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bueckets · 5 months ago

Text

The Hit List | 02.5

Pairing: fuckgirl!Paige x Mechi Student!reader

Masterlist (TBA) | Part One | Part Two (READ BEFORE 2.5)

Genre: romance, slow burn, enemies to lovers, kinda funny?, they fuck, n its hot n sweaty, cat n mouse

Description: What starts as a game of avoidance turns into something far more dangerous when old grudges and unfinished business crash headfirst into a truth neither of them are ready to face. Armed with a stubborn streak, a boyfriend you're trying too hard to believe in, and a simmering resentment that burns just as hot as desire, you swear you won’t let Paige win.

But when history keeps rewriting itself in glances, in touches, in words that cut too close—you start to wonder if you've had control of the game at all.

wc: 24k, yes, 24k

Authors Note: sorry this took forever, too many words so this is split into two parts (THIS IS part 2 chap 2)

Three Weeks Later

Midterms came and went, dragging you through hell and back. The sleepless nights, the cramming, the fucking Systems Engineering project that nearly made you throw your laptop out a window. It’s over. You survived.

And somewhere in between all of it—Paige Bueckers became just a name again.

Not a person. Not a presence. Not someone orbiting your every waking moment.

Just a name you see online.

A headline when UConn wins another game.

A clip someone reposts on Twitter, her pulling up from three like it’s muscle memory, making it look so goddamn easy.

Her life moves forward at full speed.

The season’s in full swing, meaning the team’s constantly gone—traveling for games, disappearing for days at a time, too busy to be anything but motion.

It’s weird.

Because after that night—after the fucking laundry room, after the way she felt against you, the way her breath tangled with yours—you thought she’d stick. Thought the weight of her would still be there, pressing into your ribs, twisting your stomach every time you caught a glimpse of her across campus. But she’s gone.

Not in the literal sense. You still hear her name, see her in passing, watch her run drills on the court like she owns it. But she’s not here. Not in the way that matters. She’s everywhere else—on screens, in headlines, living a life that no longer overlaps with yours.

And you hate that the only way you see her now is through a fucking phone. A video of her laughing on the sideline, hair damp with sweat, head thrown back like she doesn’t have a care in the world. A post-game interview where she’s loose, confident, rattling off the same media-trained answers like she’s never lost control of anything in her life. She’s fine. She’s thriving.

And the worst part? She probably doesn’t think about you at all.

So you adjust. You fall back into routine. Class. Studying. Work. You go to parties, sometimes. You drink. You dance. You make out with people whose names you don’t bother remembering. You kiss Eli again—once, just to see if it sparks something, if it fills the void she left behind. It doesn’t. It never does.

And then, just as fast as she disappeared—

She’s back.

It happens out of nowhere. One second, you’re dragging yourself through campus, brain fogged with sleep, the winter air biting at your skin, coffee scalding the tip of your tongue. And then—her. Right there. Like she never left. Like she hasn’t spent the last few weeks bouncing between cities, arenas, flashing cameras. Like she isn’t something bigger than all of this.

She’s standing outside the training facility, hoodie pulled over her head, joggers slung low on her hips, a duffel bag hanging off her shoulder. She’s talking to someone—one of her coaches, maybe—but she’s different. Not in the way she looks. No, she’s exactly the same, infuriatingly so. It’s something else, something in the way she carries herself, like she’s spent so much time away from this part of her life that she almost forgot it existed.

Like she almost forgot about you.

Your breath stutters. Your steps slow.

She’s close enough to touch. Close enough to reach out and prove she’s real.

And yet, she might as well be a ghost.

Because when she finally turns, finally glances up—she sees you. You know she does. But there’s nothing. No reaction. No flicker of recognition. No teasing smirk. No raised brow, no knowing glance, nothing. Just a passing look, empty and indifferent, before she turns away.

Like you’re nobody.

Like that night never happened.

Like you never fucking existed.

And it wrecks you. Because for the first time since this whole fucked-up, tangled thing started—

It feels like you lost.

Two Months Later

Dating Eli is easy. That’s the problem.

There’s no push and pull, no fire curling under your ribs, no moments where your pulse spikes so fast you think you might actually combust. There’s no game. No tension. Just quiet, steady comfort. He’s sweet—thoughtful, even. Picks you up for class sometimes, walks you to your dorm even when it’s out of his way, texts you good morning despite seeing you every day. A good boyfriend. The kind you’re supposed to want.

And you? You go through the motions. You hold his hand. Let him kiss you. Let him slip an arm around your shoulders as you walk across campus, even though it still feels foreign. Even though it still feels wrong. But you let it happen because it’s safe. Because he doesn’t make your stomach drop. Because he doesn’t wreck you.

Because he’s not her.

And that’s exactly what you need. Because Paige Bueckers doesn’t know you exist anymore.

She came back from the season like she shed you—like you were just something she outgrew. Whatever happened between you was nothing. A passing thought. A mistake so inconsequential she didn’t even have to acknowledge it. And if she doesn’t care? Then neither do you.

So you lean into Eli.

And when he invites you to a UConn game—something casual, something low-stakes, something he’s excited to take you to—you say yes. You say yes because it makes sense. Because this is your life now. Because Paige Bueckers is just another player on the court.

And that’s all she’s ever going to be.

The stadium is packed, the early spring air crisp, cutting through the warmth of the sun. You follow Eli up the steps, scanning for open seats, the scent of popcorn and hot dogs thick in the air. It’s different from the last time you were at a game. Not indoors, not under the blinding arena lights. The energy is looser, more relaxed, fans chatting easily, kids waving oversized foam fingers.

You take a breath, steadying yourself. It’s fine. It’s just a game. And you’re here with your boyfriend.

Eli finds seats near the middle, pulling you down beside him, arm draping lazily over your shoulders. You lean in, let yourself sink into the warmth of his body, let yourself pretend like this is all normal.

On the court, the team is warming up. Players jog across the pavement, stretching, shaking out their limbs. Your gaze drifts over them, detached, unfocused, not looking for anything in particular—

And then—her.

It shouldn’t feel like a fucking collision, but it does.

Your breath catches, body locking up as if it knew before your brain did. As if some deep, unshakable instinct recognized her presence before you could stop it. Paige jogs across the court, her shorts hanging loose around her thighs, her hoodie still on, dribbling lazily like she doesn’t have a single care in the world. Like she’s untouchable.

Your chest tightens. She still looks the same. Still is the same. And yet—something’s different. Maybe it’s the way she seems even more unreachable now, like she exists in a space just beyond your grasp.

You exhale sharply, force your gaze away.

You’re here with Eli.

You’re fine.

This means nothing.

Eli nudges you. “You good?”

You blink, nodding too quickly. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

He smiles, presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Get ready. She’s gonna put on a show.”

You force a laugh.

And when you chance another glance at the court—Paige is already looking at you.

But this time, she reacts.

Just slightly. Just enough.

A shift in her eyes. A flicker of something.

And then—she smiles.

Not big. Not obvious. Just the barest curve of her lips, like she knows. Like she sees you sitting there, tucked under Eli’s arm, playing house, pretending like you’ve moved on. And for the first time in months, you know—

She hasn’t forgotten you at all.

You don’t watch the game. Not really.

You hear it—the sharp squeak of sneakers against pavement, the shrill whistle of fouls, the deafening roar of the crowd when UConn scores. You see it—the blur of white and navy jerseys cutting across the court.

But your focus is off.

Because all you can feel is the weight of her presence.

And the fact that she knows you’re here.

It fucks with you.

Because it had been easy to believe she forgot. That she let it go, left you in the past, moved on like you were nothing. But now—now she’s looking at you between plays. Not constantly. Not obviously. Just enough.

A glance while she’s standing at the free-throw line, hands on her hips, chest rising and falling. A flicker of her eyes when she jogs back on defense, scanning the crowd, skimming right past Eli like he doesn’t even exist.

And that fucking smirk when she sinks a three-pointer, lets it hang in the air for just a second before she turns, wiping the sweat off her brow with the hem of her jersey.

It’s deliberate. Calculated.

And it’s working.

Heat curls up your spine, a suffocating mix of frustration and something you won’t name. Your arms lock tight across your stomach, fingers curled into your sleeves. Beside you, Eli cheers, completely oblivious.

You wish you could be.

You wish you could tune her out. Pretend she’s just another player on the court. Pretend she doesn’t get under your skin.

But she’s in your head again. She won’t leave.

And worse—she knows it.

The game stretches on, endless. Every second is another reminder that she’s still there. That she’s not just some passing thought, some unfinished mistake. She’s real. She’s here. And she’s still in this fucking thing with you, even if neither of you are saying it out loud.

By the time the final buzzer sounds, you feel like you’ve been through a war.

Eli’s arm tightens around your shoulders, shaking you lightly. “See? Told you she’d put on a show.”

You nod, force a tight smile, but your chest feels hollow, your stomach twisted into something you don’t know how to untangle.

Because the game might be over—

But this?

This is just getting started.

The crowd filters out in waves, a slow, steady stream of bodies stretching stiff limbs, shaking off the lingering chill, still thrumming with energy from the win. Eli stands, his hand warm around yours as he pulls you up with him, his voice easy, unbothered, spilling into the space between you with post-game analysis—stats, highlights, a play he wants to rewatch later.

You nod when you’re supposed to, hum responses that sound just engaged enough, but none of it sticks. Your mind is elsewhere.

Because she’s still here.

Not with the team. Not caught up in post-game celebrations or media duties. No cameras, no noise, no excuses. Just lingering.

Sweat still clings to the curve of her neck, damp strands of blonde hair curling against her skin. Her hoodie is pulled over her head, water bottle hanging loose from her fingers, body relaxed like she has nowhere to be. But she’s not just standing there.

She’s watching.

Not outright. Not obvious. Just enough.

And Eli? He doesn’t notice.

Because why would he? He’s here with his girlfriend, celebrating a win, caught up in the moment, assuming she’s just watching the team clear out, thinking nothing of it.

You, on the other hand—

You can’t fucking breathe.

Every nerve is stretched too tight, buzzing under your skin, prickling like static, like she’s marking you without even touching you. Like she’s still fucking with you, seeing how much space she can take up in your head before you break.

And the worst part?

She looks fine.

Completely untouched. Unshaken. Not like she’s been thinking about you. Not like this has cost her anything.

And that—that is what undoes you.

Because this was supposed to be over.

You were supposed to be fine.

But here you are. Crumbling.

Eli tugs on your sleeve, easy, unaware. “Come on, let’s head out before traffic gets bad.”

You blink, drag yourself back into the present, nodding too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

One step.

Then two.

And then—

You don’t mean to look.

But you do.

Just for a second.

And she’s still there.

And she smiles.

Not big. Not obvious. Just that same, slow, knowing curve of her lips.

Like she sees right through you.

Like she knows you’re unraveling.

Like she’s won.

It’s three days after the game when the email comes in.

You don’t think much of it at first, just another facilities request forwarded to you through the engineering department—something about a faulty vent system in the women’s basketball locker room. Nothing urgent, nothing particularly exciting, just another task to check off your list between classes and whatever project is currently draining your soul. You’re barely skimming the details as you type out a confirmation reply, promising to stop by that afternoon, when it hits you.

Women’s basketball locker room.

Your stomach tightens.

For a second, you debate forwarding it off to someone else. Someone more qualified, someone with less history hanging in that space. But that’s fucking ridiculous, isn’t it? It’s been three months. Three months since the laundry room, since she pretended you didn’t exist, since you started playing house with Eli like it was supposed to fix everything. Three months of routine, of pretending you don’t track her name through game highlights and Twitter clips, of pretending you don’t feel her presence like a ghost in the back of your head.

You should be fine.

This shouldn’t be a thing.

It’s a fucking vent. You’re going to walk in, tighten some screws, maybe clean out a filter, and walk right back out. No big deal.

And yet, as you step into the building later that afternoon, tool bag slung over your shoulder, the cold press of the metal door handle beneath your palm, you feel something coil tight in your chest, something uneasy and electric, something that tells you this won’t be as easy as you want it to be.

The locker room is quiet when you step inside, the kind of silence that feels thick, like it’s waiting to be broken. The scent of sweat and body wash lingers in the air, fresh from practice, steam still clinging faintly from the showers in the back. Rows of lockers stretch across the room, some still open, jerseys draped lazily over the benches, sneakers kicked off in pairs on the floor.

You exhale slowly, adjusting the strap of your bag as you move toward the vent panel along the far wall. The faster you do this, the faster you can leave. You crouch, fingers working quickly to loosen the first few screws, trying to focus on the movement, the mechanics, anything but the slight tremble in your hands, anything but—

“Didn’t think I’d see you in here.”

The voice is unmistakable.

That low, casual drawl, edged in something sharper, something teasing, something that shouldn’t still make your breath catch the way it does.

You don’t turn immediately.

You keep working, keep your gaze locked on the vent, pretend like your pulse hasn’t just doubled. “Just fixing a maintenance issue,” you say, voice as even as you can manage. “Won’t be here long.”

There’s a pause, a shift of movement, the unmistakable sound of sneakers against tile. She’s coming closer.

“Shame,” Paige murmurs, and fuck, you feel it.

The weight of her gaze. The presence of her body somewhere behind you, close enough to make the air feel different, charged, suffocating.

You grip the screwdriver tighter.

She shouldn’t be here. Not now, not after all this time, not when you’ve spent months convincing yourself she doesn’t matter.

But she is.

And she’s talking to you.

You swallow, working another screw loose, forcing yourself to focus. “Shouldn’t you be at practice?”

She hums, and you hear the smile in it before you see it. “Finished early.” A pause, and then, “Didn’t know you were doing this kind of work.”

Your jaw tightens.

Of course, she didn’t. Because you don’t exist in her world anymore, do you? Not unless she decides you do.

You finally turn, slowly, pushing up from your crouch, letting yourself look at her.

And fuck, that was a mistake.

Because she looks good, better than you remember, the months of training and travel and games only sharpening her in ways that make your stomach twist. She’s standing there in sweatpants and a UConn tee, hair damp from a post-practice shower, arms crossed over her chest, watching you like she’s curious, like she’s interested, like she hasn’t spent three months pretending you were just another passing face in the crowd.

And it pisses you off.

You force a shrug, tilting your head slightly. “Didn’t know you cared what I was doing.”

Her smirk twitches. Just barely. Just enough.

“Didn’t say I did,” she replies smoothly, but the way she’s watching you says otherwise.

There it is.

The push and pull. The old game slipping back into place like it never left, like three months of avoidance didn’t mean shit.

And you should walk away. You should finish the job and leave, act like you don’t feel this, act like she’s just another person in another room.

But you don’t.

Because something deep in you, something bitter and unresolved and desperate, needs to know if this still means something.

So you take a step closer, watching the flicker in her eyes as you do.

“Then why are you standing here?” you ask, voice low, steady, challenging.

Paige doesn’t move. Doesn’t step back, doesn’t flinch, just holds your gaze, her mouth curving slightly, like she’s enjoying this, like she knows she’s getting to you.

“Maybe I’m just curious,” she says, tilting her head. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

Three months.

Three months of silence. Three months of pretending. Three months of you thinking you were the only one who remembered, the only one who cared, the only one still feeling it.

And now?

Now she’s standing here, looking at you like she never forgot at all.

You don’t answer.

Because what is there to say? That, yeah, it’s been a while, and yet somehow it still feels like she never left your fucking head? That you’ve spent the past three months trying to scrub the memory of her hands off your skin, only to have them crawl back the second you laid eyes on her again? That seeing her at the game did something to you—something ugly, something desperate, something you don’t want to name?

No.

You won’t give her that.

So instead, you just lift a brow, forcing something casual onto your face, like her presence isn’t making your chest feel too tight. “Yeah. Guess it has.”

Paige watches you for a second longer, and you can see it happening—her weighing the moment, deciding how she wants to play this. Because that’s what she does, isn’t it? She plays. Gives you something, just a taste, just enough to make your stomach flip, before she rips it away.

And you should know better by now.

You do know better.

But then she shifts, weight rolling back onto one foot, arms still folded, her mouth quirking into that slow, almost lazy smirk—the one that’s never meant nothing.

“So,” she says, tilting her head, “are you gonna keep ignoring me, or are we past that now?”

Your pulse stutters.

Your fingers tighten around the screwdriver in your hand.

You weren’t expecting that.

For her to just say it. To acknowledge it, to drag it into the light, the weight of your silence, the way you spent months dodging her like it might actually fix you.

You scoff, shaking your head, turning back to the vent, to anything that isn’t her mouth forming words that fuck you up. “I haven’t been ignoring you.”

It’s a lie.

Paige knows it’s a lie.

She steps closer—just enough that you can feel the shift of air between you, just enough that you catch the faint scent of her shampoo, something fresh, something clean, something too close.

“You sure?” she murmurs. “Because it kinda seemed like you were.”

Your teeth clench.

She’s doing it again.

The push and pull. The little tug, just enough to make you stumble, to throw you off balance, to remind you exactly who you’re dealing with.

You exhale slowly through your nose, focus on the screw you’re twisting into place, force your voice to stay neutral. “You seemed fine with it.”

There’s a pause. Just for a beat. Just long enough that you think maybe—maybe—you landed something.

Then—soft, amused—Paige says, “You think that?”

And it’s not fair.

The way she says it, the way it slides under your skin, the way it makes your chest squeeze, makes you feel fucking stupid for believing, even for a second, that maybe she really had forgotten you.

Your fingers tighten around the screwdriver.

She’s playing with you.

And the worst part?

You let her.

You don’t turn. Don’t face her. Don’t give her the satisfaction.

But your voice is quieter when you say, “Why do you even care?”

Another pause.

Then—

“Maybe I don’t.”

Your stomach drops.

It’s so fucking typical. Just when you think she’s giving you something, just when she pulls you an inch closer, she yanks it away.

You clench your jaw, inhale sharply, force yourself to stay still.

And then—because you refuse to let her win this—you huff a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Right. Of course.”

You finish tightening the last screw, closing the panel, standing up. You finally turn to her, tilting your head slightly, forcing something light onto your face, like you’re fine, like she isn’t doing what she always fucking does.

“Well,” you say, slipping the screwdriver back into your bag. “It’s been great catching up, but I have shit to do.”

You move to step past her.

But she shifts, blocking your path.

Not aggressively. Not obviously.

Just enough.

Just enough that you have to stop.

Just enough that you have to look at her.

Paige licks her lips, considering you, and her voice is quieter this time, almost thoughtful. “You don’t like when I do that, do you?”

Your stomach tightens.

You keep your face neutral. “Do what?”

She tilts her head slightly. “Give you something, then take it away.”

You swallow.

Because the fact that she’s saying it out loud—naming it, acknowledging it—makes your chest squeeze so hard it’s almost painful.

You force a shrug. “You do whatever you want, Paige.”

You step around her, adjusting the strap of your bag like the conversation hasn’t just sunk claws into your spine, like you aren’t already burning up from the inside out. You throw one last casual glance over your shoulder, just to make a point, just to show her this doesn’t fucking matter.

And then—

“Is he your boyfriend?”

It’s smooth, deliberate, cutting through the silence with the ease of a well-placed knife.

Your body goes rigid.

Not enough to be noticeable. Not enough to give her the satisfaction. But she notices.

You school your face into something neutral before turning back to her. “Yeah.”

The second the word leaves your mouth, Paige scoffs. Then—slow, quiet, like she’s really thinking about it—she laughs.

It’s not loud. It’s not obvious. But it hits.

It slides under your skin, needles into your chest, presses against something raw and unsettled.

You know exactly what she’s laughing at.

Not at Eli, not really.

She’s laughing at you.

At the fact that you’re standing here, pretending like that word doesn’t feel foreign in your mouth, like it doesn’t taste like something you don’t quite believe.

At the fact that you’ve spent months throwing yourself into a version of reality where he is the answer.

At the fact that she knows—she fucking knows—that if he really was, you wouldn’t be here.

Your throat tightens.

You square your shoulders. “Something funny?”

Paige shakes her head, smirk barely there, but sharp. “Nah.” A pause, her gaze flicking over you like she’s amused, like she’s bored. “Just wasn’t expecting that.”

Your fingers curl around the strap of your bag, tight enough to sting.

She tilts her head slightly. “Does he know you’re here?”

You force your jaw not to clench. “Why would it matter?”

Paige hums, the sound lazy, almost dismissive. “It wouldn’t.”

You don’t know why that lands deeper than it should, why it hits like something solid in your chest.

She doesn’t fucking care.

You exhale sharply, roll your shoulders, force yourself to act like you don’t feel like she just pressed a finger right against something bruised inside you.

“Well,” you say, tone light, detached, like this whole conversation hasn’t just put a fucking stone in your stomach, “great catching up.”

And this time, when you walk out—when you force your feet to move, when you push through the door into the cooler hallway air—you don’t look back.

You don’t have to.

Because you can still feel her there.

Still hear the low echo of her laugh.

Still fucking feel her.

And you hate that it still makes your chest tighten.

The locker room door swings shut behind you, but the conversation doesn’t leave with it.

It sticks.

It clings to your skin, coils in your stomach, presses into your ribs like something sharp and unshakable.

You walk down the hallway fast, like you can outrun the weight of her laugh in your ears, like you can erase the way she looked at you when she said that’s your boyfriend?—like the words weren’t just words, like they were something else, something heavier, something soaked in disbelief and mockery.

You should be over her by now.

But then why does your skin still burn? Why does your pulse still hammer against the inside of your wrist? Why does the way she said it—casual, unbothered, like it didn’t even fucking matter—make something in you want to break?

The night stretches out after that, long and restless. You try to study, but you can’t focus. You try to sleep, but every time you close your eyes, she’s there. Her smirk. Her scoff. The way she laughed like you were a joke. Like he was a joke.

You spend the next week avoiding places where you might run into her, avoiding anywhere that makes you feel like a live wire, avoiding thinking about her—

And it works.

Until it doesn’t.

Because the thing about Paige Bueckers is that she has a way of creeping back in, of making herself known, of pulling you back into her orbit whether you want to be there or not.

It happens at another party.

A packed house, music pulsing through the walls, the kind of night where people are drinking like they’re trying to forget something, where everything feels just a little too loud, a little too bright, a little too much.

You’re standing in the kitchen, fingers curled around a red cup, Eli close behind you, talking to someone you don’t know. His hand is warm where it rests on your hip, an absentminded touch, a casual claim.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

Until you’re not.

Until your eyes flicker past the crowd, past the shifting bodies and pulsing bass, past the open doorway—

And land right on her.

Paige is in the next room, leaning against the wall, head tilted, that lazy, practiced ease draped over her like armor. She’s watching something—someone. A girl. Pretty. Brunette. Standing too close, laughter spilling past glossy lips as she hangs on whatever Paige just said.

Paige isn’t even touching her. Doesn’t need to. Just standing there, looking, smirking, waiting. And the worst part? You know exactly what she’s doing.

Like she could have her if she wanted.

Like it’s not even a fucking question.

Your stomach knots, tight and hot. Not with jealousy—no, it’s worse than that. It’s recognition.

Because you know what it’s like to be on the other side of that look.

You know what it’s like to be wanted by her.

The ghost of it slams into you like a fist to the ribs—how it felt to have those eyes locked on you, sharp and knowing, pinning you down like a game she was already winning. How it felt when she had you right there and she knew it.

Your grip tightens around your cup, fingers digging in like it’s the only thing holding you together. Your breath stutters, the air too thick, the room suddenly too small.

She hasn’t seen you yet.

She’s too caught up in her game, too wrapped up in not caring.

So you do the same.

You force yourself to turn back to Eli, to play your part. You smile, lean into his touch, let him press his lips to your temple like it’s easy, like it’s nothing. Like it means something.

And maybe it works.

Maybe it doesn’t.

Because when you chance another glance—just for a second—

Paige is already looking at you.

And this time—

She smirks.

Slow. Deliberate. Like she’s been waiting for you to look. Like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Like she knows exactly how much space she still takes up in your fucking head.

And that’s when you snap.

You don’t think.

You move.

Your cup clatters onto the counter, liquid sloshing over the rim, but you don’t care. You slip out of Eli’s reach, push through the crowd—away, anywhere, somewhere with air that doesn’t taste like her.

Your pulse is a riot, hammering against your ribs, deafening in your ears as you shove past people pressed against walls, past laughter and voices swallowed by the music, past the tight, choking heat in your chest.

Your hands are shaking. Your breath is uneven. You need a second.

Just one fucking second to breathe—

And then—

A door swings open, and suddenly—

She’s right there.

Paige.

Still smirking.

Still looking like she has all the time in the world.

Still making your stomach feel like it’s caving in on itself.

Your chest rises and falls too fast, heat crawling up your neck, pooling low in your stomach, everywhere.

She leans against the doorway, casual as ever, the light behind her casting long shadows over the sharp angles of her face. She looks obnoxiously good, like she knows exactly how lethal she is.

She tilts her head. “What’s wrong?” she murmurs, voice low, teasing, like she already knows the answer.

And fuck her.

Fuck her for this.

For knowing you this well.

For still knowing you this well.

You shove past her, shoulder knocking against hers, but she moves at the last second, stepping just enough to block you—

And then—her hand.

Fingers curling around your wrist. Not hard. Not pulling. Just there.

You suck in a sharp breath.

She’s not holding you here. Not keeping you against your will.

But she doesn’t let go.

And neither do you.

The air between you crackles, thick, heavy, dangerous. The weight of something unsaid presses into your ribs, clinging to your skin, wrapping around you like a fucking chokehold.

Paige watches you.

And this time—

She doesn’t laugh.

She doesn’t smirk.

She waits.

And maybe—just maybe—

This time, you’re the one who moves first.

The space between you is electric, charged, something twisting tight in your chest like a live wire ready to snap. The hallway is dim, shadows stretching long against the walls, muffling the noise of the party outside, trapping you in this thing you’ve been running from for months.

Paige’s fingers are still around your wrist, not tight, not forcing—just there, anchoring you, keeping you from bolting like you probably should. Her eyes flicker over your face, searching, waiting, and fuck, you hate how easily she does this, how effortlessly she pulls you back into her gravity like you were never gone at all.

Your breath is uneven. Your pulse is pounding in your throat, but your voice is steady when you say, “What game are you playing at?”

She blinks, just once, slow and measured. Then the corner of her mouth curves, something smug, something dangerous. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Your stomach drops, rage curling up into your throat so fast it makes your vision go sharp.

You shove her.

Harder than you should, more than just frustration, more than just anger. It’s months of this—of her pushing, pulling, giving you something and then acting like it never fucking happened. It’s her laugh in the locker room, her smirk at the game, the way she looked at you through the crowd like she was daring you to react, to feel. It’s all of it—the way she still owns you and acts like she doesn’t even care.

Paige stumbles back a step, but her hand never leaves you.

Instead, she grabs your other arm, fingers tight around your biceps, steadying herself, steadying you. Her grip is firm, strong, the heat of her palms burning through your sleeves.

Her smirk is gone.

And when she speaks again, her voice is different. Lower. Rougher.

“I’m not playing at a game.”

Your breath catches.

Because it’s not cocky. It’s not teasing. It’s real.

Her hands flex slightly on your arms, like she’s bracing herself, like she needs you to hear this.

And you do.

It sinks under your skin, gets lodged somewhere between your ribs, breaks something open inside of you that you’ve been trying to keep sealed shut.

Your heart is hammering. Your whole body is buzzing, tight, waiting.

Paige is still holding you.

And she’s so fucking close.

You can feel her breath against your lips, can see the flicker in her eyes, the way her chest is rising and falling just as fast as yours.

You don’t know who moves first.

Maybe it’s her. Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s both of you at the same fucking time, colliding like you were never meant to be anything but this.

Your mouths crash together, hot and desperate, months of tension unraveling all at once, burning through every nerve in your body.

Paige exhales sharply against you, hands tightening around your arms before sliding up, up, framing your face, pulling you deeper into it, like she’s afraid you might disappear again.

You fist the fabric of her hoodie, dragging her into you, needing her closer, needing more.

Her body presses against yours, her lips insistent, rough, a little reckless, like she’s been waiting for this just as long as you have.

The hallway feels too small, the walls too close, your hands too desperate where they roam—her waist, her shoulders, the sharp edge of her jaw.

Paige groans softly against your mouth, and it wrecks you.

It fucking destroys you.

Because it’s real.

Because she wants this.

Because for the first time, she’s not taking it away.

You don’t stop.

Neither does she.

It’s all heat, all breath, all want. Paige’s mouth is rough, greedy, like she’s making up for every second you’ve spent apart, every time she pretended she didn’t see you, every time she smirked at you like this was just a game. Her hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, gripping the fabric of your shirt like she’d die if she let go.

You’re no better.

Your fingers fist in her hoodie, tugging her closer, dragging her against you, needing her body against yours, needing her to feel what she’s doing to you. The hallway barely exists anymore—the party, the noise, Eli—none of it fucking matters. Just her. Just her mouth, her hands, the way she kisses you like she’s starving for it.

Then, between kisses, between desperate little gasps, she murmurs it.

“I need you, baby.”

It wrecks you.

Fucking destroys you.

The word slips out easy, unthinking, raw. Not teasing, not smug, not calculated. Just real.

Your breath catches.

Paige must feel the way your body reacts, the way your nails dig into her arms, the way your hips press forward into hers, because she groans against your mouth and drags her teeth over your bottom lip.

You’re moving before you can think.

Paige is pushing you, guiding you back, back, until your shoulder blades hit a door, until she’s fumbling with the handle, barely breaking the kiss long enough to shove it open.

The room is dark, empty. Some random spare bedroom, barely furnished, barely even fucking registered because the second the door slams shut, Paige is on you again.

Her hands slide under your shirt, rough palms dragging up your ribs, fingertips pressing hard, desperate. Your breath is uneven, your body thrumming with something electric, something you can’t stop, something you don’t want to stop.

You don’t think.

You don’t need to think.

You just pull her hoodie up over her head, fingers tangling in the fabric for a second before it’s gone, discarded somewhere on the floor. Paige exhales sharply as you press into her, as your mouth moves against her jaw, down her throat, tasting, taking.

Her fingers slip into your hair, tugging just enough to make you feel it, enough to make you moan against her skin.

“Fuck,” she mutters, voice rough, breathless, like she’s unraveling, like you’re doing this to her.

You are.

And she fucking loves it.

Her hands move lower, sliding over your hips, gripping tight, like she’s anchoring herself, like she can’t stop touching you, like she’s making sure you’re real.

You kiss her again, harder, messier, pushing her back until her legs hit the edge of the bed, until you’re both toppling onto it, tangled together, all mouths and hands and heat.

Paige knows she’s winning.

You can see it in her eyes, the slow drag of them over your body, the way she takes her time, drinking in every reaction like she’s cataloging them, memorizing what makes you shiver, what makes you squirm, what makes your breath hitch in your throat.

She still likes the game.

She still likes to play.

But this time, she isn’t letting you pull away.

This time, she’s going to take everything.

Her fingers skim over your stomach, slow, teasing, just enough to make you feel it but not enough to satisfy anything. Her mouth follows, lips pressing soft, lingering kisses down, down, down, like she has all the time in the world.

Your head tilts back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut, but then she stops.

She stops completely.

The heat of her, the weight of her, everything—just gone.

Your eyes snap open, and she’s just looking at you, smug, comfortable, settled between your legs like she owns this moment, like she knows she has you right where she wants you.

Her fingers trail up your thigh, featherlight, barely there.

“You want this?”

Your stomach clenches.

She knows the answer.

She fucking knows.

You glare at her, shifting under her touch, frustrated, dizzy, so strung out you can barely think. “Paige—”

She smiles. Slow. Wicked.

And then, just as easily, “Say it.”

Your breath shudders out of you.

Because this?

This is her game.

She wants to hear you admit it. She wants to make you admit it.

She wants you to lose.

Your fingers dig into the sheets, your pulse a steady riot in your throat, in your wrists, between your legs where she still hasn’t fucking touched you.

But you can’t play this game forever.

Not when she already owns you.

Not when she already knows.

Your voice is thin when you say it.

“I want you.”

And the second the words leave your mouth—

She moves.

Paige grins, low and satisfied, and then she finally stops playing.

She knows she has you, like she’s been waiting for this moment, dragging it out, savoring every second of watching you come undone beneath her. She doesn’t rush. She doesn’t give you everything all at once. No, she takes her time, letting her fingers trace the curve of your hip, pressing light, teasing kisses down your stomach, exhaling slow like she’s enjoying this, like this is just as much for her as it is for you.

You’re burning alive.

Your breath is uneven, your hands twisting in the sheets, thighs already trembling with the anticipation of her next move. But she doesn’t move—not in the way you need her to.

Instead, she just looks at you.

From between your legs, eyes dark, lips parted, expression unreadable, like she’s still deciding how she wants to do this.

Your stomach clenches.

“Paige—”

She presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, slow, deliberate, her nails digging in just slightly when she grips your hips, holding you in place.

“Shh, baby,” she murmurs, and fuck, there it is again.

That word.

Casual, unthinking, sliding out of her mouth like she doesn’t even realize she’s saying it. Like she means it.

You shudder.

Paige notices. Of course, she does.

Her smirk curves against your skin, and then—

She finally stops playing.

The first press of her mouth sends a raw, electric jolt through you, your hips jerking up on instinct, fingers clawing into her hair like you’ll die if you let go. But she’s already moving—already fucking dragging this out like she wants you begging, like she’s savoring every second of your desperation. Her tongue flickers, slow and teasing, pressing, stroking, curling, soaking you with her hunger, her need.

She moans against your cunt like she’s been fucking starving for it. Like she’s been waiting, aching, dreaming of this moment for weeks, and now that she’s got you open beneath her, there’s no way she’s letting you go easy.

She drags it out.

Like she wants to ruin you.

Like she wants to tear you apart and put you back together with her tongue.

Your nails scrape against her scalp, hard enough to hurt, but she only groans, only pushes deeper, her tongue slipping, flicking, thrusting into the dripping heat of you. You’re gasping now, thighs trembling, back arching, breath catching in desperate, broken moans you can’t even bite back. You can feel her smirk, the way she’s reveling in it, the way she’s enjoying every single fucking sound you make for her.

Her fingers press in, spreading you, holding you open, her tongue working, her lips sucking, teasing, devouring—like she’s trying to drink every last drop of you. The obscene, wet sounds of her mouth on you make you whimper, make you grind down against her, make you clutch her hair so tight she groans into your slick heat.

Your body is shaking.

Paige tightens her grip, keeps you there, keeps you spread for her, keeps you exactly where she wants you—helpless, ruined, fucking wrecked on her tongue.

And just when you think you can’t take it anymore—just when the pleasure coils so tight in your stomach it’s about to snap—she fucking speeds up.

And you’re gone.

You don’t know if you scream her name. You don’t know if you sob it. But the pleasure detonates inside you like a fucking bomb, ripping through your body, setting every nerve on fire, leaving you shaking, gasping, falling apart beneath her mouth.

When you finally come back down—breathless, wrecked, soaked and still trembling—Paige is looking up at you from between your legs, her lips swollen, her chin glistening, her eyes dark and wicked.

Paige’s brow quirks up and she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving yours. You’re still gasping, still trembling, your body melted into the mattress, legs spread, thighs twitching from the aftershocks of what she just did to you. But she doesn’t move away. Doesn’t crawl up to lie beside you, doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath.

She licks her lips, smirks, and says, “I’m not done with you.”

And then she’s moving.

Crawling back up onto the bed, her body sliding over yours, her hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wider before she finally lets her weight press down. Her skin is hot, slick, her breath heavy and sweet, her thigh slotting between yours as she pins you there beneath her.

Then she grabs your tits.

No teasing, no hesitation—she palms them, squeezes, kneads, rolling the soft flesh in her hands like she owns you, like she’s claiming every inch of you all over again. Her thumbs flick over your nipples, once, twice, before she leans down and takes one into her mouth.

The heat of her tongue, the wet pull of her lips—it makes you cry out, makes you arch into her, makes your hands fly up to grip her head as she sucks, hard, her teeth scraping just enough to make your whole body jolt.

“Fuck,” you whimper, thighs clenching around her, but she just chuckles against your skin, her mouth latching onto your other nipple, her fingers tweaking and rolling the one she just left wet and swollen.

Then her hand moves up.

She grabs your chin, tilts your face up, and before you can even process it—

She shoves her fingers into your mouth.

Her fingers, still wet from you, slip past your lips, pressing against your tongue, forcing you to taste yourself as she pushes them deeper. Your lips part around them, your tongue curling against the salty-slick heat of her touch, a soft, helpless whimper slipping from your throat.

Paige groans at the sight, eyes dark, lips parted, her fingers flexing inside your mouth before she pulls them out—

And spits.

Right into your mouth.

A hot, wet drop onto your waiting tongue, mixing with your taste, with the slickness she just forced you to swallow.

“Swallow it,” she breathes, her voice thick, rough, her fingers trailing down your throat as you do exactly what she fucking tells you.

And then her hand is between your legs again, fingers slipping through your soaked, throbbing heat, pressing in, pushing deep—

Fucking you all over again.

Paige’s fingers drive deep, knuckles sinking into the wet heat of you, her palm grinding against your swollen clit as you gasp, as you choke on the pleasure, your body arching into her touch like you can’t help it. Like you’re made for this. Made for her.

"Fuck—yeah," she groans, watching you, watching the way your body reacts to her. "You feel that? Feel how fucking good I make you take it?"

Your breath stutters, your hips rolling down against her hand, your mouth falling open, nothing but desperate little whimpers spilling from your lips.

Paige smirks, dark and wicked, pressing in deeper, curling her fingers just right, just enough to have you fucking shaking. "Bet he never got you this wet, huh?" she taunts, her voice thick with heat, with possession. "Bet he never made you moan like this."

Your fingers clutch at her shoulders, nails digging in, your head tilting back against the pillows as she fucks into you, slow but deep, deliberate, like she’s making a point. Like she’s proving something.

"You wanna lie to me?" she murmurs, lips brushing your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "Wanna tell me he’s ever made you come like this? That he’s ever had you dripping down his fingers like a desperate little slut?"

You whimper, shaking your head, unable to speak, unable to do anything but take it.

"That’s what I thought," she breathes, grinning against your throat, her teeth scraping over your pulse before she drags her tongue along your skin. "That little boyfriend of yours wouldn’t know what to do with this pussy if it fucking begged him."

She pulls her fingers out, slow and teasing, leaving you empty, aching—only to shove them back in, hard, deep, her palm slapping against your soaked skin as you sob, as you fucking fall apart.

"He ever make you scream?" she growls, fucking you rougher, faster, her fingers pressing against that spot inside you that makes your whole body jolt. "He ever make you soak the sheets like this?"

Your back bows, pleasure slamming through you, your nails raking down her back.

"You’re fucking mine," Paige groans, her mouth on your jaw, your throat, her tongue tasting the sweat on your skin. "This pussy? It’s mine now. Say it."

You barely manage to breathe out the words—"It’s yours"—before she presses her palm against your clit, her fingers curling just right, and you break.

Pleasure rips through you, white-hot and shattering, your whole body shaking, your vision going hazy as you come, as Paige fucks you through it, as she watches you, revels in it, grins like she just fucking ruined you.

And she did.

She fucking did.

——-

You wake slowly, the kind of slow that doesn’t feel like rest. The kind that feels like being pulled from something deep and heavy, like your body’s been wrung out and put back together all wrong. The sheets are soft, warm, unfamiliar, and there’s a weight draped over your hip—solid, steady, too much. Your breath stutters before your brain even catches up.

Paige.

She’s there.

Heat ghosts against the back of your neck, steady and unhurried, the rhythm of her breathing lulling, like sleep still has a hold on her. Her arm is slung around your waist, fingers curled lazily against your stomach, like she belongs there. Like she’s never left before.

And that—that is what makes your chest tighten.

Because this isn’t just some drunken mistake. This isn’t heat or tension or something you can chalk up to unresolved bullshit. This is her in your space, in your bed, in the quiet after. And she’s never stayed before.

Your pulse kicks up, your fingers twitch against the sheets. Last night slams into you all at once—the scrape of her teeth, the press of her hands, the way she looked at you, like she was done playing. Like she wasn’t giving you a choice anymore.

Your stomach clenches.

You don’t know what to do with this.

With her.

So you move, slow, careful, trying not to wake her as you shift out from under her arm. But the second you pull away, Paige stirs, her breath hitching, her grip tightening for just a fraction of a second before her eyes flutter open.

She blinks at you, still groggy, still soft, and for one, dangerous moment, she doesn’t say anything.

She just looks at you.

And you can’t breathe.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the softness vanishes.

Paige stretches, rolls onto her back, runs a hand through her hair, like she does this all the time, like she’s just woken up from any other night, not this one.

“Morning,” she mutters, voice rough with sleep.

You swallow, force yourself to move, force yourself to sit up and swing your legs off the bed. You don’t look at her.

“Yeah,” you say, clearing your throat. “Morning.”

You feel her watching you.

Feel her waiting.

For what, you don’t know.

But when you stand, reaching for your clothes, Paige finally speaks again.

“You leaving?”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt.

You could stay. You could let this morning linger, let whatever this is stretch out just a little longer.

But the longer you stay, the harder it’ll be to pretend like this isn’t something.

So you nod, still not looking at her. “Yeah.”

Paige exhales through her nose, shifts behind you, and you expect her to let it go, to brush it off like she always does.

Instead—

“You gonna tell him?”

Your stomach drops.

You don’t need to ask who she means.

Eli.

The name rings in your head like a warning, like something cold and sharp, and you hate that she’s the one who brought it up, that she’s the one forcing you to look at it when you were this close to just leaving without dealing with the weight of it.

You squeeze your eyes shut for half a second before turning to face her.

Paige is propped up on one elbow now, watching you with something unreadable in her expression, like she’s testing you, like she’s seeing if you’ll break first.

You lick your lips, pulse hammering. “That’s none of your business.”

Paige’s lips twitch, and for a second, you think she’s going to let it go.

But then—

She scoffs. Shakes her head. Leans back against the headboard with a lazy, almost bored kind of smirk.

“Right. Forgot you’re still playing house with him.”

Your whole body goes rigid.

She’s doing it again.

Tugging at you, pushing you, seeing what you’ll do.

Your jaw clenches, fingers fisting into the hem of your shirt. “I’m not playing anything.”

Paige hums, unconvinced. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Something inside you snaps.

Because how dare she?

How dare she act like you’re the one playing games when she’s the one who ignored you for three months? When she’s the one who smirked at you across a fucking stadium like she knew she had you? When she’s the one who—

You exhale sharply, shaking your head, forcing yourself to breathe.

This is exactly what she wants.

So you don’t give it to her.

You pull your shirt over your head, reach for your shoes, straighten up.

Then, voice even, you say, “This didn’t mean anything, right?”

It’s a test.

You can see the flicker in her eyes, the quick way her throat bobs as she swallows.

But it’s gone in an instant.

Paige shrugs, casual, careless, like she’s already over it.

“Right,” she echoes. “Just a good time.”

Your chest tightens.

You don’t know what answer you wanted, but that—

That wasn’t it.

You nod once, sharp, then turn for the door.

And this time, you don’t fucking stop.

The door slams behind you, the force of it rattling down your spine, but you don’t stop moving.

You storm down the hallway, your breath sharp, hands curled into fists, every nerve in your body buzzing like a live wire. You don’t let yourself think. Thinking would mean feeling, and you can’t—won’t—give her that.

Not after what she just said.

Not after this didn’t mean anything, right?

Not after she agreed with you.

Just a good time.

That’s all it was. That’s all she wants.

You push through the front door, stepping into the cold air outside, your breath coming fast, too shallow, like you just ran ten miles. You shove your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie, fingers curling against the fabric, trying to ground yourself, trying to—

Your phone rings.

Or at least, you think it’s your phone.

The vibration against your palm jolts you, and you pull it out, ready to decline the call, ready to shut the entire fucking world out.

But then—

You see the name.

Taylor.

Your breath catches.

Your chest tightens.

The cold bites at your skin, but suddenly, it’s like everything else stops.

Because this isn’t your phone.

This isn’t your hoodie.

You look down at yourself, the oversized sleeves, the familiar weight of the fabric, the scent clinging to it—her scent.

Paige’s hoodie.

Paige’s fucking phone.

And Taylor is calling.

Your stomach lurches.

Right back where you started.

The phone keeps ringing, vibrating steadily in your hand, demanding something from you that you can’t give.

You stare at the screen, at the name that shouldn’t be your problem, at the proof of what Paige just walked away from.

And something inside you snaps.

You spin on your heel, shoving back through the front door, retracing your steps, moving fast, fueled by something you don’t even have a name for.

You don’t knock.

You don’t hesitate.

You shove the door open, expecting her to be there, expecting her to still be sitting on that bed with her legs spread and that fucking look on her face, smug and satisfied and untouchable.

But she’s gone.

Just fucking gone.

Like she was never here at all.

The phone stops ringing.

Silence.

You stand there, chest heaving, hoodie too big on you, your fingers still curled around a phone that doesn’t belong to you.

The phone is still warm in your hand.

It shouldn’t matter. It’s just a piece of plastic, just a screen with a name that shouldn’t be your problem. But it is. The weight of it presses against your palm, solid and damning, the name Taylor burned into your retinas, a fucking mockery of everything that just happened.

Paige left.

Vanished like this was nothing, like she didn’t just dig her fingers into you and pull you under, like she didn’t just whisper your name against your skin, like she didn’t just look you in the eye and say just a good time before slipping away like a fucking ghost.

Like she didn’t just ruin you.

And if she thinks she gets to walk away from this untouched—

She’s wrong.

Your feet move before your brain even catches up, before you can think about how reckless this is, before you can stop yourself from doing exactly what she wants. Because you already know where she is.

Where she always is.

The athletic facility is quieter than usual this late at night, the halls dimly lit, silent except for the distant hum of vending machines and the soft squeak of your shoes against the polished floors. But the second you push through the doors to the locker room—

The silence shatters.

Laughter.

Voices overlapping, casual, easy, still thrumming from practice, still buzzing with energy. The kind of normalcy that makes your blood boil, because your world is fucking spinning and yet—

She’s here.

Paige is here.

Leaning against the lockers, towel draped around her neck, a lazy grin curling at her lips as she listens to something one of the girls is saying. Loose. Relaxed. Unbothered.

Like she didn’t just leave you standing in the wreckage she made.

Heat slams into your ribs, a pulse of something violent and ugly crackling under your skin. Your fingers tighten around the phone, nails digging in, breath sharp and unsteady. And before you even fully register what you’re doing—

You move.

The door swings shut behind you with a slam, the force of it cutting through the noise, making heads turn, making conversation die mid-sentence.

Paige doesn’t move.

Doesn’t flinch.

But her shoulders go rigid for half a second before she shifts—casual, calm, fucking unhurried.

Like she already knows it’s you.

Like she felt you coming before she even looked.

And when she finally does—

The smirk is already forming.

Already settling into place like armor. Like a mask. Like she thinks she still has control of this.

But she doesn’t.

You stop in front of her, too close, way too close, enough to make the other girls shift where they stand, enough to make the laughter fully die out, enough to make the air feel thick.

Paige stays leaned against the lockers, pretending, but her eyes flicker over you, sharp and calculating.

Assessing.

Waiting.

So you don’t make her wait long.

You lift the phone, hold it up between you. Let her see it. Let her know why you’re here.

And then—voice low, rough, barely steady under the weight of your fucking anger—

“You think you can just fuck me and play me while your girlfriend still calls?”

The reaction is instant.

The shift in the room is immediate.

Someone swears under their breath. One of the girls lets out a quiet oh, shit. Another shifts awkwardly, eyes darting between you and Paige like they just walked into a fucking war zone.

But you don’t look at any of them.

You only see her.

And Paige—

For the first time, she doesn’t have a comeback.

Her lips part slightly. Her throat bobs as she swallows. Her fingers twitch just slightly around the towel slung over her shoulder.

It’s subtle.

Barely there.

But you see it.

The hesitation.

The way she’s trying to catch up to you, trying to find the right move, trying to figure out how to pull back control.

But there isn’t one.

Because this time, you’re the one leading.

This time, she’s the one who doesn’t know what to say.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, pressing into your ribs, into your throat, into her.

Then—slowly—Paige exhales through her nose, shifts against the lockers, expression smoothing into something blank, something unreadable.

She tilts her head slightly, eyes flickering over your face, voice deceptively soft when she says—

“You done?”

Your stomach twists.

Not with pain. Not with embarrassment.

With rage.

Because she isn’t sorry.

She isn’t guilty.

She’s just pissed that you called her out in front of them.

Your grip tightens around the phone, your pulse hammering in your ears, and for a second, you think about throwing it at her.

Then, just as quickly, you step forward—lean in close, so only she can hear—

And whisper, voice like a knife—

“You’re a fucking coward.”

Paige’s jaw locks.

Her whole body tenses.

And that—

That’s how you know you landed a hit.

You hold her gaze a second longer, long enough to make sure she felt it, long enough to see the way her breath catches, the way her fingers twitch, the way she’s fighting to stay still.

Then—

Without waiting for a response—

You shove the phone against her chest.

She catches it automatically, fingers closing around it, but she doesn’t look down.

She just looks at you.

Expression unreadable.

Eyes sharp, dark, burning.

You should look away first.

You should be the one to turn and walk out.

But you don’t.

You hold her gaze.

Daring her.

Challenging her.

Waiting.

For what, you don’t fucking know.

But you can feel it.

Feel something shifting, feel something breaking, feel something coming.

And for the first time—

You think Paige might feel it, too.

But then—

She swallows.

Nods once.

Slips the phone into her pocket like it doesn’t matter.

Then—voice low, smooth, too fucking even—

She says, “See you around.”

Like this was nothing.

Like she didn’t just lose.

Like she’s already planning how to fucking win.

This is war.

903 notes · View notes

jayhyunglover · 5 months ago

Text

Fill the void

Pairing : Caleb x non MC reader Content :rough sex , aphrodisiac sex , oral sex (fem receiving) , slight bondage, inappropriate use of evol , slight exhibitionism, unprotected sex, MC's cameo , reader evol is mentioned, porn with plot , creampie (use protection guys ) Wk: 6.9 k (MF *side eye* ) Synopsis : when you fled on that island to save your comrade you didn't expect it to turn into forced vacation with the very reason of your jealousy. Part 2 to Heartless A/N: this part 2 wasnt planned but Caleb got me feeling some type of way . I need this man to rail me on top of a desk with his uniform still on and Call out my name playing in repeat in the BG. (Zayne be filling papers divorce after he heard me say that) Now playing: Fill the void by The weeknd and Lily Rose Depp.

Masterlist

Fill the void.

Maybe that’s what you were desperately trying to do with Caleb’s presence in your life. Fill the enormous void in your heart and soul.

You didn’t know who avoided who at this point. Was it you or him? Who cared, anyway? He had his pipsqueak back. You just minded your own life and business now.

“It seems there isn’t anything wrong with that area,” you heard Commander Ash’s voice crackle through your headset.

“They must be hiding. Keep looking,” you replied, voice cool and controlled as your eyes scanned the real-time images from his UAV camera feed.

Usually, missions involving Protocurve anomalies fell under the Hunter Association’s jurisdiction, but the unusual readings near the Farspace Fleet-controlled zone warranted your team’s intervention. The fluctuations were too erratic, too dangerous to ignore.

A sudden crash broke through the static, followed by a sharp burst of white noise. Then, silence.

“Commander Ash! Can you hear me?” Your voice pitched higher as your fingers scrambled over the console. “Ash, respond!”

No answer.

Shit.

Ripping the headset off, you spun out of the command room, ignoring the shouts of other soldiers as they tried to stop you.

“Lieutenant General! Protocol requires—”

“I need Hershley 4543 prepped and ready for immediate departure!” you barked, cutting them off as you stormed into the hangar.

“Ma’am, that’s against—” the mechanic stammered, stepping forward.

“No buts! One of our own is out there, and I am not leaving him behind,” you snapped, your voice razor-sharp, thought your hands were trembling betraying the panic bubbling just beneath your façade.

“Make it two.”

The mechanic hesitated for a moment, then nodded, shrinking under your unwavering gaze. “Understood. We’ll have it ready in five.”

…*...*...*...*...*...*...

You climbed into the cockpit of the Hershley 4543 -a sleek reconnaissance aircraft equipped with stealth capabilities and advanced tracking systems. The roar of the engines was deafening, but it grounded you. You went through the pre-flight checks with practiced efficiency, hands flying over the controls as the team cleared you for takeoff.

Rushing into danger like this was beyond reckless. You knew that. But Commander Ash was an ally -a friend even, though you’d never admit it aloud.

“Flight control to LTG,” a voice crackled in your ear. “Tracking a spike in Protocurve readings at your target location. You sure about this?”

You flicked the comm switch. “I’ll handle it. Just keep the airspace clear.”

…*...*...*...*...*...

The flight to the designated zone was uneventful—eerily so. The clouds parted to reveal an expanse of barren terrain. From the air, everything seemed peaceful. Too peaceful.

You adjusted the thermal imaging on your monitor, scanning for any sign of Ash or the Wanderer he’d been tracking. The anomaly readings were spiking, but there was no visual confirmation.

“Come on, Ash. Where are you?” you muttered under your breath, gripping the controls tighter.

A loud thud made your ears perk up , your senses in high alert as you heard a faint curse.

What the actual fuck ? you quickly took off your headset ,shifting the commands on automatic pilot mode before standing up to explore what on earth was happening in the back of your plane.

Your steps were as silent as the plane 2 minutes ago and you were starting to think the curse you heard earlier was just a trick of your imagination .As you approached the source of the noise , your right hand reached for your sidearm.

You opened the curtain separating the rest of the plane from the cockpit ,gun raised and ready only for your eyes to fall on that hunter girl .

What was Caleb's pipsqueak doing aboard an Airforce plane ?

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You heard your voice said , your eyebrows furrowing in a confused frown that had the girl in front of you gasping.

You didn't lower your gun even as she scrambled onto her feet, her hands raised in surrender.

“Don't shoot , I am not an enemy” her voice was a pitched squeal that had your irritated nerves fraying further.

“This is an Air Force operation , why are you here?” You asked after finally lowering your gun , the sigh of relief that left her lips didn't escape you.

“I heard there is a wanderer involved and I happen to be a hunter so I thought I could help”

You scoffed at her words before placing your gun back in the holster.

“And you think boarding without permission on an airplane during an important mission is helping” you hummed sarcastically as you made your way back to the cockpit

Her hands curled into fists at your blatant dismissal , a small frown etched on her features as she followed closely behind you .

“I am here to help” she repeated, her voice edged with an hint of frustration “not to be a burden”

“Just you standing there and breathing is already a burden for me” you bit back before placing your headset back on, though your tone was cool and controlled the venom dripping from your words stung harder than she cared to admit .

Just her existence was already a burden you thought, eyes flickng back to the faint signal that appeared on your screen.

If she was the least offended by your words, she didn't show it . After all, you were known among the Farspace fleet for your temper and sharp tongue. And despite being there only for a short amount of time , she seemed to have already picked up that information.

She leaned against your seat to peer up over your shoulder at the monitoring screen where you could see the faint signal of Ash's locator

What does she think she's doing ? The poisonous look you gave her would have probably sent her 6ft deep underground if only looks could kill but it didn't even make her flinch.

“If you're planning to tag along stay out of my sight unless you want to find out what happens when you jump off a plane without parachute” your icy tone and the not so subtle menace in your words made her gulp audibly but she didn't leave as you hoped, instead to your growing irritation she plopped herself in the co-pilot seat beside you , her eyes scanning over the command board like a curious child.

Just what the heck is wrong with her ?

Whatever ! you shook your head before focusing back on the beeping signal of Ash's locator on your screen

As long as she kept her mouth shut , Everything would be fine . You'd just have to pretend she wasn't there.

But of course she wouldn't keep her mouth shut .

“I can sense something” she whispered mostly to herself as she stared at the beeping hunter watch on her wrist but it didn't escape your ears .

Your eyes flickered towards her for a fraction of second before refocusing back on the monitoring screen where you could see how much closer you were getting to Ash's location .

“Hold tight, hunter. We are about to land” you warned her before preparing for the descent.

She scrambled onto her seat, her hands gripping the armrest for dear life . The sight almost pulled a small smirk from you but you quickly schooled your features back in their usual stoic mask .

…*...*...*...*...*...

Even as you landed on the small island where Ash’s coordinates led you , everything was still peaceful, way too peaceful. Though that hunter girl insisted on the fact she could sense something, your surroundings were nothing short but the picture perfect of a small tropical paradise.

“It must be here” you heard her whisper to herself, her feet pacing back and forth on the shimmering white colored sand as she stared at that damn watch.

“Stop pacing around like that , it's making me dizzy” you finally snapped, making her freeze in her tracks to look at you .

“The signal said that Ash is there” you pointed at the dense forest at the edge of the beach

“But the fluctuations are coming from this wa-”

“We don't give a fuck about the fluctuations” you cut her off ,your voice icy cold as you stepped closer to her “we are here to save my friend and not to play hunter x hunter so either you stay here and get killed by whatever is lurking on this island or you come with me”

She contemplated your words for a moment, her teeth nibbling at the plush of her bottom lip for a moment before she finally spoke

“Go , I'll manage alone” not the answer you expected but if she seemed determined to find this wanderer .

“Very well” you let out a faint chuckle before turning on your heels to head towards the forest where you'll probably find Ash without sparing her a second glance

What ? She thought you'd bring her by a leash after you . She was a grown ass woman that could perfectly manage herself. Well you hope

If anything happens to her , Caleb will be devastated though. That torturing voice muttered in your ear .

Fuck no .

You weren't her damn babysitter and you didn't give a fuck about what Caleb thought or how would he feel if something happened to her . Hell you didn't even give a damn about Caleb anymore.

But even as you told yourself that , your legs were already jogging back to where you left her

“Damn hunter” you muttered as your searched frantically on the beach but she was nowhere to be found , only the clear blue seawater and dusty sand was looking back at you .

Sorry Ash but hunter first then I'll save your ass.

…*...*...*...*...*...

You didn't know for how long you've been roaming endlessly on that island , searching for Ash and that hardheaded hunter. You could easily leave her to perish there . After all it would be quite the sweet revenge to finally satisfy your petty jealousy but you weren't letting anyone die on your watch, not today .

You can always look away. that same persistent voice whispered but you quickly shook it off.

The dead branches creaked beneath your feet as you walked further into the forest , the eerily silence almost suffocating. It was too quiet to be normal. Not even a bird chirping sound ,That was beyond odd.

A faint rustling made your ears perk up , your hand already pointing the gun in whatever direction it came from but to your surprise and relief you found the hunter girl and Ash attached and suspended like sausages by the vines.

No they weren't vines .

“Lieutenant don't get any closer” Ash shouted, his voice laced with concern while the hunter was trying hard kick off those viscous tentacles around her legs .

You raised your gun to shoot but she interrupted you .

“This doesn't work on them, see” she gestured to her gun laying on the grassy ground “wasted my whole magazine while trying to hit it” she sighed , her hands hanging loosely beside her head.

You cursed lowly under your breath before grabbing the blade hidden in your boot to attempt to cut off those damn tentacles like vines or whatever they were.

“Why are you here , Lieutenant?” Ash asked, earning a dirty glare from you .

“Saving your ass, of course” you let through gritted teeth before slashing through the vines to free him.

He fell on the ground with a loud thud , his gloved hand reaching out to massage his head that got hit at the fall.

You stepped over his body to cut off the restraints still curled around the hunter girl. She fell flat on her ass with a small gasp before sitting up.

“Let's not hang around for too long” you suggested already helping Ash standing to his feet

But you knew by the way she was observing the weird vines-like tentacles you would definitely hang around for a while.

“I've never seen a wanderer like that” she whispered fascinately , her hands already reaching out to touch it but you stopped her halfway.

“So what?” You scowled, grabbing her wrist to stop her from touching the weird object “new kind of wanderers appears everyday it's not the moment to play mad scientist, hunter” you tugged her along wanting to get out of this island as soon as possible.

“But shouldn't we kill it?” She asked while you dragged her the further away possible from this wanderer .

“That wasn't our mission, Commander Ash was sent in reconnaissance and I went out of my way to save him” you explained not sparing her a glance while you navigated through the dense foliage with Ash trailing behind you.

She seemed to understand your point thought the unimpressed look she gave you made you want to abandon her in this wanderers infested island.

Yeah maybe you should do that .

But as you were concocting a plan to secretly ditch her and fly away with Ash in your head , A shrieking sound made you grab your gun quickly, eyes roaming around the tall trees as you and Ash almost sandwiched the hunter girl between your bodies , senses in high alert.

“Stay right behind me and don't move” you warned her , your voice low and controlled as your eyes scanned the surroundings area searching for any signs danger.

And then it came , from above a dragon-like wanderer surged from nowhere, his clawed limbs aiming straight toward the hunter girl behind you.

You quickly spun her around to fire at the beast but it dodged your attack with maddening ease.

Fuck.

“Another one!?” you heard her whisper in a ragged voice.

“An enormous one apparently” you spat before recharging your gun.

The dragon wanderer roared again before surging forward, his attack still aimed at the hunter girl.

Just what the fuck did it wanted from her ?

You and Ash continued to shoot at it but it seemed useless , the bullet ricocheted against his scales covered skin with ease.

Shit ,at this rate you'd have to use your evol.

You pulled on the trigger only to realize you no longer had bullets.

Crap

“Commander” you looked over Ash who was hiding behind a tree.

He shook his head , his own magazine empty.

Fuck what do we do ? You looked down at the grass covered ground your mind racing a mile per minutes.

“Maybe I can try to resonate with it” the hunter girl suggested making your gaze snap back at her.

“You have the resonance evol” you and Ash exclaimed at the same time making her look at you with a puzzled gaze .

“Yeah” she murmured, her head tilting slightly to the side in confusion .

You exchanged a knowing look with Ash , your mind conveying the same thoughts .

You'll have to use your evol . Unlike you two Ash wasnt an evolver and your evol , well you hated it or to be more franc you hated to use it because things always ended up spiralling out of control when you did.

But this time you didn't have any other choice and even if you absolutely despised this hunter you couldn't let her die .

Don't get you wrong , if she die it might look bad for your career.

“I am not going to ask you to trust me because I know you don’t and to be honest I do not either so are you ready to risk your life to get out of here Miss hunter?” You asked with an outstretched hand .

An invitation, a deal for the survival of you 3.

She looked longly at your hand before grasping it.

“well ,it's not like I have any other choice” she breathed out before squeezing your hand.

You let an half hearted chuckle before yanking her to her feet to step out from behind the tree you were hiding behind .

You heard the shrieking sound again before catching a glimpse of the dragon surging towards where you were standing .

You can do this. Don't think about the experiment , the thunder , the electroshocks.

Your eyes closed as you felt the burst of energy ran through your body , images of a young girl that wasn't you flashing through your eyes .

Caleb ? Why was he in those memories that weren't yours?

You heard the clap of thunder before the shrieking sound grew louder . Another clap , louder than the previous one and the shrieking sound turned into a faint howl.

You heard a distant call of your name but you couldn't respond, the image in front of you making your gut twist .

Caleb was gently cradling her cheeks as he wiped her tears . So this was what love feel like ?

You could feel everything: how his warm hands glided over her face , the faint words of reassurances he whispered to her , the light kisses he left against her temple . You could feel it all and it hurts, it hurts so bad it had you sinking on your knees.

So this is what it feels like to be loved ?

The sting of a slap wrenched you out of this loop of torture. The heart wrenching images of Caleb consoling his pipsqueak shattering in your mind .

You blinked your vision back only to see the hunter and Ash's concerned faces looking down at you .

“What happened?” You heard yourself ask, your voice sounded hoarse as your eyes roamed around to take on your surroundings . What was once a lush land of tree and foliage was now burned down to ashes.

“Where's the wanderer?” You questioned them

“Dead,” the hunter girl replied in a small and distant voice ,her eyes looking down in a way you didn't like at all .

“2 thunderclap was all it took” Ash added while avoiding your gaze

Why were they acting so strangely?

You hummed in response before standing up . Half of the forest was burned down leaving the giant wanderer laying on the center of it.

You approached it slowly , your steps deliberate as Ash and the hunter observed you from behind , their mind still struggling to comprehend what just happened.

When you were at the dead wanderer's level you crouched down to observe it more closely. A disgusting smell of burnt flesh was coming out of it , the nauseating scent so strong it had you pinching your nose .

But as you observed it ,a glowing light caught your attention making You lean in to take a closer look.

Only when you reached to touch it ,it exploded in a cloud of pink smoke that surrounded you.

You coughed out as you waved it off with your hands but only one whiff made your head spiral uncontrollably. It smelled so addictively good , the piney scent reminding you of Caleb ?

Huh? you quickly shook off your head ,hoping the smell would disappear but it persisted making your mind grow hazier by the seconds.

“Lieutenant” Ash shouted making your eyes snap back to his form who was already jogging towards where you were standing

“We need to leave” he breathed out making you nod in agreement

“Are you alright?” He asked , eyes squinting to observe you more closely, taking in the unusual flush of your cheeks.

“You are right let's go”

“Why wouldn't I be?” You retorted ,voice tenser than you intended. You internally winced at how his face fell at your harsh tone, his eyes darting away awkwardly.

“Let's just get the hell out of this island ” you added with one last glance at the wanderer’s corpse before starting walking ahead

Ash followed closely behind you , often shooting concerned glances your way as you headed back to the airplane.

Once inside your case worsened further . You felt your body growing more heated by the seconds, your tie feeling too tight around your neck.

You loosened it before running an hand through your hair . Miss hunter (that was the new nickname you gave her) keep shooting you curious glances along with Ash , finding your fidgeting unusual even for the short amount of time she has spent with you.

“Are we arriving soon?” You asked for the nth time, heavy pants leaving your parted lips as you leaned back in your seat.

Why did it feel so hot in here?

“We'll be landing in approximately 32 minutes” Ash responded to your question

32 minutes . that was far too long .You needed to breathe, to drink water , to see Caleb

Caleb ? no , not Caleb

“Fuck” you breathed out before taking off your jacket . The heat feeling too unbearable .

“Are you sure you're alright?” You heard the hunter ask again ,a hint of concern lacing her tone as she watched you struggle with unbuttoning the top 2 buttons of your shirt.

“I am fine” you replied but the way your head was spinning uncontrollably was clearly proving you wrong.

You brushed it off as a side effect of whatever that pink smoke was but when you landed it only worsened to the point you were stumbling toward your office room, leaving the debriefing to Commander Ash .

You still felt like you were burning up , every fiber of your being screaming for a man who didn't even want you need you the way you did.

You closed the door shut before walking over your chair to plop yourself on it.

“What have you done to me Caleb?” You sighed as you leaned your head against your chair , your eyes looking up at the white ceiling as if it had the answers to your questions but it didn't. No one did .

You let out another heavy sigh before discarding your tie on your desk to see if you'd finally breathe properly .

Just as you thought you might be getting some rest from this unbearable heat that have been creeping up on your body your door fled open revealing an angry Caleb .

The sight of him , especially mad made your whole body throb with an intensity that should be concerning but your mind was way too clouded to care.

He stepped closer to your desk , the clicking sounds of his boots along with your thumping heartbeat the only sounds registering in your mind.

“What makes you think taking her on such a dangerous mission was a good idea ?” You heard him say , his voice barely able to contain his anger.

His words cut sharply through your daze , your eyes blinking back to focus on anything but the way his face looked so distractingly attractive

“I didn't take her anywhere” you replied, your voice sounding way too calm and steady for someone who was literally burning in the inside “your pipsqueak boarded on that plane without permission like a grown up” you added earning a scoff from him .

“You expect me to believe she managed to pass all those security guards to board on a plane with you out of all people” he leaned in to rest his hands on your desk , his eyes shining with a possessive gleam that wasnt directed at you but got your heart rate spiking nonetheless .

“What ?” You tilted your head mockingly before raising from your seat to lean closer towards him “you expected me to put a gun on her temple to force her fly away with me on an wanderer infested island only to come back unscathed” you added in a heated whisper against his ear that had his jaw clenching .

“Think wisely Caleb” You scoffed before stepping away from him , attempting to put some distance between you , to quell down the hunger that stocked further inside you the more you inhaled the addictive scent of his cologne .

But Caleb wouldn't let you off the hook this easily . As you walked beside him to head to your office door , he pulled you towards him by wrapping his hand around your wrist.

An embarrassing squeal left your parted lips as you felt your back hit the wooden material of your desk .

“Have I ever told you that jealousy looks awful on you , Lieutenant?” You felt the ghost of his lips against your heated skin as he whispered the words against your neck .

“T-this has nothing to do with jealousy” you heaved out , already panting while he hasn't even touched you yet .

“It doesn't hm?” He purred against the soft flesh of your neck before biting on it hard enough to have you clawing at the edge of the desk “then why have you been avoiding me?”

The question made your eyes widen the suddenness of it too abrupt for your scrambled mind to process .

“Tell me , lieutenant” he pressed, his lips leaving a gentle kiss on the bruised skin he bit earlier .

“You have your pipsqueak back our deal is supposed to be over” you managed to get out between feverish pants.

The flash of disappointment you saw through his eyes had your resolve faltering but the fragment of memories you saw when you resonated with the hunter earlier strengthened it further .

Don't get caught up in illusions. This man wasn't yours.

The realization made a burst of anger spread throughout you , one that had you yanking his hair harshly until your lips crashed against his, all teeth and tongue , drinking him in like a thirsty man in desert that finally found water. Because he was your water , your light , a light that was bound to leave you .

A small hushed plea left your mouth as he parted his lips from yours to trail kisses down on your neck. His hands were everywhere , caressing any inch of smooth skin he could reach

Caleb kissed you back with the same fervor, his gloved hand wrapping lightly around your throat as his mouth devoured yours with a feral intensity. It was messy depraved and desperate.

Your own hands reached out to unbuckle his belt but he stopped you halfway , his hand moving swiftly to bound your wrists with your own discarded tie.

“No touching this time Lieutenant” he taunted, cupping your chin to make you look up at him , the feral gleam in his purple eyes making your cunt throb harder.

“Today you're all mine” he whispered before capturing your mouth in another heated kiss.

How you wished you could be his forever but this would never happen. You were just a sinner and he was your worst sin. The one who will drag you through the pits of hell.

The small kiss he left on your nose was the last thing you felt before he slid down to his knees in front of you , his large hands spreading your legs apart as you tried to steady yourself on top of the desk despite your bound wrists.

His fingers unzipped your pants before sliding them off you , leaving your legs bare for his hungry gaze to admire.

How he has missed this view .

“Look at her” he looked up at you as he ran a gloved thumb along your covered slit “so wet f'me already”

“Still as beautiful as ever , Lieutenant” you heard him whisper in awe, the compliment making you feel even dizzier while your cunt fluttered uncontrollably at his praises .

You could feel his infuriating smirk against your plush fold through the flimsy material of your panties . The way he was so close but so far away at the same time drove you wild in the best way possible.

“Caleb” you whimpered out , your pleading eyes looking down at him in an half hearted glare that made his cock twitch.

“What?” He smirked before peeking the drenched material of your panties in a way that had you throwing your head back .

“What do you need , darling?” The sound of him calling you darling made your hips buck against his face , the sinful moan escaping your lips sounding like music to his ear.

“I need you” the words felt more like a confession than anything and if it wasn't for that weird wanderer based substance in your system you'd probably feel pathetic for baring your soul to him like this but right now as his face was resting between your legs seconds away from feasting ,you didn't give a damn.

The regrets and sermons would come later when you were no longer aching and panting from him .

The heat of Caleb's mouth pulled you out of your musings, the overwhelming sensation making you cry out loud . He hasn't even bothered to take off your ruined panties , his mouth latching onto the flimsy material like he was starving.

He was merciless, the relentless pace making you squeal.

“Oh fuck just like that” you moaned, not even ashamed of the sounds you were making. His tongue rolled over your swollen bud over and over until you were practically in tears .

When you felt like you'd finally reach heaven ,a knock to your door made him stop, his eyes looking up to take in your form.

And shit. The sight of you spread out on your desk with your shirt half buttoned, your skin flushed with heat , panting with tears clinging to your waterline almost had him cumming in his pants .

Such a sight to behold and all for him to see.

Another knock on the door made him let out a small growl against you , clearly not pleased by being interrupted .

“Lieutenant” you heard a worried voice said from the other side “can I come in?”

Commander Ash? Your ears perked up .

Shit shit shit why is here ?

You looked down at Caleb who was already back to work , his fingers finally pulling your ruined panties to the side to suck , lick and nip at your sensitive flesh while you tried your best to stay quiet and gather your thoughts

“Lieutenant” Ash knocked once again “are you alright in there?” his voice was growing somewhat more restless.

“Respond darling” you felt Caleb's nip gently at your clit before looking up at you from where he was kneeling “it's so rude to leave someone hanging hm?” He spat right on your entrance before slurping down the mess.

“ngh_” the sight of him looking so devilishly at you nearly had you cumming right there on his face but he purposely slowed down his pace to maddening kitten licks so you would focus on responding Ash.

But that only made you more restless and frustrated .

“I am fine” you snapped , voice laced with frustration while the man below faintly chuckled before rewarding you with a flick of his tongue that made you groan .

You fought against your restraints so at least you would cover your mouth to muffle your sounds but no matter how hard you tried the knot wouldn't loosen .

Handsome bastard.

“Are you sure?” you heard Ash said , the confusion note in his tone not escaping Caleb's ears.

“You don't really sound well” the sound of the creaking handle made your heart rate pick up ,your stomach curling into knots with a mixture of fear and arousal that has fresh waves of your beading juices gushing around Caleb's tongue.

You didn't lock the door and he could barge in at any moment.

“Dirty girl” he muttered faintly against your plush folds , sticking strands connecting his lips to your pussy .

You bit down on your lips to not let out a loud moan , the squelching sounds of your cunt along with your barely concealed moans leaving no doubt of what was happening inside there . Thought one thing was clear , Ash was clearly wrestling with the handle that wouldn't budge Thanks to Caleb's evol.

“I am fine truly” you attempted to speak again but the way Caleb was making out with your lips below while his gloved hand rubbed tight circles around your clit made your words came out like breathy whimpers. “Just a bit busy”

You really hoped Ash would get the memo and get the fuck out here before you combusted .

“Ok then” he said, his tone sounding a tad disappointed “I'll see around Lieutenant”

Yeah you'll see her around now go .

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as the sound of Ash's eloigning footsteps finally disappeared leaving only you and the smirking man still buried nose deep between your thighs.

“You're such a dirty little thing , Lieutenant” he rasped out , flicking your clit one last time before raising to his full height .

“And you're such a tease” you scowled before feeling him unbound your wrists.

As soon as they were free you tugged him by his tie to capture his lips in a messy kiss , your mouth sucking lewdly on his tongue , tasting yourself on him.

“We both know you love that tease, darling” he mumbled out between kisses

“No I hate you” you denied ,your grip tightening hard enough on his tie to make him lightheaded and the fucked whimper that left his mouth as you did so made your cunt howl his name in morse code.

If only he knew how right he was

You could feel every hard planes of his body against yours ,even through the material of your half off uniform shirt , the intoxicating scent of his cologne making your head spin.

"Well , we can't say the same about your slutty pussy ,Lieutenant” he panted out with a smirk, his hands gripping your hips so hard they'd probably leave marks.

His words had your cheeks flaming a deeper shade of red but the way you felt your little bundle throb only proved his point

"Unlike you_" he slid his hand down to toy with your already sensitive clit "she's not a smartass" a silent scream left your lips as he curled one thick finger inside your gummy walls .

Your reached for his belt once again and this time he let you had your way, too busy eating out your face and fingering your cunt to stop your wandering hands.

Just this once . You heard this voice whisper again .

Caleb's head fell against your shoulder when he felt your soft hand wrap around his shaft to pump it slowly. Your pace matching his own .

It was hot and heavy in your hand, the leaking precum coating your palm in a sticky mess.

He bit down on the plush skin on your shoulder to muffle his sounds , his hips thrusting in time with your movements while his fingers massaged this spot in your walls over and over

Wanting to get your revenge on the stunt he pulled on you earlier , you slowed down your pace until you could hear his muffled whimpers against your shoulder.

“What's wrong?” You cooed , leaning your head back to stare at him , his cheeks were flushed the prettiest shade of pink , his hair tousled from your ministrations , his kiss bitten lips parted open to let out the hottest sounds you’ve ever heard .

You must been smiling too widely for his taste because the feral glare he shot you made you anything but scared , it only had you more turned on than ever.

But as always Caleb wouldn't let you savor your victory for too long , using his evol as the awful bastard he was to manipulate your hands until they were bound behind your back once again, his fingers slipping out of you with a lewd squelch.

“Nothing's wrong Lieutenant” he rasped out before pulling your legs to wrap tighter around his waist , his pinkish tip teasing your entrance.

“Just thinking about how hard_” he punctuated his words with a rough thrust that had you clawing at his shoulders , the sensation of him stretching your insides too overwhelming. “_I am going to take you” he added in a heated whisper before setting a brutal pace that had your desk shaking maddeningly , important papers scattering on the floor in a mess you'd have to worry about later.

Caleb's hips were merciless, fucking up into you like he hated your gut (as if he wasn't deep in them) . You clung to his uniform jacket sleeve for dear life , afraid you might slip but with how sandwiched you were between the wooden desk and his body you shouldn't be worrying about that.

“Oh fuck” you threw your head back when you felt him hit that exact spot that has you seeing stars , body arching into his to bring him closer. Your hand grabbed at his tie to pull him closer to you as his hips kept pistonning into yours .

“Yeah let me hear you, darling” he placed one hand on the desk beside you while the other pulled your leg over his hip to reach even deeper into you.

Every forceful thrust planted on the bulleyes of your G-spot has your grip tightening on his tie hard enough he could now see white spots blurring his vision .

You were gonna be the death of him , (literally) .

The smell of sex and skin slapping sounds filled the room along with your scream of pleasure and his breathy groans as he literally wrecked you , molding your insides to his shaft until all you can think about was him and only him .

“You squeeze me s’tight” he groaned against your neck , his hips not easing his pace for a second , not when your greedy pussy was sucking him back in so perfectly at every thrust .

His hand that was planted beside you , slid up to wrap around your neck , putting enough pressure on your throat to have your eyes roll in the back of your skull.

“Come for me” he whispered before ducking his head down to bite on the plush skin of your collarbone. The action had you screaming loudly, the waves of pleasure crashing you over you like a sea storm. It was violent, leaving you shaking for several seconds as he continued to drive himself deeper into you , not even stopping when he reached his own high . Sensitive shaft twitching uncontrollably as he painted your insides white .

“Take it all , darling” he whimpered in the crook of your neck , puncturing every words by a sharp bite of his canines.

You sobbed in overstimulation. Your head resting against his chest as you murmured soft pleads for him to stop.

“Shh” he shushed you while kissing away your tears with a gentleness that contrasted his hips below “just take it”

He licked your tears away before kissing you with an unusual tenderness while he continued to fuck you roughly.

You cried out as your second orgasm washed over you ,your whole body convulsing against his as your hand practically tore his uniform jacket with how good it hurts.

Caleb's body jerked against yours, his head dropping in the crook of your neck as he reached his peak for a second time , pace finally slowing down to let you breathe.

You stayed like this for several minutes, wrapped in each other's embrace as you desperately tried to catch your breath.

As the fluffy cloud of pleasure dissipated the ugly truth came back to slap you right back on your face .

You succumbed to the sweet temptation Caleb was once again. Even as you promised yourself you wouldn't get involved with him again , here you were half naked with him still buried deep inside of you.

You attempted to push him off you , the action making him raise his head from the crook of your neck to shoot you a confused look.

The audacity to appear confused. You scoffed internally.

“You should go” you heard yourself say , your voice sounding hoarse from screaming his name too loudly .

His brow knitted together, clearly struggling to understand your point .

“It'll be troublesome if someone find you here” you explained calmly , acting as if he wasnt ramming into you 5 minutes ago.

“I am aware” he replied with that same confused note in his tone, still not making any moves to get the fuck off you.

“Then get off” you glared at him causing him to sigh

“You're trying to run away again” he caressed your legs softly with a pensive look in his eyes.

“I am not trying to run away, you dirtied me with your seed and I just want yo go the bathroom so get the fuck off me” you scowled stil trying to push him away .

Your words earned a barely muffled laugh from him. His eyes gleaming with barely concealed amusement.

“I am sorry” he left a small kiss on your nose that made your heart melt “I thought you'd enjoy the mess”

“Well I don't, so get off” you let out in a small grumble

“You're always so bossy , Lieutenant” he chided softly before picking you up making you wrap your arm tightly around his neck .

“You should ease up a little” he added , carrying you towards your personal bathroom to clean you up.

“And you should know by now that I don't take advices from you” you bit back .

The only thing you should ease is probably a gun down his throat.

“Sure you don't” he said with a small smirk before pushing the bathroom door open with his feet to get you inside.

After cleaning you up in a remotely peaceful silence , Caleb left you alone in your office to muse on your thoughts.

Just when will this madness end?

Just when will you stop being so attached to him? The response was clear : never because no matter how much he hurt you? And how hard you tried to stay away from him. You'll always find your way back . Like a drug addict , you were addicted to him. Addicted to his poison . A poison that will probably end up killing you

The end (or no)

BAM .

Taglist : @cheezeandkrackers @dollyvheart @gazelover666 @miyuki-hanna @cordidy @full-sunnies @aise-30 @vvintqz @tavviet @sanghyuksgasolinestationscream

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lnds #Caleb #Lads #Lads Caleb #Caleb smut #Caleb x reader #Lnds Caleb #Caleb x you #Love and deepspace #Fic #Smut #Lilieswrite #Caleb x MC #Caleb x OC

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sylusonychinus · 4 months ago

Text

Coming in for a Landing

Summary: Caleb and plane you get it

Pairings: Caleb x Reader

a/n: came up with this headcannon while talking to @jinwoosbabyboo <3 this is specially for you sweetie

Chibi Caleb who treats the house like his personal airspace. He has designated "no-fly zones" (like the bathroom when someone’s using it) and "high turbulence areas" (any room with a ceiling fan on).

Chibi Caleb who gets stuck in the ceiling fan at least once a week. He flies too high, miscalculates, and—bonk—his tiny plane spins out of control, leaving him dangling by his seatbelt, yelling, “Ground crew, I need an emergency rescue!”

Chibi Caleb who kamikazes into cups of water. He’ll zoom across the kitchen, lose control, and—splash! His tiny plane nose-dives into my drink. He then climbs out, shaking off water, muttering, “Hydraulic system failure… need repairs.”

Chibi Caleb who steals snacks mid-flight. He flies low over the counter, reaches out of his cockpit, and yoinks a cookie before speeding away. If I try to stop him, he yells, “Aerial refueling complete! Returning to cruising altitude!”

Chibi Caleb who parks his plane on your keyboard while I’m working. He’ll roll up, set the parking brake, and say, “This is my new gate. Please do not disturb the aircraft while passengers deplane.” Then he just sits there, eating a tiny bag of peanuts.

Chibi Caleb who plays air traffic controller when his plane is under maintenance. If his plane is "broken" (aka he’s just resting), he’ll make me do hand signals before he lets me touch anything. If I don’t do it right, he refuses to let me "fix" his aircraft.

Chibi Caleb who does dramatic crash landings on pillows. If I’m sitting peacefully, he’ll suddenly scream, “ENGINE FAILURE! BRACE FOR IMPACT!” before nose-diving into my lap. Then he’ll just lay there like a ragdoll until I "tow" his plane back to the hangar.

Chibi Caleb who uses your backpack as a makeshift hangar. If I leave it open, he’ll taxi inside, shut the flap, and call it his maintenance bay. If I try to take my stuff out, he’ll yell, “Unauthorized personnel! Security breach at Hangar 5!”

Chibi Caleb who treats my cat like an air marshal. He’ll land his plane next to the cat, salute, and say, “Welcome aboard, Officer Whiskers. You’re in charge of security.” The cat just blinks and walks away while Caleb takes off again.

Chibi Caleb who insists on having a control tower. If I stack some books into a tower shape, he’ll fly past and ask for landing clearance. If I don’t respond immediately, he yells, “Tower, do you copy?! I’m running low on fuel here!”

Scene 1: The Coffee Spill Disaster

I’m sitting peacefully, sipping my morning coffee, when I hear the faint sound of tiny propellers whirring. Before I can react—

Chibi Caleb: "Diving in for an emergency water landing!"

His miniature plane zooms straight toward my mug, and before I can move it, he skims the surface, sending coffee sloshing over the rim. He pulls up just in time, avoiding a full crash, but the damage is done.

Me: "Caleb! You just splashed coffee all over my desk!" Chibi Caleb: "The rescue mission was a success! The crew survived! Minor turbulence, but we’ll recover!"

He shakes off a few coffee droplets and taxis away like nothing happened.

Scene 2: The Ceiling Light Incident

Chibi Caleb is on a high-altitude mission, circling the living room at full speed. He climbs higher and higher—until suddenly—

Bonk.

His tiny plane smacks into the hanging ceiling light, sending him spiraling into an uncontrolled descent.

Chibi Caleb: "MAYDAY! MAYDAY! CONTROL SYSTEM FAILURE!"

I rush forward just in time to catch him mid-air. He blinks up at me, a little dizzy.

Chibi Caleb: "Phew… good thing I had a parachute."

Me: "You did not have a parachute. I caught you."

Chibi Caleb: "Same thing."

He gives me a thumbs up before wriggling out of my hands to take off again.

Scene 3: The Unscheduled Cat Landing

Chibi Caleb is doing low-altitude maneuvers over the couch when suddenly, my cat leaps onto the armrest—directly in his flight path.

Chibi Caleb: "Oh no! Uncharted terrain ahead!"

He tries to pull up, but it’s too late. He belly-flops onto the cat’s back, clinging to his tiny plane as the cat freezes in place. For a moment, there is only silence.

Then—

The cat rockets across the room, shaking wildly, trying to dislodge the surprise "passenger." Caleb yells in delight.

Chibi Caleb: "Unexpected turbulence! Hold on to your seatbelts, folks!"

After a few wild spins, the cat finally manages to fling him off onto a pillow. He lands with a soft thud and sits up, grinning.

Chibi Caleb: "That was the best ride EVER!"

The cat glares at him and storms away. Caleb simply dusts himself off and gets right back into his plane.

Scene 4: The Sneaky Midnight Flight

I’m lying in bed, about to drift off, when I hear the faintest little whirrrrrr from above. I crack one eye open to see a tiny silhouette zipping across the room.

Me: "Caleb… what are you doing?"

Chibi Caleb: "Shhh… this is a top-secret night mission. Just routine patrols."

He swoops under my blanket, loops around my pillow, then lands gently on my nightstand.

Chibi Caleb: "Refueling break."

He climbs out of his cockpit, grabs a stray cracker from my snack stash, and munches quietly. Then, as if nothing happened, he hops back into his plane and takes off again, flying low to avoid my swatting hands.

Me: "Go. To. Sleep."

Chibi Caleb: "Sorry, Captain, I have a strict flight schedule."

I sigh, roll over, and accept the fact that tiny planes will be buzzing through my room for the rest of the night.

#caleb love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #caleb #lnds caleb #caleb x mc #caleb lnds #lnds #loveanddeepspace #lnd caleb

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minkdelovely · 1 year ago

Text

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter seven

“so let me show you how to touch my trigger.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: valentino lol, semi-consensual touching ; licking ; and undressing, descriptions of repulsion, violent tearing of clothes, power dynamics, people pleasing tendencies *hopelessly devoted to you plays in the distance*, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 3.9k

author’s note: the longest chapter to date, but i had a lot of fun with this one. valentino is a naughty, naughty overlord… ❤️‍🔥 i think this is my favorite chapter k luv u

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Lying in bed, you lingered on the dull ache pulsing through your body; blood turning to fire in your veins as you recalled how you ended up here. A sobering worry trickled after it as you stared at the canopy above, as if it could provide an answer.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

That morning…

The couple of days that passed since Alastor broke the news of his bargain with Valentino went by without incident. It had been a nice change of pace settling back into a more familiar routine, with mornings and evenings reserved for tending to Alastor and the afternoons with your housemates. You were really beginning to look forward to your time with them now, a pleasant way to break up the monotony of work.

Your heart stuttered then, reminding you that today would be different.

You weren’t sure what Alastor had said to Charlie to get you out of the hotel today, as all he told you was that it had been handled. Thankfully she hadn’t cornered you to ask about it since you wouldn’t know what to say if she did. You knew you wouldn’t be able to lie to her, but there was definitely no way you could have told her the truth.

Alastor had no doubt fibbed about why he required you with him for the whole day, the honest explanation simply too much of a blotch on his pride to admit to. Besides, there would be no way to avoid how he had ended up in this predicament without admitting to what you had done. Husk and Angel had kept their word and you were still so grateful that they were the only ones to see you that morning. It had even become somewhat of an inside joke between the three of you.

But the thought of Charlie finding out… Your cheeks burned with shame and you shook your head to try and clear your mind. It was handled. She didn’t know about it. That was all it needed to be.

You peaked over at Alastor’s place on the balcony, making sure he hadn’t seen you working through this as you dusted one of his many bookshelves stocked with titles you didn’t recognize. He had enjoyed teasing you about that, as if niche books about the mechanics of broadcasting and the occult should have made their way into the American education system by the time you were attending.

Mercifully he was buried in the newspaper, incoherently grumbling to himself as his fingers tore into it like it owed him a debt. Testy. And also on his third cup of coffee… not a good sign. But that was to be expected today, the edge you’ve felt building around him since the other day finally coming to a peak.

Alastor had elaborated somewhat in regard to what he meant by concessions, stating that he had to concede to Valentino’s desire to make a final decision in exchange for leaving Angel Dust out of the fray. Knowing what little pieces you did about the relationship between them, you couldn’t help but be thankful that this would be one less thing for Angel to worry about. On the other hand, it also made you increasingly nervous about what Valentino might resolve to do.

Was Alastor worried about it, too?

Your imagination went into overdrive then, pulse crashing through you with fear of the unknown. What if he wanted to hurt you — how would he do it if he did? Angel didn’t go into the details, but it was more than possible for Valentino to be violent with you considering how he liked to treat his employees. You nearly gagged on the word just thinking it and the blatant lack of respect Valentino had towards the kept when something else came to mind.

What if he wanted to put you in one of his movies as a way of making up for Donny’s absence? Apparently he was taking a longer time than expected to heal…

If you were forced to choose, you’d opt for his brutality; a beating you could take, and there were only so many ways to accomplish the goal. But you knew the options were endless when it came to the videos Valentino produced and it filled you with a sense of dread. Not that you were a prude, but putting yourself on display like that wasn’t something you felt comfortable with even just to start. Who knows what kind of situation he’d want you in? It really could be anything.

And what would Alastor be able to do about it? Would he even have a choice… would he care?

The sudden feeling of a hand on your shoulder caused you to jump, the ghost of a scream catching in your throat as the feather duster clattered to the floor. A small but firm squeeze followed with surprising comfort, holding you steady.

“Your heartbeat is distracting,” Alastor said softly from behind you through thinly veiled irritation. It was a fact you could have done without. Did you have nothing for yourself anymore? You were about to respond when he continued. “You can retire to your room now. I’ll come by to collect you when it’s time to leave… and you’d better not change clothes.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The V Tower was an ominous place once you stood in front of it.

It had always been an eye-catching building — something you would never admit to Alastor — the array of purple, pink, and blue neon lights vivacious against the otherwise bleak and decrepit backdrop of Pentagram City. Its elegant round shape, amass of windows, and cleanliness making it striking enough to earn the title of landmark. But it was a place ever on the horizon, need never driving you to approach its doors. Until now.

Meeting here was no doubt another part of the deal, your nerves fraying at the thought of Alastor’s position. It was clear that he wished to be anywhere else, not out of fear but fury. The sharpness in his red eyes fit to kill, his smile so tight you were amazed he hadn’t shattered a fang. Even his hair seemed to stand a bit on edge. Was he really in such a bad spot that he had to concede to this much? The thought alone made your chest tight, but you were resolved to do whatever you needed to keep up your part in all of this.

A Robo Fizz emerged from the doors and approached, moving in sharp fluid movements before stopping in front of the two of you. It gave you a quick up-and-down before pivoting back to the doors, signaling for you to follow, the mechanical sound of its movements the only thing hanging in the heavy silence besides your pair of footsteps like a death knell. You passed through the bright bustling lobby, covered in posters and advertisements for various products and movies, heading straight to an eerily austere elevator which took you to the top of the building.

With a pleasant ding the elevator door opened up to golden hallway, lined with purple light fixtures and rounded archways that broke up the space between several doorways. Somehow the heart moulding at the base of each column and the upper wall managed to feel sinister rather than sweet. Despite its lavish appearance, the absence of love here was palpable. You shivered and inched closer to Alastor as you finally approached the large doorway at the end of the hall, purple adorned with an ornate golden design that was reminiscent of wings.

The Robo Fizz stood off to the side, the two women flanking the double doors opening them for you with a silent bow. Alastor placed his hand on your shoulder, slightly cupping the back of your neck, but it was all tension, no comfort.

This was it.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Aww, you two have matching resting-creepy-face! How sweet,” Valentino cooed, glowing eyes the only thing you could make out through a plume of red smoke. His voice, dripping with a saccharine menace, was enough to distract you from the bite of Alastor’s claws.

“Don’t push it, Valentino,” Alastor warned tightly, the static growl underneath it not quite hidden.

The moth demon emerged from the smoke with a haughty laugh, towering over the both of you with an impressive height. So this was Valentino. It galled you to admit, but he was striking, to say the least.

Dressed in a tight black blazer with white pants and a gold-plated heart-shaped belt, he was lavender-skinned and lean; a scarf of downy white feathers embellished with pinkish-red hearts encompassed his smug face adorned with translucent pink heart-shaped glasses rimmed in gold. His garish hat was a saving grace, something you could laugh at with Angel once you had returned to the safety of the hotel. You noticed that one of his antennae was bare, the other a blend of black and white feathers. Though it took you a moment to realize that it wasn’t a red cape, but wings cascading down to the floor behind him.

He crossed his arms — of which he had four — and sauntered toward you, his pink-fanged smile giving you a chill it was so predatory. You felt Alastor stiffen slightly next to you at the approach, but he brought you forward with him all the same. Had he not been with you, you weren’t confident that you wouldn’t have given into the instinct to flee.

With a quick movement Valentino took your hand in his and brought it up to his mouth, giving it a sloppy, wet, languid lick in what you assumed was a greeting. It took all you had not to recoil and wipe off the magenta-hued saliva, your only tether being Alastor’s presence behind you, but the silent shriek clamoring in your lungs was deafening all the same. You understood that this was all part of their game and gave yourself a reminder to maintain as brave a face as you could. More than anything, you realized, was that you really did want to make Alastor proud.

“Mmm, she’s tasty, flaco. Adorable, too — just look at those pouty lips! You’d never think she could tear out a throat by looking at her. I must say, the footage was… electrifying,” Valentino purred, leaning down to inspect you, his breath in your face smoky and sweet with tobacco. You fought to maintain eye contact but faltered, blood rushing to your face as you squirmed under his hungry gaze, drawing out another laugh from him. “And shy? How novel. What’s your name, querida?”

“Sylvie,” Alastor responded tersely, not giving you the chance. His grip on you now was harsh enough to bruise, no doubt channeling all of his discomfort into it. You’d suffer it for as long as you needed to, a conviction that raised an alarm somewhere deep in your mind. “Now that introductions have been made, shall we discuss your plan of action?”

Valentino smirked, blowing another waft of cigarette smoke in your direction.

“Well, you don’t waste time, do you? Not a fan of foreplay? It can be the best part you know.” He was speaking to Alastor but kept his focus on you; impossible to miss the insinuation in his pink grin, his mind was clearly already at work with ideas. He only broke eye contact to shout, “Kitty! Bring some refreshments for our little Sylvie and keep her company. Alastor and I have business.”

The Robo Fizz, apparently called Kitty, appeared and disappeared as quickly as it had been summoned. Valentino walked toward the door, giving you one final, avid look as he passed you. You finally allowed yourself to glance up at Alastor but he was honed in on the Overlord. From what you could glimpse of his face — his jaw taut — you found yourself somewhat relieved that you wouldn’t be with them while they negotiated; though you still felt uneasy at being left to wait here in Valentino’s penthouse, knowing that when they came back it would be with your fate in their hands.

Alastor turned to you before following Valentino out, leaning down to speak quietly into your ear. “Take even a sip of whatever that creature brings you and I promise to punish you myself.”

The only thing that stopped you from objecting against the insult was a quick touch to your chin, silencing you without a word.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Valentino was sat at his desk, Alastor across from him in the tackiest chair he'd ever had the displeasure to be in.

The office was dressed to be just as gaudy as its owner and smelled intensely of tobacco and the unmistakable miasma the moth demon naturally exuded; a sickly combination of scents that made Alastor want to retch, it was such an assault on his senses. He couldn’t fucking wait to get out of here… Something about the entire building made him feel like a caged animal.

“I want her neck,” Valentino said abruptly, flicking his lighter open to smoke a fresh cigarette. He exhaled with a laugh, taking in Alastor’s intense face at the proposition. “Relaaax, flaquito! Not to eat, though that would be poetic. I just wanna taste her. She smells divine, too, it’s a shame I know you won’t trade. I’d definitely have more fun with her than you are, that’s for sure. Not having her walk around dressed like some bitch off Little House on the Prairie.”

The reference was lost on the Radio Demon, but he bristled all the same. Up until now, the only ones who had been able to smell you were himself and Hellborn (he had made this deduction after Charlie had commented on it once). He had been content with that, making him feel part of an exclusive group sharing in on something unobtainable to others. Which only made Valentino’s awareness of it that much more infuriating.

But the desire for him to taste of you… That was crossing a line.

“You’d waste this opportunity on something meager like that?” Alastor asked, feigning nonchalance as he folded his hands over his knee. It was the only thing keeping him from reaching over to throttle Valentino’s feather-covered neck. “And to think I’ve been worried these last couple days!”

Valentino chucked, low and dark, his fanged grin one of preemptive victory. “Call it what you want, but I know you like to play coy. Honestly, I was just gonna shoot her in front of you, but I’ve changed my mind. Let me have a taste and you’re free to go, charges dropped. Deal?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You were clinging to Alastor’s arm like a lifeline, surprised but grateful that he hadn’t peeled you off of him yet. Maybe it was a consolation, maybe he was too wrung out from the day to care. Either way, you let the comfort of it sink into you like a balm.

Neither of you had spoken since you left V Tower, separately processing what took place once the men had reached an agreement. Remembering how he pulled you to the side while Valentino sipped a drink, boxing you in and speaking to you in a voice so low it felt like a tryst. The apology that couldn’t pass his lips was said with his eyes instead. But there was bitterness there, too, enough for the both of you.

I will rectify this somehow, he said with silent words.

You don’t need to, you silently said back.

It was the price you needed to pay for this to all finally be over, to stop seeing that look in his eye. Touching as it was, you knew he couldn’t stand it and so it gave you no pleasure. Every second that passed without resolution was another hit to his pride, which he cherished above all things. You wanted him to have that again so badly it felt like a live flame in your stomach. So you demonstrated to him how much you meant it, going to Valentino without fuss.

You could still feel the way his fingers easily undid the button of your collar, the tug of release as the zipper pulled down enough for him to pull the fabric away from your neck. He took his time with you, taunting Alastor with every small gesture. Two hands firm on your hips, the other two cupping your face, even sparing a moment to tuck back your hair. The rapturous groan that rumbled in his chest as he buried his face in your neck, breathing so deep you felt the smallest piece of your soul go with it, lost forever to Valentino like flicking a coin into a well.

How his laugh echoed in your ear at your rigidity when the tip of his tongue prodded the skin of your neck and the small shriek that jerked out of you from the shock. You could hear static with your heartbeat then, low and humming from the corner Alastor had reserved himself to; either forced to watch or refusing to leave. You couldn’t tell him not to worry, so you resolved to show him that you were okay, slowly relaxing in Valentino’s arms as his tongue and mouth explored your neck. Goosebumps prickling your skin like a million needles.

You couldn’t be sure how long you were subjected to it, the seconds seemed to pass like years. But you stood your ground and let him have his prize, which he relished with a fervor that made you feel cold. It took all you had not to run back to Alastor once it was all over, knowing that you needed to act like you still had every ounce of your dignity, not only for yourself but for your keeper whom you wished to honor.

Could he feel how protected you still felt? How repulsed you had been?

When I closed my eyes, it wasn’t Valentino there but…

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The two of you had finally made it back to the hotel, the lobby mercifully empty as you made your way to the elevator. Alastor felt you relax against him as soon as the doors opened on your floor, as if you’d been holding your breath. He could understand the sentiment, himself just as desperate to get back to his own room.

Alastor had allowed you to hold onto him, finding an odd reassurance in the gesture, but his limit was reached. He had been simmering for the last couple days, ever since that frivolous idea came to him on his walk to Cannibal Town. The meeting with Valentino had upset him enough that he was able to push it down, but it had been relentlessly picking at his subconscious as the days passed.

The nights were the worst, and the demon was spending more and more time in his secondary room or the radio tower just to escape the torment of your scent that permeated his suite. And just when he was managing to calm down it would be morning, and there you’d be at his door with a punctuality that was boarding sadistic. But he was doing well, holding it all back.

Until Valentino swallowed you whole.

Alastor vowed to never sleep again, knowing well what nightmares would come with it. Perhaps it would have been better to let that sleazy imbecile shoot you, after all. It was a sentiment he didn’t fully mean, but there was enough truth in it to sting with remorse. He could tell that you hadn’t reveled in the moth’s ministrations, but your scent betrayed the carnal nature of the act.

In fact, that was mostly what he wished to get away from. Your arousal — heady with a dizzying warm, floral musk — had clung to you the entire way home, testing his resolve with every step. Had he been in a better mood he might have found it funny, how worked up you were. But this was onerous and persistent, and if anything, seeming to grow instead of dissipate. Blooming.

Something occurred to him then, turning his blood to ice.

You had just pulled away, the door to your room partially open now, when you turned to look up at him with a look in your eyes he hadn’t seen before. It was so demure it felt obscene. And just like this morning, your heart was clamoring against your ribs like a sickening lullaby. The pink flush on your cheeks seeping down your neck, or was it the other way around?

Without thinking, Alastor tore the collar of your dress, the sound of ripping fabric deafening in the air between you. You began to protest but he was too riled to care as the shadow of his branch-like horns fell over you, his eyes losing the struggle against the urge to switch. He tugged at the hair near the nape of your neck, the sharp sound of your breath catching as he leaned in burning straight through to his gut, more so than the sting to this nostrils. He was right.

Valentino had laced his pheromones onto you.

“Son of a bitch…!” he spat, nearly shoving you to the floor as he recoiled, his shadow pulling away from behind him with a hiss over his shoulder.

This was dangerous.

“Alastor, what’s wrong?” you cried, clearly shaken as you backed up into your room; tears forming in the corner of your eyes as you took in the wild look that was no doubt on his face. Were you terrified of him now, like you had been the other night? It was a thrilling thought.

He couldn’t help but follow, slamming the door shut behind him without grace, heaving against the wildfire that was eating away at his self control. Blood in the water. That’s what it felt like, an all-consuming hunger that could only be sated with one thing. Despite himself, over these last couple days he had thought of all sorts of ways he could have you, not even the most ravaging being like this. He never could have imagined this…

I’ll fucking tear that scheming bastard apart!

Suddenly your hands were on his chest, trembling but firm; gazing up at him with eyes awash with fear and determination. You were so stubborn, foolish. Would you ever not be? You had the same look before you walked into Valentino’s arms, too.

Alastor’s hands traveled up, cupping your face and neck so easily. He held you like this… The thought was like acid to his already frayed nerves. You felt so precious, so fragile in his hold, but he feared he could no longer fight back against the tempest of desire to consume you.

Because that’s what it was.

He wanted you to unravel in his hands, wanted to pick at the hem of your resolve and see what came spilling out. And it would be all for him. Only for him. He wanted to relish the sounds, the smell, the taste. To take that sullen look ever-present in your face and shatter it, make it yield. The culmination of his wicked work.

“Alastor, please… let me help. Whatever it is, I’ll do it, just let me help you,” you said, barely above a whisper, your small hands now wrapped around his wrists. A single tear fell from your eye and forced itself beneath his thumb with a pleasant burn.

He squeezed his eyes closed and took a shuddering breath, willing them to return to their normal red when he opened them again; wanting to be himself as much as he could in this. Words couldn’t accomplish what he needed to convey.

So he leaned down to capture your mouth with his instead.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

UH OH, YOU SAID THE DANGEROUS THING. SMUT NEXT CHAPTER💅🏻✨

ps: just in case anyone isn’t familiar with some of the spanish here 💖

‘flaco/flaquito’ can function as a nickname and is commonly used as a term said in jest or endearment meaning ‘skinny’ (though it can also be used as an insult lol — there’s definitely a bit of both happening here).

 ‘querida’ is a little more loaded, meaning various things like ‘dear, love/my love/lover, darling’ and was a more intense choice since it’s normally used in a hyper-affectionate way (i.e. towards your wife) but i thought it fit nicely here as part of valentino’s intimidation (and i imagine it’s a phrase he uses when he wants to love bomb).

 sadly i am not fluent in spanish, but being part of a mexican family/household helps lol i just figured i would share so you can get more of a feel for valentino’s dialogue cuz it was really fun to write.

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #slow burn #alastor slow burn #song fic #if i can’t have love i want power #love and power #x reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin hotel slow burn #alastor x reader slow burn

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olis-inkwell-symposium · 2 months ago

Text

What Writing Taught Me About Dealing With Grief

Grief isn’t poetic. It doesn’t arrive in neat metaphors or with a sorrowful violin humming in the background. It crashes in like an avalanche, sudden and all-consuming, stripping everything bare, leaving behind a silence so loud it drowns out the rest of the world.

For a long time, I avoided confronting my grief. I buried it beneath distractions, hoping that by creating a distance between myself and the weight of my emotions, I could suffocate it beneath the noise. However, grief doesn’t remain buried; it waits, lingering in the pause between breaths and the hollow feeling of a familiar place missing a familiar presence. It transforms absence into something alive, something with teeth. Writing didn’t exactly "rescue me;" it didn't dissolve that ache or provide closure in some revelatory conclusion...

It simply offered me a means to confront my grief on my own terms, allowing me to express all the words I had suppressed and lay them out openly. Writing enabled me to say, “Not today,” and on some days, that was enough.

Grief Demands to Be Heard

Now if you don't know, grief isn’t a patient process. It doesn’t fade away like some old wound; it shatters your world, breaks you down, and intrudes abruptly into the midst of our 'carefully constructed' lives. It never cares about the timing or whether you have things to attend, responsibilities to fulfill, or if you believe you’ve already found peace with it.

I spent years trying to drown out the pain by filling my days with the usual suspects; trying to numb the edges with distractions, hoping that if I kept moving fast enough, it wouldn’t catch up. However, writing forced me to come to a halt. People often talk about “processing” grief as if it’s a tidy, linear process, like filing paperwork in a system designed to manage emotions effectively. But writing grief is not like that. It’s not some elegant unraveling of pain that leads to understanding. Instead, it’s more like sitting across from it at a table, staring into something vast and untamed, and asking, “What do you want from me?”

Writing doesn’t diminish grief or soften its sharpness. However, it provides it with a tangible form—something I can grasp, scrutinize, and illuminate. And occasionally, making it visible becomes sufficient to prevent it from consuming me entirely.

You Can’t Control Grief—Or the Words

Grief is a spectrum of unpredictable, unstructured emotions that forgo common simplifications. This isn't about refining chaos; it’s about giving it a space to exist beyond your own mind. If you don’t allow it to do so, it will continue to grow and consume you. And the worst part? Grief does these things in a way that mirror your own; it's when I put those words on the page, I regain some of my power. I can see grief for what it really is—distorted reflections of my pain, not my reality.

Which is why through my characters, I hope to challenge this idea. I wanna write individuals who have been shattered yet rise above their struggles. I want to portray people who grieve, rage, and fall apart, yet they endure and don’t succumb to the overwhelming weight of their sorrow. By writing about their survival, I hope to find solace in remembering my own resilience.

Writing about your grief is an act of defiance. It's standing in the aftermath of something intended to shatter you and asserting, “I am still here.” Serving as a testament that grief does not have the final say in the narrative’s conclusion.

Grief lies, but writing tells my truth.

There’s No Moving On—Only Moving Forward

No one ever tells you that closure is a myth. It’s a comforting notion people utter to make grief appear manageable, a concept with a clear beginning and end. However, grief doesn’t simply fade away. It doesn’t transform into a faint echo in the distance. Instead, it undergoes transformations, adopting new forms, yet it never truly vanishes. This realization has taught me that the objective isn’t to “move on.” Instead, it’s to keep moving forward.

Grief isn’t a temporary phase; it’s a lasting chapter that shapes the rest of your life. You don’t simply leave it behind; you learn to carry it with you. And that’s not a sign of failure; it’s a testament to survival. Writing gives the weight of my grief a purpose. It transforms what would otherwise feel heavy, directionless, and overwhelming into something tangible. It doesn’t erase the loss, but it transforms it into something that doesn’t merely hold me back; it propels me forward.

A Letter to Grief

If you’ve never done it, try writing a letter to your grief. Not the polite kind, but the raw and unfiltered one. Express your anger, your exhaustion, and your sorrow. Even acknowledge the reluctant gratitude, even though you don’t want to. Because here’s the truth: grief doesn’t get to dictate the outcome. You do.

Writing Is Defiance

Grief is relentless. It seeps into the spaces left behind, into the places where something once was, and it dares you to believe there is nothing left worth salvaging. But every time you write, you push back. You reclaim a part of yourself from the silence. Writing about grief isn’t about solving it.

It’s about revealing what’s real—that grief will be quite unbearable, yet within that, it's still survivable. That it's something you carry, not something that defines you. Writing itself didn’t heal me, no, but it gave me clarity. It reminded me that even in thosr moments when your grief is the loudest thing in the room; there is impact amongst our encounters as human and we're left to express what our predecessors couldn't say.

So write your grief. Let it be raw, untamed, unfiltered. Spill it onto the page without worrying about making it neat. And when you’re done, step back and remember this: You are still here. You are still standing. Grief doesn’t get to take over you.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writer community #writerscommunity #queer writers #creative writers #writerblr #writerscorner #writers #creative writing #grief writing #writing with grief #authors of tumblr #writing tips #writer tips #emotional writing #novel writing #writer #writing guide

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xvazx · 27 days ago

Text

The Beauty of Our Chaos

Part 11 - Cold Feet

Prev. Part / Next Part

The door creaked open softly. I didn’t need to look up—I knew the shuffle of their shoes, the way Kaylee always dropped her purse too loud, the little humming Mariel did when she had sugar in her system.

“Babe?” Mariel’s voice was gentle as she sat on the edge of my bed.

Kaylee hovered in the doorway before walking in with a pint of cookie dough and a plastic spoon.

They took one look at my red eyes and didn’t ask questions—not right away.

Mariel lightly touched my hair, brushing it back from my damp cheek. “What happened?”

I exhaled, sitting up a little. “It went to hell.”

So I told them—everything. The way Luigi brought up those rumors, how he wrapped his questions in charm and curiosity but made me feel like a case file. How he tried to research my life like it needed decoding.

“I just…” I wiped under my eyes. “What if I overreacted?”

“You didn’t.” Kaylee sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, her face serious for once. “He took a bad approach.”

“But he’s not wrong about one thing,” I admitted quietly. “Nobody here really knows anything about me. Mostly Mariel.”

“And it took me months to gain your trust,” Mariel said with a nod. “You’re not a glass cabinet. You’re allowed to have boundaries.”

“It’s just… I thought maybe this one would be different,” I whispered. “And I was this close to letting my guard all the way down.”

Kaylee leaned forward, flicking me on the forehead. “You could be an alien and I’d still defend you. You’re the coolest chick I’ve ever met. Martian or not.”

I gave her a small, watery smile. “Thanks, Kay.”

“Anyway,” I muttered, rubbing at my eyes again, “I think that’s it. I knew it would crash eventually. Too good, too fast.”

“Let it cool for a while,” Mariel suggested. “You’re both too heated to talk right now. Give it time.”

Kaylee grabbed the paper bag and pulled out more pints of ice cream, all slightly melty.

“And in the meantime,” she said, offering me one of them, “we eat our feelings.”

Great.

“Should we add Criminal Minds to the healing plan?” Mariel asked, already rising from the bed. “I say Gubler-directed episodes only.”

Perfect.

“Now that is dirty talk,” I joked, finally cracking a real smile.

Kaylee scrunched her nose. “Are those the scary ones?”

“Oh babe,” I said, standing up and taking the ice cream from her. “They’re absolutely the scary ones. Come on.”

We migrated to the TV room. Mariel queued up an episode, and soon enough, we were half crying, half gasping as the BAU solved impossible cases with creepy UnSubs.

“Okay but seriously,” Kaylee said between bites of mint chip, “Reid is too hot to be fictional. It’s unfair.”

“Indeed,” Mariel chimed in, “men are not made like that.”

“Watch it girls,” I said, licking rainbow sherbet from my spoon and using it as a weapon to point at the girls. “I love you but is my man you are thirsting over.”

Midway through episode two, the inevitable came up.

“So… tomorrow,” Mariel started, avoiding eye contact. “Are you gonna be okay?”

I sighed. “The con wedding?”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip.

“Still banned from the social event of the semester,” I said sarcastically.

“It’s so dumb,” Kaylee said with a mouthful of ice cream. “You helped organize half of it and they’re still punishing you for something that’s barely scandalous.”

“Rules are rules,” I said with a shrug, though the bitterness in my voice betrayed me. “Delta Nu can survive without a mildly controversial first year sister.”

There was a long pause. A heavy silence fell over us, one filled with unspoken questions.

“Do you think he’ll try to talk to you?” Kaylee asked gently.

I shrugged. “Probably. But I don’t know if I want to hear it.”

Another silence.

“I mean, what if…” Mariel started cautiously, “What if he tries to apologize, would it change anything?”

I considered it.

Maybe.

Mariel reached for the remote. “Let’s pretend tomorrow doesn’t exist for just one more episode.”

“Make it one with Reid in a vest,” I said.

SATURDAY. 8:00 AM.

The alarm on my phone screamed like a dying robot. I smacked it off the nightstand and buried my face in the pillow for one more second of peace. One second before today’s absurd circus took over my life.

I rolled over, groggy and dry-eyed. Notifications lit up my phone like Times Square—several missed calls from him. I ignored them. No time for drama or apologies this morning. I had a checklist to bulldoze.

I threw on a faded sweater and my most forgiving jeans. No formalities if I was going to stay in my room all night.

As I shuffled into the kitchen, still damp from the fastest shower of my life, I found Georgina already standing at the counter like a soldier.

“Missy wants her matcha,” she explained before I could even ask.

“Don’t forget the weird fat free organic nut milk,” I muttered, opening my laptop. “She swears it will give her that Vampira waistline.”

Georgina snorted. “She says it curbs cortisol. I think she just likes saying ‘cortisol’ in public.”

I tuned her out and dove into the real work. Emails, confirmations, tracking numbers. The money for the charity deposit had come through. The books were scheduled for FedEx delivery.

One by one, I ticked off the boxes.

“Can you check if I get emails?,” I said, grabbing my phone. “I’m going to call the boys.”

Which, of course, meant call him.

I sighed hard and dialed Luigi’s number. He picked up immediately, his voice uncertain—like he wasn’t sure if I was calling to reconcile or report a crime.

“Hey,” he said cautiously. “I—”

“Hi, did you get the chairs, the booze, the tables, the fake rings, and your matching blazers?” I cut him off like a project manager on deadline.

There was a pause. “Yeah. Yeah, we got that.”

“And Missy’s bouquet?”

Another pause. A longer one. “Crap.”

They forgot.

“Perfect.” My voice was flat. “Bye.”

“Wait, I—”

Too late. Someone yanked the phone from my hand.

Missy.

Still in rollers and sipping her matcha like it was a martini, she leaned into the phone with a grin.

“Luigi Mangione, you better not be late this time,” she said in her chirpiest tone. “See you at the altar!”

Then she hung up and turned to me with that smile—the one that always meant she was about to insult me with designer precision.

“Nice jeans,” she said, with the subtle horror of someone witnessing a fashion crime.

“Thanks,” I deadpanned. “Where’s the actor officiant’s number? He’s the only one I haven’t confirmed.”

“He confirmed.” She rolled her eyes.

That was a red flag in bold italics, but I decided to pick my battles. No more drama for now.

12 PM

A few hours later, the pink altar was up and draped in enough chiffon. Cupids, candles, confetti—the full Vegas little chapel dream. The cake arrived. The snack catering team was halfway through setup. I had earned my nonexistent paycheck three times over.

And then, like a pack, the boys arrived with the tables and kegs. I guided them toward the patio, clipboard in hand, trying to suppress the growing tension in my stomach.

And that’s when I felt it.

The soft nudge of a flower against my arm.

I turned.

There he was. Luigi. Holding a single yellow rose.

“Missy clearly said pink,” I said without missing a beat.

“This isn’t hers.” He held it out gently.

I stared at the flower—slightly chilled from the florist fridge, petals curled like shy fists.

“I read that yellow roses are significant in Latin America,” he said while pulling his notes to read with a terrible accent. “Flo-ri-cien-ta, right? Is like your Cinderella”

‘Ella sabia que el sabia, que algun dia pasaria. Que el vendría a buscarla, con sus flores amarillas.’

(She knew, he knew, that one day it would happen. He would look for her, with her yellow flowers.)

He just hit me with nostalgia. Bastard. How am I supposed to stay mad?

“You’re a few months late,” I said flatly, not taking the flower. “And correction, ironically, it’s more like The Sound of Music.”

He hesitated. “Alright, I crossed a line. I know that. It’s just—sometimes I feel like you won’t let me in.”

“And my gut was right,” I said, turning to leave.

He followed and lightly grabbed my arm. “Are you seriously going to ignore me all night?”

I tensed at my seized arm. “Should be easy. I’m not allowed at the wedding.”

“What?” he pulled me closer.

“Yeah. Turns out, me going to your bachelor party compromised my membership in Delta Nu,” I said, voice sharp. “I’m suspended.”

His face dropped, stunned. But before he could respond—

“And you’re about to earn your second strike.”

Missy.

She appeared like a banshee in full glam: fake lashes, spray tan, and those big curls.

“You really are a full-time whore,”

Ya estuvo bueno. (I’ve had enough with you.)

I stepped toward her—but someone beat me to it.

“Missy stop, we’ve all had enough with your tantrums.” he confessed, holding onto his last straw of patience.

“Tantrums?!” her voice reached decibels only dogs could hear. “I’m protecting the image we need to portray.”

This bitch is crazy.

“Are you actually delusional enough to think this whole circus is real?” Luigi snapped. “I only agreed to do this because is my duty as president.”

Everyone froze. The air felt electric.

Missy blinked. “God! Can’t you see? Campus loves us. We’re perfect…”

And then… her voice faltered.

Her face turned pale, almost green. Her eyes lost focus.

“Are you okay?”

I stepped forward just as her body went limp. She blacked out in front of all of us. I caught her mid-collapse, her body shock-stiff and ice cold.

“Ayudame” I yelled. Luigi rushed to my side and grabbed her shoulders. (Help me)

We laid her on the couch as people swarmed like ants. Bella, Julia, all the sisters.

“Missy,” Bella said, gently tapping her face. “Can you hear me?”

She blinked slowly. “What… happened?”

“You fainted,” I said.

She blinked again, processed the situation, then gave me the dirtiest look she could muster.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, trying to stand.

“You should get checked out,” Julia said, concerned.

“Shut up! I’m fine!” she barked.

“You really don’t look fine,” I said cautiously.

“I swear to God, if you keep talking—” she started to yell.

But then…Boom.

She threw up. Every-thing

Right on the white rug. Right in front of everyone.

“A la madre.” I took a step back. (Fucking hell)

A collective gasp rippled through the room. Kaylee squealed. Damien let out a chuckle.

“I’m taking you to the clinic,” Bella said, already grabbing her. “Julia, come on.”

I stood there, dazed, as they carried Missy like a dizzy pageant queen. The room buzzed in confusion and awkward murmurs.

“Well,” Mariel finally said, stepping beside me. “What now?”

I looked at her, then at the mess in front of me.

“We clean and… we wait,” I said, dusting invisible stress off my sleeves. “We’ll see if they call and say she can come back.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Luigi asked.

“No clue,” I said.

@nosebeers @mrs-cactus69 @iinfinitelimits

hi i’m Vaz, this was just a product of my active imagination, free time and the need for a better outcome. Hope u enjoy xxx

The day has come. The whole wedding shenanigans will be a thing on its own instead of a chapter. But obviously will be the next part.

I kinda went overboard with context, so it got long.

#luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione x latina reader #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione x yn

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generic-sonic-fan · 3 months ago

Text

Crybaby, crybaby

Summary: Omega and Amy have a storied tradition of destroying things together. But today, something is off. Omega helps as best he can.

1486 words

---

“Hey omegaaaaaa!! I’m feeling upset 💥💥💥!!! want to meet me at the junkyard?”

Omega was no stranger to these sorts of texts- they were the primary method of communication between him and Amy Rose. They found out early on that they were quite opposite in their hobbies and preferred topics of conversation, but this one activity brought them together like no other.

Amy had previously arranged with the owner of a junkyard on the perimeter of the city for permission to demolish the ruined cars. She cared about this sort of courtesy; Omega did not, but avoiding the hassles of the meatbag legal system was something he could appreciate.

Omega eased his jet boosters and slid to a stop in front of the barbed wire fence. A loud crash told him that Amy was already inside. With a puff from his jets, he hopped the fence and kicked a nearby lump of metal into a pile of wrecked cars ahead.

Amy leapt to the top of said pile, and with a magnificent PIKO! she flattened the stack down to his height.

Omega walked forward and tore the flattened cars in half with a wrench of his claws. He savored the tearing of the metal and shattering of glass, taking the time to analyze the tensile strengths of different components as they broke.

Amy, meanwhile, moved onto the next stack of cars, sending the top one skipping across the broken roofs of others beyond. But when she landed, she hesitated, so Omega grabbed the next car off the stack and tried to skip it further. She had skipped hers three times, he skipped his. . . two and a half times. 2.75 times if he ‘squinted’. Which rounded up to three, which made them even.

Amy did not comment.

Omega grabbed the next car and tried to break it over his kneecap like he’d seen in a recent human action movie. It didn’t work. He ended up dropping the car, the loose components of it clattering against all the other bits already scattered across the yard. Amy did not flinch.

Omega scanned Amy further to find. . . moisture leaking out of her eyelids. Inconceivable. Perhaps some coolant from one of the cars had sprayed on her face?

But then she hiccuped. And let out a sob.

“YOU ARE CRYING.” Omega stated.

She dropped her hammer and covered her eyes. “O-Oh, it's nothing! Just. . . something in my eyes, you know how it is. . .”

She shuddered and rubbed her eyes. Then she turned to him with a smile. Her upper lip was twitching. She picked up her hammer and tapped it against the car Omega had dropped. It did not even leave a dent.

“THAT WAS PATHETIC.”

“I know!” She flung her hammer to the ground again. “I know I am!”

A stream of tears poured down her cheeks and she covered her face again. She fell to her knees

For four minutes and three seconds, she sobbed and whimpered. Omega spent most of that time trying to reconcile this expression with the data he’d collected so far on her, only to find that he was unable to.

“I-I’m sorry Omega.” She finally spoke when her whimpering was no longer quite so frequent. “I don’t mean to be- to be like every stupid person you hate. That everyone hates.”

“IF I DESPISED YOU, I WOULD NOT HAVE COME.” Omega replied.

“R-Really?” She looked up at him, eyes full of moisture. Like she was absolutely dependent on his next phrase not to spill anymore tears.

He wasn’t used to this. “AFFIRMATIVE.”

“Even when- even when I’m like this?” she pointed at the pathetic mess of snot on her face. “Everyone hates when I’m like this.”

“IT IS IRRELEVANT TO ME.”

“You don’t h-hate it?”

“I DO NOT.” He reaffirmed again. He didn’t know what else to say.

“I do-don’t understand, how you of all people can stand me. I’m so- like this! Like this!” She kept pointing at her face. “Stupid and emo- emotional like a stupid little girl.”

“YOU ARE NEITHER STUPID NOR LITTLE.”

“How do you know?”

“YOU ARE STATISTICALLY AVERAGE IN HEIGHT FOR YOUR AGE AND GENDER.”

“Omega, that’s not what I-”

“AND YOU ARE NOT STUPID.”

“But I am overly emotional. Over the stupidest things.”

Omega paused.

“Please don’t play dumb. I do-don’t need you to. You can say it.” She looked down.

“WHAT DO YOU DESIRE FOR ME TO SAY?”

“Stop playing dumb!” She shrieked. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a crybaby who gets mad over every little thing and I obsess and I. . . and I. . .”

Omega inched towards her. When she continued to sob into her hands, he knelt down beside her. She still didn’t move.

“YOU BELIEVE THAT YOU ‘GET MAD OVER EVERY LITTLE THING’?”

“Y-yeah, because I can’t take a joke, o-or. . .’

“FALSE. THAT IS MY JOB.”

She choked on her next sob.

“YOU ARE NOT AS WRATHFUL AS I AM.”

“I wasn’t trying to make it a competition.”

“YOU WERE NOT. WRATH IS AN INFINITE VARIABLE. I AM STILL WINNING, OF COURSE.”

“That’s not the point!”

“WHY ARE YOU UPSET ABOUT YOUR ADMIRABLE STOCKPILE OF WRATH?”

“Wha- what’s that supposed to mean?”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOUR WRATH?”

Amy stared up at him. “Because I’m only angry at the wrong things.”

“FALSE. YOU GET ANGRY WHEN PEOPLE INSULT YOU.”

“But they don’t mean it.”

“IRRELEVANT.”

“And I get angry when people even just look at me wrong and-”

“BECAUSE THEY LOOK AT YOU AS INCOMPETENT.”

Her mouth fell open. She looked down at her palms. “Is that why?”

Omega could only look at her palms as well. “IT IS A POTENTIAL HYPOTHESIS.”

“If you don’t know, then why did you-” She looked at him. “Oh Omega, that’s not fair to you.”

“THAT IS NOT WHAT I WAS IMPLYING!”

“I’ve seen how other people treat you and it’s not fair that they think you’re any different from them just because you’re a robot.”

“SILENCE!” He pounded his other fist against the ground. “IT IS NOT ABOUT THAT! IT IS ABOUT OUR RAGE!”

She nodded for him to continue.

“THEY SEE RAGE AS JUVENILE!” Omega pounded his fist again. “THEY RIDICULE MY CRUSADE TO SLAUGHTER EGGMAN!”

“Y-yeah, it’s not something funny to you.”

“NEITHER IS YOUR RAGE.” Omega clenched his fist beside her.

“No, I guess it’s not. But what about all the other stuff? Like being a cry baby?”

“CRYING EXPRESSES SADNESS: CONFIRM?”

“Sometimes I cry when I’m angry, or stressed, or happy, or frustrated, or anything.”

“REVISING DEFINITION. CRYING EXPRESSES STRONG EMOTION.”

“I think so.”

“CONCLUSION: CRYING IS NOT FUNNY.”

“Well, no, maybe it isn’t, but I cry too much-”

“CONCLUSION: CRYING IS NOT FUNNY. VERIFY?”

“I cry too much!” She pushed him away.

“YOU DO.”

“See, now you’re getting it.”

“BUT IT IS NOT FUNNY.”

“No.” She crossed her arms. “It doesn’t feel funny to me, at least.”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU MOCKED FOR IT?”

“Because I cry too much.”

“CRYING TOO MUCH IS ALSO SEEN AS JUVENILE.”

“Yeah.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

Omega hovered his hand above her shoulders. When he placed it down, she flinched, clearly not expecting it.

“I-It’s okay Omega, you don’t have to.” She ducked out from his touch.

He withdrew his hand.

“Look, I,” Amy stood, “I should get home. Clean up.”

Omega stood as well. “UNDERSTOOD.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“UNDER ONE CONDITION.”

“And what’s that?”

“YOU ARE NOT INCOMPETENT. OR STUPID. AND ACCORDING TO THE DATA I POSSESS: NEITHER I, NOR ROUGE, NOR SHADOW HATE YOU.”

“Really?”

“THEY ARE THE ONLY ONES I CAN VERIFY.” He replied. “HOWEVER: THERE IS STRONG DATA FOR TAILS AND KNUCKLES AS WELL.”

Amy gave a half smile. “And Sonic?”

“I DO NOT POSSESS ENOUGH DATA ON SONIC.”

“Why not?”

“HE IS A CIRCUMSTANTIAL ALLY AT BEST.”

“But you don’t dislike me?”

“AFFIRMATIVE. YOU ARE PASSIONATE AND DESTRUCTIVE.”

“Ha. ‘Passionate’. Sure.”

Omega loomed over her. “DO NOT DOUBT MY ANALYSIS.”

“You actually mean it? Passionate?”

“AFFIRMATIVE. UNLIKE SONIC, WHO CLAIMS NOT TO ‘CARE’ ABOUT ANYTHING ASIDE FROM VAGUE MORAL IDEALS.”

“Hey, that’s not true!”

“YOU ARE PASSIONATE. HE IS NOT. THIS IS A STATISTICAL FACT.”

“So what do you mean by ‘passionate’ then?”

Omega eyed the fence of the junkyard. He could reach it in 4.5 seconds. But instead, he looked back at her. “I AM COMMONLY REFERRED TO AS ‘PASSIONATE’.”

Amy cracked a small smile. “Aww, Omega. That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“I AM NOT ‘SWEET’.” Omega wagged his finger at her.

She nodded. “Right.”

“DO YOU CONFIRM THAT YOU ARE NOT INCOMPETENT OR STUPID, AND THAT SHADOW, ROUGE, AND I DO NOT HATE YOU?”

“I do.” She said. “I mean it.”

“GOOD.”

Amy grabbed her hammer off the ground and walked to the gate of the junkyard. Omega watched her leave, then kicked around a few more junked cars for them both.

#e-123 omega #amy rose #they're besties. to me.#fluff #hurt/comfort #sth

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soka-starxi · 3 months ago

Text

Savagery

Part 1

Titus x afab! medic serf, Gadriel x afab! medic serf

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Mentions of needles and bl00d (not graphic)

A/N: brainworm thoughts of Titus and Gadriel getting jealous over Titus’ new serf. That’s literally it. Potential smut to come <3

I haven’t written in a hot minuet but I tried!!!!

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Light footsteps was all that could be heard as you hurried through the dimly lit corridor, holding your breath in case met with the few Astartes still up at such late hours

You let the data slate tighten in your grip, the dull ache serving as a reminder to keep awake

The now lieutenants return has resulted in your chambers being stacked to the brim with medical documents and equipment

You can’t stop now…you cannot take this promotion for granted…

For weeks now you’ve repeated these words in your head like a mantra, every passing day turning into a blur trying to adjust to the new comings

Before even realising, your met with the entrance of the lords quarters

Embarrassingly up on your tiptoes you uttered your name into the vox system

A heavy pause hung in the air

Letting out a silent sigh and craining your head up again you made sure the urgency was understood

“Lord Titus..i require your assistance to fill out my medical report. I have my orders”

To no prevail.

Silence clinging in the air caused your fingers to mindlessly drum on the weathered data slate

The effect now spreading to your foot as it thrummed impatiently on the floor below..

A heartbeat later and you’re tiredness has now got the better of you as you took a sharp breath in

“Lord Titus I am not leaving here until you let me in which I strongly suggest you do before I-”

As the metal door ached open your breath stilled at the sight of the unclad marine

Not daring to look him in the eye, you peeled your attention from the comm system and slowly brought your tiptoed feet forward

“Enter, serf”

Titus clipped tone forced your gaze down even more, biting your tongue at the former tone in your voice

Engulfed by the gentle warmth of the candlelit room it took every bone in your body to resist the temptations of sleep that clung to your body

Leaving you to prep the needle injector in defaning silence

He was still…too still

Nonetheless, the skin from his recent rubicon surgery was rough against your dwarfed hand

The sheer size of him was still something you were yet to accustom to as you cleaned the area for the needle before extracting his blood

You were becoming familiar with your lords avoidance of medical systems, not wanting the fuss of the med-bay

However, you were a serf and you had orders. It was not your place to speculate the astartes preferences as long as he’s content and well

“All done my lord. Do you require any further assistance?”

The half of the sentence was muffled as you attempted to stifle a yawn

As the lieutenant rose form his cot, a short huff let you know that he was certainly done

it’s like talking to a iron wall

Pleasure seeped throught your aching body as you finally rested in your cot waiting for sleep to take over

Unfortunately it wasn’t that easy of corse… uncertainties plagued your mind, leaving you with a knot in your stomach

I pray the rest of his squad isn’t as stubborn as him

* 　　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 　　　 ✦ .

The reflection in the mirror looked utterly drained even with the little makeup you were allowed to wear

Scanning over your uniform one last time for even the slightest mistake, you broke into a light jog

You’d hate to keep your lord waiting

Realising this was a bad move was obvious when you practically crashed into a slab of ceramite. An astartes…

Fear gripped at your limbs holding you impossibly still, the adrenaline making you forget about the pain

“Watch where you’re going, serf”

Heart threatening to beat out your chest, you stuttered

“Y-yes my lord”

The longer the silence went on for the quicker your breath huffed

The astartes was clearly not satisfied with your answer..

“Look at me”

Dread made your mind spin. And you obeyed

Slowly, you dragged your eyes up to the red helmet boring into you

He took a step closer now only inches from your body, forcing your neck to crane even higher to keep his gaze

“Where are you headed, serf?”

It was less of a question and more of a statement

“To..to serve lord Titus, my lord”

He let out a muffled scoff as he suddenly gripped your arm, reminding you of how weak you were to him

Please..please Gods help me..

#warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #demetrian titus #lieutenant titus #warhammercommunity #sergeant gadriel #valorem gadriel #space marine #space marines #space marine x reader #space marine 2 #captain titus #sergeant gadriel x reader #chairon #meduras chairon #valorem gadriel x reader #demetrian titus x reader

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mooshie-blue · 2 months ago

Text

Needed

(A Barnacles x Bonnie one shot)

The Octopod sat quietly on the ocean floor, near a beautiful coral reef, surrounded by fish and sharks and everything in between. Captain Barnacles stood at his usual spot in the HQ, waiting.

For almost two years, ever since he established the Octo-agents as a team, ever since that faithful day when the octopod crashed into a desert, he’s waited.

The once crowded vessel he called home was quieter than a sleeping fish, even the vegimals had their own missions. Captain Barnacles’ days would consist mostly of him grappling with the fact that he just wasn’t needed anymore.

The other Octonauts have grown to be incredible. They’ve overcome the weaknesses they once had, and Barnacles was left behind. He’d usually call to check up on them but he just didn’t have it in him this time. What was the point in calling if they could just sound the Octo-Alert?

As alone as he felt however, there was one person who didn’t go on those missions. And that person was Bonnie. They weren’t quite comfortable with the new Octo-Agent system, they didn’t go out unless it was mandatory.

Bonnie mostly stayed behind with Barnacles, just working on the upkeep of the octopod, unfinished chores and whatnot. They didn’t mind it. They liked the quiet.

But Barnacles hated it.

Bonnie had noticed how quiet the bear had been. They would watch his eyes, observing how the proud, happy glint would slowly fade, or how his posture would slightly sink when he’d leave a call. Or how he’d stare rather intently at the Octo-Alert button, waiting for it to flash.

Bonnie may have been an observer, but they could never find the right words. Whether it was fear of saying the wrong thing, or the lack of social skills everyone else seemed to have, They always kept quiet.

But this time felt different. Perhaps by dumb luck, Bonnie felt a stroke of determination in their system. They silently watched as Barnacles, with his legs growing tired, sat his mug of coco down on the table and slumped in one of the chairs.

He was facing away from the ladder which Bonnie climbed out of. as they approached, Barnacles’ ear twitched and he turned his head. Looking up at them. His expression was unreadable, which caused Bonnie to freeze in their tracks.

They stared at eachother, thinking about their next move.

Bonnie sighed and took a step forward, taking the initiative for once. “You’ve been up here a while..”

Barnacles let out an annoyed huff followed by a chuckle. “As I always am, Bonnie.” He stood up, pushing his mug aside.

Bonnie bit their lip, and looked down. “Yep, very wise of me to notice.” They mumbled sarcastically.

Barnacles then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about that. But anyway, is there anything you need?” He looked up, not daring to let Bonnie feel the brunt of his bitterness.

Bonnie treaded carefully, as they were very sensitive to others’ feelings, not just because they cared, but because they had to be to avoid the possibility of being an emotional punching bag.

They haven’t had to do so, but Barnacles’ tone and demeanor was prickly, they knew to be thoughtful.

“I finished testing the engine, and I did the last of the dishes from this morning, I don’t really have much to do now.” Bonnie answered him and finally climbed all the way off the ladder.

Barnacles muzzle curled upwards, his eyes bought back the gentle glint it always had. “Very good, dear!”

Bonnie sighed and nodded, the pressure rose a little, Barnacles’ joy was very important to them, even in small doses. “Thank you, can I stay up here with you?”

“Of course!” Barnacles pulled out a chair, which Bonnie sat in, they looked out the large window, scanning the massive ocean life around them, the colors, the shapes, even the sounds always put Bonnie’s mind at ease, and they were proud to protect it with the other Octonauts, especially with Captain Barnacles.

Barnacles turned his attention to the Octo-Alert button, his smile faded slightly, Bonnie caught on very quickly and gently held his paw.

The Captain could almost shudder at Bonnie’s touch alone, he gripped his paw against the table. He couldn’t just talk to them, not about this, but Bonnie wasn’t giving up on him.

He quietly looked at Bonnie’s hand, he wanted to swipe his paw away from them, he wanted to stand in his usual spot and just wait like he always does. Anything would be better than admitting the truth.

“Bonnie, I assure you, I’m fine.” Barnacles started, the curl of his muzzle becoming insistent.

Bonnie simply shook their head. Their eyebrows furrowed. “I know you aren’t.”

Barnacles’ dignity was at risk, he wasn’t meant to express vulnerability, not for anyone. He was supposed to brave any troubles he had without complaints, he couldn’t feel sorry for himself for even a second.

“Bonnie...” Barnacles looked away. Their feather-light grip felt red hot . Fuck, he couldn’t. he loved Bonnie too much to dare pull back.

Bonnie sighed and let go of his hand. “You know I can’t force you to say anything.” They stared intently at him, trying to read his expression. “I want to help you. You saved me.”

“I’m always here, Bear. Always.” Bonnie’s voice hung in Barnacles’ head. “It’s just us here, you can talk to me. Whatever you say will stay between us if need be.”

Captain Barnacles took off his hat, which he only really did around Bonnie. He opened his mouth, but he clamped it back.

Bonnie was ready to hear him. An understanding smile on their face. It’s just them both here in the Octopod.

“I miss being needed.” Barnacles voice was small. He looked down, holding his hat. his vulnerable head hung low. “The other Octonauts, they don’t seem to need me.”

Bonnie blinked in surprise, thinking Barnacles enjoyed the peace and quiet, he was always content when they weren’t trying not to die by the jaws of a hangry shark or a raging storm, but it did make sense.

“Even Peso seems to be able to handle himself, I feel like there’s no point to being the Captain.” He explained. “As horrible as it is to say, I’m jealous.”

Bonnie cross their arms and looked down, they knew jealousy, they knew how harmful it could be, to them or others. But he never did that, he never hurt anyone, that was good enough wasn’t it?

“I’m so proud of everyone, I really am.” He looked up, his eyes started to well with tears. “But I feel left behind. I mean at first I enjoyed the quiet and the alone time but it’s starting to get to me.”

“I’ve been there, after I graduated I was excited to finally not have to worry about waking up early and was happy to just relax at home, but it became a detriment after a while.” Bonnie smiled a little while they tapped their feet on the ground.

“And about the jealousy, yeah. It’s my everyday, it’s not like yours but sometimes I look at everyone so far ahead of me and wonder what I’m doing wrong.” They leaned forward a little bit. “Trust me, you’re not a bad person for feeling that way, it’s how you act on it that matters.”

“But Darling, that’s the thing, I was short with you just a moment ago, wasn’t I?” Barnacles held his paws forward for emphasis.

“It’s okay, I wouldn’t call that being short, anyway.”

“Still, I should’ve been more patient with you.” Barnacles held his mug.

Bonnie stared at him for a moment and hummed thoughtfully. “Do you want to spend the day with me? We haven’t had much alone time in a while.”

Captain Barnacles looked up at them with some hope, but he looked back at the Octo-Alert button and bounced his leg up and down.

“Bear, forget about that.” Bonnie took his paw. “I promise, you won’t miss anything.”

“If we do have alone time, may we have it here in the HQ?” Barnacles compromised. Bonnie replied with a nod.

“Actually I have some kelpcakes in the oven, if you want I’d be happy to share them with you.” Bonnie stood up.

“I’d like that.” Barnacles replied watching as Bonnie retreated to the kitchen, his tense demeanor coming down as he set his hat on the table.

As Barnacles took one more sip of his hot cocoa, he looked outside again, letting the beautiful environment take over his mind instead, no matter how much time he spent underwater, he couldn’t help but fall in love with the gorgeous sights, every single coral reef, kelp forest, and trench had so much to offer, every creature he’d seen would be a reminder of why he took Professor Inkling’s offer to become the leader of the Octonauts.

Barnacles smiled as the scent of freshly baked kelpcakes hit his nose. And shortly after Bonnie climbed back to the HQ with a tray of them “We should let them cook off, first.” Bonnie sat the tray down and sat back in the chair.

He couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to have Bonnie, even more so since he was one of the few people that helped Bonnie come out of their shell, it wasn’t as easy as opening a giant clam, but it was worth every hour.

“As I was saying, about jealousy, how I cope with it is by getting to know or understand the thing or person I’m jealous of, Maybe try some one-on-one time with the other Octonauts when they aren’t out.” Bonnie suggested, watching as Barnacles listened to them, nodding along.

Bonnie took a deep breath. A serious, but gentle look on their face. “If that doesn’t work, you can tell them.”

Barnacles gripped his half-empty mug and looked away. “Bo-Bonnie, you know I can’t.” His ears folded in shame.

“You can.” Bonnie reached over and gently squeezed his paw. “Trust me, you can.”

The sincerity in their voice and the honesty in their touch felt new to the Captain, like something Bonnie had experienced. “But, they wouldn’t understand. I don’t want them to think I resent them.”

“Do you?” Bonnie tilted their head.

“Of course I don’t!” Barnacles was almost offended at the idea before he realized the point of the question.

“Bear, trust me, I’m still learning this lesson, You’ve known everyone here far, far longer than I have, you can talk to them, they’ll understand you, they’ll listen. They-“ Bonnie smiled. “Bear, they love you so much!”

“Darling..” Barnacles gazed at his partner, he felt his walls crack and his face was melting.

Bonnie had his paw gently cradled in both of their hands. “You’ve been so good to them. It’s written in the way they work, together or separated, and that’s because you’re such a great leader, they care about you and they’ll never leave you in the dark, not on purpose.” Barnacles ear twitched and he stared at Bonnie in shock, listening to them pour their thoughts out.

“You need to be honest about how you feel, otherwise it’ll come back to get you. Yes, it’ll be hard, it’s scary, I know that so well, but you’ll feel so much better.” Bonnie punctuated their words with a kiss to Barnacles’ knuckles. “If it doesn’t work out, you’ll always have me.” They looked at him. He looked down at the ground which worried Bonnie.

The sound of a chair scrapping against the floor could be heard as Bonnie was pulled in for a hug, the smaller frame of Barnacles pressed against their shoulder.

Bonnie wordlessly hugged him back. They both sat in silence, just letting each other’s warmth do the talking.

“I… appreciate this, Bonnie.” Captain Barnacles said with his muzzle against Bonnie’s shoulder. He was too heavy hearted to look them in the eyes and say it, but that didn’t matter.

“Thank you.” He mumbled and closed his eyes not caring how he looked for once, he clung tightly to his partner.

Bonnie held him closer and rested their chin on his head. They closed their eyes as well. “Mm..”

Bonnie knew they had done something right. Just the sight of Barnacles in their arms finally letting go of his dignity, even if it was just around them, was a good start.

With a gentle tug, Bonnie pulled Captain Barnacles into their lap, his head was now rested against their soft chest. “Is this okay, Bear?”

Barnacles sat back and looked at Bonnie, thinking for a short moment, he took a peek at the ladder behind them and bit his lip. All he wanted right now was to rest his thoughtless head against their body. All he wanted was Bonnie.

He smiled and leaned into Bonnie’s warmth once more. “Hm. Just until the other Octonauts come back.”

Bonnie responded with a kiss to his head, letting him rest.

The only sounds to be heard for the rest of the afternoon was the soft breathing of a well loved Bear and his loving partner.

#fic #captain barnacles #selfshipping #🐻‍❄️ bonniecles 🍄#fanfiction #Octonauts

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awkward-tension-art · 1 month ago

Text

Viral Vector Epilogue (Echo x Reader)

Chapter 6.

Kiss

Tw: Echo x reader, Kisses, Slow burn paid off, talk of a minor injury, talk of adrenaline crash, reader is a medical researcher, reader is literally exhausted near death

The ship was safely in hyperspace.

All at once, your fight or flight ended.

Now…

The last 3 days caught up to you.

You were burnt out. Exhausted. The pain from getting knocked out finally settled in. The stress was crashing your internal systems.

Your entire body was shaking again, but not from adrenaline.

A calm hand was on your upper arm. In response, you looked up at Echo. He was concerned, looking at you in worry, “You ok?”

“Yea…” You croaked, voice cracking from how tired you were, “Just…need some rest. It’s been a long few days awake.”

“Tell me about it.” He sighed before nodding, “Come on.” you two left the cockpit, letting Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker explain the mechanics of hyperspace to Omega.

Echo guided you to sit on a metal crate, “You're hurt.” he commented, digging through a small medical kit. After a moment he pulled out a small tube of bacta.

You perked up, raising a hand to your cheek.

Ah, that's right. Crosshair managed to nick you with a shot.

You haven’t looked at the wound yet. Judging by the lack of blood, it was superficial at best. Still, you wanted to avoid a potential infection.

And you appreciated Echo’s worry.

The ARC trooper raised his hand to your cheek, some bacta smeared on his thumb. However, right before touching you, he paused. “May I?”

You nodded, “Yes…thank you.”

With tenderness that surprised you, he brushed the pad of his thumb over the small graze. Unconsciously, you leaned into his touch. It was kind. Calm. yet steady and strong. Just like the clone trooper himself.

You didn’t realize you closed your eyes until you opened them again.

Echo kept his palm on your cheek. There was no indication he wanted to leave your side, instead, choosing to fully hold your face. His eyes, golden and beautiful, were on yours and filled with a storm of emotion.

There was a stalemate between you two.

Until you lifted your hand, resting over his. Your gaze didn’t break away from him.

He whispered your name softly before leaning forward to kiss you.

It was awkward, unsure and surprising. But it was Echo. Passionate and loving. You leaned into him, returning his kiss with equal amounts of affection and fervor. You raised your other hand to his face, holding him close. The space between you two was minimal, even when he broke away with a deep breath.

It seemed to hit him exactly what he did, “I…Sorry. I’ve wanted to do that for a while…” You could see the small amount of pink on his cheeks, and you smile.

“Do it again.” you responded.

And he did, taking you into another kiss. This time, he was more certain of himself.

That was, until there was the clearing of a throat.

The both of you broke away from one another, turning with wide eyes to see Hunter in the doorway of the cockpit. His arms were crossed with one brow raised, “There is a child on this ship, you know.”

Behind him, Wrecker and Omega watched you. The blonde girl was hiding a smile behind her hand and the older, stronger clone looked more excited than even her. Like he just won a prize. It seemed only Tech didn’t care, instead focused on the ships controls.

“I…we…uh…” Echo stumbled over his words, “We’ll…be more careful next time.”

Next time?

The thought of a next time brought a smile to your face.

“I will say,” the squad leader had a small smirk now, “It’s about time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly.

#reader insert #my writing #star wars x reader #echo x reader #tbb echo x reader #star wars #tbb x reader #sw tbb #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb echo #arc trooper echo #tbb wrecker #tbb omega

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jouceras · 1 month ago

Text

Runaway Racer

It started with the small things; accidental brushes of hands in the hallway, awkward glances in the living room, and few words exchanged. Kenta lifted his gaze, locking with his. The intensity came in waves, rushing over Kim's frame. He took a sharp inhale, stepping inside his apartment. The memory of Kenta's ice-cold knife kissing his skin, a palpable sensation in his heart. Still. Even after all those years. Kenta opened his mouth, as if daring Kim to scoff or throw an insult in his direction. Instead, their palms brushed. Electric. Sparks flared up his arm. Kenta grabbed the grocery bags and moved quietly into the kitchen. Kim followed soundlessly after. He eyed the flexing arms. The strong valley of bones that carried Kenta's feet forward. His eyes dropped lower, to his muscles barely contained by the too tight t-shirt. Kenta cleared his throat, snapping his gaze up. "Why didn't you tell when you came back?" His hands already moving━getting the groceries into their proper places. His voice soft, tentative.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. Frustration threatened to break out. I only accepted Pete's request because he asked. Because I loathe owing people. Hands clenched by his side. "That isn't any of your business," Kim crossed his arms over his chest. Kenta stilled in his movements. Eyes wide. Then, as if to challenge Kim's already thin patience, Kenta found a cig and lit it. He inhaled casually, filling the room with smoke. Kim's eyes watered. The dust filled his lungs, like a fire. Coughs escaped his mouth. He swore under his breath. His hand moved swiftly, slapping the cig out of Kenta's mouth. It irritated him endlessly for some reason. Kim smashed the cig under his boot. "Rule number one," Kim pushed his digit into Kenta's chest. "No smoking in my apartment." As he moved to turn away, Kenta grabbed hold of his wrist. His eyes narrowed into slits. The racer attempted to jerk away his palm to no avail. Adrenaline rushed into his system. Heartbeat raced like a rabbit's in his chest. Heat rushed to his cheeks. Kenta's dark, amber eyes devoured him whole. His fingers trailed down Kim's wrist, holding him in place. Kenta stepped forward, until Kim felt the hard surface. The tilt of his head, as he leaned closer. His heart was about to crash. "Kenta━" Kim exhaled sharply. Kenta ignored his request, dipping lower. Hands tightened against fabric. It tore into his flesh. "You smell different." Kenta moved away. Kim furrowed his brows. Last time he checked, he hadn't used any new scents. He lifted his t-shirt to smell it and found nothing unusual. Only the musky scent with a strong smell of gasoline. As he escaped to another pit to race in whenever he had the chance. Running away like a coward. "So?" Kim shrugged. "Why do you care?" "I ... " Kenta avoided his gaze. "I don't know." Kim huffed, "that's rich coming from you." Maybe he wanted to press Kenta's buttons. As payback from all the punches, kicks, and projectiles that never stopped landing on his body. Maybe he wanted to see desire and anger in those dead eyes. Something more than a trained dog. Something human. Kenta walked closer. His lips pressed into a thin line. Hand shut up, grabbing the collar of his shirt. "I'm trying!" Knuckles turned white from the force. Kenta's face inches away from his. "Are you?" Kim pressed, not moving a inch. His hands shoved Kenta. At least attempted. Their size difference wasn't of any help. "Since I feel like I'm living with a ghost." Every moment forced him closer to the wall. Every breath fell short. Kenta arm flexed, tugging his light brown locks. Until his neck was exposed. His Adam's apple bobbled. Kenta's thumb danced over his pulse point. "I don't want to be here either," he snarled. "Weren't you going to Korea? Pretend this never happened? Pretend we never happened?" The resistance left him like a whiplash. He went limp in Kenta's hold. Teeth tore into his underlip, until he tasted copper. "We?" Kim countered. "There never was any 'we'," Kim grimaced in disgust. "You never protected me. Not once. Fuck you." "I will always live with the regret of hurting you," his hands shivered. Tone faltered. Kenta's eyes turned glassy. "You can chose whatever to believe me or not. It won't change the situation you're in now, runaway racer."

#pit babe #pit babe 2 spoilers #pit babe kim #pit babe kenta #kim x kenta #kimkenta #one shot

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arcsimper5 · 2 years ago

Note

Hehe, the first kiss prompts are irresistible! 😂💙 I’ve got a request, if you find it inspiring, and if not, feel free to ignore!

How about hands on the cheeks… with whomever you are most feelin? 🥹 Just that deliciously satisfying yearning finally coming to fruition? 🙈

Fun to read if you choose to write it! 💙

AHHHH I'm so sorry it took me so long to answer this, I've been so caught up in work and writing other stuff but AHHH I FINALLY DID IT!

I went with Hunter, because it just seemed right to me, I hope you like it!

Word count: 2626 Pairing: Hunter x Reader (no name) Rating: M (blood, minor injury, peril, darkness, lots of angst, pining, premature mourning) Please let me know if I missed anything! And thank you so much for the prompt!

“Look out!”

Hunter’s warning came too late for you to respond, the ground beneath you trembling with the force of the cave-in rapidly gaining on your position.

Damn Cid, you thought to yourself, panting for breath as you sprinted forward, Omega by your side, damn her and her stupid missions. The cache she’d bought the location for had been empty, and you’d already known this mission was going to be a disaster when the rain started pouring the moment you touched down.

Now, the rocks that made up the old cave system had finally buckled with the movement of the ground thanks to the water above, beginning with small creaks and groans, quickly turning into certain death, the rocks crashing behind you creating splintering crevasses in the ground.

You first felt your foot slip as the ground opened up beneath you, Omega’s shrill shriek ringing in your ears as the sensation of falling overtook you.

It wasn’t even a conscious thought as you reached for Omega, using all of your strength to grab ahold of her jacket and throw her away from the rapidly growing hole in the ground, her eyes wide as Wrecker caught her midair and turned to run, your footing failing you.

As Omega screamed your name helplessly, Hunter turned, watching in horror as your eyes met seconds before you slipped out of view, consumed by complete and utter darkness.

Rocks and dirt crashed around you, one last deep breath taken as you landed with a sickening crunch onto hard ground, eyes closing as you waited for the end.

The groaning of rock on rock above you made you flinch, like nails on chalkboard, screaming in your ears while tiny streams of dirt and pebbles pelted your face.

Raising your hand in defense, an utterly useless motion against tonnes of rock, you chastised yourself internally, you waited. And waited.

The noise of the collapse faded, the steady flow of dirt and rocks dying out as the world around you settled, no longer tickling your face.

Daring to open your eyes, you found the exercise useless; pure, pitch black surrounded you, blinding you to your surroundings.

Swallowing hard, you dared to move a little, breath hitching as a few rocks fell from the gaps in your armour onto the floor below.

Feeling around, your hands came to rest on a large slab of rock above you, tracing the jagged edges to the sides of the crevasse; it had been caught mere feet above you by sheer luck, your lungs burning as you inhaled a shuddering breath, barely holding back manic laughter.

You’d survived the fall, and narrowly avoided being crushed by the falling rocks, but now you were faced with another problem; escaping your new prison.

Slowing your breathing, your thoughts drifted to Hunter, Omega and the others, tears burning in your eyes.

They were safe. They’d made it out. But Hunter’s scream of your name when he’d seen you fall, the expression in his eyes as he’d watched helplessly… it only added to the regret building inside you.

You should have told him. You should have been honest. You should have admitted you loved him months ago, when you figured it out yourself, a night you’d spent watching stars with him on top of the Marauder, your head laid on his chest as meteors scorched through the inky blackness overhead.

His warmth had radiated through every inch of your body, sending pleasant shivers through you as his hands ran up and down your arms, trying to warm you even more.

You’d come so close to kissing him then, your eyes locked with each others, flickering down to his lips and his to yours, a question in his gaze you wanted so badly to answer.

But as you were about to meet, eyes fluttering closed, preparing to brush your lips together, you jolted apart at Wrecker’s shout as he came out to relieve Hunter of watch, clambering up onto the roof with you and joining in your star watching.

And now… Now you might never get the chance.

The thought awoke something in you, some deep determination you didn’t even realise you possessed.

You were not going to die like this. You were going to find a way out, back to your friends, you family. And you were going to tell Hunter how you felt.

As you nodded to yourself, a soft sound floated through the darkness, the loss of your vision enhancing your other senses to an almost painful degree. Holding your breath, you tilted your head slightly, hope flaring in your heart; it was water… Running water!

If you could find your way to it, there may be an exit to the outside.

With one last firm nod, you steeled yourself, drawing a deep, shuddering breath as you scrambled to your feet and began feeling your way along the walls of the cave, following the sound.

*-*-*

“You must calm down, Hunter,” Tech ordered sternly as he watched Wrecker lift their brother away from the bloodied rocks that blocked what was once the entrance to the cave they had just escaped from, the sergeant’s limbs flailing wildly as he fought against the grip holding him, tears streaming down his face.

“No, no! I need… we need to get her, to get her out!”

Wrecker’s expression was one of pure anguish as he sat Hunter down on a rock next to Omega the young girl’s legs pulled up to her chest, her body rocking as she cried silent tears of her own.

“Your current emotional state is of no use to anyone,” Tech informed him flatly, bending down as Wrecker stepped away, his hands held out as if trying to placate Hunter, like he might bolt back to the rocks at any moment, “we need to think about this clearly and rationally.”

Hunter shook his head, hands trembling as Tech tutted, grabbing his medkit from one of the pouches on his belt and examining his brother’s tattered fingers, the nails broken and ragged from clawing desperately at the rocks, small red rivulets dropping onto the floor below.

“I should, should have been there,” Hunter gasped, wincing as Tech sprayed his wounds with disinfectant, quickly adding bacta and beginning to wrap his fingers one by one, “I should… should have stayed close. She… she’s…”

Wrecker’s breath hitched as he collapsed on the rock Omega was sat on, shaking his head.

“Don’t say it, Hunter,” he pleaded, opening his arm to his sister as she let out a sob, crawling into his lap seeking comfort, “please… don’t…”

“It’s my fault,” Omega sniffed wetly from his arms, every breath hitching as she cried into his chest, “if I hadn’t fallen, if she hadn’t come back for me…”

Behind them, Echo crested the small hill, coming back into view from his trip to the Marauder, a seismic scanner hung around his neck by a frayed canvas strap. He paused as he heard Omega’s sobbing, taking in the sight of his brothers, his jaw clenching.

“Hey, what’s with the tears?” he called sternly, moving to stand in front of them as Tech finished with Hunter’s bandages, the sergeant staring at the ground in despair. “I thought we were getting ready for a rescue?”

“She’s gone,” Hunter croaked, his tone utterly broken, “I… I can’t hear her. Can’t… can’t feel her heartbeat…”

He’d been straining himself since the moment he’d lost sight of her, the fear in her eyes scorched forever into his memory. The settling earth murmured beneath them, the clouds above swelled and flowed across the sky, the sound of a small river a few kilometres away drifted through the air, but that was it.

Every one of the Batch’s heartbeats rang in his ears, but not hers.

Echo frowned at him, waving the seismic scanner in annoyance.

“Why do you think I’ve got this?” he questioned, frustrated as he moved towards Omega, crouching down in front of her. “The rock is too thick for Hunter to hear through. She might have fallen in deep, but she’s tough, like us. We’ll find her using this, and we’ll get her out, yeah?”

Tech frowned, rolling his eyes at his brother.

“The likelihood of her having survived a fall and the subsequent rockslide, along with the risks presented by exposure and dehydration make her chances of survival…”

“Enough,” Echo snapped back at the engineer, snarling as tears conftinued to drip onto the dusty ground at Hunter’s feet, the cyborg letting out a sigh. “We’ve survived worse odds than this. We’ve been through the ringer, and we’re all still here. We’re not giving up, you hear? We’ll get her back.”

Omega nodded, sniffing away her tears and wiping furiously at her face, steeling her expression as met Echo’s gaze, nodding to the seismic scanner.

“I want to help,” she croaked, “tell me how.”

Echo smiled weakly at her, his own emotions welling in his chest. He knew the chances were slim, but so were his chances of survival the Citadel. And yet here he was.

“Atta girl,” he smiled, jerking his head back as he looked at Wrecker. “Tech will come with me. Wreck, stay with Hunter. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Gotcha,” Wrecker managed, forcing a smile as he let Omega down from his lap, clapping a large hand on her shoulder in comfort. “Echo’s right, kid. We’ll find her, ‘kay?”

“‘Kay,” Omega replied with a weak smile, fighting back more tears as she latched herself to Echo’s side, the cyborg ignoring the pointed look from Tech as they moved towards the cave entrance, firing up the scanner.

Hunter remained silent as Wrecker came to sat next to him, unsure of what to do. He’d never seen Hunter in a state like this, almost catatonic.

“Ya… ya doin’ okay, Hunter?” he prompted carefully, frowning when his brother huffed in annoyance. “Look, I know it looks bad, but Echo’s right! We’ve been through a lot. She’s tough. If anyone could survive…”

“I should have told her,” Hunter interrupted him, Wrecker drawing back a little to look over Hunter, confused by the statement.

“Uh… Told her what?”

“How I felt,” Hunter breathed, closing his eyes tightly, more fat tears falling into the dirt, staining the earth with his grief. “I… I had so many chances… and I… I couldn’t. She deserves better than a clone. Better than me. I let her down. I’ve done it again, let her fall…”

When he finally looked up, meeting Wrecker’s gaze, there was an utterly broken look in his eyes, one that caused Wrecker’s throat to tighten uncomfortably.

“I love her, Wreck… I love her, and I… I didn’t… I’ll never get to tell her. I… I’m so stupid…”

Falling back into silence, Hunter looked up to the sky, drawing in deep shuddering breaths.

“Ya can’t blame yourself, Hunter,” Wrecker tried desperate, laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “she knew what she was doing. She saved ‘Mega.”

“And I should have been there,” Hunter hissed through gritted teeth, anger growing from his sadness, “I should have…”

A sudden splashing sound caught his attention, distant, but clear.

Wrecker began to speak again, but quickly fell silent as Hunter shushed him, standing up and closing his eyes, listening intently.

Tech, Echo and Omega were still at the cave entrance, conversing lowly, the soft hum of the seismic sensor fading into the background as he focused on the faint sound in the distance, the sound echoing over the sand covered hills.

The splashing sounded again, this time accompanied by a gasp and a cough, spluttering and more deep breaths, a faint heartbeat vibrating through the air.

Hunter didn’t even speak, he simply opened his eyes and ran, ignoring Wrecker’s shout after him. He heard Echo, Tech and Omega call as well, their footsteps quickly joining to pursue him, but it didn’t matter.

Not when he could feel that familiar thumping, not when he could hear the clacking of plastoid.

He didn’t know how far he ran, nor did he care about the way his lungs burned with the effort, his legs trembling by the time he crested the hill just above where the sound was coming from, soft words beginning to float through the air, unmistakable.

“Havoc 1, come in? Havoc 2? Echo? Anyone?”

With one last push, he made it to the ridge, his knees giving out as he caught sight of her, the familiar outline, scent and voice overwhelming him.

*-*-*

A gasp of your name behind you made you jump as you pocketed your drenched comm, tutting in annoyance as water ran out of it, the electronics completely fried.

Wondering if you’d imagined it, you turned quickly, you breath hitching in your throat as you saw Hunter kneeled in the sand, his eyes wide, tears rolling down his cheeks as he panted for breath. He had obviously been sprinting, beads of sweat trailing down his forehead, his hair mussed, bandana askew.

“Hunter,” you breathed, the relief in your voice palpable. Scrambling towards him through the ankle deep water, you ignored the sting of the cuts and bruises that littered your body.

The escape from the cave system had been terrifying, being swept down an unground rapid system after wading through the river for some time, clutching at the walls in total darkness. And yet, you’d made it out, battered and beaten, but alive.

As Hunter called your name again, his voice broken with emotion, you scrambled up the bank, tears beginning to spill down your own cheeks as you got closer, his hands reaching out to you, as if he wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was real.

Within moments, you were out of the water, your clothes and hair still sopping wet, body trembling with adrenaline and cold, mere steps from him when he grabbed out for you, pulling you to your knees in front of him. A sob left his chest as he pressed his forehead to yours, uncaring of the water that still dripped from every inch of you, his hands coming up to cup your face, thumbs resting on your cheekbones.

“C-Cyare,” he choked, closing his eyes, breathing you in, “I’m so, I’m so kriffing sorry. I should have been there, I should have been with you…”

“Hunter, don’t,” you pleaded thickly, leaning into his embrace, pure relief rushing through every fibre of your being. “I did what I had to, I needed to get Omega out, I…”

Your words were cut off as he tilted his head back, his lips finding yours, crashing your mouths together with a passion that caught you off guard. You whimpered into his mouth as he clutched at you, fingertips digging into your jaw, holding you so tightly it might bruise, like if he let go you might float away.

Moaning as he slid his tongue over your bottom lip, he took full advantage, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss, your own hands moving to cord through his hair, remaining tangled in the thick, sweat soaked curls even as you parted, both panting for breath.

“Should have done that months ago,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours with every word, his eyes focusing on yours, warm swirling pools of molten chocolate causing a swirling deep in your gut, “I should never have waited. I… I love you, cyare… Forgive me?”

As the roar of the Marauder’s engines drifted through the air, the ship growing closer with every passing moment, you simply sighed as you pecked his lips again, tears of joy painting your cheeks.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Hunter,” you reassured him, pressing your foreheads together once more, a shiver running through you both. “And I love you too.”

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #star wars the clone wars #tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #tcw #clone wars #sergeant hunter x reader #tbb fanfic #first kiss prompt #for freesia-writes #DaniWrites

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