It happened mid-mission.

The chaos had hit peak insanity. Laser grids slicing through air, smoke pouring from collapsed vents, and alarms blaring loud enough to rattle your skull. You and Violet had just barely escaped an ambush, diving behind cover in the corner of the enemy compound’s upper floor.

You were catching your breath, crouched low, hand still crackling with residual energy.

And then—bam—Violet tackled you.

Full-body.

Straight into a hug.

Your back slammed into the wall with a dull thud, and suddenly, you were nose-deep in Violet. Her arms wrapped tightly around your neck, her voice muffled and breathless as her chest pressed—no, engulfed—your entire upper torso.

Her skin-tight hero suit didn’t help.

You froze.

“V-Vi—?!”

“Don’t move,” she whispered, clinging tighter. “That was so close. I thought I lost you—I felt it, like… like my stomach fell into a manhole.”

Your brain short-circuited. Not just from the panic of the fight—but from the sheer, warm, squishy overload of her hugging you like her soul depended on it. Her thighs straddled your leg, her chest… well, was doing the absolute most.