in orv that make my heart hurt

namci is another i recommend, they have a lot of good oneshots that i think i've recommended before. alternatively making me cackle and nod thoughtfully at character analysis. i would especially suggest this yoohankim university au

sonasona is an orv veteran and has a delightful array of works to show for it. what remains is a particular favourite as i adore cigarettes and the metaphorical implications thereof

i'm sure there are others im forgetting right now but these are more or less the best from my bookmarks so..hope you enjoy :)

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Write About You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Writing About Their Sex Life

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Rafe and Y/N finally get to take a class together, but maybe she didn't choose the right class to share with him.

Masterlist

Y/N knew she shouldn’t have let Rafe take an elective with her. She should’ve called it fate when they didn’t get into the same class during the fall semester, but Rafe was very determined to be in the same class as her. She honestly does love being able to spend time with him during class; it’s just that maybe a creative writing class isn’t the best for both of them. Rafe respects her boundaries during class, letting her focus on taking notes and listening to the professor, so that isn’t the problem. No, the problem is that Rafe hates creative writing as a whole. He isn’t great with words and the only topic he wants to write about is his angel. So far he is skating by with his assignments; however, he needs to do decent on his final portfolio to pass the class. Y/N makes it her mission to make sure her boyfriend passes and she is starting to regret it. For the past assignments, she didn’t have time to go over his work before he submitted it, so she was unaware of the recurring theme in all of his work. 

Rafe’s eyes bore into her as she read over his work, anxious for what she had to say. He doesn’t care about passing. If he doesn’t pass, he can always let his dad’s money pass hands to change that F into a B. Except this is a little different, Y/N wants him to do well so he wants to do well. Y/N glances over each word and heat starts to build inside of her heart. 

I don’t believe in religion, 

yet I do believe in Angels. 

Because I found mine, 

And she is absolutely divine. 

I live for her smile.

She makes my life worthwhile. 

She stole my heart

Because she is a work of art. 

His poem has no structure and isn’t long enough per the assignment requirements. It does rhyme, yet she has to admit it isn’t very good. She is sweetened up by the fact that he chose her as his subject. As she reads the rest of his pieces, she notices how she is his only subject. She finally reads the last piece and looks up at him with a soft smile. “You wrote about me,” she states, flipping through the pages. He nods, “Yeah, you are my muse, Angel. Do you like it?” “It’s really sweet, Rafe. I just don’t know how I feel knowing that you wrote about our sex life for your short story and that our professor is going to mark this,” she explains. He flashes a proud smile, “Yeah, I think I really captured your beauty in that one. I was thinking about reading that one during our last class when we can share our work. Show that guy, who sits in front of us who keeps looking back at you, just how satisfied you are with me.” Y/N’s eyes widen to saucers and she shakes her head. “Rafe, please don’t read this in class. In fact, I think we need to work on some of these pieces because you can’t only write about me,” she begs, turning the stack of papers so he can read her feedback. He frowns, “Come on let me write about you, Angel.” 

“You can, but if you want to pass, you have to choose three other topics to talk about. You can choose one piece to keep about me.”

“But I only want to write about you. Plus, I can’t choose because they all have to do with you so I love them all.”

“I know. Maybe we can alter the topic so it is still about me but not as obvious. My favourite is this sudden fiction. Your stream of consciousness is really good and you bring the scene to life with the senses. So let's see what you can write about for your other pieces.”

Rafe nods at his girlfriend’s suggestion. His heart flutters at the thought that she likes one of his works. He takes a second to seriously consider what she says and a light bulb goes off. “How about for the poem, I write about the future family that we can have?” he considers, already writing down the lines he is thinking of. She reads over what he writes and a smile blooms across her face. “That is a great idea. Now, we just need to look at two other topics.” 

———

Y/N is studying in the library when Rafe comes rushing to her with his phone in his hand. “Angel, Angel. Look what I got on my portfolio,” he announces. His phone shoots before her eyes and she has to hold his hand to keep it steady. Y/N looks at the screen, reading the B- on display. She claps her hand in celebration and then wraps her arms around his neck. “This is amazing, Rafe. I am so proud of you,” she kisses his cheek. He revels in her pride, “It wasn’t all me, Angel. I have you and your brilliant brain to thank for the help. You make me smarter every single day.” Rafe couldn’t feel more lucky to have such an amazing girlfriend, who helps him grow as a person and succeed.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife