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missadangel · 3 months ago

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MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 3: Happily Never After

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Chapter Summary: They say the liar's candle burns until nightfall, and the truth eventually comes out. But if the liar had to say the lie without wanting to, can she ever be forgiven? Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 8k, explicit MDNI, smutty, fluffy, and angst... authors note: I'm so glad you all showed so much love and interest in this story! Thanks a ton, everyone!

An elevator ride towards the topmost floor brought you to a spectacular view of the city below, glass panels surrounding almost every inch of the suite. The elevator’s soft ding startled your body into action. Stepping through, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the moment. Luxurious surroundings of rich blacks, silvery grays, and gleaming gold details captured your attention, soothing your nerves. However, it was merely a distraction that served nothing, not when you could feel his every movement, his graceful steps moving to and fro.

The suite was larger than you thought, and the hallway was strewn with flower petals. The shopping bags filled with clothes he had bought for you sat on the large table to your right. You stood there, -your gaze fixed on them but avoiding his face- feeling a wave of heat intensifying throughout your body. You were startled by Harry's gentle touch as he helped you remove your coat. He did it slowly and lingeringly, letting his fingertips glide along your neck and shoulders. You glanced at him shyly, your heart racing as your eyes finally met.

Damn.

His eyes burning you to the core.

You felt a lump form in your throat, but you took a deep breath and swallowed it down. Just as he was about to turn, you caught a quick glimpse of his lips moving—was he smiling? Crap, he must have picked up on how nervous you were. Of course, he did; you were acting all jittery like a bride on her wedding night. But this wasn’t a wedding night, and you weren’t a bride, so why were you feeling this way? It had been a while since you’d last hooked up, but that wasn’t what was stressing you out. You really needed to calm the chaos going on in your head, and fast.

His words echoed in your mind: "For now, just let it all out."

And you did.

In that moment, you made up your mind. Deep down, you admitted that you wanted him.

Yes.

You wanted him so badly that you didn't care about anything else, so badly that you swallowed your pride in an instant.

You turned to him and your eyes stayed glued to him.

To his back.

The way he moved, the way he touched, grabbed and placed your coat over the chair. The way his eyes locked with yours, and with just a look, he understood.

Then he lunged.

Brought your face into his, your lips melded as one, devouring one other, clashing with hunger released from the confines of your heart. You couldn't hold back this madness any longer, opening up so gloriously, so effortlessly to his probing tongue, tongue that feverishly explored every inch of your mouth, wanting, no, needing, to brand every inch with his taste. And you pushed back, wanting the same thing: for him to taste you.

He pushed you back with even more passion than you did. You did trip, but he was agile enough to catch you before you fell, pinned you against a wall. His lips met your jaw, teeth scraping down to your neck while your hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel him, desperate to touch...

Your sudden growl got his attention, and he surged up, kissing your mouth again, helping you with the damn shirt. Once it came off, you wasted no time. Your hands roamed with eager curiosity, enchanted by the velvety warmth of his skin despite the strength of his body, at the solid ridges your palms found, the sculpted lines of his chest, the tightness of his rippling biceps, his abs.

He was a magnificent sight, a living dream, and you were completely committed to exploring every inch of him.

Then, with a swift and eager move, he found the zipper of the dress, lowering it until it finally gave way, the straps on your shoulder falling helplessly to their sides. He took a moment to appreciate the stunning sight of the dress gracefully cascading from your body, elegantly flowing to the floor and pooling at your feet. His gaze lingered on every detail, from your bare legs to the delicate strands of hair framing your face. A proud smile spread across his lips, accompanied by a playful growl of approval, clearly delighted by the breathtaking vision before him.

Eagerly, he reached out with his hand to help you step over the dress, and then he placed another burning kiss on your lips.

He was quick to grab you by the hips, quick to pin you against the wall again. One arm encased you within his grip, the other harshly split your legs open and found your clit beneath your panties. You gasped, bucked against him, against his hold, his crotch. He wouldn’t budge, his mouth scraping, tasting you, your neck despite your jewelry, leaving behind delicious bites that left your body mindless, numb to everything but him.

“You have no idea how much I've been hoping for this moment,” he finally said, sucking, biting your shoulder a little too hard, rubbed your clit a little too slow, and yet. You whined for him, because of him, craving all he had to give, indifferent to whether it was right or wrong. And despite how overwhelming it was, his fingers still moved so slow, so softly against your clit- you couldn't help the desperate moan that escaped your lips, in desire to get closer, to- He growled, “Just like this, kitty, I want you just like this. Pliant, desperate for more.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

His words didn't help; instead, they only made you squirm more. You knew he was doing it on purpose, yet damn it, you needed more; so desperate for this delicious torture to end.

“Please,” you said, whimpering.

“Please what?” He rubbed his nose teasingly against yours, a smirk dancing on his lips as he awaited your answer. With his grip, he pressed you against him a little more until your pussy was pressed against his clothed, hard cock. "Is this what you want?"

"Y-yes."

He laughed harshly.

You couldn't help it, you blushed hard after he said, "So you finally admit you want me.” He nibbled on your ear, whispered against it. "You will get what you want sweetheart, no rush. There’s something else I want to do first.”

Without lowering you from the wall against which he was pinned you, he lifted you up and caught you in his arms. He wrapped your legs more tightly around his waist and carried you to the bed.

Gripping his shoulders, yourt heart racing. Maintaining eye contact, he leaned in and gently set you on the edge of the bed. You scooted back, feeling excited, biting your lips. "Not yet," he said, his voice low and husky as he quickly grabbed and pulled you by the thighs towards the edge. The way he slid you across the bed, this easy and a little roughly, took your breath away and was definitely a big turn-on for you. He leaned over, slipped his fingers into the hem of your panties and pulled them down your thighs too roughly, tearing your lace panties, but neither of you cared at that moment.

“I want to taste you, all of you,” he growled, and brought his mouth back to your core.

Thanks to this position you were completely exposed to his wanting mouth, and he fucking knew it, his fingers back inside your cunt, mouth insistently sucking on your clit.

"Shit!" You loudly exclaimed, back arching off the bed.

He held you still by the hips with one arm while his other hand kept going, thrusting into your clenching pussy.

One hand gripped the sheets while the other held the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his curls, closing your eyes in utter ecstasy. The feel of his mouth devouring your pussy was a relentless, powerful pleasure unlike anything you'd ever felt before - the way he tore through your opening with his appendage, the way his nose bumped and his mustache tickled, the way his lips found their way to suck so sweetly on your clit. And God, the way it sounded - you would feel pretty embarrassed if you weren't overwhelmed by pure lust-, you were soaking his face, but neither of you cared enough to stop.

You forced your eyes to open, you didn't want to miss out on memorizing him kneeling before you, eating you out. The moment you managed to look at him, you realized it was a mistake.

He was looking at you.

At your face.

Your eyes.

Taking in your reactions. And goddamn, his eyes, were completely blown away in lust. He was more than enjoying having you all over his mouth. “Fucking delicious,” he grunted, diving his fingers back in.

It was your undoing.

You could feel yourself silently screaming with pleasure, your body trembling and mind blank, but for the waves of delight that kept coming through you, he hadn’t stopped his movements despite how tight your cunt gripped his fingers in your end.

"You're gorgeous," he purred, biting your calves and making you yelp. He licked away the sting once he'd marked you. In the haze of the moment, you felt the bed shake and his hands on your back, fingers unclasping your bra.

Before he settled, he took care of the rest of his clothes, impressive girth hard and throbbing and already wet with precum finally out of his pants.

The sight sent you reeling.

“Like what you see?”

Was he kidding?

He was fucking beautiful.

You bit your lip, nodded.

He smirked and was quick to get in position, harsh lips taking your breath away, body pushing you on your back. Holding onto him, you let him open you up, let him guide his cock right to your cunt.

Now the moment was definitely urgent.

He gave it a couple of flicks around your core, then he pushed in. He took you in, your gasp and moan filling the air. When he moved, it was a slow yet sure thrust that had you seeing stars, and you keened.

You mewled, "Yes."

He held you by the cheeks, lips barely a hair's breadth away, while his grip shifted and tightened around your waist.

“You feel so good," he breathed, speaking against the valley between your breasts.

Harsh, hungry hands on your breasts, on all over your skin made your flesh pleasantly crawl. Your breaths mingled when lips melded as one. Small mewls came from your throat while his hips moved against yours. And then he sped his movements while his mouth drank more of you up, the only air you took in his.

The only air he took in yours.

He tightened his grip, surely leaving marks where he groped. Harder, faster, not giving you a chance to take everything in and commit it to memory, he finally angled his hips differently.

“And you are tight, wet, warm,” he added, kissing you again.

When he heard you shout with pleasure, he made sure to keep going at it, hard and fast, so that you couldn't catch your breath, your body tensing up with the force of his hips, his cock stretching your pussy out so deliciously. You helped him by locking your legs behind his back, making him go impossibly deep, throwing your head back in ecstasy. It left your neck bare for his hungry lips and teeth, and he mercilessly marked you with them, soon after meeting your tits with his mouth again, showing them devotion while keep thrusting mercilessly, the sound of flesh against flesh was like a delicious symphony to his moans and groans, and your mewls and moans.

His lips released your breasts and trailed your jaw all the way to your ear. His pace shortened, quickened. So you begged him not to stop, not even thinking about it, and he promised he wouldn’t, couldn’t, not until he felt you gripping hard around his cock, not until he broke you.

He had a promise to fulfill, after all.

He growled the nickname he had given you, with fervor, with passion. He was close, and so were you but, you needed more, needed a bit of a push to send you reeling again. And you weren’t quite sure how, but he found your clit, and stroked it enough to give you just what you needed.

The bastard was an expert.

Your orgasm crashed through you, sight gone into utter darkness, muscles tight with tension released in such a perfect, bittersweet way, raking your nails down his back.

“Fuck,” he cursed loud and long, holding you in place while his own orgasm filled you up to the brim.

The raging fire was now extinguished, its gentle flame still brushing against your veins in slow, tender strokes. It was similar to the way you both touched each other, hands softly trailing up and down wherever they could reach. His touch felt different from before, while yours was a promise of what could be. A whispered kiss. Eyes brimming with post-coital contentment.

That moment was so special—the way all the passionate sounds of love just a moment ago faded into peaceful silence. You couldn’t fight off sleep anymore as he softened and pulled away, collapsing onto the pillow. Before you dozed off, you thought you heard him mumbling something, though you weren't really sure.

If you were more awake, you could have sworn he whispered, “Te amo.”

The morning light poured into the room like liquid gold, seeping through the tall glass panel and gently warming your face. The curtains, drawn only halfway, allowed the sun to flood the entire space, casting a soft, radiant glow that danced on the walls. From your position, you had a breathtaking view of the iconic Eiffel Tower, towering majestically in the distance, a reminder of the enchanting city around you.

You were lying with your back to Harry, and there was something strangely nice about the sound of his breath right behind you. It felt like forever since you’d woken up next to someone.

One of his arms was draped around your waist, resting on the sheet, and his warmth felt like a cozy shield. But even with the calmness of the moment, there was a twist of unease in your stomach. Last night had been incredible, full of passion, but the uncertainty about what was coming next hung over you like a dark cloud.

You were carrying this secret in your heart that felt like a heavy anchor, and you knew you had to face it eventually.

As Harry shifted behind you, his lips brushed against the top of your head. “You were talking in your sleep,” he said quietly.

You were taken aback—how long had he been awake? Wait, did he just say you were talking in your sleep?

“Are you serious?” you asked, curious about what you might have said. “You didn’t get it wrong, did you?”

“I definitely heard my name,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Okay, I didn’t know I even did that,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “Did I say anything else?”

“Sort of, and you even meowed a bit. You’re such a little kitty,” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes. “I think you’re just making that up.”

“Nope, not at all. It was real, just like you did last night. It was like; meow, meow, meow,” he joked, imitating a cat's sound.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. Those moments were fresh in your mind—he was right, ugh. You nudged him playfully in the chest.

“Come on. Stop exaggerating.”

“Want me to prove it?”

You gasped as the hand that had been wrapped around you slipped inside the sheet and between your legs.

“Don't, don't, don't, please,” you struggled, squeezing your thighs together with all your strength, resisting. His other hand found your armpit and tickled you, causing you to immediately release the pressure in your thighs.

Oh, that was too much.

He leaned over you and when his hand touched your folds, forcing his fingers inside, your heart began to race.

“Okay, okay, you win! I give up!” you giggled, punching his chest, and he laughed.

He playfully teased you for a little while longer as you both giggled. But then, your eyes met, and suddenly the mood shifted. With his gaze deepening, he leaned in and kissed you, sending a rush of warmth through your body. Just as the moment felt perfect, his phone began ringing. But he didn’t care; he kept kissing you. The kiss broke only when the phone rang insistently. He sat up, grabbed his phone from the bedside table, checked the screen, canceled the call, and tossed it back down.

“Maybe it’s important. Why didn’t you answer?” you asked.

He turned to you, “Nothing is more important than you right now.” He then pulled the sheet off you, and you quickly grabbed it to cover yourself.

“What are you doing?” you asked, surprised.

"We need a shower; we're a bit dirty, don't you think?" he replied, tugging at the sheet again, this time overpowering you.

You felt completely exposed, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself. He chuckled, put his knee on the bed, and scooped you up into his lap.

“Stop! I can walk by myself,” you protested.

“Nobody said otherwise,” he grinned.

With a smug look, he carried you to the bathroom, clearly enjoying the moment. The bathroom was huge, with a big jacuzzi, a spacious shower, and a tall vanity cabinet. Harry set you down and followed you into the shower. It was nice that he was giving you so much attention, but it also made things trickier. You didn’t want to say anything that might hurt him, especially since you knew you’d have to come clean eventually. For now, you just had to play along until that moment came when there would be no more secrets.

After you both got out of the shower, he handed you a robe from the closet and slipped one on himself. You asked him to excuse you because you needed to use the bathroom. Finally alone, you settled onto the most luxurious toilet seat you’d ever sat on, putting your head in your hands and thinking. You knew you had to tell him soon; it was better for him to hear it from you directly. The longer this charade went on, the messier things would get. Sooner or later, you’d run into someone who knew -real- Melanie, and that scared you. Before last night, you weren’t worried about that, but everything had changed.

You could feel a strong connection between you two, and it scared you how intense it was.

It just didn’t feel right.

This had to end.

Suddenly, a sharp pang gripped your heart, urging you to stand up. You stood before the mirror, the figure in the robe felt like a stranger, unfamiliar. This life felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. But deep down, a hopeful part of you whispered that this could actually be your life, and that Harry would accept you just as you are.

You really wanted to believe that.

With all your heart.

But this was no time to be naïve; you had to think rationally.

You had to.

You turned on the tap, splashing cold water on your face to shake off the feelings. Just then, you heard a light knock at the door.

“Are you planning to spend the whole day in there?” Harry joked, his tone playful yet warm.

A smile spread across your face and you sighed deeply as you opened the door. Stepping into the room, you saw Harry already dressed in a cream long-sleeved shirt and black jeans - casual yet stylish, which suited him perfectly. As he put on his watch, he looked at you, "Breakfast will be here soon."

“Really? In the room?” you asked, your eyes lighting up in surprise.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your excitement. “Yes, in the room.”

Just then, a knock on the door interrupted you two, and you both turned to see Oliver standing there, looking a bit flustered.

"Why didn't you answer the phone?" Oliver asked quickly, his eyes darting over Harry's shoulder to you.

Feeling uneasy under his gaze, you instinctively blushed and stepped further into the room.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked.

“Well, I… I was just checking,” Oliver said, his voice trailing off awkwardly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Checking?”

Oliver cleared his throat. “I meant— if you need anything. Oh, and they called, they're expecting you today.”

“Awesome, thanks,” Harry said.

“No problem.”

"Anything else you want to say?"

“N-no, I’ll be in the lobby,” he replied, turning around.

As Harry closed the door behind Oliver, he turned to you, looking lost in thought.

“Is everything okay?”

He shrugged slightly. “It’s just Oliver acting a bit weird. But it’s probably nothing.” He looked at you and asked, “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“It’s just... the dresses you bought are gorgeous, but…” You glanced down at the shreds of your panties on the floor. “I need some new underwear.”

With a cheeky grin, Harry placed his hands on his hips. “Well, that’s my bad. But don’t worry; I’ll fix that.” He went over to the closet and came out with a white shirt. “Here, wear this.”

“But it’s your shirt,” you frowned.

“It is, yes.”

“You want me to wear this?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, still grinning.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve got no other option. Unless you want to walk around naked,” he smirked. “I’d be totally cool with that, though.”

You squinted as you took the shirt from him. “You’ll be waiting forever for that to happen.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door. He chuckled as he went to open it.

After enjoying a delightful breakfast on the balcony with a breathtaking view of the city, everything Harry ordered for you arrived in the room. After all, it was he who had torn your panties, so he owed you. You glanced at the bag, and picked up a stylish black lace bra; it was exactly your size.

He was behind you, leaning against the closet with his arms folded and watching.

“How could you possibly know my exact size?” you asked.

He opened his mouth to reply, but you silenced him with a gesture of your hand. “Don't answer that.”

He laughed. “Come on, get dressed. We need to get going.”

You shot him a glare. “Not with you watching—turn around!”

“Seriously?”

“What do you think?”

He frowned. ’I already saw all of you last night, what's the point of hiding it now?’

“That was last night,” you snapped.

He blinked in astonishment, clearly impressed. “You truly are an extraordinary woman.”

"Yes I am. Now turn around, Mr. Castillo,” you said, twirling your finger at him.

He sighed, a little defeated, but gave in. “Fine," he murmured. "But just so you know, tonight I’m going to make you beg me to take your clothes off.”

“Did you say something?”

“Nothing at all,” he replied, a cheeky grin forming. His mind raced with bold ideas, and your attitude and stubbornness only fueled his eagerness.

It was a challenge, and he was ready to accept it.

"Oh my God!"

You almost fainted from excitement as you stared at the sports cars in all their splendor, your mouth agape. The welcoming team at the luxury rental place truly made you feel at ease, sharing in the exhilaration of these remarkable vehicles.

"Are you telling me I can drive one of these beauties if I want to?" you asked, still unable to take your eyes off the amazing cars. A huge smile spread across your face, reminiscent of a child who had just found a stash of candy.

Harry chuckled, "I've gotten you flowers, clothes, jewellery - but I've never seen you so excited about anything"

"I'm sorry, but how could I not be? Just look at them!"

He placed his hand on your shoulder. "So which one are you going to choose? I'm really curious."

Your eyes scanned the lineup until they landed on the car that truly stole your heart. You walked over, gently brushing your hand along the sleek bonnet, and declared, "This one—the Mustang GT500."

"American muscle, huh? Nice choice."

"You mean I can really drive this?"

"That's why I brought you here, kitty," he smiled.

He had listened to your many conversations about cars, enjoying your passion for them. Apparently, he never grew bored of your car talk, and he wanted to surprise you like this.

You felt unworthy of such a thoughtful man

As you gripped the steering wheel of the red Mustang on the track, a huge smile spread across your face - it had been a long time since you had felt this good. Every time you stepped on the gas, the engine roared and you took the corners like a pro, the tyres screeching on the tarmac. Harry looked a little nervous, but he couldn't help praising your driving skills, saying how well you handled the car.

When you reached the end of the track, you lingered for a moment, reluctant to say goodbye to this baby.

"Harry, thank you. That was even more amazing than I could have imagined."

"You've never driven a sports car before?" he asked.

"I have." It wasn’t entirely a lie. You had driven it once—Nate's Lamborghini. It was one of those days when you were cleaning up after Melanie. While Nate was in the backseat making out with her—they were both drunk, and sometimes it turned into lust—yes, it was really shitty and disgusting. But the only good thing about that day was that you got to drive his car. "But not for long."

"I'm glad I made you happy," he replied.

"Yeah, you definitely did. Thanks, Harry." It was the truth. As you looked into his eyes, he leaned in closer and whispered, running his fingers through your hair, "Be mine, and I’ll show up at your place in the morning with any car you want. Just think about it."

"Harry," you murmured.

"Listen, I don't want to pressure you, but I need a clear answer. I'm a straightforward guy—doubt and uncertainty aren't something I handle well. I've waited this long because of this undeniable feeling I have for you. My instincts have never led me astray, and I’m sure they won’t this time either. So tell me, don’t you think it’s about time? Don’t you think I deserve an answer?"

His brown eyes sparkled like gems. You wanted nothing more than to be with him always, to plead with him to never leave and to make you his. But there was something you had to sort out first.

"You deserve so much more," you said, your voice shaking a bit. You took a deep breath."Tonight, I’ll give you my final answer, okay?"

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it. "All right," he said, smiling as he brushed his lips over your knuckles.

When you got back to the hotel, it was dark, and you couldn’t stop thinking about how you were going to deal with tonight. It was making you super nervous. Harry was outside, talking on the phone, while you were in the lobby, buried in the couch and lost in your thoughts. Oliver noticed you were alone and came over to talk to you.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” you replied, caught off guard.

“Look, I found out everything; the dating agency called me.”

You froze.

“Don’t worry, I know it’s not your fault, but this can’t go on. You understand that, don’t you?”

You nodded, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“I wanted to talk to Harry, but he’s way too attached to you. I think it’s better if you tell him yourself. He has a reputation to maintain—you know he’s well-known. The longer this goes on, the more it messes with his image. Just tell him before things go further, or I’ll have to, and the head of the matchmaking agency might get involved. And trust me, that’ll hurt him a lot more. He should hear it from you.”

“I’ll tell him, I promise. Tonight.”

“Thank you. Oh, he’s coming. Wipe your tears,” he said, handing you a tissue from the table before standing up.

What?

Were you actually crying?

You took the tissue and quickly dried your eyes, sniffling while trying to pull yourself together.

“Melanie, look who’s here,” you heard Harry’s voice.

You almost had a heart attack when you turned around. Jack, Melanie’s dad, was standing right in front of you with a forced smile that screamed trouble.

“I just ran into Jack,” Harry said, looking at you. But then his face changed as he noticed how frozen you were, shaking a bit. “Are you okay?”

“Harry, can you give me and my daughter a minute?” Jack said, still staring at you.

Harry paused, frowning as he sensed something was wrong. Oliver put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s give them some privacy,” he suggested.

Harry nodded, looking unsure, but his eyes were still on you. “I’ll be in the room,” he said, clueless about what was really going on. He thought it was just a father-daughter thing. You wished it was that simple.

As they walked toward the elevator, Jack made sure they were out of earshot and pointed to the seat behind you. “Why don’t you sit down? We need to talk.”

“Jack, I—”

What were you even going to say?

Damn it.

“Sit down, please.”

You did as he said, and he sat across from you, looking at you. “I know everything.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“Do you think my daughter has someone handling her secret affairs and I don't know about it?”

Of course, he should have. Jack was smart and clearly one step ahead of you.

“But if you knew—”

“Why didn’t I stop you?” He sighed. “I wanted to handle this when I got back to New York, but then I found out you were here. I was already in Marseille, so I flew in last night to talk to you.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him?”

“Harry? I could have, but honestly, it’s embarrassing for me. I’m not mad at you; it’s my dumb daughter who messed everything up. I can only be upset with you for not telling me sooner. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you had.”

“Jack, I’m sorry.” Your voice cracked.

"No, I don't blame you. But you have to take responsibility for this. You need to finish things with Harry—trust me, it’s for the best. Go talk to him right now and just explain.” He stood up. “I’ll be outside, waiting for you. Just go and do what needs to be done.”

You watched him walk away, your head spinning with thoughts, and didn't even notice Oliver coming over.

"What did he say?" he asked.

"The same thing you told me earlier. He said I should just end things with him."

"Are you going to do it?"

You looked at him, wiping a tear from your cheek with your hand. You nodded firmly.

He nodded back. "He's in the room, waiting for you," he said. You were glad he looked at you like a friend, the last thing you wanted was pity.

You felt enough pity for yourself; you really didn't need any more.

Harry was pouring himself a whisky when his phone rang. He took a sip while glancing at the screen. It was a number he didn’t feel like answering. When it rang again a moment later, he shook his glass, listening to the ice cubes jingle, and finally sighed before picking it up.

“There you are,” said the voice on the other end.

“What do you want, Lucy?”

“Hey, slow down! I’m only calling because I’m worried about you. I just found out what happened; it’s horrible.”

Harry paused, taking another sip. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the mess with the matchmaking company. That’s what you get for choosing someone other than my agency. You should really sue that woman.”

“Wait, what are you talking about? What woman? What mess?”

At that moment, you opened the door and walked in. Harry’s back was turned to you as he was still on the phone. When he heard you come in, he turned to face you, his expression hardening.

"What the... Didn't you know? I'm talking about the girl who pretended to be Melanie Johnson and tricked you. Given your social status, her intentions were pretty obvious. People like her are dangerous; you should get rid of her before something bad happens. Oliver should have informed you by now; I can't believe he didn't. Maybe you need a new assistant. And just so you know, starting a new dating service would be a good idea—something like that would never happen with my---" He hung up angrily, keeping his eyes fixed on you. The intensity of his gaze startled you; you had never seen him like that before.

“H-Harry,” you stammered.

“Is it true?” His voice was cold.

You swallowed hard. Had he found out everything?

He took a step toward you. “Your name isn’t Melanie. Is that true?”

You closed your eyes and sighed. “That’s right. I’m not Melanie Johnson. I’m—”

“Why?” he said, taking another step closer. “Why did you do it? Is this what you’ve been hiding from me? All this time you’ve been lying to my face. But why?”

“Harry, let me explain. I—”

“What a fool I was. I thought there was something special between us. I thought it would be different this time, but it was all a lie.” He seemed to be speaking to himself.

You stepped closer to him. “Let me explain. I am—”

“Get out."

You froze. “W-what?”

His eyes were icy as he looked at you. “Didn’t you hear me? Get out.”

You frowned. “You said you'd listen to me. Why won't you let me explain?”

In a fit of rage, Harry threw his phone against the wall, and it shattered into pieces upon impact. Startled, you watched as he opened the door and pointed outside. “Get out now.”

Frustration bubbled inside you as you fought to suppress the tears threatening to fall. You walked to the door and glanced back at him, but he wouldn’t meet your gaze. “I knew you'd break my heart. Thanks for proving me right,” you said in a cracking voice before leaving the suite.

He slammed the door behind you with a loud bang, making you jump, but it only urged you to run toward the lift. You had to get out of there immediately.

You ran out of the lift and hurried to the hotel’s exit. You couldn’t stop sobbing, and people turned to look at you, but you didn’t care. Your mind was spinning; all you wanted was to escape, to disappear forever. Oliver recognized you and started to call your name, but he didn’t even know it. Instead, he just watched as you dashed out through the hotel’s revolving door, then headed to the lift to check on Harry.

As soon as you were outside, you kept running, desperate to get away from the hotel. But after a few minutes, the cold wind hit you, and you realized something terrible: this wasn’t your city, New York; it was a completely foreign place. You didn’t know the streets, didn’t know the people. The short dress you were wearing left your shoulders exposed, and without your coat, you shivered. Passersby looked at you strangely, their gazes lingering on your expensive dress, high heels, flashy necklace, and earrings. You wanted to shout at them, “I’m just an ordinary girl with an empty wallet!”

Suddenly, Jack came to mind; he said he would wait for you outside. “Oh, what an idiot I am,” you thought.

Forcing yourself to ignore the stares, you walked back toward the hotel street, searching for Jack. Where was he? Then, suddenly, you heard a voice behind you. A man spoke to you in French, but it was clear from his tone that he wasn’t friendly.

When Oliver walked into the room, he was shocked to see pieces of a smashed phone and glass all over the floor. Harry had his back turned, staring out the window at the city. Oliver approached him carefully, knowing deep down that his worst fears had come true. Harry caught his reflection in the glass and turned his head slightly.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, sounding frustrated.

Oliver had been expecting the question, but he didn’t know how to answer. “Man, I’m really sorry. I found out yesterday and was going to tell you, but I thought it would be better if she told you.”

Harry turned to face Oliver. “You should have told me, Oliver. I should have heard it from you, not from my ex, dammit.”

“What did you say? Wait a minute, did Lucy call you? God damn it, I thought she was the one who told you.”

“What difference would it have made?” Harry shot back, his voice tinged with anger. “She’s a crook—a serpent in disguise who’s deceived me all this time. How did she pull it off? She even fooled Jack. What exactly was her scheme? Is she a gold-digger or something?”

“What do you mean? She didn’t give you the full story? They spoke to Jack, and she was supposed to fill you in.”

“Does she know him?” Harry asked incredulously, disbelief etched on his face.

“Of course she does. She’s working as a housekeeper at his house. Jack’s daughter, Melanie, forced her into this. The real Melanie didn’t want to meet you face-to-face, so she used her friends to hack the system. Jack must have been too embarrassed to come down here himself. But like me, he wanted her to tell you—”

In a sudden burst of emotion, Harry seized Oliver’s collar, their eyes locked in an intense stare. “What did you just say? What do you mean she was forced?”

“You heard me. The poor girl is like Melanie's puppet; she had no choice in the matter. It’s all part of a twisted game to keep you from marrying Melanie I guess. She’s trapped in it.”

Time seemed to freeze for Harry as he absorbed the weight of Oliver’s words. “What have I done?” he muttered himself, his heart ached.

“But I thought she told you. Didn’t she?”

Harry shook his head, his heart sinking. “She was going to, but I lost it—I was furious, and—”

“Dude... What have you done?”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, a wave of regret crashing over him, as if he were drowning in his own foolishness. “I told her to get out,” he muttered.

“Geez, isn’t that a bit harsh? No wonder she ran out of here in tears."

He shot Oliver a sharp look, panic flashing across his face. “What? Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. She just bolted from the hotel and disappeared into the streets."

Harry's gaze darted to the coat abandoned on the chair, a symbol of the moment he now regretted. He snatched it up, determination igniting within him, and rushed toward the door.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Oliver called out, his voice filled with worry.

“I’m going to find her!” Harry shouted back, his heart racing as he sprinted toward the elevator, desperate to make things right.

“Look, dude, I don’t get your language. Just back off, alright?”

But the guy kept closing in on you. You didn’t need to understand him to figure out what he wanted. As you stepped back, your heel caught on the cobblestone, and you went down. At that moment, a fancy car pulled up, and a man got out and walked over to you while the other guy turned around and took off. The man in the suit offered you his hand.

“Are you a New Yorker too?” He smiled.

You took his hand and got up. “Yeah, you too?”

“Yeah. I heard your accent when you told that guy to ‘back off.’”

You chuckled nervously, saying, “He really freaked me out; he was coming right at me.”

“But you were ready to fight him. I guess it’s not the first time you’ve had to run from creeps, right?” he replied with a grin.

“True,” you laughed. “There were definitely some in New York.”

He chuckled and offered his hand again. “I’m Alan.”

You shook his hand. “Thanks, Alan.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”

Just then, someone called your name from behind. You turned and saw Jack.

About time. You felt a wave of relief wash over you.

“I’ve been searching everywhere for you! Where have you been?” He was worried.

“I—I got lost and—”

“Jack?”

“Alan!”

They hugged, and you were surprised to see that they knew each other. Jack turned to you and said, “You get in the car, and I’ll be right there.”

You nodded and did as he instructed. Alan watched you intently while getting into the car, then turned to Jack.

“I thought you were in Marseille,” Alan said.

“I was, but then I came here. I had some urgent matters to take care of,” Jack replied.

“Is this pretty lady your daughter or something?” Alan asked.

Jack sighed. “I wish she were, but no. Let’s just say she’s someone I know. Listen, Alan, I really have to go now. See you.”

“See you, man,” Alan responded.

Jack hopped into the car beside you and instructed the driver to head to the airport, where his private jet was waiting to take you back home. Your phone buzzed insistently; it was Harry calling -actually it was Oliver's number but you knew it was him-.

You ignored all the calls.

“Do you have feelings for him?” Jack asked, his tone direct yet gentle.

You looked straight at him, then averted your gaze, unable to deny the truth in your heart. He picked up on the unspoken words and nodded slowly.

“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t go there if you care about yourself, you silly girl.”

You nodded.

“What about him? Do you think he has feelings for you?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. Even if he did at one point, he doesn’t anymore.”

Jack nodded. “I’m sorry about what happened. But when we get back, I can’t let you work in my house anymore. You understand why, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” you murmured.

“I want you to know I’ll provide a good severance package for all your service up to now and for everything you’ve been through. If you ever need help in the future, you know my number.”

Jack was hot-tempered but had a noble soul. He considered those he trusted as family, regardless of their social status. You looked at him, feeling grateful.

“Thank you, Jack,” you said with a smile.

He nodded. “Sure.”

All the while, your phone was ringing insistently, and you were ignoring Harry’s calls.

Why the hell was he calling?

Did he want to curse at you or something?

Finally, Jack held out his hand. “Give it to me; let me talk to him.”

You hesitated at first, but eventually, you handed it over. As he spoke on the phone, you looked out the window, feeling nervous about hearing his voice.

"Harry, it's Jack. Please stop calling her; I will be your point of contact on this matter from now on. I'd like to invite you to an apology dinner when you return to New York, and I'm willing to provide compensation as well. I'll be in touch with you soon." Then he hung up.

“Damn it, Jack,” Harry snarled.

He stood in front of the hotel’s front door, then something glittering on the floor caught his attention. He bent down and picked it up; it was one of your earrings—the one he had given you as a present.

“She must have dropped it while running,” he muttered.

Oliver came running toward him from across the street, panting. “They saw Jack leaving, but I couldn’t find any trace of the girl. Did you manage to reach her?”

Harry continued to stare at the earring in his hand. “Ollie.”

“Yeah?”

“Call the pilot; we’re heading back to New York.”

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thevoidstaredback · 2 months ago

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Part 3

Danny realized, just as dawn was lighting up the world around him, that he knew almost nothing about the world outside of the USA. Even Canada and Mexico were barely footnotes outside of a chapter or two throughout all of his schooling! So, he landed just as a city came into view, let himself warmup with the release of his ghostly transformation, and pulled out his phone to figure out where the hell he was.

With barely any reception, Danny found himself to be just outside Monterrey, Mexico.

"Monterrey, Mexico, the capitol city of Nuevo León, boasts a sprawling business and industrial center. Spanning 125.3 square miles (324.8 squared kilometers), the city is home to ~5,341,177 people. The city is just over 428 years old, having been founded in the 16th century. Notable places to visit, such as Palacio del Obispado (1787-88), Museo de Arte Contemporáneo (2001), Faro de Comercio (1984) are recommended visits for people new to the city."

Sometimes Google was useful.

It was early morning, but the streets were already coming to life with music and voices. Suddenly, the tiny little world Danny'd been trapped in his whole life seemed so dim.

Everything was more beautiful than he'd ever noticed before. Brighter, more colorful, more musical.

Was this what Dani saw every time she left Amity? Was this how she always saw the world? He could see the appeal.

The brand new sights and smells and sounds overwhelmed him as the sun rose higher in the sky, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. It was almost the same kind of overwhelming feeling he got when he thought about space; good and begging for him to feed it.

He walked on, passing hundreds of people all speaking a language he didn't know-

Ah. He'd better pick up on it fast. It'd be rude to demand they speak his language in their home, right?

He pulled out his phone and took a quick selfie to send to Jazz, unable to stop his grin.

"It's so colorful," he told her, "I can see why Dani likes it so much out here."

She didn't respond, but he didn't expect her to. Not for a while, at least.

He texted Dani next. The same picture, though all he said was "Monterrey, Mexico."

Dani answered before he could even put his phone back in his bag. She, too, had send a selfie captioned, "Cobán, Guatemala, bitch!"

He laughed.

There was a chuckle behind him. "Un turista, ¿no?"

He turned around, suddenly re-kicking himself for not taking Spanish in school. Putting on his most apologetic expression, he said, "I'm sorry, I don't-"

The person laughed, wiping a fake tear from their eye. "Don't worry about it," they said in heavily accented English, "You're a long way from home."

He nodded. "A bit, yeah."

"You're not from a big city, are you?" It wasn't a question.

"How'd you know?"

"Stopping in the middle of the street is a good way to get jumped in any city, mi amigo." Danny shifted into a defensive stance, wary of the stranger. They laughed again. "Don't worry about me, I won't hurt you." He didn't believe them. they stuck their hand out. "Me llamo Alejandro."

He relaxed minutely. "Danny."

"Short for Daniel?"

"Just Danny."

They backed up some, their hands up. "I get it, man. What brings you to mi hermosa ciudad?"

"My reasons are my own."

"A fugitivo, got it."

"I'm not-"

"Relax! I'm not gonna turn you in. That's too much work. Besides, I know lots 'a guys like you. Not many stay in the city, but a lot of 'em start out here."

"Really?"

"More than you'd think."

Danny hummed. Then, he had an idea. "Could you teach me Spanish?"

Alejandro raised an eyebrow. "What happened to not trusting me?"

He blushed just a little and looked away, "Well, I don't want to not be able to understand anyone while I'm here, and you seem pretty friendly."

Alejandro shook their head with a smirk. "Way too trusting. Sure, I'll teach you, come on."

Danny followed after them, weaving between people and not running into a single person. Alejandro was all skill while Danny used a bit of intangibility.

Instead of taking him somewhere they could teach and learn in peace, as Danny had expected, Alejandro lead him through the city, giving a detailed tour of everything in the way only a local who loved their city more than anything could do. They knew every part of the city, every person seemed to know them, though they didn't so much as exchange a wave. A few kids stopped them and they played basketball in a park for a while before moving on.

Eventually, the day had to come to an end. As the sun was setting over the mountains, Alejandro lead Danny to a group of houses just on the playground, a bit more rundown with use.

"It's refreshing to see someone so full of childlike wonder when I show them mi hogar for the first time," they said, "Don't ever lose that, okay? Don't let anyone ever take that away from you, okay?"

There was a desperation in their tone, hidden, but loud enough to speak volumes of something that Danny wasn't privileged to know about. "Okay."

They sighed like something heavy had been lifted off their shoulders. "Good, good." They straightened up. "Now, for your Spanish lesson. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be speaking like it's your first language!"

The gleam in their eye reminded Danny of Sam when she was gearing up to explain the current activist page she was deep-diving; of Tucker when he was explaining the newest upgrade to his PDA; of Jazz when she was psychoanalyzing everyone in sight. It made him homesick.

He promised to have the language perfected before he left this city.

Part 5

Translation 1 - Spanish: A tourist, aye? Translation 2 - Spanish: my friend. Translation 3 - Spanish: My name's Alejandro Translation 4 - Spanish: my beautiful city? Translation 5 - Spanish: runaway, Translation 6 - Spanish: my home

#Everywhere But Home #part 4 #dpxdc #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc universe #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp #not entirely on prompt #but close enough #original character #most of my research is surface level wiki searches #please share more stuff in the notes!#i would love to learn more about the places Danny's taking us to!#DeepL Translate is the translator i'm using for the spanish #if it's wrong please correct me in the comments #as always i'll have the translations at the end

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rcvcgers · 4 months ago

Text

Rotten Apples ❦.ׂ

chapter six: friends? more like co-workers

masterlist , series masterlist , ao3 link

previous part | next part

18+ MINORS DNI

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: you and caleb ride the coelum express. a nightmare occurs. caleb and you head off on a work trip.

word count: 8.0k words

warnings: not proofread!

author's note: hi everyone! i just wanna say that pt.6 is lowkey like a filler episode! parts 7/8 are going to be plot oriented! they'll most likely be released next weekend! this one just needs to get us to the next angsty part ;)

content warning: reader touches caleb's crotch, mentions of cunnilingus/hickeys, lmk if i forgot anything else

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The expression on your face is absolutely adorable to Caleb. He loves the way your lips part, the shock and awe hidden behind your dark sunglasses, and he adored how you held onto the greasy breakfast sandwich just a little tighter when the realization that it is him at your side finally hit you. He tilts his head to the side, waiting for you to form some snarky remark or comment about how much you hate him or that he should throw himself off of the Coelum Express.

Sure, it is tiring to hear the constant negative comments, but it’s well worth it if he can spend another hour between your legs. Even losing more of his memory is worth it to see your face.

“I’m…” you begin to speak, voice falling off, “I’m too hungover to deal with you right now.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. He watches as you stand from your seat, shimmying past him. You aim for the doors but they close as room as you step into the aisle. The train rolls back before pushing forward.

You lose your balance but Caleb is quick to grab you. His large hands hold your sides. The Coelum Express’ pace quickens. The Colonel helps guide you back to your seat, helping you sit back down.

You readjust in your seat and hold the sandwich closer to your chest. Caleb hums in amusement, holding back a laugh at your failed escape. Slowly, you turn your back to him, revolving in the plush blue seat to face out the window instead of him. Caleb leans with you, trying not to lose sight of your face.

You stare out the train’s window. The breakfast sandwich stares at you, the perfectly cooked egg glistening in the morning sun, the lustful sight of the perfect breakfast meal making your stomach rumble. You take another slow and deliberate bite. You swallow the mouthful then turn back to Caleb.

His head is rolled back, chin tilted up, eyes closed. He lets out a quiet sigh. He spreads his legs open and readjusts his position, hands resting in his lap.

“Caleb.”

“Hm?”

“I have a question.”

“And I have an answer,” Caleb opens his eyes. His head falls to the side, purple eyes landing on you. His dark hair falls onto his forehead. Your arm twitches. Desperation fills your body; you fight the urgent desire to keep his face clear so you can memorize the intricate details of his face.

Caleb’s gaze softens. Your heart pounds in your chest, making your ears ring.

Why does he always have to look at you like that? Doesn’t he know how much it effects you?

Butterflies erupt in your stomach but you push away the feeling, clearing your throat. You break away from his gaze, looking at the train’s surprisingly clean floor, before turning your head back to him.

“Why are you here?” you ask. Caleb’s brows furrow for a split second before relaxing. He tilts his body towards you, reaching out to slip the sunglasses off of your face once again.

“I went to your house to check in on you but you weren’t there, so…” a smile flashes across his face, the man nudging your side, “I came here to make sure my pretty bird was okay…aaaaaaand I needed a ride back to Skyhaven. I killed two birds with one stone.”

Your lips press into a thin line and you stare at him with an expression that can only say one thing: really?

“You’re a Colonel…don’t you have your own, oh I don’t know, jet or plane or whatever to take you to to and from Skyhaven?” You lean into him, eyes narrowed, ready to pull apart whatever story he comes up with.

To your surprise, Caleb leans in, your noses just barely grazing over each other. You gulp and stay where you are, not wanting to back down. The man in front of you lets out a soft chuckle. He reaches up and messes with your hair.

“That’s for official business only, pretty bird,” he winks. You gasp and pull away, looking at your reflection in the window to try and salvage your hair.

It’s of no use. You might as well accept defeat now than go through more embarrassment that is bound to happen.

A yawn floats from your mouth and you’re quick to cover it with a cough but not quick enough to hide it from Caleb. He inches closer to you and flips away the small arm rest that separates the two chairs. You glance at him, another yawn threatening to escape you. You swallow it and avoid his gaze, taking another bite out of the delicious breakfast sandwich.

“You must be tired. You can use my shoulder as a pillow,” his words are oh so tempting. You could use a nap right now, even though it is still the early morning. The ride back to Skyhaven is a solid couple of hours…

Caleb watches you with a steady eye. You are completely zoned out and in a whole other world that he wishes he could be a part of. He wishes he can crawl inside your mind and pick apart your thoughts one by one, fully getting to know and understand how you think and feel so he knows exactly what to do to make you fall in love with him.

When your eyes finally meet his after a moment’s contemplation, you give him a shy nod. Without wasting another awkward second, knowing that you just need to get it over with, you close the gap between you two and rest your head on his shoulder. Unconsciously, you place your hand on his chest and get comfortable on his side.

Caleb’s breath gets caught in his throat, heart racing. He wraps an arm around your shoulders. It slips between your back and the chair when you readjust yourself, his hand now trapped on your side. His fingers rest against your waist, fiddling with the leftover fabric of your hoodie.

His heart beat is strong. Loud. You find peace in its rhythm and close your eyes, syncing your heartbeat to his. You also didn’t mind his hand staying on your side, the warmth bringing you comfort as you slowly slip into sleep on his side. Your eyes feel heavy, breathing slow, and your hoodie keeps the warmth in your side just right. It is the perfect conditions for sleep to take you away.

What’s that saying about your inner child feeling safe with someone? That a person is able to fall asleep quicker with someone they feel safe with? So, you guess that doesn’t hurt that you feel safe with him too, knowing that if anything bad were to happen that Caleb would stop it before it even got to you.

Maybe it’s the first sign of your heart actually opening up to him. Could a piece of you actually want him to hold space in your heart and mind? Or do you just like the attention from him?

You like to think, though, that you’re using him for his body heat and weird obsession with you. You know that he’d give you the world if you asked, so why not use him as a pillow?

Caleb watches the top of your head. Your hoodie is a faded red color and it somehow matches the hot pink sweatpants you have on. Those gemstones must feel like a bitch to sit on. So uncomfortable and so inconvenient for your sleep. He quietly huffs and pulls you closer to him.

Caleb takes the half-eaten breakfast sandwich out from your hands and wraps it back up, tucking it away in his backpack. He reaches over your body and pulls down the train’s blinds with ease so the sun doesn’t interfere with your sleep and wake you up.

Whenever you readjust on him, Caleb makes for sure that he molds to what you want, his hands keeping you tucked firmly against the train seats, not allowing you to slip off and onto the floor.

A yawn leaves his lips. The comfort of your body infects him with slumber of his own. He’s more hesitant to fall asleep though, fighting it away as the Coelum Express slips through the clouds at a tilted angle, your weight fully relying on him now.

He switches his position and tries his best not to wake you. Your sleep goes by unaffected and he celebrates the silent victory with a yawn and slow blink. He glances out the window, peering at the clouds that absorb the sun’s rays of light from behind the train’s shade. The sky is at the perfect shade of blue. It’s perfect conditions to go flying. Caleb looks down at you, a small smile spreading across his face. He pushes away loose strands of hair out of your face, tucking the hair behind your ear.

Before he knows it, he’s fallen under the depths of slumber, falling in beside you.

Caleb wishes that it was you who tapped him out at his DAA graduation. He could see the image so clearly.

The sky is just as blue as it is now with a few fluffy, white clouds hanging in the sky. He’s been standing in the summer heat for hours as the ceremony ticked by, going through the motions and chants that he and his platoon memorized. His purple eyes tried to find you in the crowd, to see where you were hiding in the bleachers the base set up for the ceremony.

Were you in the pink floral dress? No! You’re in the jean jacket holding a large bouquet of flowers! No…that isn’t you either. Mayne you’re wearing all black with the cool sunglasses!

Anticipation would have bubbled up inside of his chest. When Caleb finally took his place among other DAA graduates their uniforms crisp and clean, he couldn’t wait to see you. His eyes would dart all around, taking secretive cover under the shade from his cap, scanning the crowd to see where you are and when you were bound to find him.

When he finally spotted you, his heart skipped a beat. Your dress is a light blue, matching the sky perfectly. Your hair hangs over your shoulders, the top half pulled back by a thin white ribbon, and frames your face so perfectly. He can see the shine from your glossy lips as you approach him, hands behind your back.

The tease you are, you’d stand in front of him for a few minutes, which in turn feels like hours to him. He has to hold back the urge to not break out of his stance, to not sweep you off your feet and give you such a sweet and tender kiss right then and there.

“Don’t break on me, flyboy,” you’d tease with a smile. His face didn’t crack, though. Caleb had to show you just how strong he is, even if it’s resisting the devilish temptation that is you and your beautiful face and gorgeous body.

Fuck, he is so in love with you.

You even circled him. Your hair got caught in the wind, the white ribbon in your hair sweeping across his vision. Once you returned in front of him, that’s when you tilted your head to the side, eyes meeting his. You would have taken a step forward, closing the gap, and rested a single hand on his chest, fingers spreading across the dark navy fabric of his dress uniform jacket.

Caleb would have grabbed you so fast, pulling you in for a tender kiss. Oh, how he’s missed you. His pretty bird, his one and only. You would giggle against his lips, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it onto your own. He’d dip you down and kiss you some more, showing everyone that you are his and his only.

Life is funny, though, and life is so fucking cruel that Caleb wishes he can turn back the clock and race to you instead of her.

You’re too tired to dream like Caleb. You are in purgatory, mind not imaginative enough for a dream or nightmare to occur, nothing to make you cling onto. Your arms are crossed over your chest, Caleb’s hand now fulling resting on your stomach, slipped under your hoodie, fingers spread out across the thin tank top you wear.

So little layers between you.

Caleb stirs in his sleep. His right arm flexes, fingers digging into the material of your tank top. His touch leaves red marks on your skin. You don’t wake up, though, and remain under the ignorance of unconsciousness.

His brows knit together. Beads of sweat form on his forehead. His grip on you tightens, his right fingers burying deeper and deeper into your skin. He’s sure to leave purple bruises behind, to mark your skin as a temporary scar of his trauma and fears.

All Caleb sees in his dream is you. As soon as he lifts you back up from the dipped kiss, you’re snatched away from his arms by Farspace Fleet soldiers. You claw at the air, trying to get back to him tears running down your face. Caleb’s yells and protests fall on silent ears, the world around him turning a blind eye as you’re dragged away and into a gargantuan transport aircraft that sits nearby.

He sprints after you, his right arm extended out. You cry out his name. Your screams are animalistic and filled with nothing but terror. You try your best to break free from the guards but are quickly sedated by a familiar face: Professor Lucius.

Caleb reaches the aircraft, running up the tilted door. Suddenly, darkness overtakes him it’s as if he’s pushed out of the plane. He drops through space, stars and galaxies passing him by while your screams and cries for help make his ears bleed. He collides with the ground, a loud smack reverberating against the damp, concrete walls.

He opens his eyes and tries his best to focus on the scene in front of him.

You’re alone in a familiar room, one that he’s had plenty of visits to, and are tied to a lab table. The Professor’s eyes travel your body up and down, wires and needles threatening to poke into your skin. He drags his grimy fingers along your pure skin and Caleb fights to break free from his restraints, unable to stop the Professor from turning you into a lab rat. Just another one of his experiments.

He claws against the metal restraints, his right arm in agony as the professor fixes the dents and scratches that Caleb accumulated on the metal.

All he can do is watch. Watch as the professor’s minions, like Viper, touch and feel your body. Their laughs are like nails on a chalkboard. They contemplate what they should do to you.

Body modification? Should they see if we can give you an Evol of your own? Maybe Viper can wipe your memories and take you, the most perfect specimen, as his own.

His body goes cold as he screams at them to stop, to leave you alone.

“She’s innocent in all of this! Take me instead! Do whatever you want to me! Please! Spare her!”

Caleb is forced to watch as your body convulses on the metal table. To watch as the professor orders Ever’s nurses to invade your body, cutting into your skin to turn you into a mix of flesh and metal…just like him.

They peel back your skin and toss it away, taking their scalpels and wires, fastened them onto your muscles. Your screams are blood curdling. Caleb watches as you arch your back, toes curled as they strip away pieces of your body, replacing them with mechanical parts.

The cherry on top? The Professor made sure to place a Toring chip inside your mind so you’ll remain perfectly obedient to him.

Caleb wishes to save you from the same fate he was subjected to both as a child and adult. He wishes that a needle never tucks itself under your skin, that your mind and memories will never be destroyed and wiped clean, to not question what is real and what isn’t. His reality may be shattered, but he will make for damn sure that yours doesn’t implode from all around you.

His life may be a guessing game at times but you are the silent cure that keeps him grounded through the darkness and black hole of his mind. He doesn’t know if he can let you slip through his fingers again.

You stir awake, eyes shooting open, staring at the headrest of the seat in front of you. Pain shoots through your hipbone. Tears sting your eyes and you look up at Caleb, who wears a pained expression on his face. Your gaze drops down to your hip, watching as his fingers force themselves deeper into your body. You gasp and grab his right wrist, digging your nails into his skin so harshly that it’s sure to draw blood.

Caleb doesn’t even react to your harsh touch.

“No…” Caleb groans in his sleep, “don’t…don’t touch her…”

“Caleb?” You try to move your hips away from him but he pulls you right back to him. ��Caleb…wake up, please! Y-You’re hurting me!” You rapidly smack his chest before grabbing his shoulder, giving it a firm shake.

His eyes don’t open but his grip on you somewhat loosens. You’re able to remove his hand and free yourself from the aching pain that shoots through your side. Your body shudders and you push yourself against the side of the train.

Caleb stirs beside you. His arms gently jerk around, reaching for something that isn’t there. His fingers grasp at nothing, dropping to his thighs in a sorrow defeat. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down at an uncontrollable speed. His body flinches, a quiet whimper popping out from his lips.

You wipe away a single tear that rolls down your cheek, pushing through the lingering pain. Caleb turns in his seat, facing you, fingers trembling before gripping the material of his pants. You reach out and slide your hand on top of his, the other one going to cup his cheek.

The pad of your thumb grazes his skin, bringing him some comfort, trembling under your touch. You squeeze his hand and slowly bring yourself closer to him, not even realizing that the Coelum Express is about to pull into Skyhaven’s station.

What could he be dreaming about? You think to yourself and swallow the lump that formed in your throat.

“Caleb? Wake up for me, yeah?” You softly coo to him. “Come on, Colonel, come back to me.”

His purple eyes flutter open, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He stares at you and looks completely bewildered, widened eyes and flared nostrils. You retreat back into your seat, slowly letting go of his cheek and hand. Caleb brings you back into his embrace, though, and fully brings you onto his lap.

Your legs drape over his lap and they hang out into the train’s aisle. Caleb buries his face into your neck, his nose smushing into your supple skin. He slowly inhales. The familiar scent of your perfume fills his nose and his heartbeat comes to a slow before anything drastic happens, such as the chip taking away more of his memories.

“Caleb?” You whisper. All you can do is hold onto his arm that traps you against his chest, looking forward and through the window on the other side of the train.

Thankfully, you two sit towards the back of the train with other passengers clumping towards the front. A quick glance down the aisle shows you that the train has come to a full stop. Passengers stand and grab their belongings, flooding the aisle. You tap your fingers on Caleb’s arm, tilting your head to him.

“Don’t leave me…please…” he whimpers into your neck.

“Caleb, I…” you breathe out, his grip tightening on you. “I’m not going anywhere…but we do need to get off the train, okay? Let’s do that,” you watch as he pulls his face away from your neck. Your eyes meet.

His purple irises are strained, the white of his eye a soft pink color from irritation and glossy tears. You sigh and reach up, knowing that you’re just playing the part of a loving and comforting girlfriend right now so he can calm down.

He was probably dreaming of her anyways…

You don’t care about him and the way he feels. Your heart totally doesn’t ache and rip into itself while you peer into his grief-stricken gaze.

“Caleb,” you breathe his name out, bringing him out from his nightmare and back into reality. He looks around, sniffling, and you wipe away a tear that escapes from his eye. His gaze shoots to your hand, then back to your eyes, but you look away before your gazes can meet.

You push from his lap and stand in the aisle, stretching out your tight body, muscles relaxing. Caleb watches, wondering if your brief moment of affection was true to how you feel towards him or if you were filling in the role of his love so you can leave quicker.

“Come on,” you reach over him, grabbing your belongings, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “Let’s get you home.”

“Home?” Caleb repeats the word. You nod and look down at him. You need to get him off the train, yes, but you also need to make for sure that he’s stable again. Something about this encounter leaves you feeling uneasy. You’re unsure of how to respond to his whimpers and cries, the way he held onto you like you are his lifeline in life.

“You’re okay, right?” Caleb grabs your waist, pulling you back to him. He goes to lift your hoodie, to inspect your body, but you shoo away his hands, taking a step back. “I need to keep you safe,” he mumbles under his breath.

“I’m safe, Caleb, but we need to get off the train—”

“What if they’re out there?”

“Who?” You ask.

Caleb shakes his head, avoiding your gaze now. He draws his hands back to his sides and stares at the seat in front of him.

You stand beside him. Confusion racks your body, his sudden protectiveness giving you some whiplash. You bite your lip and notice that the train is no empty. You tap him on the shoulder, getting his attention.

“Why don’t you take me home, Caleb? So you know that I’m safe.”

Your offer shocks you as much as it does him. You hold your hand out to him. His eyes remain on you, steady and unflinching. A chill runs down your spine. You begin to retract your hand, an embarrassed blush creeping up on your cheeks. Caleb stands and takes your hand before you can fully rescind the offer. He locks his fingers in with yours, looking down at you.

“Let’s go,” determination is prominent in his voice. Caleb, without wasting another precious second that you have graciously given him, steps in front of you, pulling you behind him. He guides you towards the exit of the train, helping you down the stairs.

The train station is unusually busy. Hoards of people pass by and bump into you. Caleb pulls you into his chest and glares at the rude people. He turns his attention to you and slips your purse form your grasp, placing the long strap over his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He asks. You nod and smile long enough for him to turn around, face dropping when his eyes leave your face. The Colonel moves to the area where the train drops off people’s luggage. His hand remains firm on yours, leaving you no way of escaping.

It was a stupid plan, really, you offering for him to take you home. You certainly didn’t want to go to his place and have him kidnap you or whatever but maybe, just maybe, he thinks that this is your way of letting him through the first layer of walls you’ve put up around your mind’s castle.

No, you think, he just got past the moat.

“I can grab it,” your side brushes against his but he pulls you back, shaking his head. With a rare public use of his Evol, your suitcase slips through the tower the workers have built and it glides across the floor, making its way towards you. You try to hide your face behind an ashamed hand, not particularly enjoying the annoyed looks and glares that people send your way.

It doesn’t matter, though. Once Caleb grabs hold of your suitcase’s handle, the two of you are already walking out the train station’s doors, stepping into the bright and sunny day.

When you first moved to Skyhaven, seeking refuge on the floating city to get as far away from Linkon as you possibly can, you were shocked by how bright the sun is. Obviously, the sun is bound to be brighter since you’re sitting high in the atmosphere, not having as many ozone layers to protect you as you would in Linkon. The blaring sun, matched with unpredictable weather, left you reeling from the constant changes. A jacket became a solid part of your wardrobe, anticipating quickly forming rain and thunder, but to also protect you from sunburns that the sun was sure to give you.

You look up at Caleb, eyes catching the sun through the strands of hair that fall onto his forehead. The sunlight is warm on your skin, the wind just chilly enough to justify your hoodie, and Caleb’s calloused hand keeps you walking at a brisk pace, your much shorter legs unable to keep up with him.

Skyhaven’s beauty shines today. You watch as high altitude birds take rest on planted trees and how the flowers and bushes sway with the crisp wind. Unconsciously, you found your hip attached to Caleb’s, your sides never leaving each other’s touch, walking along the pathways. The two pairs of feet move in sync with each other, acting as a complete unit.

“Are you okay?” Your question slips from your lips before you can stop it. You cringe and look away from Caleb’s sight.

The sidewalk is sparkling clean, Skyhaven’s reputation of cleanliness upholding itself. There aren’t even any cracks in the sidewalk like there are in Linkon. You avoid stepping directly on the lines of the concrete, playing a game with yourself.

The two of you walk by a park. You stare at the children who play on the swing set. Other children scream and chase each other around, dipping between the pillars of the playground. A little girl runs up the stairs and yells at the boy to help save her from the other boy.

The boy runs up the slide and jumps in front of the girl, warding off the bully. You sigh.

“What makes you think I’m not?” Caleb’s question permeates your ear from behind. You shrug in response. His thumb twiddles with yours but you don’t move, not giving into his game. “I’m fine. It was just a bad dream.”

“Ah,” you say with a nod, kicking away a loose rock back into the boundaries of the park, “a bad dream.”

Neither of you press into it any further. It’s an awkward topic of conversation and you remembered that you aren’t entitled to his feelings and train of thought just how he isn’t entitled to yours. A bitter truth, yes, but one you ultimately accept with open arms.

You wanted it this way. You wanted Caleb to feel the sting of rejection and to always be scrambling behind you, trying to keep up. But this feeling…it’s a dull ache that pulls at your heartstrings. You know that you’re supposed to be angry at him, to be mad, but you just can’t.

Caleb has gone through so much. He is a survivor whereas you’re still rotten from your less than ideal childhood. Maybe you’ve gone too harsh on him.

Should you let Caleb back into your life? Should you accept his friendship and see where it takes you?

Your apartment building comes into view. You sigh and pick up your pace, finally keeping up with his long strides. Your connected hands swing between your bodies. The apartment grows closer and closer. Caleb can’t help but feel sorrowful since his time with you is coming to a slow end.

His grip on your hand tightens, allowing you to take the lead now. Caleb watches the back of your head, loving the way your hair bounces with every step you take, watching as the oversized hoodie slips to the side, exposing a small sliver of your shoulder.

He’s going to miss this small moment of domesticity with you. He’s going to dream about how you let him hold your hand, how he was the one who got to carry all of your belongings, that he is the one who pushes your suitcase for you. Nobody else. It’s a small victory to him.

Let me in, Caleb thinks to himself, I promise to never hurt you. Let me protect you.

You walk inside the building with Caleb following behind. The elevator ride is quiet. The only sound comes from there quiet dings of the passing floors. Your suitcase separates your bodies, acting as a barrier, his hand resting on top of yours on the handle of the suitcase. Caleb’s eyes never leave the side of your face.

Somehow, his gaze makes you feel so small yet so seen. His attention is warm, but is it a warmth that you even want?

Your conflicted feelings towards him leave your head feeling so much more dizzy than your hangover did.

His gaze dips below your eyes, moving towards your lips. A faint frown is on your lips, one that he knows would taste bittersweet if he were to close the distance and kiss you. A kiss that would leave him hungry with the hopes that you’ll be hungry for him as well.

Caleb digs his heels into the ground as you tug him down the apartment hallway. The sunlight graces the floor, illuminating the hallway with the bright afternoon light. The man pulls against your touch but you pull back, dragging him down the hallway, towards your sanctuary where you can fully be yourself with no prying eyes watching.

Once the two of you are at the door, you drop his hand and open it to him. He sighs and hesitantly places your purse into your palm, watching as you fish out your set of keys.

He should have stolen them last night when you were unconscious in bed. He should have seized the opportunity to make a spare set just in case you need someone to come save you. Just a spare key that only he has. A key that grants him access to your safe place. Caleb is patient, though, and is more than willing to wait however long it is until you learn to trust him.

“Thanks for walking me,” your voice brings Caleb out of his thoughts. He turns to you and smiles, his nod mechanical. You don’t notice, though, and slip your suitcase inside. “I hope you’re able to sleep well, Caleb.”

“Me?” He points to himself. “Why wouldn’t I sleep well?”

“You were holding on tight to me and wouldn’t let go. I think you bruised my hip,” you admit with a breathy chuckle.

“Did I?” Caleb drops down to his knees. Without notice, he pushes up your hoodie, calloused fingertips scraping against your smooth skin. Your eyes shoot open, butterflies fluttering inside your stomach, heart pounding. You tap his shoulder, watching as he examines the fresh, small bruises that are the size of his fingertips. The bruises are a dark plum color and, strangely enough, they compliment the color of the hickeys he gave you on your neck. “I’m…I’m so sorry.”

“No! No, it’s…it’s okay, really,” you grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him back up. He looks down at you with sorrowful eyes. You sigh and rest your hand on his chest. “Don’t stress over it. It’s okay.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose.

Why would he do that to you? How could he have allowed himself to do that?

“Go home, Caleb,” your eyes float to his, “go home and get some rest for me, okay?”

“Anything for you,” Caleb slowly nods, absorbing your command into his mind. “Will I…see you tomorrow? At work?”

A small smile creeps onto your lips. You look at him and bite your bottom lip, the man having to fight his inner demons not to reach out and release your lip from your teeth, to not replace it with his own.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow,” you nod and let go of his chest, the Colonel suddenly feeling so cold without your touch, and you disappear inside your apartment, locking the door behind you.

The next day could not come fast enough for Caleb.

Unable to obey your command and sleep, the Colonel stayed up through the night, watching as rainclouds pass by his large apartment windows. No lights are on, just the light from the outside world casting elongated shadows across his dark floors. The rain made quiet ‘pitter patter’ sounds against the reinforced glass, leaving him feeling soothed yet uneasy.

His dream lurked in the darkness of his mind, unable to give him a moment of peace. In the distance, he can still hear your faint screams and cries, begging for him to come save you. Yet he was unable to do a thing, completely worthless under Ever and the professor’s control. Your eyes pleaded at him to step up, to do something, anything!

But what could Caleb possibly do? He’s just as helpless as you are. No…he should be ablate break free from the metal cuffs that keep him chained in place. He should have used his Evol to crush the professor and his minions. He should have swept you off of that damn lab table and place you in the security of his arms, stealing you away so the world can’t hurt you.

How could he sleep? How could Caleb even dare to go back into his nightmares, rendering him helpless in your desperate plight for freedom. He knows it isn’t real, that it is a reality that he never wishes to see come into fruition.

His phone vibrates on the table beside his bed. Caleb grabs it and stares at the message on the screen, a small smile forming on his face. He sees your name and face lined up next to his on the digital document. He turns his phone off and settles into bed. The man places his hands behind his head and stares out at the dark rainclouds.

The Farspace Fleet had been invited to a week long meeting in another country, one that’s about seven hours away and is held in a new place every year, for a peace summit. Colonel Caleb, one of the Fleet’s newer and most impressive officers, managed to secure an invite alongside a few other higher ranking officers, such as Majors and lower ranking Generals.

The downside of the summit? The country hosting it spoke a completely different language.

The upside of the summit? Caleb gets to request you as his personal translator, keeping you at his side throughout the week. This way, he’ll know for sure that you are safe and nowhere near Ever’s clutches.

He wonders if you knew of the assignment yet. He also can’t help but wonder if you rejected the offer, passing it off to someone else. Fuck, he hoped you didn’t.

After all, you did promise to see him at work. If you were to decline, you would break that promise you made to him. Caleb will have to punish you for it if you broke it.

Spending a week with you at his side sounds like paradise. Besides, he isn’t the one people are bound to flock to. They’ll pay more attention to the generals who show up and not him. His lower rank will give you two enough cover to run out and do your own things, leaving the peace summit behind.

Caleb will use this time alone to truly learn everything there is to know about you. You haven’t seen each other in years, after all, so this serves a great time for you to tell him about your favorite colors and foods, which genre of movie you adore, which position you prefer to be fucked in, and if you have somehow accumulated any more allergies since your childhood.

Your cooperation is integral for his plan. All you need to do is say yes, to give in to his lead, and play the role of loyal translator while he picks your brain apart in-between meetings. Maybe you’ll give him a second chance at a shared dinner. He knows of a fantastic restaurant in the other country. It’s even located in the hotel you’ll be staying at. How convenient!

Caleb showed up early the next morning.

His Colonel uniform is neatly pressed, not a wrinkle insight, his hat perfectly straight on his head, tie secured around his neck. He glances down at the medals and golden ropes on his uniform. They mean nothing to him. He does not really hold militaristic accolades in as high of a regard as he does with your validation.

Maybe if it were you handing out the medals and awards, Caleb would learn to give a damn about rank in his life.

The Colonel occupies a small portion of the space next to one of the few smaller aircrafts that will transport the Fleet members to the neighboring country. His dark aviators remain on his face, shielding him from the bright morning light, coffee cup in his hand. He has one for you tucked behind him on the steps of a ladder on the side of a fighter jet.

Fleet members show up one by one, passing off their bags to low ranking employees, who load them into compartments inside the aircrafts. His purple eyes remain steady on the crowd, people keeping a cautious distance from him.

He spots your neat head of hair, watching as you and another girl talk with one another, suitcases rolling along the long and marked tarmac. Caleb grabs your cup of coffee, slowly making his way where the luggage drop off is. Soldiers and ground control people stop to salute to him as they pass, scurrying away to complete their jobs. Even other translators, some of whom he rejected in favor of you, nod their heads at him.

You don’t, though. You stare at him with your hands on your hips, a slight scowl on your face. You narrow your eyes at him, watching as he closes the gap between you two. Electricity surges throughout your body as he grows near, holding out the coffee cup to you. You stare at it, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to say no to coffee,” Caleb quips, his voice cheery and teasing while his face remains emotionless. It sends chills down your spine how easy it is for him to feign indifference or to fake being happy.

“What strings did you pull to get me selected for this?” Your question is direct, straight to the point. Caleb chuckles and takes another step towards you. He’s less than an arm’s length away. His purple eyes look over the metal rims of his sunglasses, coffee now being placed in your hand. “What did you do to it?”

“I ordered it just how you like it. Then I put it in my car as I drove here. After that, I set it on the ladder of a fighter jet,” Caleb’s play by play makes you roll your eyes. You stare down at the lid and grumble under your breath. You force yourself to take a sip, the sweet nectar of the caffeine gods hitting your tongue.

Oh yeah. You needed that.

“Don’t think that this makes us friends,” you point at him, sharpening your gaze. Caleb rolls his eyes and leans down.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you’re playing hard to get with me right now, pretty bird,” Caleb smirks, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. You shiver and push him away from you, rolling your eyes.

“What makes you think we’re at the friendship level, Caleb?” your question is bold. He likes that about you.

“I know how you taste, pretty bird,” Caleb’s eyes darken for a split second. Chills run down your spine, the memory of his face buried between your thighs reigniting the warmth between your legs. “I know how you sound…how one flick of movement earns me the most sultry sounding gasp—”

“Okay! Point made! You win, Colonel!” You interrupt him, covering his mouth. He chuckles against the palm of your hand, peeling it off of his skin.

“So we’re friends?” Caleb inquires, taking your hand in his. He too can be bold. He glances to the side. Nobody watches them; they are all too engrossed in their own conversations to notice the Colonel flirting with his assigned translator.

“Friends…” you gulp, watching as he laces his fingers into yours, “I think I prefer the term ‘acquaintance’.”

Caleb yanks you into his chest. You gasp, the coffee sloshing around in the cup, as he looks down at you with a devilish smirk on his face. You lean backwards, making him pull onto you with more force.

“Acquaintances…fine. But you and I both know that we’re not going to be…acquaintances for long,” Caleb helps you regain your balance before releasing your hand.

Your eyes remain glues to him. Caleb turns away from you, the smirk falling from his face as he walks away, approaching other high ranking offers with a handshake. You scoff.

How can he be so shameless and effortless with his advances? And god dammit, it’s working on you.

You push your hair behind your ears, turning away in shame. You find your way to the other translators, slipping into their circle to hide from Caleb’s prying gaze. You can feel it on you even though his attention is elsewhere. His demeanor has dominated you. He has made himself at home in your mind, rendering you useless whenever you try to think of any other man.

It all leads back to him.

“Translators! Eyes here!” A voice beckons from behind. You turn to face a Captain, his uniform pristine and sharp just like his facial features. His eyes are a deep blue color and his hair is a golden blonde. He’s…so handsome. His voice is soothing and comforting. All of the other translators, who all happen to be female, swoon over the Captain’s appearance. You, on the other hand, remain steady in your stance, unable to swoon for his good looks.

Your eyes flicker to Caleb, who watches you from the corner of your eye. You tilt your head in his direction, pretending to stretch out your body to catch a glimpse of him. He wears an amused smile on his face, his eyes shielded behind sunglasses. He nods his head to the empty spot beside him.

It’s a silent command. One that you know all too well. His intentions, whatever they may be, are of impure, rooted in his own carnal desire. You shudder and turn away, goosebumps forming across your skin. You bite the inside of your cheek and watch as the Captain instructs the translators and you on your job.

“You are not negotiators. You are not on vacation. We are here for work, okay? Act like it. You all should know who you have been assigned to and know what languages will be required of you. You are the best of the best, so prove it. You will be flying with your assigned officer so you can get to know them and figure out a translating system that works best for them. Sound good? Great. Good luck.”

The Captain turns on his heel and leaves out vicinity on the tarmac. You can feel Caleb’s eyes burn into the back of your head. While all of the other women leave to go greet their officers, you stay where you are, watching as the Captain disappears inside the building.

“Was I picked at random? Or did you pull some strings to get me?” You ask, watching as Caleb’s shadow looms beside yours on the tarmac.

His chuckle sends chills down your spine, the man taking his place right behind you. His uniform grazes against your back. You freeze. His gloved hand rests on your shoulder, slipping towards your neck. Caleb removes your hair from your shoulder exposed light hickeys he placed on your skin not even two nights ago.

“I requested you but it turns out that you are quite popular among the other officers,” Caleb leans in, whispering into your ear. He smirks at you, watching your legs squeeze together, your face stoic. “Do you know how many favors I owe people now? You’re going to have to make it up to me, pretty bird.”

You turn on your heel and look up at Caleb. He wears a smug smirk on his face and you know damn well that he’s toying with you. How cruel of him. You suppose, though, that two can play this game.

Aircraft engines roar from the distance. From over Caleb’s shoulder, you watch as officers, soldiers, and translators pile into the air crafts, the last one remaining empty as a few stragglers wait for you and Caleb to hop on board.

Your eyes flicker to him, gaze as sharp as a razor blade. You close the distance and put a sweet smile on your face, just as your boss instructed you do so when you first arrived to the base, and rest your hand on his chest.

Frankly, there’s nothing wrong about his uniform. It’s perfect with no mistakes or stray pieces of lint that breaks the solid black color of the material. His pins and medals are lined in perfect sync and his golden tassels hang at the perfect distance. Your hand snakes down his chest, passing his stomach as your finger hooks into his belt loop.

Caleb looks down at your touch, goosebumps forming across his body as his boxers begin to tighten. He looks at you, eyes poking over the edge of his sunglasses, watching as your smile turns into a smirk. You drag a single finger lower, teasing him with such ease and grace that he initially thinks that you genuinely want him. Before he can say anything, you slap his crotch and push around him, heading in the direction of the aircraft.

“Come on, Colonel, our plane’s waiting,” you call from over your shoulder.

Caleb’s eyes land on you, the man cursing under his breath. He washes you with wide eyes. He tries to pretend that your touch didn’t effect him so much. He’s about to chase after you, to get some kind of revenge, when he catches your gaze.

The world turns to slow motion. Caleb watches as you pick up the pace to his aircraft. The smile on your face is devious yet contains an equal amount of playfulness. Your hair catches in the wind, sweeping over your shoulder, and there is some pep to your step.

To Caleb, you’re in the baby blue dress from his dream. You’re calling out to him to show you around the DAA base, the bouquet of flowers you got for him in your arms. You wave your hand at him, beckoning to follow, and he does like the lovesick puppy he is.

#lads caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x non!mc reader #love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #rcvcgers writings #lads caleb angst #caleb lads angst #lads angst #rotten apples ❦︎

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strwbabydoll · 8 months ago

Text

The Feeling Came Late (I'm Still Glad I Met You)

pairings: grumpy!college student! Harry x fem! sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this toh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter 3/? (wc: 4.8k)

masterlist

001 | 01 | 02 | 03

Chapter 3 - The First Session

The sound of a muffled alarm is barely heard in Harry's room, he’s too busy being occupied with other things.

"Oh fuck, just like that baby. Doing s'good f'me." Harry moans as his grip tightens in the brunette's hair. Her mouth feels heavenly as she chokes on him, her throat tightening around his tip when she takes too much. He rolls his eyes back and curses out loud when she slows her pace, her tongue circling his tip when she reaches it before slowly gliding back down.

She pulls away long enough to spit onto her hand and quickly takes his leaking dick back into her more than welcoming mouth. She begins to bob her head slowly as she uses the hand she spit on to quickly jerk off the rest she can't fit in her mouth. Harry hums in appreciation as she slows her pace again, taking her time to suck him off.

Harry can feel the spit dripping from her lips and onto the fern tattoos on his v-line as she continues, alternating between fast and slow, and she experiments with different things. As she comes back to his leaking tip, she runs her tongue over the slit and Harry shakes in pleasure.

"Oh fuck, just like that baby. You're g'nna make me cum, your mouth feels so good." He says between moans when she picks up her pace and uses the hand that was wrapped around him to cup his balls as she moans softly around him.

He can feel his stomach beginning to tighten as he slowly begins to fuck her mouth. He's close, he's so close he can taste it as she goes lower and lower. More spit falls from her lips and she begins to get messy, more careless, just wanting to taste his seed going down her throat. The sound of her soft gags and the wet sounds of him slipping in and out of her mouth only egging him on.

She speeds up just slightly and goes back up, choosing to suck softly on just the tip. He can feel his balls drawing up and his length beginning to twitch as his hips begin to falter.

"Oh fuck, I'm cumming, s'good baby. So good for me, that's it, swallow it all." He moans as he slowly continues thrusting in her eager mouth, milking himself for all he's worth as his eyes flutter shut and he releases the grip on the brunette's hair.

He sighs as she gets up and sits next to him, her hand gently rubbing small strokes on his thigh as he comes down. He can feel her begin to kiss his jawline softly, slowly trailing down his neck and he hums softly.

"Wait, what’s that sound? Do you hear that?" He asks as his eyes open and he looks around, the sound of his alarm is audible but just only barely. He quickly gets up from his bed and scrambles around his room in search of the small item.

Quickly grabbing a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers from his dresser, he yanks them on before searching the pile of clothes on the floor. In the process of him pulling his pants up to search the pockets, the desired phone falls and lands onto the brunette's discarded shirt, the sound of the alarm becoming louder. He grabs it and stops the alarm and curses under his breath when he sees the time, the alarm’s been going off for over fifteen minutes.

He instinctively turns his attention to the halfway dressed girl sitting on his bed, and frowns.

"You gotta go." He says as he throws on a hoodie and some shorts, messily throwing his hair in a bun as he gets dressed.

"What do you mean you gotta go? Don't tell me your girlfriend is on the way?" She asks, her voice raspy as she frowns at him.

"No, but you gotta get out like now. I gotta go somewhere." He watches her shake her head as she searches for her discarded bra and curses at him, yelling at how horrible he is and what she's supposed to do now as he yanks a pair of socks on.

She angrily huffs as she walks out of his part of his dorm and slams the front door. He rolls his eyes as he slips on a pair of vans before grabbing his lone textbook sitting on the edge of the bed, heading to the front door. He gives a small pet to Delilah as he opens the door, telling the small kitten he'll be back soon and closes the door. He quickly locks it and jogs through the dorm building, down the stairs and outside towards the parking lot.

He's never been more grateful for parking nearest to the building as he quickly spots his car. He picks up the pace slightly as he gets closer to his car, the wind pricking at his eyes causing him to squint. The short jog feels like forever as he gets closer, close enough to unlock the door and reach a tattooed arm to the door and pull it open. He rushes into the car, pulling the door closed behind him as he puts the keys in the ignition and turns them, the car stuttering to life as he quickly backs out and begins his journey to the library.

He passes different trees, stores and restaurants on his way. The world seems to move in slow motion and he huffs angrily.

Fuck Y/N for being so smart and fuck her and her stupid schedules. He hates her, if it weren't for him needing a tutor, he'd be balls deep inside of the brunette from earlier.

— — —

He huffs in annoyance as he pulls into the parking lot of the library, choosing to park in the spot closest to the building he spots her bike sitting in the rack all tied up and he's kinda grateful she chose to stay. He turns off the car and quickly heads to the entrance as he clicks the button on his keys to lock the door. He opens the door and looks around, tall bookshelves lining the walls and standing in straight rows block his view of finding Y/N.

He huffs as he wanders through the library, eyes scanning for any sign of her in between the walls of books and at the tables scattered throughout the empty spaces. As he wanders through the building and makes his way to the back of the library, he can't help but to feel a slight flutter in his chest; it's definitely,actually there’s no way in hell that it could be, not one of excitement but he doesn't think he's nervous so he's not sure what exactly he's feeling.

His eyes scan over his surroundings and he finally spots her standing at one of the empty tables in the corner. He begins to slowly make his way over to her and he watches as she begins to put all of her belongings into the tote bag. Even though he can tell she's upset, it’s written all over her face, she still manages to gently place everything away. He clears his throat and she quickly turns around, her eyes narrowed and a frown sits on her face as she glares at him.

She gently places her bag on the back on a nearby empty chair and begins to cross her arms.

"You're late.." her voice wavers but he knows better than to comment on it. He chooses to avoid the conversation, simply nodding in response as he moves to sit down next to her bag.

"No explanation? I think I deserve something since you're over an hour late Harry. You were supposed to text me and let me know." She pulls her textbooks out from her tote bag and sets them gently on the table.

She sighs softly as she pulls a couple worksheets from one of her binders and sets them alongside the textbook.

"You know.. don't even know why I allowed myself to get upset, you were never one to be on time. This is normal for you, it’s my fault for expecting something more out of you, " She says with a small laugh and he furrows his eyebrows ever slightly, the frown only increasing with every sentence that comes from her lips.

He's never been so close to her like this and it throws him off. He can make out the mascara coated lashes that fan her cheeks with every blink and her perfume fills his nose which only increases his already grumpy mood. In a feeble attempt to distract himself, he scoots his chair away from her subtly and rests his head on the back of his hand.

The library's quiet, the only sound in the room is the humming of the air conditioner and the faint shuffling from the students as they walk around. The smell of old books fills the air and a few rays of light filter through the glass windows sitting high on the white painted walls. Students walk in, idly whispering among each other as they quickly silence their phones as they walk over the tall wooden shelves and search for the book they need.

His eyes quickly flit back to hers, green orbs meeting soft irises filled with annoyance as she tilts her head to the left ever so slightly.

"You're not even listening to me. I'm trying to explain all these so your attention would be very much appreciated." She says and he hums quickly, eyes staring straight ahead as he crosses his arms and leans back into the uncomfortable wooden chair.

As she begins to explain the basics of poetry, pointing to all the different elements as she lists them off, Harry can feel his mind wandering once again. Small glimpses of happier times, easier ones flash through his mind, quickly jumping from one scene to the other. He breathes through his nose in annoyance, the action not going unnoticed by Y/N but she chooses not to speak on it. She figures she'll allow him to wallow in his grumpiness as long as he pays attention.

She can't help but to sneak peeks of Harry as she speaks, turning her head ever so often as she explains what each element is and why it's important. A couple stray curls have fallen from his bun and framed his face, a furrow formed in the middle of his brows as he stares at the middle of his side of the table, and she can't help but smile softly at the fond memories.

"Reminds you of something?" She asks and all she gets in return is a very soft grunt, one that could be considered either agreement or disagreement.

She gently turns the pages towards the grumpy boy sitting next to her, her polished finger points to the beginning part of the poem.

"Can you tell me what this is?" She asks, her voice slightly above a whisper so he can hear her. He hums once, turning his gaze to her as a small smirk begins to form on his lips. He shrugs once as he pushes the paper away with one hand, his intense gaze never leaving hers. He watches her features begin to harden and turn into frustration.

Her brows begin to furrow and her mouth turns downwards, her eyes darting between his and the paper on the table as he pushes it away. She stares at him in disbelief before shaking her head and shutting her eyes, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose as she sighs.

"I can't do the work for you Harry, you have to do it so you can remember it. You don't wanna repeat again do you?" He hums twice as he keeps his gaze on her face, mapping out the three little lines resting in the middle of her eyebrows.

She brings one hand over to the discarded paper and pulls it back towards him, her eyes narrowing just slightly as she pulls her hand away. The silence is deafening as they stare into each other's eyes, frustration meeting stubbornness, warmth colliding with cold, two complete opposites fighting internally as the stare-off continues.

The sound of someone laughing breaks the silence, but it's only briefly; the air conditioning fans cold air throughout the building and goosebumps begin to form on the back of her neck. She sighs softly as she breaks her gaze away from his intense gaze, moving her hands to fidget with the ends of her long sleeves as she stares at the paper laying on the desk.

She knows he's always been stubborn so this shouldn't be a surprise. He's like this with everybody but she can't help but to wonder why he seems to treat her worse. She doesn't expect them to be best friends but he definitely shouldn't hate her. As her thoughts run through her head, she brings one hand back to the table and moves the discarded paper in between them.

"I cannot do the work for you and I will not do it. You should want to pass this exam Harry. I get that it's the first lesson and I wasn't expecting this to be smooth sailing - but I was at least expecting even the tiniest bit of cooperation here. It's okay if you don't like me, but for your sake can you work with me here? This will all be done a lot faster if you try." She says as she points to the paper between them, a finger pointing towards the beginning of the poem where they left off.

Harry stares at the paper briefly before reluctantly opening up the textbook laying in front of Y/N and flipping the pages to the section she's attempting to teach from. His eyes skim over the page, aiming to get the session done as soon as possible and for him to not have to hear her voice more than he has to.

He quickly finds the answer and he silently points to it. He can hear her sigh sadly and it's full of disappointment, he can’t bring himself to care though. It’s not like he asked to be tutored by her so of course he’s not going to make things easier for her, he only technically agreed to this because he’ll have so much fun making things annoyingly difficult for her. All of this is overwhelming for him, there’s just so much happening all at once. The ends of her hair graze his hand as she leans over just slightly to check his textbook page and her floral scented perfume fills his nose once more and he frowns at just how well it suits her, soft and sweet, inviting and comforting. Being this close to her for this long is affecting him, he thinks, messing with his brain and ruining his plan. He can’t let that happen though, it’d fuck everything up. A soft smile begins to form on her lips as she leans back to her own seat after looking over his answer.

"It wasn't that bad right? You got it right, good job Harry." She murmurs as she turns to look at him.

She takes note of the way his mouth is turned downward and she wonders how his muscles

aren't in pain constantly from having to sit like that all the time. It’s a little funny the more she thinks about it, seeing him always having a frown and the worst attitude and having his face stuck like that forever. She imagines him years down the line, working at maybe a tattoo parlor or wherever he chooses, at his wedding (if he ever manages to actually settle down) with his signature frown plastered on his face. She can’t stop the laugh that spills from her mouth, but quickly stops it. That doesn’t stop Harry from looking at her with narrowed eyes and raised eyebrows, it’s a brief look like always. His frown comes back as he shakes his head as if he’s shaking some thoughts from his mind. She pulls the paper to her and quickly marks it with her pen, highlighting important parts and little things she thinks might help him remember. She gently slides the paper back over to him and smiles softly.

"I've left some notes about everything so as long as you study this after we're done, next time won't take as long."

— — —

The time passes rather slowly but Y/N thinks it's simply because she's the only one talking. She's tried to initiate conversation with him, asking him about his classes, the latest tv show, and even attempting to talk about the weather! He refuses to talk to her, either replying with a blank stare, a simple huff or gruff hum accompanied by a shrug.

She doesn't mind the silence usually, but not when there's supposed to be a conversation. She thought he would take this at least somewhat seriously and she'd have to answer all of Harry's questions - work related and unrelated because she knows he likes to try to annoy her and get under her skin - and at least they'd make small talk about school, after all this is a tutoring session and she knows that he doesn’t understand everything she’s talking about. This silence is anything but comfortable, it's awkward and full of tension, it’s smothering and claws at her throat as it tries to pull out any sense of conversation; it's the kind of silence that makes her blurt out all these random questions and statements to try to fill it so she won't end up packing up all her things and running out as fast as her legs can carry her.

She should be used to this type of tension between them, the way he's always picking on her, throwing harsh words and nasty glares that she does her best to ignore. But to her, this tension feels different, it feels thicker; it could have something to do with the fact they're in close proximity, sharing the same table and the way her hair keeps grazing his hand which causes him to freeze up and scowl at her until she moves back to her side of the table, not that it’s much further than where she is as she looks over the paper.

She doesn't have to wonder if she's the only one to feel the difference because Harry's body language tells her everything she needs to know. She can see how tense his shoulders are, how he's been bouncing his leg from underneath the table for the past hour and the way he's moved his chair as far as the table will allow him but kept the worksheets and textbook in the middle so she can see.

Her phone buzzes from in her back pocket as she explains the different types of poems, she quickly excuses herself as she grabs her phone and unlocks it. She sees a message from her best friend asking her to come over so they can binge watch their favorite tv show, she smiles softly as she replies quickly - telling her that she'll be over as soon as her study session with Harry is over. She quickly puts her phone back into her pocket and goes to apologize to Harry when she's met with him already looking at her.

The frown is still plastered in his face and his eyebrows are furrowed. He still looks angry but he also looks confused, like he’s angry that he’s confused and curious about whatever is going on inside of his head. He looks lost in his own thoughts as his emerald eyes stay locked on her face. The silence that fills the building seems to become even more deafening because the look on his face is one she hasn't seen before and it confuses the hell out of her.

She doesn't know whether to comment on it or to simply ignore it and move on with their session. There's two ways this interaction can go; if she comments on his behavior there's a chance he'll get upset and leave early, and if she ignores it she's afraid whatever tension is happening between them will get awkward (even though it’s already awkward as hell).

She exhales loudly as she breaks eye contact, her eyes choosing to focus on the textbook in front of her instead of the viridescent orbs beside her. Her hands play with the corners of the pages, her thumb running upwards causing the pages to slide against it as they fall.

She bites her bottom lip nervously as her eyes graze over the words written on the page explaining all the different kinds of poems and the best way to use each one.

She can't tell how much time has passed, but she can't help but to wonder how long until their session is up. All of the silence and tension between them is draining her, all she wishes to do now is curl up on her bed and take a much needed nap. Her eyes feel heavy as she continues scanning the pages, her hand now resting on the bottom corner of the page.

She slowly turns her head to face Harry, she can't help but to see how tense he looks. His hands enclosed in a tight fist as they rested on top of the table, the frown prominent in his face seems to grow deeper every time she looks at him, accompanied by the deep furrow in his eyebrows, his leg bouncing rapidly underneath the table and his green eyes focused on the wall ahead of him. The question she was gonna ask is now stuck inside her throat, the fear of upsetting him any more takes over the want to make sure he understands the information they've gone over today.

She hums softly as she gently begins to pull the worksheet from beside him and closer to her. She grabs her favorite pen and begins to write a few small notes on the empty space on the bottom, leaving a few smiley faces in the corner as she makes sure to write clearly so he can understand everything.

Her notes are simple, but she feels like it's just enough to pass him over until they decide when to meet up next for their next session. She smiles softly as she looks over everything and then slides it back over to him. His eyes quickly glance over in her direction as her hand gets closer in his space and then quickly moves back to their original spot focused on the wall.

She can't believe how he's acting as if being close to her is such a problem, she's only seen him this quiet and stiff once but that was years ago. After he got over whatever it was, he started hanging out with different people, becoming louder and completely changed who he was.

That's when everything changed and now her mere presence bothers him deeply, one strong enough that he looks like he's about to explode if he has to stay at this table any longer. There's a faint beeping from the elderly librarian checking out books combined with the soft tapping of the keyboard as other students type up papers for classes and doing research that fills the silence that sits between them.

She opens her mouth but quickly shuts it, she's afraid that she's just going to upset him even more and then he'll call off for the rest of their session. She hates this, she hates how he always makes her afraid to speak and she hates how he knows that he has this effect on her.

She clears her throat and shuts her eyes, if she can't see him then she should be able to talk to him properly.

"I've written some more notes on it, and if it's hard to understand I can type it all out on a separate document and give it to you. I'll probably do that anyways if I'm being honest. Hopefully it all makes sense to you! If you have any questions or if you don't get something, you can always text me and I'll respond when I can!" She opens her eyes just in time to watch his figure make its way through the space and towards the entrance.

Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times before she finds her voice and at this moment, the frustration takes over the logic that she's still in the library. She huffs in annoyance as she slams the textbook shut.

"You could've at least grabbed the textbook!" She yells as his frame exits through the door, causing all the students and the librarian to look at her with accusatory looks on their faces.

She's too annoyed to even think about apologizing, gathering all the extra paper and the textbook as she stacks everything together. She grabs her tote bag and stuffs everything in there, mumbling under her breath as she clears off the table. She's upset, she's mad, and she's confused as fuck.

She can feel the tears begin to well in her eyes as she stares at the door, her hand clutching the strap of her tote bag as she holds it close to her body. She sniffles as she makes her way to the entrance, softly apologizing to the librarian as she passes. The short walk feels as if she's walking in slow motion, the door feels heavy against her hand as she pushes it open.

As soon as she steps outside and the sun setting in the sky paints the sky with beautiful pink and orange meshing together, the soft breeze blowing her hair behind her slightly makes her feel even more upset. The tears begin to fall freely from her eyes, staining her cheeks as they cascade down her cheeks.

She's upset at him for leaving so coldly after being late and barely even acknowledging her existence. She's mainly upset at herself though, she gave herself this stupidly false hope that this one session would somehow make it easier for them to tolerate one another. She's upset about arriving early and staying up later than she would've liked to plan out everything and print out the worksheets for him. She's just sad!

She knew that this wasn't just gonna magically change anything, and she knew that the first session more than likely wasn't going to be easy, but she wished that it went better than how it did. She felt a little embarrassed at how little attention he gave to the lesson, let alone her during the hour and a half they spent in the library as she checks her phone and sees the time.

She sighs as she heads to the bike rack and bends down to undo the lock holding her bike to the metal rack. She wipes her tears before setting the chain and lock in her tote and pulls her bike away, swinging one leg over the middle as she gets situated. She begins to pedal, her bike moving on the far end of the sidewalk as she begins to make her journey over to her friend's house.

— — —

She huffs, slightly out of breath from the long ride from the library to her friend's house as she sets her bike against the front of the house. She gingerly walks up to the white framed door and raises her hand to knock on it as the door

swings open. She's met with her friend sporting a big smile as she wraps her arms around her friend.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so happy to see you! Come in, come in!" she exclaims and Y/N nods happily. She follows her friend inside and sits beside her on the beige colored couch.

"So how was the session?" With the reminder of how it ended, a frown forms on her face.

"Oh it was so bad! First he arrived late, and then didn't even explain why! To make matters worse, he didn't even speak to me for the whole hour and a half we were in the library, and then he just walked out without even letting me know he was leaving!" Y/N exclaims, she can feel her eyes begin to burn as tears start to form in her eyes.

Her friend doesn't waste a second before she's embracing the young girl in her arms, wrapping around her shoulders tightly as Y/N begins to sob in her shoulder. She can't recall a time she was so upset, and it's almost embarrassing how this little incident is making her so upset. She just wishes everything that has to do with Harry wasn't so.. hurtful.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harrystyles #— 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one direction #harry fanfic #harry styles angst

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simblrcc-site · 8 months ago

Text

Simblr.cc - but better!

A lot has changed! Not only does it have a new lick of paint, it comes with way more features now!

Psst! If you are new to the site, please read this post first: Click me!

✨New Features

There are a lot of exciting new features:

An improved (Tumblr) importer.

A better Stories uploader.

A new lightweight uploader for quick, small posts.

A completely redesigned projects page with a fresh, modern look!

A redesign of the feed page + being able to like posts on said feed

You can now upload stories as "scenes" that appear on the feed, while still being part of a full, easily navigable story!

A new "Welcome" page, giving more people exposure to their stuff!

And... of course some bug fixes and teeny tiny User experience issues. 😉

🐦Lightweight Uploader

Something I'm super proud of putting together, the Lightweight uploader!

It streamlines the process of uploading simple pictures—no more navigating through multiple pages. Everything is on one easy-to-use page.

If you're logged in, you can access it directly from the Feed or via the "Upload/Post" option in the navbar.

Compatible Post Types:

WIPs

Gameplay

Personal

Lookbook

Familiar and Intuitive Features

If you're used to Tumblr's posting mechanism, you'll notice some recognizable elements:

Drag and Drop Images: Arrange your pictures to create collages! Each row holds up to 3 images, and you can add as many rows as you want.

Simpler Tagging: Tags are now easier to select.

Optional Titles and Descriptions: For WIPs and Personal Posts, titles and descriptions are optional. For other posts, they're still available but not required.

Streamlined and intuitive, the Lightweight Uploader makes sharing your content easier than ever!

📥 Improved Importer:

What's New?

New Importer: Pillowfort! We’ve added a brand-new import option: Pillowfort!

Tumblr Importer:

Previously, the Tumblr Importer relied heavily on your theme, which often caused errors if your theme wasn’t quite right. Fixing those errors was frustrating for both of us!

What’s changed? The importer now uses the official Tumblr API to grab your posts. This means imports will work flawlessly 99% of the time.

Plus, when you share a post on Simblr.cc, the importer will reblog it on Simblr.cc's Tumblr, giving you more exposure—that’s what Simblr.cc is all about!

What about past uploads?

I'm working to have the importer recognize whether your upload is CC or a Gameplay item (not live yet).

Support is being added to reblog posts from the old Tumblr Importer, so those uploads can still shine!

More import options are on the way in the future!

🖊 Improved Stories Uploader

Easier for Writers and readers! 😉

When creating a new story or legacy, you now have three options:

Chapter-Only Story

Chapters & Scenes Story

Scenes-Only Story

Important: All stories created before this update are currently set to Chapters-Only.

What’s the Difference Between a Chapter and a Scene?

Introducing Scenes! Previously, stories and legacies were strictly chapter-based, meaning you could only release a full chapter at a time. Now, with scenes, you have more flexibility!

A scene works like a storyteller’s post on Tumblr—it appears on your feed. This means your scenes can be shared on Simblr.cc’s Feed (but not the Stories browse page) even before the full chapter is published, making it easier for readers to discover your story.

Note: A "Scenes-Only" story works just like a "Chapters & Scenes" story—just without the chapters! 😉

Can I Change My Story Type?

You can change a Chapters-Only Story to a Chapters & Scenes Story. However, you cannot switch from Chapters-Only to Scenes-Only or any other combination.

Though, you will have to ask me to do this for you, due to the way it's currently set up.

Afterwords:

Note: Since this entire platform was built by just one person (me!), it might still have some bugs I haven’t come across yet. Please understand that most social media platforms have entire teams working on features like this, and therefore I can't promise a super "bug free" experience.

So, If you spot any bugs, please don’t hesitate to report them—it’ll help make the platform even better, and it also helps me out! Thanks for your support! 😊

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austinbutlerslovers · 1 year ago

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Master List 100% Smut

💝Romantic ❤️‍🔥Passionate ⚠️Hardcore 🚨Deranged 🏆 TOP

••••••••••••••••• New Releases ••••••••••••••••

🔗 Vernon’s Virtue 🔗 The Ransom Part II 🔗 Wedding Date

••••••••••••••••••••••••🔗Master List II •••••••••••••••••••••

🚨 Devotion 🏆 ✨

⚠️ Obsession 🏆 ✨

❤️‍🔥 Power & Control One Shot

⚠️Feyd Fantasy 1 Pleasure & Pain 🏆✨

🚨Feyd Fantasy 2 Baroness & Breeder 🏆

⚠️Feyd Fantasy 3 Kill or Be Killed 🏆

🚨Feyd Fantasy 4 Madness & Mayhem 🏆✨

⚠️ Feyd Fantasy Part 5 Endless Empire

⚠️ Feyd Fantasy Part 6 Brazen Baron

🚨 Feyd Fantasy Part 7 Honor & Heir COMPLETE

💝Wedding Date 7.1

❤️‍🔥Such a Daddy 6.15

💝Play Me 6.13

💝The Ball Game 5.27

❤️‍🔥Pleasure Palais 5.22

❤️‍🔥Marqué à Cannes 5.17

💝Attention to Detail 5.14

❤️‍🔥Desperate Desires 5.10

❤️‍🔥The Interviewer 5.8

❤️‍🔥The Tape 4.27

❤️‍🔥Before the Night Out 🏆 4.18

❤️‍🔥Unlocked Desires 4.16

💝Sugar Daddy 4.11

❤️‍🔥Quick-Take 🏆 3.27

❤️‍🔥Tied in Temptation 3.25

💝Physical Touch 🏆 3.18

❤️‍🔥 Daddy’s Doll 3.16

💝Romantic Rêverie 🏆 3.11 on

💝Without You 🏆 3.5

❤️‍🔥Cancun Heat 🏆 2.28

❤️‍🔥Don’t Choke 🏆✨2.26

💝Hideaway 🏆 2.21.25

💝Laced in Love 🏆 2.14.25

❤️‍🔥Just Between Us 🏆 2.9.25

❤️‍🔥Birthday Girl 2.7.25

❤️‍🔥Touch of Habit 1.30.25

❤️‍🔥Passenger Princess 🏆 1.28.25

💝Golden Glow 🏆 1.19.25

❤️‍🔥Overstimulation 1.16.25 🏆 ✨

❤️‍🔥Rebound Romance 1.9.25

❤️‍🔥Heavy Part 2 1.5.25

💝How We Became Us 12.25.24

💝Wrapped in Love 🏆 12.22.24

💝 Model Patient 12.14.24

🚨Edge of Desire 12.11.24

❤️‍🔥Buzzcut 🏆 ✨ 12.7.24

💝Thankful 11.28.24

❤️‍🔥Birthday Boy 11.24

❤️‍🔥New Fetish 🏆 11.22

❤️‍🔥The Massage 11.18

💝His Princess 🏆 11.13

❤️‍🔥The Red Dress 🏆 11.11.24

❤️‍🔥Heavy 🏆 10.7

💝Austins Praises 10.6 *update unlinked Fics saved in Materlist II

💝One Night in Budapest 9.16

❤️‍🔥Fight Training 🏆 (Sub Austin)

💝Avec Moi 🏆 (anniversary sex)

❤️‍🔥Ride Me (kink)

❤️‍🔥Lazy Day 69 🏆

💝Cat Daddy (fluff +smut)

💝False God (meet cute)

💝Austins Bath

❤️‍🔥Wet Dream

❤️‍🔥Hollywood Authentic Feeling

🚨Austins Angst

❤️‍🔥Work Me Like Wet Clay (very first fic ever ✨)

❤️‍🔥 His Every Desire 1.26.25 Master List II

❤️‍🔥 CEO Daddy 2.7.25

❤️‍🔥 Temptation 2.21.25

⚾️ Hank Thompson Master List 🧢

❤️‍🔥Broken Pieces 6.9

❤️‍🔥 What Are We? 5.31

⚠️ Poor Judgement 5.22

❤️‍🔥False Intruder 5.1

❤️‍🔥Home Run Hank 4.29

❤️‍🔥After Hours 🏆 ✨ 9.24

❤️‍🔥Kiss it Better 10.13.24

❤️‍🔥Jealous 10.24.24

❤️‍🔥Playing Dirty 11.4.24

❤️‍🔥Zip Ties 🏆 11.7.24

❤️‍🔥Another Load 11.15.24

❤️‍🔥Wild Hearts 3.31

❤️‍🔥New Neighbor 🏆 2.2.25

💝But Daddy I Love Him 1.1.25

❤️‍🔥Benny Cross Part 1: 🏆 ✨ Handsome Stranger 7.3.24

💝Benny Cross Part 2: The Vandals 7.16.24

❤️‍🩹Benny Cross Part 3: Playing House 7.22.24

❤️‍🔥Benny Cross Part 4: ‘Til Death 8.29.24

❤️‍🩹Benny Cross Chapter 5 🏆 Broken Promises 9.4.24

❤️‍🔥Benny Cross Chapter 6: For Keeps COMPLETED 9.12.24 🚨The Chase 🎃 🏆 10.19.24

⚠️ The Good Girl (one shot) 🏆✨ 9.23.24

❤️‍🔥Until the Bed Breaks (one shot) 🏆 ✨ 9.16.24 Master List II

❤️‍🔥He Knows Things (one shot) 🏆 9.6.24

❤️‍🔥Rough Ride (one shot ) 8.4.24

❤️‍🔥Strip for Me (one shot)🏆 6.12.24

❤️‍🔥Chokehold (one shot) 6.8.24

❤️‍🔥Hard at Work (one shot) 🏆

❤️‍🔥Vernon’s Virtue 6.28

❤️‍🔥Peak of Pleasure 6.11

🚨 Seeking Salvation 4.16

❤️‍🔥Contract Killer 6.6

🚨The Ransom 6.6

🚨The Ransom Part II 6.29

🔪 Patrick Bateman Masterlist 🩸

⚠️Under the Mistletoe 12.18.24

⚠️ Silk & Silence 1.1.25

⚠️ Drenched in Shadows 1.13.25

⚠️Star Student 4.1

❤️‍🔥 Wear You Out 4.16

❤️‍🔥Good Girl Gone Bad 3.26

⚠️Love/Hate 3.23

🚨 Pretty Little Secret 12.5.24

🚨 The Hunt (Austin Vampire 2) 11.19.24

⚠️ Blood Bound (Austin Vampire ) 10.30.24

🚨 Teachers Pet 🏆✨5.4.24

🚨 Mr. Butlers Babysitter 🏆✨

🚨 Mr. Butlers Babysitter 2 🏆 🔗 Master List II

🚨 Mr. Butlers Babysitter 3 🏆 5.12.24

🚨 Mr. Butlers Babysitter 4 COMPLETED 6.30.24

❤️‍🔥Eternal Ink 5.29.24

⚠️ The Belt 6.1.24

🪖 All MOTA Fics Master List 🪖

💝 Sweet as Pie 🎃

💝Major Gale Fantasy 1:He Racks You Down&Knocks You Up✨

💝Major Gale Fantasy 2 : Missing You Every Second

⚠️ Bucked & Fxcked 🏆✨

⚠️Bucked & Fxcked Part 2 One Last Buck 🏆

🚨Lake House Lessons

💝Well I’ll Be Damned

••••••••••••✍🏼 Upcoming Fic List 📖 ••••••••••••

Special thanks to @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @lindszeppelin for helping me create a masterlist 💗

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godmadeaterribleerror · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 4 - Release

Main Masterlist - Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, very light fluff, mutual pining, smut (oral both receiving, fingering, thigh riding), time loop!

Summary/Warnings: A lot of truths are revealed. Usual Warnings.

Author's Note: I love making up spn lore. The whole thing is made up anyway. I'm thriving.

Word Count: 6.9k

Chapter 3 - Read on A03!

You’ll have to learn how to entertain yourself.

Some part of you feels like it’s slowly and dreadfully withering away, but you’re here and never leaving, so you might as well make the most of it.

Lying on the sheetless bed, staring at the ceiling, hearing Dean swear from down the hall.

You’ll just have to entertain yourself.

“Son of a-“

You’re out of the bed in a minute. Running down the hall because fuck this, if you’re going to be here you might as well make the most of it, if you’re stuck listening to Dean say everything you’ve ever wanted him to in all the worst ways, you might has well make the fucking most of it.

You skid to a stop in the kitchen—narrowly avoiding the counter—and Dean stands a little taller, his gaze shooting between you and the mess on the floor as his hand goes behind his back.

“Morning, sunshine, what are you-“

No more waiting. It won’t matter in the end, and you have to entertain yourself, so any pointless dance around it would be like playing a game you already know you’d win.

You’d much rather have the prize. No matter how quickly it’s snatched from your hands, you really want the prize.

So you slam your lips into Dean’s, yanking him down by his shirt, and everything drains into Dean. Warm and firm against you, taking only a second to get on board with what’s happening and kiss you back. A rough, hot kiss that might have scarred you—teeth and spit, Dean cradling your face between his hands with a starkly different care, but still groaning down your throat and walking you backwards until you’re pinned to the wall—if you didn’t know the burn would be soothed by morning.

It’s why, when he pulls back with ragged breaths and a hooded gaze, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone and the priceless look all over his pretty features, you know what’s coming.

And you don’t care.

“I love you.” He whispers, and the light goes off.

But you’re still rolling.

“I know.” You start to fumble with his pants, his erection already pressed right to your hips, and you have all the time in the world, but you still don’t want to lose this. “God, Dean, I love you too, but if you don’t- shit-“

You try to fall to your knees before him, to ward off the cut of the cameras just a little longer, but Dean catches your wrist, pulling you back to your feet.

“You feeling okay, baby? I mean, I don’t wanna cut you off from, you know.” He nods down between your bodies. “But you’re getting a little, uh, touchy and frantic, and you don’t want to-“

“I want to.” Your words are quick. Desperate. You want to more than anything, because if you don’t, he’ll disappear. “It’s just been a long few weeks, Dean, and I- I really want to touch you.”

Dean nods, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist and murmuring against your skin. “How about if I touch you?”

His eyes are dark, filled with a promise you’d really like to see him keep, and hungry.

There’s really no point to denying him.

You nod, and Dean’s on you before you can even steady yourself against the wall.

Kissing a sloppy, open-mouthed line down your neck and over your shoulder, leaving small bite marks and bruises as he tugs your shirt up and your shorts down, and his hands are big and rough and everywhere, setting fire over your skin as he rolls your nipple between his fingers and goes down further-

If the fate you’re cursed to is Dean, eating you out like it’s all he’s ever been meant to do, over and over until your legs are shaking and you’re only sobbing his name as you cum on his face, you might be able to make your peace with that.

You’ll certainly never find it in yourself not to smile as him when he’s done, looking up at you with a wide grin and pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. You let your hand run through his hair, and it won’t matter, but you say it anyway.

“I really do love you, Dean.”

“I know.” He winks at you, running two fingers between the folds of your pussy with a smug grin, and pushes to his feet with that same hand still lingering on your hip. “C’mon, baby, let’s get you to a bed.”

You won’t be getting to a bed.

Because you nod, let Dean guide you down the hallway and fold his body over yours to shield your body from possible eyes, and lean into his shoulder with a sigh as you feel it coming.

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

You’re going to fucking entertain yourself.

This time, you go through the motions until you get to the library. Until you’re curled in your chair across from Dean, and he’s getting ready to grumble about the suit from the city.

“You still seeing that guy from the city?”

You look up at him with a hum and raised brows, and he sighs.

“The suit and tie asshole, from the bar last month.” Dean mutters, and your heart is supposed to tighten and feel like stone here, but it won’t. You won’t let it. “Sam said you were out with him last week.”

“I was.” You shrug, and look over to see Dean scowling at his book. “What are you going to do about it?”

That gets him to look up, wide-eyed and shocked. “I- uh-“

“If you’re so interested in who I’m fucking.” You set down your own book, and move to your feet, walking across the room until you’re standing between Dean’s legs. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, and just fucking say it.”

Dean’s eyes narrow on yours, and you don’t think he’s realized that he’s holding you near him by your hips.

“I don’t care who you fuck.” He grunts, and you give him a flat look.

“Then why’d you ask?”

“To make sure you’re being safe-“

“Why do you care if I’m safe?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I care-“

“That’s not answering my question, Dean-“

“It’s a goddamn stupid question, of course I care that you’re safe-“

“Why?”

“Because I care about you-“

“Why do you care about me?”

“Because I- Goddamnit, sweetheart, just drop it, I won’t ask about the douchebag again-“

“Why is he a douchebag-“

“Because he’s fucking you-“

“Why do you care who’s fucking me-“

“Because it should be me!” Dean’s shout echoes through the library, and he drops his brow to your stomach as he squeezes your thigh. “Shit, I- I know it’s not my right or whatever, you’re your own woman and all that, but I should be fucking you. He doesn’t love you. I love you.”

The light goes off.

And everything keeps rolling as you fall to your knees, give Dean a small smile, and pull his half-hard dick from his jeans.

You take your time, because the slower you are the longer this lasts, and the more you get to watch Dean fall apart for you. Throwing his head back as you pump his cock with one hand, groaning your name as you swirl your tongue around the head of him, hissing and grunting and fisting a hand in your hair as you take him into your mouth and suck him off like it’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.

In a few ways, it is.

And you can do this forever, too. Even if you get sick of the fullness of Dean in your mouth, and the salty and purely Dean taste of him on your tongue, you’ll never get sick of him watching you like you’re priceless as you pull away from him. Of his thumb swiping the cum drooling down your chin and feeding it too you with slow grin, and then leaning down with a chuckle to pull you into his lap.

The kiss is long and soft and slow. All affection. All love.

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

This time, you just call for him before he can drop the frying pan, pulling off your shorts and spreading your legs in a silent invitation.

“Hey,” Dean calls your name from outside, and he sounds a little worried.

You’ll make it up to him

“What’s- Son of a bitch.”

Dean looks between you and your pussy, already clenching around nothing from his attention, and swallows.

“You, uh- I’m not-“

“Dean.” You whisper, giving him your best doe-eyes. “Please.”

He swallows. “Are you-“

“Please.” You let your hand fall to your clit, rubbing slow circles until your words turn to a moan. “Dean.”

“Jesus- You’re- You’re so fucking pretty, but-“

You whine, and that seems to do it.

“You want me, sweetheart?” Dean’s voice is barely a rasp, and you nod desperately. “That bad, huh-“

“Dean-“

“Keep touching yourself, babygirl. I’m here.”

Dean moves right to the edge of the bed, and resting one hand on your knee to push your legs further apart, and starts to stroke himself to the sight of you.

You hope it’s a good one. Tangled in the sheets, your eyes glossy and not red with exhaustion, your skin flushed and all of it appealing to him.

Based on how Dean’s groaning your name and squeezing your thigh, how his pace had hit a blur of his hand as he doubles over your body and watches you with a starved expression, you think it might be.

He cums over your stomach, painting your skin hot and white, right as you hit your own peak with a breath of his name, and falls over you for a long, deep kiss that presses you into the mattress.

“I love you.” He mutters in your ear, sweeping your hair off your brow, the priceless look bright in his eyes. “Gotta clean you up, baby, I’ll be right back.”

You sigh as the light goes off, Dean pushes himself off the bed, and everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

Dean loves movies. It’s not hard to coax him into the Dean cave and watch a million of them with your head on his shoulder, letting your original plan slide right by in the feeling of Dean, around you and warm and strong and safe.

He’s slung his arm around you at some point, his thumb tracing small, slow circles on your upper arm, and you can hear his heartbeat.

It’s always the same rhythm, every time, without fail. The same pound, and then he’ll breathe in a slow rise of his chest, and you’ll allow yourself to curl a little further into his side. Your head rolling until it’s buried in his chest, and your arms somehow finding their way around his torso, and this was supposed to be about something else, but Dean smells like whiskey and evergreen, and-

“I love you.”

Dean’s voice is just a grunt in your ear, and you’re not sure he thought you’d hear it. His eyes even widen when you roll over to look at him, his mouth parting as you scan over his handsome, almost nervous face, and he thinks you don’t love him back. So many times you’ve never said it back, but he’s so pretty in the low light of the TV, and this might not be real, but Dean still feels more certain than anything you’ve ever known.

You don’t think there’s a world where you don’t love him.

Where this loop plays over and over, but starts much, much longer ago, and you don’t fall for Dean over and over. Where you’re trapped on that hunt where you met him, and he doesn’t walk into the house, and you’re not gone. Something in your will always body rearrange to fit Dean perfectly—just as he’s holding you so well now, as if wrapped around him is where you’re meant to be—and you’ll always love him.

In real life, you’d tried to shoot him. He’d burst through the door and narrowly avoided a bullet to the brain, then he’d roared a curse, and you’d fallen in love.

For a brief second, as you watch in him the dark, it passes through your head that the real Dean—the one not stuck in this loop, putting on this show, tormenting you like a puppet for an unknowable reason—really might not love you at all. And if he does, did, could’ve if you’d stayed out there instead of getting lost to whatever this is, you don’t think it was the same blow of lighting up his spine.

You’re lucky that this Dean loves you. It’s going to keep making you wilt, every time he says it, and that light goes off, and you know this will be gone in the morning.

But you still have him, now, before it all fades.

So you wrap your arm around his neck, pull him down into deep kiss, and let it carry you away. Dean twists you in his arms and pulls you onto his lap until you’re straddling his thigh, and you have this.

Pure, high pleasure as you grind onto Dean’s leg, his hands wandering over your chest and playing with your breasts—thigh squeeze, sunlight and sparks and open wound—the priceless look all over his face as you moan his name. He starts to suck and mark at your neck, and it’ll be gone by morning, but fuck, you don’t care because he’s shoved one hand down your short to rub circles around your clit, and-

You cum with a gasp, fall over Dean’s chest, and his chuckle rolls through your whole body.

“Son of a bitch, that was hot.”  

Yeah.” You nod in a tired daze, and press a kiss to his jaw. “I love you too, Dean. Just so you know.”

“That’s good.” He mutters, combing his fingers through your hair, and it’s starting to creep in.

You’d really like to stay here—warm and molded into Dean, cared for and still riding your high—but it’s not really up to you anymore. Most things aren’t.

“Do we, uh.” Dean swallows, and your hands fist in his shirt. Just to hold on a little longer. “It’s a dumb question, and you know I don’t really do this, but I like doin’ it for you, so do you wanna- Shit-“

“Are you asking me to go steady, Dean Winchester?” You smile into his shirt, and just a little longer. Whatever is doing this to you, you just want a little longer. “You got a crush on me?”

He scoffs, tugging on your hair until you meet his eyes. They’re darkened and hungry, but mostly full of love. You can really see it, now that you’re looking, and you’d like to think that the real Dean has looked at you like this before too, but you don’t really know anything anymore.

“If you’re gonna make fun of me-“

“You like it when I make fun of you.” You whisper, letting your lips brush over his as you speak. “I’d say you love it.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Say it, Dean.”

“I already have-“

“No,” you shake your head, and it’s so close but you need just a little more. “Ask me out. Say you want me-“

“You know I want you-“

“Dean,” you roll your hips down, right over his bulge, and he grunts, his hands on your hips tightening.

“You’re a piece of work, babygirl.” He mutters, shaking his head. “No one else I’d want to be my- Shit, it sounds so stupid-“

“I-“

"Girlfriend.” He blurts the word like it’s been caught in his throat, and you relax in his arms as the darkness starts to wash up.

You don’t get to say it back, and the anxious, tight look on Dean’s face might haunt you forever.

Even if he’s going with this loop, you hope he knows that you would’ve said yes. You always would say yes, if it was Dean asking.

And everything fades black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

Dean’s never been to the grocery store before. Not in the loop. So when Dean says Sammy, you goin’ out to get food later, and Sam responds I need to clean up, dude, I just ran ten miles, you cut the beast off at the head and tell Dean that he’s going shopping, with you.

You make it into the car.

“Sam put pumpkin pie on the list,” you hum, letting yourself giggle at the frown on Dean’s face. “Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll get you cherry.”

He pulls over. Suddenly, with his whole body tensed, and his eyes sharp on yours.

“I am not your buddy.” Dean’s voice is barely a growl as something seems to snap in him, and you let him haul you over his body and kiss you stupid, raking your nails over his chest and shoulders.

“Dean-“

“Tell me you want this.” He grunts, resting his fingers on the band of your jeans. “I love you, but you gotta-“

“I want this.” You gasp, pulling him back into another violent kiss. “I love you too, Dean, god, I need this-“

You cum over his fingers this time. Drenching his pants and taking ragged breaths as your brows press together, and Dean watches you come down with the priceless expression all over his face.

“Son of a bitch, that was hot.” He mutters, and you sigh. “If you really love me back-“

“I do-“

“I know baby, but-“ Dean shrugs, watching you carefully. “Why haven’t we done this before?”

You’re going to cry. It’s moving in, but it’s not fast enough to stop the first tears for falling as you shake your head, and cling to Dean like somehow, this time, you can keep him.

“I don’t know.” You whisper. “I really don’t know.”

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

Dean makes it out of the car this time. It’s different, doing this without Cas, but you still end up in the bathroom. Sitting up on the sink as Dean fingers your cunt, gasping his name into his shoulder when he squeezes your thigh, managing to gain enough control after you finish to fall to your knees before him and take his cock in your mouth.

“Shit- Baby- Need to know where-“

You swallow this time. And there’s the priceless look, and maybe one day you’ll die here. With Dean watching you so reverently, his hand brushing over your face like you’re delicate and worth keeping together.

“Son of a bitch, babygirl, that’s-“

“Yeah.” You smile up at him, your voice a soft breath as Dean helps you to your feet. “I love you.”

He kisses you, long and deep, and you know he can taste himself on your tongue, and when he groans your knees almost give out.

Dean catches you.

He’d always catch you, in here or out there. And you love him always and anywhere, but you still miss the him out there-

“I love you too,” he mutters against your lips, and you smile.

This really hurts, but you smile. For Dean.

And everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

In the bar, between Dean’s legs, his hands cupping your face as he grins drunkenly up at you.

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty-“

You smile, running your hands through his hair as you pay his tab. Touching him makes this easier. Letting his hand squeeze your thigh, letting the wound open once more, not bothering to brace yourself for what’s inevitable. “Let’s go home, Dean-“

“Already home,” he mutters. “Got you. Need you. That was- son of a bitch, is the room spinning for you too?“

“No, I’m not drunk.”

“Huh. ‘M not either, baby.”

“Sure, buddy-“

He slams you into the wall, and you’re not his buddy. He loves you.

You end up sprawled over the backseat of the impala, your legs hooked around Dean’s neck and his face buried deep between your thighs.

There’s really no better sight to have imprinted on your brain that this one.

Everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

You linger in bed this loop, because it doesn’t matter. None of this matters. You can touch Dean and hear him say he loves you a million times, but it’s never real and never permanent and it doesn’t fucking matter.

No sheets on your bed, every morning. Stare at the ceiling like an angel might burst down from the sky to save you, but they won’t. Angels don’t even like you, and they certainly can’t be fucked to drag you from whatever odd, strange hell you’ve caught yourself in.

It takes a second to hear it. The silence.

No clatter of Dean’s bacon and eggs on the floor. No son of a bitch echoing down the hall in a herald that you have to go make sure the amazing dumbass ices his hand.

Nothing at all.

Something is wrong.

You’re out of the bed in a second. Sprinting down the hall until the wind is whistling and everything is almost a blur, bracing yourself to slam into the doorway or counter, because you don’t care what bruises mark your body—they’ll be gone by morning anyway—you just need to make sure Dean’s okay-

You run headfirst into something thick and warm, and you recognize it as Dean before you even fully know what’s happening.

His arms around you, holding your steady and firm to his chest, and you’re in the hallway. You shouldn’t be in the hallway. Dean never leaves the kitchen on his own, you have to run through some lines or call him out first-

He grunts your name, and when you meet his gaze, he looks… Different.

For the past hundreds of loops, his hair has been still mussed from sleep, and there’s been a slight pout to his lips from just waking up, but he’s never looked tired. Dean’s eyes have always had a slight spark to them in the morning, because he loves his kitchen, and he loves his bacon, and he loves you.

Dean—at least in here—has always lit up when you see him because he loves you.

And this Dean’s spark is different. Brighter, and longer, and made of less morning, sunshine, and more… relief.

There are bags under this Dean’s eyes, and his hair is more dirtied than messy, and he’s not wearing his hot dog pants. He’s wearing muddied jeans and flannel, his hunting flannel, the green one that he thinks is lucky, and fuck-

That’s relief in his eyes. Exhausted, punishing relief all over his face, and you could swear the priceless look was there too, but it’s buried so deep under the relief that you can’t really tell.

Dean hands have cupped your face as he seems to examine you, and you slowly pry one off. The one he’s burned, every morning, where a long, thin mark should be seared into his palm.

It’s there, but it’s white. Faded and slightly raised.

As if it’s already, mostly, healed.

“Dean,” you whisper, looking back to him with wide eyes. “What’s- What happened?”

He swallows, still not stepping back from you. “It’s- shit. I’ve never done this side of it, shoulda sent Sammy in-“

“Dean-“

“This isn’t real.” He gestures around your bodies, the weight on his face seeming to slump into his shoulders. “I mean, I don’t know why this is what you’re seeing, and I know it’s probably all your dreams or whatever, but it’s not real, sweetheart.”

You think you feel your heart turn to stone. Of course it’s not real. You’ve been so sure it wasn’t real. You’ve known, from the very start, that you might love Dean in every possible world, but he doesn’t love you. That’s just how this goes.

It still fucking hurts.

And you think, maybe with time, your heart will thaw from only a stone weight in your chest.

But it will be time that passes, and doesn’t loop. Time where Dean never loves you again, and you just have to keep going in a world where Dean never loved you at all.

Oh.

There it is.

“Djinn?” You whisper, and Dean nods.

“Yeah. It’s, uh, what do you last remember?”

You let out a long breath, and drop your head to his chest. It’s been a long time since that first loop, but you know he never said it. When you went through this the first time, the first real time, Dean came home drunk, you put him to bed, and he passed out.

That was it.

Everything else is covered in a thick veil of fog that hurts to push aside, so your just shake your head. Still against Dean’s chest.

He hasn’t pushed you away.

He probably just feels bad.

“I- You went out.” You mumble, keeping your eyes squeezed shut. “Called me drunk, and I sent Cas to get you. Then I helped you get into bed, and-“

You cut yourself with a shaking breath, and Dean squeezes his arms around you.

It’s just sympathy.

None of this was real.

“What day is it?” Your question is barely audible against Dean’s chest, but he still manages to make it out.

“Monday.” His voice is low. Careful. Like he might scare you off. “I, uh, that all happened on Friday, sweetheart. Saturday we went out to hunt some new type of djinn Sammy had tracked down, Sunday we- I-“ He clears his throat, his grip tightening slightly. “You got lost. Sunday night. Sons of bitches took you, and I wasn’t fast enough to stop them, and you’ve been in here since. ’S Monday afternoon. Or morning. Brunch time.”

It’s Monday.

You got taken Sunday night, and it’s only Monday. It feels like you’ve been here a million years, but really it’s barely been twelve hours, maybe a little more.

And you did live this once, but time kept moving, and Dean didn’t love you.

You push off Dean’s chest with a shaking breath, and his hands stay on your shoulders. Keeping you steady as you stare at the floor.

“I- uh-“ You shake your head, taking a long, slow breath. “My gun is in my room-“

“No!” Dean grabs your wrist, his words echoing down the bunker halls, and you stare at each other for a long second before he coughs, and his voice drops back down. “I mean, uh, that’s not gonna work. Whole new Djinn thing, right? You don’t kill you, you gotta kill some poor sucker in the dream.”

You swallow, your voice growing small. “What?”

“Sam says that this douchebag’s evolved. I don’t know if you remember, but we’ve been calling them groundhogs, cause they set you in a loop. And, uh,” he glances back around the hallway, a slight frown on his face. “You have to kill the reset point in the loop. It’ll be a person, but not you, cause apparently people try to kill themselves in these loops all the time, and the Djinn needs to keep you down until he’s done feeding.”

All of a sudden, you’re really fucking sick of finding out the truth. The truth isn’t freeing, it’s just turning your already stone heart to fucking lead, because it’s really that simple. That torturously, horribly fucking simple.

You have to kill your reset point. Dean loves you in here, and you hate this, but you’ve never even thought to hurt him, because you love him. All the time.

The Djinn could see that, no matter how deep you’d buried it.

And this is going to fucking suck.

“Dean.” You grab his face between your hands, and you’re not sure this will work, but you can’t kill the real Dean. You don’t think it will kill him in real life, but now that you’re really looking at it, this Dean is a little sharper around the edges, and this Dean will remember. He’ll feel it. You’ve felt the Djinn Dean’s hands on your skin, and slam of your body into the wall, and the cold of the ice when you’ve pressed it to his palm.

This is already complicated.

You can’t make it worse.

“I need you to say you love me.”

Dean blinks at you, his whole face going red. “I- uh- I don’t-“

“I know you don’t.” You cut him off quick—you really don’t want to hear that right now—and your voice grows desperate. “But I-“

“No, I don’t- That’s not what I-“

“Dean. Please just say it, say you love me-“

“I can’t-“

“Please- I know you don’t love me, I promise, but-“

“I love you!” Dean grabs your face between his hands, his voice rough and moving through your whole body as the light goes off. “I love you, but you need to calm the hell down and listen, alright?”

You let out a long breath, and nod. It doesn’t matter. None of this matters.

“Thank you,” you whisper, Dean’s eyes widen as it starts to sweep in, and everything fades to black.

——————

You’ve been here before.

One last time, something clatters down the hall, and you stare at the ceiling as you pull yourself together.

It’ll be okay. You’re going to be okay.

“Son of a bitch!”

You have to make it fast. This won’t work if you look at him, or draw it out, or think about it too hard. Your gun is on your bedside table. Dean’s down the hall.

You need to be free.

You can do this.

When you make it to the kitchen, Dean’s kneeling on the floor.

He grins when he sees you.

Your heart isn’t stone. It’s a million, tiny, fractured pieces.

“Hey,” Dean says your name with a bright, wide smile, and you have to do this. “I’ve been, uh, can we talk? I gotta tell you something.”

He’s going to say it now. The Djinn must know what you’re about to do, and it’s trying to stop you, but you can’t move because Dean looks so happy, and he loves you in here, and he-

“I, uh, I know it’s kinda out of nowhere, but I-“

The shot echoes through the bunker, and you keep your eyes closed and cover your ears as you wait. You can’t look, can’t breathe, can’t hear Dean slowly die from the bullet wound you put in his body, and fuck, there’s no light turning off so what if this didn’t work, what if you just killed the love of your life and now you’re trapped in here forever, because nothing’s fading to black and you can feel him grabbing at your ankles, and fuck-

——————

Dean’s shouting your name. His voice is rough with strain and not sleep, and you’ve never been here before.

Blinking your eyes open to a gray, concrete basement or warehouse or somewhere new, Dean hold you around your stomach as you slump down over him, and you’re free.

Dean doesn’t love you anymore—in a lot of ways, he never did—but you’re free.

“Son of bitch, sweetheart, I’ve got you, you’re okay, just hold on for me- Sam!” Dean shouts over his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his neck, and you’re so tired. Your limbs feel like putty, and your head is fogged, and you remember everything, so your heart is still stone.

Sleep sounds nice.

Sleep sounds really fucking nice, because if you think about it, you haven’t actually slept since you entered the loop.

Yeah.

Sleep.

Your eyes have barely started to droop when Dean grabs your face, shaking your body carefully against his.

“No, fucking- Shit, you gotta stay awake-“ He snaps your name, and it sounds like an order, but you can’t even really move. “Need you to keep your eyes open, just- Sam! Get in here, I’ve got her-“

“I’m fighting the Djinn, Dean!” You can hear Sam’s voice somewhere in the distance, but it’s fuzzy. Everything is fuzzy. “Just get her to the car-“

Dean nods to himself, hooking your knees under his arm and hauling you up with a grunt.

The sound you make is almost a whine, but you’re so tired. “Dean-“

“I know,” he mutters your name, and you might be getting delirious, because you could swear he’s pressing a kiss to your brow. “Hold on, baby, I’ve got you. Just, stay awake for me, please-“

He sounds like he’s begging, and it’s stinging around your whole body. The stone around your heart is dissolving too fast, but it’s leaving you raw and painful, and you’d really like to make this easier for Dean, to stay awake because he asked you to, but you’re so tired.

He called you baby. Outside of the loop, Dean called your baby.

That feels like a good way to go.

And this time, when everything drifts away, it’s not because a light went off.

It’s just flickering. Waning and holding on, letting you rest but clinging to Dean’s voice, saying words you don’t recognize, but still understand.

You’ll be alright.

Everything fades to black, and you’re free.

——————

“Is she gonna be alright?”

Something leaves your brow. “Physically, she will be fine.”

“Physically?” That’s a third voice. The first was Dean—you’d know his voice anywhere, including half-conscious—the second voice was deep and careful, and this one is wired and nervous. “What’d you mean physically, Cas?”

The second voice—Cas, which feels obvious now—sighs. “Djinn can be, as I’m sure you are aware, quite mentally draining. She made need space or support from us, depending on what she endured. Dean, I do not know what you saw of her dream-”

“She was in the bunker.” Dean grunts, and you can picture him glowering at the road. “She’ll be okay.”

“I would not make assumptions. If the groundhog put her through more than, say, ten loops-“

“She’d probably lose her mind.” Sam finishes, letting out a slow breath. “Dean, she might need us, and you can’t have just seen the bunker-“

“Sam. Drop it.”

“I’m just saying, I’ve done the time loop thing and it’s hard-“

“And I’m saying fuckin’ drop it. She’ll be okay. She- Shit, Sam, she has to be okay, so just goddamn drop it.”

There’s a long silence, the only sound the rumble of the engine, and Sam clears his throat.

“You never had that talk with her, did you.”

“Sam-“

“I’m not saying you should do it, I’m just saying if she needs us-“

“She will.” Cas jumps in, still somewhere near you in what can only be the back of the Impala. “And if this talk contains what I am guessing, I think there can only be benefit to it-“

“Really, Cas? You’re getting in on Sam’s feeling bullshit too-“

“It is not bullshit. And I- She will be receptive-“

“I don’t care.” Dean snaps, and you think you can hear the thud of his fist on the wheel. “And I swear to fucking Christ, if you two don’t drop it now, I’m pulling over and leaving you on the side of the goddamn road. Got it?”

There are mumbled agreements, the hand—Cas’ hand—presses to your brow as he lets out a long sigh, and sleep overtakes you once more.

——————

You’ve been-

No.

This is your mattress, and there are no sheets on your bed, and no-

You shoot up with open, frantic eyes and a strangled gasp, and someone shouts your name.

Dean.

Dean shouts your name.

“Shit, it’s alright, you’re safe, you’re home-“

You shake your head, even as you see him at the foot of your bed. You don’t trust it. You don’t trust that it’s real.

“No- Dean, I- My sheets, where are my sheets-“

“In the wash.” He answers in half a second, his voice firm and low, and his hand moves to your thigh.

The other thigh. His touch is carving over a new wound for the sunlight to pour into, but you’ve been here before-

“I told you on Saturday,” he mutters your name, holding your gaze. “You got drunk on Cas’ absinthe, Thursday night. Threw up on Sammy, and I put you to bed. Got you changed, too, but I didn’t look at, uh- The goods. At all. Swear.“

His eyes dart down to your breasts, and you realize that you’ve been changed out of your hunting clothes, and into one of Dean’s shirts.

“Dean-“

“Had Cas change you this time.” He adds, his voice quick. “He thought you should go in my room, but I- That woulda been a weird place to do this, and I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything-“

“Dean-“

“Just, shit- Please just let me talk, sweetheart, I gotta-“ He runs a hand over his face, shaking his head. “Look, you know I’m not good at this, but I’m tryin’, and Sam’s been on my ass about it for months, and seeing you with that fucking douchebag while he fed off you, I’ve never been more scared in my damn life-“

“Dean, please-“

“And I, fuck, I just need to say it now, before I lose the nerve-“

“Don’t!” You almost scream the words, and Dean blinks at you. “I know what you’re going to say, Dean. Please don’t.”

“But, uh-“ He frowns. “You made me say it, in there-“

You sigh, your eyes dropping to your hands. “I know. I still- Just don’t say it. Please.”

There’s a second of heavy silence, and when Dean clears his throat, his voice is low. “What, uh- What was your reset point? When the groundhog had you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumble, and Dean’s hands cover yours. Holding them firm, as if he’s afraid you’ll drift away.

“Is it-“ He swallows, squeezing your hands softly. “You know. What I’m thinkin’?”

You nod, the motion weak. “Probably.”

“Oh.” Another pause. You can hear your heart in your ears. “You had to uh- Kill me, then. Right.”

This time you don’t even bother to speak. You don’t think your voice would work anyway.

“And Cas said you were in there a while- Shit.” You can hear the moment he gets it. His voice drops, and he lets out a long, slow breath. “Can you look at me, sweetheart? Please?”

You force your eyes to drag up, back to his, and there’s the fucking priceless look.

It’s heavier, but it’s there.

And this has to just be another trick. Another way for the Djinn to keep you in its hold, because the first way failed. Dean doesn’t love you, in reality. He doesn’t think you’re priceless, so this is a trick-

“I’m gonna say it.” He grunts, and your gaze is almost trapped on him.

The priceless look—now, when you really examine it—looks heavier. More gray, like you’re priceless, but Dean’s worried he’s going to shatter you. It’s lined with rust and fear and desperation, but it’s still there. And it’s still Dean.

“I’ve gotta say it, baby.” He leans forward, and he still smells like evergreen, but now it’s also gunpowder and something earthier. Something really, purely Dean. “And I’m gonna stay here, with you, ‘till you believe it, alright?”

You shake your head, and he sighs.

“I- I need you believe it. You don’t have to say it back, but I need to say it now, before I pussy out, and you gotta know I mean it-“

“Dean-“

“I love you.” He murmurs your name, tracing a hand over your cheekbone, and you can feel all of it. Lightning and sunshine and fireworks over your skin, and no light is going off.

The cameras aren’t still rolling, but that’s because there are none. No script. No darkness. Nothing fading away.

And Dean’s not moving for more. It’s all still light, and nothings fading away.

“I mean it.” He mutters. “I love you. Have for a damn long time, but it’s never, I dunno, never known how to say it, but I love you. I really fucking love you.”

He’s never said it this much.

And it’s all still going.

“I love you too.” You whisper, the words alone a careful, desperate gamble. “So much, Dean.”

Something in his eyes sparks, and his voice becomes hoarse. “Really.”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” There’s a pause, then his face splits into a wide, happy, boyish grin. “That’s awesome.”

And you don’t have an idea of what to do. You’ve never been here, not really, and it could go wrong in a million ways with no do-overs. But Dean’s alive, and he says he loves you, and you really fucking believe him. He’s touching you in new ways, and looking at you like he’s as uncertain as you are, but wherever this goes, he’ll follow it. With you.

There’s no way to know where it will go.

You’d really like to find out. What it’s like loving Dean and saying aloud, without fear that anything will go away.

And it won’t.

Because could be permanent, as long as you make it so.

Dean loves you.

“Yeah.” You grin at him, and you hope he sees it on your face. That, at the end of it, Dean is more priceless than anything else in the world. “It is.”

End Note: It doesn't happen on the screen, but Cas did get more Oreos. Just so y'all know.

Thank you so much for reading!! I hoped you enjoyed the miniseries, and if you want more Dean/reader stuff I do have another, bigger series called Babylon the Great that's currently in progress, and updates every Thursday! Big thanks to the anon who requested this, I had a lot of fun with it!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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hereforuconnwbb · 25 days ago

Text

Foul Play - Chapter 3

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 5.1k

warning: language

hey guyssss heres chap 3 !! i literally had multiple mind blanks while writing this so im not sure if it even makes sense or if its even good 😭 but yea other than that theres nth rlly much to say but if u didnt see my post earlier, i will be busy this weekend so i wont be able to write as much... anyways i hope u guys enjoy this chapter !! 🫶🏽 feel free to send thru ideas that i can take into consideration for future chapters ! 🥊

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

Paige stepped out of her dorm early in the morning. A slight chill lingered in the air, clinging to her skin as she tugged a hoodie over her head and adjusted the drawstrings. The campus was mostly asleep, still wrapped in silence.

Instead of heading to the gym, she veered off down a quieter path toward one of the outdoor rec courts tucked near the back edge of campus. It wasn’t fancy but it was empty, and that’s what Paige needed. Just space. Air. No eyes on her. No bullshit.

She dropped the basketball onto the concrete and bounced it a few times, testing the way it echoed through the morning quiet. Then, without warming up, she stepped back behind the arc and fired.

Swish.

“Fuck Marcus,” she muttered, catching the rebound on a lazy bounce and stepping back to the top of the key. “Always pulling strings like he’s slick. Like I can’t see through that stupid ass head.”

Another shot hit the back iron and rolled out.

Paige cursed under her breath, chasing it down and spinning it back to her fingertips. She squared her shoulders, bounced once, and fired again.

Swish.

“Fake as hell. Always has been.”

She moved around the arc, settling into a rhythm, her body loosening with each motion, but her mind still clamped tight around the anger she hadn’t shaken since yesterday. Another shot.

Swish.

“And Azzi…” She scoffed under her breath, grabbing the ball again. “Little miss perfect attitude. Giving dirties like I’m the bad guy when she’s dating the fucking snake.”

She launched again. Clang.

“Fuck.” Paige exhaled through her nose, jaw tight. She hated how they were both living in her head like this. She wasn’t supposed to care, well, she didn’t care. At least that’s what she kept trying to convince herself. But the whole situation kept scratching at her insides like an itch she couldn’t reach.

She walked to half-court and stood still for a second, hands resting on her hips, breathing heavy.

“Can’t believe I ever had dumbass’ back,” she muttered, squinting at the hoop. “And now he’s out here tryna mess up everything. Again.”

She dribbled twice, dropped low into her stance, then took off toward the basket in a quick drive. Hard stop, spin, fadeaway.

Swish.

She let the follow-through hang for a second longer than needed, then dropped her arms and shook her head.

“Yea. Keep watching. Let’s see who gets fucked over this time.”

She kept at it, over and over again—every shot a word, every miss a curse, every swish a release. Her hoodie was damp by the time she finally stopped, hands on her knees, chest rising and falling.

Paige finally sat on the court, legs outstretched, ball cradled beside her. Her heart was still racing, but the edge had dulled slightly. For now, it was just her, the sky, and the echo of her own voice talking shit to ghosts that weren’t there but still somehow haunted her all the same.

As the minutes dragged on, the sweat started cooling against her back and the adrenaline slowly drained. She leaned her head back staring up at the sky, trying to slow her thoughts.

But then movement caught her eye.

Across the quad from the court, a door opened.

She blinked, watching absently at first until she saw them.

Jayla stepped out, hoodie tugged low and hair messy like she hadn’t fully fixed herself yet. And right behind her was Marcus, stretching lazily as he lingered in the doorway. Paige sat upright, heart rate spiking again.

They were laughing about something, low and quiet. Jayla swatted at his arm like he said something dumb, and Marcus leaned in murmuring something into her ear.

Without thinking, Paige grabbed her phone. She zoomed in slightly and took a photo of Jayla standing too close while Marcus whispering, half-turned, his hand casually brushing her hip as he stepped away.

She stared at the screen for a second, thumb hovering before locking it. Just a receipt. Not for now. But for if shit blew up. If Azzi started acting brand new again. If Jayla came back with some other fake excuse.

“I fucken knew it,” she muttered.

The same Jayla who canceled on her last night, mid-argument with Marcus. The same Jayla who texted her she “wasn’t interested anymore.”

And there she was, right in front of Paige’s face, hair messy, mouth smiling, standing just close enough to Marcus to kill every excuse Paige tried to build in her head.

Paige just watched with her jaw tight.

Marcus reached out and tugged the edge of Jayla’s sleeve playfully before turning to head off in the opposite direction. Jayla stayed leaning on the door frame, watching him go with a small smirk like they shared some private joke.

“Unreal,” Paige muttered under her breath, standing up with a rough push off the concrete. She picked up her ball and tucked it under her arm, chest still burning with fresh betrayal, old anger, and a fucked up sense of deja vu.

She pulled her phone out again, typed out a quick text to Aubrey.

Paige: omw to urs

Paige: need to be around someone not fake before i throw hands

She shoved the phone in her pocket, turned toward the path, and started walking faster than necessary. Every step was heavy, but all she could think about was getting to Aubrey’s dorm before she said something or did something she couldn’t take back.

Her knuckles were white around the basketball as she reached Aubrey’s dorm building, shoving through the front doors with more force than necessary. She took the stairs 2 at a time, her hoodie sticking to her back with cold sweat and her jaw locked tight. By the time she knocked on Aubrey’s door, her pulse hadn’t slowed.

Aubrey swung the door open, still in her sleep shirt, one sock halfway on and hair shoved into a lazy bun. “Geez,” she blinked. “You look like you are about to kill someone.”

“I am,” Paige snapped, pushing past her and dropping the ball onto the floor with a thud. “I’m so fucking sick of this shit.”

Aubrey closed the door behind her. “Ok. Sit. Talk.”

Paige didn’t sit. She paced. “It’s not Jayla. I mean—I’m not mad at her, not really. She don’t owe me anything, whatever. But Marcus, that piece of shit is always ruining shit for me. Every time I start to get peace, he just shows up. In my past. In my face. In someone else’s bed.”

Aubrey leaned back against her drawer, arms crossed, letting her get it out.

Paige stopped pacing long enough to yank her phone from her pocket. “Tell me this don’t look sus as hell.”

She turned the screen toward Aubrey, showing her the photo of Marcus whispering into Jayla’s ear, his hand just grazing her hip as she stood in the doorway, clearly fresh out of bed.

Aubrey raised her brows. “Well, damn.”

“I’m not tryna assume,” Paige muttered quickly, dragging the phone back to herself. “Like—I don’t know what happened last night. But knowing Marcus ?” Her voice cracked a little with rage, “They probably fucked. He don’t hang around girls for fun.”

“Paige…”

“Don’t say it,” Paige cut her off. “Don’t say I should talk to Jayla yet. I will. Later. I just needed to not be alone right now or I was gonna lose my shit.”

Aubrey held her hands up. “Ok. I won’t say that.”

Paige dropped onto Aubrey’s bed finally, head in her hands. “And don’t tell anyone about that picture.”

“I won’t,” Aubrey said quickly. “You know I won’t.”

There was a long pause before Aubrey added, “You should show Azzi.”

Paige looked up, eyes sharp. “Fuck no.”

“Paige—”

“She’s not my problem,” Paige snapped. “Let her find out her own way. I’m not saving her from shit.”

Aubrey didn’t push, just nodded once.

Paige leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m gonna find Jayla before practice. Talk to her face to face.”

“You sure that’s a good idea ?”

“I’m not sure of anything,” Paige said. “But I need to look her in the eye. Hear whatever bullshit excuse she’s got. If she’s real about it, cool. If not ? Then I know where we stand.”

Aubrey tossed her a water bottle. “Well… at least drink something before you go confronting people later.”

Paige caught it with a tired smirk. “Thanks, mum.”

—---------------------------------------------------

Across the campus, Azzi stood in front of her mirror, dragging a brush through her curls with slow strokes. Her jaw still ached from how hard she’d been clenching it the night before, and sleep hadn’t done much to soften the knot of irritation sitting in her chest. She felt anything but calm.

She was halfway through pulling her hoodie over her head when a knock landed at the door.

She frowned, moving to open it, expecting maybe Caroline or Kaitlyn—but instead, it was Marcus.

Azzi blinked. “Seriously ?”

He gave her a crooked smile that used to work on her. “I just… wanted to say sorry. For yesterday.”

Azzi crossed her arms. “You mean for bailing last minute with no real explanation after we planned that day all week ?”

Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. “Yea. I know. I fucked up, babe. I had some shit come up—stuff I couldn’t blow off. But I should’ve called. I should’ve said something better than just ‘I’m busy.’ That was weak. I get it.”

She didn’t respond right away. She just watched him. He was in sweats, jacket half-zipped, eyes tired like he hadn’t slept great either. For a split second, she considered slamming the door in his face but then his voice softened.

“I hate letting you down,” he added, voice low, “I just…I don’t know. My head’s been all over the place lately. But I’m here now. Can I make it up to you ?”

Azzi stared at him, her stomach twisting in a way she couldn’t name. She wanted to stay mad. She should’ve stayed mad. But instead, she sighed, stepping aside and letting him in.

Marcus slid past her quietly, and she shut the door behind him, leaning back against it.

“You can’t keep pulling this shit,” she muttered. “This ‘something came up’ act. It’s starting to feel like I’m not a priority.”

“You are,” he said quickly, moving closer. “You are, Az. I just suck at showing it sometimes. But I care about you. I swear.”

She searched his face, trying to read something deeper beneath the apology, some crack in the surface but there was nothing. Just those soft eyes and that familiar voice, saying all the right things in all the right ways.

Azzi exhaled slowly, tension easing in her chest. “Fine. But you’re buying me breakfast.”

Marcus grinned. “Bet.”

They sat down on her bed, Marcus pulling Azzi’s legs into his lap as they leaned back against the headboard, scrolling through food delivery options on his phone. Azzi let her head fall onto his shoulder, eyes half-lidded, the warmth of his body sinking into her skin.

A few quiet minutes passed as they sat together, the hum of Marcus’s voice filling the room while he scrolled on his phone.

“You want pancakes or something heavier ?” he asked, glancing at her briefly.

Azzi gave a small shrug. “Pancakes are fine.”

He clicked through a few menus, completely content, like everything was back to normal. Like she hadn’t been up half the night feeling like shit. Azzi watched him for a second. The smile on his face, the way he absentmindedly rubbed her shin with his thumb. It all looked good. It all felt good. But something about it didn’t sit right.

“You got anything going on tomorrow ?” he asked casually, still tapping at his screen.

Azzi blinked. “Tomorrow ?”

“Yea, like afternoon. Thought maybe I’d grab us a late lunch. There’s that new burger spot off campus. I could pick you up around three ?”

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. “I’ve got a game tomorrow.”

Marcus glanced up. “Wait, really ?”

“Yea,” she said flatly. “Trial game. Against georgetown.”

His brow furrowed, just slightly. “Since when ?”

Azzi scoffed. “Since last week, Marcus. I’ve mentioned it like three times.”

He blinked, then looked away, rubbing at his jaw. “Damn. My bad. I must’ve zoned out or something.”

Azzi pulled her legs out of his lap, sitting up a little straighter. “You didn’t zone out. You just don’t listen when I talk about soccer unless I’m scoring.”

Marcus raised both hands like he was surrendering. “Alright, chill, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You never do,” she muttered.

There was a pause before Marcus tried to shift the mood back, flashing her a lazy grin. “Okok. My bad. But I’ll come to the game. I’ll be there.”

Azzi’s stomach twisted. She didn’t know if it was guilt, or doubt, or just tiredness, but the last thing she wanted was him showing up out of nowhere after being mia.

“You don’t have to,” she said, already grabbing her phone.

“Nah, I want to,” he insisted, leaning in again. “Text me the time. I’ll show up, front row, loud as.”

Azzi forced a smile. “Sure.”

But in her head, she was already wondering what excuse he’d have this time.

—---------------------------------------------------

It was now late afternoon when Paige wandered to the back corridors of the rec center with her hoodie slung over a shoulder and her bag hanging low off the other. She wasn’t even sure why she was still trying to find Jayla. Maybe part of her needed closure. Maybe part of her wanted to catch her slipping. Or maybe she just wanted the truth.

Her eyes scanned the clusters of athletes filtering in for their sessions, but there was no sign of Jayla. Not in the hallway. Not near the locker rooms. Not courtside. Paige felt her jaw tighten until she finally saw her by the vending machines near the back exit, Jayla stood alone, fiddling with her phone, airpods in. She looked tense with her shoulders high, posture closed off, like she already knew someone was coming.

Paige approached slowly.

Jayla glanced up and flinched, her eyes flicking around like she was half-preparing to bolt. “Paige.”

“You free to talk ?” Paige asked evenly, voice low.

Jayla hesitated before nodding, pulling her airpods out. “Yea. Sure.”

They moved into a quiet corner between two practice rooms, out of view.

Paige crossed her arms. “So… you really gonna ghost me with a dry-ass text ?”

Jayla looked down. “I didn’t mean to ghost. I just—”

“You just weren’t interested anymore,” Paige finished for her, voice clipped.

Jayla flinched again but nodded. “That’s what I said, yea.”

Paige studied her face. The avoidance in her eyes. The way her fingers twisted the hem of her sleeve. “You didn’t even give me a proper reason.”

Jayla swallowed, voice tight. “I didn’t have one.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I know.” She looked up at Paige finally. Eyes soft. Guilty. “I know. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just… I messed up.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “So you’re not gonna tell me what really happened ?”

Jayla opened her mouth then froze. Something behind her eyes shifted. Like she was about to say something important, and then swallowed it down. Her hand gripped the strap of her bag tight, her nails digging in.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

Paige’s jaw twitched. “Can’t or won’t ?”

Jayla didn’t answer right away. Her breath came shallow. Then, softly “I’m sorry. That’s all I can say.”

Paige leaned in, gaze sharp but not cruel. “So something did happen.”

Jayla’s eyes flickered just for a second. Fear. Guilt. Regret. She didn’t nod. Didn’t speak. But that silence said everything.

“I just wish you’d been straight with me,” Paige said, backing off half a step. “You could’ve told me you weren’t safe to be real. I wouldn’t have pushed.”

Jayla looked like she might cry for a second. “It’s not like that.”

“It never is, until it is.”

Jayla sniffed and wiped at her cheek quickly, then cleared her throat. “You didn’t deserve it. I should’ve been honest. You didn’t deserve to be left hanging like that.”

Paige gave a small nod. “You good tho ?”

Jayla blinked at her, surprised. “Yea. I’m fine.”

“You sure ?”

Jayla hesitated. “…Yea.”

Paige didn’t believe her. Not fully. But she didn’t press. She just looked at her 1 last time, then turned to leave.

“Thanks for telling me what you could,” she said over her shoulder.

Jayla didn’t reply. But as Paige walked away, she felt a weight settle in her chest. Not just betrayal. Not just anger. But something colder.

A new understanding of just how deep Marcus’s toxicity ran.

She was still replaying Jayla’s silence in her head when she rounded the corner and almost walked straight into Azzi.

Azzi stepped in her path.

“What the fuck did you say to her ?”

Paige blinked like she wasn’t expecting it, then laughed under her breath. “Relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax,” Azzi snapped, stepping closer. “She looked scared.”

“Because the truth is scary,” Paige said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Azzi’s jaw clenched. “You’re a fucking bitch, you know that ?”

Paige stopped walking, chest rising. She turned slowly, meeting Azzi’s glare with one of her own. “If I was a bitch, I would’ve fucked everything up for you already.”

Azzi’s expression faltered just enough to catch it.

Paige took a single step forward, voice low and hard. “Your boyfriend cancelled on you last night, right ? Maybe you’d wanna ask him why.”

Azzi’s mouth opened then shut it. Her chest tightened, the sting immediate. But she straightened her spine and fired back, “He already told me. He got caught up in some shit. Stuff he couldn’t blow off.”

Paige let out a sharp, humourless breath. “Shiiii you’re dumber than I thought.”

Azzi’s eyes blazed. “Fuck you.”

“No thanks,” Paige shot back, stepping in again almost nose-to-nose. “You let him say whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants. You’re not just dumb, Azzi. You’re easy.”

Azzi’s hand twitched at her side.

Before it could escalate further, hurried footsteps pounded the floor.

“Azzi—hey !”

Caroline’s voice cracked through as she jogged up, Kaitlyn right behind her.

Caroline slipped between them fast, arm out like a barrier. “Hey. Chill the fuck out.”

Kaitlyn grabbed Azzi gently by the elbow, tugging her back. “Let’s go. Practice starts soon.”

Azzi didn’t move for a second. She just stared at Paige like she wanted to hit her.

Paige didn’t flinch.

Caroline shot Paige a warning look, then turned to Azzi. “Cmon Az. Don’t let her get in your head.”

Azzi let herself be pulled back slowly, her heart racing. Paige stayed rooted where she was, watching her like she was waiting for her to wake up.

“Ask him,” Paige called, voice calm. “If you actually care.”

And then she turned, disappearing down the hall like she hadn’t just cracked something wide open.

Azzi stormed down the hallway with Caroline and Kaitlyn on each side of her, her fists clenched and breath coming faster than she wanted to admit. Her face was stone, but her heartbeat was thudding in her ears.

“Jesus,” Kaitlyn muttered once they were out of earshot. “What the hell was that ?”

Caroline narrowed her eyes, glancing over her shoulder like Paige might come charging back. “Yea, what even started that ?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She kept walking, refusing to look shaken.

“Az ?” Caroline pressed again.

Azzi let out a dry laugh. “She’s just mad Jayla doesn’t want her.”

Kaitlyn blinked. “Wait—Jayla ? Like… volleyball Jayla ?”

“Yup,” Azzi said, popping the p. “Caught them in some shady-looking corner talk and Paige got all defensive when I asked about it.”

Caroline exchanged a glance with Kaitlyn. “It looked like you were about to rip her throat out.”

“She was being a bitch,” Azzi snapped, rolling her eyes. “Talking like she knows my life. Like she knows Marcus.”

Kaitlyn raised her brows. “Was she saying stuff about him ?”

“She tried to act all mysterious. Said I should ‘ask him why he cancelled on me last night,’” Azzi said with air quotes and a mocking tone. “Like I didn’t already talk to him. Like I’m stupid.”

Caroline hesitated. “You did talk to him though, right ?”

“Obviously,” Azzi snapped, sharper than she meant. “He came by this morning. Said he had shit come up. I believe him. Not everything has to be drama.”

Kaitlyn pressed her lips together. “You’ve got a trial game tomorrow. Don’t let that stuff mess with your head.”

Azzi nodded once. “It’s not. I’m locked in.”

Caroline threw an arm around her shoulders as they headed toward the locker room. “Then don’t let Paige get under your skin. She wants a reaction.”

“She’s not getting one,” Azzi said casually, staring straight ahead.

She believed Marcus this morning. She still did. But something in Paige’s voice had stuck in her—sharp and irritating.

Still, she shoved it down. Game was tomorrow. Focus came first.

Whatever Paige thought she knew, it didn’t matter. Azzi wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

—---------------------------------------------------

The gym echoed with balls bouncing and shoes squeaking on hardwod. Practice hadn’t officially started yet, but a few girls were already warming up on the court, laughing, attempting trick shots, stretching.

KK stood near the rack of basketballs with Ice and Sarah, whispering something while half-grinning. Sarah held a roll of athletic tape behind her back, eyes darting between KK and the locker room door like she was timing something.

“Ok,” KK whispered. “Paige comes in, we tape her ankles together, and pretend it’s a bonding drill—”

“Absolutely not,” Aubrey cut in, stepping in from the door.

KK blinked. “What ? Why ?”

Aubrey just tilted her chin toward the locker room door. “Look.”

A beat later, Paige stormed onto the court throwing her bag down harder than necessary, sleeves shoved up past her elbows, expression tight. Her brows were furrowed and her mouth set in a hard, pissed-off line.

Sarah took 1 look at her and muttered, “Abort mission.”

Paige grabbed a ball from the rack and immediately started doing aggressive dribble combos—hard slams into the floor like she was trying to drive it through the floor.

Aubrey walked over slowly, keeping her voice low. “Yo. What happened ?”

Paige didn’t stop dribbling. “Don’t ask me about her.”

Aubrey blinked. “Jayla ?”

“No,” Paige said, ball snapping up into her hands. “Azzi.”

Aubrey’s head tilted slightly. “Why ?”

Paige exhaled hard, like she’d been holding it in all day. “I showed up to Jayla, talked to her face to face. She was clearly scared, dodging around everything but it’s obvious. Something happened. I didn’t need to push harder. I got my answer.”

“So, what does Azzi got to do wit it ?”

Paige ran her hand through her hair, the hoodie slipping further down her shoulder. “She saw us. Me and Jayla. And immediately came at me like I was the bad guy.”

“She confronted you ?”

“Yep. She called me a bitch. I snapped. I said some shit I maybe shouldn’t have but I was done being nice about it.”

Aubrey crossed her arms, keeping her voice low and even. “Did you show her the picture ?”

Paige scoffed. “No. I told her to ask him.”

Aubrey stared. “Paige…”

“I’m not doing her thinking for her, Aubs,” Paige muttered, tossing the ball hard off the wall. “She’s already made up her mind who the one in the wrong is. If she wants to keep believing Marcus gives a shit about her, she can choke on that bullshit.”

Aubrey stayed quiet for a second, watching Paige breathe heavy through her nose.

“Still,” she said gently, “the pic could’ve helped her listen.”

Paige turned to her, voice cold. “I gave her the match. If she wants to burn the house down, that’s on her.”

And with that, Paige turned and jogged to join the rest of the team for warmups, fury still simmering just beneath the surface.

Aubrey watched her go.

KK wandered over, whispering to Aubrey again. “Ok so… still no prank ?”

Aubrey didn’t even look at her. “Bruh. Read the room.”

KK backed off, hands up. “Noted.”

—---------------------------------------------------

They wrapped up practice about an hour and a half later, sweat-slick and breathless under the fading light. The sun was sinking low over the field, casting long shadows across the grass as the early evening air cooled. Azzi wiped her face with the hem of her jersey and kicked off her cleats, tossing them into her bag, her mind already half on tomorrow.

Caroline stretched her arms over her head with a groan. “My legs are done. If georgetown doesn’t show up with ice baths and respect, I’m gonna riot.”

Kaitlyn chuckled, flicking her water bottle cap at her. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m realistic,” Caroline fired back. “They’re aggressive as hell. We’ve gotta be locked in.”

Azzi nodded silently, eyes still on the field behind them, unfocused.

Caroline nudged her. “You good ?”

“Yea,” Azzi said, forcing a small grin. “Just tired. Thinking about tomorrow.”

“Trial game nerves?” Kaitlyn asked, bumping her shoulder playfully. “You’ll kill it. We all will.”

Azzi gave a quick nod. “Yea. I’m ready.”

They walked a little further, the gravel crunching under their sneakers.

“Marcus is coming,” Azzi added casually, like she wasn’t already bracing herself for a reaction.

Kaitlyn glanced at Caroline, then back at Azzi. “Oh.”

Caroline kept her expression neutral. “Nice. He’s… showing up ?”

Azzi caught the loaded pause but ignored it. “Yea. He said he’ll be front row. Loud and all.”

Kaitlyn chewed the inside of her cheek for a beat. “Cool. Hopefully he brings snacks or something.”

Azzi let out a short laugh but didn’t look at either of them. “He’s trying. That’s what matters, right ?”

Caroline finally spoke. “Yea. Just… you know. Focus on you tomorrow. No distractions.”

Azzi nodded again, more stiffly this time. “I am. I will.”

But she could still feel Paige’s words in her head.

“Ask him, if you actually care.”

Azzi tried to shake it, tightening her hair like it would somehow tighten her focus too. She wasn’t going to spiral. Not now.

“You guys wanna get a bite ?” Caroline offered as they reached the parking lot. “Fuel up for domination ?”

Kaitlyn slung her bag over 1 shoulder. “Only if we get those chicken wraps again.”

Azzi hesitated, then gave a small smile. “You guys go. I think I’m just gonna head back. Shower, get my hair done then chill.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Alright. We’ll see you tomorrow ?”

“Bright and early,” Azzi promised.

They exchanged brief goodbyes before splitting off. Azzi walked the rest of the way back alone. Her fingers hovered over Marcus’ name in her messages for a second.

Then she locked her phone and shoved it into her pocket.

She’d see him tomorrow anyways.

—---------------------------------------------------

Paige was out the door as soon as practice finished without a post-practice stretch, no fist bumps, no banter. Just a muttered “I’m out” to Geno and the sharp slam of the exit as she stormed through it.

She didn’t stop walking until she hit her dorm.

The second the door clicked behind her, she dropped her bag, peeled off her hoodie, and kicked off her shoes hard enough to knock 1 under the desk. She sat on the edge of her bed, breathing heavy, palms planted on her thighs bracing herself.

No music. No tv. Just silence and the hum of early evening campus life outside the window.

A soft knock broke through the quiet.

Paige didn’t move.

Another knock, this one followed by, “Paige. It’s me.”

She sighed through her nose. “It’s open.”

Aubrey eased the door open and stepped in, closing it behind her without a word. She leaned against the dresser and crossed her arms, scanning Paige for a second before speaking.

“You didn’t say bye.”

“I didn’t feel like talking,” Paige muttered.

“Clearly.”

Aubrey stayed quiet for a beat before pushing off the dresser and sitting on the desk chair across from her. “I know I asked… But why didn’t you just show her the picture?”

Paige’s jaw ticked. “Well if she wasn’t such a bitch, I would’ve.”

Aubrey blinked. “Seriously ?”

“Yea. If she hadn’t come at me like she did then maybe I would’ve helped her out. Maybe I would’ve let her in.” Paige’s voice was bitter. “But nah. She can suffer. Let her be with that dickhead. That’s what she picked.”

Aubrey exhaled. “Paige—”

“I’m serious,” Paige cut in. “She chose him. She defends him like he’s got some halo floating above that big ass ego. Fuck that.”

Aubrey leaned forward a little. “Ok, but if you’d shown her the picture—if you’d let her see what he’s actually doing, maybe it would’ve ruined him. You would’ve gotten your payback.”

Paige let out a humorless laugh. “That’s not how I want my payback.”

Aubrey paused. “Then how ?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She just looked away, lips pressed tight.

Aubrey narrowed her eyes. “Paige…”

Still nothing.

“…Who are you even trying to hurt ?”

Paige looked back at her finally, eyes cold. “Him.”

Aubrey didn’t flinch. “You sure ? Cause if you want to do what I think you’re thinking about doing, you’re not just hurting him.”

Paige shrugged. “Collateral damage.”

Aubrey stared at her. “So Azzi’s just that now ? Collateral ?”

“She’s made it clear she hates me,” Paige said flatly. “So why the fuck should I care ?”

“Maybe because she doesn’t know anything,” Aubrey snapped. “Maybe because all she sees is you blowing through people like a hurricane and thinks that’s all you are.”

“She could’ve asked. She could’ve stopped assuming the worst.”

Aubrey’s voice dropped. “Do you think she even knows what happened back then ? Between you and Marcus ?”

Paige’s mouth twitched. “Knowing him ? He probably fed her some bullshit story. Played victim. Probs told her I was crazy or some shit.”

“Then tell her the truth.”

“No,” Paige said, tone like steel. “I’m not handing her the truth like a gift. Not when she’s acting like this. She doesn’t want the truth. She wants someone to blame.”

“She already has someone to blame,” Aubrey said quietly. “You.”

Paige swallowed. Something flickered in her eyes but it vanished just as fast.

“Good,” she said. “Let her.”

Aubrey leaned back, lips pursed. “You’re seriously gonna go through with it ?”

Paige didn’t say a word.

Aubrey exhaled, standing up slowly. “I hope, when this is all over… it feels worth it.”

Then she walked to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. “Because hurting someone who doesn’t even know they’re in the middle of a war ? That’s not revenge Paige. That’s cruelty. And it’s just gonna make everything more complicated.”

And with that, she slipped out, leaving Paige sitting alone in the silence again with her heart thudding, mind racing, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

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

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