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hereforuconnwbb · 2 days ago

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The Study of Us - CHAPTER 6

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 9.7k

warning: language

hey guyssss !! heres chapter 6 FINALLY 😭 ik i’ve been slacking a bit and kinda hit a wall towards the end, so it took me a while to push through—but i made it eventually 😃... ngl, i don’t love this chapter, it honestly just felt like a bunch of random yappa yappa, but i still wanted to get it out to you guys instead of delaying it any longer. i tried to edit it as best i could even though i was rushing a bit, so if there are any small mistakes just ignore them pls 🙏🏽 still, i hope you guys enjoy it !! 🥲🫶🏽

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Azzi woke slowly. For a few seconds, she stayed still, blinking up at the ceiling, her body wrapped in that hazy in-between state where dreams and reality blurred together. She could still feel the lingering weight of Paige’s hug, the warmth of her arm draped around her shoulders, the soft rasp of her voice saying goodnight.

A small, almost involuntary smile crept onto Azzis lips.

She stretched lazily, her muscles sore from the 1v1 last night, a pleasant kind of ache that reminded her of how hard they’d gone at it. But even with the soreness, there was a lightness in her chest she couldn’t quite explain. It had been a while since she’d felt something like that—easy, real, comfortable.

After a few more minutes of lying there, she finally rolled over and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. It was later than she thought, almost 9:30 am but for once, she didn’t feel guilty about sleeping in. She unlocked her screen and saw a text from Paige, sent late last night after they said goodbye.

Paige: had a lot of fun tn. sleep well, Az 💗

Azzi stared at the screen, her heart flipping just once in her chest before settling into a steady thrum. The little heart emoji made her feel way more flustered than it probably should have. She bit her bottom lip, grinning down at the phone for a second before setting it face-down beside her.

Get a grip, she told herself, still smiling.

She threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cool against her skin, and she shivered slightly as she padded over to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. As she stared at herself in the mirror, patting her skin dry with a towel, she noticed something she hadn’t really seen in a while, an unmistakable brightness in her own eyes.

Maybe it was the game. Maybe it was the late-night walk. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

Azzi shrugged on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, feeling the familiar comfort of her usual lazy-day outfit. She strolled barefoot into the small kitchen area, yawning as she started to make coffee. The smell filled the room almost immediately—rich, warm, grounding.

She leaned against the counter, cup in hand once it was ready, and scrolled absentmindedly through her phone. No new texts yet, not from Paige at least. She wasn’t sure if she should text first or wait. She had said she’d text when she woke up, but technically, she was awake now…

She shook her head, laughing softly at herself. Since when did she get nervous about texting someone ?

Azzi wandered over to the window and pushed it open a crack, letting the cool air drift in. Outside, campus was slowly coming alive—students walking to and from brunch spots, some heading to the gym, others sprawled out on the grass with textbooks and coffee. The world felt peaceful this morning, like it was moving just a little slower.

She sipped her coffee and let her mind drift.

Every time she thought about last night—Paige's arm around her, her laugh filling the quiet air, the softness in her voice as they said goodbye, Azzi felt her chest get a little tighter. Not in a bad way. Just in a way that made her notice.

There had always been something magnetic about Paige, even when Azzi had tried not to notice it. But last night felt different. It wasn’t just admiration or awe or friendship. It was something smaller and quieter, slipping beneath her skin when she wasn’t looking.

Azzi shook her head again, smiling into her cup. “Get it together,” she muttered under her breath.

She finished her coffee slowly, watching the clouds shift lazily across the blue sky. She didn’t have much planned for the day—maybe a little homework, maybe a run later if she felt like it. But mostly, she was just waiting. Waiting for a text from Paige. Waiting for an excuse to see her again.

Azzi set her empty cup in the sink and grabbed her laptop, settling onto the couch with a blanket tucked around her legs. She opened a textbook on the side, pretending she was going to study, but her mind wasn’t really on her notes. It kept drifting back to the way Paige had looked at her last night like maybe she didn’t want to leave either.

She let herself sink into the memory for a while, the edges of it blurring into something softer, sweeter.

There was a part of her that worried maybe she was reading too much into it. Maybe to Paige it was just a fun night between friends. But deep down, under the nerves and the second-guessing, Azzi felt something she couldn’t ignore. A pull. A possibility.

And it scared her just a little.

But it also made her want to lean into it, just a little more.

Azzi glanced at her phone again, hesitating for a second before unlocking it. Her thumb hovered over Paige’s contact name, heart tapping against her ribs. She had just remembered that last night she did invite Paige over today and that she would message first to let her know.

After a moment of quiet, she typed out a simple message:

Azzi: morning. hope u slept well. lmk when you’re up for today :)

She stared at it for a second, then hit send before she could overthink it.

Setting the phone down again, Azzi curled deeper into the couch, letting the slow, steady hum of the morning fill the room.

—---------------------------------

Paige stood in front of the mirror, the cool water from the shower still dripping off her skin as she wrapped a towel around her body. The steam from the bathroom lingered in the air, making her feel like she had just come back from something warmer than just a typical morning routine. She stared at her reflection for a moment longer than usual, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she thought about last night. About Azzi.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d been looking forward to today, but now, as she dried her hair and got dressed, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Her heart fluttered at the thought of hanging out with Azzi, just the two of them, without any of the usual distractions. She quickly threw on a pair of black sweatpants and a simple hoodie, tying her hair up into a messy bun. The final touch was slipping on her favorite pair of crocs, the ones she wore when she wanted to feel comfortable and at ease.

Paige glanced at her phone, checking the time before deciding she had a few more minutes to get ready. The message from Azzi was still fresh in her mind: morning. hope u slept well. lmk when you’re up for today :)

She smiled to herself, tapping out a quick reply:

Paige: hey, good morning. i js finished showering, so im bout to head over. cant wait to see you

She hit send, her excitement bubbling to the surface. It felt so easy, this new dynamic between them.

After a few minutes, her phone buzzed. She picked it up, and Azzi’s message made her heart skip a beat

Azzi: perfect timing !! im starting to make bacon and eggs for breakfast—thought u could join me when u get here

A soft laugh escaped Paige’s lips. Bacon and eggs, she thought, as she imagined the warmth of Azzi’s dorm and the simple comfort of being with her. She felt her pulse quicken, but she shook her head at herself, trying to stay grounded. This wasn’t a big deal. They were just two people hanging out. Nothing more.

Paige quickly grabbed her keys before heading out of her dorm, her mind still lingering on the thought of breakfast with Azzi. As she made her way across campus, the cool air was a welcome contrast to the warmth she felt inside. She took the familiar path toward Azzi’s dorm, her thoughts drifting between the little moments they’d shared so far—the game last night, the hug outside the dorm, the way Azzi’s smile had made her heart flip. She hadn’t expected any of this to happen. Not like this. But now that it was, she didn’t want it to stop.

When she reached Azzi’s dorm, she knocked lightly on the door, the soft sound echoing in the otherwise quiet hallway. A few moments passed, and then the door swung open. Azzi stood there, looking effortlessly comfortable in her sweatpants and hoodie, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She was barefoot, her socks tucked into a pair of slippers, and she smiled warmly as she greeted Paige.

“Hey,” Azzi said, stepping aside to let Paige in. “I was just about to start cooking.”

Paige grinned back, feeling a wave of comfort wash over her as she stepped into Azzi’s space. It felt familiar already, even though she hadn’t spent much time here before. Azzi’s dorm was cozy, cluttered in a way that felt inviting and real. She could smell the faint scent of coffee mixed with the savory promise of breakfast.

Azzi closed the door behind them, her hands moving instinctively to the stove, where a pan was heating up. “You can sit down if you want,” she said casually, but there was a certain softness in her tone that made Paige’s heart race a little faster.

Instead of sitting right away, Paige took a few steps closer to Azzi. The two of them just stood there for a second, neither of them saying anything, but the silence felt comfortable, not awkward. Paige moved without thinking, stepping into Azzi’s personal space just enough to close the distance. Azzi looked up, eyes soft, and then Paige found herself pulling her into a hug.

Azzi’s arms wrapped around Paige almost instantly, her face pressing into the crook of Paige’s neck. Paige felt a small sigh escape Azzi’s lips, the kind of sigh that was warm and content. She couldn’t help but rest her cheek on the top of Azzi’s head, closing her eyes as they stood there, holding each other. The feeling between them was so natural, so easy, that Paige didn’t want to pull away.

Azzi was warm against her, her chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths, and Paige felt like time slowed down just a little bit. She let her arms tighten around Azzi, feeling the softness of her hoodie beneath her fingertips, and smiled softly to herself. This moment, standing there in Azzi’s dorm with her arms around her, felt like something she could hold on to forever.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved. It wasn’t an awkward hug or an intense one, just 2 people holding each other in a way that felt completely natural. Paige’s heart fluttered a little at the feeling, the simplicity of the connection.

Finally, Azzi pulled away just slightly, but only enough to look up at Paige. She smiled, a quiet, genuine smile that made Paige’s chest swell a little. “I guess breakfast is on hold until you get settled in,” Azzi teased lightly, her voice soft.

Paige chuckled, stepping back slightly. “I’m already settled,” she replied, a little breathless, still feeling the echo of their embrace in her chest.

Azzi laughed quietly, moving toward the stove. “Alright, well, you’ll just have to wait a minute. Bacon and eggs coming right up.”

Paige took a seat at the small table, her eyes lingering on Azzi as she moved around the kitchen. Her heart still raced, but in the best possible way.

—---------------------------------

The smell of sizzling bacon and eggs filled the room, and Paige couldnt help but smile as Azzi worked efficiently, moving around the small kitchen with ease. The soft sizzle of the pan was the only sound breaking the comfortable silence between them, and Paige just sat there, her eyes never really leaving Azzi as she prepared their breakfast.

Azzi glanced over her shoulder at one point, catching Paige’s gaze, and the corners of her lips twitched up in a soft smile. “You’re staring,” Azzi teased, her voice light and playful.

Paige blinked, snapping out of her thoughts, and felt her cheeks heat up. “Sorry,” she said quickly, laughing a little. “Just… thinking about how good this smells.”

Azzi chuckled, turning her attention back to the pan. “Well, I’m glad you’re excited. You’d better be hungry.” She finished cooking and plated the food, handing Paige a plate with eggs, bacon, and toast. She followed suit with her own plate, and they both sat down at the small table. The room was quiet except for the clinking of forks on plates and the soft sound of their breathing as they dug into the food.

The moment felt peaceful, like the world outside had faded away, leaving only the two of them in this quiet, cozy bubble. Paige had been so used to rushing through everything, but this? This felt different. She didn’t have to worry about anything—there was no pressure, no expectations. It was just her and Azzi, sharing breakfast together.

“So,” Azzi began, breaking the comfortable silence. “What’s your idea of a perfect day?”

Paige paused, her fork halfway to her mouth, thinking. It was such a simple question, but it felt important, like one of those questions that would help her get to know Azzi a little more. “Hmmmmm” she said, chewing thoughtfully. “Honestly, I think it’s a day like today. Something chill. Maybe a lazy morning, some time to just… be. Then maybe going out for a quick shootaround or to the park, just getting out and not worrying about anything. You know?”

Azzi nodded thoughtfully, her eyes soft. “That sounds nice. I get what you mean about the no-worries thing. I like days when everything feels simple and easy. The days when I don’t feel like I have to be somewhere or do something specific. Just being present.”

Paige smiled, feeling a little more connected with Azzi in that moment. “Yeah, exactly. And for me, that kind of day always has some sort of comfort food. You know, like this breakfast. It just makes everything feel better.”

Azzi laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. “Well, good thing you came over then. I’m a pro at making comfort food.”

Paige smiled back, her heart warming a little. “You definitely know your way around a stove.”

They ate in companionable silence for a moment before Azzi glanced up, a playful glint in her eyes. “Alright. What’s your biggest fear?”

Paige blinked, a little taken aback by the question. She had expected something lighter, maybe more about her favorite song or something simple, but this? This was deeper, realer. It made her heart beat just a little faster. She set her fork down, thinking carefully before responding.

“I guess my biggest fear is… not being good enough. Like, I’ve always had high expectations for myself, you know? Whether it’s basketball or school or whatever, I always feel like I have to be the best. And sometimes, I’m scared that if I don’t live up to those expectations, I’ll disappoint people. Or worse, disappoint myself.”

Azzi’s expression softened, and she reached across the table, resting her hand gently on Paige’s. “Paige,” she said quietly, “you’re already amazing. You don’t have to be perfect. Just being you is more than enough.”

Paige felt her chest tighten slightly, her heart fluttering with the sincerity in Azzi’s voice. She squeezed Azzi’s hand gently before pulling away, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Thanks, Azzi. That… means a lot.”

Azzi gave her a small, encouraging smile. “Of course. We all have our fears, but they don’t define us. You’ve got so much going for you already.”

Paige’s eyes softened, grateful for Azzi’s kindness. “What about you? What’s your biggest fear?”

Azzi paused, her eyes dropping to her plate for a moment as if contemplating how much she should share. Finally, she looked back up at Paige, her gaze vulnerable but honest. “I guess I’m scared of not being able to live up to my potential. Like, I have all these things I want to do in life, but what if I never get there? What if I let my own doubts and fears hold me back? I just don’t want to look back one day and regret not trying harder.”

Paige could hear the weight of Azzi’s words, the raw honesty behind them. She didn’t respond immediately, instead letting the silence stretch between them as she thought about how she could help lighten that burden. She reached out and gently touched Azzi’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re going to do amazing things, Azzi. I can tell. You’ve got so much heart and strength. Don’t let anything stop you.”

Azzi smiled at her, her eyes shining with warmth. “Thanks, Paige. That means a lot.”

They sat there for a moment, just smiling at each other, before Azzi broke the silence again with another question. “What annoys you the most?”

Paige thought for a second, tapping her chin as if considering the answer. “I can’t stand when people don’t take responsibility for their actions. Like, when they act like nothing’s their fault and they just blame everyone else. It drives me crazy.”

Azzi laughed softly. “I get that. I can’t stand when people are dishonest or fake. I like it when people are real with me, even if it’s uncomfortable. I’d rather someone tell me the truth than beat around the bush.”

Paige nodded, feeling a sense of alignment in their answers. “That’s fair. I respect that a lot.”

Azzi’s eyes sparkled again, and she leaned forward, a bit of mischief in her gaze. “Alright, one more question. Fun fact about you. Go.”

Paige grinned, feeling a little mischievous herself. “Alright, alright. Fun fact about me? Hmmmm. I once tried to bake cookies and forgot to add sugar. They were awful, but I ate them anyway, like some kind of sad cookie monster. No regrets.”

Azzi’s eyes widened, and she burst into laughter. “Oh my god, that’s amazing ! You didn’t even notice?”

Paige laughed too, shaking her head. “Nope! I was so focused on the process, I totally forgot the sugar. But I still ate them because, well, they were cookies.”

Azzi laughed again, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re something else, Paige. I can’t believe you did that.”

Paige grinned back, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time. “What about you? Fun fact?”

Azzi paused, her eyes glinting with thought before she shrugged playfully. “I once tried to teach myself how to juggle… ended up hitting myself in the face with one of the balls. That was the end of that dream.”

Paige laughed, a bright, genuine laugh that made her feel more connected to Azzi than ever before. “Oh my goodness, that’s hilarious. You’re lucky you didn’t break your nose.”

Azzi gave her a playful look. “Well, I didn’t, but it was close. So now I stick to safer hobbies.”

The two of them sat there, laughing together, sharing more of those little moments that made life feel brighter. There was a comfortable rhythm between them now—easy, genuine, and fun. Paige didn’t know what would happen next, but in this moment, with Azzi, she felt like everything was exactly where it needed to be.

—---------------------------------

The moment they finished their breakfast, Paige stood up from the table, looking around the small kitchen. She felt the urge to clean up, the familiar instinct kicking in to help, but as she reached for the plates, Azzi’s voice stopped her.

“No, no, I’ve got this,” Azzi said, waving her hand in a dismissive yet playful gesture. “You relax. Let me handle it.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, the familiar pull to help still tugging at her. “You sure?” she asked, glancing between the dishes and Azzi, who was already walking toward the sink.

Azzi flashed her a smile, her eyes lighting up. “I’m sure. You can just… chill out for a minute, yea ?”

Paige hesitated for a moment longer but then gave in, her shoulders relaxing as she sat back down at the table. The sound of Azzi humming softly as she washed the dishes filled the space between them, creating a sense of domestic comfort that Paige wasn’t used to.

Still, a part of Paige felt like she should help, so when Azzi turned her back, Paige stood up again, walking toward the sink with the intent of grabbing the drying towel.

“I’m serious,” Azzi said, catching her before Paige could reach for the towel. “Go sit down. I’m the one who cooked, remember?”

Paige smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, but I’m not about to leave you doing all the work. It’s not fair.”

Azzi sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Fine,” she said with a grin, “but you’re not allowed to lift a finger after this, got it?”

Paige laughed, feeling a lightness in her chest that she hadn’t realized she’d been missing. “Deal.”

Azzi finished up the dishes, and when the last plate was rinsed, she turned to Paige, wiping her hands on a towel. “Alright, now that we’ve got that sorted, what do you wanna do?”

Paige paused for a moment, glancing out the window where the day was slowly starting to brighten. “I dunno,” she said, her voice light. “What do you usually do when you have a day off?”

Azzi grinned, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Well, one of my favorite things to do is watch movies. I’ve got a soft spot for Frozen,” she added with a playful shrug, as if it was some deep, personal confession.

Paige blinked, then laughed, the sound of it filling the room. “Frozen? Seriously?”

Azzi chuckled, a little embarrassed. “Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve watched it. It’s a classic, and I think it’s one of those movies that just makes me feel… happy, you know?”

Paige grinned. “I mean I’ve already watched it but you’re gonna make me watch it again, huh?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow and gave a slight nod. “Yes. You won’t regret it, I swear.”

Paige let out a mock groan, but the playful smile on her face betrayed any hint of actual reluctance. “Okay, fine. Let’s do it. I’m sure it’s gonna be a magical time.” Her voice was teasing as she mimicked a dramatic, over-the-top tone.

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible,” she teased, before grabbing the remote from the couch and heading toward the TV. Paige followed her, taking a seat on the couch with a dramatic flop as she leaned back against the cushions.

Azzi sat beside her, and for a moment, there was just the soft clicking of the remote and the rustle of blankets as Azzi settled in. Then, with surprising confidence, Azzi lifted Paige’s arm, carefully draping it over her own shoulders, before resting her head gently on Paige’s shoulder.

Paige stiffened for a moment, feeling a little caught off guard by the closeness. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected Azzi to be so comfortable in such an intimate space. But when Azzi relaxed against her, breathing softly, Paige felt a warmth spread through her chest. She shifted a little, trying to adjust to the situation, but it felt right.

Azzi, seeming completely at ease, moved her arm around Paige’s waist, draping it gently across her stomach. The proximity felt natural, almost like they had done this a hundred times before. Paige’s heart began to race, but she tried to keep her cool, focusing instead on the screen in front of them.

The opening credits of Frozen rolled, but Paige found it hard to focus on the movie with Azzi so close. Her breath caught in her throat each time Azzi shifted, each time the warmth of Azzi’s body pressed a little closer against hers. She could feel the steady rise and fall of Azzi’s chest, the gentle weight of her head on her shoulder, and her hand across her stomach, grounding her in a way she hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t just a casual touch, it felt like Azzi was seeking comfort in her, and Paige wasn’t sure she could breathe.

A part of her wanted to lean in, to let the closeness envelope her entirely, but another part of her was terrified of ruining the moment. So, instead, she just sat there, trying to breathe steadily, trying to pretend that everything was normal, even though her heart was thudding louder than she cared to admit.

Azzi let out a soft sigh, snuggling closer, and Paige felt her own heartbeat echoing in her ears.

It felt so easy, so natural to have Azzi next to her like this. They didn’t need to say anything, didn’t need to force anything. The silence between them was comfortable, warm. The movie played on, but Paige found herself lost in the quiet rhythm of their shared space.

—---------------------------------

As the movie played on, the room grew quieter, the only sounds coming from the soft hum of the TV and the occasional rustle of the blankets as Azzi shifted slightly. Paige’s focus kept drifting between the movie and the feeling of Azzi so close to her, the warmth of her body pressing against her side, the gentle rhythm of Azzi’s breathing as she relaxed. Paige’s heart fluttered in her chest every time Azzi moved, but she did her best to keep it under control, pretending as if everything was completely normal even though it felt anything but.

Halfway through the movie, a sudden knock at the door shattered the quiet. Azzi lifted her head from Paige’s shoulder, making Paige’s heart drop for just a moment. She had grown so used to the weight of Azzi’s head against her that the absence of it left a strange emptiness. Azzi got up from the couch, stretching her arms above her head, and Paige couldn’t help but follow the movement, her eyes tracing the curve of Azzi’s body as she crossed the room.

“Hold on, let me get that,” Azzi called back to Paige with a smile.

Paige nodded, a little disappointed that the moment was interrupted, but she quickly turned her attention back to the TV, pretending to be engrossed in the movie. She heard Azzi open the door and the sound of two voices—familiar voices reaching her ears.

“Ugh, it’s too early for this,” Caroline’s voice groaned, and Paige immediately recognized the tired tone.

“Right?” Aubrey added, sounding just as rough. “I feel like I’m gonna die.”

Azzi chuckled softly as she stepped back, allowing Caroline and Aubrey to enter. “How’s the hangover?” Azzi asked, her voice lighthearted.

“Terrible,” Caroline muttered, dragging herself in with a hand on her forehead. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all morning. Texting, calling, no response. Thought you might’ve disappeared or something.”

Aubrey trailed in behind Caroline, holding her head with one hand. “Yeah, we were starting to get worried. Especially since Paige has been ignoring my messages, too.”

Azzi blinked in surprise. “Paige? She’s here.”

“Wait, seriously?” Caroline’s eyebrows shot up, her voice filled with disbelief.

Aubrey, still a little blurry from her hangover, took in the surroundings. “Looks like you two are cozy,” she teased, her eyes narrowing playfully. Caroline followed her gaze, and both girls gave each other knowing glances before heading toward the couch.

“Hi, Paige,” Caroline said with a teasing smile as she sat down next to her. Aubrey dropped onto the couch beside her, still holding her head, but both girls seemed to be finding comfort in the familiar environment despite their rough condition.

Paige smiled faintly, though she was a little unsure how to act with them suddenly here. She glanced at Azzi, who was standing near the door. “How’s your hangover?” she asked them, trying to keep her voice casual.

Caroline grimaced, leaning back against the couch. “Like I got hit by a truck, but I’ll survive.”

“Same,” Aubrey added with a small groan, adjusting her position on the couch. “Just make it stop spinning for a bit.”

Azzi, still standing near the door, took in the scene. Without saying anything, she walked over to the counter, grabbing two bottles of water. She handed them to Aubrey and Caroline with a quiet but thoughtful smile.

“There you go. Drink up,” Azzi said softly, before turning to Caroline. “You’re gonna have to move over.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow. “What, am I in the way?” she asked playfully.

Azzi didn’t respond but just gave a small grin and nudged Caroline’s leg with her knee, the subtle action leaving no room for argument. Caroline, though still teasing, scooted over without hesitation. Paige, who had been watching the exchange, felt her face flush at the motion. Her breath hitched in her throat when Azzi settled next to her, and for a moment, she froze.

Azzi settled in so naturally, so effortlessly. Paige couldn’t help but notice how their shoulders brushed as Azzi made herself comfortable. Her heart fluttered, and she didn’t know how to act. A part of her wanted to pull away, unsure of what to do with the proximity, but another part wanted to stay there, to be close to Azzi.

Paige, trying to play it cool, pretended to stretch. She raised her arm above her head in a dramatic yawn, stretching her back to relieve some of the tension that had built up in her chest. But as her arm lowered, she carefully placed it around Azzi’s shoulder, pulling her just a little closer.

Azzi’s breath hitched for a brief second, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she relaxed into the touch, leaning into Paige’s side, the soft hum of the movie still playing in the background.

Caroline and Aubrey exchanged a glance from the corner of their eyes, but neither of them said anything, though they both noticed. They just continued sipping their water, trying to act like they hadn’t seen the subtle shift in the air. But it was clear they both knew something was happening.

“I’m gonna take a nap,” Aubrey said, putting her head back and closing her eyes. “Wake me up when you two are ready to, I don’t know, finally admit whatever’s going on here.” Her voice was teasing but filled with a quiet amusement.

Caroline snorted, but her gaze lingered on the two of them. “Right? It’s so obvious.”

Paige stiffened slightly but quickly masked it with a chuckle. “You guys are insane,” she muttered, trying to hide the warmth that crept up her neck. Azzi’s hand had shifted slightly, resting lightly on her leg, and she could feel the warmth of it, the subtle pressure that sent a little shock of electricity through her.

Azzi smiled softly, her head resting more comfortably against Paige’s shoulder once again. “Yeah, yeah, keep teasing,” Azzi said in a low voice, though there was no trace of irritation. “I’m sure you both have some brilliant theories.”

“Maybe we do,” Caroline said, her tone light but knowing.

“I’m just here for the drama,” Aubrey chimed in, already halfway asleep.

The silence that followed felt different this time. It wasn’t awkward, but comfortable almost like the space between them had shifted, like a new understanding was forming. And for the first time in a long while, Paige felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be, the warmth of Azzi beside her grounding her in a way she didn’t know she needed.

Azzi’s head nestled against her shoulder again, her hand resting lightly on Paige’s, and Paige, with a soft sigh, gave in. She closed her eyes, not caring that her heart was racing, not caring about anything except the quiet warmth of Azzi’s presence beside her.

—---------------------------------

The room was still and quiet .The movie had long ended, and now the only sound was the occasional shift of bodies and the soft rhythm of breathing. Everyone had somehow ended up asleep on the couch, scattered in an uncoordinated mess of limbs and blankets, their exhaustion from the previous night’s shenanigans finally catching up with them.

Caroline, still struggling with the remnants of her hangover, had drifted off with her head resting awkwardly against the armrest. Aubrey, still a bit fuzzy and feeling the slow throbbing in her skull, had ended up half-lying across Caroline, one of her arms flung over her friend’s chest. Azzi, nestled next to Paige, was curled up against her side, her head resting comfortably on Paige’s shoulder. Paige, in turn, had one arm draped around Azzi, pulling her closer as they both slept deeply, their bodies pressed together in a way that would have been too intimate if they were awake but felt completely natural now.

And then, as if on cue, Aubrey’s unconscious movements decided to make their mark. With a sudden shift in her sleep, she rolled over, her hand coming down sharply to smack Caroline right in the face.

“OWW! What the fuck, Aubrey?” Caroline’s voice was a mix of sleepiness and annoyance, her hand instinctively swatting back.

“Fuck! What the hell?” Aubrey shot up, rubbing her forehead as she blinked rapidly, groaning at the remnants of her hangover. Her hand had hit Caroline square in the face, and now both of them were wide awake, squinting at each other in the dimmed room.

Caroline, still groggy, rubbed her face dramatically, glancing over at Aubrey with narrowed eyes. “You just fucking slapped me in the face! What’s wrong with you?”

Aubrey looked down at her own hand and then at Caroline’s irritated expression, and she could only laugh, albeit weakly, considering the pounding headache that was still blaring in her skull. “I swear to God, you make me sound like a damn trainwreck.”

Caroline flicked her finger at Aubrey’s forehead, not at all sorry for the slap she’d returned. “You are a damn trainwreck.”

Aubrey was about to snap back with something witty when she froze. Her eyes narrowed as she turned her head to look over at Paige and Azzi, who were still sleeping soundly on the other side of the couch. The sight made her pause for a moment. “Uh… Caroline,” she said in a low voice, her tone suddenly taking on a mischievous quality. “Look at this.”

Caroline, who was still rubbing her face, followed Aubrey’s gaze, and then her eyes widened. “Wait… What the fuck?”

On the side of the couch, Paige and Azzi were sleeping in a full embrace. Paige’s arm was wrapped securely around Azzi, pulling her closer as Azzi’s hand was draped across Paige’s stomach, both of them pressed together in an almost impossibly intimate position. Azzi’s head was nestled gently into Paige’s neck, her breath soft against the skin there, while Paige’s head rested atop Azzi’s, her body fully entwined with hers. It was a scene that, had anyone else walked in, would have made them question everything they thought they knew about the two.

Aubrey snickered, leaning back slightly against the couch, clearly entertained. “Well, well, well… look who’s cozy,” she whispered, trying not to laugh too loudly and disturb the scene in front of her.

Caroline, still a little hungover, squinted at the pair and then at Aubrey. “Oh my. This is too perfect. We gotta get a picture of this.”

“Absolutely,” Aubrey agreed, a grin slowly spreading across her face. “I mean, how can we not? This is the best content we’ve had all week.”

As they both reached for their phones, Caroline whispered, “Wait, hold on. We don’t want to scare them.” But just as Aubrey was about to snap the picture, Azzi shifted slightly, her face scrunching up in her sleep, and she burrowed even deeper into Paige’s side.

Aubrey froze, phone in hand, and Caroline stopped moving altogether. “Shit… What if she wakes up?” Caroline whispered, her eyes wide.

But Azzi didn’t wake up. She just snuggled even closer to Paige, one of her legs slipping between Paige’s, and her head shifting to nestle more comfortably against her neck. Paige, completely unaware, just mumbled something inaudible in her sleep but remained blissfully unaware of the teasing spectacle unfolding around her.

“Alright, fuck it,” Aubrey muttered. “We’re getting this picture.”

Caroline snuck her phone out and angled it carefully, making sure the moment was captured before either of them had a chance to ruin it. The flash went off, and the pair held their breath, waiting to see if Azzi or Paige would stir, but neither of them moved.

“Perfect,” Caroline said, trying to stifle a giggle. “This is going straight into our team group chat so we can annoy Paige. Maybe even Insta, if I’m feeling brave.”

Aubrey rolled her eyes, still holding her phone. “You’re evil.”

Caroline smiled, clearly pleased with herself. “Evil, but it’s for the greater good.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna have to get them back for this,” Aubrey said, sitting back and rubbing her eyes, groaning softly. “But right now, all I want is food.”

“Oh my God, same,” Caroline agreed, trying to sit up but grimacing as her headache throbbed. “I’m so fucking hungry, I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

Aubrey gave her a sympathetic glance. “Yeah, me too. Let’s order something. We’ll wake them up when the food gets here. Let them sleep off whatever weirdness is going on between them.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with sarcasm. “You really think they’ll sleep through the food delivery? They’re both huge eaters. There’s no way.”

Aubrey smirked. “We’ll see.”

Caroline and Aubrey quietly began scrolling through their phones to order takeout, carefully choosing a spread of greasy comfort food that would hopefully ease their symptoms. Pizza, chips, burgers—anything that could be delivered fast and wasn’t too complicated. When the order was placed, Aubrey put her phone down with a sigh, rubbing her temples.

“We’ll give them a little more time,” she said with a smirk. “Then we’ll wake them up. This is going to be funny.”

Caroline nodded, resting back against the couch, and they both shared a knowing look. They knew exactly what they were doing and that when Paige and Azzi woke up, they’d be in for a very different kind of surprise.

But for now, they both relaxed, watching the quiet, peaceful scene before them, amused at the way their friends were tangled together. It felt like the calm before the storm. And when the food arrived, it would be the perfect time to let the chaos—and the teasing—begin.

—---------------------------------

The soft, lazy silence stretched on for a while longer, broken only by the occasional grumble of a stomach or the faint buzz of Caroline’s phone vibrating on the coffee table with updates about their food order. Finally, after what felt like forever, a sharp knock at the door echoed through the room, followed by the familiar ding-dong of the delivery guy mashing the doorbell.

Aubrey groaned dramatically and pushed herself off the couch, grabbing her wallet from the table. “That better be our fucking salvation,” she muttered, shuffling toward the door like a zombie.

Caroline cracked an eye open and mumbled, “If it’s not, I’m throwing hands bru.”

Aubrey came back a minute later, balancing 2 huge bags of greasy goodness in her arms. The smell alone was enough to make Caroline sit up straight, her headache momentarily forgotten.

“Operation wake the dumbasses begins now,” Aubrey said, grinning wickedly.

Caroline laughed under her breath. “Poor things don’t even know what’s about to hit them.”

Aubrey set the food down carefully on the low table, then turned to survey the couch, hands on her hips like a general planning an attack.

Paige and Azzi were still a tangled mess of limbs, dead to the world.

“Alright,” Aubrey said, rubbing her hands together. “Time for some fun.”

Caroline tiptoed closer, crouching by Azzi’s side. She reached out and poked her cheek lightly.

“Azzi…” Caroline whispered, then poked harder. “Wake up, dude.”

Azzi groaned softly, her face scrunching up, but she didn’t move much beyond burrowing even closer into Paige’s side. Paige, still deep asleep, just mumbled something incomprehensible and tightened her arm around Azzi.

Aubrey, meanwhile, was bouncing on her heels in excitement. “Ok, fuck this,” she whispered to Caroline, grinning like a devil. “Watch this.”

Without any more warning, Aubrey leaned down, cupped her hands around her mouth, and screamed directly into Paige’s ear.

“PAIGE, THERE’S A FIRE !!!”

The reaction was immediate and chaotic.

Paige jolted awake so violently that she flinched and practically yeeted Azzi off the couch. Azzi yelped as she tumbled onto the floor with a dull thud, groaning as she blinked in confusion.

“SHIT—Azzi! Fuck!” Paige cried out, scrambling to sit up, her heart pounding out of her chest. “I’m so sorry, are you okay ?”

Azzi, still laying on the carpet, blinked up at her with the most disoriented, betrayed look. “What the hell just happened?”

Caroline was laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach, almost falling over herself. Aubrey had collapsed onto the couch, tears of laughter coming down her face.

Paige leaned over the side of the couch, offering Azzi her hand sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to. Aubrey screamed and—and I panicked”

Azzi took Paige’s hand and let her pull her up with a dramatic, suffering sigh. “You flinched so hard, I thought there was actually a fire.”

Paige gave her a guilty half-smile, scratching the back of her neck. “Sorry. Reflexes. You know… athlete shit,” she said weakly, trying to play it off.

Azzi snorted and shook her head, amused despite herself. “You owe me like 10 ice cream tubs for that.”

Paige grinned, relieved. “Deal.”

Once Azzi was safely back on her feet and dusted off, she rubbed her eyes and glanced around the room, her voice scratchy from sleep. “Wait… what time is it?”

Caroline and Aubrey exchanged mischievous glances but said nothing.

Azzi stumbled over to the table and checked Caroline’s phone, her eyes widening comically. “IT’S 5:30pm ?!?!”

Paige, still half-asleep, muttered, “In the evening?”

“YES, in the evening!” Azzi exclaimed, running a hand through her messy curls. “We slept the whole fucking day away!”

Aubrey shrugged, clearly unbothered.

“I feel like a new person.” Caroline said, grabbing a slice of pizza and sinking back into the couch.

“After you slapped me in the face, maybe,” Aubrey muttered.

Everyone settled around the low table, grabbing food greedily. Paige sat next to Azzi again, this time a little more cautious about where her limbs were. Azzi plopped down beside her, stealing a handful of chips off Paige’s plate without even asking.

They were halfway through demolishing the food when everyone’s phones buzzed simultaneously.

Paige glanced at hers, mouth full of pizza. A notification from the university:

“Reminder: Upcoming Assessment Next Friday. Attendance Mandatory.”

A collective groan rippled through the room.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Aubrey moaned, dropping her burger onto her plate. “Next Friday? I’m not mentally prepared for this shit.”

Caroline scowled at her screen. “I’m still not mentally prepared for today.”

Paige was about to complain too when she noticed a second email notification—this one addressed just to her, from the professor.

Azzi, curious, leaned over closer, casually resting her chin on Paige’s shoulder to read along with her. Paige stiffened for a split second at the warm weight of Azzi against her, but managed to stay cool.

The email read:

Subject: Academic Eligibility Reminder

Good evening Paige,

Just a reminder that the upcoming exam is crucial for maintaining your eligibility for the season. Please reach out if you need any additional support or resources. You’re capable of this—stay focused.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her chin still on Paige’s shoulder, and murmured, “Looks like someone’s under pressure.”

Paige gave a small, tired smile. “Yea. No big deal or anything,” she muttered, trying to sound casual but clearly a little stressed.

Azzi nudged her gently with her forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you. We’ll set up extra sessions this week. You’re not failing on my watch.”

Paige turned her head slightly to meet Azzi’s gaze, their faces much closer than either of them seemed to realize. “Thanks, Az,” she said, voice softer now, genuinely grateful.

Azzi smiled and bumped their shoulders together. “Anytime.”

Aubrey, oblivious to the moment, stuffed another handful of chips into her mouth and mumbled, “You two are disgustingly cute sometimes.”

Caroline raised her soft drink can. “Agreed. To disgustingly cute friendships—and surviving next Friday.”

They all clinked their drinks together with exaggerated solemnity.

Azzi perked up suddenly, her eyes lighting up with mischief.

“So…” she said, sitting up a little straighter, “cards after this?”

That earned her a mix of groans and laughter.

“God help us,” Aubrey said, dramatically collapsing onto the floor like she’d already lost.

Paige smirked, eyes locked on Azzi. “Hope you’re ready to lose.”

Azzi just raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Hope you’re ready to cry.”

—---------------------------------

The aftermath of the massive feed and drinks left the 4 of them in that perfect mix of content and just bored enough to do something mildly chaotic. Plates pushed aside, cans half-empty, the table was cleared in record time. Azzi pulled out a battered deck of cards from the little drawer by her bed like she’d been waiting for this exact moment her whole life.

“Ight gang,” she said, cracking her knuckles dramatically. “Let’s play.”

“What game?” Caroline asked, stretching out her legs and stealing the last chip off Aubrey’s plate.

“Speed,” Azzi replied, already shuffling the cards with practiced ease. “Two people at a time. We will swap around.”

Aubrey groaned. “Oh god, not speed. That game turns people into animals.”

“Exactly,” Paige said, already rolling up her sleeves. “Let’s go.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow at her, grinning. “You sure you’re ready to get demolished?”

“Oh, I’m ready,” Paige said, sitting cross-legged across from her on the floor, cracking her neck like she was about to step into the ring. “You’re the one who should be scared.”

“Cute talk,” Azzi replied, handing her half the deck. “Let’s see if your hands are as fast as your mouth.”

Aubrey choked on her drink. “Pause.”

Caroline laughed, flopping onto her stomach with a pillow under her chin. “This is gonna be good.”

Cards were dealt with lightning speed, the centre stacks slapped down, and then chaos.

Azzi and Paige’s hands flew, slapping cards like their lives depended on it. Paige’s fingers were a blur, her focus laser-sharp, tongue peeking out between her teeth. Azzi tried to keep up, but her eyes kept drifting just for a split second to Paige’s fingers. Long, quick, stupidly agile fingers flying across the cards like it was nothing.

Which, ok, was fine. Except she found herself getting distracted. Again.

“Fuck !” Azzi hissed as Paige laid down a 7 right before her.

“That’s two in a row,” Paige said smugly.

“I hate your hands,” Azzi blurted without thinking.

Everyone paused.

Paige blinked. “…You what?”

Azzi froze. “I meant-I hate that your hands are fast. For the game. Shut up.”

Aubrey wheezed from the couch. “OOOOOOOO slip-up alert !!”

Paige, cheeks pink, grinned anyway. “It’s ok. Lots of people love my hands.”

Azzi made a strangled noise and threw a card at her face. “Play again, idiot.”

They reset the game, both of them trying very hard not to look directly at each other. Or smile. Or explode.

The 2nd round was even more ridiculous. Paige kept talking shit, and Azzi kept getting flustered.

“Queen,” Paige muttered, slapping it down.

“Frick.”

“King.”

“Fuck.”

“Do you always curse this much when you lose?” Paige asked sweetly.

“I will throw this entire deck at your head.”

“Try me.”

It ended in another Paige win and an extremely dramatic Azzi fake-dying on the carpet.

Aubrey was already halfway off the couch. “Tag me in. I’m gonna smoke Caroline.”

“Please,” Caroline said, getting up with an eye roll. “You’ve got the hand-eye coordination of a toaster.”

“Oh, that’s fucked up,” Aubrey muttered, reshuffling the cards. “We’ll see who’s toast.”

Caroline snorted. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Azzi, now flopped sideways, curled up next to Paige on the floor, her head naturally resting against Paige’s shoulder as they watched the next match. Paige glanced down at her but said nothing, just let herself lean slightly into the contact.

“Should’ve kept you in longer,” Azzi murmured, voice quieter now, a little rougher.

“Couldn’t help it, you kept staring at my hands,” Paige said, smirking.

Azzi groaned into her hoodie. “Why do you talk.”

“Because I’m charming.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You like it.”

Azzi mumbled something into Paige’s shoulder that sounded suspiciously like shut up, but she didn’t move away.

Across from them, Caroline and Aubrey’s game had devolved into actual war. Aubrey slapped a card down so hard the entire stack slid halfway across the carpet.

“WHAT NOW?” she screamed.

“You played a king on a nine, dumbass,” Caroline said dryly.

“Fuck.”

They reset. Again.

“Fucking hate this game bro,” Aubrey muttered.

“Say it louder,” Caroline said, gleeful as she smacked down 3 cards in a row. “Maybe the cards will fear you into playing themselves.”

Aubrey flipped her off.

Paige whispered, “My money’s on Caroline.”

Azzi hummed. “Same. Aubrey’s trying, though.”

“Like you tried?”

“Do you want to die?”

“I mean, if it’s by card game, at least I’d go out on top.”

Azzi just groaned again and shoved lightly at her side, but didn’t budge her head from Paige’s shoulder.

—---------------------------------

The latest round between Aubrey and Caroline had devolved into the most chaotic yet. Cards were flying, insults were flying faster, and Aubrey had somehow managed to wedge one under the couch trying to “strategically slam” a queen.

Azzi’s head still rested against Paige’s shoulder, her body tucked slightly into her side like it was just the most natural place to be. Paige didn’t mind. Not even a little. She didn’t say anything about it either, afraid that if she acknowledged the closeness, it might disappear.

They were both mid-laugh, Aubrey had just dramatically thrown her entire body across the floor in defeat when suddenly Azzi’s phone buzzed from beside her thigh.

She shifted slightly, lifting her head from Paige’s shoulder to check it, the absence of her weight immediate.

Paige noticed. Her arm twitched, like it wanted to reach back out for her.

Azzi frowned at her screen, thumb hovering but not typing. Her expression scrunched up in that half-apologetic, half-uncomfortable way she got when something mildly annoying had just landed in her lap.

Paige leaned in. “What’s wrong?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. Paige took the cue and inched closer until her chin rested lightly on Azzi’s shoulder, peeking over to look at her phone. Her voice was low, softer. “Who is it?”

Azzi didn’t hesitate, she tilted her phone slightly toward Paige so she could read the screen.

It was Jace.

Jace: yo azziiiiiii u see the exam alert thingy ay ??

Jace: u got time to run it back ?

Jace: maybe tomorrow? or like now lol even tho its kinda late

Paige didn’t move her chin from her shoulder. “He’s the worst.”

Another ding.

Jace: cmon dont leave me hangin az

Jace: ur the smart one

Jace: u know i suck at this

Jace: n also I wouldn’t mind seeing u again 😏

Azzi groaned, more out of secondhand embarrassment than anything. “Why does he talk like that.”

Paige didn’t answer, because another message came in.

Jace: or we could skip studying 👀 jk jk unless…

Paige’s jaw tensed. Her hand, which had been resting casually on her own knee, slid around Azzi’s waist without really thinking, settling there with easy confidence. “Give me your phone.”

Azzi blinked at her, but didn’t resist. She passed it over, letting Paige take it with one hand while the other stayed wrapped around Azzi’s side.

Paige started typing immediately with the ruthless efficiency of someone responding to a telemarketer.

Azzi: im busy this week.

Azzi: and next week.

Azzi: and probably the rest of the semester.

Azzi: find someone else.

Jace started spamming.

Jace: whoa chill 💀

Jace: im just askin

Jace: why u so cold now 😭

Jace: u were mad cool b4

Jace: damn girl u got sum1 new or sum ???

Jace: 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Azzi leaned her head against Paige’s, her temple touching Paige’s crown. “You’re really gonna ghost him for me?”

Paige, deadpan, replied, “This isn’t ghosting. This is pest control.”

Azzi snorted, low and warm. “He’s just… persistent.”

Another message came in.

Jace: yo fr tho

Jace: i miss ur lil study face

Jace: ur so cute when u r explaining stuff

Jace: I was barely listenin fr but it was fun 🙂‍↕️

Paige made a face so disgusted, Azzi choked on a laugh. “Did he just admit to not listening and still want more help?”

Paige’s thumb hovered for half a second, then she typed again without hesitation.

Azzi: u didnt listen the first time, and u r not getting another. stop texting me.

Paige hit send and muttered under her breath, “Absolute dumbass.”

Jace’s reply came almost instantly, like he’d been hovering over his screen like a gremlin.

Jace: damnnnn chill 😅

Jace: u dont gotta be mean

Jace: i just thought we had a vibe fr

Jace: u were all smiley n shit

Jace: was thinkin maybe next time I could bring snacks 👀

Jace: or we could like chill after, u kno

Jace: just me n u

Jace: i will behave… unless u dont want me to 😂

Paige physically recoiled, eyes squinting at the screen like it had personally offended her. “Ok. That’s enough.”

Azzi looked over, eyebrows raised. “What did he say now-”

Paige just turned the screen toward her. Azzi scanned the message and visibly cringed.

“No,” she muttered. “Absolutely not. Why is he like this.”

Paige didn’t answer. She was already in motion, thumb moving quickly, calmly, mercilessly.

Contact - Info - Block Caller - Confirm.

The press of the confirmation felt like the digital equivalent of slamming a door in someone’s face.

“There,” Paige said, placing the phone back in Azzi’s lap like she’d just finished taking out the trash. “Congratulations. You’re officially Jace-free.”

Azzi blinked at her. “You didn’t even ask.”

“I didn’t need to. That man was two texts away from calling you ‘mami’ unironically.”

Azzi groaned and dropped her head into Paige’s shoulder again, laughing into her sleeve. “I think he was trying to flirt.”

“Flirting implies charm,” Paige muttered. “That was a verbal health code violation.”

Across the room, Aubrey was dramatically brushing herself off like she’d just survived a battle. “Alright. I’m calling it,” she declared, flopping onto the couch beside Caroline with an exaggerated grunt. “My ego can’t take another loss.”

Caroline yawned, stretching with a squeak. “It is late. We’ve got math first thing tomorrow anyway.”

Azzi lifted her head from Paige’s shoulder, eyes flicking toward the clock. “Shit. You’re right.”

There was a flurry of card gathering, hoodie grabbing, and general post-chaos tidying. Aubrey was still complaining under her breath about how Caroline “definitely cheated at least twice” while Caroline tossed a pillow at her in retaliation.

“Alright, Az,” Aubrey said as she pulled on her jacket, “thanks for the last minute hosting. And for letting me dramatically lose on your floor.”

Caroline gave Azzi a warm side hug. “Don’t let Paige stress you out. She does that.”

“I do not,” Paige said automatically, hands stuffed in the pockets of her hoodie like a guilty raccoon.

Aubrey and Caroline both turned to her, identical knowing smirks on their faces. Aubrey pointed. “You literally stress out Ice and KK on a weekly basis.”

“They love it,” Paige muttered.

Azzi giggled, eyes flitting toward Paige. “Should I be worried?”

“No,” Paige said too fast, then added, “…You’re good.”

Aubrey bumped Paige’s shoulder as they headed toward the door. “Come on. Time to go.”

Caroline called over her shoulder, “Night, Azzi!”

“See you in math,” Aubrey added.

They both stepped outside, lingering by the door as Paige hung back for a beat.

Azzi stood near the door, one hand on it, the other loosely holding her phone. Paige hesitated for a second, then stepped in.

They didn’t speak right away. The air felt warmer, heavier now. Slower.

Paige rubbed the back of her neck. “So… uh. Good luck staying Jace-free. Even though we have him with us in class tomorrow.”

Azzi giggled. “Thanks to you.”

They were close again, closer than before. Neither moved to open the door just yet.

Paige let out a soft breath and opened her arms in silent question. “Can I…?”

Azzi nodded before she even finished the sentence.

The hug was immediate and easy. Familiar, even though it was new. Azzi folded into her, arms wrapping around Paige’s back while Paige’s slid naturally around her waist again. This time there was no flinching, no nerves, just stillness. Warmth.

Neither let go right away.

Azzi’s cheek was pressed against the top of Paige’s shoulder now, her fingers loosely clutching the fabric of her hoodie. Paige closed her eyes briefly, inhaling slowly, like trying to memorise the moment through touch alone.

“You’re really warm,” Azzi mumbled into her shoulder.

Paige smiled. Her hand gently rubbed Azzi’s back once before settling again.

The hug lingered. And lingered.

Eventually, Azzi pulled back just a little, just enough to look up at her. Their faces were still close. Paige’s hands were still at her waist, like she hadn’t quite registered they were supposed to part.

Azzi bit her lip, her voice quieter now. “See you tomorrow?”

Paige nodded, eyes soft. “Yea. Tomorrow.”

And then, slowly, finally, she stepped back.

Azzi opened the door for her, and Paige paused at the threshold for one more second before flashing a small, tired grin. “Night, Az.”

“Night P.”

Caroline and Aubrey were still standing just outside, arms crossed and mock-impatient.

“Took you long enough,” Caroline muttered as Paige stepped out.

“Shut up,” Paige said under her breath, but she was smiling.

Azzi closed the door slowly behind her, back pressed to it for a second longer than necessary, her smile still lingering like Paige’s arms had never left.

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

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #wnba #wnba basketball #dallas wings #ncaa wbb #wbb

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castorizz · 21 hours ago

Text

... ❝ ACHILLES HEEL. ❞ ft. anaxa x reader

𝒾. ⠀IN WHICH : anaxa reflects upon how you have possibly managed to make him feel so weak.

꒰ contents ꒱ fluff? i guess. gn!reader. pathetically in love anaxa. wc : 1077

꒰ notes ꒱ this was written as a birthday present for the amazing @rainswept!! happy birthday again, ily and thank you for being my friend, & entertaining my insanity <33

Fragility, as it were, was not a foreign concept to Anaxagoras.

That isn’t to say that it was a welcomed feeling; quite the opposite. It had overstayed whatever brief welcome he’d permitted it, lingering in the furthest reaches of his consciousness for far longer than he would care to acknowledge.

He didn’t acknowledge it at all, on his best days. On his best days, he would pay no attention; no mind to the stiffness and aches in his joints, no thought to the strain on his lungs. It was always there, the throbbing and stinging, somewhere on the outskirts of his focus, but never at the forefront of his mind. His day would pass with little fanfare, without the pervasive, permeating pain to distract him from his work.

There were times he couldn’t ignore it though, times that felt like his every step was barefoot over broken glass. The pain would seep into every part of him—from the back of his head, to the very tips of his fingers, lighting up every nerve ending. It was all he could do not to succumb to it, to grit his teeth and bear the agony without letting it cross his face. He couldn’t let it manifest into something physical. However weakened this body was, it was a burden that he was damned to carry on his own ailing shoulders.

Instead, he fell into his research, poring over every book and paper he could find. Each breakthrough and every development was a thrill, a fresh burst of adrenaline. With each new piece of evidence, the feeble, fragile grip he had on himself seemed to grow stronger, another ounce of control that he’d regained. It was almost intoxicating, the feeling of stepping back and seeing all the pieces fall into place.

Weakened, he might be, but make no mistake: Anaxa was never weak. His strengths were only substituted, traded out for something more useful. It was an equivalent exchange; where his physical health declined, his mind would grow; exchanging fragility for fortitude, wellness for intuition.

And yet, despite his loathing of any implication of weakness, that was exactly what you seemed to be doing to him.

How else could he begin to explain the tightness in his chest when he thought about you, the steady ache that a mere mention of your name brought about? The way you smiled, the way you laughed, it made him sick to his stomach, in a sensation he couldn’t describe as pleasant, vexing, or somewhere in between.

If it ended there, he might have even been able to ignore it, but he couldn’t. Not with the way you treated him, the way you sought him out with purpose, like his presence was a treat you were savouring each taste of.

Gentleness, in all its glory, was unfamiliar. A kind hand, a soft touch, Anaxa was unused to it all. That sort of care was reserved for those with people to care for them, loved ones and the like. It had been a long time since he had anyone willing to get so close to him; the last he could recall anything of the sort, it was his sister, wiping his tears with the edge of her shirt. Once he had lost her too, he had no one left, no one who would spare such tenderness for the likes of him.

But you touched him so easily, almost unconsciously, and it would almost undo him every single time. You were always so casual with it: an innocuous bump of your shoulders, or hands brushing against each other as you walked, or your ankle pressing against his underneath the desk. Maybe to some, it would be easily mistaken as an accident, but he doesn’t miss the sharp look in your eyes, the way you glance for a second too long to make sure he notices.

You’re doing it on purpose, and both of you knew it.

Anaxa was… perplexed, to say the least. And with perplexion, came the inevitable frustration that followed. If there was one thing he hated, it was not understanding, and as hard as he tried, he could never understand you, much less why you had such an effect on him.

The what was obvious enough; somehow despite himself, he’d grown some sort of… attachment towards you, but the why was unknown. He never cared for romance, or anything of the sort, until you appeared in his life, and left a bizarre sort of affection in your wake. There was no rhyme or reason to the source of his feelings, and why you had triggered them; you were a mystery, and nothing he did could solve it.

Yet somehow, the unsettlement didn’t stand in the way of a strange, oddly comfortable contentment that you brought into his life. Curiously, it didn’t negate or clash with the turmoil, merely… accompanied it. As if it brought the discordant melody of his thoughts into a sweet, harmonious symphony. He couldn’t place the feeling properly, only grasp at its edges, but trying to rationalize the conflict in his mind was set to drive him mad.

And Anaxa was no gambling man, but he would bet his life you knew.

“What’s with that weird look?” You prod at his arm, your small smile laced with a smirk. “Am I that distracting, huh? Go back to explaining your theory, I’m listening.”

If he was dealt any other set of circumstances, he would have picked up where his thoughts had trailed off in an instant, but you—you and that irritating, endearing look on your face distracted him enough to render him speechless. His mouth was dry, his eyes frozen on your lips. They watched every little movement, the slow, small tick upwards on the corner of your mouth. Amusement. You were enjoying this, weren’t you?

“You’re incomprehensible,” He mutters, half to himself.

“Am I?” You say, a note of challenge in your voice. “Wasn’t it you who said every question had its answer? Are you saying there’s something even you can’t understand?”

His eyes narrow, but he remains silent. You were right, of course. And so was he: every mystery in this world was just a truth he had not yet discovered, yourself included. You’re just another enigma for him to solve.

“Of course not.” He clears his throat. “Let me continue.”

You might weaken him, but Anaxa would be the one to figure you out—no matter how long it took.

©castorizz 2025 : do not copy, translate, repost, redistribute, or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <33

#₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ mari's writing #—stellaronhvnters.#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #anaxa x reader #hsr anaxa x reader #anaxa fluff #anaxagoras x reader

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cherrygirlfriend · 2 days ago

Text

─ SILENT TREATMENT ♥︎

...or the one where rafes explains himself.

♥︎ pairing .ᐟ nerd!rafe x pervert!reader

♥︎ summary .ᐟ rafe reveals why he didn't tell the reader he loves her.

♥︎ warnings .ᐟ angst, fluff, comfort, mentions of death wc: 1.3k

♥︎ author's note .ᐟ *evil laughter*

PERVERT MASTERLIST ♥︎ RAFE MASTERLIST

pissed off. collins dictionary defines 'pissed off' as meaning annoyed, irritated, or disappointed, yet none of those words seemed good enough for what you felt towards rafe. he had humiliated you. you had given him your heart and he had stomped all. over. it. and he had the guts to avoid you? to ignore your calls and reply to your texts with 'sorry busy, speak soon.'? how dare he?

the other day, you had seen him in the hallway and you waved at him, only for the douchebag to pretend he didn't even see you. he's probably laughing at you. laughing because he made you fall in love with him, when in reality, he was probably just playing with you, just like every other guy.

"god, i'm so sick of him!" you groaned, throwing back yet another shot of vodka, "he's infuriating! i could have anyone! anyone."

your best friend brit's idea of 'making you feel better' was to dress you up as slutty as possible and bring you to a party, to ‘get your mind off of things’. but the drunker you got, the more you thought about rafe. his annoying sandy-colored hair that was so soft, his stupid glasses, his infuriatingly beautiful eyes you could get lost in...

"god, i hate him." brit refilled your glass, the two of your clinking the small shot glasses before throwing them back, the alcohol making you turn up your nose.

"girl, you should just find some guy and hook up with him to get revenge!" brit shouted over the music before she started dancing. "you're totally right!" you grinned, "why should i care about him when he doesn't care about me?!"

the last thing you remember was going up to some guy.

your eyes slowly fluttered open, feeling nauseous as soon as your eyes were exposed to a sliver of sunlight through your blinds. you groaned, stretching your arm wide in your bed. until you made contact with bare skin.

you immediately sat up in bed, pulling the blanket up as you looked at the figure next to you. the person was sleeping on his stomach, a pillow covering the back of his head, but you could clearly tell it was a man.

a pit dropped down into your stomach, and you felt bile rising up your throat. it didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened. you'd blacked out and gotten with a guy. you'd cheated on rafe. your eyes started to sting with tears as you scooched up to the edge of the bed, your head in your hands.

quiet sobs escaped your throat as tears trailed down your cheeks. you had no idea how to explain it to rafe. the one guy you had actually cared about, the one guy who had actually wanted you, not because of your body but because of who you were... and you fucked it up. just like you fuck up every good thing in your life. rafe would never forgive you, and you couldn't even blame him.

"hey, what's wrong?" you heard a groggy voice say, making you sob even harder.

"i'm such a shitty person..." you mumble through your throaty sobs as you try to wipe the tears off your face, "i've ruined everything!"

"hey, hey, baby, calm down."

you turned to slap away his hand, "don't call-!"

but when you saw the pair of familiar ice blue eyes looking back at you with nothing but utmost gentleness and adoration, your eyes widened.

"rafe...?" you said his name softly, as if any moment he might disappear and turn into someone else. the boy let out a chuckle, shaking his head, "who else?"

you threw your arms around him and threw yourself at him so harshly that rafe was thrown back down to lie on the bed as you squeezed him, starting to press kisses all over his face as rafe laughed, his arms wrapping around your torso. "is there a reason you're being this affectionate when usually when you're hungover all you want to do is suffocate everyone with a pillow?"

you pulled your face away from rafe but still kept your arms around him as you pursed your lips in thought, considering whether or not it was a good idea to tell him what you thought had happened. clearing your throat, you let go of him and sat up, still keeping his hand in yours as you took a deep breath, "i thought... i thought i did something stupid last night." you admitted, only to be faced with a soft smile from your boyfriend.

"you thought you cheated on me, right?"

"how'd... how'd you know?"

"well," rafe chuckled softly, "some guy called me from your phone. told me you were trashed. said that he'd been hitting on you but you just kept talking about your 'bastard boyfriend who you love more than anything' and he told me i should come pick you up." he snorted, warmth creeping up your cheeks in embarrassment. "the entire walk to your dorm you were confused about who i was. you literally said 'hands off me! i have a boyfriend'."

"oh god. kill me now." you laughed softly, shaking your head, "i'm too embarrassing when i drink."

rafe sat up, taking in a deep breath, looking down at both of your hands in his before looking up into your eyes, "about what you said-"

"rafe, let's just forget it, okay. it's no big deal."

"it is." the boy squeezed your hands, seeking for eye contact, "the thing is... it's not that i don't feel the same way towards you that you feel towards me." rafe cleared his throat, trying to find the right words to express what he wanted to say, "i just... my mom is the last person i said those words to. they were the last words i said to her."

"rafe..."

"she..." rafe took in a deep breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, clearing his throat again to try and get rid of the weak tone in his voice, "my mom was sick. ovarian cancer. i slept next to her every night, and just like every other night, i told her, 'goodnight, mom. i love you.' and she said the same. then when i woke up... the arm that was around me was cold."

you squeezed his hand, watching as rafe clenched his jaw, trying to hold back tears.

"after my mom... no one's said that to me. and i've never said it to anyone. it's like i was raised in a house where telling someone you love them was a sign of weakness. i do feel that way towards you, there are a thousand different poems, a thousand different words that describe the way i feel towards you, but... i just can't say those words, not yet. but once i can... i know they're gonna be said to you."

you withdrew one of his hands, moving it so it was cupping rafe's cheek, your thumb drawing small strokes on his skin. "i get that. you don't have to say it. i can be patient, for you. i'd do anything for you rafe."

rafe's eyes met yours, a small, melancholic smile slowly taking over his lips, the boy nodding softly, bringing your hand that was still intertwined with his to his lips and pressing a kiss there, making you chuckle softly.

"i want in fact more of you. in my mind i am dressing you with light; i am wrapping you up in blankets of complete acceptance and then i give myself to you. i long for you; i who usually long without longing, as though i am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you."

"who's that by?"

"franz kafka."

"the bug guy?" you teased, making rafe burst out into a laugh "the guy who wrote about a guy turning into a bug?"

but rafe quieted you down by simply bringing his lips to yours.

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goorgeousz · 23 hours ago

Note

so i have a request or idea but i'm sorry to say i didn't think about her in the shower, i thought about her while i was crying lmao🫠🥲

a few days ago i read a book where the protagonist's father treated her terribly:( and her partner tells his father'don't talk to my wife like that' and they leave, he comforts her and is the best husband ever written.🥹🥹

so all I thought about was my big, angry man ✨Hotch✨ maybe they go to a family dinner for the first time and see how the reader's family treats them, belittling their work and stuff like that, until at one point they say like 'we never know how she got someone so as interesting as you Aaron' and he just explodes because cute man defends his lady and he's just grotesque and all to defend her and she's crying because she loves Hotch too much and that he saw so much in her It means a lot because she has never really felt like this. 😭🤍🤍

i hope this helps you, it felt better in my head than when i wrote it.🥹🥹♥️

i love what you do, sending you love!

xoxoxo

to be loved is to be known | aaron hotchner

pairing: bf!aaron hotchner fem!gf!reader

summary: reader didn’t want aaron to meet her family. after one dinner he understands why.

content/tw: established relationship, crying, reader has siblings, toxic family, angst, fluffy ending, reader’s mother makes comments about her weight

word count: 3k

a/n: I absolutely loved your request, best believe I dropped all of my WIPs to write this one (sorry not sorry). I hope whatever reason you were crying about it’s over, but if it isn’t, then I hope this can warm your heart a little. Thank you so much for your request and your kind words!!! Sending much much much love, hugs and kisses!!

all hotch tag: @winyourheartemma

dividers by @uzmacchiato

masterlist <3

You weren’t hoping for a car accident. You weren’t hoping for your boyfriend’s phone to start ringing with a new and very urgent case.

But as you sat in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s car on the way to your childhood house, you couldn’t help but wish something – anything – got in the way.

It was only a few days prior when Aaron, your boyfriend of almost 7 months, decided to drop the bomb. The ‘I’ve never met your family’ bomb. And later that day, when your mother called you (like she did every Tuesday night) he was with you. He was comfortably seated on your couch, staring at you with puppy eyes as you had the weekly catch-up with your mom (which resumed in talking your ear off about whatever stupid subject was on her mind). So, you couldn’t help but offer a family dinner to introduce them to your boyfriend, to which she, for the first time in a few months, was actually happy and excited about.

The regret hit it like a truck at the exact moment he walked out your door. But there was no way of coming back now, after it was all set up. Aaron seemed actually excited about meeting your family, and you understood that this was probably a big deal for him. In general, actually. It was a big step in a relationship, you recognize. And it’s not like you weren’t ready for that step, you and him were probably living together by now. It was that you didn’t want to pop the perfectly healthy bubble you both created.

And family dinners were always… stressful.

You could’ve just explained that to him. Aaron, being the perfectly polite and respectable man that he was, would understand immediately. But you didn’t want to be the whiny immature little girl who couldn’t deal with problems. You were an adult, you paid your own bills, you had your own place. And he was the Unit Chief of the BAU, a title that on its own raised expectations. You couldn’t be the FBI bossman’s girlfriend and stress about your mom calling out your weight, or about your father criticizing your job. And if this wasn’t enough, Aaron was amazing. He was the most kind, loving and appreciative man you’ve ever met. You wanted to be good for him. So if you had to endure a few hours with your family, then be it. He was worth it.

And selfishly, you wanted to brag about dating him to your family. Yes, dad, mom. I’ve made it. Suck it.

When the day came, saying you were stressed was an understatement. Aaron sat quietly on your bed watching you change your outfit a handful of times, try at least three hairstyles and do a full face of make-up twice. He didn’t say a word about it. Unless when he complimented you, to which he did evey time.

You didn’t cry, which was always a good sign.

You held the flowers and the wine he brought while he drove. The forty-seven minutes drive rode without music. He found it strange, because you insisted on blasting your playlists even when the drive wasn’t long enough for a single song (when it happened, he always made sure to drive extra slow to make sure you sang every word and drummed every note of it).

If he noticed you shifting your position (every two minutes), or you rechecking your makeup on the rearview mirror (every red light), or you applying your lipgloss (three times and once more when you got there), he didn’t say anything.

Just before you reached the handle to open the door, he turned to you, reaching over the console to grab your hand.

“Is everything ok?” you huffed a laugh at his question, leaning over and giving him a peck on the lips.

“They are gonna fall in love with you, Aaron. Just like I did.” you said, honestly. He scanned your eyes and when he made sure you were being honest (he always knew when you lied, that’s why you came up with a method of being evasive everytime you didn’t want to tell the truth).

Squeezing your hand one last time, he stepped out of the car, quickly making his way towards your door. He took the flowers and the wine off your arms, helping you get off the seat and walking with you up the front stairs.

Before you knocked you turned to face him, a rush of courage running through your veins with being so close to the house.

“Listen, before we get in…”

Whatever you were about to confide in him got interrupted by the front door opened. Your mother stood there, with a tight smile she reserved to you, her beloved daughter.

“I thought it was you, my dear. You must be Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner. It’s a pleasure finally meeting you.” she cheered, standing her hand. He gave her a polite smile.

“Just, Aaron, please. The pleasure is all mine, Ma’am.”

“Come in, please. Honey, will you please finish up the kitchen?” she asks, rushing your boyfriend inside without giving you a second glance.

Aaron chased after your eyes, worriedly, but you just dismissed him, winking and mouthing a ‘Told you.’

You quickly made your way towards the kitchen, your body remembering all too well how to walk those corridors. Just like always, you finished off dinner, making sure the dishes were done and everything was in its place while you heard the laughter of the rest of them in the living room.

“There she is, my beautiful baby girl.” your father cooed, standing up on his seat next to Aaron when you walked in and approaching you to hug you “We were just showing Aaron here your child pictures.” he spoke, laughing.

You felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment, biting hard on your inside cheeks to keep from complaining. No mature woman would throw a tantrum over a child photo album.

“She hated pictures. We tried to collect memories, you know, Aaron?” your mom recited, showing a sequence of pictures “But she just didn’t accept it. Always grumpy, always turning away. You got yourself a hard one.” she laughed, playfully pushing his shoulder.

He stared at the pictures, somehow amazed. Your heart raced at the smile growing on his face (like it always did). He held one photo, your least favorite one. Your face was puffy with crying, your hair wildly flying everywhere. You had your mouth open like you were saying something (probably begging them to stop), and your braces shone against the flash of the camera. Your clothes were clearly not your size, your posture curved like you were trying to turn into a ball.

You hated that picture with all of your being, but your parents kept showing them to everyone who dared to stop by. Aaron held it close to your face, his eyes with nothing but found as he said

“So your eyes have always been this shiny. I’ve always wondered.” you smiled at him, the warmth of his love for you never failing to make you feel at home.

“Well, let’s eat before the food gets cold, right?” your mother announced, rushing everyone into the dining room.

It all went surprisingly well (at least as well a dinner with your parents could go).

“This is delicious, Mrs.” Aaron complimented, after your mother refilled his plate.

“Thank you, dear. Do you cook, Aaron?” she asked, dragging his name as if she was enjoying being that close to an FBI agent.

“I can get by.”

“He’s lying. Aaron is an amazing cook.” you interrupted, nudging him with a proud smile.

“We figured, right, darling?” she asked your father “I noticed the moment she started eating more. Her puffy cheeks can’t deny it! Just like when she was my baby, following me everywhere.” your mother cooed, leaning over to your chair and pinching your cheek.

For the first time that evening Aaron looked absolutely mortified. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He didn’t know where to begin. It would be funny seeing him all flabbergasted if it weren’t for the ache on your heart from your mother’s words.

Whoever said that time heals everything is full of shit.

Just like that, your father changes the subject for your teenage stories: your least favorite subject in the entire world.

“I’ll tell you what, Aaron. You’re a brave one. We knew it from the one: she’s a hard one.” your father pointed at you with his chin, smiling like he was complimenting you.

“What do you mean?” your boyfriend asked, sounding genuinely confused.

You could see right through his act. The way his knuckles went white at how hard he gripped the silverware, the muscle on his jaw flexing like he was struggling to keep tightly shut. You wanted to kiss his cheeks until his dimples started showing again.

“Oh, you know. Don’t take me the wrong way, we love our grumpy baby girl.” and then, he turned his attention to you “Take it easy on him, sweetheart. He’s a good one, you won’t want him running away. Don’t make it so hard for him.”

Aaron stepped up, interrupting before any other subject got introduced and he lost his chance.

“Loving your daughter is the easiest and most effortless thing I’ve ever done.” he said, with a slight frown.

He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t trying to make you feel better. He was stating a fact. He was saying it so sure of himself, that made your parents seem crazy not to feel the same way.

You bit back a smile, bumping your knee against him. He did it back. ‘Thank you.’ ‘I got you.’

“Of course you say that.” your father laughed like he told an inside joke “Look at your job. Speaking of which, we want to hear everything about it.”

And then your mother started rambling about a few cases she watched on the news, asking details and making all kinds of questions, to which Aaron made sure to answer evasively enough to not break protocol, but making sure to spill some uneventful details to distract them. Your heart swelled with love every time he directed his attention towards you, asking details he “forgot” but told you in private, just to include you (on dinner with your family in your childhood home).

“I want to take a moment to appreciate you being here, Aaron.” your mother started, beaming at him “I know you are a very busy man, and I hope it didn’t mess your schedule up.”

“No, I really wanted to come. Thank you for having me.”

She just dismissed him with a wave of his hand “I can only imagine how hard it must’ve been to make time to be here with us. It’s very important for our family. I say this because our other children all also have very important jobs, and unfortunately weren’t able to make it in such short notice.” she looked at him apologetically. Aaron only stared back, once again too stunned to speak. Your mother looked back at you, throwing a wink and a lopsided smile “The perks of not having big responsibilities.”

“That’s not…” Aaron’s speech got interrupted right away. You tried not to sigh too loudly.

“There’s something I want to do.” your father announces, clasping his hand together with an excited smile.

Your mother gasped “Do you think it’s time, my dear?”

“Absolutely, darling. Wait here, you two.”

You weren't sure what was about to happen, but you were sure it couldn’t be good.

What an euphemism.

A couple minutes later your father gets back with a champagne, sparkly and expensive. Your face falls at its sight. You bite your cheek not to cry.

Your mother stands up right next to him, and they look at you like they were about to make an oscar-winner level of speech.

“When our children were babies, we bought each of them one of those.” he lifts the bottle “We kept them with all of our love, waiting to pop them open when the moment came. And today, it's time for our final bottle. We had promotions, graduations, admissions. It makes me emotional to think how long we’ve come. When our baby was just seven, she had a dream. She wanted to find a loving and rich husband and live as a princess.” he chuckled, raising his hands in apology “Now, I do not want to jinx it, but I do think…”

“That’s so unbelievably disrespectful.” Aaron spat.

Silence.

More silence.

Your father clears his throat.

“Perdon me?” your mother tries.

“The entire evening I watched both of you mistreat her, sugarcoating it with a half-hearted compliment. It’s very clear to me that none of you value her as the woman she is, and there’s only one reason: you don’t know her. And aren’t even slightly interested in doing it." His tone was harsh and straightforward, glaring daggers at your parents. They seemed small and insignificant in front of the anger boiling over Aaron’s eyes. “It’s impressive to me how you don’t even realize how poorly you’ve been treating her. She’s the smartest, kindest, most selfless and talented woman I know, and you two have the audacity to pop up a champagne as if her biggest accomplishment in life is getting a boyfriend?” he chuckles darkly “I’m incredibly proud and sorry at the same time at how immune she is to your behavior. But I’m not, and let me say this loud and clear: I will not, under no circumstances, tolerate anyone treating my girlfriend like that. Anyone.”

He said, his eyes fulminating them. With a short nod, Aaron stood up and walked himself out the door, not waiting for anyone to lead him out. You followed suit behind him, not even sparing a glance to your parents.

The two of you drove silently all the way back to his place, without not much more than a word. Your mind raced with thoughts, your whole life passing through your mind like a movie, so many things you thought were normal. So many memories, so many feelings. You were nowhere near comprehending everything, but it was a start. You could see it more clearly now.

Aaron locked the door after you got in, and you heard him sigh.

“Listen, honey, I’m so sorry…” he interrupted himself when he heard you sniff. He touched your shoulder, aching to hold you close, but now knowing if that’s what you want “Are you crying? I apologize, it wasn’t my place…”

This time, you were the one interrupting him. You turned around and threw yourself on him, burying your face on his chest and crying your eyes out. His breathing deepened, kissing the top of your head and stroking your hair.

You had no idea how much time you spent like that, but eventually he picked you up with ease and sat down on the couch with you curled up on his lap.

After a while, when your sobbing toned down to silent tears, you glanced up at him.

“Thank you, Aaron. I’ve never felt so seen in my entire life.” he held you closer, like he wanted to keep you close to his heart forever, protecting you from every possible harm.

“At first, I thought you didn’t want me to meet your family because you weren’t there yet. Relationship wise.” he began.

You pulled yourself away from his chest, still seated on his lap but shifting to face him “Not at all. I just didn’t think they deserved you.”

He gave you a pointed look “They don’t deserve you.” He stared deeply into your eyes, as if he wanted to make sure you understood “The very first thing you said to me when you first met was that you were complicated.”

Aaron took a deep breath, watching your eyes like he finally completed the puzzle. “You always seemed ready for me to leave you, always made sure to look understanding. Like you believed I would give up on you, and it would be only the right thing to do. You always mentioned, between a joke and another, that you were a problem, a burden. That you didn’t deserve me, like it isn’t the other way around.” your gaze fell to your hands, the weight of being seeing hard on you.

“Aaron…” you whispered, your voice weak from all the crying. He gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. To see every emotion he felt towards you. He kissed your chin, each of your cheeks, where you probably had tear strains. He kissed your swollen eyes, your makeup defined smudged. He kissed your forehead, your nose and your lips, taking extra long there. When he made sure you were paying attention, he pulled back and kept speaking.

“I remember thinking what on earth made someone like you believe that. The thought consumed me. I needed to know, needed to understand where all that came from. You know, profiler.” he joked, which made you laugh weakly.

“And somehow you missed the reason why I didn’t take you to meet my parents sooner.” you teased. He rolled his eyes.

“In our line of work, when we end up in a case that is, for some reason, personal to us, the protocol is to step back. Do you know why?” you shook your head “Because love can cloud your judgement. It certainly did mine.”

“Careful, agent Hotchner. You might make me think you’re in love with me or something.” you joked. He smiled, giving you another kiss.

“I am. Desperately so. And apart from what you think, it’s not difficult. I can’t imagine a life where I met you and didn’t fall in love with you. It’s the most natural thing for me.” you press your lips together to keep them from shaking, as your eyes filled with tears “Do you realize you’ve absorbed their disturbing opinions of you? You keep repeating them to yourself like a mantra, like it's a fact. I always wondered why you think so lowly of yourself. It’s now clear.”

“I hate that.”

He kissed the tip of your nose.

“ I’ll tell you what: we’re on this together.”

“On what?” you gave him a puzzling look.

“We’re breaking down those walls, brick by brick. Every single lie they made you believe was true, we’re tearing it all apart.”

“Ugh, this sounds like a hard job.” you muttered.

“It’s not. In the slightest.” he disagreed immediately “Thank you, honey. Thank you for letting me see that part of your life. Thank you for allowing me to love you, and for loving me back. You amaze me more each day, and I’ll make it my personal mission to make you see it too.” His words were low and serious, not made to impress. Made to let you know, to make you believe.

“Even if it takes your whole life?” you asked, trying to make it sound like a joke to mask your insecurity.

It would be a long way to go, but the love flooding over his eyes was a great first step. “Especially if it takes my whole life.”

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lessersole · 2 days ago

Text

The Catch - Part Two

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: With the criminal gang still after you, and a new plan from the head of the Thunderbolts, Bucky and Yelena have to do even more to keep you safe.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: abduction, being restrained (not in a fun way), mentions of alcohol, creepy/sneaky behaviour (not from Bucky or Yelena).

NO THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS! I've not even seen it yet.

Part one

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

Three weeks later, you’re still dealing with the repercussions of the attempted abduction. Yelena brought you back to the city, but since the location of your shared apartment had been compromised, you couldn’t return to it. Instead her job - now significantly less of a mystery to you - had offered you both a protected apartment in their New York headquarters, the old Avengers tower.

At first the novelty of it had been exciting - you were living rent-free on the 18th floor in the middle of Manhattan, with stunning views across the city in every room. You could order food or supplies from the on-site restaurant and shop on the ground floor, also all complimentary, or visit one of the many gyms around the tower. There was even a small cinema room, a climbing wall…almost anything you could want. Unfortunately, what you couldn’t have was freedom.

The group who’d targeted you were still at large, they knew what you looked like and, according to Yelena’s boss, even where you worked. So until they were found, you were restricted to the tower. You weren’t a prisoner, Yelena had explained, her sulky attitude giving away that she was passing on someone else’s instructions, but they couldn’t guarantee your safety if you left.

At first fear kept you willingly contained in the luxury building, then concern about Yelena, who was still blaming herself, and how guilty she’d feel if anything happened to you. You’d also hoped you might get to see more of Bucky - this was his workplace too after all - but other than a quick visit a couple days after you left the cabin, he’d all but vanished.

Now, you were getting antsy. With Yelena away more often than not, remote work and video calls were the only social contact you were getting, and the closest you had to fresh air was an occasional risky visit to the Tower’s wind-battered balcony.

As you endure another lonely evening scrolling through streaming services in a fruitless attempt to stave off boredom, there’s a brisk knock on the door of your private apartment. You leap up excitedly, glad for the distraction and hoping this is Yelena - with Bucky alongside her if you’re lucky - to tell you the enemy gang has finally been dealt with. Instead, the person who strolls in without waiting for you to answer the door is Yelena’s boss, Val.

You pull up short, suddenly worried she’s arriving with bad news - you’ve seen her a few times, but she’s never visited you - you’ve never actually spoken to her before.

“Val, hi. Is something wrong? Are Yelena and Bu- is everyone alright?”

Val narrows her eyes at you, mouth pursing in a way that could be either thoughtful or disdainful. “How very familiar of you,” she purrs. Definitely disdainful. “Let me start by introducing myself. I am Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine, head of this organisation and your friend’s boss. You can call me Director.”

You’ve heard enough about the Contessa to expect this sort of behaviour, but her icy calm relieves some of your worry - surely she wouldn’t be this petulant if she was giving you bad news.

“Director. Sorry,” you defer. “Is everything alright? Everyone’s safe?”

“What an interesting little place you have here,” she mutters airily, ignoring your question and casting a patronising eye over your relatively tidy living space, her gaze lingering on the dinner dishes still stacked in the sink.

“Uh, yeah,” you’re not sure how to reply to her, “Thank you for letting me stay here. But is everyone-”

“Yes, yes, everyone’s fine,” she answers with a dismissive wave of her perfectly manicured hand, “And I’m so glad to hear you’re grateful for us giving you a home.”

Now it’s your turn to narrow your eyes at her carefully manufactured smile.

She continues, “I’m sure you’re so eager to repay us for our generosity. And to get out of here before you die of boredom. Or old-age. Or being crushed beneath a toppling pile of dirty dishes.”

“Yes?” you respond, apprehension turning your answer into a question.

“Oh I’m so glad to hear that,” Val steps closer to you, “After all, it’s not just Yelena who’s working overtime to ensure your safety. Sergeant Barnes seems strangely invested as well. I heard he even came to visit you here, check you were okay. Such a softie. He usually hates coming to the Tower, which can be very frustrating, logistically.”

She grasps your shoulders, making you jump. “But now you’ve agreed to help, this can all be over so much faster.”

Her smile widens.

—

You try to put all your frustration into your punch as you slam a fist into the solid leather.

“Woah,” Agent Rumlow laughs, “what did that punching bag ever do to you?”

You huff out a breath and wipe your arm along your forehead, catching the sweat before it drips into your eyes. “It can take it.” You tell him, stepping away from the bag to take a pull from your water bottle.

The catch to Val’s suspicious offer became clear almost as soon as you’d accidentally agreed to help. It turns out she had almost all the intel on your would-be abductors, except the location of their base.

“We started to think they were hiding in a cave or something,” Val had chuckled mirthlessly, “But we checked all those, and they weren’t.”

What they had discovered was that the base was so well-hidden and so impregnable, that they took all their hostages there, since it guaranteed they wouldn’t be found or rescued.

“Which means…” Val trailed off suggestively, encouraging you to make the connection.

“You need bait.”

“Bingo.”

At first, all you’d had to do was leave the Tower. You’d been given access to the back stairs and told when to go out - times that synced up with the guard’s shift changes, so it would look convincingly like you were sneaking out - but over a week later you remained entirely un-abducted.

You could tell Val was getting irritated, reminding you in an increasingly terse tone that you needed to forget a lifetime of safety instructions and walk alone down dark alleys, keep earphones on, go headfirst into any risky situations, but the criminal gang were nowhere to be seen. All that had happened to you in ten days of living dangerously was an attempted mugging that you’d only narrowly escaped, and the small tastes of freedom weren’t enough to make up for your continued confinement or Val’s bad moods.

After that near-miss, you’d doubled the amount of time you spent in the gym, building up your strength as a way to feel safer. When one of Val’s agents had offered to give you some tips, acting as a personal trainer-slash-self-defence coach, you’d gladly taken him up on the offer.

It also helped to have a friend you could talk to about your bizarre new life.

Agent Rumlow - Brock - smiles understandingly. “Being stuck inside when you’re not dangling on Val’s line getting a bit much?”

“What makes you think that?” You joke breathlessly as you adjust the wrappings on your hands that have come loose from your furious swings at the punching bag.

Brock chuckles, coming over to help re-wrap the tape around your knuckles, “Look, I get it. I had a stake-out once that took six weeks. Six weeks of being stuck in a tiny run-down apartment in a half-abandoned building with another agent I didn’t even like. At least you’ve got modern amenities, and good company.” He winks at you, using your hand to pull you closer so he can casually bump your shoulder with his.

The action makes you wonder, not for the first time, how serious his flirting is - if he might ask you out if you were actually free to go out on a date.

He’s not a bad-looking guy, tall and muscular with thick, dark hair, and you would have considered saying yes, if not for the still-vivid memory of your kiss in the cabin with Bucky. Nearly a month since you’ve seen him, you still can’t get the supersoldier out of your head. And every time Brock’s brown eyes hold your gaze, you can’t help but compare them to Bucky’s bright, intense stare.

“But if you are getting really tired of being stuck here with me - I have an idea for how we can speed things up,” Rumlow suggests.

You look up at him, curious. “I’m listening.”

He gives you a knowing smile. “What I learnt on that stake-out was that sometimes you can’t wait for them to come to you. Sometimes you have to put yourself right in their path.”

—

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the limousine and nervously smooth down your silky floor-length cocktail dress, trying to look more confident than you feel and pushing down the thought that things have got seriously out of hand.

Brock had told you that the team had discovered the head of the target gang was going to be at an up-scale art gallery party in Long Island. Even if they weren’t certain he’d be heading back to their base after, they knew he’d be surrounded by bodyguards and lackeys, none of whom would pass up a chance to impress their notoriously fickle boss by finding and snatching one of his targets - you.

So now here you are, on the arm of a tuxedo-wearing Rumlow, attempting to blend in with the obscenely wealthy and largely criminal crowd. He’s assured you his cover for the night is secure, posing as a wealthy hedge fund manager looking for a few investment pieces, with you as his date. He’d even insisted on running into you on one of your Val-sanctioned trips outside the Tower, buying you a few drinks and getting your number so he could make a show of inviting you here - “in case they’re watching.”

As on your other trips outside the Tower, you have location trackers hidden all over you - in the shoes, necklace, bracelet and ring Rumlow gave you when you were getting ready. You’d also added one of the trackers Val had given you, a miniature transmitter that tucked away in your hair, hidden at the nape of your neck.

The preparation doesn’t help your rising nerves, knowing that your abduction is the aim of the evening.

As you reach the top of the grand entrance stairway, Rumlow nudges you ahead, pulling his phone out to snap a photo of you. “Gotta make it look real,” he mutters with a grin as he rejoins you, “And if I’m out with a girl as hot as you, wearing that dress, I’d be taking a lot of pics.”

You blame your nerves for how off-putting it feels, having his eyes rove over you. Rumlow gave you the dress, and his reaction makes you suspect he picked it out himself. It’s more revealing than you’d typically choose, the thigh slit reaching almost to your hip, and with a low cut front and back that forces you to go braless, which you know hasn’t escaped his notice. You shiver in the chill evening breeze - he hadn’t thought to give you a wrap - and urge him inside with a hand on his arm and a smile you hope looks natural.

Inside the grand hall the two of you mingle with the other guests, Brock keeping hold of you at all times in a way you assume is meant to be reassuring, as you sip champagne and pretend to admire the art. Mimicking the other guests, you force your face into an expression of detached interest, but you’re wound tight with tension, the expensive wine like sandpaper in your throat, and Rumlow’s hand unpleasantly clammy on the bare skin of your back.

You have no idea what these gang members might look like, but as you glance around you’re surprised to not see any faces you recognise from the Tower. On each of your previous trips out there have always been one or two agents surreptitiously loitering nearby, ready to act fast if anything goes south. For an event as big as this, it would be easy for them to blend in amongst the crowd - surely Rumlow’s not the only person Val sent here?

Brock leans in close to you, his dry lips brushing your ear, “It’s showtime,” he whispers, before kissing your cheek and straightening up. “I’m going to the men’s room,” he tells you, loud enough for those near you to hear. “Feel free to have another drink, while you wait for me.” He grins wolfishly, snatching a full champagne flute from a passing waiter and pressing it into your hand before disappearing into the crowd.

You sip from the glass and focus on your breathing, hoping your shaky legs won’t tilt you off your too-high heels. The next part of the plan is for you to follow Rumlow to the bathroom - you’re more likely to be snatched out of the public view. You wait a few moments, gulp down most of your drink, then make your way to the women’s restroom at the back of the hall.

The gleaming white bathroom isn’t empty, but there aren’t many people around. None of them spare you a second glass, so you try to act natural - entering a cubicle, washing your hands, then leaving. Still, no one approaches you.

As there’s still no sign of Brock either, you pull your phone out of the small clutch you were provided and send him a message.

Everything ok?

It’s read instantly, and followed by the dots that show he’s typing.

Yeh, his reply comes, where r u?

You frown, but before you can reply another message pops up.

U cm to the back bathroom? The left?

You glance around you, and sure enough there’s a thick wooden door ajar at the end of the corridor. Maybe a staff area, or more private bathroom. You’re a little apprehensive - something feels off, but you can’t tell what. This whole evening is too weird for you to trust your own instincts.

The heavy door swings open silently, and you’ve barely taken a few steps into the dim hallway before an all too familiar sharp sting on your neck makes you flinch. Muscles instantly weak, you can’t even turn before your body folds and you collapse into darkness.

—

The first thing you notice when you come to is the uncomfortable cramped position you’re in, and the swaying feeling that isn’t just in your head. Despite your lingering grogginess, your inability to even sit up makes you realise you’re trapped in the trunk of a car.

Panic surges up in you, and you shakily take a deep breath - this was the plan, you remind yourself. Eventually, the car will stop, you’ll be rescued, and the whole gang will be taken out, freeing you to go back to your normal life.

Unfortunately, your brain can’t convince the rest of your body. Your breaths hitch and your heart pounds, so in another attempt to reassure yourself, you focus on the location trackers that are your lifeline - and a hot surge of nausea pulses through as you realise you can’t feel them. The cable tie trapping your hands behind your back is the only thing circling your wrists, and your necklace, ring and shoes have vanished. You can only hope the final tracker in your hair is still there.

—

Bucky cracks his knuckles. This whole operation had felt wrong from the start.

He and Yelena had been assigned to stake out the gallery party, following Val’s information that the head of the gang would be there. What neither of them had known until he saw it through his scope, was that you would also be there. Bucky’s eye had immediately been caught by the sight of you ascending the steps in a slinky dress and his body was flooded with conflicting emotions. It had been too long since he’d seen you, and you looked stunning, but why were you here, of all places? And with Rumlow? The party intel was top secret - way above Brock’s clearance - and yet here he was, leering and pawing at you like he owned you.

“She’s here,” Bucky mutters into his comm device, trying to keep the anger out of his voice, “with Rumlow.”

There’s a shocked pause before Yelena responds, immediately knowing who he means. “What? She isn’t supposed to leave the Tower! And Rumlow is not on this mission - you and me are the only ones Val told about this.”

“I know,” Bucky growls, “but that asshole is here, acting like they’re on a date or something. You didn’t know anything about this?”

“No,” Yelena replies darkly. “I’m calling Val. If this is some extra secret crap she’s pulling-”

“She would have told us.”

“She keeps secrets from us all the time!”

“But hiding this makes no sense,” Bucky points out, “We’re guaranteed to see them, and blindsiding us doesn’t help the mission,”

Yelena curses, “So what’s going on here?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t like it.” Backing away from his hidden vantage point, Bucky goves in to his first instinct. “I’m going in.”

“No!” Yelena’s response is immediate, “That won’t help.”

“I can sneak in through the back. Into the bathroom. Get her out-”

“And if you’re seen?” Yelena hisses, “It will be even more dangerous for her.”

As much as he hates it, Bucky can;t argue with that. Instead, he stays crouched in the hills overlooking the venue, Yelena on the opposite side of the building, both intensely focused on the arriving attendees, and the glimpses of the party they can get through the windows.

In the weeks since he’d met you, Bucky had been unable to get you out of his head. He’d been immediately intrigued by you, and that kiss in the cabin - that kiss he couldn’t stop reliving - had been electric. He didn’t date much, but he knew that alone couldn’t explain the fire that had ripped through him at the touch of your lips, and pulsed hotly in his body whenever he thought of you.

He’d insisted on helping Yelena track down the people who had threatened you, and the weeks of frustrated deadends were wearing on him. All he wanted was to eliminate the person who’d put a target on your back, wrap you safely in his arms and make sure no one ever thought of hurting you again.

But now here you were, not just in the path of danger, but laid right at its door, with Brock Rumlow’s slimy hands holding you there.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, he hears Yelena’s voice in his ear again. “She’s moving! Tech has five trackers on her, plus one on her phone. All but one are still in the building, but the last shows movement, fast, heading west on the highway.”

Bucky’s up and on his bike in seconds, skidding onto the road in a plume of dirt. As he and Yelena follow the tracker, she fills him in on what headquarters had told her after she reported your appearance at the party.

“Val’s been sending her out of the Tower to try and draw them out - using her as bait. But just in the city. She hadn’t authorised anything tonight. Rumlow’s gone rogue - she said trying to get a promotion or something maybe - four of the five trackers were checked out by him earlier today. The fifth is one Val’s team gave her from when she started leaving the Tower.”

“And let me guess,” Bucky snarls, “that’s the one we’re following?”

“You got it.”

“You think Val really believes Rumlow’s doing this for a promotion?”

“I think she said that so we don’t kill him before she can talk to him.”

“Too bad.”

“Точно,” Yelena agreed.

—

Bucky’s got the throttle of his bike in a death grip. The only thing stopping him putting finger-shaped dents in the bar is the knowledge that breaking the thing would stop him pursuing the bastards who took you.

“It’s gone!” Yelena’s panicked shout crackles into his earpiece, followed by a string of Russian expletives “The last tracker signal - it’s - it’s disappeared.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches so hard he swears he hears a tooth crack.

After chasing the tracker for miles, until long after the sun set behind the mountains in front of them, they’ve lost their only heading.

Sitting on their idling bikes a few minutes later, they pour over Yelena’s mapping screen.

“The signal must have been lost inside the mountain,” Bucky assesses, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“Not if it’s a normal mountain,” Yelena frowns.

“Maybe it’s not.” They share a look, “Maybe that’s why we haven’t been able to find them all this time.”

“Дерьмо,” she swears, “More proof they’re not just a small-time gang then. At least that narrows the search area. Look, there’s only one road into the mountain, over this bridge, through the tunnel and out the other side.”

“It can’t be that simple.”

“It’s never that simple,” Yelena groans, “How about I go into the mountain the obvious way, you look for something else? Some other way they could have taken her.”

Not wanting to waste any more time discussing tactics, Bucky agrees. As Yelena speeds off over the bridge, he skids his bike down the steep side of the hill to the ravine underneath it. Racing over the rocky ground, he keeps his eyes focused on the steep mountainside.

“Bucky, can you hear me?”

“Yes, have you found anything?”

“No,” Yelena’s disappointment is clear over the line, “Nothing promising. But if you’re still hearing me then it’s not the mountain blocking the tracker signal.”

Bucky’s silent. This isn’t good news.

“The only thing I’ve found is a road tunnel. It was kind of disguised, so I thought, maybe - but it just goes outside, down to the base of the mountain.”

“That’s where I am,” alertness drowns out his foreboding, “What side of the mountain?”

“South,”

“There’s no road down here,” he tells Yelena as he speeds up, “So a road down from there -”

“Is suspicious,” Yelena finishes.

Sure enough, as he rounds a spur of the mountain, Bucky spies a flattened path in the dirt leading towards what looks like just a crack in the cliffside. Leaving his bike far away enough that the engine won’t echo within, he silently approaches and peers inside. The darkness of the night outside helps his enhanced eyes adjust even faster.

“This is it,” he whispers to Yelena through his comm, “I’m going in. Wait outside.”

“Buc-” The rest of Yelena’s reply is cut off as he uses his vibranium arm to push the false rock face open enough for him to slip inside - whatever stopped your tracker working has silenced his communication device. Pulling a knife from his holster, confident that he’s found your location, he sneaks into the bunker.

—

You shudder violently as another chill wracks your body. You’re still bound by cable ties - ankles together and hands behind your back, and shivering just makes your muscles ache more. The black sack over your head stops you seeing anything, but you can feel the hard floor beneath you, cold and damp through your thin dress.

After a painfully bumpy journey being knocked around the trunk of a car, you were dragged out, squinting in the sudden light before your captors forced a bag over your head and lugged you away to your current location. The only clues to your surroundings were the echoey footsteps as you’d been carried away, and an alternating pattern of bright and dark that reminded you of walking down poorly lit tunnels. A sharp turn ended with you being dropped to the floor, the clang of metal on metal and receding footsteps making you certain that even if you broke out of your bonds, you wouldn’t be able to escape.

At least your body could only sustain the adrenaline rush of panic so long, and you focused on breathing, telling yourself that having your eyes covered meant they probably weren’t planning on killing you.

Unless they’d hidden your face to make your execution easier on them.

Shutting down that thought, you wriggle upright, leaning against the rough wall. It scratches your bare back but you feel less vulnerable when you’re not lying down - you can hear men’s voices not too far off, and can just about make out enough lewd comments to know they appreciate the dress Rumlow put you in.

Was he in on this? It would explain the loss of your trackers, the lack of other agents and the general unease you’d felt all night. Anger flares at the thought, and you grab onto it, desperate to feel anything other than fear and despair. Eventually even that peters out, leaving you numb - and with nothing to do but wait, alone in the dark.

It feels like long hours later, once your frozen body has become as numb as your mind, that a sudden hush from the men makes you sit up straight, attention focused. The moment of silence is rushed away in a chorus of shouts, yelps and swishing, thudding sounds that you can’t identify. You jump as gunshots ring out, ending with a strangled cry and heavy thud.

Fully alert, every muscle is tense and locked, your eyes wide as you pant into the fabric. Before you have time to react, a welcome voice, gravelled with emotion, calls your name.

You gasp in relief - Bucky! You wince at a metallic screech, and an instant later the bag is pulled from your head and your sensitive eyes meet Bucky’s relieved ones.

“It’s okay,” he tells you, ripping the cable ties from your wrists, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Your arms scream in pain as they’re released from their cramped position, but that doesn’t stop you flinging them around Bucky’s neck as he removes the ties from your ankles.

“Thank you,” you gasp, sure that you’ve never meant those words so much in your life.

Bucky simply shakes his head, restrained emotion pressing his mouth into a straight line as he wraps his arms around you, squeezing gently as he lifts you to your feet.

“You’re freezing,” He breaks away to take off his jacket and wrap you in it, his concerned eyes noticing your shiving body, from your sack-mussed hair to your bare feet. Without hesitation, he picks you up and moves back through ripped apart iron bars into what you can now see is some sort of underground tunnel system.

Stunned, you cling to him tightly.

“We have to be quick,” he tells you, “Yelena’s outside, but the entrance is a long way-”

“You found her?!” This close even you can hear Yelena’s ecstatic shout in Bucky’s ear as his comm device bursts into life.

“Yes,” he answers, not breaking his stride, “I’ve got her. Where are-”

“I’m inside,” Yelena answers before he can finish his question, “in a control room. Left!”

“What?”

“There’s a fork in front of you, take the left.”

“How do you-”

“This whole place is a Faraday cage, inside it I can see her tracker signal. I know where you are, go left.”

Bucky turns left, moving silently and rapidly through the tunnel with you in his arms.

“There are too many people between you and the way you came in-”

“Not any more,” Bucky growls.

“-this is the only other way out and it’s closer to you.” Yelena explains.

A few twists and turns later, Yelena’s directions lead you to a half-concealed hatch high up in the wall of the tunnel. Once Bucky yanks it open, you can see the starry sky and feel a soft breeze - as well as hear a distinctive hum coming from the silvery mesh covering the opening.

“Don’t touch it,” he warns, switching his hold so he’s grasping you around your thighs, lifting you until you’re practically sitting on his right shoulder, feet against his chest. Yelena explained the rest of her plan to him in rapid Russian, so you know he’s waiting for something. Just as you open your mouth with a question, a deep boom resonates through the base - and the mesh stops buzzing.

Instantly, Bucky rips it away with his vibranium arm and pushes you through the hole with the other. Startled, you find yourself on a dusty slope, steep enough that you’re immediately sliding down it - but luckily not for long enough that you gain too much speed.

Managing to avoid the rocks littering the hillside, you land in a heap on the flat ground and turn to check on Bucky. As you do, you hear a sharp zap and see him tumbling down the hill after you.

“Bike.” he gasps as he lands almost on top of you. “That way. Quick.”

You follow his nod and set off, speeding up once you check that he’s got to his feet. You can tell from how he moves that something’s off, but if it’s not slowing him down, you won’t let it stop you either.

Round a bend you see the same black motorbike he picked you up on months before. Bucky catches you up and mounts it, reaching across himself with his right arm to pull you in front of him, and you realise his metal arm is hanging limp at his side.

“Bucky,” you gasp.

“It’s fine,” he insists through gritted teeth, “It’s temporary. But I need you to work the clutch.”

Imitating his grip on the right, you grasp the left handlebar, fingers over the lever. “Got it,” you assure him.

“Keep hold of me with your other arm,” his voice is gruff in your ear as he slides closer to you, pressing his legs tightly over yours, “And grip with your legs. I’m not letting you fall.”

You grab his forearm as the bike takes off.

—

Following Bucky’s instructions, the two of you zoom safely through the night, ending up at a small motel off the main road. After parking in a secluded spot round the back, Bucky leads you into a room, securing the door behind you.

“You promise Yelena’s safe?” You ask as soon as the last lock clicks into place.

“Yes,” he assures you. You’d already checked on the drive, but you wanted to make sure.

“You said you’re okay too though, and-” you trail off, gesturing to his vibranium arm, still motionless at his side.

With an efficient click and gentle whirring sound, Bucky detaches the arm and lays it on the small table with a sigh. “It’s not a problem. Just needs to recalibrate.” His searching gaze turns back to you, still only wearing his jacket and the silky gown you wore to the party - now decidedly worse for wear. “You probably want to clean up. And warm up - bathroom’s through there. And there are clean sweats in the bag, help yourself.”

He nods to a black kit bag on the bed; the one bed, you can’t help but notice. After dropping his jacket from your shoulders and draping it over one of the small chairs by the table, you open the bag and pull out a t-shirt and sweatpants - they’re soft and clean, and clearly Bucky’s clothes rather than something brought for you, and you have to resist the urge to bury your face in them and inhale deeply. Instead you thank him and move to the bathroom, glad to scrape the grime and dirt from a very long and terrifying day off your skin.

Bucky swaps places with you when you’re done, and you curl up on the bed, exhausted in a way you’ve never been before. Anxiety dances at the edge of your chest, but a combination of the adrenaline crash and the warm scent covering you from Bucky’s clothes leaves you relaxed, almost boneless where you lie - until you hear a series of muttered expletives from inside the bathroom.

Concerned, you slide off the bed and pad over to knock gently on the door. “Everything alright in there?”

“Yep,” comes the immediate reply. You sit back down, not entirely convinced as the grumbles and soft grunts from the bathroom continue.

“You sure you’re okay?” You call out hesitantly.

You hear a resigned sigh before the door swings open to reveal a grumpy and slightly embarrassed Bucky.

“I’m fine, it’s just - goddamn buttons,” he grunts, gesturing vaguely at himself. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt that clings to every muscle in his chest, stomach and arm, and black tactical pants that puddle at his socked feet - and hang open below his hips.

You swallow, hard. It’s probably a good thing you’re so exhausted or you’d be jumping him right now. His dark hair hangs damp in his face, and the heavy brow and slight pout making up his shamefaced expression is unreasonably attractive. Not to mention the visible bulge straining against his boxers beneath his open fly.

“Can I help?” You ask, voice huskier than intended.

An unreadable expression flickers across Bucky’s face as you step towards him.

“Uh,” he bashfully pushes his wet hair back from his face, drawing your attention to his arm again, “If it’s not too-”

“It’s fine,” you tell him a bit too quickly, your voice cracking, “It’s kind of my fault your arm’s not working and – oh,”

You realise why, despite living so long with one arm, Bucky’s struggling now – the palm and fingers of his right hand are red and scorched in a pattern that matches the mesh he ripped though to free you, leaving his motion limited, stiff and visibly sore. Electrical burns, you realise.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s fine,” he sounds nonchalant as he mirrors your response, but you can’t tell if he’s actually unbothered, or if he’s acting that way to alleviate your guilt, “The serum speeds up healing. It’s already better than it was. I’ll be back to normal by the time we’re back in the city.”

You nod but bite your lip, guilt and worry shining on your face.

“And to be clear,” he adds, leaning towards you to emphasise what he’s saying, his eyes catching yours from only inches away, “None of this is your fault. The only ones responsible for any of this are the scum who took you.”

He holds your gaze, and you can smell the clean scent of his body fresh from the shower.

“Got it,” you answer breathlessly, reaching for him. When your eyes drop and your fingers brush the edge of Bucky’s pants you feel him tense, as though trying to keep himself under control. You’re warmed by the thought that this is affecting him as much as it is you.

Pulling the waistband tight over his hips, you fasten the top button with ease, then continue down the others. Despite trying to touch him as little as possible, you can’t help the tingling pulse in your core at being this close, this intimate with him.

Aware that you’re staring a bit too hard, you make the mistake of looking up at him as you close the last button. Above the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the hard set of his jaw - as though he’s trying very hard not to move - you’re captivated by the dark heat in his eyes. You both freeze for an instant, your knuckles still grazing the front of his pants, when you feel a delicious throb beneath your fingers.

Bucky starts back. “Thanks.” His voice is husky.

“No problem,” you respond, audibly out of breath. There’s a beat where you both just stare at each other, before he moves past you into the room, shoving his feet into his boots in an attempt to distract himself from the way he’s reacting. You realise at the same time he does that he’s not going to be able to tie the laces with one hand, and smile slyly at him, nodding to his feet. “You need a hand with those too?”

Bucky looks at you like he’s forgotten what shoes are. “I, uh-” his shoulders relax slightly as he takes in your expression, “I guess - if you don’t mind…”

“Not at all”, your smile widens and you hear his breath catch in his throat as you drop to your knees in front of him, taking your time as you carefully lace him up, pretending not to notice his hand twitching by his side, or the quiet expletives he mutters under his breath.

You look up at him coyly once you finish, not failing to notice how the buttons on his pants now strain tight.

“All done,” you confirm as you stand.

“Thanks. Again.” He doesn’t move back this time, and there’s barely an inch of space between your bodies.

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him softly, “Besides, I’d like to thank you. For rescuing me.”

“There’s no way I wouldn’t have.” Bucky replies, his tone deepening as his eyes drop to your lips, but followed by a spark of amusement. “And it was really a team effort.”

“Even so,” you slowly, gently, place your hands on Bucky’s chest, feeling it swell beneath you as he takes a deep breath, tilting his head down to yours. Your lips meet as you capture each other in a kiss that thrums through you from your toes to your scalp.

The delicious press of him against you pulses through your veins as he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close, licking into your mouth. You graze your teeth along his tongue, his lips, needing and wanting him more than anything you ever have, thrilling as you’re rewarded with a deep groan that reverberates out of him.

As you reluctantly surface for air, his lips trail down your neck, the moan that spills from you making him grip you even harder, his arm across your back, hand tight on your waist - before you remember the angry red burn you saw on him moments ago.

“Wait, your hand,” you manage to gasp out, “Is it hurting?”

He pulls back with a lazy delight at your concern clear in his eyes, “No,” he assures you, tenderly pressing a soft kiss to your flushed lips before pulling back further to look at you with an easy smile. “But thank you for caring.”

“Any time.” You return his dazed smile.

A teasing look crosses his face, “So do you intend to thank Yelena like that as well, or-?”

You laugh, tugging gently on his hair as rebuke. He grins back at you, a broad, open smile you’ve not seen on him before, and you swear you feel your heart swell. “No,” you tell him firmly, using your grip on his hair to pull him back into the kiss.

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

Probably more to come with these two!

Tags: @yesshewrites1 @lcolumbia1988 @vxllys @starfly-nicole @luvr-bunnyy @greatenthusiasttidalwave @oneofstarkskids @ye-olde-trash-panda @rockyeatrock @raelikesdinosaurs @freyathehuntress @whitewolfluvr @xoxabs88xox

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empressdede · 2 days ago

Text

When He’s Not There

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: infidelity (idk why I keep writing this trope but don’t drag me😭), fluff, and smut.

To the world, Egypt and Joshua Fatu were just friends. Best friends.

The kind that finished each other’s sentences, laughed a little too loudly at shared jokes, and spent hours talking about nothing.

The kind who were always too comfortable in each other’s presence — too familiar for it to just be a platonic relationship, but never enough for anyone to question their boundaries.

They had always been that way. Always.

Except, somewhere along the line, the lines between “friends” and “something else” had blurred. Neither of them had ever dared to name it, but it was always there.

The way Joshua’s hand brushed hers when they reached for the same thing, and neither of them would pull back.

The way Egypt could find him in any room without looking, their eyes meeting across crowds with a silent understanding.

The way he would show up for her, no questions asked, even when she told him she was fine, even when she pushed him away.

And yet, they were still just friends.

Everyone else believed it, Egypt believed it, too, at least for a while.

But then came Caleb.

Egypt’s boyfriend of two and a half years.

A man who had once made her feel like she was the center of his world.

Caleb had been kind once, attentive, the kind of boyfriend who would surprise her with flowers, listen to her talk about her day, make her feel seen.

But over time, the attentiveness had faded. Their conversations became clipped and strained, their moments of intimacy sparse. Caleb, the man who once filled her world, had become a stranger. And the more Egypt tried to ignore the distance between them, the more it weighed on her heart.

She should’ve left him, she knew that.

She knew it.

But she didn’t.

Because every time Caleb walked out that door, whether for work or whatever excuse he gave, Joshua was always there to fill the void.

He didn’t ask why she and Caleb were distant.

He didn’t push her to explain why she never quite felt alive when she was with Caleb anymore.

He just showed up. And every time, he was exactly what she needed.

But it wasn’t enough to make her leave Caleb. Not yet.

⸻

The night Joshua won his first World Heavyweight Championship at WrestleMania 41 was supposed to be his night.

It was the culmination of years of hard work, sacrifices, and a relentless pursuit of a dream. It should have been a night to celebrate with his brothers, with his fans, with everyone who had ever supported him.

But as he sat in the back of the company’s rental on the way to his hotel room, belt slung over his shoulder, a familiar ache gnawed at him.

He’d been on top of the world just hours before, standing in the ring, hearing the crowd roar his name. And yet, as he ran his fingers over the cold metal of the title, it didn’t feel as fulfilling as he thought it would.

There was still something missing.

Someone missing.

He’d expected Egypt to be there.

He’d expected to feel her excitement, to share the moment with her. After all, she was always there for him. Their friendship had been built on years of unspoken understanding, late-night talks, and shared dreams. He’d expected to text her after the win, expecting her congratulations, her voice.

But he hadn’t heard from her.

He knew the reason.

Tonight was the anniversary of her and Caleb. The day they had been together for three years. He didn’t need to ask; he didn’t need to be told. He just knew. Caleb had her tonight.

And Joshua had no right to ask for anything else.

⸻

Egypt stood by the hotel room window, the cool breeze from the night air brushing against her skin. She had been pacing for hours, unable to shake the feeling that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. She had meant to stay home with Caleb, to put on a smile and pretend everything was fine.

But Caleb hadn’t seemed to notice her absence when he left for work. Not like she had hoped.

And Joshua…

Joshua had been on her mind all day. She had sent him a text, wishing him luck, but deep down, she knew she wanted to be there for him, celebrating his victory.

She didn’t know when she had stopped caring so much about Caleb’s presence in her life.

Maybe it had been months, maybe even years, but tonight, on the night of her anniversary with Caleb, Egypt knew the truth. She was tired of pretending.

When the door to the hotel room opened, it was Joshua who stepped inside.

His eyes locked onto her instantly, and a breath caught in his throat. She was there. In his hoodie. Her presence felt like everything he had been missing. But the weight of the moment was not lost on him. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Egypt,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “What are you doing here?” His hand instinctively reached for her, needing to touch her to make sure she was real, to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

She smiled softly, the kind of smile that told him everything he needed to know. “I was only going to celebrate with one person tonight,” she said, her voice steady despite the turbulence swirling inside her. “And it wasn’t going to be Caleb.”

Joshua’s breath caught in his chest. “You left him?” he asked, disbelief mixing with the emotion he couldn’t quite contain.

Egypt nodded slowly, stepping closer to him. “I’ll make it up to him later. I’ll figure out the right words. But tonight… tonight is yours.” She reached up to touch the side of his face, her thumb brushing over his jaw. Her gaze was soft but determined. “I want to be here. With you.”

Joshua stood frozen for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. She was here. She had chosen him — even if it was only for tonight, for just a moment. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions crashing inside him.

But all he could do was reach out and pull her into him.

His lips found hers with a desperation he hadn’t even known he felt until this moment. He kissed her as if she was the air he’d been starved of. His hands slid down her back, pulling her impossibly closer, feeling the heat of her skin beneath his fingers. It was the first time in a long while he had felt alive.

Egypt kissed him back with a fierceness that matched his own. She needed him, needed this — needed to feel wanted, needed to feel like she wasn’t just another woman in Caleb’s life, waiting for his scraps. She had been waiting for this for far too long, and now, with Joshua, it felt like it was the only thing that made sense.

She broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I’m scared, Josh,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m scared of what this means. I’m scared of losing everything… losing you…”

Joshua cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. “You won’t lose me,” he said firmly. “But you need to stop pretending. You need to stop lying to yourself. I’m here for you, Egypt. Always.”

She closed her eyes, her heart aching with the weight of his words. “I don’t know how to make this right,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to,” Joshua replied, his lips brushing against her forehead. “We’ll figure it out together. You don’t have to go back to him. Not if it means you have to keep pretending.”

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer. “I don’t want to pretend anymore,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.

Joshua kissed her again, slower this time, savoring every second of it. It wasn’t about the victory tonight. It wasn’t about the championship. It was about them. About the way they had always been, about the way their connection had never really gone away, even when they tried to hide it.

Later, in the quiet of the room, tangled in sheets, their bodies intertwined, they didn’t say much. There were no words for the rawness of what they had shared. No words for the guilt, the longing, the inevitability of it all.

Just the sound of their breathing, their hearts beating in sync for the first time in what felt like forever.

In that moment, there was only the here and now. Only Joshua. Only Egypt. And everything else faded away.

Tonight, when he wasn’t there, Joshua had what he had always wanted.

Tonight, Egypt had what she had been longing for.

The sun barely crept through the blackout curtains of Joshua’s hotel suite, casting a soft glow over the crumpled sheets and tangled bodies. Egypt lay nestled against his chest, her cheek pressed to the steady rise and fall of his breath. For a long time, she didn’t move. She just listened to his heartbeat — slow, strong, safe.

The weight of the night before hovered in the air, thick and unspoken. Her hand was still resting on his chest, her fingers curled lightly around his chain. Joshua had fallen asleep with his arm around her waist, his face buried in her curls like he couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving in the night.

She hadn’t.

She stayed.

Egypt blinked slowly, her lashes brushing against his bare skin. Her heart was heavier than it had been in a long time, but not because she regretted anything. That was the worst part. She didn’t regret last night. Not the way his lips had found hers like a man starved. Not the way he whispered her name like a prayer against her throat. Not the way he looked at her like she was the only thing he’d ever wanted in his life.

No. She didn’t regret any of that.

What she regretted was going home.

Joshua stirred beside her, exhaling through his nose as his arm pulled her in tighter, unconsciously. His voice came to her, low and rough from sleep.

“You’re still here.”

She smiled, eyes still closed. “You sound surprised.”

“I thought you’d be gone before the sun came up.”

Egypt finally looked up at him, their faces so close their foreheads nearly touched. “I thought about it,” she confessed. “But then I thought… I didn’t want this to be just one night.”

His gaze softened, thumb brushing against her bare hip beneath the sheet. “You stayed,” he repeated, like he was reminding himself it was real.

“I did.”

“Then stay a little longer.”

A silence fell between them. Comfortable, but thick with implication.

“It’s WrestleMania weekend,” she whispered. “You have a million things to do. Interviews. Appearances. Media.”

“I canceled them,” he said simply.

Egypt blinked. “You what?”

“I told them I needed rest. Told them I was celebrating my win in private.” His tone turned almost smug. “They bought it.”

“You’re serious?”

Joshua reached out and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “If I’m gonna have you, ‘Gyp… even for a little while… I want all of you. I want both days. Not just scraps of time when he’s not paying attention.”

Her throat tightened. “Josh…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. “Just stay.”

Egypt hesitated. She should’ve said no. Should’ve reminded herself that she had an anniversary dinner waiting back in Georgia with a man who probably wouldn’t even notice she was emotionally absent. But that was the thing about Caleb — he didn’t see her anymore. Not the real her. He saw the version of her he wanted to believe was happy. Settled. Easy.

But Joshua saw everything.

She buried her face in his neck and whispered, “Okay.”

Room service arrived around ten. Egypt had slipped into his oversized hoodie, legs bare, hair loose, and eyes still heavy from sleep. Joshua padded over in nothing but sweats, grabbing the tray and tipping the bellman before locking the door again.

“You really canceled everything today?” she asked again, disbelief coloring her voice as she nibbled on a croissant.

He smirked, sitting beside her on the couch and lifting her legs into his lap. “I told you. If I’m selfish enough to take what I want, I’m gonna be selfish enough to keep it.”

“That’s dangerous talk,” she teased, sipping her coffee.

“Maybe,” he murmured, eyes trailing across her face. “But I’ve been waiting years to have you like this. I’m not letting go that easy.”

Egypt looked away, her heart stumbling over itself. “You always waited,” she said quietly. “Even when I didn’t see it. Even when I chose him.”

Joshua didn’t respond right away. He reached for a strawberry, then brought it to her lips. “I waited because I love you. Even if it took years. Even if I had to watch you play happy with someone else.”

She looked down at his hand, her lips brushing against the berry as she bit into it. “That’s not fair to you.”

“It wasn’t fair to you either,” he replied. “You deserve more than cold dinners and empty promises.”

A silence stretched between them, and for a moment, all Egypt could hear was the buzz of the city below them. Her fingers found his again.

“Do you remember the night we first met?”

Joshua smiled. “How could I forget? You spilled wine on my brand-new sneakers.”

“You were so dramatic about it.”

“I was trying to impress you.”

“You did,” she admitted.

He looked at her, surprised. “I did?”

“You were real. You never played a part. You never tried to be what I wanted. You were just… you.”

“Still am,” he said gently. “Still yours. If you want me.”

Her breath hitched.

Egypt didn’t leave that day. Or the next. She canceled her flight home. Claimed she caught a cold and didn’t want to get Caleb sick. It was a flimsy lie, but it bought her more time.

And Joshua?

Joshua made good on his promise.

They didn’t leave the room. They ordered takeout, watched old matches, laughed like kids, made love like the world was ending.

The second night felt different than the first. Slower. More intentional. Like they were savoring the moments, knowing they might not get another one.

As Egypt lay on top of him, her hair spread across his chest, she whispered, “What happens when I go back?”

He was quiet.

“I mean it,” she said. “What happens when I walk back into that house and pretend like none of this happened?”

Joshua turned his head, eyes burning into hers. “You’ll pretend. Because that’s what you’ve been doing for two and a half years. But I won’t.”

She swallowed hard. “Josh…”

“I’ll wait again, if I have to. I’ll wait in silence. In shadows. But I won’t let go.”

“Even if I can’t choose you right away?”

He nodded. “Even if you never do. I had you for two days. And I’ll live on that if I have to. But I’m never letting go again, Egypt. Not in here.” He tapped his chest.

Her heart cracked open.

⸻

The Morning After WrestleMania Weekend, Egypt stood at the window, watching the sun rise. Her bags were packed. She was leaving this time. She had to.

Joshua came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You don’t have to say goodbye.”

“I do,” she whispered.

“But not forever,” he said.

She turned to face him. “Tell me this wasn’t a mistake.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Tell me you’ll still be there.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She pressed her forehead to his. “Then tell me one more time.”

“I love you.”

Egypt kissed him like she wanted to freeze time. When she finally pulled away, her voice trembled. “I love you too.”

⸻

When Egypt got back home, Caleb was already on the phone when she walked in. He barely glanced at her, offering a distracted, “Hey babe.”

Egypt stood in the doorway for a long moment, her heart heavy but her soul light.

He didn’t ask about the trip. Didn’t ask if she missed him. He just went on with his call, business as usual.

Egypt watched him, a strange calm settling over her.

Because now, she knew.

Even if she stayed a little longer, her heart wasn’t here anymore.

It was with Joshua.

And even if the world never knew…

She had finally found something real.

The roar of the crowd still echoed faintly in Joshua’s mind, days after WrestleMania 41. His body still ached from the toll of the match, and his championship title sat heavy in his duffle bag, but his thoughts… they weren’t on victory.

They were on her.

Egypt.

He replayed the weekend on an endless loop—the look in her eyes when she walked into his hotel room, the trembling way her hands had found his after she closed the door behind her, the way her mouth had whispered “I love you” between every desperate kiss. And the sound of her laughter the next morning, tangled beneath the sheets, unapologetically his for just a little while.

He was supposed to return to media rounds. WWE had rescheduled a major interview after he skipped the original one to spend another day with her. Selfish, maybe. But after waiting a couple months—years, if we’re truly being honest—to have her in his arms like that, he wasn’t giving up a single minute.

He remembered her sleepy voice that second morning, head resting on his chest as she muttered, “You’re not going to get in trouble for this?”

He had only smiled, brushing his fingers through her curls. “I’d miss a whole damn press tour if it meant keeping you here another night.”

Joshua knew it was temporary—hell, Egypt did too. But he didn’t care. He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t want more, didn’t want her permanently. But if secret moments were all he could have, he’d make every one of them count.

Still, life moved on.

By mid-week, he was back under the harsh studio lights, answering questions with his usual charm, smiling for cameras, and tossing the weight of the world title over his shoulder like he’d been carrying it his whole life.

But beneath it all, a countdown ticked in his head.

April 29th.

Her birthday.

He remembered once, three years ago, when she joked that no one ever really made a big deal out of her birthday. That she always played it down. That Caleb “wasn’t the type to go all out.” And Joshua remembered the way she had looked away when she said it. Like it didn’t bother her. But it did.

And this year, she deserved more. She had sacrificed her own anniversary to celebrate his win. She had risked everything to be with him, even if just for a weekend.

He wouldn’t let the day slip by.

He wouldn’t let her forget that someone in this world saw her.

⸻

The sun crept through Egypt’s bedroom blinds in slanted beams of orange and gold. Morning arrived slowly. She lay still, listening to Caleb’s usual routine—the rustling of his suit jacket, the creak of his closet door, the clink of his coffee mug on the kitchen counter. Same as always.

Predictable. Distant.

Her eyes drifted to the dresser where a small glass vase sat, holding five roses. A card leaned beside it. Hallmark. Printed words. His signature scribbled without a note.

She read it once and left it unopened after that.

No “I love you.”

No “Happy birthday, baby.”

Just… “– Caleb.”

She sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around her chest and blinking against the light. She didn’t cry. She wasn’t even angry. There was just that dull ache again—the one that never really left.

He left for work without a kiss, like always. Egypt stood at the window, arms crossed as she watched his car back out of the driveway. And then he was gone.

And she was… free.

Free to breathe. Free to feel. Free to smile without forcing it.

Her phone buzzed. She already knew who it was.

Lani: Happy Birthday, queen! Brunch at our spot in an hour. I’m not taking no for an answer.

Egypt smiled faintly, typing back.

Egypt: On my way. No Caleb today. Just me.

Lani: Even better.

⸻

Brunch was perfect. Lani always made her laugh. There were mimosas and French toast with strawberries, a little too much syrup, and stories loud enough to make the waitress raise a brow twice. They talked about old times, high school messiness, Lani’s new situationship, and the one-night stand Egypt pretended didn’t count in college.

“You’ve got that glow,” Lani said halfway through their second drink. “Don’t try to lie.”

“I do not.”

“You do. Don’t make me guess—”

“Lani.”

Lani leaned in. “You saw him again, didn’t you? Joshua?”

Egypt didn’t answer. But her smile gave her away.

“You’re in deep,” Lani whispered.

Egypt stirred her drink slowly. “He won the championship… and I couldn’t not be there. Caleb didn’t even care. And for once, I wanted to be selfish.”

“Was it everything you thought it’d be?”

“It was more.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know.”

Lani didn’t push. She didn’t have to. Egypt’s silence said it all.

⸻

That evening, Egypt returned home alone. Caleb was working late again, supposedly. She stepped out of her heels, peeled off her earrings, and started toward the kitchen to pour a glass of wine.

But when she turned the corner—

Her breath caught.

Candlelight flickered softly across the living room. Roses—dozens of them, red and white—lined the floor in a winding path. And there in the center of it all stood him.

Joshua.

Black t-shirt. Fitted jeans. A single rose in hand.

“Happy birthday,” he said, voice low.

Egypt froze.

“How… how did you—?”

“Lani might’ve helped.” He smirked. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” she breathed. “I’m… I don’t know what I am.”

He stepped toward her, pressing the rose into her hands. “You’re the birthday girl. And I told myself I wasn’t going to let today pass without showing you how much you mean to me.”

She looked around—candles, petals, a small table set for two in the corner.

“You did all this?”

He nodded. “You gave me a night I’ll never forget. I wanted to give you one too.”

Egypt swallowed hard, heart fluttering in her chest. “What about Caleb?”

“I didn’t ask about Caleb.”

That earned a laugh from her—soft, tired, but real.

“I made dinner,” he added, guiding her toward the table. “Well… I had it made. But I plated it, so that counts, right?”

She sat, hand still gripping the rose. “This is… incredible.”

He sat across from her, eyes never leaving hers. “You deserve it.”

Dinner melted into music and soft conversation. They ate slowly, savoring more than just the food. Every glance, every brush of fingers across the table, was layered with a history only they understood. They had years of friendship behind them. Years of “almosts” and “what ifs.”

Now they were here. And it was all real.

After the last bite, Egypt pushed her plate aside. “You’re going to ruin me.”

“Good.”

“Joshua…”

“I mean it.” He stood, walking to her side. “I meant every ‘I love you’ that night. I meant every kiss.”

She leaned back to look up at him. “It’s not that simple.”

He knelt in front of her, taking her hands. “I know. But I’m not asking for anything tonight. No promises. No plans. Just let me give you this.”

Her lips trembled. “I’m scared of what I feel for you.”

“I’m not.”

She closed her eyes as he kissed her knuckles. “You make me feel like I matter.”

“You do,” he whispered. “To me, you always have.”

And then he stood, pulling her gently to her feet.

“Dance with me.”

“There’s no music.”

“We don’t need any.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she leaned into him like she always did—like her body remembered what her mind tried to forget. And they moved slowly, swaying in the soft candlelight, her head against his chest.

“I wish this wasn’t temporary,” she murmured.

Joshua didn’t speak at first. But when he did, it was a vow only she could hear.

“Even if it’s a secret. Even if it’s wrong. I’ll never let you go again.”

And Egypt, with her eyes closed, heart aching and full all at once, knew she didn’t want him to.

Not anymore.

The lights were dimmed low in Egypt’s house, the faint glow of vanilla-scented candles flickering softly from the dresser and nightstand. Outside, the quiet hum of the late April night carried a spring warmth that seeped through the cracked window, brushing against the gauzy curtains like a whisper. Inside, the air was thick — not just with the scent of roses Caleb had barely acknowledged her with earlier, but with the presence of someone who had always been more than just a friend.

Joshua was seated at the foot of her bed, his broad shoulders hunched forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees. His eyes followed her as she moved around the room, her movements slow and deliberate — not teasing, not hesitant, just… sure. Sure in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. Her dress was still on, the silky black fabric hugging her frame in a way that made it hard for him to look away, and impossible to forget.

“I still can’t believe you showed up tonight,” she said softly, turning to face him with her arms crossed, not out of defensiveness, but to hold herself together. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

Joshua looked up at her, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Yeah, I did.”

She gave him a soft, almost embarrassed smile. “Why?”

His voice came out quieter than expected, but heavy with emotion. “Because you gave me your anniversary night. You should’ve been with him… but you chose me. I’m not about to let that go unnoticed. Egypt, I’ve wanted to be the man you come home to for years.”

Her breath caught, and she blinked — not out of surprise, but out of knowing. Deep down, she always knew Joshua felt something for her. She had seen it in the lingering stares, heard it in the warmth of his voice when they talked, felt it in the gentle way he touched her lower back when they hugged. And truth be told, she had longed for those moments far more than she had ever admitted — even to herself.

“You always loved me better than he did,” she whispered, finally saying the words that had been echoing in her head for months now.

“I still do,” Joshua replied. “Even if it’s wrong to everyone else… even if I’m not supposed to — I do.”

Egypt crossed the room slowly, stopping when she stood between his knees. Her hands reached for his face, thumbs brushing along the scruff lining his jaw. “Then be with me tonight,” she said. “Not just like before. Really be with me. In here.”

Joshua swallowed hard, eyes holding hers with that silent storm he always carried. “You sure?”

Her nod was small, but steady. “I’m tired of pretending. Tired of coming home to a man who doesn’t see me… who doesn’t even try to. Tired of fighting myself over you. This is what I want.”

His hands found her waist and guided her gently onto his lap. She settled against him with a soft exhale, her forehead resting against his. The world outside those four walls didn’t exist anymore. There was no Caleb. No WWE. No guilt. Just her and the man who had always looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Their lips met with the kind of hunger that came from years of holding back. The kiss was slow at first — tender and reverent — but it quickly deepened, igniting the fire they both knew too well. His hands moved up her back, hers tangled in his hair, and together they lost themselves in that moment. No questions. No apologies. Just truth in every touch.

Joshua lifted her gently and carried her to the bed. She felt weightless in his arms, and somehow, like she was finally home. He laid her down carefully, eyes never leaving hers, and when he joined her, it was like something in both of them clicked into place.

The air became charged between the two, the feelings the two had for each other has overflowed and they stared to pour it out into each other.

Jey’s hands trailed up her thighs as he kissed her, caressing her skin like it was the most precious thing he’s ever put his hands on, and to him she was.

His index finger rubbing her lips through her panties, feeling the wet spot that has been pooling since she first seen in her living room and without any warning, he pushed her panties to the side and slid his fingers inside.

The gasp that left her lips, gave him the advantage of pushing his tongue into her mouth to really taste her. Egypt was something he could have forever if she would let him.

His fingers twisted as he pushed them in and out of her, causing her to cry out and grip onto his shirt as she whispered his name out as a plea.

"Feel good baby?" Jey mutters, and Egypt could only answer with a moan, rocking her herself against his fingers.

Jey pulls back just a bit to watch her, Egypt’s curly hair sprawled out on the sheets, sweat forming on her forehead as she kept her eyes on him, but they weren’t focused. No, she was losing herself in the pleasure that he was bringing her just through his fingers.

“Josh, please.” She begs, and a small smirk forms on his face because he knows he’s the only person who gets to see her like this.

"Damn ‘Gypt," He mumbled, eyes trailing over her face before locking with her low glossy eyes. A smirk spread across his face as he twisted his fingers again, "You getting close baby?"

She nodded her head eagerly, moaning out softly as her stomach tightened up. "So close," She whimpered, keeping her eyes on his as she continued riding his fingers, matching his pace. "Ooo-baby."

He wrapped his right hand around her throat and gently squeezed as he sped up the pace of his fingers, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. "Ride my fingers till you cum baby, get yo nut."

She responded by rocking her hips faster to match the pace of his fingers moaning louder as she felt her orgasm slowly sneaking up on her. The pleasure was felt throughout her body and he could tell she was right at the edge as he curled his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pushing her right where she needed to go, watching her downfall.

"Ohmyg—Josh." She panted as her eyes rolled back, her back arching of the bed, releasing all over his fingers. She slid her arms around his neck and held him closely, letting the pleasure subside on its own. "Shit."

And Josh couldn’t stop the possessiveness that took over in the moment. Egypt had told him she was tired of pretending and so was he, so he was going to take advantage of the situation to the fullest.

"Turn around for me pretty girl." Josh muttered out to her, and he only stepped back to undress himself and Egypt wanted to do what he told her but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from him.

Tribal tattoos on his caramel glazed skin that looked so pretty in the moonlight. Egypt didn’t even notice that Joshua was fully undressed, not until he walked back to the bed.

He didn’t even give her a chance, he just turned her around and flipped her onto her stomach. She automatically assumed the position and Josh bit his lip at his at her deep arch and shook his head, rubbing his top against her clit. She was so fine and seeing her like this made made him brick hard. "Finna give you something to really celebrate."

Her clit throbbed from his words and she gripped the sheets to prepare for his insertion. But nothing could've prepared her for what was next as curse words left her mouth as he entered her slowly, completely stretching her out and filling her up.

"Oh my fucking God-" She gasped breaking her arch a little but he quickly pushed her back down, holding her in place as he thrusted slowly until she relaxed and let him all the way in.

"There you go, let me in." He cooed

Egypt’s moaned filled the air as her he began speeding up, pushing every inch into her as he started to blow her back out. He watched as she moved up slightly every time he pushed all the way inside of her, chuckling. He moved his hands back to her waist and pulled her closer to him fucking her harder.

“You leaving him for good baby?” He asked, eyes focused on where they entangled together.

Her cream looked delicious on his dick as he pushed it back on her. “It’s gon be me and you from now on right?” He questions but she could barely hear him over her moaning and the sounds of their skin clapping together.

Egypt's moaned filled the air as her he began speeding up, pushing every inch into her as he started to blow her back out. He watched as she moved up slightly every time he pushed all the way inside of her, chuckling. He moved his hands back to her waist and pulled her closer to him fucking her harder.

"What you say?"

Egypt cried out and gripped the sheets so hard it came off the bed. He pushed his thumbs into her back dimples and slowed down his pace, pushing deeper.

She buried her face into the bed and screamed.

"Huh I can't hear you?" He asked, leaning forward to see her face as he continued fucking her, slapping her ass. "You done with him baby?"

“YesYesYes baby, m’done with him, I promise.” Egypt cries out, her hand reaching out to push back at his stomach and the only thing Josh did was grab her hand and intertwined their fingers together.

What happened between them next wasn’t just sex — it was the culmination of all the nights they couldn’t, all the times they’d said goodbye when they didn’t want to. He worshipped her like he had been waiting his entire life for this night. And she loved him back with the kind of vulnerability that came from finally choosing the thing she was most afraid of losing.

“I love you,” she breathed out as he poked her spot, her walls squeezing against him to warn him that she was close.

Joshua paused, eyes meeting hers again. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

He kissed her again, slowing his pace this time. “I swear to God, Egypt… nobody is taking you from me again. I don’t care if I have to fight him tooth and nail.”

Her eyes filled, but she didn’t cry. She smiled instead, one hand clutching the sheets in euphoria. “You won’t have to.” She breathed out before letting out a quiet moan.

“I know baby, let go for me. I gotchu.”

And Egypt’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she cried out Josh’s name as she came all over him.

And Joshua didn’t stop, kept pushing into her until he felt himself twitch and he released himself inside of her.

“I love you.” Josh whispered back to reciprocate her declaration of love.

“And I’m serious, I want you Josh.”

And she meant it.

They fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms, the sheets warm around them, the scent of sex and satisfaction lingering in the air. The morning sun crept in through the curtains, but neither stirred. Not right away.

When Egypt finally opened her eyes, the guilt didn’t rush in like it used to. Instead, it was clarity. A quiet knowing. She turned her head and found Joshua already awake, watching her.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she smiled sleepily.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “More than okay.”

They laid in silence for a few minutes, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

“I should feel bad,” she whispered, “but I don’t. I thought I would… but I don’t.”

Joshua brushed his fingers down her spine. “You gave too much of yourself to someone who stopped appreciating it. You’re not wrong for wanting more.”

She swallowed. “I think I’m ready to stop hiding.”

He looked at her carefully. “Even if it means losing everything else?”

Egypt turned fully toward him now, brushing her knuckles along his jaw. “What I had with Caleb wasn’t real anymore. What we have… is. That’s worth the risk.”

Joshua didn’t speak right away. He just pulled her closer, kissed her deeply, and let that promise linger in the air between them.

Later that morning, after another slow round of kisses and whispered laughter, Egypt finally got out of bed and padded softly to the bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror for a long moment, brushing her fingers through her hair, taking in the faint blush in her cheeks and the contentment in her eyes.

This was her truth now.

She stepped back into the bedroom to find Joshua scrolling through his phone, bare-chested and comfortable like he belonged there — because he did.

“I gotta head out in a bit,” he said, voice thick with reluctance. “They want me to redo the interview I canceled.”

Egypt leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You gonna talk about the title?”

Joshua smirked. “I’ll talk about the win. But I’ll be thinking about this.”

Her lips quirked. “Smooth.”

“I’m serious. WrestleMania was huge, but you showing up at my hotel room that night… that was everything.”

She walked over and kissed his forehead. “Go be a star. I’ll be here.”

As he left, Egypt stood by the door for a long while, her fingers resting lightly over her lips, heart already aching for him. But this ache… it wasn’t the same empty kind she felt every day with Caleb. This ache was full of love. Full of hope.

She didn’t know how everything was going to unfold, didn’t know how long they could keep this quiet — or if they even should — but one thing was certain.

Joshua wasn’t just a friend anymore. He was hers. And she was his.

Finally.

Omg this story actually whooped my ass😭 I hope you guys like this.

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carriesthewind · 1 day ago

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We're back! When we last left off, we had just finished reviewing the exhibit containing emails from DeMaster to Clownshoes containing various drafts of the motion on February 24.

Next, DeMaster tells us that they continued to review and make changes on the 25 and eventually Clownshoes said he would try to file the final version. The only reason she filed it instead was because he was having difficulty accessing the court's e-file system.

Interestingly, this means Clownshoes must have received a copy of the "correct version"/"final version" that he says he "closely reviewed." (for reference, this would allegedly be Version B: “2025.02.24 Coomer Defs Opp to MIL2 (jd) – copy”) However, despite attaching several emails and screenshots of metadata, he did not attach either an email containing a copy of that file that he received, nor any metadata showing that it was ever saved to his system.

Anyway, then Clownshoes spends another two and a half pages whining about how unfairly the judge treated him at the hearing.

"Your honor, the reason I didn't prepare for the things you wanted to talk about was because your order was confusing :(" Angry judges love to be told that their orders weren't clear enough.*

(*No joke, I once saw a judge pause mid-hearing to have her clerk pull up a copy of her order and read it out loud, "just to make sure it wasn't written in Klingon or some other language that was incomprehensible to the Defendant")

(Put another pin in his claim that he "review[ed] the Opposition that I thought had been filed".)

*cringe* Dear god.

Look - I don't want to be completely unfair to Clownshoes here. The Show Cause Order makes it very clear that the judge is *pissed* about his conduct at the hearing. He has to address it to some extent. But instead of providing a brief explanation* and apologizing, he's sitting here and lecturing the judge about how mean she is. If you are a sports person, I would analogize this to a player getting a yellow card and proceeding to argue themselves into a red card by telling the referee that they are applying the rules wrong.

*Compare, for example, the above with: "At the hearing, I stated that I was unprepared and did not clearly explain how I had used AI to assist me in an initial draft, and how Ms. DeMaster and I had proceeded to check the citations and remove any that did not seem reliable. I did not explain myself properly because I was expecting an informal discussion, based on my experience in Virginia courts, and was flustered by what appeared to me to be a formal oral argument."

Jaw-dropping. You were "obviously prepared" to discuss the substance of a motion that you didn't have a copy of?

And - this is where we come back to all those pins about how he had reviewed the final draft of the motion and "meticulously labored" over revisions, going through "every page."

The idea that he had done that work, both to prepare for the hearing and in drafting the motion, and somehow didn't immediately realize, 'oh shoot your honor, you're reading from an earlier draft of the motion, I remember going through and removing a bunch of the citations you are reading to me'?!

Bullshit. This looks so much worse than just apologizing and letting it be. You were unprepared! You fucked up at the hearing! It happens! You aren't facing sanctions for messing up the hearing, you're facing sanctions for your bogus citations - but it sure feels like you are talking yourself into sanctions for lying to the court.

Anyway. He spends another third of a page continuing to lecture the judge about her word choice and how she failed to provide sufficient notice that he, a humble trial attorney, would have to argue a motion in a pretrial conference.

I mean, you didn't have a copy of any versions of the document (and if you had, it might have cleared things up! You could have show her the proper, corrected version you thought had been filed! How unfortunate that it just happened that you didn't think to bring a copy of a filing that you swear that you reviewed before the hearing and were prepared to discuss. (And that for some reason, despite spending a page detailing the differences in pretrial conference formalities between Virginia and Colorado, you have failed to mention why you didn't think to bring a printed copy.)

Also, again - what? The Court provided you with a copy of what was filed, and you didn't immediately go, "oh shit, this contains huge chunks (a quarter of the page count!) of stuff we deleted! Yes, I am surprised to see this citation in our document, because I remember checking and removing it!"

Again, if the "wrong draft" story is true, it would be so much better to just say, "I panicked in the courtroom and didn't give you a straight answer then - I'm sorry." This just makes him sound like a petulant liar.

Speaking of which...

Compare this quote from DeMaster that we reviewed above:

And there we have it. At least one of you is lying.

And Clownshoes filed both these declarations! Did he not read DeMaster's declaration before he filed it?!?

But just for fun, let's continue with some more incredible sentences from Clownshoes's declaration:

"The Court can't sanction me because I have done nothing wrong, ever, in my life."

"I wanted so much to answer the Court but it was just impossible! And you're being so mean to me about it!"

"Yes I didn't say that I had used "AI" until the Court asked, but the way you phrased it makes me sound bad. :( I just didn't mention it because "AI," much like me, is perfect and couldn't have possibly done something wrong."

"You know how women are - they just talk and talk and talk and get angry about the silliest little things. At some point you just have to start nodding along while ignoring them so you can go back to doing the real work they just don't understand."

...so you're admitting you are the one who is lying?

"The fact that I look like a lying clown is the Court's fault, for not telling me in very small and specific words in advance that I am expected to know what is filed with my name on it :("

Cutting out several more paragraphs of the above whining about mean the court is, we finally get to:

Yeah...I'm not buying that "sincerely," my good clown.

In our next installment, we'll get back to actually trying to track the various motion drafts!

Oh you idiots.

#ai bs #Sir Clownshoes and the Mysterious Case of the Mixed-Up Motions

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wannabe-fic-writer · 2 days ago

Text

Be Mine - Chapter 5

Summary: Natasha sees a different side of you, and it makes her surer of her feelings.

Warnings: Minor Language

* * * * * * *

The streets are bustling with shoppers and tourists and people milling about. Chatter fills the air, occasionally accompanied by the poppy or jazzy songs spilling from the stores lining the block.

As she looks around and hums lowly to herself, fingers laced with yours, Natasha listens to your end of a phone conversation.

Earlier this morning, the two of you woke up around the same time and decided to go on a run together followed by a workout at the gym. While together you explained to Natasha that you had a charity gala to attend later in the evening, and you wanted her to come with you as your date.

When you first asked, she jokingly followed up with “am I your only date for the night or do you have a friend that’s going to join us?”

Despite it being a joke, you apologized profusely. In fact, you spent most of the weekend apologizing for that idiot decision of yours. Sure, the night went well, and Natasha and Wanda got along great, the three of you even making plans to hangout again sometime. But when you got home, Natasha called you out for inviting another woman to join you on a date and you realized that you were indeed in the wrong for doing so.

Natasha told you it was okay a few times, but you still worked to show her you were sorry. She had to make it abundantly clear the other night that she was not upset and that you could stop making it up to her.

Now though, the two of you are dress shopping. When you explained the event to her, Natasha immediately informed you that she didn’t have a gown for such a thing and you told her you absolutely don't mind buying her one.

She was used to having people spend money on her in her past, she outright hated it. It was simply a way they felt they could own her. They decked her out in lavish gowns and dresses, complimented it with jewelry that was four times as much as her rent, and tugged her arm around theirs and show her off as if she were a possession.

She hates comparing you to the men in her past, hates that your money and position puts you on the same level as them. She knows you’re different, knows you wouldn’t treat her the way others have because she’s been with you. Almost every day for the past three months or so she’s experienced you treating her like an absolute queen.

“You want to check in here?” Your voice pulls Natasha from her thoughts, and she snaps her gaze to you, eyebrows raised in question. Chuckling softly, your head nods to the store behind her.“ Would you like to look in here? Looks like they might have something you’d find more your style.”

Looking over her shoulder to the dress shop, she allows her eyes to roam over the dresses visible through the windows and she, admittedly, likes a few that she sees.

“Okay, we can check.” She gently tugs your hand as she heads towards the door, taking notice of the way you tilt your head in curiosity while following along.

In truth, even though she found a dress, it was nothing exciting. She perused the racks of dresses, you took the ones she said she liked, she tried them on, and after cycling through a few she found the one she liked most.

You swiped your card effortlessly, slung the garment bag over your shoulder, and slipped your hand back into hers.

Natasha declined your offers of jewelry and shoes, assuring you she had her own that would be good enough and you didn’t press her on it.

The two of you had a light lunch together, regular conversation mixing with questions of what to expect at the gala before you had to go your separate ways: you to the office to handle some business before the gala and Natasha home to tend to a few household chores.

* * *

“Damn,” is the first word Natasha mutters when you guide her into the gala.

Crystal chandeliers, champagne towers, top shelf whiskey, and the distantly familiar laughs of pompous rich people fill the place.

“I know it’s a lot; there’s a reason I only attend these things, when necessary,” you speak lowly, thumb running over the back of her hand.

Her eyebrow quirks up when she looks at you.“ You’re not a fan of going to super fancy parties where the liquor costs more than some people make in a week?”

“No,” a playful grin forms on your face when you return her gaze,“ my idea of a good time is far from this.”

She chuckles at that.“ Now I’m dying to know what your idea of a good time is.”

Stopping just short of entering the main area you smirk a little.“ Let’s get through tonight and next weekend we’ll have a good time my way, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” She pops up to plant a kiss on your cheek, which seems to attract the attention of an all too familiar man.

“Well well well,” the deep voice causes you to freeze, and Natasha feels it, a frown briefly crossing her features as she looks at you.

Your jaw is clenched tight, nostrils flared a bit as you stare ahead, stone faced.

“Didn’t know they were letting riff raff like you in.” The tall bald man says, the smile on his face portraying teasing but the look in his eye saying something else entirely.

Natasha takes immediate offense and the way your eyebrow twitches lets her know you didn’t quite like it either but, instead of calling him out on it, Natasha watches as you stick your hand and force a smile.

“Obadiah, wasn’t sure I’d be seeing you tonight.” Your voice is the perfect example of professionalism.

The man firmly shakes your hand, paying no mind to the woman on your arm.“ I happen to be a big supporter of this charity, it’s only right that I attend the event.”

“Of course,” your smile shifts to a simple quirk of the corner of your lips, hand slightly squeezing Natasha’s, making the woman frown again.

She’s yet to say anything because she’s sure the first thing on her mind would turn this conversation sour. Or rather, more sour.

“Yes, I’m all about keeping our youth safe,” he continues unprompted,“ off the streets. Lord knows the kind of trouble they’d get wrapped up in.” The pointed look he gives you speaks volumes, in fact, it SCREAMS that he knows something that you clearly don’t want him to know.

Your eye twitches again, jaw tightening.

“It’s very noble of you to support this cause, I’m sure everyone appreciates your efforts to keep our city safer, especially for the kids.” Natasha’s voice floats through the air and cuts the tension clean through, the look in her eyes enough to disarm anyone you’re sure.

The bald man only then registers that the redhead is even there, narrowed eyes taking her in before he beams.“ Why thank you. And you’ll have to forgive my manners, I didn’t introduce myself,” he holds his hand out, palm up,“ Obadiah Stane, Commissioner of our great city.”

Almost instantly, Natasha understands why there’s so much tension. Of course, a well-established crime lord would be wary around the police commissioner.

“Lovely to meet you, I’m Natasha.” She delicately slips her hand into his, face neutral as he kisses the back of it.“ Now I hope you don’t mind but I’m dying for a glass of champagne.”

He waves it off with another charming smile, then levels you with a look.“ I’ll be seeing you Miss Y/ln.”

“And I you, Commissioner.”

With a hand on the small of Natasha’s back and her arm around your waist, you b-line for the bar, the tension in your shoulders remaining until your free hand smooths across the bartop. Heaving a sigh, you flag down a bartender.“ Whiskey, neat. And a vodka martini.” The rather young looking man nods and gets to making the drinks.“ I know you said champagne but you’ll thank me for putting something stronger in your system later.”

“I trust you,” Natasha finds herself remarking with ease, one hand slipping up the front of your jacket to fix your lapel.“ That was tense.”

You huff.“ It always is with Obadiah. He’s been gunning for my family since my father started the business. Back then he wasn’t commissioner yet, just some overzealous officer.”

“Oh, so, bad guy?” Natasha’s tone is a little teasing, eyes glinting playfully as she gazes at you. She knows the information is rather serious, but after seeing you so tense she thought you’d break your own jaw, she’s aiming to lighten your mood a bit.

It works, if the little smirk you pull is any evidence.“ Well, legally, I’m the bad guy.” Your tone is also playful when you respond, smirk growing.

Your gazes break when the bartender sets your drinks down, both of you taking sips and then looking out over the crowd nearly in sync. Upon seeing many smiling faces and finally registering the music that flows through the space, you sigh, turning back to Natasha.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend for that to be your first impression of tonight. I promise not everyone is like Obadiah,” you tell her with sincerity in your eyes,“ let me show you that not everyone here is a stuck rich asshole-”

“Well look who showed up!”

The voice that interrupts your conversation makes you roll your eyes, the woman in front of you raising her eyebrows in a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Unfortunately, this one is very much a stuck up rich asshole.” Despite the straight face you pull, your words are spoken in a playful way, mirth in your eyes.

As soon as he stops beside you, Natasha recognizes the man, surprise flashing over her face.

He smirks, extending his arm up to rest on your shoulder, which makes the height difference all the more apparent.“ I hope you aren’t lying to this beautiful woman, Y/n.”

“Oh quite the contrary, Stark.” You beam at him, tilting to the side a little to make his arm slip from your body.

Glaring at you briefly, he lightly elbows your arm then gives his attention to Natasha.“ Tony. Stark.” He introduces himself while sticking his hand out.

Natasha shakes it,“ I know who you are. Hard to not know who the mayor’s son is.” She then introduces herself, surprising you a bit when she adds that she’s your date. She doesn’t miss the way you smile about it, the first full genuine smile she’s seen from you since stepping in the place.

Over the next few minutes, you and Natasha talk with Tony. Natasha enjoys seeing the back and forth banter between you and Tony, the platonic chemistry you both have. It’s not until further in the conversation that it’s revealed that you and Tony went to college together, which connects a lot of dots.

At one point while talking a blonde woman joins the conversation, Tony’s arm slipping around her waist as he happily introduces her to Natasha as Pepper Potts, his fiance. Much like Tony teased you about managing to pull a woman as beautiful as Natasha, you tease him about finally convincing Pepper to stick around.

The enjoyable conversation comes to an end when the dinner portion of the night starts. You guide Natasha to your table and she watches as a pleasant smile crosses your features at the two people already seated.

The man notices you first, his blue eyes shining even brighter as he watches you pull Natasha's chair out. Before you can even properly turn, he’s popped up and wrapped you in a tight embrace, not caring about the wrinkles that appear on your tailored suit or his.

A low groan sounds from you but you still smile, eyes happy as you pat his back.“ Good to see you too, Thor.”

“Friend, it’s been far too long,” he says after releasing you, clapping a heavy hand on your shoulder.“ How are things?”

You grip his upper arm in the same firm but friendly way his hand rests on your shoulder.“ Things have been good, great even.”

“And I imagine it has a lot to do with this beautiful new friend of yours.” Another slick and charming voice chimes in, all eyes shifting to the person sitting in the seat beside Thor’s.

The woman is beautiful, all strong jaw, high cheek bones and full lips. Her hair is braided like a crown around her head, a pinstripe black three piece on her with rings adorning each finger.

Natasha doesn’t know what, but something tells her that these people aren’t a part of the legal side of your life. She can’t be sure though.

“Val,” you cross over to give her a one armed hug that she returns,“ you hit the nail on the head with that one. Though Natasha is much more than a friend.”

The redhead struggles not to beam at that, but Val has no problem smirking almost proudly.“ I got the sense of that when I saw you two at the bar. I don’t look at my friends the way you’ve been looking at her.”

Being called out makes you chuckle flustered, ducking your head a bit. It’s cute, Natasha thinks.

After Natasha is formally introduced to Thor and Valkyrie, the three of you take your seats.

Harmless conversation is had throughout dinner, you catching up with the two while Natasha gets to know them, only stopping when the founder of the charity and a few donors go up to speak about the cause and encourage others to donate.

The food is delicious and you both indulge in a glass of champagne. Natasha going for another while you dial it back given your role here.

It’s only after dinner that things get a little fun. A woman and a band take the stage, music quickly filling the space as some people step onto the dance floor. You mingle as you make your way through the crowd with Natasha on your arm.

Even when speaking with important businessmen, you never make Natasha feel like she’s not a part of everything. You happily introduce her to the people you speak to; you don’t get upset when she offers her own input and comments into the conversation. In fact, she catches the proud smile you pull when she does chime in from time to time.

You eventually make your way to the dance floor. Pulling her in with a flourish, you slip a hand around her waist and hold her hand with the other. Natasha lays her free hand on your shoulder, deliberately lacing her fingers with yours as she presses a little closer.

“I wasn’t expecting to have fun tonight,” the redhead admits, eyes focused on the way her fingers play with your collar,“ but as always, you surprised me.”

That makes your eyebrows raise, gaze dropping to her.“ I certainly hope it’s only been good surprises.”

“Wonderful surprises,” she breathes out softly. Finally meeting your gaze she adds,“ I’ve never met anyone like you. And I know, that’s corny as hell right,” she smiles a little,“ but I mean it. You’re… real, in a way I was unprepared for. It’s like you want real things. Not the money and power you get from your position. It’s like you want a life worth living.”

A chuckle falls from you.“ Not like.. that is what I want. I told you I wanted to get to know you, now that I have, I simply want you. Or maybe it isn’t simple, I don’t know. But I want something real with you, Natasha Romanoff.”

The light that sparkles through her eyes makes your lips tick up in a smile.

“Oh? You want something real with me, Y/ln?” Her hand shifts from your collar to your jaw, fingers ticking ever so gently across your skin.

It’s a shock that no one has interrupted you yet, but you’re not complaining that they haven’t because you’ve been dying to ask Natasha this for weeks now.

You nod.“ Be mine?” Her head tilts at that, her expression practically saying ‘you can do better’ which you can.“ Natasha, will you be my girlfriend? My something real?”

Green eyes search yours, bright and intense, desperate for you to really mean this because she’s gotten a glimpse of what it’s like to be yours and she wants… needs the real thing.

“If you turn out to be some rich asshole or-”

“I’m only me,” you shake your head, hand rising to cup her cheek,“ only me wanting you for as long as you’ll have me.”

She beams, a smile so bright it out shines the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.“ I will gladly be yours, Y/n.”

“Gladly?”

“Happily, eagerly, cheerfully, without the slightest hesitance,” she emphasizes.“ I’m yours, as long as you’re mine.”

#mcu #mcu x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #be mine

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arcane-vagabond · 22 hours ago

Text

Stranger Like Me: Chapter Three

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Content Warnings: Language, Suggestive thoughts, Suggestive commentary, Frank being crass, Jack and Boots in their feelings, Jack's horny thoughts, caressing of female body parts. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2.75k

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Writing Info || Blog Rules

You had settled into an easy routine over the past two weeks, the first trying to iron out the different kinks. Dr. Robby had determined that your ankle would take around four weeks to heal if you kept off of it, and as it turned out, Jack was more than happy to assist. You could think of only a handful of times that you had been on your feet, the wild man appearing first thing in the morning to carry you around camp.

Of course, the others had given you endless shit about it, Frank being the loudest. The second morning after your accident, Jack had waited for you outside your tent as you changed, his deep, brown eyes surveying the jungle stoically. He had wordlessly scooped you up in his arms as you hobbled towards the entrance, carrying you effortlessly to where the others were already gathered for breakfast. Victoria had raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Whitaker was too busy going over something with Robby to pay you much mind, the same to be said for the others and their own research. Frank had walked over from his tent at the same time and let out a loud snort at the sight of you.

“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” He had snickered, gesturing to where you clung to Jack. “Is he a taxi service now?”

“I’ve already tried explaining to him that I don’t need him to carry me everywhere,” you scowled at the botanist. Jack placed you gently on the bench before plopping down right next to you, Frank taking up the space on your other side. “He’s just insistent upon doing it, is all.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” he drawled as Mel placed a plate of eggs in front of you, “I’d think you like him carrying you around everywhere.”

You cast him a sideways glance as you shoveled a fork full of egg into your mouth, brow pinched together in indignation.

“I don’t.”

“Sure,” Frank hummed, giving you a knowing look before bumping your shoulder with his. “And jungle man over there also doesn’t get a hard on every time he looks at you.”

“Frank!” You exclaimed, cheeks warming as Trinity cackled and Dana cleared her throat, her own cheeks growing a nice shade of pink at the turn in the conversation along with Victoria and Mel’s. Whitaker and Robby looked over at the two of you, matching shocked expressions on their faces.

“Don’t be crass,” you hissed at the man, swatting at his arm. He rolled his eyes, accepting the plate Mel handed him with a quiet thanks.

“Is it really being crass if I’m telling the truth?”

“Yes,” you snapped, cognizant of the fact Jack had been inching closer to you as each moment passed. Frank rolled his eyes at you, but said nothing more.

The next couple of days had you struggling to figure out how to do various chores around the camp. Cooking was easy enough until you needed to get up and grab something.

The first time you had stood up, Jack’s head had shot up from where he was flipping through one of the sketchbooks Robby had laying about. His honey-colored eyes watched you intently as a frown tugged on his lips, standing when you made to move.

“No,” he said, pushing down on your shoulders gently.

“Jack, I have to-”

“No,” he said again, more firmly this time, eyes intense and brows pinched. “Hurt.”

“I’m not so hurt that I can’t walk the three feet to grab a spoon,” you scowled at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, turning and walking the few, short steps across the eating area to pluck a spoon out of the container and bringing it to you. You accepted it with a huff, not missing the satisfied smirk that appeared on his face at the small victory.

Laundry was done down by the river, an ever watchful Jack sitting on one of the stones beside you as you scrubbed the various articles of clothing. He watched you carefully, an unreadable expression on his face as you worked through your task.

After the first half hour, you began to grow increasingly self conscious once you realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for more than a couple of seconds at a time the entire time you two had sat there.

“Aren’t you bored?” You asked him, wrinkling your nose. “I mean, it can’t be fun to just sit here and watch me do all this. Wouldn’t you prefer to help Dana or Robby or someone else? I’m sure they’re having much more fun than we are.”

Jack’s gaze hardened in confusion. Shaking his head, he shifted slightly, leaning closer towards you.

“Like being with you,” he murmured, the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. The heat on your cheeks had nothing to do with the sweltering jungle heat, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending to inspect a stain on one of Whitaker’s shirts. Your eyes darted up when Jack crept towards you, and for a moment, you were reminded that this man was raised by apes, not humans. His leg stretched out to rest beside you, the rest of him slinking after until he crouched right in front of you, his nose almost brushing yours. Your eyes wandered down the length of one of his legs, taking in the sight of the various nasty looking scars scattered on his right leg in particular.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as he reached a hand up to brush his fingers across your cheek. His eyes darted down, lingering on your lips as they parted. A shiver ran up your spine as his fingers trailed down, running over your bottom lip, and the intense look in his eye became hungry as you let out a quiet gasp. He let his fingers linger for a second before pulling them away and towards a strand of hair that hung in your face. Slowly, he pushed it back behind your ear, letting his palm cradle your jaw as the two of you sat silently watching each other.

The sound of jungle leaves rustling broke the two of you out of your trance, and Jack let out a growl as he positioned himself in front of you, glaring intensely at the spot where the noise was coming from.

“Hey, you two!” Robby called, coming into view with a smile. Jack immediately relaxed back into his spot beside you, but the frown remained. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was annoyed. You cleared your throat, your head still clouded from the intensity of the prior moment.

“Hey, Robby,” you greeted, attempting a smile that you were sure came out as more of a grimace. “What brings you by?”

“Oh nothing,” he grinned. “Just wanted to see if you needed any help with the laundry. It’s very kind of you to offer to do it while you heal up. I know it’s not the greatest chore.”

“I want to feel useful,” you offered, shrugging.

“Well, nevertheless, it’s appreciated,” Robby smiled. “Do you need any help carrying everything back?”

“No,” Jack snapped, leveling Robby with a glare. The researcher looked a little taken aback by the ferocity of Jack’s answer, but recovered quickly, shooting you a brief, knowing look.

“I see,” he hummed, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “Well, if the two of you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the camp. Once he was out of sight, Jack huffed, turning back to look at you.

“What’s got you so grumpy?” you asked him, chuckling slightly. Jack didn’t answer, instead, reaching out to twirl a strand of your hair in between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose and taking a long, deep inhale before giving you another heavy look. Your cheeks heated up once more before you ducked your head down to start the process of scrubbing the laundry once again. You tried not to think about how Jack’s muscles had bulged when he was crouched in front of you or how his intense look made your thighs clench together.

You were sitting in one of the research tents a week later, transcribing some notes for Dr. Robby the following week, having begged the older man for ways to be of use given you were slowly losing your mind doing all of the mundane chores. Jack was perched in a chair next to you, flipping through the rough sketches Whitaker had made of some of the baboons and wrinkling his nose.

“What’s that face for?” You giggled, glancing over at him. Jack huffed and shook his head, giving you a solemn look.

“Baboons are annoying.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you looked at him fully. Jack’s gaze softened as he listened to you laugh, a tinge of pink coating his cheeks.

“Yeah?” You asked him. “How so?”

Jack straightened up in his seat, rolling his eyes as he thought back to the countless run-ins he’s had with the creatures.

“They scream a lot,” he scowled, lips pursed as he gives you a serious look. “And they steal my food sometimes. It’s hard to catch them because they climb the trees so fast.”

You had quickly grown used to how articulate Jack actually was over the course of the last week and a half. You supposed it was no surprise considering he’d had twenty years of practice, but even Robby had seemed surprised when he walked in on Jack telling you a story one day, the wild man animatedly telling you a story about a trick he played on one of the younger members of the gorilla troop he lived with. Now you wondered if the older researchers even knew if Jack could string together more than a couple of short sentences.

His sentences could still be choppy at times and his answers short and direct, sure, but the more you showed interest in what he had to say, the more he found himself opening up and saying more. Jack found that he liked the way you reacted to what he had to say, and he tried to practice at night once he knew you were asleep. He found himself visiting with Dana and Robby more, asking them questions about different words for different feelings and ideas. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted you to know him, to know what he thought about things and how he felt about the world. Maybe it was because he wanted to know those things about you too and to talk about them with you.

“They are pretty fast, huh?” You asked, leaning forward a little more, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and exaggerating your cleavage. Jack’s eyes flickered down, and he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He found that this feeling also happened quite frequently around you, and it was often the simplest of things that set it off. It happened when he watched you bend over and dry your hair after a bath one day. It happened when you stretched after sitting hunched over too long, your back arching as you raised your arms over your head. It happened sometimes when you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip captured between your teeth.

He shifted in his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from your chest. He felt an overwhelming need to touch them, to touch you. He often found himself thinking of you. How good you smelled. How soft you were. He wanted to touch you, to mark you as his.

The troop leader, Mutubo Robby had named him, had several offspring, so Jack wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of mating, or sex as Robby and Dana called it. However, he wasn’t so sure that his family experienced what he was feeling, at least to this extent. Without thinking, Jack reached out, running his fingertips over the exposed area, his shorts growing tighter as he felt the soft, warm skin.

You sucked in a breath, your cheeks heating and eyes going wide as Jack caressed you. His gaze was intense as he touched you, and you felt a shiver run up your spine when his brown eyes darted up to meet your own. The brown was practically swallowed by black, and you had to muster all of your self control to not throw yourself at him then and there.

“I should, um,” you stuttered after a second, “I should go see if Dana has started dinner yet.”

You stood abruptly, Jack following suit. He moved to pick you up, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“No, I,” you sucked in a breath, “it’s not that far. I think I’ll try walking there.”

Jack frowned at you, but before he could argue, you beelined out of the tent and into the open air. It was unprofessional to be acting this way, especially with someone who didn’t understand the intricacies of human relationships.

The end of the week brought movie night, and you were giddy when you remembered that it was your turn to pick. Frank and Trinity groaned loudly when they saw your choice. You ignored them, taking a seat on one of the couches Dana and Robby had managed to snag while in the city not too terribly long ago. Jack immediately sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, filling you with an odd sense of comfort.

“What are we watching?” Mel asked as he entered the tent.

“The Princess Bride,” you grinned as Frank plopped down on your other side.

“You couldn’t have picked anything with explosions?” He asked, wrinkling his nose at you in mock disgust. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly.

“The Princess Bride is a classic,” you argued. “Don’t be such a guy.”

“I think the Princess Bride is great,” Mel offered, earning dual eye rolls from both Trinity and Frank.

“You would,” Frank threw back at the bespectacled woman with a grin.

“Explosions and gun fights does not a movie make,” Victoria scowled. “It’s good to mix it up every now and then.”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “I had to sit through so many hours of Fast and Furious of all things. The least you can do is sit quietly through my movie.”

“Hey, do not knock the Fast and the Furious,” Whitaker warned, raising his pointer finger at you with a serious look. You rolled your eyes once more but let out a giggle.

“I’ll stop knocking the Fast and the Furious when the movies start being good,” you grinned.

“So, never,” Victoria snorted, earning scowls from the others. Before the argument could continue, both Dana and Robby strolled into the tent.

“Oh, The Princess Bride,” Dana grinned, plopping down onto the other couch, Robby not too far behind. “One of my favorites!”

Once everyone was settled, you started the movie, absentmindedly curling into Jack’s side more and more as the minutes stretched on. Jack’s fingers came up to play with the strands of your hair, unknowingly lulling you into a deep sleep.

Jack knew the second you fell asleep, and he smiled softly as he listened to your breathing even out as you relaxed against him. He liked this. He liked how safe you felt with him and how at ease you made him feel. Jack was somewhat paying attention to scenes in front of him, lost in thought as he tried to understand what was going on. There was one thing that stood out to him, though. A word, actually. He had heard Dana and Robby say it to each other on rare occasions, but Jack had never given it much thought before he met you. But, when he saw the two characters on the screen look at each other and say that word, he felt that it might be important. That maybe he should ask them what it meant. You stirred against him, and Jack felt an ache in his chest as he looked down at your sleeping form. His curiosity could wait for now, he thought. He’d make sure to ask Robby and Dana what it meant later. For now, he just wanted to stay by your side.

A/N: I'm going to see Thunderbolts tonight by myself before going with friends tomorrow. Then we're having movie night at my place on Saturday. What are y'all doing this weekend?

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

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