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maskedbyghost · 24 hours ago

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You were facing the wall.

Arms tucked close to your chest, your back turned toward the door, and a blanket pulled up to your chin even though it wasn’t cold. Your eyes were wide open. You weren’t even trying to sleep. The light from the hallway bled under the crack in the door, and every time it shifted, your breath caught, half-hoping, half-dreading that it was him.

He’d left without another word. You’d told him to sleep on the couch, and he didn’t argue. Just looked at you for a moment, his lips pressed into that hard line he always got when he was trying not to say something he’d regret. And then he walked out.

That was almost an hour ago.

You blinked slowly, eyes stinging. You hated fighting with him. Hated the way it left your chest tight and your mind buzzing. You hated the silence afterward even more. And this time… you weren’t even sure who was more in the wrong.

The fight started with something stupid. It usually did. You’d asked him why he hadn’t texted back when you messaged him earlier in the day—just a casual check-in, nothing serious. He said he’d been busy. You said you understood, but something about your tone made it obvious you didn’t. And then he said, “It’s not always about you,” and you froze.

It wasn’t just the words. It was the way he said them, like you’d been a burden instead of someone he missed. Like he didn’t have space for you in his head that day, and you were wrong for noticing it.

You’d snapped and told him if he didn’t want to talk to you, he could’ve just said that. Told him you weren’t going to beg him for attention. He looked at you like he wanted to speak but didn’t, and you’d finally said it.... go sleep on the couch, Simon, because you didn’t know what else to say that wouldn’t hurt more.

And he left.

Now you were here, pretending the pillow was more comfortable than his chest, replaying the words in your head until they lost all their meaning. You hadn’t even told him goodnight. And he hadn’t told you he loved you, not like he always did before bed.

Your throat tightened. You blinked at the wall again, trying to will yourself not to cry, not now when you’d already said your piece, already told him to leave. You didn’t want to be the one to break first. But still, your chest ached in that way that only came when something between you felt wrong.

A floorboard creaked somewhere outside the bedroom. Then silence came, a pause just long enough to make you question if you’d even heard anything at all.

And then—

The door creaked open slowly.

You stayed still. You didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to seem too eager, didn’t want him to think you’d just forget everything because he came back. But your heart betrayed you, picking up speed the moment you heard his quiet footsteps on the carpet. Then the bed dipped behind you, before his arm wrapped around your waist, fast like he was afraid you’d push him away if he didn’t do it quick.

You didn’t.

“I know you’re awake,” he said quietly, his breath brushing against the back of your neck.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

“I thought about what you said.” His voice was low and soft. “And I thought about what I said. And I didn’t come back to fight. I just... I needed you to hear this.”

He paused, exhaling slowly.

“I fucked up,” he admitted. “I was tired and distracted, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just lookin’ for me and I made you feel like you were too much.”

Your eyes burned. Still, you didn’t speak.

“I never want you to feel that way,” he murmured. “Not ever. Not when you text me, not when you talk to me, not when you just exist near me. You’re not a burden. You’re… you’re the best part of my day, and I treated you like you weren’t. I’m sorry, love.”

You felt his hand squeeze your side gently, like he was grounding himself just as much as he was trying to comfort you.

“I meant what I said before I left,” he added, “but I meant it wrong. It’s not always about you, but it should be. You’re my person. I should’ve answered you. I should’ve checked in. You have every right to need me.”

You blinked hard, finally managing to whisper, “I wasn’t trying to fight.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “I know, love. You were just tryin’ to connect. And I shut down on you. I let shit get in my head and I pushed you out. I won’t do that again.”

You turned slowly, finally facing him. His eyes met yours in the dim light, and god, he looked wrecked.

“I just missed you,” you whispered. “That’s all.”

He reached up and cupped your face gently. “I missed you too. More than I can say. And I don’t want to end a single fuckin’ day with you wonderin’ if I care. I do. So much.”

You leaned in, tucking your face against his neck. His arms wrapped around you fully now, pulling you in close, holding you tight like he’d fall apart if he didn’t, before his lips pressed against your hair.

“I’m not goin’ back to the couch,” he said softly. “Even if you ask again. I’ll sleep on the floor next to you before I ever leave you like that again.”

That made you laugh, just a little.

“Sorry I got mean,” you mumbled.

He smiled into your hair. “You weren’t mean. You were hurt. And I made you feel that way. I deserved it.”

You looked up at him, eyes searching his face. “You’re really good at this. Talking about it. Most guys just shut down.”

“I used to,” he admitted. “Didn’t fix a damn thing. I’d rather talk and hold you than be right.”

You snorted. “You were wrong though.”

He grinned. “I know. Fully aware of it.”

You finally let your body relax fully against him, tension leaving piece by piece as he kissed your forehead and whispered, “Still love you, even when we fight. Especially then.”

“I love you too,” you murmured.

And you meant it. Even when it was hard. Even when things got messy. Because he came back. Because he chose to come back and say the things that mattered. Not everyone did.

But Simon did. And that was enough.

----------------------------------------

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#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon riley imagine #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you

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alinathinkstoomuch · 3 days ago

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CLOSET FULL OF NERVES

pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader summary: meeting your FBI boyfriend’s team? cue the outfit crisis, a bad blouse, and a mild spiral. good thing aaron knows exactly how to talk you down and remind you that being yourself is more than enough, based on this requesst. warnings: fluffff, brief porno discussion lol, aaron being sweet and protective word count: 1.1k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Meeting Hotch’s—Aaron’s, now—team shouldn’t have filled you with this much anxiety and yet here you were, engulfed by nerves, knee-deep in a closet implosion, and currently debating whether the sacred casual but cute look was code for jeans or a dress or a possible a tailored meltdown. Your people-pleasing radar was at its absolute peak. You’d changed outfits six times, debated redoing your hair twice, and spent far too long practicing a casual ‘hi’ in the mirror.

When Aaron mentioned drinks with the team at the start of the week, it had sounded breezy enough. Being around a bunch of slightly tipsy profilers (aka human lie detectors) couldn’t be that bad…right?

Well. You were now strongly reconsidering your earlier optimism.

You’d pieced together a mental scrapbook of them from the sidelines through Aaron’s end-of-day stories, Jack’s offhand dinner-table commentary, and the one time JJ had picked up Henry from a playdate and waved at you like she already knew your SAT scores.

But dating Aaron? That changed the math. This wasn’t idle curiosity anymore. This was entering the orbit of people who could, with startling ease, determine your attachment style and also what you were like in sixth grade. Especially now, since you weren’t just the nanny anymore—you were his person. And walking into a room full of highly perceptive people who loved him like family suddenly felt like the pressure had tripled.

You were still standing in front of the mirror, scrutinising your earrings when you heard your phone buzz.

Aaron: Leaving now. Should be there in 10.

You: Are we sure this is a good idea? I’m totally fine skipping this one. No pressure, no potential for public humiliation. Everyone wins.

Aaron: You’ll be fine, don’t stress. They’re going to like you.

You: But will they like-like me?

You wait. Longer than is reasonable for a man who never uses more than ten words per text.

Aaron: I like-like you.

It was unfair, really, how casually he could undo you with four words and a hyphen. You blinked at your reflection. Your hair was doing something vaguely hopeful and the earrings suddenly didn’t seem like they mattered all that much.

You hearted the text and figured you’d let him actually reverse out of the parking lot and into yours before you started catastrophizing again. You just needed to get through the evening. Smile. Make polite conversation. Don’t say anything that reveals your deeply repressed childhood fears or the fact that you still Google words you pretend to know.

After exactly ten minutes you heard a knock on your door.

You were, naturally, mid-blouse change, tangled in something with too many buttons and not enough leniency. So you grabbed your phone, thumbed out a quick It’s open, and tossed it onto the bed, which now looked like a fabric massacre had occurred.

From downstairs, his voice travelled up to your bedroom. “Please tell me you didn’t leave the door unlocked again.”

You groaned, loudly. “Hello to you too!”

“I’m serious,” Aaron called back. “You live alone, what if someone had walked in?”

You stepped into the hallway, barefoot and still adjusting your sleeves. “What if it was the tooth fairy? You ever consider that? Maybe I was hoping to get my rent covered.”

He appeared at the bottom of the stairs then, that furrow between his brows activated in full-blown dad mode. “You live alone in a house with multiple windows and no security system.”

“Yes, but I have a very scary FBI boyfriend who never smiles. All the nonexistent threats in this neighborhood know better than to mess with me.”

You flicked the bedroom light off, grabbed your phone and made your way downstairs, one hand on the railing, the other trying to discreetly tug your blouse into behaving. You narrowed your eyes at your allegedly serious, stoic boyfriend, who, for someone denying the existence of his own smile, was very clearly suppressing one right now.

“Is something funny?”

He shook his head, far too quickly. “No. Not at all. You just look... different.”

You stopped at the last step. “Different how?”

“Just…”

“Spit it out, Hotchner, or I swear I’ll continue leaving my doors unlocked.” Blackmail. It never lets you down.

“You don’t look very you. You look like…we’re going to a job interview.”

“Aaron!” you shrieked, giving his chest a shove.

He took it in stride, both hands raised in surrender, that damn half-smile still flirting with the corner of his mouth. “Honey, I know how you dress. And I would bet actual money that this blouse still has the tags on from when you panic-bought it today.”

“I wanted to make a good impression,” you groaned, tipping your head back. “Figured if I dressed normal enough, it might smooth over the whole ‘Hi, I’m slutting it up with your boss who also happens to be my boss because I’m his nanny’ thing. Which, if we’re being honest, sounds like the plot of a really bad porno.”

Aaron raised a brow. “Oh yeah? What do you know about pornos?”

You squinted at him, suspicious. “Is this a trap?”

“Just curious. You seemed oddly fluent in the premise.”

“I—okay, I was making a point. A colourful, exaggerated point.”

“That you’re in a porno.”

You sighed, ready to launch into a defensive monologue but Aaron stepped forward and caught your hands. Both of them. Like he’d done it a hundred times before and would keep doing it until your brain finally agreed you were safe.

“All jokes aside, I want you to be comfortable. And I want you to be you—the great, wonderful, endlessly patient, charming woman I fell in love with. Not some version you think will be more appealing to everyone else.”

You let a breath out.

“Now,” he continued, “if this blouse makes you feel confident and happy, then wear it. But what I don’t want—what I won’t let happen—is you walking in there thinking any of this is inappropriate, or scandalous, or something to be ashamed of.”

The inside of your cheek caught between your teeth. Not because you didn’t believe him, but because it was easier to chew on skin than emotion.

“Yes,” he added, “it was a little complicated at the start. We knew that. But I’d go through all of it again if it meant ending up here with you.”

There was something a little terrifying and kind of wonderful about being seen that clearly by someone who refused to look away. Your heart did this weird fluttery thing, like affection had turned into a full-body cramp.

“I hate this blouse,” you mumbled.

Aaron’s mouth twitched. “I suspected.”

“Do I have time to change?”

He checked his watch, then looked back at you. “Only if you tell me what pornos you’ve been watching in your spare time.”

You laughed, a chesty thing that felt borderline suffocating inside the godforsaken polyester trap that passed for a blouse on the receipt. “That’s blackmail.”

“Hm,” he hummed casually, “wonder where I got the idea from.”

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raevpng · 17 hours ago

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all these rumours

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

masterlist

summary: times azzi was sick of subtle and quiet hints and attempts to hard launch with her longtime best friend and girlfriend. frustration and chaos ensues however, when she fails. multiple. times.

a/n: thank u for ur patience once again lovelies 🥹 im still gonna edit this but this is my longest one shot ever so i hope it’s still enjoyable 😭 tell me ur thoughts <3

azzi knew more or less that there was a hefty price to pay for the dream life she chased.

she knew that eventually, the talent she’s harnessed and worked on for years would pay off – that the world would know what she could do. who she could be.

picture perfect form, unshakable morals, a humble yet competitive spirit.

that was who azzi fudd is. the kind of basketball player kids dreamed to be.

and she got it – she has what she’s worked so hard to do all her life. she got in the basketball capital of the world, she had a team that felt more like family, friendships that grounded her, people she’d bleed for.

and somehow, in the middle of all of that—she fell in love.

people were always stunned when she told the story. the story of how she met her soulmate, her twin flame, her everything.

paige bueckers.

every bit of a great athlete azzi is. she led with a kind of love and passion for not only the game, but for the people she played with. she had the kind of faith that swayed you, and a personality that left everyone wanting more.

and really, azzi understands. she understands why the internet obsessed over every interaction they had. every glance, touch, every shared laugh. they were absolutely enamored with their dynamic.

she understands cause she was living it.

she found a lover in her best friend. and god, azzi could never forget how softly their relationship had blossomed. how gently they had crossed the line between platonic and romantic. she remembers the soft confessions, the nervous first date, the jealousy they felt as they tried to hide from each other throughout their highschool careers.

she remembers how tough it was for paige had to watch azzi go with a boy to prom, and for azzi to watch as the media spun narrative after narrative of paige’s latest rumored boyfriend.

a hundred moments they had to swallow their love and smile like it didn’t sting.

but when azzi got to uconn, everything changed.

they were no longer living parallel lives — they were living the same one. suddenly it wasn’t just about quiet stares and lingering touches. it was about navigating something real, something tangible. they had a much harder time trying to bury their affections for each other. hands lingered a little longer than necessary, stares burned in a way that friends definitely did not do.

they tried to hide it. they really did.

nonetheless, everyone caught up to it pretty quick.

including their coaches and staff.

and safe to say they had a very thorough talk about media training and deal that yes – there was no rule that they couldn’t date, but it had to be very quiet, down low.

and it was easy.

kinda.

they were surrounded by the best team mates, who supported them through thick and thin. who, sure, maybe gagged at their quick kisses and cuddles during move nights or quick embraces in locker rooms before a game. but through it all, even with the chaos, azzi was content. grateful, even.

but now?

now it was different. they weren’t teammates anymore. they weren’t under the same roof, with the same jersey, following the same rules.

and azzi, has quiet as she had been during their years in uconn, was absolutely dying to show off her girlfriend.

because why not?

she can now.

and she was so damn ready.

–

forget about ending it with a bang, they started it with a bang.

the 2025 draft was much anticipated, not only for the fates of their future rookies in the league, but for the fashion, the glitz, the glamour.

and azzi?

she made damn sure she showed up. she pops out in the glittery black dress that hugs her curves perfectly, with her hair styled in curls that cascaded down the expanse of her bare, toned back.

and she came with a statement to make.

she made sure to stay by paige’s side for photos, smiling at her in a way that no longer held back adoration. heart eyes, the fans said. she posed for pictures as paige wrapped her hand around her waist, smiling with a love-sick, dopey grin that only fueled the flutter of butterflies in her stomach.

and if that wasn’t enough, she smiled to herself victoriously as she settled down in her very own seat.

in paige’s table.

she smiled knowingly, already anticipating the craze that is their fans, knowing that some of them doubted she would be there. she was excited to stir chaos, to send the clear message that she’s been by her girlfriend’s side and she’s here to stay. that no matter where she goes, she’ll always be close to follow.

her name wasn’t being called yet, but she looked like the proudest person in the room when paige’s was.

but to her surprise, as the night settled down and they returned to paige’s hotel room, it still wasn’t enough.

she remembers being tangled up in hotel sheets, bare underneath the covers as she ran her fingers through her tussled hair. the night had been nothing but hectic, and she half expected paige to pass out by the time they entered their hotel room with the amount of media, socialisation, and tequil shots she had downed in celebration of her draft night.

safe to say, the night had in fact not gone down that road, and instead ended with paige’s hands wandering and azzi not being able to resist.

cause who was she to deny her number one pick girlfriend? she couldn’t – not when she wanted it just as much. not when paige mouthed at her neck, whispering thanks and gratitude and confessions in a way that made azzi’s heart skip a beat and ignited a warmth in her stomach. she remembers the way paige had glanced up at her from between her legs, looking up as if she was the one who had been drafted. she remembers the gentleness, the passion, and the silent promises between each kiss and each release.

“you okay there baby?” paige had said as she exited the bathroom, her loose button up long gone as she climbed into bed again, quickly wrapping azzi into a warm embrace as she breathes in her scent.

“hm.” she hummed, setting down her phone by her pillow. she was scrolling through social media while paige had gone to clean up, and much to her dismay, her message still wasn’t clear to some.

she reached up to plant a soft kiss to her girlfriend’s lips. “saw some people saying we were ‘bff goals.’” she scrunched her nose, bringing a quiet giggle from paige.

“is that a bad thing?” paige laughs softly, brushing away azzi’s hair to kiss her forehead.

azzi gasped.

“what kinda best friend sits at a draft table and gets hugged first?” azzi shook her head, as if personally offended. “i am very obviously your girlfriend, thank you.”

paige just laughs, eyes fond as azzi sinks deeper in her embrace.

“let’s try again then.”

–

she’d kept the hints going, subtle but steady, while paige threw herself into her rookie season.

likes on tiktok edits, continuously coming to her games, even helping paige settle in texas barely a day after they had been “separated.”

the big one came unexpectedly, on a regular thursday afternoon.

she’d been cleaning her room, hair pulled up and sleeves rolled to her elbows, with paige propped up on facetime. on screen, paige was standing in front of her bathroom mirror, rambling about practice and the new weight room, her voice bright as she pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail.

azzi half-listened. mostly, she stared.

her eyes were fixed on the way paige’s biceps flexed when she tightened her ponytail. the gloss of her lips as she applied balm. the arch of her brow as she talked, animated and glowing.

“ma, you good?” paige smirked when she realised azzi was no longer listening, laughing at the glossy look in azzi’s eyes. “something distracting you?”

azzi coughed and rolled her eyes, though the blush creeping up her neck gave her away. “just admiring what’s mine, that’s all.”

paige smiled, almost shy as her cheeks tint a pretty shade of pink at her girlfriend’s possessiveness. “i miss you, baby.”

azzi’s smirk faded, replaced with something heavier. her voice dropped to a murmur as she sat on the edge of her bed. “i miss you more, p. it’s not the same here without you.”

paige pouted, like she felt it in her chest too. “it’s weird seeing you more on a screen again. i’m so used to just walking downstairs when i missed you.”

“now it’s six hours and a flight just to hug you for a day,” azzi sighed.

paige pouts even harder, sighing dramatically. “i just miss my girl. you’ve been looking too damn fine in my jersey. you trying to kill me?”

and that’s when it hit her.

azzi shot up, rummaging through the clutter on her desk—books, lip gloss tubes, tangled chains – until she found it.

she held up the delicate silver necklace, triumph written all over her face. a small heart charm beside a number 5.

“baby,” paige laughed, eyes lighting up. she knew that face. “what are you planning?”

“you’ll see.” azzi smirked.

see if they can deny this now.

spoiler: they can.

–

the tiktok blew up instantly – a dancing video with suni and anna. but that wasn’t what caught people’s attention.

no, it was the subtle glint of silver that caught the light every time azzi moved, delicate, gleaming, and undeniably there.

from the second the video went live, suni and anna had teased her relentlessly, eyebrows raised, smirks smug.

“oh they’re gonna eat this up,” anna said gleefully as she posted it, watching the likes skyrocket in real time. and azzi beamed, half proud, half smug.

suni leaned over her shoulder with a knowing grin. “you really wore that necklace for this?”

azzi shrugged smugly, beaming like the mastermind she was. “they better catch on this time.”

she thought this was it. they had to get it now.

and for a while, it seemed like they had. comments poured in. likes exploded. azzi refreshed the app every few minutes, heart racing, already imagining the thinkpieces, the ship edits, the finally, we have confirmation!! tweets.

but a few hours later, when she opened her phone, her jaw dropped.

comments flooded in:

“i wear my best friend’s number too lol”

“okay but this could still be platonic?”

“my bestie gave me a necklace like that 🥰”

what the fuck.

azzi slammed her phone face-down onto her bed, letting out a long, dramatic groan.

“you’re fucking lying.” she muttered under her breath, already on her feet and storming down the hallway to kk’s dorm with one mission in mind: complain. violently.

she flung the door open without knocking, mouth open and rants waiting to spill out when she heard it.

paige’s voice, warm and amused, drifting from kk’s phone screen.

“hey, fudd,” kk grinned, turning the phone to reveal paige’s face, all soft lighting and softer smiles. her girlfriend brightens up immediately, smiling that soft smile reserved only for her.

“hey, babe,” paige greeted. but her smile faltered as soon as she took in azzi’s stormy expression.

“uh oh. what happened?”

“oh, you know,” azzi drawled dramatically, flopping down on the edge of kk’s bed like the world’s most exhausted gay. “just the fucking allegations.”

kk blinked. “azzi. they can’t be allegations if you’re actually dating.”

“nah,” paige cut in, already catching on. she chuckled, leaning closer to the camera. “by allegations, she means best friend allegations.”

a beat of silence.

and then kk howled with laughter, doubling over as azzi swatted her shoulder.

“it’s not fucking funny.” she whined, ignoring how paige smiles fondly, eyes crinkling and bright.

“how are we still getting best friend allegations?” azzi rambled, pacing now. “i sat at her draft table. i’ve been in texas more in the last two weeks than my own parents’ house. i’m literally wearing her number around my neck like a promise ring.”

kk wipes a tear that escaped her eyes as she catches her breath, “you kill me, genuinely.”

“shut the fuck up kk.”

“okay, okay,” she wheezed, holding up her hands in surrender. “just be more obvious, then. you know how the internet is. unless you’re holding up a giant neon sign that says ‘i’m in a gay relationship with paige bueckers’ they’re gonna think y’all braid each other��s hair while you watch love island .”

“should i tattoo it on my forehead?” azzi deadpanned. “i’m dating paige bueckers across my fucking hairline?”

“i’d be down,” paige chimed in helpfully.

azzi shot her a look.

paige grinned sheepishly. “sorry.”

kk just rolled her eyes for what had to be the fifth time. “no one said that. just make another tiktok. with paige this time. don’t you literally have a visit planned soon?”

azzi groaned again but nodded, slumping down into kk’s desk chair with a dramatic exhale.

“fine. i guess i’ll try again.”

“aww.” paige cooed at azzi’s jutted lip, clearly dejected at her failed attempt at yet another hard launch. “don’t worry babe, we can do that trend you’ve been wanting.”

azzi’s head snapped up, a hopeful smile dancing on her lips, “really?”

“of course, baby,” paige said, voice low and warm, and if azzi had been any closer, back in her arms where she belongs, she would’ve kissed her silly on the spot.

“ew, gross.” kk gagged, “this feels like watching my parents kiss.”

azzi flipped her off without even looking, already envisioning the tiktok that would put rumours to rest. hopefully. maybe.

they’d stop calling it platonic.

–

the restaurant was bustling with quiet noise – the clink of silverware against ceramic, the soft murmur of conversations blending with occasional bursts of laughter. dim lighting bounced off polished wood and wine glasses, casting everything in a warm glow. it was perfect, not because of the fragrant waft of food everywhere, (although that did help) but because she was here, with her again, back where she belongs.

they were sat on a spacious round table. and even though they were in the middle of the restaurant, surrounded by people and different conversations, azzi barely heard the hum of the world around her.

all she heard was paige.

“and then nai says it’s because i’m pale like casper the ghost. what does that have to do with anything?” paige sighed mid-rant, her hands animated as she recounted something that happened during shootaround, her voice trailing into another tangent about a meme she saw that morning.

and azzi would like to think she was a great girlfriend. she’d say she was attentive and ready to listen. but right now, with her girlfriend so soft and so close to her again? she couldn’t help but stare.

she was watching. warm eyes fixed on paige’s every expression. the way her nose scrunched when she laughed, the way her lashes fluttered when she looked down at her plate, the way her voice softened just slightly whenever she said azzi’s name.

god, it’s sickening how in love she was. maybe kk did have a point.

paige leaned forward suddenly, noticing the face her girlfriend had when she was in her head again. reaching across the table, she laced their fingers together. like it was the most natural thing in the world.

and it was.

her thumb brushed slow circles into the back of azzi’s hand as she watched azzi register her gentle actions.

“anyways,” paige said, a little quieter, a little gentler. “how are you doing, baby? still bothered about the rumours?”

azzi sighed before she could help it, spine straightening at the mention of the issue. paige laughed softly, lifting their hands and pressing a kiss to the smooth skin just below azzi’s knuckles.

“you have no idea.” azzi rolled her eyes, softening slightly at the affection. she fished her phone out to show her girlfriend a screenshot of the many tweets and tiktok comments. “look. best friend, former team-mate, anything but girlfriend. it’s ridiculous!”

a blur of screenshots filled the screen as paige squinted. tweet after tweet, tiktok after tiktok, each one circled or underlined in red like she was building a case. best friend. former teammate. “normal friendship between girls.” platonic. platonic. platonic.

paige cackled at a particular comment. “yall reaching. i look at my best friend the way paige does and we’re not dating.” she read aloud, biting her lip to stop a very inappropriate laugh from escaping.

“someone tell her…” paige started shakily, “if she looks at her best friend the way we look at each other…”

azzi’s hands shoot up to cover her mouth, knowing her girlfriend’s next words.

paige was near tears. “they’re probably-”

“gay.” azzi deadpanned, snickering into her hands as she tried to remain quiet.

paige didn’t even try, doubling into a loud laughter as she hid her face from curious stares.

“gay,” she repeated, muffled into her palms, before peeking back up at azzi with tear-glossed eyes and the widest grin. “god, i love you.”

azzi just huffed, still scrolling. “tell that to the internet.”

she opened tiktok on azzi’s phone, still in her hand with a sly grin. “wanna make it now?”

azzi’s eyes brightened instantly, nodding animatedly as paige leaned in to plant a soft kiss on her forehead.

—

they filmed it first try – azzi tilted her head, eyes wide with innocence. “how much was it?” she mouthed.

paige looked exasperatedly at the camera. “two hundred dollars.”

azzi let out a cute little gasp, a soft smile contrasting paige’s reaction. “that’s not bad!”

azzi could barely contain the shake of her body as she cackled at the slow motion of paige’s reaction. they both cracked up the moment the audio cut, laughter bubbling as paige nuzzled her face into the crook of the younger’s neck. they rewatched it ten times before even moving, paige pointing out how soft azzi looked in her sweater and her innocent smile.

“they gotta get it this time.” paige reassured as azzi typed up her caption.

princess treatment everytime i’m with her. 😇💗 #spoiled

then she hit post.

hard launch.

again.

they got up to stroll to paige’s car, scrolling through the initial reactions. thousands of likes, comments, even videos in response to the tikok flooded in almost initially. paige peeked over azzi’s shoulder as they sat, scrolling, her free hand still tangled with azzi’s.

“see ma?” paige murmured against her ear. “i think they really get it this time.”

azzi beamed, sliding into the passenger seat and sighing at the familiar scent of paige’s car. her favourite car freshener, her laundry detergent, the faintest whiff of her favorite perfume. Home.

“finally,” she whispered, curling into her seat with a grin.

princess treatment indeed.

but later that night, after dinner and after kisses and after laughter faded into quiet, they lay on paige’s couch. azzi was nestled between her legs, back pressed to paige’s chest, scrolling aimlessly on her phone while paige mindlessly played with the end of one of her braids.

“babe?” azzi asked quietly, tone dull.

“hm?” paige kissed her temple.

wordlessly, azzi flipped her phone around and shoved it in her face. paige stared, blinked, then winced.

“oh fuck, you were serious.”

–

“i know that look.” kk narrowed her eyes, watching azzi through the mirror as she twisted her curls into place, securing them with quiet precision.

soft music flowed from kk’s speaker, the low hum of kk’s r&b playlist mixing with the gentle clatter of makeup brushes. paige had a game in connecticut today, and they had decided to get ready together before boarding the team bus to the game.

“whatsoever do you mean, kamorea?” azzi asked, tone syrupy and suspiciously innocent. she didn’t even look up, just kept applying mascara to thick, long lashes that fluttered innocently.

kk squinted, reading between every single line. “nah, don’t play. you’re gonna do something to ruin the internet again aren’t you?”

a smile.

“maybe.”

kk shivers.

–

they had finished the game with a high. dallas took the victory as the crowd went wild – paige had once again scored the most points within the team and god she felt like floating. she exuded an electric energy, that dizzying, dazed smile stretched across her face as her eyes scanned the crowd, searching.

they land on azzi. always azzi.

always azzi, cutting through the overwhelming noise and cheer. it was cheesy to think, but it genuinely felt like those cheesy rom-com movies azzi adored, even years in their relationship. the roar of the arena faded to a hum when their eyes met, and paige’s smile softened like it always did. like she only saw her.

they were ushered out quickly once the game wrapped, fans still screaming, staff buzzing. azzi and kk lingered back in a hallway as the crowd thinned. kk had been filming a vlog the entire day, azzi giggling into the camera, cheeks hurting from smiling as they goofed around, waiting for them to be allowed back to the venue.

“hey, y'all can come back in now.” a staff member had said, halting kk’s rambling to her phone.

“thank you!” kk replied politely before turning to the vlog, tone changing in an instant. “guys, we’re about to go see paige bueckers!” she squealed dramatically like a fan, making azzi roll her eyes and laugh.

kk skipped to paige’s side the second they stepped in, faking stage fright with exaggerated gasps, wringing her hands as paige blinked at her, amused. still, a slow yet fond smile stretched across the blonde’s features at her friend’s theatrics.

she opened her arms, inviting an embrace as kk squealed and jumped into a hug, acting like she’d won a contest. azzi giggled from behind the camera, heart swelling when paige’s eyes flicked up to find hers, warm and instinctive. she opened her mouth to probably call her over for a quick peck before noticing the camera, tilting her head in a silent question.

azzi mouths “she’s vlogging.”

paige nods swiftly in understanding, wrapping her arms around kk as she rants about her first tech. azzi couldn’t help but swoon, heart softening at how paige was just glowing. she was radiant even after a tough game, so full of life as she interacted with the team. everyone adored her, loved her in a way that only pure adoration and respect could bring.

she doesn’t even wanna know how googly-eyed she looked right now, admiring her girlfriend, thinking of everything they went through. years of hiding everything, their affection, their love for each other.

and suddenly, azzi had had enough.

she was not about to sit quietly while the world missed the entire point of the most important thing in her life.

and she knew exactly what to do.

–

she rummaged around her suitcase, looking for the item paige had gifted her months ago.

the phone case.

it was a joke, really. they had been scrolling through social media when paige started giggling at her phone – a case a fan had designed.

“look at this, baby,” paige had grinned, tilting the screen as azzi took a peek. “some fan really made this.”

it was obnoxiously pink, bold letters stamped across it like a headline.

“excuse me,” azzi had scoffed, pouting dramatically. “position’s already filled, thanks.”

but paige had only laughed harder, tapping on the link to buy it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. she bit her lip to stifle her giggles as she silently ordered it, filling in her details with a mischievous smile. it didn’t take long for suspicious silence to get noticed by azzi though, gasping when she saw the screen.

“the fuck?” azzi gasped as paige snickered. “paige.”

“it’s for you,” paige said sweetly, azzi widening her eyes sassily. “you’re welcome.”

“fuck no.”

now though, azzi had never been more thankful for a phone case. “thank the lord for a weird girlfriend.” she muttered under her breath, snapping it onto her phone with a click and smirking as the lettering caught the light. bright pink. unmissable.

so, expect a lil something today.

the three bubbles appeared almost instantly, azzi smiling at how fast paige responded despite her being at practice.

should i be scared?

azzi giggled, biting back a laugh as she typed:

perhaps i’m using the phone case.

a pause.

the phone case? the one you swore you’d never touch?

maybe.

azzi typed with a smirking emoji, giggling as paige replied with a thousand shocked face emojis.

game time.

–

she was getting dolled up with her stylist when she decided to snap the picture. skin glowing from glam, hair curled to perfection by her stylist, the light hitting her skin just right. and yeah, maybe it was intentional that her legs looked perfect in the picture, almost distracting from the actual purpose.

the phone case clear as day with bright pink letters – a loud and proud declaration.

paige bueckers’ girlfriend.

“you menace,” hayley smiled, peeking over her shoulder as azzi typed out the caption.

azzi smirked, cheekbones sharp and eyes playful as she posed one last time in the mirror. “it gets to a point,” she sighed, tossing her hair dramatically, “where i’m like, maybe i do need to spell it out for them.”

hayley laughed, running her hands through curls gently, nodding in agreement. “baby, you’ve spelled it, shouted it, danced it, and now you really put it out there in bright pink letters.”

“real.” azzi nodded in agreement, looking over the story one last time.

post.

and then she waited.

the notifications came in like an avalanche: shocked emojis, screaming replies. fan edits already popping up her for you page with another taylor swift song. she tried not to let her hopes up too much, knowing the pattern from her previous attempts. still, she let herself breathe, heart thumping in her chest like she’d just sprinted across a court.

a buzz cuts through her thoughts, bringing a soft smile to her face.

paige bueckers’girlfriend huh?

azzi could already imagine the proud smirk on paige’s face, fingers dancing across the screen to reply.

you lucky woman.

paige’s reply came instantly.

god, i agree.

and just like that, azzi felt the warmth rush to her cheeks, biting her lip as she tried to calm the way her chest fluttered. she bit her lip, fighting down the stubborn blush paige still managed to coax from her, setting her phone down as she fanned her face. she glanced at hayley, who was definitely watching.

“don’t.” she warned, burying her face in her hands.

“you’re so in love.”

it was a simple sentence. one she’d heard multiple times from fans, friends, and family alike. she heard it when they posted a picture, played a game together, went to a family event together, or when a friend caught them staring at each other for too long. it was written in the way she and paige looked at each other, or in every quiet hug after a tough game, every stolen glance across a crowded room. yet, she couldn’t help but think back to everything – how it had started between them, and how this giddiness had yet to fade. she had a sneaking suspicion it never will.

because it was true. it was real, and it was theirs.

and maybe that was enough, the sure feeling she had when they made eye contact in a crowded room, the softness of paige’s touch even after a rough game, the unwavering support of the people around her and the fans.

that was enough.

she looked at the mirror, still smiling.

“yeah,” azzi whispered, almost to herself.

“i really am.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi fic

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tomezatos · 1 day ago

Text

[Transcript of an omake from Mob Psycho 100:

Reigen: Ah, how's that lawyer I introduced you to? Has it been done? I see... your sender information disclosure request to the provider has gone through. I'm glad with that. The school has no choice but to acknowledge bullying is actually happening. No, no... I just thought it was odd that a child would be sent alone to a haunted location in the first place... I'm glad he came to us for advice on this. Exorcisms are easy, what's truly scary is what goes on between living people. ...No, no, it's me who's overstepped their bounds... He's enthusiastic about this, is he? Naturally. He had the guts to go into an abandoned building, after all. Alright, please call again if there's anything you need.

Serizawa: Who was that?

Reigen: Some primary school kid stopped by here on his way home. There was something off, so I asked him what was happening and found out there was some bullying going on. So... as a spirit specialist, I contacted the families of each kid. Feigning that I'd like to talk to some of the people involved in what looks like a scary haunting. I tried to talk to them, but their parents got upset with me. The bullies showed no sign of remorse. Staff at the school didn't even investigate the bullying. Not only that, they dismissed the fact it was a daily occurrence. That got under my skin... So I went searching through social media and found some excessively slanderous posts sitting on a secret website for that primary school. That's where our counter-offensive begins.

Serizawa: I was bullied at primary school as well.

Shigeo looks at him.

Reigen: Really?

Serizawa: Yes. In many ways...

Shigeo: What kind of primary schooler were you, Serizawa-san?

Serizawa: I... didn't have any friends, I guess. I gave people the creeps... I wouldn't move from my desk during break time. Not ever. How about you, Kageyama-kun?

Shigeo, thinking hard about this: I... tried my best not to use my powers at school. So I was often scared. Looking back, I suppose I was also bullied.

Reigen: ...Kind, introverted people are easy targets... You guys weren't weak, but there were truly weak people who took advantage of your nature... How annoying... I guess it can't be helped that the two of you were so reserved, but it is a shame. You guys could have had popular and rosy childhoods depending on how you used your powers. Well, doesn't matter how many times I tell you guys this, it just doesn't click.

Serizawa: So how was your primary school life, Reigen-san?

Reigen: Mine? It was, uh, very... fulfilling.

Shigeo: Fulfilling?

Serizawa: I imagine you felt like the center of the class, unlike us, right?

Reigen: Y... yup, center, sure... I feel like my seat was in the middle of the classroom?

Shigeo: Where you sat is irrelevant, no?

Reigen: Well, uh... Rather than being a leader, uh... I more had a charisma that made me stand out... I'd look deeply into things and act on them...?

Serizawa: Wow! So do your classmates from back then still rely on you?

Reigen seems to fall into despair.

Reigen: Er... well, my charism was more if-you-know-you-know, you know... If-you-don't-know-you-don't-know...?

Neither Serizawa nor Shigeo understand this.

Serizawa: I'd like to hear a story from back then.

Reigen: Well... to be specific? I put a lot of emphasis on tackling social issues? Rather than school life... yes, like volunteering? ...Which was valuable in teaching me independence? And influenced my current personality? Even though I was in primary school, my childhood was a nurturing time for me. There is evidence? To suggest that my time in at primary school was fulfilling? It is indeed not an exaggeration but a...

Serizawa: That's amazing! I respect that! Even as a child, you were already such a dependable person.

Shigeo: That's the first time I've heard this but that's really amazing. To think there are primary schoolers as self-aware as you were, Shishou. I'm jealous of your classmates.

This reaction makes Reigen sit at his desk, feeling small and ashamed.

Later, he is wearing a track suit and squatting down to collect trash at the park with a pair of tongs. Text reads, "After seeing their reactions, Reigen began looking for ways he could help."

End transcript]

Mob Psycho 100 NEW Omake⑩ - ENG

The new omake posted by ONE (aka ‘Bullied & Such Consultation Office’) on 2022/12/07 is now translated and typeset - the latter done by @lesbianlarxene over on Twitter.

#display of incredible kindness and responsibility towards children from reigen #immediately followed by inability to express any emotional vulnerability whatsoever without spitting out a college app essay #NEW REIGEN OMAKE OF ALL TIME JUST DROPPED!!!!!!!#reigen #serizawa #shigeo #shigeos ''where you sat is irrelevant no'' = directly telling him to drop the BS. another win for mob snark nation #long post

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dontrllycaretbh · 1 day ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Title: Dripping offense

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: explicit sapphic content (18+), spit kink, first-time touch, mutual masturbation, dom!Azzi / sub!Paige dynamics, fingering, soft praise, erotic vulnerability, flushed confessions, breathy tension, years of longing, slow unraveling of innocence, first orgasm, squirt mention, unspoken love, emotional safety in a physical moment

Word count: 4,111 words

Summary:

In a quiet hotel room after the game, Paige admits she’s never kissed anyone—never even touched herself. Azzi doesn’t laugh. She listens. She guides. And in the soft hush between them, curiosity turns into trust, and trust into something wetter, deeper, harder to name.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The hotel room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. The muffled sounds of teammates down the hall—laughing, arguing over snacks, bumping music—were just white noise now. Paige was sitting cross-legged on the bed, still in her Uconn warm-ups, her hair tied up in a messy bun. Azzi was lying on her side across the other bed, propped up on one elbow, scrolling half-heartedly through her phone.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The game had ended hours ago, but their adrenaline hadn’t quite faded yet.

“You ever think about… like, what your life would be like if you weren’t an athlete?” Paige asked, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Azzi looked up from her phone. “Yeah. All the time actually.”

Paige laughed. “You’d be like a really intense librarian or something.”

Azzi raised a brow. “You think I give off librarian vibes?”

“You give off…organized chaos. Like you’d run a super strict library but still sneak your friends in after hours.”

“That’s fair.”

The conversation drifted for a bit. They talked about music, what classes they hated the most, and how the hotel had the weirdest vending machine options. Then it got quiet again. A different kind of quiet.

Paige sat up, hugging a pillow to her chest. She looked hesitant, like she was weighing something in her mind.

Azzi noticed. “What?”

Paige bit her lip. “…Can I tell you something? Kinda personal?”

Azzi rolled over to face her completely. “Of course.”

Paige looked visibly embarrassed, and was blushing a little bit. Her face turned red, and she looked like she really didn’t want to admit what was coming next. “…Um…n-neither…neither a girl nor a boy…I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Azzi blinked, then smiled gently. “Oh.”

“I mean—not like I didn’t want to. I just…never really found the right time. Or the right person,” Paige said quickly, her words rushing. “And I guess I’ve always been kinda awkward and shy. It’s not like I

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about it,” Paige continued, her voice quiet, eyes darting down to her hands. “I’ve just… I don’t know. I’ve always felt like I had to focus on basketball, or school, or whatever else was right in front of me. And whenever it came to, like… relationships, or stuff like that—I just froze.”

Azzi nodded, sitting up slightly on her bed, giving Paige her full attention. There was no teasing in her expression, just quiet understanding.

Paige exhaled shakily, clearly relieved to have finally said it aloud. “And yeah, if I’ve never kissed anyone… I guess that means I haven’t… you know.”

Azzi tilted her head, just watching Paige softly.

“…Had sex,” Paige clarified, flustered. Her face turned even redder. “Not with a guy. Not with a girl. Not with anyone.”

There was a long pause before Azzi finally broke it with a warm, careful voice. “Paige, that’s not weird.”

“It feels weird,” Paige said quickly. “I mean, who goes to college, commits to Uconn, and still hasn’t even had their first kiss? Everyone always talks like they’ve done everything already and I’m just sitting here pretending to know what they’re talking about.”

“You’re not behind. You’re just… on your own timeline.” Azzi smiled softly, leaning forward. “There’s no checklist. No deadline.”

Paige looked at her, visibly trying not to tear up—not from sadness, but from the safety she felt in Azzi’s calm, grounding voice. “It’s just lately… I’ve been feeling kind of lonely. Like, not just physically—emotionally too. I’ve started noticing things. Thinking about things more. Like… wondering what it’d be like.”

Azzi stayed silent, letting her speak.

“I’ve seen stuff on TV or in movies—people kissing, being close, touching each other—and I never used to care. But now, I don’t know… I’ll see something and think, ‘That looks nice. I wonder what that feels like.’” She swallowed. “I’ve just never wanted to try it. Not with anyone. Until now.”

There was a beat.

Azzi’s eyes met hers. “Until now?”

Paige’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Yeah…with you.”

The silence hung heavy now, not uncomfortable—but charged with something delicate. Paige looked like she wanted to crawl under a pillow and disappear, but also like she’d just jumped off a cliff and was waiting to land.

Azzi didn’t look away. Her voice was gentle, but direct. “You excite me in ways I didn’t expect, too,” she admitted. “And I don’t want you to feel ashamed about anything you haven’t done. You’re not missing anything. You’re just starting to explore what you want.”

Paige gave a nervous smile, eyes still a little glassy. “There’s…one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never even…” Paige trailed off, her face going scarlet now. “I’ve never touched myself.”

Azzi blinked, surprised—not in judgment, but in the raw honesty of the moment. “Like, ever?”

Paige shook her head, quickly. “Nope. I don’t know. It just never felt like something I needed to do. Or maybe I was scared I wouldn’t know how. Or feel weird afterward. I don’t know.”

Azzi hesitated, then sat up straighter, choosing her words carefully. “Can I…maybe guide you? Not touch you—just talk you through it. If you want. Only if you want.”

Paige looked stunned by the offer, but also like a weight had been lifted from her chest. She nodded shyly, holding her breath. “I think I do. I trust you.”

Azzi smiled softly, her voice steady but warm. “Okay. First thing… lie back. Just breathe for a second. This isn’t about performing. It’s just you getting to know your body. Don’t rush anything.”

Paige followed her voice, nervously lying back against the pillows. Her breathing was a little shaky, but she was listening.

“You don’t even have to go anywhere near…there, right now. Just start by touching your stomach. Let your hands explore. Think of it like learning how to be comfortable in your own skin.”

Azzi kept her voice low and soothing, making sure Paige was calm, checking in with her eyes, her body language. There was no pressure. Just guidance. Comfort. Trust.

“You move at your own pace. You stop whenever you want. There’s no right way to do this.”

Paige exhaled slowly, closing her eyes, one hand resting lightly on her own stomach now. Her face still burned red, but there was something new there too—peace. Curiosity. Safety.

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Just breathe, Paige," Azzi said, her voice a smooth melody in the quiet. "Let your hand wander a little further down."

Paige's hand shakily traced the path from her navel to the waistband of her shorts, her skin tingling with anticipation. Her eyes remained shut, her mind racing with thoughts of the unknown. This was the closest she'd ever come to this kind of intimacy, and it was with someone she never thought would be the one to guide her through it.

"Take your time," Azzi coaxed, her voice a warm embrace. "There's no rush."

Her hand slipped beneath the fabric, and Paige's breath hitched. The soft hairs of her core met her fingertips, and she paused for a moment, unsure. The sensation was weird but somehow familiar.

"It's okay," Azzi whispered. "You can go slower."

Encouraged, Paige's hand slid further down, her fingertips grazing the slick folds of her core. She gasped, the sensation electric. It was as if she'd just found the key to unlocking a secret garden.

"Now, I want you to be really honest with me," Azzi instructed. "Does it feel good?"

"yeah…fuck" Paige murmured, the word slipping out before she could think to hold it back. "It feels... really good."

"Good," Azzi said with a smile in her voice. "Now, I want you to get a little wetter."

"How?"

"Use your saliva," Azzi suggested. "Spit into your palm and rub it over your hand."

The idea of it was strange, but Paige was eager to please. She opened her eyes to see Azzi watching her with a gentle curiosity, and the sight of her friend's encouragement bolstered her courage. She did as she was told, the wet sound of her spit hitting her palm echoing in the stillness.

"Now," Azzi continued, "Spread it over your fingers. It'll make it easier."

With trembling hands, Paige did as she was instructed, her eyes never leaving Azzi's. The wetness was a new sensation, and she felt a thrill run through her as she touched herself more intimately.

"That's it," Azzi praised, her voice a purr of approval. "Now, let's see how it feels."

The tension grew with every second, every breath. Paige's body was a canvas of sensations, and she was painting a picture she'd never seen before. She was about to explore the deepest part of herself, and she had no idea wh

Her hand hovered over her core, the wetness of her saliva making her skin slick and slippery. With a deep breath, she touched herself for the first time.

"How does that feel?" Azzi asked, her voice low and soothing.

"Wet," Paige murmured, her eyes still closed. "Sensitive."

"Good," Azzi said, a smile in her voice. "Keep breathing. Keep going."

And so, Paige did, her fingertips exploring her folds, finding the spot that made her gasp and bite her lip. The room spun around her as she grew bolder, her movements becoming more deliberate, more sure.

"Your breathing is changing," Azzi noted. "That's good. It means you're getting closer."

The air grew thick with anticipation as Paige's breath quickened, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. Her hand grew more insistent, her thumb circling that magical spot that sent jolts of pleasure through her body.

"Do you want to go further?" Azzi asked, her voice a gentle whisper. "Or would you like me to show you?"

The question hung in the air, a silent invitation to see azzi in a way she’s never seen her before. But she knew she was ready. With a nod, she whispered, "I want you to show me."

Without breaking eye contact, Azzi stood up, the graceful movement of her body leaving Paige captivated. She reached down and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her own shorts, slowly sliding them down her toned legs. The fabric whispered against her skin as it fell to the floor, leaving her in nothing.

"Look at me," Azzi said, her voice a gentle command. "This is how it's done."

The sounds of wetness filled the room, a rhythmic symphony that grew more intense with every second. Azzi's legs were spread wide, giving Paige a clear view of the slickness that coated her folds, the way her fingers slid in and out with ease. It was mesmerizing, like watching a dance she'd never seen before.

"It's okay to be wet," Azzi said, her voice a little louder now, a little more urgent. "It's natural."

With that, Paige felt a strange thrill as she leaned over and spit into her palm again, the sound of it wetting her hand echoing in the quiet. She mirrored Azzi's actions, sliding her own hand into her shorts, feeling the heat and the wetness of her own desire.

They stayed like that, a silent tableau of exploration and curiosity, their eyes locked as they touched themselves in unison. The sound of their breathing grew louder, a symphony of want and need that filled the space between them.

"Look closer," Azzi whispered, her breathing ragged. "See how wet I am for you."

Paige leaned in, her heart racing. She could see the swollen flesh of Azzi's clit

"Does it feel good when I do this?" Azzi asked, her thumb brushing over her clit in a way that made her gasp.

"It does," Paige said, her voice a little shaky. "It feels... amazing."

"Then do it," Azzi told her. "Do it to yourself."

Their eyes never left each other's as Paige followed suit, her thumb finding that magical spot that seemed to hold all the answers she'd ever been looking for. The feeling was indescribable, and she couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

"Look how beautiful you are," Azzi said, her voice thick with arousal. "You're doing so well."

Encouraged by Azzi's words, Paige's eyes fluttered open, meeting her friend's gaze. The air was thick with a tension that was both uncomfortable and exhilarating. She could see the desire in Azzi's eyes, the way they searched hers for permission to take this further. And in that moment, she realized she didn't just want this to be about her anymore.

"Can I...can I do that for you?" she asked tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face. She leaned in, and Paige felt the warmth of her breath on her cheek. But instead of closing the distance, Azzi held back. "You can spit in my mouth," she suggested. "It's something I like."

Surprise flickered in Paige's eyes, but she felt a strange excitement at the idea. It was so intimate, so raw, and yet it didn't feel wrong. She leaned in, her own breath shallow and rapid. The first spurt of saliva was awkward, the sensation of her spit landing in Azzi's open mouth foreign and thrilling.

Their eyes remained locked as they shared this silent, erotic moment. It was a dance of trust and desire, a bond forming between them that went beyond friendship. The saliva mingled between their lips, but they didn't kiss—not yet.

"Now, I want you to do it to yourself," Azzi said, her voice a low purr.

Paige nodded, the act of spitting in Azzi's mouth somehow empowering. She leaned back against the pillows, her hand still buried in her shorts. She watched as Azzi mirrored her actions, her thumb moving in slow circles around her own clit, the wet sounds of their shared pleasure filling the room.

With a deep breath, Paige spit into her own palm, feeling a rush of heat to her cheeks at the sheer intimacy of it all. The saliva was a bridge between them, a shared experience that was both erotic and innocent. She brought her hand back to her core, the wetness making her movements smoother, more deliberate.

As they touched themselves in sync, the air grew thick with the scent of arousal. The sound of their breathing grew louder, their bodies moving in a silent rhythm.

The moment was a crescendo of sensation, each stroke of Paige's thumb against her clit a note in a symphony of pleasure. The wetness grew, their shared breaths turning ragged as they both approached the edge of something new.

"Keep going, Paige," Azzi urged, her voice tight with restraint. "You're almost there."

The encouragement spurred Paige on, her eyes still on Azzi's as she felt the tension coil within her. Her hand was a blur of motion now, her thumb pressing harder, faster. And then it hit—a wave so powerful, so unexpected, that she couldn't hold back a cry.

Her body convulsed, muscles tightening as she squirted, the wetness soaking her hand, the sheets beneath her. She'd heard about it, read about it, but to actually experience it was like nothing she could have ever imagined.

"Oh my God," she breathed, her eyes wide with wonder. "I just... I just did it fuck.”

The sight of Paige's pleasure was intoxicating, and Azzi could feel her own climax building. The sound of the wetness was like a siren's call, urging her own hand to move faster, more urgently.

"Keep watching me, Paige," she whispered, her voice strained with desire. "I want you to see how good it feels."

Her eyes remained locked on Paige's face as she leaned over, her fingers sliding out of her core. She reached for the wet spot on the bed where Paige's juices had soaked through, and without breaking eye contact, she brought the fabric to her lips.

The salty taste of the water mingled with the faint sweetness of the sheets, and she sucked the liquid into her mouth, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Paige's eyes widened, and Azzi knew she had her full attention.

"holy fuck azzi, that was the hottest thing ever” Paige murmured, her voice thick with awe.

The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, the act of sharing their pleasure in such a raw, primal way bridging the gap between them. Azzi felt a sense of belonging she hadn't known was missing.

"Do you like that?" Azzi asked, her eyes dark with lust.

"I do," Paige said, her voice shaky. "It's... it's really hot."

with Paige's response, Azzi leaned in closer, her tongue snaking out to lick at the damp fabric. The taste was faint, but it was enough to send another jolt through her.

"Keep watching," she whispered, her hand moving back to her own core, the need to want to put her own fingers there. "Keep watching”

Their eyes remained locked as they pleasured themselves, the room filled with the sounds of their shared passion. Paige watched as Azzi's fingers moved in and out of her core , her own hand mimicking the motion.

As the tension grew, so did the wetness, and Azzi felt the need to be closer—to share in this moment fully. She slid onto the bed, her own legs spreading to give Paige a better view. “you ready?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #azzi fudd #paige bueckers uconn #pazzi #uconn huskies #paige bueckers x reader #paige x azzi #azzi x reader #paige bueckers smut #azzi fudd smut #pazzi smut #pazzi is real #pazzi fics

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dissociativewriter · 20 hours ago

Text

Unnatural Affinity- Part 12

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 2.6k

cw: angst, very vague allusions to self harm, semi-crash out from em i guess (?), hurt/comfort technically, yearning tbh, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns (i try to avoid that but sorry), im getting really casual with these content warnings, mostly bc i think no one reads what i actually write up here

Synopsis: While you talk with Rafayel, Sylus gets a visit from someone he thought had disappeared. (i’m bad at synopses)

author’s note: this took me a little longer to put out so im sorry >_< im really looking forward to writing zayne next though! then caleb and then its reader and em again and its gonna get crazy and then im gonna put up a poll so y’all can decide how i end it! i hope y’all are excited lol im getting closer to the end and its making me kinda sad cause i love this series but i have multiple ideas for different series so i might have multiple ongoing after this <3

taglist: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @auraficial @plzdonutpercieveme @dolledbunnytail @junebuggz @mangooes @anatherone @skulzooka @yuhuahuaaa @nm4565natty @feikyuu @lunia-likes-pomegranet @xfangirl-trashx @glitterykingdomangel @eialovescats @mimiu3usoft @alyssac9 @000rpheus @novaisbebita @coffeedragonhobbyist @udejoenrlddo @lanxianschoenheit @paper--angel @xyzbeloved @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @myheartfollower @nightmarewasteland @feralwolfkat @junni-berry @chiikasevennn @lethalasylum @loudpiratepirate @sweetnightowl @rafaissance @white-wolves-and-golden-sunrises @iunse @asilaydead

Series Masterlist

Onychinus’s base was quiet. Its occupants were comfortably off fulfilling their own tasks, no last-minute crises disrupting them. An unexpected peace settled, though an air of anticipation filled the space.

Sylus had been eyeing the door since you left this morning. Just like he had when you left yesterday.

He knew he shouldn’t worry. He knew you could handle yourself.

He also knew he was going to worry anyway.

You came to him after your talk with Xavier last night, a serious, somber expression painted on. You were quiet at first, sorting through the conversation. He let you. You’d filled Sylus in then, just enough to keep him updated, to know everything was fine. He respected your privacy, the distance you kept with such a sensitive subject, though he wished you’d confide in him.

Allow him to give you shelter from the storm in your eyes.

You’d stopped him, before you left for bed. Told him not to worry. It was sweet of him, you’d said, but unnecessary. That he didn’t need to give Luke and Kieran a task as boring as watching you talk to Xavier, that you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

Sylus didn’t tell you that he knew that, too. He didn’t tell you that he wanted Luke and Kieran to watch you with Xavier to see if you were interested in him, interested in a way Sylus couldn’t compete with.

Instead, Sylus told you he’d let you be. Not before making you promise to tell him if something goes wrong, though. He’s only a phone call away, after all.

Even a panicked look to Mephisto would do.

You nodded, assuring him that he would be the first person you’d call if things went haywire.

He wasn’t quite sure if he believed you, but he relented nonetheless.

So, when you left the base early this morning, just as Sylus’s business day was ending, he’d told Luke and Kieran to simply drop you off where you asked, no need to watch you.

Of course, now his eyes hadn’t wandered from the front door.

Even as the dark circles under his eyes sunk deeper and his shoulders drooped, Sylus stayed. Waiting patiently.

He wasn’t sure when you’d be back. He just wanted to see you as soon as you were. Make sure you were okay under the guise of a smug smile and a teasing remark.

It wasn’t worth risking the raw vulnerability embedded in his worry if you had another man in your heart, after all.

The soft click of the back door pulled Sylus’s head up, listening carefully to the barely audible footsteps padding through the hallway behind him. Two sets, he noted. Luke and Kieran.

The tension in his shoulders relaxed again as he turned to see the two boys unceremoniously drop onto the couch.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep, Boss?” Kieran asked.

“I’m alright,” Sylus answered shortly.

“You sure, Boss-man?” Luke pushed. “Looks like the bags under your eyes could carry the weight of the world.”

Sylus stared at the twins. “Don’t you two have something better to do than worry about my sleeping habits?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Luke starts, sitting up. “I almost forgot why we came here.”

Kieran sighed. “We’re here to give you a report on the tracking.”

Sylus nodded. “Continue.”

“Looks like Em and Caleb have been staying at his apartment in Skyhaven since Little Boss came here. Haven’t been outside much,” Kieran explained.

“Yeah, they’ve just been holed up in there together. From what we could tell, things looked pretty tense,” Luke said. “But it was pretty much the same thing for a week. Except today. Em left early, about 7:30. Caleb left at 8:00. Went to the Fleet, a new mission or something. We couldn’t track him very far, too high of surveillance on the Colonel.”

“We could track Em after she left, though,” Kieran continued. “She boarded the Coelum Express at 8:00, arriving back in Linkon at 10:00. She first went to her apartment, where she checked every room before leaving. Then she went to the Hunter’s Association.”

“She went to her desk immediately, and she was stopped by Tara and Simone. They talked for about five minutes before Jenna called Em over,” Luke listed off. “Em reported on her most recent mission and then said she had to go. Then she went to Research, talking to Nero very briefly where he gave her very vague answers. Em then sought out Xavier, who seemed more worried about how panicked she looked then answering the questions she asked him.”

Sylus nodded. “Seems like everything’s following the plan,” he muttered. “Where is Em now?”

Kieran shifted on his feet. “That’s the thing, Boss,” he confessed. “We lost her.”

Linkon was incredibly lively.

Bustling streets filled with locals and tourists alike. The chatter rose, echoing through the city so that even the quietest corners were filled with the hum of connection.

It was overwhelming, to say the least.

You navigated the busy streets, wondering just how anyone could manage to live here permanently.

Wondering how the you from before you landed in Love and Deepspace did it.

You’d almost forgotten it, how this life wasn’t really your own. You were filling in the slot of a life already lived, already planned, that you had no recollection of.

Was that person from before really you? Or did you steal the life of another, taking what they deserved?

Feeling your chest tighten, you tried to focus on your breathing instead.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

It wasn’t like the feeling was new. On the contrary, you often felt like your life wasn’t really your own. Like it wasn’t real, you weren’t real. That all that you’d experienced before was just a precursor to what life really was, what it was supposed to be. Almost convincing yourself that the life you had couldn’t be real, because wasn’t life supposed to be more than that?

Maybe you were still that kid reading Narnia, waiting for a world at the end of the Wardrobe to find her.

You were almost getting better, you thought as you sat down at a cafe. Your hands itched at your thighs, the lengths you’d gone to feel real again a constant reminder.

But then you got dropped into Love and Deepspace. A world that, as far as you were concerned, was just a game come to life.

This wasn’t real, you told yourself. Which is why the fulfillment this life brought hurt all the more.

You thought of what Xavier had said when you told him. How he wasn’t really surprised.

That had caught you off guard at first, but it all clicked when you thought about it later.

Xavier hadn’t been your favorite Love Interest, but there was always something there you connected to. Something quiet, lurking there but not making a show out of itself.

Xavier was never really present, it felt. He was quiet, reserved, always lost in his mind or his dreams.

Always thinking of something else, always something taking his focus, never truly being in the moment.

It made sense he would almost expect a twisted reality, after all he’s seen.

But then you thought of what he’d said after.

It’s real to me. That’s enough.

You hadn’t understood at the time, hadn’t gotten how he could so easily live with that doubt.

How could you live with the possibility that this life might not completely be your own?

But maybe that’s what you were missing. That doubt is just a part of life. No one’s ever really sure, you thought, and that’s okay.

Our reality is what we make it.

It seems this is your reality now. If this is what you have, it’s time to make the best of it.

Sylus was now settled in his office, eyelids still feeling heavy as he watched the security screens. He watched as you made your way to Mo Art Studio, Mephisto patiently watching you from a distance. He wouldn’t know what you were talking about, but he could see if anyone laid a hand on you, and that was enough for him.

Luke and Kieran had run off to who knows where, to sleep or to prank Sylus didn’t know. It was negligible to him, what they did. They had limits, he knew, and he could clean up any messes they made.

It had been a while since their last prank, though, so Sylus kept an eye on the door behind him. He wouldn’t put it past them to do something now, especially since he’s so tired and out of his element.

Sylus didn’t flinch when the door slammed open. Didn’t flinch when his chair was aggressively pulled back from the desk.

What gave him pause was, instead, the click of heels against the floor.

The feeds were immediately cut, any glimpse of what they had shown gone as soon as the door opened.

A security measure Sylus was now thankful he’d implemented.

“Where is she?” Em hissed.

Sylus rose from his chair leisurely, letting out a deep breath. “I don’t know who you’re referring to.”

“You know damn well who I mean!” she exclaimed. “I saw Mephisto outside that morning. I shooed him away, but when I came back she was gone.”

“What a shame.” Sylus smirked. “If you’d let him be, he might have seen who took her.”

“I know it was you, Sylus, just admit it! I saw your stupid bird outside, and that same day she was gone!”

“And obviously, that means I took her.” Sylus raised an eyebrow.

“Well, who else would have?” she asked.

“Enlighten me,” Sylus sighed. “What reason would I have to take your little friend?”

“I don’t know,” Em groaned. “All I know is she’s gone. I—” Her breath caught, eyes watering ever so slightly. “I lost her,” she whispered. “And now I can’t find her.”

Sylus inhaled sharply, staying quiet for a few beats. “You lost her,” he began softly. “Have you ever considering she doesn’t want to be found?”

Mo Art Studio was bright, elegant, a seaside paradise. The soft crash of waves could be heard throughout the grounds, a view of the changing tides almost always visible. You checked your phone again, seeing Rafayel’s latest confirmation that it was okay for you to stop by. The gates in front of the studio were intricate and, most noticeably, open.

You hesitantly made your way through the grounds, stopping just before the front door. With a deep breath, you pushed it open, immediately met with the smell of paint, canvas, and seafood. Rafayel was easily spotted in the open floor plan, situated in an awkward position in front of a canvas.

“Great timing, cutie,” he said as he cast his paintbrush aside. “If I stayed in that position any longer, I’d probably be stuck like that.”

You chuckled as he stretched, white shirt opening slightly. You remained silent as he walked towards you, leaving down slightly to match your height.

“Now, cutie, why did you need to see me so urgently?” he asked.

“I’ve got something important to tell you,” you said, wringing your hands.

Rafayel straightened up. “Do you want to go walk on the beach for this?” He pointed back towards the opened French doors behind him.

Nodding, you took his hand as he led you out onto the sand.

You both discarded your shoes once you got off the boardwalk through the dunes, allowing the sand to shift under your bare feet. The incoming waves nipped at your heels as you took a deep breath.

“Do you remember the first time we met, that painting we were looking at?”

“Of course,” he nodded, “I loved that piece. So did you. But, it didn’t sell.”

“And you remember what you said about when you painted it? How that afternoon was really weird, like the universe was trying to fit in something new?”

Rafayel nodded again, the crease between his brows growing deeper.

“That afternoon was weird for me, too.” You exhaled. “See, I’m not from here, not like you are. I’m from a— a different world. I think that was what was weird about that day. It was me coming into this world.”

Rafayel stared at you. A few beats of silence passed. “So… so what? You’re saying there’s other worlds? Other dimensions? How did you even get here?” he sputtered. A deep sigh. “I knew something weird happened, I just didn’t think…”

“I don’t know how it happened. All I know is, I was there one moment, and the next, I was in Linkon,” you explained.

“Is it that Deepspace tunnel?” he muttered.

“There’s another thing,” you said sheepishly. “In my world, there’s this game, Love and Deepspace.” You tried to explain it slowly, carefully. You explained the events of the Main Story, everything that had happened that even he didn’t know all about. You left out the memories, the romantic moments stolen away that hadn’t happened yet.

You told him about the past lives, though, all that you knew. You watched as a myriad of emotions passed through his eyes, the ghosts of past loves haunting him.

“You know what’s going to happen, then? How it’s going to end?” he asked quietly.

“Not really,” you admitted. “I just know a lot about what has happened, even the things other people haven’t noticed.”

With barely a nod, Rafayel turned to the incoming ocean. Treading the water, his pants were soaked, up through the calf with salt staining the silken black.

“She had my heart,” he whispered, keeping his back to you. “I guess I never had hers, though.”

You took a step forward, the waves lapping at your legs. Pearls dropped, one by one, to the ocean, their tiny splashes becoming lost in the moving tides.

“Rafayel…” you began.

He turned to you, eyes bright and swirling like the eye of a hurricane. “She was never really going to be mine, was she? Not wholly, not completely.” He let out a dull, empty laugh. “Not in this life, not in the last, not in the next. I guess I was never really meant to have a love like that. All I get is something not meant to last, but something that can’t seem to let me breathe without aching.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking.

“Do you know… what happens to me? The bond, it’s still—”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know.”

“Then… did she ever really love me?” His hands trembled at his sides, the hurricane in his eyes nearly spilling out.

You rushed forward, taking your hand in his. “Of course she did,” you murmured. “She’s always loved you. I think she always will.” You laughed lightly. “I don’t know if it’s ‘meant to be’ like you say, but I think anyone would be foolish not to love you.”

Rafayel chuckled, looking back to the sun’s rays across the ocean before his gaze met yours again, leaning down once more so he was eye-level with you.

“Well, well, cutie. Does this mean you love me, too?” He grinned.

You glanced away, feeling your cheeks warm up. He moved next to you, pulling you against him with an arm around your shoulder.

Pressing a kiss to your hair, he whispered, “Thank you, cutie. That’s more than I need. She was never meant to willingly give me her heart. Maybe its time I find a new muse.”

comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3

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rainrot4me · 23 hours ago

Note

Ok, it's gotta be asked

What's the creeps' reaction to finding their partner dead?

Christ almighty this was difficult. They’re all so manic.

๑ Warning: Blood, death, mentions of dead bodies, grief

── .✦

✦ . jeff the killer

Jeff doesn’t register it at first. He blinks, blood on his hands, yours limp and cooling beneath him.

“Get up.”

He growls it like a command, shoving at your shoulder. When your head rolls lifelessly, his heart drops to somewhere in his stomach and rots there.

He doesn’t scream. He laughs. A broken, eerie cackle that spirals into silence. It’s too much.

Then he destroys everything around him—walls, bodies, himself—because if you’re gone, he’s not playing human anymore. He becomes a storm. A legend. A curse again. It’s a massacre to anything and anyone, especially himself.

✦ . ticci toby

It’s the stutter of your chest not rising that shatters him.

“No. No—no, no, no—”

He sobs with his whole body, the kind of noise that comes from someone who never thought they could still feel that much. He rocks you against his chest like a child, whispering apologies, begging you to wake up.

For weeks afterward, he’s silent. Hollow-eyed. He wears something of yours always—your bracelet, your shirt, a scrap of fabric tied to his wrist.

And every time he kills, he whispers your name. Like a prayer. Like revenge. Like if he makes enough sacrifices, something will bring you back to him.

✦ . eyeless jack

Jack kneels beside you, glove trembling as he checks for signs of life.

There’s none. He doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t move.

“…I could’ve saved you.”

It’s said quietly. Not in shock, but with pure, soul-draining grief. He touches your cheek gently, reverently, as if he’ll damage you further.

He buries you with his own hands. He finds the cleanest spot of soil he can, carves a grave marker from wood. And he returns to it, every day. He brings offerings. A trinket. A book you loved.

He doesn’t forgive himself. Not ever.

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Tim drops to his knees the second he sees your body. Everything stops—his heartbeat, his breath, the hum in his brain.

He checks your pulse over and over.

“Please. Don’t do this to me. Don’t… leave.”

He weeps against your body in bitter silence, not because he’s weak, but because the last string tethering him to the world just snapped.

For a long time, he doesn’t leave the room. He curls up beside your corpse until someone forces him out. After that, he disappears—into the woods, into himself.

When he comes back, he’s colder. Harder. More brutal than ever.

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

Brian stares. Still. Silent. Processing.

Then he goes very, very still.

“…Who did this?”

Because someone had to. You don’t just leave. Not from him.

He buries you without fanfare—neat, cold, methodical—but every night afterward, he lays in your spot on the bed and stares at the ceiling until morning.

When he finds the person responsible, it’s not a quick death. It’s slow. Precise. It stretches for days, their screams pulsing through the trees and sending birds retreating into the sky. Even still, it doesn’t make him feel satisfied.

He keeps your photo in his jacket pocket. And no one ever dares touch it.

✦ . kate the chaser

Kate panics. For the first time in years, she panics.

“No. No, no, no. Don’t do this. Not you.”

She shouts. Screams. Slaps your face trying to wake you. But you don’t respond. And it shatters her.

She doesn’t cry in front of anyone. She disappears with your body.

No one knows where she buries you. But her kill count triples afterward. She stops talking. Stops eating. Becomes a ghost with a knife.

Some say she whispers your name when she guts people. Every single time.

✦ . ben drowned

Ben glitches. Literally. The moment he sees you—mouth slack, body still—his form flickers.

“Haha. Good one. You’re fucking with me, right?”

When you don’t answer, he goes eerily quiet.

He respawns next to you over and over, rewinding time in-game just to see if there’s a timeline where you survive.

When he realizes there isn’t… he pulls your data from the world. Your online accounts. Your photos. Your voice. He stores it. Clings to it. Keeps your memory living inside the code. He shoves it all onto a 16-bit avatar and tries to recreate you, but it’s not enough.

He’ll never delete you. He’d delete himself first.

✦ . clockwork

Clockwork drops to her knees.

“I wasn’t fast enough.”

The sound she makes isn’t human. It’s too full of rage. Grief. Guilt.

She’d try CPR until her knuckles bruised, even if it was useless. Then she’d scream. Break things. Break herself.

And then she’d go hunting.

Whoever took you from her will be dissected piece by piece. No mercy. No forgiveness.

She’ll carve your name into her skin. Over her heart.

✦ . laughing jack

Jack freezes mid-laugh. The smile falls off his face when he sees your body—crumpled, quiet, wrong.

“That’s not funny.”

He stands over you, glassy-eyed. Then he kneels, touches your wrist, listens for breath. Nothing.

The lights in the room burst. Color drains from the air. The toys and things he collected for you burns.

He goes dark. No joy. No mischief. He becomes a nightmare again—because what’s a clown with no audience?

He still talks to you like you’re there, whispering jokes into the void. Hoping somewhere, you’re still laughing.

✦ . slenderman

Slender knows the moment your body goes still. His tendrils curl back. The woods go silent.

He does not speak. He does not mourn like mortals.

But the trees bend toward him, and the air thickens with grief.

He sees everything. But even he could not stop this.

He lifts your body like it weighs nothing and takes it somewhere sacred.

And if anyone was responsible—he erases them. Entirely. Not a trace left.

For months, birds fall dead from the sky, roots from trees pop out of the ground. There’s no sounds of nature, just the lull of insects feasting on dying animals. There’s no point of keeping a forest alive if there’s not someone there to enjoy it.

꩜ .ᐟ

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maskedbyghost · 3 days ago

Text

until the end and after that

note: written in third person, a bit emotional, a bit angsty, but a comforting ending

It began the way most things do, with almost no awareness that anything important was happening, just a crossing of paths between two people who should have passed each other without incident but didn’t, because something shifted in the world the moment their eyes met, though neither of them could’ve known it yet.

He was sitting at the edge of the pub, in the type of place that smelled faintly of beer-soaked floorboards and long-forgotten stories, the weight of the day heavy on his shoulders and his hands wrapped around a chipped glass, and she had only walked in because someone had recommended the fish and chips, not knowing that her whole life was about to take a turn.

They didn’t speak that first night. She noticed him, of course, because he had a presence that couldn’t be ignored no matter how much he tried to disappear into the shadows, and he noticed her too, because she didn’t seem to want anything from anyone in that room, least of all him, and something was calming about that.

She sat two stools down, ordered food with a smile, and stayed until the plate was clean and the sky had gone dark outside the window, and then she left without looking back, and he thought about her all night without understanding why.

It took three more visits for him to say something, just some comment about the weather, barely audible over the buzz of conversation, but it was enough to draw her attention and enough for her to offer a small reply, and from there it was slow, because both of them were too used to keeping people at a distance to know how to reach out without shaking.

But over the weeks and then months, she learned the way he liked his coffee and the small twitch at the corner of his mouth that meant something had amused him, and he learned how her brow furrowed when she read something she didn’t agree with and how she always tore the crust off her bread before eating the rest.

It was all so ordinary, and yet it became sacred, and without realizing it, they became part of each other's routines, then each other's memories, and then finally each other's lives.

He never officially asked her out. One night, after they’d talked for hours about things that didn’t matter, he walked her home and lingered by the door long enough that she looked up at him and smiled, and he just said, “I want to see you again,” and she nodded because she wanted that too.

From then on, they were together. He never called her his girlfriend, she never called him her boyfriend, and still everyone around them knew exactly what they were.

The day he told her who he really was came much later, after too many nights where he disappeared without warning and came back with shadows under his eyes and pain in his bones, and she didn’t ask until she had to because it was starting to wear her down, and when he finally spoke the truth, about the uniform, the missions, the things he couldn’t forget no matter how much he wanted to, she didn’t cry or ask him to stop, she just sat beside him and reached for his hand, not to comfort him, not to change anything, but because she didn’t want him to be alone with it anymore.

That was the night he realized he couldn’t lose her, and that was the night he started planning a future, even if it terrified him more than any war ever had.

He proposed on a rainy morning in their kitchen, while there was flour on her cheek and coffee going cold in their mugs, and there was no ring yet because he hadn’t gotten around to buying one, but he didn’t care because he couldn’t wait another second, and when she laughed and said yes with her hands in the dough, he thought maybe this was what peace felt like.

They got married six months later in a beautiful garden behind their house, with only a few people in attendance, and just promises spoken under their breath and the kind of kiss that feels more like a vow than any words ever could.

Years passed, not all of them kind, not all of them easy. There were arguments, silences, weeks apart, and moments where everything felt fragile and wrong, but there was always something stronger beneath it, something that kept pulling them back toward each other no matter how far they wandered.

He left for missions that took too long, she stayed behind with fingers crossed and heart heavy, and when he came home, they never talked about what could’ve gone wrong, only about what they still had.

They didn’t have children... maybe they tried and it didn’t work, or maybe they decided not to, but it never mattered to them, because they were enough for each other, more than enough, always.

He retired eventually, the weight of everything catching up to him in ways he couldn’t fight anymore, and they moved to a quieter place, somewhere with an even bigger garden and a porch and a dog that barked at nothing.

He spent his days fixing things, and she read books she’d never had time for before, and they still danced in the kitchen sometimes when the radio played something slow, and sometimes she’d catch him looking at her like he still couldn’t believe she’d stayed.

The sickness came for her first, sudden and cruel as always, and he sat beside her hospital bed with fingers clutching hers like they could keep her here longer. She didn’t cry, and neither did he, because by then they’d learned that tears were useless and love was the only thing that meant anything, and when she died, it felt like someone had ripped the heart out of the world and left everything else standing just to mock him.

He didn’t last long after that, though no one said it out loud. His body kept going, but he was already gone in every way that mattered. He visited her grave every morning with the same devotion he’d once shown her over breakfast, whispering things only she could understand, and when his time finally came, quietly in his sleep, with a worn photograph of her in his hand, there was peace in the way his chest stopped moving, because he wasn’t afraid anymore. He was just going home.

And somewhere else, somewhere beyond all the noise and grief and time, a little bell rang over a shop door, or a breeze stirred through a park, or a train stopped at the right platform at the right moment, and two people crossed paths again.

He saw her first.

“I’m Simon,” he said, not knowing why it mattered so much.

She tilted her head, something familiar stirring in her chest like the echo of a dream she couldn’t quite remember.

“I’m Y/N.”

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