#and maybe everything will be okay. just in a different way. maybe a better way. we'll see 💕

[bjlipss]

— i would love to go back to the old house;

★ synopsis: you and satoru make a promise to marry each other if you’re both still alone by thirty.

miyan’s notes: no curse au, no warnings, maybe some realness, just fluff and smut. wc: 3681.

you’re both seventeen, laying on the grass behind the school gym, where the sun’s dipped low enough to cast everything in a warm, golden haze.

it’s late spring—almost summer—and the scent of cut grass clings to your clothes, sweet and sharp. someone’s left a soccer ball abandoned a few feet away. the world feels lazy and endless, like nothing important could ever happen here.

you’re side by side, arms brushing but never quite touching, your pinkies just barely grazing sometimes when one of you shifts. satoru’s sunglasses are crooked on his face, and he doesn’t fix them. his white hair is fanned out messily over the grass, and there’s a blade of it stuck behind his ear. he hasn’t noticed.

he was dumped yesterday. you heard about it from someone else before he told you—his ex apparently said he was too much. too loud, too intense, too everything. it made you kind of furious, but you didn’t say that. you just sat with him today, like always.

your first real relationship ended last week. it wasn’t even dramatic. just two people slowly realizing they didn’t quite know how to hold each other anymore. still, it left a hollow feeling in your chest, one you’re pretending isn’t there.

he exhales, slow and dramatic. “you ever think we’re just… cursed or something?”

you snort. “that’s a little dramatic.”

“it’s me,” he says, turning his head toward you, and you can see the curve of a grin forming. “drama is my whole thing.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t say no. he quiets down again, goes back to staring at the sky with a look that’s a little more thoughtful than usual. birds are flying overhead in little staggered v’s, and there’s a faint breeze brushing your skin.

then, like it’s the most casual thing in the world, he says, “if we’re both single at thirty, let’s just marry each other.”

you blink. the silence after feels loud.

“what?” you laugh, eyebrows lifting. “what kind of pact is that?”

he shrugs, still looking up. “a realistic one. we already know each other’s worst habits. you can tolerate me. that’s rare.”

“you’re an idiot,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “but sure. yeah. a backup plan. solid.”

you mean it like a joke. like a throwaway thing. but then he turns his head toward you, and his glasses slide down his nose just enough that you can see his eyes—really see them.

“no,” he says. “i’m serious.”

you stare at him. he’s not laughing. there’s something oddly earnest in the way he says it, like he’s offering something fragile and important without realizing it. like a promise he doesn’t expect you to keep, but wants you to want to.

your heart does a weird thing. tightens. pulls.

you swallow. “okay. me too.”

neither of you says anything after that. the sun dips lower. the breeze picks up. the world moves around you, but for a moment, it’s just the two of you in that quiet stretch of time, young and bruised and hopeful.

your pinkies brush again.

this time, neither of you pulls away.

—

years pass.

at first, the promise is a soft, silly memory tucked into the back of your mind like a note in a locker you never emptied. you think about it sometimes—on your birthday, when your heart gets broken again, when you see a wedding invitation in the mail and wonder how people keep getting so lucky. the pact becomes a kind of quiet comfort, a lighthouse in the distance. not real, but there. always there.

you go to university. he does too. different cities, different people, different rhythms. you both grow into yourselves slowly, awkwardly, like plants reaching for light in the wrong season. you learn how to love better. how to walk away when you need to. how to be alone and not hate it.

you date people who are kind. people who challenge you. people who hurt you in ways that teach you something. some of them ask about him, the boy in the old photos, the one whose name still slips out when you’re tired or wine-drunk. you always brush it off, say he’s just someone from your past. nothing more. nothing to see here.

he dates too. once, you find out through a mutual that he’s seeing someone seriously—a girl who’s smart and sweet and nothing like you. it bothers you more than you want to admit. but you never say anything. you just keep your head down, push it away like you do with everything else that hurts. you’re happy for him, you think. you should be.

life moves fast, and slow, and fast again. you move cities. he changes jobs. there are stretches of time where you don’t think about him at all—and then suddenly everything reminds you of him again. a song he used to hum under his breath. the way someone else laughs. a white-haired stranger passing by on the street, so close to the version of him you remember but not quite right. the ghost of him lingers, not haunting you, but following you in the corners of your life.

and then, there are the moments when life tangles your paths back together.

—

it’s your friend’s birthday—an old classmate who’s turned their tiny apartment into a chaos of people and warm lights. the kind of party that’s too loud, too crowded, but you’re here anyway because it’s easier to go than stay home. the tension of being alone hits you in the chest as soon as you walk in. everyone’s happy. everyone’s with someone. everyone’s moving forward, but you’re stuck at some point in the past, lingering in the gap between where you were and where you should be.

you almost don’t go, tired from work, emotionally drained. but you show up, because something tells you to. maybe it’s because you promised yourself you’d stop running from things that make you uncomfortable. or maybe it’s just the weird way life works, pulling you toward the people and places you’re not ready for yet.

you’re standing near the kitchen, sipping a drink you don’t really care about, when you hear it—a laugh that cuts through the noise, familiar and unexpected. a laugh you know instantly, one that hits you in the chest like a familiar song. it’s a sound you haven’t heard in years, but it’s like it never left.

you turn, the crowd of people blurring out of focus, and there he is.

satoru.

he’s leaning against the fridge, talking to someone you don’t recognize, his hair a little longer, his shirt untucked, uncuffed. still so him, but also… different. his face is older, but still beautiful in that effortless way, the same white hair, the same sharp eyes that seem to know you even from across the room.

he sees you. he freezes. and for a second, it’s like time holds its breath.

“hey,” he says, voice soft, almost surprised. “you look…”

he doesn’t finish the sentence. but you hear it anyway. you look the same. you look different. i didn’t expect to see you here.

you smile like you’re not unraveling. like it doesn’t matter that your heart just skipped a beat. “it’s been a while.”

he hugs you then, warm and solid. it lasts a second too long. too much unsaid between you both, but it’s all there in the tension of his arms around you. the promise is still alive in the quiet air between your breaths. but neither of you mentions it.

he leaves before you do.

—

months later, it’s a late-night convenience store in tokyo. you’re tired, bleary-eyed, the kind of exhausted that comes from too many late shifts and not enough sleep. you’re reaching for instant noodles and a bottle of tea when you hear the shuffle of footsteps behind you. you don’t look, too focused on the shelves in front of you. but then you hear it—his voice, soft but unmistakable.

“you live around here now?” he asks, stunned.

you freeze for a moment. and then you turn.

there he is, standing in the aisle like he’s part of some strange dream. his hair is tied back messily, longer than before. he’s holding a bag of sour candies, blinking at you like he’s not sure if you’re real or if his tired eyes are just playing tricks on him.

“yeah,” you say, suddenly self-conscious. “just moved a couple months ago.”

“me too,” he says, a little sheepish. “just moved last week. tokyo’s a lot different from what i remembered.”

you laugh, and for a moment, it’s like you’re both seventeen again, standing in the hallway after class, talking about nothing. only now, it’s quieter. more knowing. there’s a little more space between you both, but you don’t feel it as much as you think you should. he’s still satoru, after all.

you talk for a few minutes, small things. the weather. work. how both of you somehow managed to end up in the same city again after all this time. his hair’s longer now, and so is yours. there’s something different about him, something worn into the lines of his face, but you’re still the same. you’re still the same. the realization hits you like a wave.

when you say goodbye, there’s a small flicker of something in his eyes. like he wants to say something else. something important. maybe you do too. but you don’t.

you both go your separate ways, the moment slipping away with every step, but neither of you forgets it. not really.

—

another year passes. you’re invited to a mutual friend’s engagement party. you don’t know it’s mutual until you arrive and see him standing on the balcony, glass of wine in hand. his back is to you, but you recognize the way his shoulders sit under the weight of the world, the way his posture softens when he’s trying to relax.

you hesitate. for a second, you think about leaving. about turning around and pretending you never saw him, never heard that familiar laugh or felt that same ache in your chest. but you stay. something inside you says that this is the time. that maybe, just maybe, the universe is ready for you to have the conversation you’ve been avoiding for years.

you walk over. he turns, and his eyes widen when he sees you.

“this is getting ridiculous,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips. “we keep showing up like we’re being summoned.”

you laugh, but it’s a little more nervous than you mean it to be. “maybe we are.”

you talk for fifteen minutes, small talk mostly. his girlfriend is waiting inside—he doesn’t say that, but you can tell. he’s polite, but distant this time. something in his eyes is different, more guarded than you remember. and it’s strange. it feels like a wall has gone up between you both, and you can’t figure out why. you want to ask, but you don’t. it’s not your place.

something tightens in your chest, a quiet jealousy you don’t want to feel but can’t help. so you excuse yourself early.

—

and then there’s the funeral.

someone you both knew in high school. someone you weren’t close to, but close enough to go. it’s raining—of course it is—and your coat is too thin for the chill. the crowd is subdued, the kind of heavy silence you only get at funerals. you stand off to the side, trying not to draw attention, but then you spot him across the crowd.

he’s standing alone under an umbrella, his jaw clenched. his eyes are cast downward, but when he looks up, he sees you. his gaze sharpens, like he’s unsure if you’re really there. but then he steps toward you, slow and hesitant.

you don’t speak much. just stand side by side beneath the gray sky, the rain soft on your faces, like a veil between everything that was and everything that could have been. you don’t know if it’s the weight of the moment or something else, but it feels like you’re both seventeen again, standing in that quiet space between friendship and something more.

afterward, when you’re on the train home, your phone buzzes. a contact name that hasn’t been on your phone for a while.

satoru: thirty’s not that far.

you stare at the screen for a long time, the words sinking into your chest like a stone. the promise that’s always been there, waiting for the right moment to be spoken. but now, in the quiet of your apartment, you don’t reply.

you think about it. about everything. about how he said it, softer than usual, quieter than you’re used to. you think about his eyes, the way they followed yours. the rain on his umbrella. the years that have passed.

you think about his voice, and you wonder if he remembers the exact words. you wonder if he ever stopped.

—

… you almost don’t go. again.

the invitation sits unopened on your counter for days before you cave, peeling it open with the tip of your key. you don’t recognize the name on the envelope immediately, but inside, there’s a handwritten card. a friend-of-a-friend, someone you once shared a table with at a dinner party, who remembered your smile. you had forgotten about them, honestly. but here they are, inviting you into their life, into their celebration. their quiet reminder that life moves on, and people keep finding their paths while you still seem to be standing still.

“it’ll be nice,” your coworker says when you mention it offhand. “dress up, eat fancy cake, forget your life for an evening.”

you smile. nod. pretend it’s not terrifying—the thought of being surrounded by people who’ve figured it out—who’ve found their person, their path, their place in the world. the thought of seeing them again—the ones who chose their someone. and you’re left holding only the pieces of a promise, one you had never quite stopped waiting on.

but you go anyway. because you said you would. because maybe, just maybe, it will be easier to let go of things you’re holding onto by showing up. by being there.

the venue is small and beautiful, tucked in a quiet corner of the city. ivy climbs up stone walls, winding their way to the second floor, the kind of building that feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something important to happen. soft music spills out from the inside, cascading into the courtyard where the last rays of the day spill gold over everyone’s skin, turning them all into something fleeting, something perfect.

you wear a color you’ve always liked on yourself, something soft and simple, but still carefully chosen. it’s funny—how you’ve started choosing your clothes more for yourself than for anyone else. how you’ve learned to dress for the person you’ve grown into, not the one you thought you’d be. you smile as you check your reflection one last time. and then, you spot it—lipstick on your teeth. for the first ten minutes, you don’t know, and then someone kindly points it out, their laugh light and warm. you laugh too, grateful for the small kindness. you take a drink from a glass of champagne that’s almost too pretty to touch, as if it should be saved for something special, and for a second, you almost feel like you belong here.

you don’t know many people at the party. that’s fine. you’ve never been one to throw yourself into the middle of things. you’ve always been the one to drift at events like these, skimming the surface, smiling politely, offering a few words here and there, but keeping your hands folded in your lap when you sit, staying small, staying unnoticed.

you make it through the ceremony. the vows are sweet. you clap when you’re supposed to. you eat a few hors d’oeuvres, and when the music gets too loud and the voices start blending into a buzz, you slip away to the balcony. it’s quiet out here. the city hums beneath you, distant and untouchable. for a moment, you let yourself breathe.

and then you hear it—laughter. soft, familiar. close.

you turn, already knowing. already feeling the weight of it before you see him.

he’s standing a few steps away from the doorway, talking to someone you don’t recognize. sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie a little loose like he’s just been letting the night happen around him. his hair’s still white—shorter now, messier, and there’s something about the way the years have softened him in places you never thought could soften. his eyes still hold that distant glimmer, the one you always tried to make sense of. but now, there’s something more grounded in him—something that matches the tiredness you’ve started carrying around yourself.

he’s changed. and he hasn’t.

your chest tightens.

then, like some invisible thread has tugged at his spine, he turns.

his eyes land on you.

and the world tilts, just slightly.

he goes still.

you don’t move either.

something deep in your ribs aches with how long it’s been, with how many almosts have collected between you over the years. so many moments where he almost looked back, where you almost said something, where life almost collided and made sense. but it didn’t. not then. and maybe not now.

his expression shifts—surprise first, then something warmer. softer. something like disbelief, but there’s a flicker in his eyes, one that you can’t ignore. maybe it’s a memory. maybe it’s hope.

“hey,” he says, stepping closer. his voice is quieter than you remember, like he’s afraid to break the moment. “i didn’t know you were coming.”

you swallow, suddenly aware of how dry your throat is. “me either. i didn’t know we had mutual friends.”

he lets out a breath that sounds too much like a laugh. “of course we do. fate’s had a weird sense of humor since we were seventeen.”

you don’t say anything. you just look at him.

his eyes scan your face like he’s trying to memorize it all over again. he looks at you as though you’re someone he never quite expected to see again, and it feels like he’s seeing all of you, not just the parts he remembers. he’s still beautiful in that effortless way—how he’s always been—but now, there’s something real in it. something tired, something weighted, something that speaks of the years between. of all the things that have happened since.

you speak first. “you look good.”

he smiles slowly, his mouth curving up in that easy way that always made your heart trip. “so do you. better than good.”

you roll your eyes a little. “still laying it on thick, i see.”

“you used to like that,” he murmurs, and there’s something vulnerable in the way his voice dips, something nostalgic, almost like he wants to reach back through time and pull out the version of you that used to smile when he flirted. the version that used to think it meant something. “used to smile when i flirted.”

“used to,” you echo. but your voice is gentler than the words. there’s a quiet understanding between you now. something that was there before, buried beneath everything that has passed.

a beat passes.

and then he asks, almost cautiously, “are you still with anyone?”

you shake your head.

his eyes flicker, searching yours for something. for a sign. “me neither.”

your stomach flips.

there’s something there in his gaze—something that feels like an opening, like a crack where the past might slip back in. you both stand there, framed by the golden glow of the setting sun and the hum of music drifting in from the party. it feels like the air around you is waiting. like the universe has been holding its breath, waiting for this moment, just to see what you’ll do now. to see what the two of you will decide to do with all the time that has passed, with all the unspoken things between you.

“you remember,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “what we said, back then?”

you don’t pretend you don’t. you nod. “yeah. i remember.”

his hands slip into his pockets. he shifts a little, as though unsure of himself, and his eyes stay locked on yours. “at some point i started to think it was just a joke. something we said to make the world feel less uncertain.”

“me too,” you admit, the words soft and honest. “but it never stopped feeling real.”

he tilts his head, watching you, and you can feel the weight of everything hanging in the space between you. “i kept waiting,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost unsure. “not on purpose. not always. but every time something ended, every time i felt alone again, i’d think—maybe we’re still heading there. maybe we just haven’t caught up to the promise yet.”

your breath hitches. it feels like the air is too thick. too much. too many years folded up between you.

“and now we’re thirty,” he says, a small, stunned smile tugging at his lips. “and you’re here. and i’m here. and i don’t want to waste more time pretending like i don’t want this.”

you look at him. really look at him. and suddenly, all the years, all the almosts, all the moments where you left too early or he looked back too late, they don’t feel like failures anymore. they feel like steps—each one leading you toward this. this moment. this chance to finally make good on something that’s been waiting.

you take one step now.

closer.

his breath catches when your fingers brush his, like he’s not sure if this is real, if it’s happening. And then, when you don’t pull away, when you stay there, your fingers lacing together as though it’s always been that easy, something shifts. The years that kept you apart, the missed chances, the long silences—they start to fall away.

you lean in.

and when you kiss him, it’s not loud, not dramatic, not bursting with fireworks.

it’s quiet.

it’s soft.

it’s like coming home.

it’s like finally keeping a promise you never really stopped waiting on.

[bu3ck3r]

always watching

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: so this is partly inspired by a song called jealous by nick jonas (tysm anon for this request)

wc: 9k

a/n: after yall read this spam my inbox with literally anything! and obv tell me how was it🙂‍↔️

the locker room still smelled like sweat and celebration—someone had sprayed body spray with no regard for moderation, music was playing off a speaker in the corner, and the vibe was high. uconn had just rolled over another team, and the win had been easy, almost too easy.

azzi leaned against the wall near her locker, still half in uniform, her hair damp and curling from sweat, eyes fixed on something—or someone—across the room.

paige.

paige was laughing at something ice had said, throwing her head back in that way that made her entire presence shift. her jersey was bunched at the waist, sweat-stuck to her stomach, and her cheeks were flushed in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.

azzi tore her eyes away before anyone noticed. but someone did.

“you watch her like she hung the damn moon,” jana muttered as she walked by, tossing her towel onto a bench. her voice was low, teasing, but not cruel.

azzi rolled her eyes and said nothing.

later that night, the team crammed into kk’s dorm for movie night. pillows everywhere, popcorn already half eaten, someone flipping through netflix options like the right one might suddenly appear if they kept scrolling. paige walked in late—hoodie half zipped, pajama pants hanging low on her hips—and she dropped next to azzi on the floor like it was the most natural thing in the world.

azzi didn’t even blink. she just leaned into her. a shared blanket appeared. no one said anything at first, but when azzi’s head dropped onto paige’s shoulder, jana smirked and didn’t bother keeping it to herself this time.

“okay. nah. you two need to stop. i’m tired.”

azzi lifted her head slowly. “what?”

“you’re literally curled up on her like this is a rom-com,” ice added, grinning from where she was half-asleep on the couch. “just make out already and spare us.”

paige snorted. “y’all are so annoying.”

“y’all are so in denial,” jana shot back, and a chorus of laughter followed.

azzi smiled, her cheeks burning, and paige just nudged her shoulder gently. “ignore them.”

but paige couldn’t ignore the way her chest squeezed when azzi smiled at her like that. the kind of smile you didn’t give to just anybody.

they walked back to their dorms together after midnight. campus was quiet, the cold biting at their cheeks. paige had offered azzi her hoodie without thinking. azzi took it. it looked a lot better on her.

they walked in silence for a beat. paige glanced at her. the hoodie sleeves were too long, and azzi was curled into them, hands tucked inside.

“you’re quiet.”

azzi shrugged. “just thinking.”

“about?”

azzi looked at her, held her gaze a second too long. “basketball. life. stuff.”

paige nodded like she believed her. like she wasn’t dying to ask what “stuff” meant. but she didn’t. she never did.

she reached for the door handle to her dorm and paused. “night, az.”

azzi turned. “night, paige.”

paige closed the door too slowly, like maybe she wanted to say something else. like maybe this friendship—whatever it was—was killing her a little more every day.

azzi:

you still up?

paige:

always. wassup?

azzi:

just couldn’t sleep. too much film in my head

paige:

same lol

we should’ve won by more

azzi:

facts

you carried tho

paige:

nah

you always say that

azzi:

bc it’s true

paige:

you’re biased

azzi:

yeah. probably.

night p.

paige:

goodnight az.

paige stared at her phone long after the messages stopped. she didn’t know when “az” turned into “azzi” and then back into “az” again—but it felt like something. it felt like the kind of shift that changes things quietly, slowly, until one day, everything’s different and you don’t even remember how it started.

she rolled over in bed, hoodie still smelling like azzi, and whispered into the dark.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the cool autumn air nipped at the skin as paige and azzi walked back to their dorms after another long practice. their footsteps echoed in the near-empty streets of the uconn campus, only the sound of their sneakers against the pavement breaking the silence. it was one of those rare moments where everything felt suspended in time. no rush, no chaos, just the two of them, surrounded by the hum of the late afternoon and the quiet glow of campus lights.

azzi walked a little ahead, her curly hair bouncing as she moved. paige couldn’t help but watch the way it swayed with every step—how her posture was so effortlessly perfect, how she carried herself with this quiet confidence that always seemed to make everything feel effortless. she was always so focused, so calm on the court, but off it, there was something else. something that made paige’s heart beat just a little faster.

“so, are you gonna tell me why you were off today in drills, or do i have to guess?” azzi’s voice pulled paige out of her thoughts.

paige blinked, caught off guard by the question. “i wasn’t off,” she answered, trying to sound nonchalant.

azzi shot her a look, her eyebrows raised. “you missed three threes, paige. three.”

“and still dropped 18 in the scrimmage,” paige shot back with a grin, brushing it off.

azzi tilted her head, the tiniest smirk playing at her lips. “confident much?”

“maybe,” paige replied, walking a little closer to her. she couldn’t help it. every time she was near azzi, something about her presence made it hard to think clearly. “i just don’t like losing.”

azzi’s smile softened, and for a moment, everything felt like it was in perfect sync.

azzi’s voice broke the quiet again, softer this time. “you were distracted.”

paige wasn’t sure if she was imagining the tone of her voice, but it sent a little spark through her chest. “i wasn’t distracted,” she lied.

azzi didn’t seem convinced. she slowed her pace, letting paige catch up, and then they fell into step together. neither of them spoke for a while. the silence between them was comfortable but heavy, like there was something else they were both trying to ignore.

the next day, practice was intense. the gym was filled with the sound of sneakers pounding the hardwood, the shrill of the whistle cutting through the air, and the steady thump of basketballs hitting the floor. but throughout all of it, paige’s mind kept wandering. she couldn’t focus like she usually did, her thoughts drifting to azzi again and again.

she stole glances at azzi throughout drills—when azzi nailed her signature shot, when she locked down on defense, when she flashed that smile that paige couldn’t get out of her head. every movement, every shot, was flawless.

paige couldn’t deny it anymore. it wasn’t just admiration. there was something more—something that had been building since the day they met at team usa, something that had only grown stronger since azzi arrived at uconn. paige tried to shake the thought, but it lingered, wrapped around her chest like a tight knot.

the night after practice, when the team was quiet and the campus was starting to settle into its usual nighttime rhythm, paige found herself staring at her phone. she had half a mind to just toss it on her bed and forget about it. but she couldn’t. not when azzi’s name was suddenly lighting up her screen.

azzi:

you good?

paige:

yeah just tired

why?

azzi:

idk you were quiet after practice

paige:

you noticed that huh

azzi:

always

paige:

cute

azzi:

are you flirting with me, bueckers?

paige:

would you be mad if i was?

…typing…

…typing stopped…

azzi:

i wouldn’t

paige blinked. she stared at the words, her heart thumping painfully against her chest. she didn’t know if she was relieved, terrified, or both. her fingers hovered over her phone again, but she didn’t reply. the words felt too heavy. too real.

the following morning, paige woke up to an empty room. ice had already left for a study session, and jana was probably at the gym getting in extra work. paige grabbed her phone, still replaying azzi’s text from the night before in her mind. she ran her hand through her messy hair and groaned. she had to focus. they had a game in two days, and she had to shake the feeling that everything was slowly shifting under her feet.

as she walked into the gym that day, she noticed azzi already warming up. she was practicing her jump shots, smooth and precise. paige couldn’t stop watching, feeling that familiar pull in her chest whenever azzi moved, whenever she smiled that quiet smile that always made paige’s heart skip.

they were running through drills later, and paige could feel the shift between them.

azzi was sitting a little closer during film review, her knee grazing paige’s under the table. it was subtle, but paige couldn’t ignore the way her skin tingled from the brief contact. every time azzi leaned over to point out a play or ask for paige’s opinion, her breath caught, her mind whirling.

“you okay?” azzi whispered, her gaze searching paige’s face.

paige nodded, but inside, her thoughts were a mess. she wanted to lean in, wanted to tell azzi everything. but the words wouldn’t come. “yeah. just… thinking,” paige muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

azzi’s lips curled into that soft, knowing smile that always seemed to break paige into pieces.

paige:

that fadeaway’s not fair

azzi:

you were staring again

paige:

you’re hard not to look at

azzi:

…

you’re gonna ruin me with texts like that

paige:

you like that huh?

azzi:

maybe

paige didn’t sleep that night. she couldn’t. every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was azzi’s face, that smile, the way their eyes had met across the gym.

game day arrived, and paige played like her life depended on it. aggressive, sharp, dominant—every move felt effortless. but every time she scored, her eyes flicked to the bench. to azzi.

after the game, the locker room buzzed with excitement. the team was laughing and shouting, the adrenaline still pumping in their veins. but paige couldn’t focus. she grabbed her towel and wiped her face, but her mind kept drifting back to the night before, to the words that had been said.

jana tossed her a towel. “damn, you were on fire tonight,” she said, her grin wide. “but i swear, you’re playing like azzi’s watching you like she wants to write poetry about your jump shot.”

ice chimed in, clearly teasing. “for real, it’s like y’all live in your own little bubble.”

azzi shot both of them a glare, her cheeks flushed. “shut up.”

paige just smiled, but deep down, she was wondering if they were right. she could feel the weight of azzi’s gaze on her whenever she played. it wasn’t just basketball anymore. it was… something else.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

game day at gampel had its own rhythm—buzzing sneakers, whispered prayers, warmups under the blinding arena lights. paige could feel it in her bones before she even laced her shoes. but today, the adrenaline coursing through her veins wasn’t just about basketball. it was something else. something—or someone—who had taken up more and more of her headspace lately.

azzi.

she always looked calm before tipoff, like the noise around her couldn’t touch her. her face calm, lips slightly parted, long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. paige watched her from the opposite end of the locker room, surrounded by teammates but completely in her own lane.

azzi was sitting on the floor, pulling her socks over her calves, airpods in, nodding to whatever was playing. paige had no idea what the song was, but she wanted to know. she wanted to ask. she wanted to sit beside her, pull one airpod out, and just be that close.

instead, she sat still, a towel draped over her lap, her eyes betraying her again and again as they drifted back to azzi.

she wasn’t proud of how much she stared. she thought she was subtle—sneaking glances in between stretches or when geno was talking—but she wasn’t. ice caught her once and gave her a look like, seriously? paige had just shrugged and mumbled something about defense.

but it wasn’t defense.

it was the way azzi’s laugh made paige’s stomach do things. how it bubbled out of her when she was teasing jana, or when someone showed her a funny tiktok in the locker room. it was that rare, unguarded smile she gave when something really got her. paige found herself chasing that laugh in her mind when she couldn’t sleep.

it was the way azzi’s jersey rode up during shootaround, revealing just a toned stomach, glistening with sweat. and paige—god, she hated herself for how much she noticed. she was a player, a leader, a teammate. she wasn’t supposed to be distracted like this.

and yet.

the worst part? the way azzi smelled.

it wasn’t even fair. vanilla and something warm that paige couldn’t place. something that made her dizzy if azzi stood too close. and she often did—leaning in to check notes, standing shoulder to shoulder during team huddles, brushing against her on the bench.

“yo, paige.” it was ice again. “you good?”

“huh?” paige blinked, startled.

“you’ve been zoned out for like ten minutes,” ice said, towel slung over her shoulder. “what’s going on with you?”

“nothing. just locked in,” paige lied, pulling on her warmup shirt. but her heart was beating too fast. her hands were slightly clammy. she wasn’t locked in—she was unraveling, and it all had a name.

azzi.

they were up by 12. the energy in the locker room was electric. coach was going over adjustments on the whiteboard, players hydrating and bouncing their legs, but paige?

paige was sitting beside azzi. too close. or maybe not close enough.

azzi’s knee bumped hers lightly as they sat on the bench, and paige froze. her breath caught for half a second. azzi didn’t even seem to notice—or maybe she did and just didn’t say anything.

paige risked a glance. azzi’s head was down, towel over her shoulders, lips parted slightly as she caught her breath. there was a tiny mole just under her jawline paige had never noticed before. her skin gleamed from exhaustion, and the faintest flush was still high on her cheeks.

“good first half,” azzi said softly, not looking up.

“yeah,” paige said, trying to swallow the knot in her throat. “you too.”

azzi finally turned her head, eyes locking with paige’s.

there was a beat. a second too long.

something passed between them. something paige couldn’t name. but it was thick and real and left her breathless.

now they were back in the locker room, jerseys peeled off, music playing low over the speakers, the smell of victory (and sweat) lingering in the air. jana was hyping everyone up, dancing around with her bottle like it was champagne. kk was talking trash about her fourth quarter steal.

paige sat on the bench, head tilted back, eyes closed for just a second. her body ached in that beautiful, earned way. but when she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was azzi—across the room, standing in front of her open locker, tugging off her compression sleeves. there was something about the way her fingers moved, the slow, methodical grace of it, like everything she did was deliberate.

paige’s mouth went dry.

it hit her like a punch to the gut: she was falling. hard. really hard

and the way her teammates joked—jana saying things like “okay, but if i catch y’all making heart eyes during warmups one more time…”—only made it harder to pretend it was nothing.

paige would always laugh it off. “you’re delusional,” she’d say, deflecting like it was second nature.

but she wasn’t laughing inside.

inside, she was spiraling. because this thing—this impossible, distracting, beautiful thing—was not just a phase.

it was real.

and it was starting to show.

that night, the team gathered in one of the common lounges for movie night. someone had dragged in a few extra bean bags, and the couch cushions were already claimed by the time paige and azzi walked in together.

it wasn’t even planned—azzi just bumped her shoulder against paige’s in the hallway outside the gym and said, “you coming to that movie night?”

and like always, paige said yes.

the lights were low, the movie already playing, but paige wasn’t watching. azzi had claimed the spot right beside her, curling up on the couch, legs folded under her, and paige somehow ended up with azzi’s shoulder pressed against hers. again. azzi didn’t move. neither did paige.

about halfway through the movie, azzi shifted closer. she was practically tucked against paige now, warm and soft and so close that paige could smell that vanilla–something blend again. she didn’t know how it happened, but azzi’s head slowly rested against her shoulder. her breath hitched.

don’t make it weird, don’t make it weird.

jana, sitting on the floor in front of them, turned around mid-bite of her popcorn and gave them a look.

“okay, but like…” she whispered to ice beside her. “seriously, this isn’t even subtle anymore.”

ice glanced back and whispered back, not even trying to hide the smirk: “bro. just get together already.”

paige felt her ears burn, but azzi didn’t move. she just yawned quietly, like nothing was out of the ordinary, like paige wasn’t about to have a stroke from how fast her heart was beating.

her phone buzzed in her lap.

azzi:

ignore them

paige stared at the message. the corners of her mouth twitched.

paige:

i’m trying

hard

azzi:

is it that bad?

being this close?

paige didn’t answer right away. she was afraid of what she might say if she told the truth.

paige:

not bad

just… a lot

she waited. nothing.

but azzi didn’t move away.

the next day, paige was back in the gym early, trying to clear her head. shots were automatic, but her mind wasn’t. azzi’s voice, her laugh, the way she felt against her—it all kept looping in her brain like a highlight reel she couldn’t turn off.

she was mid-rep when ice showed up, tossed her a towel, and said, “you gotta figure this out, bro.”

paige shot her a look. “what are you talking about?”

ice just raised an eyebrow. “you’re in love with her. and unless you want to keep spiraling, maybe actually talk to her?”

“i’m not spiraling,” paige lied.

“you’re listening to frank ocean in the weight room, paige.”

paige shut her eyes. busted.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the whole team went out after their win. uconn’s usual haunt, ted’s, was packed with students. the music was loud, the lights low, and the floor sticky with beer. paige had meant to just hang out, have fun, maybe let off some steam.

but the second she walked in and saw azzi across the room—talking to some guy by the bar, laughing a little too easily—something in her snapped.

it wasn’t that azzi was doing anything wrong. she was being azzi—friendly, charming, beautiful. but paige couldn’t stand how close the guy leaned toward her. couldn’t stand how azzi didn’t move away.

and that damn song started playing.

“i don’t like the way he’s looking at you, i’m starting to think you want him too…”

paige froze.

the lyrics hit too close. the jealousy roared up in her chest, hot and bitter and undeniable. she tried to look away, but her eyes stayed locked on azzi. on the guy. on the way azzi leaned in to hear him over the music.

“you’re too fuckin’, beautiful, and everybody wants a taste…”

paige downed her drink.

and another.

and another.

it was hot and loud, the kind of place where bad decisions had room to breathe. paige was pressed against the bar, half-done with her third drink when jana slid in next to her like she’d been tracking her all night.

“okay, what the hell are you doing?” jana said, snatching paige’s cup before she could take another sip.

paige raised a brow. “i’m having a drink.”

“three drinks,” ice added, appearing on the other side of her like a stealthy twin. “in twenty minutes. you trying to pregame a blackout?”

“i’m fine,” paige said tightly, eyes fixed across the room again—where azzi was still talking to that guy, her face half-lit by the neon sign above the bar.

ice followed her gaze and sighed. “this is about her, isn’t it?”

“no,” paige snapped. “yes. maybe.”

jana made a face. “girl, you’re being dramatic as hell.”

“you don’t get it.”

“we do,” ice said. “more than you think. you’ve been gone since she got here.”

jana leaned in, voice low. “you’re acting like this is middle school. you like her. she probably likes you. just talk to her.”

“she doesn’t—”

“she does,” ice cut in. “you think we haven’t noticed? azzi watches you like a movie.”

that made paige look away.

jana didn’t let up. “look, i know it’s scary, but drinking your feelings while she talks to some random guy isn’t the move. you’re paige fucking bueckers. pull yourself together.”

paige turned the now-empty glass in her hands, knuckles white around the rim. “it’s not just about jealousy. it’s… i’ve been holding this in since team usa. since the day i met her. and every time i think i’m over it, she does something like laugh or look at me like i’m all she sees and—”

she shook her head. “i can’t do this anymore.”

ice and jana exchanged a look, but neither said anything.

paige ignored them both, eyes still on azzi. everything else was a blur. music thumping, laughter around her, teammates dancing—but all she could see was azzi.

when she saw the guy’s hand brush azzi’s arm, that was it.

paige downed the last sip in her cup and set it on the bar like a final period. “i’m talking to her.”

she pushed through the crowd, half-drunk but clear-headed enough to know this couldn’t wait. she reached azzi and grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly.

azzi turned, surprised. “paige?”

“we need to talk,” paige said, her voice low, almost pleading.

azzi hesitated. “paige, are you—”

she didn’t wait for a response. she turned, heart pounding, and made her way across the room—straight toward azzi.

the music pulsed around them, a chaotic blend of bass and laughter. paige’s heart pounded in her chest as she navigated through the crowd, her eyes locked on azzi.

the night air slapped paige in the face the second they stepped out of ted’s. cold, sharp, sobering. her fingers were still loosely curled around azzi’s wrist, but she let go as soon as they were far enough from the door for the music to dull to a distant thump.

azzi stood in front of her, arms crossed over her chest, clearly thrown by the sudden exit. her brows were furrowed, lips parted slightly. “paige, what the hell was that?”

paige didn’t answer at first. she looked down, then up, eyes dancing between the ground and azzi’s face like she couldn’t decide where to land.

“i couldn’t watch anymore,” she finally said, voice barely above a whisper.

“watch what?” azzi asked. her tone wasn’t annoyed—more confused, careful. like she knew something was coming but didn’t want to assume too much too fast.

“you. with him.”

a beat.

“that guy?” azzi asked, almost incredulous. “he was just talking. he asked about the game. that’s all.”

“i know,” paige said quickly. “i know. that’s the worst part.”

azzi’s arms slowly dropped to her sides. “then what is this? what’s going on with you?”

paige took a shaky breath and stepped closer. “i’m losing my mind over you.”

azzi’s breath hitched, eyes flickering in surprise.

“i’ve tried to pretend it was nothing. that it’s just a phase or a dumb crush or some… whatever. but it’s not. it’s every day. it’s every time i see you in the gym i just—” she broke off, frustrated with herself.

azzi looked like she wasn’t even breathing.

“i think about you constantly,” paige continued, quieter now. “and it’s not just attraction or whatever—i mean, yeah, you’re beautiful and it’s driving me absolutely insane, but it’s more than that. i want to tell you when something good happens. i want to walk you home after practice and… i want to be the person who gets to be close to you. like, really close.”

her voice cracked on the last word.

azzi stepped forward, just a little. her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were soft.

“paige…” she started gently. “you’re drunk. maybe we should talk about this when you’re sober.”

“i’m not drunk,” paige said quickly, firmly. “okay, yeah, i had a few, but i’ve never been more clearheaded in my life. if i don’t say this now, i won’t. i’ve been swallowing this for months, az. since team usa. since the second i saw you on that court and knew i was in trouble.”

azzi didn’t move.

“you walked into uconn like you belonged here and everyone was watching you like you were already a star,” paige said, her voice thick with something like awe. “and i was just… gone. i didn’t even fight it.”

azzi took another step forward. they were close now—close enough that paige could see the flutter of her eyelashes, the subtle shift in her breathing.

“you never said anything,” azzi whispered.

“i was scared. i didn’t want to lose you. not even just as a teammate or a friend. i didn’t want to make it weird. i’d rather die than make it weird.”

azzi tilted her head slightly, her lips twitching into a soft, almost sad smile. “you think you were hiding it?”

paige blinked. “i… tried to.”

azzi finally reached out, her fingers brushing paige’s wrist. “you weren’t. not from me.”

the silence between them was thick now, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it pulsed with the weight of everything unsaid—until now.

“so what does that mean?” paige asked, voice barely audible.

azzi hesitated just long enough to make her next words feel deliberate.

“it means i’ve been waiting for you to say it out loud.”

paige’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. “you…?”

“i’m not good at this,” azzi said, laughing quietly. “feelings, i mean. i keep things inside too, but i’ve wanted this. you. since forever.”

paige was stunned into stillness.

“i didn’t know if i was reading too much into it,” azzi continued. “i mean, we’d hang out and you’d look at me like i hung the moon, and then two seconds later you’d act like nothing happened. i didn’t want to ruin it either.”

“i did hang the moon,” paige joked.

azzi laughed—really laughed—and paige swore she could’ve melted right there.

and then it happened.

azzi leaned in, slow, careful, like giving paige time to back out. but paige didn’t move. she couldn’t. her body leaned forward before her brain even caught up.

when their lips met, it was soft. hesitant. testing.

but when paige cupped azzi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, azzi responded like she’d been holding back for years.

because she had.

they broke apart only when the door to the bar cracked open again, voices spilling out. they stepped back just enough to breathe.

“come back to my dorm?” paige asked, voice low and rough around the edges.

azzi didn’t hesitate. “yeah.”

they walked in silence at first.

the campus was nearly empty, the night sky hanging low and heavy with stars. paige’s hand brushed against azzi’s once, then again. the third time, azzi reached out and laced their fingers together.

neither of them said anything about it.

they walked back to the dorm in silence, but it wasn’t awkward—it was electric. like every word they could’ve said was sitting just under their skin, humming like static. paige’s hand found azzi’s halfway there, their fingers tangling like they’d done it a hundred times—but this time, it meant something else. it felt different. everything did.

when they got to the building, paige didn’t even ask. she just held the door open for azzi, who slipped past her without a word, brushing against her shoulder like it was second nature.

it was.

because azzi had been here before—dozens of times. for movie nights, naps between practices, studying, random after-practice rants. she’d curled up on paige’s bed, worn her hoodie, stolen her snacks. this dorm wasn’t unfamiliar.

but when they walked into the room this time, azzi paused.

paige noticed it immediately.

the lights were low, just the glow from the desk lamp and the string lights over the window. a sweatshirt—azzi’s, actually—was draped over the back of paige’s chair. the same lavender candle azzi had gifted her was still on the sill, next to a water bottle and a mess of hair ties.

it was all the same. but now it felt like more.

azzi turned slowly, her voice quieter than usual. “we’ve been here so many times.”

“i know,” paige said, closing the door behind them. “but not like this.”

azzi gave a little nod, her eyes scanning the room like it was suddenly unfamiliar. like she was seeing it through a new lens. maybe she was.

her gaze lingered on paige’s bed, then on paige.

paige’s heart was thudding, loud and hot in her chest.

“you okay?” azzi asked softly.

“i don’t know,” paige admitted. “i’ve never done this before.”

“done what?”

“this,” she said, stepping closer. “said it out loud. let it be real.”

azzi’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “you were always obvious, you know.”

paige blinked. “i was not.”

azzi laughed under her breath. “you’d stare at me, and then immediately pretend you weren’t.”

“you’re making things up,” paige said, but she was smiling now, the tension breaking slightly.

“i’m not,” azzi said, taking a step forward. “you think i didn’t notice how quiet you’d get when i sat too close? or how you’d text me good luck before every game, even when we were in the same hotel?”

paige looked down, cheeks flushed. “i wasn’t ready to mess this up.”

“you didn’t,” azzi said gently. “you couldn’t.”

they were inches apart now, the space between them small enough that paige could feel the warmth coming off her.

“i keep thinking i’m gonna wake up and this won’t be real,” paige said quietly.

azzi reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind paige’s ear. “it is real paige.”

that touch, light and careful almost too much.

“i feel like i’ve wanted this for so long, i don’t even know how to handle it now that it’s here,” paige admitted.

azzi’s voice dropped, softer now. “then let’s not rush. let’s just… be here.”

so they sat.

paige kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bed like she’d done a thousand times. azzi followed without hesitation, folding her legs beneath her, shoulder brushing paige’s. familiar, but weighted now. electrified.

they sat in silence, legs tangled lazily, faces turned toward each other. every little glance, every breath, was a new kind of intimacy.

and then paige reached out, slow, fingers brushing the inside of azzi’s wrist. azzi turned her hand over, letting paige trace the lines of her palm.

“i thought i’d ruined it when i told you,” paige said after a minute.

“you didn’t,” azzi said. “you fixed it.”

they leaned into each other again, and this time the kiss was soft. slow. unhurried. it tasted like adrenaline and years of wanting buried under years of almost.

when they broke apart, they didn’t say anything. just breathed.

and when paige rested her head on azzi’s shoulder, azzi leaned hers against the top of paige’s without hesitation.

outside, the wind rustled through the trees.

inside, it was just them.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

they were still on the bed.

azzi’s legs were stretched out across the comforter, ankles crossed, head tipped slightly as she looked at paige—just looked, like she was trying to memorize her all over again under the low light.

paige, sitting opposite, hugged one knee to her chest and toyed with a loose thread on her sweats. she could feel azzi’s gaze, hot and focused, like it was burning through the chill of the room. it made her pulse flutter in places she wasn’t proud of.

“why are you looking at me like that?” paige asked, half-joking, half-serious.

azzi tilted her head, the corner of her mouth lifting. “i’m allowed to now, right?”

that knocked the breath out of paige a little. “you’ve always been allowed.”

“okay,” azzi said, voice low. “then i’m choosing now to actually do it.”

paige couldn’t stop the smile that crept across her lips. “you’re flirting with me.”

azzi shrugged, eyes still locked on hers. “maybe.”

paige leaned back on her palms, trying to look casual, even though her heart was pounding. “you always do this?”

“do what?”

“make people fall for you without even trying.”

azzi smiled, slow and dangerous. “i didn’t want just anyone to fall for me.”

paige stared, stunned into silence.

azzi’s gaze dropped to her mouth for a second. just a second. but paige felt it like a lightning strike.

it made her sit up straighter.

“you sure you’re not drunk?” azzi teased, voice soft but teasing enough to make paige’s stomach twist in the best way.

paige arched a brow. “i could say the same thing about you.”

azzi grinned. “nope. stone cold sober. just stupid for you.”

that earned her a pillow to the face. she laughed, catching it and tossing it back aside—but the sound was warm and bright and filled the room with something almost unbearably soft.

paige reached for the candle on her windowsill—the lavender one azzi gave her on her birthday—and flicked it open, sniffing it with exaggerated flair.

“still kinda smells like you,” she said, trying to sound casual.

azzi raised an eyebrow. “are you saying you’ve been sniffing it when i’m not around?”

“no comment.”

azzi leaned in. “that’s adorable.”

paige glanced away, biting her bottom lip to fight the smile. “you’re annoying.”

“you love it.”

“i really do,” paige murmured before she could stop herself.

and just like that, the energy shifted again. slower now. still warm, but heavier. more tender.

azzi reached out and brushed her fingers over paige’s knee, her touch feather-light. “can i ask you something?”

“anything.”

azzi’s hand didn’t move. “that first night we had a team movie night… when i fell asleep on your shoulder and everyone teased us… did that mean something to you?”

paige swallowed, the memory hitting her hard. that night had haunted her.

“yeah,” she said quietly. “it meant everything.”

azzi nodded. “same.”

paige looked down at azzi’s hand on her leg, then back up to her. “i wanted to hold you. so badly. but i thought if i did, i’d give myself away.”

“you already had,” azzi whispered.

silence.

their breathing was the only sound now.

paige leaned in slowly, testing the space. azzi didn’t move away—instead, she matched her, closing the distance so naturally it felt like gravity. their foreheads brushed, and neither of them spoke. they didn’t need to.

“i want to kiss you again,” paige breathed.

azzi smiled. “so kiss me.”

this time, the kiss didn’t feel hesitant at all. it was open-mouthed, searching, laced with a hunger that had been simmering for too long. paige’s hand found azzi’s jaw, gentle but certain, and azzi’s fingers curled in the fabric of paige’s hoodie like she was anchoring herself.

they pulled back just enough to breathe, and azzi let out a shaky laugh. “you’re kind of dangerous like this.”

paige smirked, forehead still pressed against hers. “why?”

“because i don’t want to leave.”

paige’s voice was rough. “then don’t.”

azzi kissed her again.

the string lights above paige’s window gave everything a warm, soft glow—gold bleeding into shadows, painting azzi’s cheekbones and catching in her lashes. her lips were kiss-bitten. her breathing, a little uneven.

paige leaned back against the headboard, her arm draped over a pillow, and watched azzi cross her legs at the foot of the bed, hoodie sliding up to expose skin above her shorts. it wasn’t new. azzi had sat in that exact spot a dozen times. but tonight? tonight it was driving paige insane.

azzi caught her staring.

“what?” she asked, coy smile tugging at her lips.

“you’re unfair,” paige said, voice rough around the edges.

azzi tilted her head. “how?”

“you sit there like that—like it’s nothing. like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

azzi blinked slowly. “paige.”

“yeah?”

“i know exactly what i’m doing to you.”

paige choked on a breath, jaw slack. “okay, wow.”

azzi laughed, low and proud of herself. “you kinda walked into that one.”

“you’re cocky now. that’s new.”

azzi crawled closer, inch by inch, hands moving slow on the comforter like she was stalking prey. “you just never gave me the chance to be.”

paige didn’t move. couldn’t. “and now that i have?”

azzi hovered above her, one knee pressed between paige’s thighs, her hands braced on either side of paige’s hips. close enough to kiss, but not doing it. just making her want.

“i’m not holding back anymore,” azzi whispered.

paige’s breath caught. “then don’t.”

but azzi didn’t kiss her—not yet. instead, she leaned in, lips brushing paige’s jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. never quite there. never quite enough. paige’s hands found azzi’s waist, fingers slipping under the hem of her hoodie like they had a mind of their own.

“you always smelled so insanely good,” paige murmured.

azzi grinned against her skin. “still do?”

“yeah,” paige said, voice low. “it’s killing me.”

azzi leaned back slightly, eyes dark with something deeper than play. “you’re allowed to want me.”

“i’ve always wanted you,” paige said, barely a whisper. “since team usa. since you smiled at me in that stupid oversized jersey. since i couldn’t stop texting you after practice like a damn idiot.”

azzi’s mouth parted, stunned by the confession.

“i wanted you when you wore my sweatshirt and acted like it was no big deal,” paige went on. “when you fell asleep on my shoulder and i didn’t move for two hours because i didn’t want to wake you. when you laughed at my corny playlist and still asked me to send it to you”

azzi cupped her face now, her thumbs brushing paige’s cheeks like she was trying to memorize them. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“because i thought if you didn’t feel the same, i’d lose you. and that was worse than wanting you in silence.”

azzi’s eyes softened—glassy, wet. she kissed her then, slow and full of something thick and heavy. paige melted into it. into her.

they shifted, the way they always had—easily, instinctively. azzi’s back hit the pillows next, and paige hovered above her, brushing hair from her forehead with trembling fingers.

their mouths met again and again—soft kisses that deepened, deep kisses that turned into something hot and slow and needy.

azzi tugged paige’s hoodie off. paige kissed a trail down her throat.

there were no rules now.

no fear.

only want.

and between stolen kisses and laughter that slipped from their mouths between gasps, paige whispered against azzi’s skin, “i’ve never wanted anyone like i want you.”

azzi’s hands moved up paige’s back, pulling her closer. “then have me.”

and paige did.

not rushed. not careless. but like a promise she’d been waiting to keep.

the room was quieter now, the soft hum of the outside world muted by the thick, heavy air inside paige’s dorm. the only light was the dim glow from the string lights above, casting long shadows that curled around the bed like a secret.

azzi was still lying next to paige, their legs tangled together beneath the soft sheets. paige’s head rested on azzi’s chest, her breath evening out in that familiar rhythm. it felt like she could stay there forever—pressing herself into azzi’s warmth, soaking in the quiet comfort of having everything she wanted, right in front of her.

azzi’s fingers traced small patterns on paige’s back, the touch so light it was almost imperceptible. it was a touch she’d never been able to offer before, but now it felt like it was meant to be this way—soft, comforting, and full of unspoken words. they didn’t need to talk yet. the silence between them said everything.

“i can’t believe we’re here,” paige whispered, the words so soft they were barely audible, as though saying them out loud might make everything feel too real.

azzi’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath, her hand still slowly drawing circles on paige’s back. “i can,” she said quietly. “i’ve been waiting for this. i’ve been wanting this.”

paige lifted her head just enough to glance up at her, the warmth of her gaze meeting azzi’s tired but content eyes. “you have?” she asked, voice tinged with disbelief. “i always thought i was the only one who felt this way. like, maybe i was just… imagining things.”

azzi smiled, that quiet, knowing smile that made paige’s heart flip in her chest. “you’re not imagining things, paige. you never were.”

paige closed her eyes, letting the weight of that settle over her like a soft blanket. it was the kind of reassurance she didn’t know she needed until now. it felt like something inside her that had been aching for months finally released. it was more than relief—it was peace.

azzi’s hand found paige’s, their fingers intertwining naturally, like it was the easiest thing in the world. the way their hands fit together was a promise in itself—an unspoken understanding that neither of them had to say much. not yet. not now.

“i’ve wanted you for so long,” paige admitted quietly, her voice shaky in a way that made azzi’s chest tighten with affection. “i think i’ve always known i did. i just didn’t know how to say it.”

azzi’s thumb stroked the back of her hand. “you don’t have to say anything, paige. i’ve known. i’ve always known.”

paige’s heart ached with the sweetness of it. she tucked her head back onto azzi’s chest, her fingers tracing the outline of her shoulder, as if trying to memorize the feel of her skin.

azzi’s voice was low, quiet, but sure. “it’s not just the way you look at me, paige. it’s the way you are with me. how you show up, even when you’re unsure. how you care. you make me feel like i’m the only one in the room.”

paige’s breath hitched. she knew she was blushing, she could feel the heat spreading to her cheeks, but it wasn’t just embarrassment. it was something tender, something a little bit raw.

“i guess you’re the only one in the room now,” she said, teasing slightly, though the words were still soft. she shifted just enough to catch azzi’s eyes.

azzi’s smile softened, her fingers brushing the side of paige’s face. “i’m okay with that.”

paige felt her chest tighten again, but this time in a way that felt good. she could still taste azzi on her lips, the softness of her skin still fresh against her fingers. it felt like she was living in this moment, like it had been waiting for them to find it, and now that they had… it was everything.

“i just… i don’t know what to do with myself now,” paige admitted, a little embarrassed by the admission, but also relieved to say it. “like, we’re here. this is real. and i don’t want to mess it up.”

azzi’s laugh was soft, almost a chuckle, as her thumb brushed across paige’s cheek in a comforting motion. “you’re not going to mess it up, paige. you never could. you’ve got all the time in the world.”

paige smiled, feeling that familiar pull in her chest, a soft ache that only azzi could create. “you always know how to make me feel better.”

azzi’s fingers danced to the back of paige’s neck, gently tracing the nape, then running her hand through the strands of paige’s hair. “it’s not hard when i know what you need.”

there was a moment where they just laid there, tangled in the quiet. neither of them spoke, but there was no need to. the silence between them was the kind that only came when you were perfectly at ease with someone. when you didn’t need to fill the space with anything because everything was already said.

“are you staying the night?” paige asked, breaking the silence just enough to feel the weight of it shift.

azzi didn’t hesitate. “yeah. i want to.”

it was all paige needed to hear. she closed her eyes, letting the moment wash over her—letting azzi’s heartbeat steady beneath her ear, letting the warmth of her hand lacing through hers sink in.

as the night stretched on, the air around them settled into a comfortable, almost sacred quiet. the only sounds were their steady breaths, the rustling of sheets, and the soft tick-tock of the clock on the wall, counting away the hours until morning. they both knew they didn’t need to rush. they didn’t need to say anything more.

for the first time in a long time, paige let herself believe that maybe—just maybe—this was how things were meant to be.

and in the quiet of the night, with azzi’s breath steady against her ear, paige finally allowed herself to drift to sleep, knowing she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the sunlight creeping in through paige’s dorm window was too damn bright.

she groaned, squinting one eye open, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar weight draped across her waist.

and then she remembered.

azzi.

wrapped around her like they belonged together. hair a sleepy mess against the pillow, her soft breaths brushing paige’s collarbone, fingers still loosely curled in the hem of paige’s shirt like she’d fallen asleep refusing to let go.

paige couldn’t help it—she stared.

because this version of azzi? this post confession, tangled up in her sheets version? she wasn’t just beautiful. she was home.

azzi stirred, murmuring something paige didn’t quite catch, and burrowed closer.

paige smiled.

“i could get used to this,” she whispered.

azzi’s eyes fluttered open, groggy and heavy-lidded, and met hers. “good,” she said, voice still rough with sleep. “because i’m not leaving anytime soon.”

paige leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “promise?”

azzi just nodded, and that was enough.

they managed to roll out of bed an hour later, not because they wanted to, but because ice had sent paige a very unsubtle text.

ice: lunch. 20 mins. don’t be weird.

ice: if you’re late i will assume it’s for gay reasons

ice: actually you know what. be late. i’m begging you

paige showed the texts to azzi, who just snorted and mumbled, “she knows.”

and she did.

by the time they walked into the dining hall, paige in a hoodie she’d definitely worn the night before and azzi looking suspiciously too happy, the uconn girls were already seated at their usual long table.

ice spotted them first and elbowed jana so hard she nearly dropped her smoothie.

“look who finally decided to show up,” ice said.

jana didn’t even try to be chill. “slept good, huh?”

paige gave them both a flat look. “morning.”

azzi, for her part, looked almost smug as she slid onto the bench beside paige, their knees brushing. she reached for a carton of orange juice like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“you know,” nika said, leaning across the table, “we literally watched you two make heart eyes for months. and now you roll up here looking like… that.”

“like what?” paige said, fighting a smile.

“like you’ve been making out for twelve hours and forgot how to act,” jana said without missing a beat.

azzi bit her lip, cheeks pink, but didn’t deny it.

paige, feeling entirely called out, just sighed. “y’all are annoying.”

ice grinned, wide and evil. “and you’re in love.”

there was a pause. paige looked at azzi. azzi looked at paige.

and then azzi said, quiet but sure, “yeah. i think we are.”

nika literally dropped her phone.

the table exploded.

“no way—she said it—”

“bro. bro.”

“you guys were basically dating anyway,” kk said calmly, sipping her coffee like she’d seen it all coming. “we were just waiting for you two to figure it out.”

azzi hid her face behind her hand, laughing.

paige tried to glare, but she couldn’t stop grinning. “you all suck.”

“we ship it,” jana said sweetly.

ice leaned back with a self-satisfied smirk. “best lunch ever.”

later, when the chaos died down and most of the team had wandered off, paige and azzi stayed behind, still tucked into their side of the table, sipping the last of their drinks in easy silence.

azzi leaned her shoulder against paige’s. “we’re never gonna hear the end of this, huh?”

paige shook her head. “not a chance.”

azzi turned to her, voice low. “worth it, though.”

paige smiled, lacing their fingers together under the table. “yeah. so worth it.”

and with the sun shining through the windows and the warmth of azzi beside her, paige knew—without a doubt—she’d never been happier to be teased in her life.

[moondustbaby]

The Line We Crossed

Bsf! Rafe Cameron x Bsf!Reader

cw: kinda steamy nothing too explicit

Summary: After a party winds down, years of unspoken tension between childhood best friends come to a head when one night finally tips them over the edge. In the quiet of Rafe’s bedroom, desperation and desire collide into something neither of them can take back—and neither of them want to.

⸻

The house was finally quiet. All the laughter, the music, the chaos—it faded out hours ago. Now it was just me and Rafe. His room smelled like ocean air and cologne and something familiar I couldn’t name, something that always felt like him.

I was curled up on his bed, legs bare, the old t-shirt I wore slipping off one shoulder. I could feel his eyes on me—barely there, barely touching—but I felt it like a spark in my spine. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, hair messy, breathing just a little too steady to be casual.

This was normal. We did this all the time. But something about tonight felt… different. Charged. Heavy in the air between us.

“You good?” he asked, voice rough from laughing and yelling over music all night.

I nodded, barely looking at him. “Yeah. You?”

He didn’t answer right away. I looked over, and his gaze was already on me—intense, unreadable.

“I’m tired of pretending,” he said softly, like it hurt to say out loud.

My heart jumped. “Pretending what?”

He leaned in a little, hand reaching out to brush my knee. “That this—us—is nothing.”

I swallowed hard. “Rafe…”

“You’ve felt it too,” he said. “Don’t lie to me.”

And I couldn’t. I never could with him.

“I don’t know when it started,” I whispered. “But it’s always been there.”

He was closer now, kneeling on the bed, one hand sliding up my thigh like he’d been dreaming about it for years. Maybe he had. Maybe I had too.

His fingers touched my jaw, and my whole body froze—burned.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, breath fanning across my lips.

“I don’t want you to.”

Then he kissed me.

And it was nothing like I imagined. It wasn’t soft or hesitant. It was messy, urgent, teeth and lips and years of unsaid things crashing into that single moment. His hands were everywhere—my waist, my hips, slipping beneath the hem of my shirt like he needed to touch me.

Clothes came off fast, clumsy. There was nothing smooth or practiced about it. Just whispered curses and sharp breaths and our bodies tangling like they’d done it a hundred times in our heads. My back hit the mattress, and Rafe hovered over me, looking at me like I was made of something breakable.

“I’ve wanted this,” he said, voice wrecked, “for so fucking long.”

“Then take it,” I told him, my voice shaking. “Take me.”

When he pushed inside, my breath hitched—everything still, quiet for a second like the world held its breath with me.

His forehead pressed to mine, his hand found mine, and he stilled.

“You okay?” he asked, like the world would stop if I said no.

“Better than okay,” I whispered.

He started moving, slow at first—but that didn’t last. Years of tension unraveled between us, all at once. He was everywhere—his mouth on my neck, his hands gripping my thighs, his body grinding into mine like he couldn’t get close enough. Like he never wanted to let go.

I moaned his name, legs tightening around him, nails digging into his shoulders. He kissed me through it, lips bruising and desperate and perfect.

“I’m not letting this be a one-time thing,” he breathed into my skin. “I don’t care if we fuck this up—I’m not going back.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to.

The way I clung to him, gasping his name as I fell apart beneath him—it said enough. And when he followed, groaning against my neck as he collapsed into me, I knew we’d crossed a line we could never come back from.

But I didn’t want to.

We stayed tangled together, breathless and raw, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped tight around me like he thought I might vanish.

“Do you think we ruined it?” I asked, so quiet I almost hoped he wouldn’t hear.

His lips brushed my forehead. “No. I think this is what we’ve been trying not to admit for years.”

And lying there, skin to skin, hearts still racing—I believed him.

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: ahh okay, i only have one smut posted and it’s a bc!rafe and this is not really smut but is that something you guys would like to see?? if yes, send me some ideas 🤩

♥️ lani

Send Me Requests! 💌

Masterlist

[grapenehifics]

One of my favorite activities while watching Revenge of the Sith (to distract myself from the pain, I guess) is finding little moments that had the potential to change everything. Anakin comes so close to turning back and making better choices, so many times. There are many more, but my top three today are:

-Dooku crushes Obi-Wan under a heavy platform and Obi-Wan passes out (??) for a while but then gets up, fights a battle, and seemingly suffers no ill effects whatsoever. What if this were actually treated like a serious spinal injury and not just a convenient way to have Obi-Wan out of the picture so Sidious can convince Anakin to kill Dooku? Obi-Wan is hurt, either temporarily or permanently paralyzed from at least the waist down, and therefore in in the infirmary and obviously in no shape to go to Utapau. Anakin, being obviously concerned about his master, spends all of his meager free time at Obi-Wan's side rather than with Sidious, and harbors no resentment about not going to Utapau (he didn't want to leave Obi-Wan, or Padmé, anyway), and maybe actually manages to take a goddamn nap.

-Speaking of Utapau - on the landing platform, Anakin says he wants to go with Obi-Wan, and that he could be helpful. Obi-Wan agrees that no doubt he would be. What if he actually did it? Obi-Wan's a Master, a General, and a Councillor. I'm sure he has the authority to say, "You know what, you're right, Anakin. Grab your things and let's go." I'm not sure this would be enough to avoid Order 66, but it would keep Anakin out of Sidious' way, and maybe he and Obi-Wan would return to the Temple together, only this time to save the younglings rather than murder them.

-A big part of Sidious' pitch to Anakin is that he and he alone possesses the knowledge to save Padmé (and by extension Anakin and Padmé's unborn child). That's Anakin's whole deal with killing Master Windu - he first tries to argue that Palpatine should stand trial, and it's only after Windu argues against that plan that Anakin takes Palpatine's side. But then immediately after, Palpatine says, and I'm paraphrasing but he basically admits, 'okay so I don't actually know how to save your wife. But uhhh you're really strong in the Force soooo I'm sure together you and I will be able to figure it out."

And Anakin just goes along with this! I realize he doesn't have (or, doesn't think he has, which are two different things) any better options on the table, but it feels very Anakin to me for him to be like, "um, wait a second, my new master. I thought you said you'd tell me how to keep people from dying? Padmé could die tomorrow. We do not have time to sit around in the Sith library and 'figure it out together'. You lied to me!" Anakin hates being lied to. This is an immediately stab-worthy offense.

This of course doesn't address Anakin's raging attachment issues nor his misplaced distrust of the Jedi, but it does prevent the creation of the Empire so all in all I'd take this as a win.

Anyway. I'm deep in the weeds of an entirely different RotS rewrite and don't have time to take on another, much less three, but they're enjoyable scenarios to think about, at least. They don't even need to be endgame Obikin...even if I personally think of them that way :D

[tagedeszorns]

SPOILERS for "Fulgrim - The Perfect Son"

You were warned - Spoilers ahaed!

Okay, so it finally has happened. Pigs are flying, dogs are walking backwards and I am admitting that I'd rather read a Fulgrim-novel written by Graham McNeill than this one.

But to get to this point ... let me take the long route!

First - imagine a novel about a Primarch. Let's say Guilliman, because the Ultramarines are the example for everything. Let's say he returns. (Bear with me, I am not talking about how it actually happened for him!) And it is not explained at all, why he's back. What's his motivation. How? Don't ask stupid questions! Anyways. He's back. Now, what about his Legion? What about Calgar? Sicarius? His Librarius? Well, never mind, they don't matter, because (galaxy brain moment here!) - they don't exist! Instead they are replaced with a cast of new characters you never heard of before, but you are supposed to take as "have always been his favourites". And those characters are as generic as they come. Absolutely bland. Plus, Guilliman isn't even there most of the time. Also, apparently the Emperor is no longer a factor for anything.

That's the setting Jude Reid throws at the reader, just with Emperor's Children.

Okay. Okay. I can live with new characters. But maybe at least tie them with the rich history of the third? With all its glory and trauma? Harmony? Canticle City? The Phoenix Conclave? Anything? No?

Well. Then give them a gratious amount of Sex, Drugs and Rock'nRoll, because that's what they do in 40k? No? A bit? So Noise Marines aren't Slaanesh's sledgehammers any longer? Maybe remember how cool Eidolon and his Kakophonii screamed that White Scars ship to rubble or how Ramos tore down the Medean Gate on Luna? No? And the drugs are just some kind of better stims now? Like the stuff Lance Armstrong takes on a daily basis?

Well. Okay. No History, none of the cool guys ... maybe some Dark Prince-fuckery? No? Oh. The word "Slaanesh" is two times in the whole book and it's with sorcery, not normal EC or Fulgrim? And Dark Prince or She Who Thrirsts ... ah, nevermind. So, no Youngest God at all.

Well, Fulgrim is the mightiest servant of Slaanesh and he's the title character of the novel, so it's okay. Enough slaaneshi shenanigans for everyone! No? Fulgrim is there for about 5% of the novel and we never get his POV? Oh. Okay. Well.

Yes, I am disappointed. After Marc Collins gave us the great new Eidolon novel, I had high hopes Games Workshop wanting to bring out the coolness in the third Legion again.

But instead we got the most generic Chaos (not really) stuff ever. You could replace everybody with Red Corsairs and Fulgrim with the Tyrant and nobody would notice any difference.

And now I am back to the beginning. Why McNeill's EC may be horrible but way better than Reid's.

Because they are over the top. Because they are the superlative of extra. Because they are divas. Because they are trying to be cool AF. Because they are mean fuckers.

Reid's EC are what I always thought I wanted (my Midas-moment, if you will): Swordsmen. Duelists. But it turns out, that it is possible to fall to Slaanesh and hate excess (yes, Tamaris, the main char, is very offended by excess). Damn, girl! Take a page out of Ian StMartin's book and look up what excessive swordsmanship does for Lucius!

So, taking everything slaaneshi from the EC didn't do them any good. Apparently they are now Chaos Undivided, swear by "Gods" instead of their chosen patron God and such. Much generic. Wow. Sacrificing like they are the Word Bearers we have at home.

The ideal solution would be a mix of both: McNeill's extra queerness (because Reid's chars are giving off the most cis-het vibes I ever got from anything Warhammer! Even the Chaos Sorcerer reminiscing fucking Fulgrim is as sterilised as possible. I bet Reddit-Warhammer loves this book, because none of them pesky gays and their sexytimes!) and excessiveness and Reid letting them keep their beauty and dignity. It's very telling that the most erotic moment of the book is the main character kissing the guy he just killed.

Because that's the GREAT plus of this book. Finally! Beautiful Emperor's Children! Beautiful Fulgrim! Plaese, give me more of this! And they are (mostly) honourable! Awww, yiss! Yes, Reid is falling back into the way too familiar "uglyness and betrayal"-trope soon enough, but an effort was made.

But that's not enough to work as saving grace.

The novel is very clearly what @paniwarhamauser called "saturday morning cartoons to sell toys", because every buyable unit is mentioned and described very clearly.

But what this book is lacking, is a soul. An understanding for the EC's (and Fulgrim's - but the Phoenician barely features in the novel, so I will leave him out on this) unique tragedy, drama, history and power.

I am glad we got the great "Auric Hammer"-book (please let Marc Collins write more for EC! He gets them! Raging Eidolon gives me life!). And we still have Josh Reynold's superb Fulgrim-novel. But this new one is not for me.

I mean, we EC-fans have a lot of great novels and stories, compared to other Legions (poor Raven Guard for example). So I really shouldn't complain.

Well, rant over, I am calm and collected again and will continue reading the pleasant Alpha Legion-stuff I have left for the Fulgrim novel (may contain traces of Fulgrim). 😁

[violetvines]

okay, so new theory:

disclaimer: i haven't reread the books in a long time, so i might have some facts wrong, and some of this may not make sense but it's been in my head for a while

what if everything tobias hawthorne did to his grandsons (the saturday morning games, training them to be better, faster, stronger) had a bigger reason? we all think that he did it because he was crazy and he basically made grayson a living robot and jameson a masochistic ticking time-bomb – but what if everything he did to them was warranted? (i am not defending him in any way, just thinking of possibilities)

we know that tobias hawthorne's game is finished... but it looks like alice hawthorne's game is just beginning

in the brothers hawthorne, tobias was asked if they would ever get to meet alice, and he replied "you're not ready to meet her yet" or something along the lines of them needing to be ready to meet her

we also know that tobias knew that alice had been alive this whole time but she never returned to live at the house and she never even attended the funeral as far as we know

which makes me believe that alice hates tobias – but why?

it could be because of odette – maybe she found out about their r/s or... it could be how tobias seemed to favour toby (not their son by blood) over his own children (skye and zara) – who knows how petty alice is...

alice seems to want to cut herself off from being a hawthorne and she doesn't seem to care about her grandsons (she nearly killed jameson and threatened to hurt anyone else he told which, if he did do, would definitely include his brothers)

let's go back to the part where tobias said that "they weren't ready to meet her yet"

what if it wasn't meant to be a cordial family occasion? what if they were supposed to meet her in a different way, aka now? what if "ready" meant that the day she sought them out?

jameson saw her in prague (and idk it's just so weird she happened to be in that street at the time he was, so she probably planned it as a warning of some sorts)

and i think this connects to tobias because she might hate him, but seeing how unhinged she is, she might be like "i love you so i won't hurt you, but i'll be after your legacy, i'll be after your grandsons"

so the reason why tobias needed to prepare them in that way (basically do what he did), was because he needed to prepare them for what would be alice's game – and this time, it wouldn't be a saturday morning game – it would be a game of life or death, because that woman doesn't seem afraid of hurting people

one more thing in the brothers hawthorne – tobias told grayson "some day it's going to be you" – and all of us, and grayson, thought it was the inheritance... but he never did specify what it was about

what if it was never about the inheritance?

what if it was something related to alice's game? what if he meant that someday, it was going to be grayson who would put a stop to this, and free them from alice?

grayson is part of the grandest game rn and it seems like alice's influences are on that island too – so he's a key player in this and would have the opportunity to face down with whatever alice has in mind (not to say the rest of them like nash, jameson, xander and avery won't but...)

idk but to me, it seems like alice is far more dangerous than tobias... and he always did say that there is nothing frivolous about a way a hawthorne man loves and he said "if she is the one, she will destroy you"

i honestly don't know where this is coming from but here it is anyway~

[quietlyimplode]

Natasha & Tony

"You need to go home. Shower, eat, sleep. I'll keep watch. Nothing can get past my twin defense of caffeine and insomnia. You'll know the second something happens. "

"You need to go home. Shower, eat, sleep. I'll keep watch. Nothing can get past my twin defense of caffeine and insomnia. You'll know the second something happens. "

Tony eyes her off.

“You think your insomnia is more powerful than mine?”

Natasha laughs. So tired in both their faces, when both smile it doesn’t reach their eyes.

“I think I could out insomnia you, any day.”

Tony shakes his head.

“Doubt it, Red.”

“I don’t,” she retorts. “Now go. I’ll call you. I promise. Go sleep; go give Pepper a kiss or a high five or where ever you guys are up to these days.”

“He’ll be okay, I promise.”

She looks over Steve’s body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“We just need to wait for him to wake up. This wasn’t your fault. We all know it and so does he.”

Tony takes another look at his friend and sighs.

“Maybe I can sleep here,” he reasons.

“Maybe, but I think you need a shower, and to eat something other than a chocolate bar.”

“Get Pepper to cook something for you, and Bruce is coming soon.”

Tony glances at the time.

“I promise, I promise if anything changes I’ll call you, okay?”

She stands with him, gentle hands pushing him out the door.

“Nothing will happen,” she whispers, “we’ll be okay, I’ll send some pictures and and some video if it makes you feel better but please even 3 hours of sleep is better than the nothing you’ve had.”

Tony ducks his head.

“Fine. Fine. But you promised.”

Natasha nods solemnly, “I promised.”

He takes one last look at his friend and leaves.

Retaking her position in the vacated chair, Natasha takes Steve’s hand, squeezing it gently.

“You wouldn’t blame him for your stupidity, who jumps off a building? Planes are different, you oaf. And off a building into a fire? Yeah you’re super human, but actually the smoke damages your lungs just as much as anyone elses.”

She sits back.

“Idiot,” she swears in Russian.

“Stay asleep a little longer to let Tony have some sleep, and to let yourself heal. I’m going to sit here and write up the stupid mission report so that both of you can see that you’re both idiots.”

Natasha pulls her phone out, the glow of the screen illuminating her face.

7 text messages.

3 Clint, 2 Tony and 2 Bruce.

A missed call from Pepper.

She starts there.

A message to tell Pepper that Tony was on his way, and he needed sleep. Better safe than sorry.

It’s met with a reply of thanks, and that she’ll handle it.

Natasha breathes a sigh of relief. If anyone can handle Tony better than her, it’s Pepper.

Clint, next.

Two of the messages in Arabic, and a third with the cypher key.

She decodes them easily, and is glad he’s safe in Iran.

He must have seen the news.

Replying with his same coding, she assures him that everything is fine and his mission can continue. No need to come home.

To Tony she sends pictures and an assurance than everything is the same as twenty minutes ago, and to Bruce she sends the same.

She knows she should be tired, but she’s not.

3.18am.

She’s been awake for almost 24 hours.

Steve stirs and she takes his hand again.

“Sleep,” she tells his unconscious mind.

And he seems to settle.

The real reason for her phone- the mission report; stares at her blankly.

“Okay, we can do this,” she says to no one listening.

“Start at the beginning.”

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Hi I am going to complain about Eito from 100 line now. Warning for spoilers from day 98 onwards and a BUNCH of routes. Just to be clear, he is my favorite and i love him, my complaints come from love only.

OKAY SO UH, Eito 100% has a komaeda-style heel turn towards the back end of the game and reveals himself to be NOT on your side at all. Very cool very sexy. I was anticipating this, hoping for it, fingers crossed begging for it. There's a very sexy sprite where he is winking and covered in blood, it makes me insane. NOW, the reason i am MAD, is because his motive is just....lame....and dumb....and bad. It honestly kinda ruined him for me. It's nonsensical. NOW, i must clarify that i don't have the time, nor energy to finish all the routes but i have consulted a friend who has already done so, and will be leaning on him a little bit here, but even his assertions that his motive does have SOME legitimacy is not enough to make me calm down so. Eito, sees all humans as monsters. literally, visually, smell-ually (not a word). he claims this is due to a birth defect. First of all, if this is how all humans have always looked, then you wouldn't......consider them monsters? why would you be disgusted by them if you have never known any different, had no point for comparison? Second of all, how boring, how lame, how stinky. It has none of that emotional depth or comprehensive motivation that uhhhhh.....my favorite guy komaeda has. It's just "i hate all humans, they smell, i read a book about WW2 once." couldnt he have just been a regular person abandoned by the system? Determined to send a message? That would be surface level but at least it would be emotive and understandable. Now, my friend who has actually finished the routes has some clarifications, so ill be going by what he has said here, but FIRST. if you are reading this and dont already know what happens after day 98 then BOY HOWDY do i have some news for you. So. Eito fucks everything up and ruins your plans. hes so cool. you kill him and doing so gain some immense power that allows you to GO BACK IN TIME and try again. very cool genuinely very cool (would have been cooler if i didnt have to play 30 hours of pretty boring game to get to it, but okay). Here is where the routes come in. You get to redo the 100 days and each route is a different attempt based on your choices. Now my friend says, that some of these routes do contain more explanations about Eito and imply that his 'disease' was implanted into him by a group that wants humanity dead and that he is a plant. Now. i dont hate that, BUUUUUUT, why did they have to do that at all? Why not just....send down a guy who hates humans and get him to do the dirty work without having to mess around in his brain? And DONT say that they need someone with hemoanima and maybe there was no one on the team who fit the bill because NOZOMI is right there and she snuck in without hemoanima soooooo. W/e, it doesnt fix the problem TO ME, especially since you aren't always going to learn this and learning it doesnt fix the hours i already spent being angry about it lol, if it was something that could happen at the beginning of the route and actually 'fix' eito that would be interesting, but apparently you can only do this around day 60-ish in various routes. Now the reason i say these complaints come from love only, is because i really really liked eito. he was cute, i liked his design, i even support him hating and wanting to kill me. i just think his motive does the game a disservice because it just doesnt have enough interesting layers DESPITE him being otherwise very well written and fun to talk to. he can be such a little shit in the re-dos where he doesnt need to pretend to be nice anymore and i LOVE IT, i just wish it came from a place of more narrative cohesion. There were so many other ways the could have done it, and HONESTLY there are even ways they could have better resolved what they were already working with by giving more solid answers instead of just 'implying' his disease may not actually be genetic. Implication has its merits, but in a game with this many endings, you would hope that at least one of them gives a sufficient explanation, but whatever, that's just my onion.

[airose2024]

Taking this moment in.

Taking this moment to show gratitude for the people in my life.

Larissa, Meli, Anna, Keve, Cillian, Vanessa, Barack, Nick, Pip, even Jack.

I am so lucky to be able to say so many names, who I can call my closest friends. Who I can really always count on. Who will always have my back, no matter what.

These are the people it’s worth going for and working myself through the hardest days. Because these people are the ones who make me appreciate life.

They make me appreciate the smallest moments: just a little giggle at each other, a smile, a shared feeling, an arm around you when you’re weeping or just silence for comfort.

Friendships, human connections, experiencing a moment the same way, experiencing joy and laughter, as well as tears and hardships.

It’s the connections that make it all worth it.

The people who know you. The real you. The you, who doesn’t hide anything just to be polite or just to be respectful.

The people who see the real you, and love you for it.

There will always be hardships.

Live life for the joy and the pain of it.

Be in love for the joy and pain lain of it.

You might feel lonely sometimes. Maybe sometimes those times last a long time, months even. Maybe sometimes it’s only thirty minutes that it hits you so hard, you lose the will to even be.

But remember that you are not alone. You’re never alone. You can count on so so many people and the you, you were only two years ago would give anything in the world to have even one of these people around her.

Appreciate and acknowledge the growth that you are and have been going through.

Don’t you dare hate yourself. At this age, you’re ought to make mistakes. You’re ought to make the wrong moves so that you won’t do them ten-twenty-thirty years later. You are ought to say the wrong things and mess things up because how else are you gonna learn? Stop giving yourself so much hate because you said the wrong thing ~last night~ or didn’t act in the way you’d expect yourself to do so.

This is all a learning experience. You are not going to make the same mistakes a thousand times over so just give yourself a break and remember that everything is temporary.

Something I’ve learned by becoming part of this friends group (Pulse) is that things happen all the time, but if you have the right people around you, then judgement is not even on the table. Because there’s a lot of bad-mouthing being given by my other friend group (Music community) but here I have learned that no matter how much you mess up, they will not judge you, they will not think of you in a different way, and a few days or just hours later there will be someone else who messes it up.

A lot of things in life don’t have as much weight as we give to it.

Did you become way too vulnerable when you were drunk? Let it be. Wear your heart on your sleeves.

You became angry at someone or something? That’s okay. It’s a natural way to express that something’s hurt you, and even though it might not be the best way, but at least you’re voicing that you have feelings and they were hurt. It’s always better to voice your feelings, than just completely shutting down. Emotional vulnerability is a gift, and wear it proudly because it’s not a given. Many people are not able to voice or even face their feelings, and the fact that you are able to, you should never be ashamed of.

Be proud of the ways you are able to work.

Be in love with youself in the healthiest way, becayse you deserve it so much.

“Things will happen in your life that you can’t stop. But that’s no reason to shut out the world.”

— Unknown

[zoieru]

I LOVE THIS @guujikaroko omghdhsjsjaggag thank you so much for this I love this hold on ofhdjsus okay okay

The gojou satoru ahshajaaaaaaa I love you're so right (I love them both it's terminal I'm afraid *sigh* have you met dazai too? Yeah, seems I have a type)

OKAY the analysis.

Thank you so much for going into so much detail, I'm glad my perceptions were in the right direction (I cannot believe that I did not once use the word condescending I am very upset because that's exactly what I was trying to say but I'll cut myself a touch of slack since I wrote this in one sitting @-@)

Yes, exactly. He sounds condescending, he sounds annoyingly playful, like he gets right on your nerves, and he's being overly sweet with his cadence while being a little shit~ I am so interested to see like JUST how rude he is to a Japanese person here.

Here's the thing then. I think it might make SOME sense, then, the way they did (or directed) the en version. Though it isnt the original, maybe they were trying to get the same effect, the same level of 'offence' as it were, from his lines. But I'm still of the opinion that the way JP does it is better.

In en, hes literally just pissy and shitty, that's it. He's annoyed. In jp he doesn't get annoyed he is ANNOYING he's playing like I said. I just love this version, the playful little shitness that makes you want to strangle him.

And yk the fact I still am intrigued by him in jp after he's been a little shit is allowed more I suppose by the fact I don't experience those very disrespectful word endings and things a JP speaker would, but still get everything else. So it like doesn't quiteee meet the mark of being really offensive, it just pisses me off. (Also he's supposed to be at least slightly redeemable-able right, not just the biggest truest dickhead that you hate and then gets a sobby backstory)

It makes perfect sense for aventurine to be like that. He shrouds himself in the status and armour of silly intelligent superiority, that's his whole thing. It's the character he plays, the performance he does, he's a peacock for fsakee.

If you want to yap more please do~ don't feel like it's too much I was planning to do more scenes this way, just because I find it fun, and see how in each bit (I'm especially interested in the last and important parts of his arc) it differs, having your input has been so good !!

An unnecessarily detailed analysis of the differences in perceptions and characterisation between the EN and JP versions of Aventurine ~ (voicelines included)

DISCLAIMERS~

this is not - in any way, shape, or form - hate on either voice actor, it's just my opinions, of course !! they are different interpretations and deliveries of the character. it shouldn't have to be said that you are right to prefer which ever one you prefer, because you're you <3

I cannot speak or understand japanese, but am exposed to it often through anime and playing some of my games in jp. So I appreciate my perceptions of cadence may be skewed by that :3 it would be cool if someone who does could discuss this too and whether they agree with my points !!

So...I'm doing this because it was stuck on my mind and I couldn't draw today since my arm hurts and i needed something else to do ~ I genuinely think your perception of Aventurine as a character could be very different based on your 'version' you experienced !!

so if you have some time to spare, any interest in this or Aven, or kinda hate Aven and are open to someone changing your mind... let us begin on this journe- lol. im not gonna do that. lets just get into it ~

this is gonna be an analysis of the differences in voiceline delivery in terms of feel and implications. at the end of each set of voicelines i also give a little summary in terms of the 'goal' of that version of Aventurine by giving the line that way.

So this is the first time we meet him, interrupting us in the line at the desk to check in. Listen to his EN version ~

Hotel security is on high alert with zero room for error. And with such a last minute change it really isnt something that this young lady's words can resolve on a whim. My esteemed guests from the astral express - please do not make it harder for her.

Now the instant feeling I get from this is...this guy deems himself a sort of authority, and his voice is heavily lilted with this kind of exaggerated-authority figure-admonishment while his words are still polite. The emphasis is very pointed, very very close to sarcastic. 'sUch a lAst mInute change' ~ he's being rude, essentially, through a very close-to-boundary passive aggression. The way he said esteemed guests, astral express, and the plea, its clear in his words he's almost exasperated by them already. Which is like ?? okay? why? or is this guy just a bit of a dick? - those are my thoughts upon meeting him like this, like...whats this guy's problem.

Now the jp version ~

The feel is rather instantly different. Here, he approaches in a sort of semi-polite intrusion, but still maintaining the sense of authority and knowing. It's matter of fact. He has a sort of ~ to his tone, right? Like he's being a bit passive aggressive but in a gentle almost melodic way, subtle, rather than the voice kinda dripping with 'you guys suck and are causing problems'. The feel I get from this is still like...uh who is this guy, but I don't feel instantly super like hey tf this guy is rude. He isn't outright rude, or admonishing, and he isn't sarcastic either. He doesn't act like 'esteemed guests' is a jab, he means it but has this lilt that makes you think he might not quiteee mean it inside, like you cant tell if he's quite genuine. This is the thing.

The point of Aventurine, his whole thing, is that you cant quite tell if he's being genuine or not. That's what makes you think, makes you squirm, makes you lose your mind over whether you can trust him or he's playing you. That's how he plays his game, his world. The jp one does this effectively instantly from the first line. The en one doesn't give me that impression. I don't feel like he's intelligent and shrewd and wonder if he's playing me, wonder what his deal is, I think he's being a dick. This obviously doesn't have to be clear in every damn line delivery, but in his introduction, and at a time where he IS making a play~ the mood should be set.

EN Aven Goal - pick a bit of a fight, impose status, put them down

JP Aven Goal - suggest status, input presence, subtly jibe

This only increases with the next line I'm focusing on, which is after they ask him who he is. EN version ~

-subordinate to supervisor Diamond. I was cordially invited by the Watchmaker. I also happen to be a traveller that's had to stand behind you for quite a while.

Now, heh, listen. This line honestly makes me laugh so much like... im gonna give you how it sounds to me through the eloquent use of emojis okay:

'sUperVisOr dIaMOnD' 😏😎 i was CORDIALLY invited by - the w a t c h m a k e r~~~~ 💅🏼😌☝🏼🤓 i also happen to be a traveller that's had to stAND behind you for qUiTe a wHiLe 😏😏😏

like...let me take a guy seriously lsdjkdkjsdsdk and listen listen. I KNOW he's supposed to be over the top here. Just the line itself without the voice over is snarky and 😏☝🏼🤓 okay? That's how he is sometimes. But the delivery is DRIPPING in sarcasm and derision. There is NO SUBTLETY even a bit. lol sigh, just listen to the jp~

instantly different. matter of fact, but still cocky and self important, subtle jabs without being rude or sarcastic. He doesn't use the fact he was invited as like...a show of coolness, he just says it like - yes, i was invited by him 😌☝🏼 because why would he? of course he could be invited, hes fucking ipc bro? thats not a flex. and especially when he says the last part about standing behind you - its more like a 'heheh, alas ~' not like ewwwyy peasants im standing behind you, dont you know. He is shrewd, careful, and incredibly eloquent with his speech. He doesn't use it to jab he uses it to play a melodic song of making someone a bit bewildered but impressed by him. His delivery is playful. That little stilted words part, its like a playful passive aggressive jab. He's not actually bothered.

Why would he be interested in picking beef with and looking down upon, which is what he is doing in the EN version, the astral express? There is no reason. This guy is literally interested in the opposite of that, even if he doesn't like people he uses them to his gain, the literal dialogue written here and as the story continues continuously perpetuates that he is trying to get in good/okay graces with them (and others, that's literally his mo) and he can use them and manipulate if needed. It makes no logical sense for him to be so rude here. he is rude with his words and suggestions, but its passive aggression like its supposed to be, not outright rudeness like EN.

EN Aven Goal - shove status down their throats, be a rude boy

JP Aven Goal - feigned nonchalance stating status, gentle prodding and testing with a sort of hehe not quite rudeness

The next one -

just...listen - EN ~

*sigh* I've been waiting here for more than 10 minutes. Do you know how many credits 10 minutes is worth to me?

This is just pure derision. Contempt. The line itself is, too, regardless of delivery. He is being a pp here. In the second half of the line, you can hear him almost grit his teeth. credits, minutes, worth. he's alllmost spitting the words. hissing. He is pissed off, getting actually angry about it, it seems. So self superior.

But listen - JP ~

Exasperated, a bit frustrated, but weary. He's like 'oh goodness, sigh, im wasting so much time here~'. You can almost tell he's playing it up, it still feels almost playful to me, like he's testing, being a cock but stifling a bit of a smirk and feigning a slightly overdramatic sigh. Its melodic, you can imagine him tilting his head and lifting an eyebrow, right?

And this makes so much more sense. The guy isn't in a rush. It's revealed later he literally had that room, and just strolled there and met them before the trailblazer got there. He's playing. He's being his stupid shrewd annoying playful self. Why would he get angry just to get angry? It doesn't fit with his character, or his motives. Why would the Aventurine get actively pissed off with some randos for no reason?

It would also make sense for him to play with this aspect of himself and his role. We know from later events Aventurine really doesn't deeply identify or hold much 'love' for his status or role, other than for specific reasons. It's like a double entendre, he's playing with you, and he's making a subtle joke with himself by playing up this act that he's just some money hungry asshole like his superiors are. Because he's smart. He's not just...an asshole.

EN Aven Goal - make sure his status is shoved so far into their large intestine that they have a baby bump - just coz

JP Aven Goal - sighing and being rather overdramatic in a jibing playful manner, being annoying, still toying with his status

One more set for this scene (and post) (i would apologise but im not sorry im sorry dshjsdjsd YOU CHOSE TO BE HERE ilu.) Here he is after Himeko suggests a solution. EN ~

If I do something about it now, the time saved is from my own effort. Not a favour from you all.

Heh he's such a prick honestly /aff. lil shit. so, again, the line itself is rather turn-nose-up cheeky asshole type stuff that makes you wanna smack him and roll your eyes simultaneously. The delivery, again, is very: ☝🏼😌 and then 😒🙄. The way he's like 'nOT from YOU' all is sooooooooo childish, sarcastic, icky. like meh, eh, i throw my juicebox on the floor after ive pestered you to open it for me for three hours. the emphasis on the 'you' gives the clear implication he is derisive of 'you', not fond of 'you', and see's 'you' as beneath him in a sardonic and mean manner.

JP~

Matter of fact, playful, still a little shit. He's being purposefully irritating, he's not irritated. That's the clear difference here. Aventurine through this whole exchange has been, in the JP version, unflappable. He gives this effortless air of authority while making subtle clever half-jabs that make you both slightly flustered, confused, irritated, and intrigued the whole time. He is a charmer, a weaver of well placed webs.

This, to me, is how I prefer it. His theme, his thing, is playing. Cards, poker, life, anything. He plays, he gambles, and he never shows his emotions much behind that ever present smile - as said in his wiki page even. He is a man of subtlety, one that you can never quite work out and he wants it that way. And I think the jp version of him does that for me ~

Overall, for me, a summary of what I'm taking away from this exchange with him in both versions is:

EN Aven Goal - ??? wanted to be a dick, flaunt status

JP Aven Goal - flaunting, being difficult and annoying, but finding it a bit amusing? what's this guy's deal, anyway?

I think that's the thing. I would totally understand and be quite with you if you didn't like Aventurine from this scene alone if you played the EN. He is a character that is being a dick just...because? Thinks you're below him, puts himself into your business for no reason, etc. etc. I don't like him, like this.

But coming away from the JP one, I'm intrigued. I'm slightly ruffled, a bit irritated and confused, but intrigued. I want to know what his deal is. It draws me to him, almost begrudgingly. That's what's so beautiful about a character like this.

Both VA's are awesome and did a great job in different ways ~ Its cool to me how such a different feel for a character can be gleaned from the same lines but different deliveries. I'll probably make more parts of this through the game <3

None of these voice-overs belong to me. © All rights reserved by miHoYo. Other properties and any right, title, and interest thereof and therein (intellectual property rights included) not derived from Honkai: Star Rail belong to their respective owners. JP VO © Mouse Production Co., Ltd. EN VO © GG Talent Group. All rights reserved.

I obtained these clips from playthroughs on youtube in their respective languages. jp - Gudaoko. en - Rubhen925.

[cuteniaarts]

Digitalised + coloured + redesigned version of my Suiren and Vaatu sketch from two days ago, as promised!!

Coming up with Suiren’s design was a very long process of trying and failing because after you’ve drawn 9+ different versions of one character, the creativity starts to run a little dry, but I’m actually really proud of this one, she looks absolutely adorable <3

(Also yeah I did mostly just scribble Vaatu’s pattern because who has the energy to draw the all out accurately. Not me, that’s who, I’m chronically tired. People who draw him on the regular have my utmost respect. He’s still a funky little guy though :D)

Bonus, Raava incessantly screaming inside Suiren (and being completely ignored because Suiren is tired of her) while all this is happening:

[quirkle2]

as a huge spyro year of the dragon fan i Hate the reignited trilogy they took all the charm and nostalgia out of it BUT ... spyro's walking/running animation ? they perfected that.

[prosebushpatch]

Was trying to figure out why Hansel and Gretel randomly appeared in a book I was reading, with candy house backstory and everything, in a story that otherwise was not directly informed by a specific fairy tale. At least to my knowledge, it all felt pretty original, until the villainous antagonist started spinning straw into gold and mentioned being betrayed by a miller's daughter and I cupped my head in my hands like, ah, th-the way to defeat him... they gotta figure out his true name... this whole time... he's been rumpelstiltskin.