Ellie & Abby Twitter Links Pt. 2 ♡

now or never pt. 4

xu minghao x fem!reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

word count: 10.4k

synopsis: when you make a chance encounter with your ex, you end up saying that you’re engaged to your estranged neighbor xu minghao. when you find out your ex is coming to your friend’s wedding, you’ve only got a month to become a convincing couple.

warnings: chronic illness talk, so much fluff, filthy oral sex lmao, descriptions of female anatomy blowjobs, long car rides, etc.

notes: part 4 is here! finally! longest chapter yet!!! took me exactly a month but I needed to make sure it was perfect. this chapter is building out minghao's character a bit more with some more relationship progress! this covers the last week before the wedding, so there's only one more chapter left !!! thank you for all the love on this series, it feels like it's getting bigger and bigger with every part which is so incredible! please enjoy as always 💓

tag list: @lavenderautumnx @mangogyu @idyllic-ghost @thetigeragenda @sleeplessdawn @bfwonu @soffrine @kwonranghae @butterfliesinthenightsky @sugarrimajins @hitorijanaikara-blog-blog @cosmicwintr @lztespring @justasoftstan @lilactangerine @jeongiegram @hoohoohope @itzelise06 @bonsaijoons @trashygigi @playboygeniusphilanthropist @thedeeppoet @mo-onlar @kyoko-22 @thesunsfullmoon

You wish that the rest of the day could’ve gone well, but Joshua’s confession just floats in your brain, leaving you unable to do much else with yourself.

Minghao drops you off back at your front door after your outing, revenge dress still not revealed. You wanted to see it, but he can sense you’re too tired to deal with it all.

“No, I’m ready, I can look at it,” You reply half heartedly. You try to muster up your enthusiasm, but he can see right through it.

“No, I’m making you go back to sleep. We can just wait on it. I need you to be excited, and I don’t think your mood is anywhere near there,” He pulls your hand to his mouth, leaving a kiss on your palm. You close your eyes and take a breath before glaring at him again.

“Fine,” you pout.

“Let me know if you wanna see me again today, ok?” He pulls you into a hug and you seem to melt into his arms.

“Okay,” You whisper into his ear. You linger in the hug a bit longer than you expected, it feels like a silent plea for him to stay. Yet, you pull away, exchange goodbyes, and tuck yourself into your apartment before you can cry in front of him. You don’t even get to wallow in your sadness for very long before that familiar pain seizes your body without much warning.

Flare ups never give you much time to prepare for impact, you just have to hope you’re lucky enough to catch them in a place where you can sit for an extended period of time.

The rest of the day is a blur, you don’t even remember trying to change clothes or freshen up. You ignore your phone to focus on your comfort show playing on your laptop screen, moving only to charge your computer when prompted.

You knew it was bad to push everyone away for something you couldn’t control, but you still felt the need to process things like this alone.

You forget that the front door was unlocked, so you don’t hear anyone come in until you hear his voice. “Brat, where are you?” You hear the door lock behind him.

The pet name makes you pause the show and close your laptop. You push yourself further into your blanket, tucking your face away into the soft fabric.

“Hello?” You hear him call out again, but you still don’t move. It felt so childish to hide from him, but you couldn’t make yourself stand up to meet him even if you wanted to.

You hear him walk through the living room into your bedroom. His footsteps stop at the sight of you. Before he sits, he goes to turn on the lamp near your side of the bed before making his way to you. You see the pitch black room illuminate with that recognizable soft warmth and you start to feel even worse.

You feel the other side of the bed dip as he settles onto the comforter.

“What’s going on?” His voice is low.

He’s close enough that you can smell his cologne and you realize it’s the most comforting scent in your life. There were traces of him around your apartment, but nothing beat the real thing.

“I can’t move at all,” You push the blanket off your face, but you can’t look at him. You just focus your eyes on the creases in your sheets. He seems to understand exactly what you mean by the way he shifts his weight towards you.

“Shit,” His voice turns frantic, and he grabs your face without a second thought. You finally make eye contact with him and his eyes are nervous. It unnerves you to see him so scared of you, you feel like you have to comfort him instead.

“I’m fine, Hao,” You whisper. He’s not convinced at all, if anything he looks more scared.

“Please, darling, don’t think about your pride, I need to know how I can help you,” His voice shakes and you feel a pang of guilt in your stomach. How could you try to deny how much pain you’re in around him when he’s done nothing but try to understand you? His pleading ultimately convinces you to let your guard down.

“I haven’t taken any of my medicine. It feels much worse when I don’t,” Your face twists into discomfort.

“Okay, where is it?” His voice is now stable, he seems resolute in his quest to be strong for you.

“Top shelf of my cabinet in the bathroom, there are two big bottles with red labels on them. They should be right next to each other,” Your eyes are closed by the time you finish giving him instructions, and you assume Minghao is anxiously searching by the way the bed lets up.

He only rummages in the bathroom for a minute or so before returning. He puts everything down on the nightstand before grabbing your attention, holding your face in his hands.

“Hey, can you sit up at all? Is that too hard right now?”

“I can try,” You barely move an inch before his arms are anchored to your side, slowly helping you sit up before you could do anything yourself.

You’re surprisingly comfortable now, and he takes the initiative to remove the blanket from your face. “You seemed overheated,” His brows are knitted in concern as he strokes your cheek with his fingers. You’re definitely sweating, so you’re glad he did something.

“Is there an order you’re supposed to take these in?” He holds one of the bottles up and you nod.

“The bigger one first or else I could die,” You reply nonchalantly, but his eyes read as very concerned. He’s staring at you with that same frantic look from before, but you relieve his worries almost immediately.

“Kidding,” you offer a small smile and he scoffs.

“Don’t joke right now, I’m worried sick about you,” He points an accusing finger, but his face melts into a nervous smile. His worried energy makes you feel much worse the second time around.

“But I do take that one first,” You confirm and he’s nodding his head. He grabs your water bottle from the nightstand, setting it between his legs. As he sits with crossed legs, reading your pill bottles with attentive eyes while his hair hangs in front of his face, you want to cry.

You realize the man in front of you deserves to be let in.

He doesn’t deserve to be ghosted for 12 hours while you’re in excruciating pain, only wanting to help you in your time of need. Even though you’re used to a concerning level of hyper-independence and self-sufficiency, his actions start to convince you that it shouldn’t be that way.

Why do you need to suffer when someone is waiting to help you?

Wouldn’t he have dropped everything to come take care of you hours ago?

The thought of pushing him away without considering his feelings eats at you on the inside.

He gets the first bottle open and feeds you the first two pills one by one, holding your water bottle up for you so you can sip without moving a finger.

“Your bedside manner is really good,” You nod at him once you’ve finished drinking your water and he runs his fingers through his hair with a gentle smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, you treat me better than some of the nurses I’ve had.”

You’re not lying either which makes the hint of concern on his face hurt even more.

“Okay, one more,” You didn’t notice that he already opened the second bottle, but you accepted the pill from his fingers once again. He holds up the water for you one last time, waiting for you to swallow before his eyes ease up on you.

“All done,” He runs his hand across your cheek again. “I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything, right?” It’s not an intruding question when he asks it, there’s no judgment behind his eyes.

You shake your head no and the embarrassment washes over you. “I’m sorry,” You start sobbing and he scrambles to move everything in his lap to get closer to you.

“Why?”

“You just wanted to know how I was feeling and you didn’t even ask for any of this,” You wipe your eyes with your sleeves, your words start to get lost between hiccups. He gently moves your hands out of the way to wipe your tears. The moment he puts his hands down, you pull him in close and he lets you cry into his chest. He whispers comforting words into your ear, cradling your head with his arm. He waits for you to stop sniffling before he speaks up again.

“I don’t like you because I pity you. You have to know that,” He whispers in your ear before pulling back to face you. “You’re so determined and kind, there’s so many things I admire about you when you’re not worrying me half to death,” He makes a jokingly frustrated glance that makes you blush.

“But seriously, I’m happy to help you. You don’t bother me, taking care of you is not a chore. I want to take care of you as long as you want me here. Okay?” He’s got that soft adoring tone in his voice, the one that’s reserved for pulling you out of your overthinking. It works like a charm every time.

“Okay, I believe you,” You nod, letting his words sink into your subconscious slowly. Compassion is still so foreign to you, but you can tell he is determined to change that.

“Let’s have some food and get washed up. I’m gonna make you some tea as well,” The look on his face shows that he’s already got everything laid out in his mind.

“I don’t know what you did, but my muscles already feel better.” It would always take far too long for your medicine to kick in, but Minghao seemed to be gentle enough to make a significant difference. It seemed your body seemed to know the difference when you were being treated gently as well.

“I have magic powers,” He winks and you let him go to start his dinner prep.

He ended up doing everything for you, to say he pampered you is definitely an understatement. He doesn’t let you lift a single finger for the rest of the night, only letting you go when you demand to brush your teeth on your own. You didn’t expect him to be so attentive, but you think he’s just trying to make up for not being able to take care of you before.

When you’re finished eating dinner and your tea is gone, he’s practically attached to you in bed. He can’t stop himself from burying his face into the side of your neck, only moving to nestle himself closer to you. Minghao always starts off sleeping on his own side whenever you’re in bed together, so to start off very close to you is a nice dynamic shift. You’re slowly discovering how important physical contact is for him, it makes you feel even more connected to him.

He somehow convinced you to change into new pajamas, but you do feel more like a human being now. You should’ve spoken up before you were both attempting to sleep, but your brain makes it impossible to settle without bringing your thoughts up.

“Hao?”

“Yeah?” He rasps out, blinking his eyes open at you. You immediately felt bad knowing he needed the rest, but you didn’t want to ignore the chance to speak your mind now that he was awake.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” You pressed a kiss to his hair for the trouble.

“I wasn’t really asleep yet,” You hear him take a deep breath and he pulls himself closer to you. “What’s up?”

“I don’t want to stop seeing you after the wedding. I’ve been trying to find a good way to tell you officially, but I don’t think the agreement holds up much anymore,” You finish ranting and he’s surprisingly quiet. You feel him let go of your hold and your first instinct thinks you might have fucked up.

He didn’t want to be serious with you.

The lamp suddenly flashes on, forcing you to blink to adjust to the new light. He seems lost in thought until he meets your eyes.

“I don’t wanna stop seeing you either,” He smiles so brightly that it spreads to his eyes, “I think you’ve got a little too much of my heart for me to say no.”

You could’ve cried from relief. You had a suspicion that someone who took a dress commission from you for free didn’t want to be just friends.

“Thank god,” You put your head in your hands and sigh to yourself. Was it too soon to think you could be in love with him? Absolutely.

Yet, did those feelings grow when you saw how giddy he got at the thought of you? Yes.

“So you were nervous to ask me?” He reaches out for your hold and you do your best to crawl over to him. He closes the distance when he notices a hint of struggle on your face and wraps his arms around you tightly.

“A little bit,” You mumble into his chest. You feel his giggles vibrate across your body and he runs his hands down your back.

“You make me nervous too, for the record. I figured if I fucked up the dress, that was it,” He sighed loudly. It was nice to know the feeling was mutual though, that you were both feeling so excited yet nervous about the connection that it stopped you both in your tracks.

“You couldn’t possibly fuck up the dress, though,” You knew he was far too talented for that, especially after seeing his vision for other projects in his studio.

“You’re right, I didn’t,” He admitted, making you both burst into laughter. It was nice to see him hype himself up for a second despite the humble attitude he adopted most times when complimented on his work.

You both talked about fashion related things until you felt pulled toward sleep once again. Your head is nestled on his chest and you’re almost certain that his idle touches to your skin knock you out quickly.

You almost think you’re dreaming things when you hear him whisper to you.

“Don’t scare me like that again, I can’t lose you,” It’s so faint but it’s enough to push you into sleep completely.

You don’t want to scare him like that either, especially since he’s proven how much he can be there for you.

You figure it’s time to show him how much you care for him too.

--

“I don’t want to be there when you try it on,” Minghao remains insistent at your front door.

You’re not exactly convinced with the garment bag hanging over your shoulder. Minghao had finally given you permission to see the dress, but with one stipulation that you couldn’t exactly wrap your head around.

“Why not?” You try to stop your face from twisting into a discontent expression.

“I imagine it’ll be kinda emotional, I don’t want to get in the way of that. I know, it sounds stupid, but I’ve done it for so long with my commissions. Just trust me,” He raises his eyebrows at you.

You give him an anxious glance and he smiles at you. “You can come over once you’ve tried it on. You can tell me all your reactions and everything, I promise!” He exclaims.

“Okay, I trust you,” You nod through the response. You exchange quick goodbyes and you shut the door behind you.

You give yourself a few seconds before you’re practically running into your bedroom.

You lay the bag down gently onto your bed and unzip down the front until the dress is partially exposed. From first glance, you can tell it’s dramatic. The sight of a strapless gown takes your breath away.

Before you can even take it out of the bag, you notice a note attached to the front of the plastic. You read it to yourself:

To my muse-

I hope I made you the perfect revenge dress. If you don’t like it, then feel free to drag me through the mall to find you something better. It’ll only hurt my feelings a little bit.

Hao

The end of the note left you laughing, but a few things make your heart clench.

First, muse. You don’t know why it pulls so much at your heart to hear him call you that. It’s probably the weight of the situation, how quickly you’ve grown together, it all feels so precious to you.

Second, the idea that whatever he made you could be worse than a department store dress didn’t make sense at all. You’re sure whatever he made would be nestled in your heart forever, the intimacy of making you something this personal was not lost on you.

You don’t want to mull on the note for too long, so you place it on your dresser before coming back to look at the dress again.

You carefully unwrap it out of the plastic and hold it up to get a better look at it.

It’s breathtaking, even just on a hanger. The black sheen fabric feels so lush in your fingers, you can’t describe how it makes you feel.

You expected it to be a bit revealing, but the combination of the strapless neckline and the high slit are almost lethal.

It takes you a few minutes to actually get dressed, but once it’s on, you feel like a new person. The moment you see yourself in the mirror, you’re speechless.

First of all, the dress fits perfectly. It hugs your hips and compliments your figure so well that you don’t think you’ve ever seen your body look so at ease in a garment.

The strapless neckline compliments your chest, slightly bolstered by the structured corset bodice. The slit is almost dangerously high, you’re staring at just how exposed your leg is.

It feels dangerous to even wear it in the comfort of your bedroom. You can only imagine what power it would give you in public.

You don’t think any of the jewelry you have in your closet would be good enough to match it, but something would have to do.

Minghao was right that wearing the dress brings something out of you. It wasn’t about feeling desirable by Joshua anymore, it was a rebirth of your identity without him. It was cathartic to see yourself wear something that would force you to grab attention instead of hiding away.

This dress reminds you that weren’t going to minimize yourself for anyone anymore.

After a few more glances at yourself, you’re itching to get back in your sweatpants so you can run to Minghao’s door.

Once you get out of the dress, you get dressed in your other clothes in record speed. You barely remember to put on your slides before you’re out the front door.

You’re nearly breathless when you arrive at his door. You end up knocking on the door so loudly that he’s almost shocked to see you on the other side.

You push yourself past him, and he’s watching you with a mischievous eye while closing the door behind him.

You kiss him before he can say anything, capturing his lips so quickly that he nearly stumbles into the hallway closet.

“It’s so perfect,” you say between kisses, “I just wanna kiss you because I can’t pay you for it.” You’re moaning into the kisses at this point, so much so that Minghao pulls away with a dazed expression.

“You love it that much?” He bites his lip at how eager you are.

“Yes, I’m fucking obsessed with it. Thank you so much,” You rest your head in the crook of his neck for a second before looking at him again.

“You’re welcome, darling. I’m really glad you like it.”

He admires your face for a bit too long that you start to feel pulled in by his glance. The longer you look at him, desire overtakes any of the rationality you have left.

“I don’t think I’ve said thank you enough,” Your hands land on his chest, you can barely stop yourself from wandering down to his nipples.

“Show me then,” He can’t help himself when he teases you, taking your hands and snaking them underneath his shirt.

His skin still feels like a surprise to you despite your previous encounters. Suddenly, everything in you wants to take things much slower than your hasty entrance.

You’ll have so much time to go hard and fast with him, but capturing your unspoken showing of gratitude feels much more paramount.

--

Although having time to figure out your career was nice, the threat of not having money for rent was much bigger. You thought carefully about Minghao’s words, how the idea of wanting to start over with fashion was enough at the moment, but you were tired of sitting and waiting.

You needed to take action.

You didn’t want to rely on Minghao to get your foot in the door, despite him probably wanting to help you out.

Your portfolios from college didn’t exactly reflect your current vision as a designer, but they had enough material for you to present to any potential employers. You didn’t have much to lose, so you spent hours trying to scour through resources online for any possible leads on apprenticeships or openings for residencies.

You sent far too many emails to fashion houses around the city within one day, including Minghao’s employer Semicolon. You get so wrapped up in typing that Minghao has to pry your laptop away from you in the middle of you drafting an email, much to your dismay. He reassures you that whoever responds back will be lucky to have you, which is true, but you still try not to get your hopes up about anything.

Thus, when you receive an email the next day from the head of Minghao’s department, to say you’re shocked is an understatement.

You wouldn’t be working directly with runway clients, but in the print department instead. You had more experience with magazine work anyways, back when you used to get involved with a few different student magazines on campus as an underclassmen.

It’s a lower level designer job, but a job nonetheless. You weren’t exactly in a position to turn down the interview, especially when you knew how well they paid at all levels.

Your interview happened to be on the big day of Minghao’s consideration for a promotion as well.

He mentioned it in his sleepy ramblings a few nights ago, how he was up for a promotion to head designer. He would be the lead designer on any national and international runway collections that the company created, positioning him as one of the most established in-house designers at Semicolon.

It was a major deal, especially since he would be the youngest person to be head designer in Semicolon’s history. All eyes were on him, and you were certain that the pressure was getting to him.

You both stood outside the company building on the day of, 15 minutes before your meetings, hands intertwined with similar levels of nerves accompanying you. You turn to face him with a nervous look in your eyes.

“We’ll be fine, right?” You ask quietly.

“We have to be,” He nods at you, absentmindedly biting his lip. You look at the building again with scattered eyes, your brain doesn’t even feel remotely prepared for this.

“The worst we can get is a no,” It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself as you say it, but you need to hear it out loud.

“Exactly,” He affirms you with a gentle squeeze to your hand. “We’ll walk in together, take the same elevator and no matter what happens, it’ll be okay.”

You nod and take one last deep breath before he starts leading you both inside the building. Your senses are too focused on the task at hand to look around the lobby this time, you don’t seem to relax until you both step inside the elevator.

You’re going to floor 8 while he goes to floor 19. He presses both buttons and faces you again. “You’re gonna do perfect, darling. You have everything you need,” He leaves a kiss on your forehead and pulls you into a short yet tight hug.

“You too. You’re gonna make the best head designer this company has ever seen,” You kiss his cheek the moment you’re out of the hug. He nods with a silent certainty that things will go well. The 8th floor chime comes sooner than you want, but you step out, clutching your portfolio for dear life. You look at him one last time before the elevator closes and he blows you a kiss with a short wave.

You can barely smile back before the elevator doors close and you’re alone again. You figure that you’ll never be 100% ready for whatever happens, so you look for the designated office before you can question yourself any longer.

45 minutes later, you’re left a bit unnerved as you close the office door behind you. The elevator ride back down to the lobby has your mind completely swimming, but you know that you can’t process any of it until Minghao is out of his meeting.

You both agreed to wait outside for each other once the interviews were over. You figured that you’d be out before him, and your suspicions were correct when you didn’t notice anyone sitting outside on the benches near the entrance.

It feels like you’re waiting a lifetime until you finally see his figure walk out of the revolving doors. His face is unreadable when he approaches you with a small wave.

“Okay, we’re gonna say yes or no if we got the job on the count of 3,” You brace yourself for whatever he says and he agrees to your proposition immediately.

“1, 2, 3,” He counts slowly.

“Yes,” You both speak in unison.

His eyes go wide and you nearly drop your bag.

“Oh my fucking god,” You scream into his ear, wrapping your arms around him until you can barely feel your fingertips. He reciprocates the hug immediately and nearly tackles you in the process. You’re both just waddling around in this hug for a few minutes, drinking in each other’s success until you can barely breathe.

“You deserve this so fucking much,” He comes up for air and almost knocks you over with a kiss. Your mouth melts into his instantly, you can’t stop your tongue from pushing into his mouth. You can feel just how excited he is by the way he holds your face with his hands.

He’s quite good at the push and pull, he still knows how to make you flustered after each kiss. He pulls away with a giggle, leaving you completely breathless.

“You do too, head designer,” You push his shoulder playfully and you can see the tips of his ears turn red.

“Come on, let’s go home so we can get wasted,” He pouts and you can’t exactly say no to that face.

“Can we drink the cheap wine I have in my fridge? I think I have too much to drink on my own,” You ask him as you both walk back to his car arm in arm.

“Absolutely, we can do anything you want. We deserve to celebrate,” He can’t help himself as he leaves a kiss on your cheek.

You want to bottle up this feeling so badly. Yet, you’re sure that you’ll always remember the way the light summer breeze hitting your face, holding hands with your lover, smiling until your cheeks hurt because you both got lucky on the exact same day in the same building.

It feels like nothing else really matters in the moment besides the way Minghao kisses you, as if he’ll never be able to taste your lips again.

You hold him to the promise of drinking and making out, the former coming first. You arrange a few bottles of wine on your living room floor, slowly making your way through them together until you’re too giggly to keep going.

You give up on drinking out of wine glasses and you decide to periodically switch bottles instead, taking a few sips of one bottle before switching flavors.

Soon enough, he was pushing your hand away from the bottle with a small giggle.

“Stop it,” He swats your hand lightly and quickly captures it between his hands. The swift movement makes you scream and he’s shushing you, but you both fall right back into laughter.

“You’re drinking just as much as me!” You exclaim. He pushes his lips out to deflect your statement, but it’s true. His cheeks are flushed and he’s laughing at everything you’re saying, a classic tell that he’s drunk.

“Maybe I just wanted to look at you, how about that darling?” He tilts his head and your playful frustration comes out.

“Where did this darling thing come from? You started doing it out of nowhere,” You scrunch your face at him and he’s slightly embarrassed.

“Didn’t want to call you brat forever. Do you not like it?” He gets slightly quiet and you hit his shoulder. There’s absolutely no way you could ever hate his nicknames, they feel too comfortable for him to ever stop.

“I love it! I just like brat too,” You shrug your shoulders and he smirks at you. “No, not like that, you’re so gross,” You push him again and he puts his arms around you before you can touch him again.

“I didn’t mean it in that way, brat,” He presses lots of kisses to your cheek, enough that you want to squirm away out of fake discomfort.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Your words start slurring to the point where Minghao is stumbling to get you both some water.

“Where are you going?” You shut your eyes but reach out for him, making grabby hands that he can’t help but coo at.

“You’re so fucking cute, but you need water. We both do,” You hear him come back and sit next to you again. He taps your face to get you to open your eyes and he’s handing you the cup of water carefully. He can’t even let you hold it completely, he’s cupping your hands and helping you drink the entire cup. You don’t want to admit that it’s easier to have him help, so you keep it to yourself.

He gulps down his own cup of water and moves them out of the way so that you don’t knock them over.

“Let me take care of you,” You sigh, your shoulders visibly lowering with the release of air. Your eyes are not shy about wandering to his crotch and he laughs a bit too loudly.

“You don’t have to do anything, it’s okay,” He insists.

“I want to,” You fight back immediately, the desire taking over when you lay your hands flat on his thighs. There’s a beat of silence before you ask him for permission.

“Can I?” It’s a whisper that you’re not even sure he heard, you can’t even look in his eyes. He lifts your chin to meet your gaze. His eyes are so forgiving that you know he wants it before he can even speak out loud.

“Go ahead, baby,” He nods and your hands are already unzipping his pants, you don’t have to give him time before he’s taking off both his pants and boxers at once.

The sight of his cock still leaves you speechless, no matter if he’s giving you one quick round before he’s going to work or if he gets to take his time with you. Precum is already leaking from his tip, you wish you had the patience to tease him like you wanted to, but you just want the taste of him too badly.

He’s visibly hard, so much so that the moment you touch him he flinches.

“It’s okay, love, just relax,” You reassure him. You lick the underside of his cock and he lets out a shaky breath, he clearly didn’t expect it which makes it even better.

You settle yourself between his legs, your nails draw light scratches down his thighs and his eyes are already fluttering shut.

You don’t give him a warning before you take his length in your mouth. You hear him moan and it spurs you on to take him completely, he hits the back of your throat and the sting you feel doesn’t matter when his reactions are so pretty. It makes him hiss and he grabs your shoulder out of desperation. “Baby, please, I’m gonna cum if you keep going this hard,” He whispers, his grip tightening slightly.

You pull off briefly to give him an innocent smile and he returns it quickly. “Okay,” You take him into your mouth again after your reply, slowly moving your head back and forth until he’s completely comfortable. His desperate groans are your kryptonite, so you subconsciously speed up and let him adjust to it. The taste of his precum mixed with your saliva is intoxicating, it definitely helps to hear him whining.

You feel him clutch your hair, guiding you slightly further onto him. “Your mouth feels so fucking good, baby,” His voice is laced with so much pleasure that it drives you crazy. This is definitely the messiest blowjob you’ve ever given, but he doesn’t seem to mind how sloppy it is.

You experimentally push his cock to the back of your throat again and he lets out a strangled groan, nearly letting go of your hair. His noises are the only thing filling the room, a mix of whines and moans filling your ears.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” His reply is barely coherent, but it’s enough to know he’s coming towards the edge. You suck him a bit more before you move your mouth off of him again and he complains.

“I’m so close,” He whispers. He watches you stand up and straddle yourself onto his lap. The new friction makes him throw his head back in pleasure, screwing his eyes shut. He’s willing himself to not cum on the spot, focusing instead on your face.

You want to be rational, you should still be between his legs sucking him off so that he can just cum in your mouth. Yet, your core feels so neglected that selfishness takes over.

“I want you to cum in me,” You put on your best innocent voice to try and convince him. His eyebrows raise in suspicion.

“Are you on birth control?” He questions and you nod immediately, leaning down to place kisses in the crook of his neck. You hadn’t had a proper conversation about experimenting during sex, but your drunk subconscious mind decided to speedrun it with him tonight.

“I’m clean, I promise. I’m gonna feel so tight on you, Hao, please,” You put on the charm when you whisper in his ear. When he doesn’t respond immediately, you roll your hips down onto him. He tightens his arms around you with a loud moan that surprises you.

“You’re such a little shit,” He slips his hands underneath your shirt to unhook your bra, throwing it across the room. He squeezes your breasts, kneading them roughly. You let out a breathless moan, the feeling of him finally touching your skin feels more satisfying than you thought it would.

He watches you get undressed before forcing you back onto his lap.

You let him lower you down onto his cock and you both let out filthy moans at the sensation of being inside each other without any barriers. You can feel how sensitive he is inside you, every movement feels far more intense than all the other times you’ve fucked.

“Gonna let you cum first,” You sigh, slowly moving yourself on his cock. He lets out a bitter sounding laugh that you can’t tell if it’s a joke or not.

“So nice of you,” He scratches his nails down your back with a bit of a mean streak. It doesn’t take long before his moans are picking up again, and you think you’d like to return that mean energy of his.

You kiss down his neck, hips still moving rapidly. You pick a random visible spot to suck a mark on his neck, not taking the pain into consideration at all. He stutters out in agony, whining so loudly that it makes you smile against his skin.

“Fucking hell,” He sighs out loud enough for you to contemplate doing it again. You don’t have time to make a decision before he clutches your hips, you feel him clench around you and his cum fills you up quickly. You both still your movements and his mouth is fully agape, his chest heaving from how hard his orgasm hit.

“Don’t move,” He grits out, he’s still panting but he knows he has to act quickly. You know he’s slightly annoyed, but his fingers move to your clit, rubbing you so quickly that your brain can barely catch up.

You can already feel yourself clenching around his cock, he knows how to work you up so intensely that a proper orgasm can hit you out of nowhere.

“Please Hao, please let me,” Your words trail off and you can barely look at him, much less keep still around him.

“Let you do what? You need to tell me,” That teasingly sweet voice of his is anything but helpful at the moment. You’re nearly crying from the pressure on your core, his fingers just won’t stop moving and it makes it so hard not to disobey him.

“Fuck, please let me cum, I can’t hold it,” You’re panting, you think you can feel his cum seeping out of you onto the floor. You look down and it’s true, his cum ended up near your feet. It shouldn’t feel that satisfying, but it is, the overstimulation of fluids makes it hard to deny yourself any more pleasure.

“Then cum,” He makes it sound like it’s nothing, but his nonchalance works so easily on you. You let yourself cum almost immediately, clamping your hand over your mouth to restrain the wildly unpredictable moans coming out of you. The clenching feels so intense that you have to move, you have to do something to combat the pain radiating throughout your body.

After a few moments, he helps you get off of his lap and your legs are shaking, you’ve definitely sobered up a bit from all the action. He finally kisses you, letting his mouth linger on your lips for a few moments so you can savor him. “You did well, darling,” He kisses your cheek before getting up to start your joint aftercare routine.

You watch him with heavy eyelids, and the aftercare seems to happen without much effort on your part. He always dotes on you to a point where you stop trying to fight it, especially now when you’re not exactly drunk or sober to do anything at all.

You’re just lucky to eventually be put in bed with fresh pajamas on. He definitely had to coax you to take your medicine, but things went relatively easily.

It’s only when you’re both falling towards sleep that you feel the urge to hold a conversation again. “Sorry for not finishing you off,” you mumble. You hear him laugh under his breath.

“It’s okay, you’re really keeping me on my toes,” You feel him curl tighter into your side. You hum in response, and you let another minute go by.

“Are you scared things might not work out between us?” You ask suddenly. Your voice comes out much smaller than you wanted it to.

“Sometimes. The month went by pretty quickly,” His response makes you feel less alone in your anxiety. It felt like such a whirlwind romance that you didn’t have much time to enjoy the little intricacies of getting to know each other.

You learned about each other out of desperation, surprised that something fruitful came out of that need to look acceptable as a couple to others.

“I think so too. But whatever happens, it’s still worth it that I got to know you,” You offer, you wish you could see his face so that he saw just how much you meant it.

You didn’t want to picture the past month without him, you can’t imagine a reality where Minghao isn’t there by your side to take care of you.

“Do you think I’m worth all the effort? Do you regret meeting me?” His questions leave a pang of guilt in your heart. He’s usually quite self-sufficient with his worries, typically isolating for a while before coming back to silently ask for kisses and cuddles. Thus, you don’t get many chances to verbalize how much you like him when he’s feeling upset.

“You’re completely worth it, Hao. I don’t regret any of this. You’re so special to me,” You soothe his worries with such sweet words. He takes a moment to process them, until you hear a sniffle.

You grow concerned, so you turn on your lamp. A teary eyed Minghao looks at you with a slight pout. His eyes are slightly puffy and you try not to let any surprise cross your face.

“My baby,” You instinctively pull him into your chest like he’s done it for you so many times. His cries are so quiet, but you can still feel his body shake in your arms.

“You mean a lot to me. I hate hiding my feelings from you,” His tone is somewhat even, most of the emotion doesn’t spill through.

“Whenever you want to tell me anything, I’m here. I like hearing whatever is on your mind,” You leave soft touches on his shoulder. He’s always been quite practical and objective, letting you know exactly how he feels about things, so to see him with his guard down means he trusts you so deeply.

“Okay, I promise I will,” He pulls his face back from your hold to wipe his tears. He grabs your hands and holds them to his chest instead.

“Y/N?” He calls out to you again.

“Yes?”

“I don’t like sleeping without you,” He blinks at you with a small smile. His voice nearly breaks your heart from how cute he sounds.

“I don’t either, and I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Your response makes him close his eyes, nodding softly. You wipe the stray tears still left on his cheeks.

He takes the chance to leave a few pecks on your lips, but you know you need more.

You press your lips to his for a few moments and you can almost feel him melt into your touch. He lets out a quiet satisfied hum the moment you pull away from him.

You turn away to turn off the lamp and he’s already whining, pulling at your arm to stop your movements. “I’m right here, love,” You giggle into his chest, you quickly lie down again to face him in the darkness.

You fall asleep with a few more kisses pressed to your lips, your mutual affection seems to radiate off each other so easily.

You figure this feeling is enough to keep you happy for the rest of your life.

--

The next day, packing your own clothes for the wedding wasn’t hard, but getting Minghao to pack was a bit more difficult.

He insisted that he already put some clothes aside for his suitcase a few days ago, but you don’t notice anything when you enter his closet.

Instead, you’re drawn to his impressive array of clothing. You’re definitely overwhelmed by how cool his pieces are. You figure it’s a mix of clothes he’s made for himself, pieces he’s made for collections that he stole for his own closet, archival designer clothes, and a medley of thrifted clothes sprinkled in.

It was completely foreign to your own closet, it felt like its own little world that you could spend forever in.

When you retreat out of the closet, you notice Minghao is at his desk, hands and body completely still.

He has lots of sketches organized across his desk, but he seems to be staring at one in particular.

“Hao, are you ok, love?” You try. You place your hand on his shoulder and he still doesn’t move.

“My hands aren’t doing what I need them to do,” He hums, blinking at the papers before him.

“Let’s take a break, yeah?” You grab his hands and massage them gently. His eyes flutter shut and he takes a deep breath, slowly leaning into your touch.

“Yeah,” He opens his eyes and slowly stands up from his desk. The promotion is already giving him far more work than before. Despite his position not officially starting until after the wedding, you can sense it’s taking a toll on him already.

You know he’s told you about being a workaholic, but watching him work from home today has made that personality trait even more real in your brain. He gets so focused that it’s hard to break him out of that trance, especially when you try to make him take breaks.

You discover it’s best not to bother him since he has his own internal productivity clock, but you figured it had been a few hours too long since the last break.

You came over to his apartment with the intention of not doing much together anyways, but you didn’t expect him to work the entire time.

“How about we pick out clothes instead?” You suggest, rubbing your hands up and down his arms in a feeble effort to ground him.

“We’re only there for a few days, there’s not much for me to pick out,” He giggles to himself as he looks back at the closet.

Mingyu’s wedding had a formal dress code, but you and Minghao had decided to take an extra day to stay in the vicinity of the small beach town to relax before coming back into town to start the new phases of your professional lives.

“Well, show me these outfits you allegedly picked out, idiot,” You playfully shove him toward the closet and he puts his hands up in defense.

“Fine, fine,” He backs into the closet and turns his attention to the clothes slightly above his eyeline. He grabs a sleek black suit to prop up in his arms.

“Wedding outfit with a nice tie,” He looks at his picks before looking at you for feedback.

The suit was nice, muted enough so that your dress could be the real showstopper. Yet, his tie was still decorated with an intricate pattern that caught your attention.

“Very nice,” You nod and he nods as well before placing it back in the closet. He stays in the closet for a few moments before emerging again with a pastel blue set, a solid button up with matching linen shorts. It was the perfect lazy weekend beach attire.

“And my beach day outfit,” He looks up at you with a proud smile.

“That’s gonna look so pretty on you, especially that color,” You coo at him, your tone gets high at the possibility of seeing him in bright colors. He bites back a smile, but ultimately gives into the compliment with a smirk.

“Thank you,” His voice is a bit smaller now, you notice the tips of his ears are red, but you don’t point it out.

He goes to put the clothes back before your gaze can linger on him for too long, but it’s too late.

You’re already concocting more ways that you can catch him off guard with a compliment.

He pulls out a small black industrial type suitcase out onto the floor of the bedroom, and it suits him completely.

You decide to sit on his bed and watch him pack the suitcase carefully. You’re sure he’s done it countless times that it feels like second nature. You wonder what the inside of his passport looks like, what he’s like on an international flight, the first thing he does in a new country, so many questions about his travel habits plagued you.

His hands treat his clothes so delicately, you can only admire the way he folds his clothes, smoothing his palm across the top to rid any lingering wrinkles before placing them gingerly into the suitcase.

You watch him wander back and forth from the bathroom, casually collecting items to place into side pockets and pouches.

You think you’ve unlocked a new kind of domesticity with him, a silent one where you can adore him from afar without constantly needing to fill the silence. The way his eyes scan the case is enough to keep you captivated.

“Are you enjoying the show?” He brushes his hair back from his forehead, looking up at you suddenly.

“Definitely,” You smile at him with a particular fondness, he senses it with a closed mouth smile.

He closes the top of the suitcase, he’s definitely not done packing for sure, but it’s enough for now when he gets up and sits next to you on the bed.

“Are you nervous about the trip?” His hand finds the nape of your neck easily, slowly rubbing his fingers against your skin.

“Slightly,” You close your eyes for a moment before blinking back at him. He hums in understanding.

“Besides him being there, do you like weddings?” He continues his soft movements, but tries to engage with you further.

“I do,” You can’t help the smile that makes its way onto your face, it’s hard to contain yourself.

“Tell me more,” He giggles at your sudden excitement, he shifts his weight to account for your now perky mood, now absentmindedly playing with your hands.

“Everything about them just makes me happy, I like seeing people in love,” Your tone of voice is so far up in the clouds that he can tell you’re daydreaming.

“Do you think you’ll ever be in love?” His question grounds your dreams instantly.

It shouldn’t unnerve you this much.

You want to tell him that you’re already in love with him, but the words are lodged in your throat so tightly that you can’t do much about it. You can only take a breath and hope he doesn’t notice how much that question affects you.

Yet, you know how he is. He notices something happening with you before you do.

“I’m sure I will,” You nod in affirmation in hopes that he leaves it alone, that he won’t press you any further about the topic.

He doesn’t ask you verbally, but his eyes search yours with a hope that you mean you’ll fall in love with him.

“I know you will. You’re perfect,” His words are laced with so much affection that it almost hurts to hear, so sickly sweet that your heart practically feels weighed down from the kindness of it.

It’s enough to pull him in for a kiss, to help him achieve that feeling in your chest. His lips slot into yours so naturally at this point, you don’t have to try too hard at it before he senses your needs.

He deepens the kiss ever so slightly, but it still leaves your heart fluttering. The tension recreates itself the moment he looks into your eyes. He leaves you breathless and you can feel the slight puffiness of your lips now that you’re away from his mouth.

No matter what he just did, you can’t make each other say what you truly mean.

It’s too much when you’re both packing for a trip where you’re meant to play up a lie that no longer feels like a lie. The relationship is so fragile that it has to keep unfolding in its own time, it’s not meant to handle a rushed confession.

You both deserve better than that.

“You think I’m perfect?” You finally respond to his statement. He sighs with a particularly sweet smile on his face.

“Absolutely,” He examines your face long enough for you to feel safe under his gaze. After a while, you watch him get up to finish organizing his suitcase and you’re not sure what makes you upset.

You wrestle with your feelings as he zips up his suitcase, pushing it to a corner in his room. He convinces you to get ready for bed with him, and it helps you push away the thoughts for now.

No matter what happens this weekend, he’ll be with you. You can only hope that’s enough for you to feel safe.

—

Road trips were a rare occasion for Minghao. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy them, but he never had a good reason to spontaneously travel or the time to take them very often.

Thus, the trip up to the wedding would be momentous. Minghao has read that the strength of relationships are tested when you travel with your partner, and it’s the first time he’s properly done it with anyone he’s dating.

He wants to do it right, so he hopes to make the weekend perfect, starting with getting off work early to mentally prepare himself for the journey.

He would be driving, not that he didn’t trust you, but he was slightly protective of his car. He would’ve insisted on driving you both regardless if you tried to fight him on it, not wanting you to overexert yourself a few days after such a big flare up.

He makes sure you’re as comfortable as possible in the passenger seat, confirming that you have snacks and your comfort items to keep you interested. He triple checks that you have your engagement ring on and you’re nearly cackling at him for being so worried. When he estimated the trip to be a few hours, he didn’t expect it to be 3.5 hours instead.

Yet, the hotel reservations were booked and there’s no viable way to fly to the small town, so he comes to terms with the parameters of the trip.

He’s grateful that you’re actively engaging him in conversation, he needs the mental stimulation to keep himself awake. He already let you pick the playlist to soundtrack the trip which kept you even more energetic.

“So when are we hypothetically getting married?” You ask without warning. “Just in case somebody asks, which I know they will,” He can tell your voice has that little self assured tone to it which makes him smile.

“This time next year, in the summer,” He takes a quick look at you before focusing on the road again.

“Ooh, a summer wedding would be pretty,” You affirm his thoughts. “Where would it be though?”

“Where would you like it to be?” He counters and it catches you off guard. He listens to you ponder your answer with a quiet hum before speaking up.

“I love the idea of it in a garden, like either outside in a garden or in those beautiful indoor greenhouse rooms with the garden outside of it,” The hypothetical details start to build a mental image that makes him excited.

“That sounds beautiful. So it sounds like it won’t be a destination wedding?”

“Absolutely not. It’s nice in theory, but logistically it might be hard for people to get there,” Your tone is resolute, making Minghao giggle as he clutches the steering wheel.

“You’re thinking of our future guests’ well-being already, you’re so sweet,” He coos at you with a pinch to your cheek, his gaze still focused on the road ahead. You were always thinking of other people, never yourself. Even if you wanted an international wedding, you should be able to put your foot down about what you want instead of centering others.

“It’s just a nice thing to do! Besides, there are plenty of nice gardens here,” You reply softly. He wonders if you’ve mentally picked out a venue yet, if you know the ins and outs of the best gardens around the country. He wants to know more, but he decides to keep moving.

“Ok, how many people would be coming to the wedding then?” He raises his eyebrows.

“No more than 300,” The reply comes almost immediately, “I don’t think I even know 100 people,” Your voice turns slightly concerned at the thought, but he’s quick to reassure you.

“That makes sense, bigger weddings kind of become more of a spectacle than focusing on the marriage itself. It’s weird,” He shakes his head at the idea of it. To him, weddings should feel somewhat intimate, and having over 1,000 people watch you get married makes him feel a bit unsettled.

“Exactly! We’re not celebrities, just people. Please keep the fashion industry invites to a minimum,” You joke and it makes him laugh.

“Trust me, most of them would not be coming,” He rolls his eyes and repositions his hands on the wheel. As much as he likes his work, it had to be separate from his personal life as much as possible now that you worked there too. There had to be some distance, even if this wedding wouldn’t be a problem in the immediate future.

“Sounds like you'd like to be involved in wedding planning then.”

“Yes, for sure. You shouldn’t have to do that alone, it’s my wedding too,” He whines lightly at the end of the sentence and now it’s your turn to fawn over him.

“Of course, love. I can’t imagine doing it alone,” You card your fingers through his hair and he sighs gently at your touch. This kind of daydreaming makes Minghao want to propose all over again just to give you that perfect garden wedding.

He can already picture you both on your not so hypothetical wedding day, it all aligns in his brain so perfectly that it feels too good to be true. He knows he’s jumping too far into the future, but he can’t help it when you give him so much to work with. He knows the timeline in between matters as well, everything about you matters to him.

The wedding banter goes on for a bit longer until you fall asleep. That makes up the bulk of the trip, him driving with your music playing softly in the background while you’re cuddled up against the window. He prefers driving in relative silence, it gives him the space to think about everything coming within the next day.

He honestly doesn’t know how you’ll fare when you see Joshua again, considering how difficult the entire situation has been for you. Frankly, he doesn’t know how he’ll act around Joshua either knowing just how much he’s hurt you. He can only hope you choose yourself and your own feelings first.

He knows you’re a heavy sleeper, but he discovers it even more now. When someone tries to cut him off on the highway, he’s forced to honk his horn but he looks over to discover you’re still dead asleep.

The slight dips in the road and any slight swerves he makes to avoid potholes don’t disturb you much at all besides the occasional stirring in your sleep.

He eventually stops about 2 and a half hours into the journey to get gas and stretch his legs, but he’s still in good spirits overall. Somehow, the stopped car doesn’t wake you up, something he uses to his advantage.

He grabs his phone to take photos of you, angling himself in as many different ways possible to capture you. He smiles to himself as he quickly scrolls through the photos to choose a new one for his lockscreen. He still hadn’t changed it, he felt like none of his pictures captured that unspeakable feeling you give him until now.

He thinks you’re absolutely adorable, your arms are tightly crossed across your chest with your hands hidden by your hoodie sleeves. At some point before you fell asleep, you pulled the strings tight enough that your head was almost swallowed up by the fabric, to him you looked like a little egg. It was definitely picture worthy in his mind, and he was lucky enough that he got the pictures before you woke up.

“Hao? Are we there yet?” You ask him sleepily, eyes blinking open slowly.

“Not yet, darling. We’ve got another hour or so,” He rubs your thigh gently. You only nod and settle back into a comfortable position, facing your body away from Minghao towards the window.

He realizes something as he starts the car again, pulling back onto the roads to finish the last leg of the drive.

It sets in more as the sun sets on the horizon, even further when he parks the car and takes a deep breath to himself. He helps you wake up completely so you can both get your luggage out of the car. The check in process goes easily, but it’s not until you’re both in the elevator that it hits him.

He loves you.

He loves the way you always lean into his touch, how you give him the space to be himself, the subtle ways you look after him that he can’t always verbalize.

He loves that despite everything, you still love so fiercely.

He grew into his love for you, the pieces of it came together without him even realizing it. He didn’t want to admit it when Soonyoung and Chan kept telling him how head over heels he was for you, especially when he found a way to come over to your apartment almost every day just so he could see you.

He didn’t want to admit how many times he restarted the sketching process for the dress, how he held a meticulous eye over his sewing machine so that every stitch held a bit of his love for you. He wanted to make sure that all of the extra time he spent on small details would show even a fraction of his adoration for you.

He loves you and he wonders if he’ll be able to say it out loud before you go back home.

Diluc & Drunk Creator Reader

Creator reader waking up in the world of genshin, thinking it's a dream, and proceeds to get drunk in Angel's Share because wow this dream is crazy and they can't find any of their favorite characters anyway (they're probably busy). Might as well drink the day away.

Drunk creator reader accidentally injuring themselves, maybe hitting a table or breaking a glass, now there's drops of gold blood on the tavern floor and the equally drunk patrons are panicking because the creator is sitting with them drunk??

Diluc arriving for his shift so confused and trying to calm the commotion but he can't understand a thing because everyone's too drunk to explain. He sees the gold blood and he sees you and you see him and you just-

Straight up start bawling because it's Diluc Ragnvindr in the flesh. You're crying and practically clinging to him, demanding why isn't he coming home??? And he's mortified bc wtf

"I gave you all my primogems, I have all your talent and ascension materials, I wouldn't mind losing 50/50 to you every time I pull but WHY AREN'T YOU COMING HOME TO ME!!!"

And he's just so lost and he doesn't know how to respond to that because what do you mean the divine creator wants him to come home???

And the whole Mondstadt gang arrives and there's Jean and Kaeya trying to help your drunk self and Barbara's healing your wound and Venti is crying with you and you're sobbing on the counter about how Diluc's being so stubborn and how Diluc-wanters are cursed to never be Diluc-havers and Diluc just stares at you, frozen.

And Jean just goes, "How could you not come home to their holiness!" to Diluc as she pats your back.

And poor Diluc is just so confused as the rest comforts you as if he's the bad guy who broke up with you.

Fast forward to a terrible hangover in the morning, you wake up in the Dawn Winery and Diluc's standing right in front of you, light blush on his cheeks, offering you a glass of water and pain meds and he sheepishly goes:

"I apologize. I'm not quite sure how to come home to you, so I hope you don't mind that I brought you to mine instead,"

power struggle | v.a

18+ mdni

switch!violet x switch!reader

contents/tw: angry sex, jealously, kissing, tribbing, check ins during sex🤭, strap-on, dirty talk, stanking, degrading, modern!vi??, handcuffs, name calling, praise.

an: stream of consciousness wrote this in a day. Hope you enjoy!!!

She pissed you off. Bad. Watching the trees passing by outside the window of the car you turned your back from her. Violet could feel the anger radiating off of you. Arms crossed and knee bouncing in an attempt to distract yourself. Her eyes flick from the windshield to you. She was trying to find something to say but you stop her when you make eye contact. Shooting her a dirty look.

“Don’t.” You huffed and look back out the window. “Honey I’m sorry I told you I didn’t know that’s what she was doing.” She tried to defend herself and she was being truthful but you couldn’t care right now.

“You’ll be real sorry when we get home.” Violet gripped the wheel tighter hearing your words. She’s be lying if she said she wasn’t excited. “Is that right?” Violet challenges you, your head whipping in her direction. You watch a small smirk spreads across her lips. She was making fun of you.

“You can do that shit with the girl from the bar not me.” You spit back at her sinking further in the seat starting to seeth. “If I knew she was flirting with me do you actually think i would’ve entertained her.” Violet tried consoling you but the fire was already lit.

“I don’t know Vi she seemed pretty entertained either way.” You thought back to how the girl oh so innocently bumped into your girlfriend and started talking to her like you weren’t even there.

“Oh cut the shit. You know I’d never do that.” Vi looks at you with annoyance. You don’t respond only shrugging which makes Violet increasingly more upset. Now here you are quiet in the car both silent and angry. When you finally get home Violet makes a show of going around the car and open your door huffing and puffing.

It was stupid really, but you still said “thank you” giving her the same attitude. The both of you quickly walk to the door, and as soon as it’s closed your pushing her up against it roughly kissing her. Vi obliges holding onto you just as roughly. You fumble trying to rip her jacket off and undo the buttons on her shirt. Your tongue dominating her mouth making her moan and pull at your hips.

You pull down her sports bra and pinch her hard bud between your fingers. She hisses at the stimulation. “You wanna fuck around and make other girls giggle like some whore?” Your tone was degrading and annoyed. Vi searched your eyes with hers, her lips parted and swollen and completely dazed. “How disappointing.” You say looking down at her breast as you toy with her meanly. Frustration bubbled in Vi’s chest at this “disappointing?”. She thought to herself were you being fucking serious.

She grabbed you by the back of the hair bringing you to look at her. “Maybe I fucking will seems like you get off on it sweet stuff.” Vi spit back at you as you look at her coldly. That was only half the truth and she could see it in your face. You liked feeling jealous it only made you want to claim her more. She lets out a low chuckle. Using the grip she has to pull you flush against her. “How slutty is that?” You wanna wipe the shit eating grin off of her face.

“Fuck you.” Now embarrassed you pinch her nipple harshly again, she twitches. She looks down at your hand and back at you her tongue running over her teeth. “Yeah fuck you too.” Vi attacks your mouth kissing you rougher than before letting out a growl. She scoops you up and walks you to your shared bedroom throwing you down on to the bed.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and furrow your brows. “Take that shit off.” You demand her nudging your head in her direction. She wasted no time to remove the rest of her clothes before pulling your top over your head and yanking down your pants. Vi hovers over your naked form going in to kiss your neck. You flip her over so she on her back and straddled her. Quickly grabbing both of her hands and pinning them above her head.

She lets out a struggled breath in surprise. You were quick but she could easily slip out of your grasp. But she’ll let you believe you have her just for now. “Babys upset isn’t she?” She tries agonizing you. Throwing a pout and bucking up her hips bouncing you to get a rise out of you. You grab her cheeks smooshing her lips together. “Babys fucking pissed.” You let go and smack her cheek softly. “I’m gonna use this pretty pussy and help you remember who you belong too.” You don’t talk to her like this very often so she absolutely gapping at you right now.

“Since your little slut brain seems to forget.” You let go of her wrist but she doesn’t move she just watches as you spread her legs apart and place yourself over her. You grind down at the slow pace pulling a whimper from her before speeding up and not giving her time to adjust. “Y-your so f-fucking ah- mean.” She’s straining to keep it together as you pound yourself into her, her abs flexing and chest heaving. Lewd noises fill her head. She tried to grab at your thigh and you smack her away.

“And who’s fault is that?” Violets looks at you like your crazy when you can’t help but let a smile slip. That same frustration she felt earlier clouded her senses again. She uses her strong arms to lift herself and restrain you. Slipping out from under you and pressing your face to the mattress. Grunting and whining in anger as she pulls both of your arms behind you. “Drop the fucking attitude. We both know you’re not winning this.” She leans over you her crotch pressed to your bottom. She was warning you, but you weren’t finished.

“What are you gonna fuck me like you wanted to do to that girl.” You struggled under her grip and she lands a hard smack to your cheek jolting you forwards. You let out a painful sob. “Ughh! Violet!” You screamed to her and she did it again. You stopped squirming trying to catch your breath instead. She places her hand next to your head leaning down again next to your ear. “Are we calmed down now?” All you do is huff in response and she rises laughing to herself in awe of how bratty you were being shaking her head.

When she starts rubbing the stinging skin getting ready to spank you again you speak up. “I’m calm!” You exasperated in a frustrated tone. “I’ll let you try that again sweetheart.” Vi wasn’t playing with you anymore. It takes you a second to actually calm yourself down to speak and Vis actively raising her hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m calm now. Please.” You pleaded with her speaking softly.

She puts her hand down and lets go of your wrist. She peppered kisses on the red raised skin sweetly. “Normally I’d feel bad but you deserved that.” She spoke to you between kisses finishing with a pinch to your thigh. You groaned at the pain. Violet maneuvered you into your back placing her hand under your head hold you, getting your full attention. “I’ll let you be on top anytime you want but if you ever talk shit like that again, I’ll make sure you know your place.” The stern look in her eyes had you captivated nodding and biting your lip.

“Do you understand.” She spoke slow clear caressing your cheek sweetly. You nod again. “No I want words.” It feels like your sinking into the bed her with the way her eyes are boaring into your soul. “Yes ma’am.” You said meekly only feeling a bit better when she drops the stern expression and kisses your forehead. She gets up and you watch her move around the room going to your shared drawer of toys and accessories.

She pulls out a pair of cuffs and you whimper. “Come on V-“ You try to negotiate but you were quickly cut off. “I’ll bend you over my knee. I know you hate these that’s why I got them.” She was being cold towards you and you probably did deserve it after what you said. But still not getting to touch her was cruel. You furrow your brows as she cuffs your arms to the head board. She looks at your annoyed face looking up at your restraints. Laughing softly, “Fix that face sweetheart.” she says casually as she yanks your legs apart and throws one over her shoulder.

Her large muscular thigh spread on top of you. She sinks down slowly her pace painfully slow. “God your so wet. Being a pain in my ass really gets you off huh?” She smiles mischievously her eyes half lidded and head tilted to the side. You wish you could take a picture. The way she was grinding into you her abs flex with each motion of her hips. Slow languid rolls of her hips. You pull on your restraints yearning to feel her.

She watched as you throw your head back in pleasure and close your eyes the smile on her face growing wider. She speeds up leaning back to get just the right angle where your clits are bumping each other. “Oh- ngh f-fuck.” Your lips part as you pant. “Yeah? Is that good brat? Like when I fuck you like a whore?” You want to reply to her but she somehow she speeds up her thrust even more. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head tits bouncing. “V-Violet!” Your legs shake as she keeps her brutal pace. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Her shit head comments don’t even stop when she’s out of breath clit twitching against yours.

“It’s t-too ah- much.” You mumble hips stuttering. “It’s ok baby you can- fuck, take it.” Vis words were sweet but her tone told you you were going to take it whether or not it kills you. The knot in your tummy was tightening at an alarming rate threatening to snap at any moment. Your breathing accelerates as it washes over you; letting out a high pitched moan. Vi was wasn’t done with you just yet instead abusing your poor overstimulated clit until she came too. Leaving you shaking and whimpering until she was finished mumbling to herself. “G-god I love this p-pussy.”

Violet falls to the side of you wiping sweat off her forehead. You lull your head exhausted closing your eyes. “I’m not finished with you.” Vi says not even looking at you at this point she’s walking to the drawer. Stopping to pick up a miscellaneous shirt to wipe the sweat off her chest and abs. You let out a sad whimper watching her pull out the strap and secure it to her hips. “Don’t worry I’m taking the cuffs off.” She smiles like she doing you a grand gesture. “Oh goody.” You reply to her half annoyed half relieved.

“I’m gonna let that slide.” Vi says with a smile on her face most likely pussy drunk and desperate to feel you anyway. She unlocks the cuffs letting your hands free. You grab her and hold her to you just laying like that for a beat she wraps her arms under you nuzzling your neck. “You okay?” She asks kissing up your neck. “I’m sorry I said that.” She stops, giggling at your words. “Did I knock some sense into you?” She kisses your cheek and continues.

“It’s not gonna happen again right?” She’s back on you her hands slipping from out under you her arms caging you in. She looks down at you her hair falling in front of her. “No it’s not.” You tell her honestly. “Good.” With that she’s kissing your neck again biting and licking over the skin. She moves to the side of you and pulls you onto your side. Grabbing your leg, she hikes it up and presses herself against your back.

You let out sweet noises from her kissing your neck gently holding her head. She teases you with the tip of the dildo dragging it along your slit. You hum feeling her line herself up. “This what you want pretty girl?” She speaks softly into your ear and you nod. She inserts herself slowly and you hiss slightly at the sting of being stretched open. Violet kisses your shoulder, “I know, I know.” She let’s you adjust before giving small thrusts.

Her lips are relentless as she kisses every square inch of she can reach. “My pretty girl.” She whispers into your neck giving an experimental harder thrust to see if your ready. You moan in response when she hits that gummy spot inside of you. She’s smiling into your skin keeping the pace. Pushing back on her she get excited. “Yeah that feel good?” She pulls your leg higher laying deeper inside you.

You watch her bicep flex as she holds you up. “R-really good.” Turning your head back you capture her lips with yours. She groans into the kiss her softer lips contrasting the deep quick thrust she’s pounding into you. Your orgasm builds slowly violet getting the tell tale sign of your legs shaking. It fills her with insurmountable pride every time. She pulls away from your lips and you groan at her pouting. “I just wanna watch sweetheart.” Violet says oh so innocently as she send you over the edge falling apart on her.

You twitch and whine vi observes you with a awestruck look on her face. Hips helping you through it. Once you’ve come down she’s stroking your hair and pulling out slowly. You wince from being so sensitive and she gets up to drop the harness to the floor before coming back to bed to scoop you up and cuddle you.

Your half awake at this point curled up on her chest. You listen to her heartbeat eye fluttering open and closed trying not to fall sleep. She lays with you quietly before speaking again. “Lets go take a bath.” She whispers lips pressed against your head. “Uh uh.” Mumbling back you nuzzle into her further. She’s going to carry to you the bath either way but she’ll let you rest for now.

Thank you for reading!!

Ex at New Year

violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: a second chance at love. a first chance at happiness. the love of your life is knocking at your door. do you let them in? — sequel to Ex at Christmas warnings/themes: fluff and angst, ex lovers, breakup, new years eve, pining lmao, a lot of flashbacks, slightly suggestive, everyone is alive and happy au, modern au, mentions of: smoking, drinking, vi is DOWN BAD! serenading you with a boombox in the rain? yes please words: 24.7k (hell yeah...?) notes: i swear this is so fking sappy man like a hallmark christmas movie or smth like that... forced myself to NOT pull a 'past lives' ending. nyways my friend told me to listen to "ocean's & engines" just to write an angst so yeah...

The walk to your apartment is a quiet one, neither of you speaking a word. You're both lost in your own thoughts, the only sound being the soft scraping of your shoes on the sidewalk. Finally, you reach your apartment building. You stop in front of the door—the same door she slammed shut and left you behind three months ago.

Your hand automatically reaches for your keys, but your fingers linger, not yet grabbing them.

“So, this is it, huh?”

You nod, your eyes still trained on the door in front of you. “Yeah.”

There's a pause. A long pause before Vi speaks again, “Good night.”

This sucks.

“Good night,” you murmur.

She hesitates, like she wants to say something more. But she doesn't. With a nod, she turns and starts walking away.

You swallow the lump in your throat, finally reaching into your pocket and grabbing your keys. You put the key in the lock and twist the doorknob. The door opens with a soft click, and you're face to face with your lonely apartment. It's dark inside, save for the light that comes in through the window. You step inside, shutting the door behind you.

You take off your shoes, kicking them off to the side. You drag yourself over to your bed, slumping down against the footboard. Your hand fishes into your pocket, pulling out your phone.

Scrolling through your phone, you notice a notification from your mother, sent an hour ago. “How's Vander's Christmas party?” it reads.

You sigh, not really wanting to respond. It's already 1am, but you decide to give your mother a call anyway. After a few rings, she picks up.

“Hello?” her voice rings through the speaker. You can hear the faint noise of a TV in the background.

“Still up watching your favorite show?” 

“You know me,” she replies. “Your father is asleep already,” she pauses before asking, “You're going to come over today, right? I'll cook your favorite dish. You better.”

“Yes, I won't miss it,” your fingers playing absently with a loose thread on your sheets.

She hums on the other side of the line. “How was Christmas Eve at Vander's, by the way?”

You shrug, even though she can't see you. “It was pretty good,” you answer. “Food was good. Mylo and Powder are rowdy as always.”

“Oh, I could imagine,” your mother chuckles. “What about-” suddenly she stops, cutting herself off. “How was... how was Vi?”

You hesitate before answering. “She was... fine.”

There's a long pause, the sound of the TV filling the silence. Finally, she speaks. “And how was it, seeing her again?”

You exhale, staring up at the ceiling. “It was fine,” you say again. “It was just... fine.”

She hums, hearing the lie in your tone. But she doesn't push, not this time. “I see…”

After a moment of silence, you ask, “Mom, can I ask you something?”

Your mother pauses. She senses the seriousness in your tone. “Of course, sweetheart,” she says, the TV shutting off in the background.

You swallow, fiddling with the loose thread on your sheets again. “Hypothetically speaking…” you start. “If an ex asked for another chance... would you give them one? I mean, despite everything that's happened.”

There's a deep breath from the other side of the line, followed by a thoughtful hum. “Hypothetically speaking…” she echoes. “I suppose it would depend on why the relationship ended in the first place.”

“But let's say... hypothetically speaking…” you pause. This is going to sound ridiculous. “You have no idea why they walked away. They just... left, and then they turned up a couple months later, asking for another chance. Would you still let them in?”

Your mom takes a moment to answer. “Hypothetically speaking…” she finally replies. “I think if someone wanted another chance, the least you could do is hear them out. Find out the reason they walked away in the first place.”

“But... isn't that just asking for heartbreak all over again?”

“Not necessarily,” your mom says. “Maybe they finally realized how much they still... care for you.”

You close your eyes, pressing your knuckles against them. “But what if... what if they leave again? what if they change their mind?”

“I suppose that's a risk you'd have to be willing to take.”

“I don't know if I can go through something like that again.”

“Listen, honey,” you can almost hear her shaking her head. “If you don't try... how will you know?”

“I just... don't want to get hurt again,” you say, your voice quivering.

Your mother sighs. “Sometimes taking risks is worth it.” She's quiet for a moment before continuing, “Sometimes people make mistakes. They leave, they come back, they leave again, they come back again... but that's what happens when it comes to love. It's messy, complicated, and sometimes it hurts like hell, but it's also the most beautiful and powerful thing in the world.”

You chew on your lip. “I'm so scared, mom,” you admit. “I don't really know what to do.”

There's another pause, then her voice softens. “Remember when you were six, and you wouldn't go on the big slide at the park?”

You frown, her sudden question confusing you. “Yeah?”

“Remember what I told you?”

Thinking back, you recall the memory. Young you, clutching your mom's hand as the other kids swarmed the slide. You were shaking, too scared you'd fall. Her voice drifts through your memory. “I told you that sometimes it's okay to be scared, but you won't know if you like something if you don't try.”

“Besides,” she had said with a smile. “I'll be right here to catch you if you fall.”

You remember how you nodded then, letting go of her hand and slowly making your way up. You're trembling as you stand at the top of the slide, preparing yourself to go.

Your mother's gentle smile, her encouraging words. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart. Everything will be okay.”

Before you knew it, you were off. You were flying, wind in your hair, laughter bursting from your lips. By the time you reached the bottom, any fear you had was replaced with pure happiness.

True to her word, your mom was there to catch you at the end.

“You loved the slide after that,” she chuckles. “You went down it countless times, right until we had to go home, and I'll tell you now…” Her voice turns serious again. “Even if you're scared and you fall, I'll be right here to catch you, okay?”

“I…” You can feel yourself starting to tear up. “Okay,” you whisper, swallowing back the lump in your throat.

She gives a hum, and you can almost see her nodding. “There's my brave girl,” your mom says, a smile in her voice. “Get some rest, and we'll talk more in the morning, alright?”

“Yeah... okay.” you take a shaky breath. “Thanks, mom. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you. Don't stay up too late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you smile, though it fades quickly. “Love you too.”

You hang up, setting your phone down on the bedside table. You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face. You push yourself from the footboard and make your way to your bed. Crawling onto your stomach, you bury your face deep into your pillow and groan.

Taking risks, giving second chances, hoping for the best, fearing the worst...

You just wish you could shut it all off and just sleep.

—

3 MONTHS BEFORE CHRISTMAS, THE BREAKUP

You sat at the kitchen table, picking at your dinner halfheartedly. You glanced up at Vi, who sat across from you. Her plate of food hardly touched. She's avoiding your gaze. She's just right in front of you, and yet she feels as if she's millions of miles away.

“We need to talk about what's going on with us.”

Vi didn't even bother to look at you. She continues to push her food around her plate.

You slammed your hand down on the table, a loud clang breaking the quiet room. “Don't ignore me.”

That got her looking up to you. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“You know damn well what I want to talk about,” you snap, “this. this." you gesture between you and her.

Vi stands up suddenly, pushing her plate away from her. “I'm tired,” she mutters, avoiding your gaze. 

“Tired of what?” you stand up as well, eyes narrowing. “Tired of this, of us?”

Vi sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Can we not talk about this?’ she says. “I'm just... I'm not in the mood right now, okay?”

It has become a familiar habit. Every time you tried to address the issue, to have a serious conversation about the state of your relationship, Vi would shut down. She would do everything in her power to avoid facing the problem.

You throw your hands up, exasperated. “You've said that every time I try to talk, 'I'm not in the mood', 'Let's talk later', 'Can this wait?'” you mimic her voice. “If we're not gonna talk about this, then when?”

“I don't feel like talking right now!”

“That's the thing! there's never a time that you feel like talking. You always have an excuse, or you brush it off like it's nothing, like our relationship is nothing.”

“That's not true!” Vi snaps back, clenching her jaw. “I care about you and this relationship.”

“Then why do you keep shutting me out?” you interrupt. “You refuse to talk, you distance yourself from me, you dodge every attempt I make to connect. You're pushing me away every chance you get.”

“Jesus Christ, I'm not pushing you away,” Vi says. “I just need some space sometimes, I need to think.” Her tone softens, expression shifting from irritation to something closer to pleading. “Can you give me that at least? just some time to myself to process things.”

“Time to process things,” you repeat. “What things, Vi? see? this is what I'm talking about. You keep everything bottled up, and you never talk to me about it. I can't read your mind, and I can't fix what I don't know. I'm your girlfriend, and yet you treat me like some stranger.”

“What do you want me to say?!” Vi explodes, her voice echoing in the kitchen. “You want me to just pour out my heart and soul to you? spill all my problems and insecurities like some open book? is that what you want?!”

“Yes!” you snap, voice just as loud as hers. “I want you to talk to me! I want you to trust me enough to share what's going on in that head of yours! I can't keep going on like this, walking on eggshells, never knowing if I'm going to say or do something that's gonna piss you off.”

“Maybe I don't want to talk to you all the time,” Vi says. “Maybe I don't want to burden you with all my crap all the time. Maybe I just want some time to myself to deal with it on my own.”

“Of course you don't.” It’s sarcasm, pure and simple. “You're Vi, too tough for feelings and emotions. God forbid you show some weakness. You're so tough and strong and independent, you can handle everything on your own.” “This is why I don't talk to you,” Vi exclaims. “Because I know you'll turn it around on me, you'll make it out like I'm the one that needs fixing. You're so quick to assume the worst in me, to assume that I'm the problem. Have you ever considered that maybe—just maybe—you're the one who's being too clingy, too needy, too-”

“Too what?” you interrupt. “Say it, Vi. I'm too clingy? too needy? go on, get it out. You've wanted to say it for a while—so say it.”

“You're too much!” Vi blurts out. 

“Too much,” you repeat. “I'm too much.” It came out like a scoff. “I'm too much for trying to get you to open up? I'm too much for trying to save this damn relationship? I'm too much for wanting you to fucking talk to me?! I'm just trying to have a damn conversation, but apparently that's too much for you to handle.”

“Yeah, because everything you're saying is bullshit,” Vi retorts. “All you ever do is criticize me and bring up the same crap over and over again. You don't actually want to fix anything. You just want to complain about how I'm not living up to your perfect vision of a partner.”

“Oh my god,” you rub your temples. “My perfect vision of a partner? really? really? I'm not asking for the damn stars and moon. I'm asking for the bare minimum. I'm asking for basic communication. I'm asking for emotional connection. How's that a perfect vision'? How's that being too needy?”

“I wouldn't have to keep bringing up the same crap if you would just talk to me. I wouldn't have to repeat myself. We wouldn't be having this same damn fight again and again if you would just-” you stop yourself, taking a breath. “You know what? no. I'm done. I'm done with this. I'm done with trying to pull teeth, to drag anything meaningful out of you.”

You pace back and forth. “I've been trying to be a good girlfriend. I've given you space, I've been patient. I've listened, I've supported, and I've tried to give you what you needed. But it's never enough, is it? it's always about your space, your needs, your feelings. But what about mine? what about what I need? or does that not matter, because I'm just the clingy, needy girlfriend?”

“Well, screw that!” you continue. “Screw the fact that this whole thing has been tearing me apart from the inside out. Screw the fact that I'm miserable because I'm not even sure if you still love me. Screw the fact that I've been crying every damn night, wondering what I did to mess us up this badly.” You want to scream, to throw something, to run until your lungs burn. “Screw the fact that I can't even sleep at night because all I can think about is our fights. I can't even focus on work because all I can think about is what's going on between us.” 

You pause, choking on the lump in your throat. “But I guess you don't care about any of that, huh? because I'm just the needy one? I'm just the emotional one, the one who's too goddamn sensitive.” You press your palms against your eyes, fighting to keep the tears from falling. “I'm sick of this. I'm sick of feeling like I'm in this relationship all on my own. I'm sick of feeling like you'd be happier if I wasn't even here. I'm sick of feeling worthless.”

The tears start to fall. You wipe furiously at your face, but it was no use. They were quickly replaced with new ones. “I just want you to want me.” You choke back a sob. “I want you to want to share things with me. I want you to want to open up. I don't want to have to drag things out of you. I don't want to have to beg for your love and attention.”

“I'm so damn tired of feeling like I'm not good enough for you.” You wrap your arms around yourself, hugging yourself tight. “Or maybe…” you say, hiccupping in between sobs. “Maybe I'm just not good enough at all. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I'm the reason you can't open up, can't bear to let me get close, and maybe—maybe I'm the problem.”

“I just…” you begin, and your voice shakes so much, it's hard to get the words out. “I just want to be enough.”

“I want you to see me,” you continue, hugging yourself tight. Your nails are digging into the flesh of your arms. Anything to keep yourself from falling apart. “I just want you to see that I can be what you need, that I'm enough for you, but no matter what I do, it's not enough. I'm not enough for you. I'm… I will never be enough.” 

You drop your hands to your sides, clenching them into tight fists to stop yourself from reaching for her. You're trying so hard to hold yourself together, but it's not working. You're breaking, you're shattering, you're crying so hard you can barely speak.

“Maybe we shouldn't be together.”

Your stomach dropped to your feet. You don't think she'll go there, but here she is, talking about breaking up.

“What?” you force out, voice cracking. “Is that what you want?”

“I don't know,” she says, still not looking at you. “You need someone who can give you what you need, someone who's not so broken and messed up and damaged-” she clenched her jaw tightly, hating every word that left her mouth. “You'll find someone better. I know you will.”

Everything started to spin. You couldn't breathe. You feel like you were spiraling, grasping at straws, doing anything to reach her, to connect with her. This was happening, it was really happening—you were losing her. 

“You're serious,” you whisper. “You really want to break up.”

A part of you had been holding on to the hope that she'd change her mind, that she'd take back what she said. that this is some sort of prank and for her to burst out laughing and say 'gotcha!'.

but with each second of silence that passed, that hope was slowly dying.

You try to steady your voice to keep control. “If that's what you really want, then fine. Break up with me. Leave. Go be happy without me.”

“Okay.” And just like that, the fragile string that had been holding everything together snapped.

Vi walks to the door, her movements so slow. It's like she's in a trance, or maybe you are, because time seemed to slow down. This couldn't be happening. Please, tell me this is just a bad dream. But it isn't. It is real. It is happening.

You couldn't let her go like this. You couldn't let her walk out the door and out of your life without a fight. You had to stop her, you had to, you had to—

Your hand lasts out, grabbing her arm. “Please,” you beg. “Don't do this. We can talk, we can figure it out.”

Her hand paused, hovering over the door. She couldn't bring herself to turn around and face you.

“Don't... please,” you plead. “Don't just throw this away. We can work through this, we can fix it. We just need to talk.”

You're not above begging, not if it meant keeping her from walking out that door. You had pride once, but it has shattered into pieces. Now you are just a trembling, broken mess, desperate to keep her with you.

You desperately want her to turn around and look at you. To see that this wasn't what you wanted, that you didn't want things to end like this. “Violet, please,” you repeat. “I love you. I love you, please don't—please don't leave me.”

“There's nothing left to talk about,” she says. “There's nothing to fix. We're over. Done.”

All the hope, all the love, all the dreams you'd had together—it was all falling apart in front of you. Because Vi, the woman you were sworn to spend the rest of your life with, is walking out that damn door, leaving you alone in the silence of the apartment.

This can't be real. It has to be a nightmare. You will wake up, and she'll be there beside you, holding you like she always did.

You found yourself looking around, half expecting to see her sitting on the couch or coming out of the kitchen. But she's not there. She's not here.

Tears start to well up in your eyes. You stumble back until you hit a wall and slide down to the floor. Your hands came up to your face, trying to hold yourself together. You can't stop the tears or the sobs that wracked your body. You can't stop wishing she’s still here with you, in your arms, where she belonged.

You clutch at the thin fabric of your shirt. It hurts, everything hurts. Your head, your chest, your heart. You can't remember ever feeling like this. You can't remember ever feeling so alone and broken. You curl up on the floor, your whole body shaking, your tears leaving dark spots on the hardwood floor.

Every memory you had of you and Vi flashes through your mind. Your first date, your first kiss, your first time. All the happy memories, the laughter, the love.

But all of it was tainted now, stained by the knowledge that it is over.

You thought you knew pain before, but this... this is a new level of hell.

—

2 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

“You fucked up.”

“Thanks, Powder. Real insightful,” Vi mutters, rubbing her forehead. She's sitting in an armchair, surrounded by her family.

Claggor shifts in his seat, Mylo just rolls his eyes, and Silco and Vander exchange a glance.

“Hey, come on. Don't be so hard on Vi,” Claggor says, eyebrows furrowing.

Mylo snorts. “Yeah, she's already down after ending her four-year relationship. No need to pile on.”

Powder just shrugs. “I'm just saying what we're all thinking.”

Caggor sighs. “Let's just... drop the topic of the breakup, alright? it's in the past. There's nothing we can do about it now.”

Vander nods, a pensive look on his face. Mylo slouches back against the couch. “What's the point of us all sitting here bitching about it? it's not gonna change anything.”

Powder huffs. “I still think Vi should've handled it differently.”

“And I still think you should mind your own damn business,” Vi mutters, glaring at Powder.

Claggor glances at Silco and Vander, silently pleading with them to step in before it becomes an all-out argument. but neither of them say anything.

“What would you have done differently?” Powder snaps. 

Mylo leans forward in his seat. “This should be good.”

Claggor just rubs at his temples. This is going to turn into a shouting match.

Vander leans his elbows on his knees, sighing. “Alright, let's all just calm down-”

“We are calm,” both Vi and Powder say at the same time. They both glance at each other, and Vi frowns.

“Oh yeah, sure, real calm.” Vi scoffs.

Vander rubs his face. “Can we all just chill-”

“No!” Powder snaps. “I'm not gonna chill! Vi just-”

Mylo grins. “This is great. It's like a soap opera.”

Claggor pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you both stop arguing?”

Powder is glaring defiantly at Vi. “No, I'm not going to stop. You need to listen-”

“Oh, I need to listen? you're the one-”

Vander cuts them off. “Both of you, shut your damn mouths!”

The room falls silent. Everyone looks at Vander. Powder huffs, slouching back on the couch. Silco gives Vander a nod of appreciation.

Claggor looks relieved the arguing is over... for now, anyway. Mylo is visibly disappointed. “Man, I was just about to get the popcorn.”

Vander glances around the room, his gaze coming to rest on Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. “You three, get out.”

“Hey!” Powder protests.

Mylo grumbles, “Why do we-”

Vander raises a hand, cutting Mylo off. “No arguing. Get out. Now.”

Powder grumbles, shooting a glare in Vi's direction before storming out of the room. Claggor and Mylo follow, both of them looking slightly offended. The room falls silent once the door shuts behind Claggor.

Silco sits quietly, his hands folded in his lap. Vi looks at him for a moment before shifting her glare to the carpet.

Vander sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Christ,” he mutters. He looks tired, which is understandable. “Now, can we have an actual civil conversation this time?” No one says anything, so Vander takes that as a yes. He glances at Silco, a silent question in his eyes. Silco looks at Vi for a moment before turning to Vander and giving a slight nod. Vander sighs, sitting back in his armchair. “Alright, I'm just going to say it. Why didn't you tell us?”

Vi glances up, her eyes meeting Vander's. There's a pause before she speaks. “Because,” she starts. “I...I didn't want to deal with all this bullshit,” she gestures around the room. “I knew you'd all react this way, and…” she trails off, rubbing at her face.

Silco chuckles. “You thought you could just avoid dealing with it?”

Vander shoots him a glare.

Vi sighs, sinking into the armchair. “Look, I know I should have told you all sooner, alright? but I was-”

“Being a coward?”

She clenches her jaw, and she snaps, “I wasn't being a coward. I was just…”

“Stalling,” Silco adds, raising his eyebrows.

“Fine. I was stalling. Are you happy now? i didn't want to deal with the questions, or the pity, or the-”

“You didn't want to deal with the support?” Vander interrupts,

Vi looks at the carpet, her hands clenching into fists. “I don't need the support, okay? I'm doing fine on my own.”

Silco snorts. “Clearly you were really fine.”

Vander shakes his head. “Vi, we're a family. You should have come to us-”

Vi snaps, standing up. “And what could you have done, huh? would you have fixed my relationship? found me someone new?”

Vander opens his mouth to respond but closes it.

Vi throws her hands up. “Exactly. Nothing. I didn't tell you all because it'd be pointless. Because it's just a breakup. It's over. There's nothing you can do about it. It's in the past, so why does it-”

Vander cuts her off. “Why does it matter? is that what you were about to say?”

Vi's shoulders sag, and she nods.

Vander stands up as well and stares her down. “It matters because—because we care. Because you shut us out, because you made us think you were fine, when you were not.”

Vi scowls, her arms crossing over her chest. “Why does it matter? why do you all care so damn much?”

“Maybe because you've been moping around for a month,” Silco says. 

Vi looks around the room. “So, wait a minute, you knew?”

“'Course we knew. You think you're good at hiding things?” Silco raises an eyebrow. 

Vander sighs, ignoring Silco's comment. “We just don't want to push you.”

“Well, that explains it.” Vi glares at them both. "That explains why you invited her here."

Vander and Silco exchange a glance. “Vander and I... we both knew your little play,” Silco scoffs, lounging in his chair. 

Vi's eyes widen in disbelief. “What?”

“We just wanted to see how long you'd keep this up.”

Vi is stunned, her arms falling to her sides. “You all just... let me make a fool of myself?”

“You were doing that on your own,” Silco adds.

Vi sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I...it's for the sake of appearances, okay?” she scowls, hating that she has to even explain herself. “Because I didn't want all this bullshit over the holidays. It's Christmas. I didn't want to ruin Christmas for everyone.”

Silco stands up from his chair. “You were worried about us? you had to fake a relationship just to keep us happy?” he shakes his head. “What are we, children?”

Vi frowns. “That's not-”

Vander raises a hand, cutting her off. “No, Silco's right. You do treat us like children.”

Silco scoffs. “You always act like you're responsible for everyone, that you have to keep us all happy. When are you going to realize that we're adults? We can handle things ourselves. You don't have to fake a damn relationship just to make us happy.”

Vander sighs. “You think we can't handle knowing about your breakup? that we'll break if things aren't perfect?”

Silco walks around, sliding a hand through his hair. “You act like everything's your fault, like you're responsible for all of us. When are you going to stop acting like a damn martyr?”

Vi says nothing, just clenches her jaw.

“You do this all the time, hiding when you're not okay, pretending that you're fine. Do you even realize how much damage you're doing to yourself?”

Vander nods, stepping forward to look Vi in the eye. “You're driving yourself crazy. You need to learn to let us take care of you for once.” He gently squeezes her bicep. “You need to stop trying to protect everyone. Start worrying about yourself for once.”

“I just didn't want to burden anyone,” Vi whispers.

“Stop acting like you're a burden. You're not a burden, Vi. We care about you. We want to help you.” Silco lets out a huff, “We're family. You should be depending on us. You can lean on us occasionally without the world falling apart.”

Vander gently squeezes Vi's shoulder. “We'll do anything for you, darling, but you gotta let us help you sometimes.”

Vi closes her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She hates crying in front of them, hates letting them see her like this.

Silco sighs, leaning over to gently dab the tear away with his thumb. “Stop being so damn stubborn, girl. You don't have to handle things on your own.”

Vander gently kisses the top of her head. “You're not alone, Vi. We're here for you. Always.”

Vi sniffs, blinking to stop the tears from continuing.

Vander pulls her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her. “You're not making us miserable, okay? you don't gotta be perfect. Just be you. You're enough for us, kid.”

Vi nods, burying her face in Vander's chest. Silco rubs her back. Vander pulls back from the hug, holding Vi by the shoulders. “Now, we've talked about you,” he says. “What's going on between you and your girl?”

“We talked,” she mumbles. “I asked her to...give me another chance. To fix things…”

Vander and Silco share a look, a smirk on Silco's face. Vander clears his throat. “And what did she say?”

“She said...she'll think about it.”

Vander nods, while Silco's smirk widens. “Is that so?” he hums. “You finally grew some balls and asked her.”

Vi shoots Silco a glare. “You don't know a damn thing,” she grumbles, her cheeks burning.

“It's a step in the right direction, regardless.” Vander pats Vi on the back. “If she says she'll think about it, then she's considering it.”

“And if they say yes…” Silco says, then he glances at Vander, the two sharing a chuckle.

Vander pats Vi on the back again. “Then you'll get your girl back.” He pokes her cheek. “So, don't give up. Don't lose hope.”

Silco grins, “We just have to wait.”

“Waiting.”

“Which you're not so great with,” Silco snorts. “Anyway, if she says yes, remember to thank us.”

“You guys didn't do anything.” 

Vander and Silco share a smirk, the same thought clearly going through their minds.

Vander grins. “We didn't do anything at all.”

Silco nods. “Absolutely nothing.”

—

1 MONTH BEFORE THE BREAK UP, MARRIAGE

You're lying your head on Vi's lap, enjoying the feeling of her fingers running through your hair. You look up at her, watching her face as you speak, “Hey Vi?”

She pauses, her fingers falling still for a moment. She looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. “What's up?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” she says, her hands resuming at running through your hair.

“Have you ever thought about marriage?”

Her fingers stills, just a tiny flinch that she quickly tried to hide. But you noticed.  “Not much.” Vi shrugs. “What about you?”

You can hear the way her heart is thudding, how her words sound so strained. You reach up and take one of her hands, gently running your fingers across the back of it. You see her reaction. The way her eyes widen and her jaw is tense. It's not hard not to notice—you're literally lying on her lap, looking up at her. The topic of marriage suddenly came up out of nowhere.

“I've been thinking about it a lot, actually... marriage, I mean.”

“Marriage, huh?”

“Yeah..”

You're mentally freaking out. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can feel how your stomach is doing backflips. You want to desperately know what she's thinking. Are you freaking her out? what is going on in her head? is she disgusted at the thought of marrying you?

“Is that so?”

She is trying so damn hard to sound unphased, but you know her too well. You know her body language, the way her ears go slightly red when she is flustered, how tense her muscles become when she is nervous. 

“Just wondering what it'd be like, I guess,” you continue. You shift on your spot. The feeling of her fingers running through your hair is pleasant, but it is so hard to focus on that feeling when your stomach is flipping over itself every few seconds. “I'm just curious,” you add. “I can't help picturing it and wondering what it'd be like to marry you someday.”

Vi is silent for a moment, her fingers stopping in your hair. She licks her lips, trying to come up with a response. “Marriage,” she says again. “That's uhh…” she swallows, trying to compose herself. She starts playing with your hair again, trying to give her hands something to do to hide the way they are shaking. “It's a big deal.” She pauses. “Why—why are you even thinking about that stuff? we're too young.”

The only sound you can hear is the thump of your heart in your ears. You can feel yourself start to feel nauseous. This is the conversation you wanted to have, but now that it is actually happening, you wish you could take it all back.

“I mean.. I'm not saying I actually wanna get married right now.” This is not going well. It is not going well at all. But you continue, trying to make yourself seem uninterested. “It's just a thought... just a daydream, really. We're way too young for that kinda stuff.”

You're hoping that by downplaying it, calling it some silly fantasy, you would ease the tension in Vi's body. That maybe she will just laugh it off, make a joke about how you are an idiot. “Yeah, right, getting married to me?” she'll say, her cocky smirk on her lips, her shoulders slumping with relief.

But she didn't. She didn't brush it off. She didn't make a joke. Instead, the room is so silent.

Vi's fingers continue to run through your hair, but they are trembling, their pace a little slower than before. She's not saying anything, and that is making you even more nervous.

You don't know what to do, so you try to make another joke. “Can you imagine it?” you force out a laugh. “You and me getting married. Ridiculous, right?”

Then again, she didn't laugh. The corner of her lip curls up into a sort of half-smirk, but it looks like it's forced. Her eyes dart to the side, a clear sign she is distracted by her thoughts. She swallows, her hands still nervously fidgeting with your hair. What is going on in her mind? why is she so quiet? The longer the silence drags on, the more anxious you become. You want to reach up and shake her to snap her out of it. 

But you didn't, of course. “It will be a disaster.” You force out another laugh, hoping that she will finally talk. “Can you imagine going down the aisle in a wedding dress?” you continue. “Me, dragging you up to the altar so we can say our vows and exchange rings.”

The smile on your face is strained. Please say something, Vi.

“You will probably wear some suit that doesn't even fit you right,” you continue, the words pouring out of your mouth faster now that the panic is setting in. “You'll trip as you walk down the aisle and then fall on your ass during the first dance.” You want her to smile, to laugh, something. Anything that will give you an indication that your marriage joke hasn't gone completely wrong. But Vi is still so damn quiet.

“Then, when we finally get home for our ‘wedding night,’ you'll just…” You cut yourself off, realizing that you are about to make a dirty joke. Not the time. “Just—you will probably fall asleep immediately, right?” You sound like an idiot right now. “Then what will we do? It'll be like, our honeymoon or something, and you'll be snoring and-”

Shut up, your mind hiss. It's like you can't stop yourself from rambling like an idiot. You are starting to sweat.

“Stop talking.”

The tone of her voice made your heart skip a beat. She sounds anxious... or scared... what is going on in her head right now? is the conversation making her as nervous as it is to you?

Vi suddenly pulls her hand away from your hair, sitting up. You sit up as well to look at her. 

“I'm getting hungry.”

It's clear that she doesn't want to talk about marriage, at least for now. The conversation made her feel uncomfortable... but you don't know why. Is she really that opposed to the idea of marrying you? or is she just flustered by the thought of a future with you?

You try to push those thoughts away, try to dismiss them, and act like the whole conversation didn't just happen. Vi is already changing the subject, so you went along with it, putting your usual 'casual' tone back on.

“You're always hungry,” you tease, forcing a smile to spread on your lips. “I swear, you eat more than a goddamn goliath.”

“I don't eat more than a goliath,” Vi protests. “I just have a big appetite.” Her eyes still weren't quite meeting yours. Why wouldn't she look at you?

“And besides,” she adds. “It's not my fault I need a lot of energy to kick so much ass on a daily basis,” she flexed her arms. “Got to keep these biceps strong somehow, right princess?”

“Your biceps aren't that impressive.”

Blatant lie, you both knew it. Vi's stupid strong, not to mention she's absolutely ripped. She can probably bench press a goddamn elephant. She doesn't even have to respond. Her smirk tells you that she knows damn well she can destroy you in a wrestling match.

“Oh yeah? don't think my biceps are that impressive, huh?” she teases, flexing again. “How about I throw you over my shoulder right now, then? carry you around like a goddamn princess. Then you'll see just how impressive they are.”

“Oh, you wo-,” you begin, but before you can finish your sentence, Vi suddenly lurches forward. She scoops you up, hoisting you effortlessly onto her shoulder. You let out a strangled gasp, your hands immediately grabbing onto the back of her tank top. “This isn't fair!” Your voice comes out as more of a squeak. How does she make it look so easy to carry your heavy ass around like a sack of potatoes?

“What was that about my biceps not being impressive, princess?” she taunts. She carries you around. You're like a goddamn ragdoll in her grip, not that you're complaining...

“I have to admit,” you grumble. “I kind of like this view.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. Shit. 

Vi's smirk widens. “Oh really?” she drawls. “You like the view? then I'll be sure to give you a better one.” With that, she kicks open the bedroom door and carries you inside.

—

2 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

Vi fidgets nervously outside Powder's room. She takes a deep breath and finally knocks. “Powder?” she calls out.

What if Powder doesn't want to even talk to her? She screwed up. Who's to say Powder won't be pissed at her?! Just as Vi's starting to think about backing out, the door creaks open. There, powder stands before her.

“Can I come in?”

Powder hesitates, studying her sister for a moment. Finally, she steps aside and opens the door wider. “Come on in.”

Vi sighs in relief, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. Powder sits down on her bed, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She doesn't make eye contact. Vi shifts on her feet, standing in the middle of the room. She clears her throat. “So... can we talk?”

Powder hums in response. She slowly moves to sit down beside Powder. She's close, but not too close. “Thought you and…” she mumbles, “are still together.”

Vi shrugs. “The thing we did on Christmas was just for appearance. Dumb decision, really.”

Powder keeps her gaze on her lap, picking at a loose string on her sleeve. “Breakup must've been hard, huh?”

“That's one way to put it.”

“It was your decision, wasn't it?”

“Yeah... I was the one who broke things off.”

Powder nods, still picking absently at the string. Vi fidgets with a strand of her hair as she tries to think of what to say. But Powder beats her to the punch. “Can I ask... why?”

Vi sucks in a sharp breath. She's not sure how to answer that… how can she explain how stupid and scared she felt? how she pushes you away as a result? She wants to just give some bullshit answer, but there's something in the set of Powder's jaw that stops her. Powder deserves some form of honesty.

“It's complicated…”

Powder looks up at her. “Complicated, how?” she asks. “Did she hurt you...?”

“No, no. She'll never hurt me. Nothing like that.”

Powder nods.

“It's just... she's good. She's too good for me, Powder. She's always been too good for me.”

“You sound like an idiot.”

Vi huffs. “Hey-”

“You are an idiot if you really think she's 'too good for you.'”

Vi sighs, slouching forward.

Powder continues. “She stayed by your side for four years. She put up with so much of your bullshit, and she still loved you throughout it all. What the hell makes you think you're not good enough for them? seriously, why do you always do that? why do you always have this dumb idea that you're not worth it?”

Vi looks down at her lap. “She's kind, and smart, and beautiful, and strong...and you've seen her. She's gorgeous, Powder... and then there's me.”

“Don't give me that crap, sis. You're just as strong, if not stronger, and you're definitely not bad to look at. So that's not the real reason, is it?”

Vi bites her lip. Okay, powder definitely has a point. But she can't exactly tell Powder the full truth. But there's no way Powder will believe any more of her bullshit excuses.

Powder looks at her. “Stop trying to lie and bullshit. The truth. Why did you push her away? just tell me the truth.”

“I was scared, okay? I was scared that maybe I wasn't good enough for her, or that maybe she'll wake up one day and realize she can be with someone much better than me, or that she'll get sick of my bullshit-” She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I'm just so scared, Powder. I'm scared of being a burden, of not being able to keep her happy, of not being good enough, and it just keeps getting worse, and I feel all this pressure building up, and I panicked. So I did what I usually do, and I ran. I pushed them away, just like I always do.”

“You're a coward, Vi,” Powders says again. “A complete coward. You're so afraid of screwing things up that you end up screwing things up anyway!”

Vi winces at that.

“I watched the two of you for four years. I saw how you two were together. What you had was real, and you threw it away because you couldn't get it through your thick skull that she really does want you?”

Vi feels her stomach twist. “It's... it's not that I don't believe she wants me. I know she does, but I just... I-”

“No 'but' here, Vi! Seriously, you're so damn frustrating.”

“It's hard!” Vi says, frustrated. “I feel like I can't be what they need. I'm a mess. I'm always so angry and on edge, and I get into fights, and I've got so much damn baggage. Why would they want to deal with that when they can be with someone stable and normal?”

“Holy shit, you're such a dumbass. Do you think that she is some perfect person? She has her own issues, her own problems. Nobody is perfect, and she knew that. She knew your flaws, she knew what your life was like, she knew everything, and yet she still chose to be with you for four years. Doesn't that tell you anything?!”

Vi swallows. When Powder puts it like that, it does make her feel stupid. She swallows again, looking up at her sister. “I know it probably doesn't mean much now, but... I really do love her. She's all I've thought about...I miss her so much…”

“'Course you do. Because you just did the dumbest thing you could have done. You let the love of your life slip through your fingers because you were just too damn stupid to see what you had right in front of you.”

“I know, I.. I don't know what possessed me to think she'd be better off without me.”

Powder raises an eyebrow. “Your own insecurities? your lack of self-worth? just a guess.”

“Shut it, powder,” Vi grumbles.

“Hey, don't get pissy with me. You're the one who messed up, not me,” Powder quips. “But anyway, I've heard enough of your stupid whining,” she huffs. “I'm not going to just sit here and let you drown in your self-pity. What the hell am I being the mature one in this situation for?”

“I hate it when you're right.” 

Powder snorts and grins. “Then you must hate being around me all the time, since I'm always right.”

Vi rolls her eyes and shoves her. “'kay smartass.”

“I just want you to be happy, sis.”

“I am happy,” Vi mutters.

“You're only saying that to shut me up.” Vi tries to protest, but Powder holds up one finger, cutting her off. “I know you. I know when you're bullshitting.”

“What are you, a mind reader now?”

“Pretty much,” Powder replies.

Vi rolls her eyes, shoving powder again. “Oh, shut up,” she pauses, then looks at her sister warmly. “I love you, Pow… and thank you. You don't sugarcoat, do you?”

Powder smiles, bumping her shoulder against Vi's. “I love you too. You're a pain in my ass, but I love you. Just...promise me something.”

“What?” she asks.

“Promise me you'll be more honest about your feelings. And I don't just mean with me, I mean in general. Stop keeping it all bunched up in here.” Powder taps Vi's chest with one finger. “Don't just throw something good away because you're scared it'll end eventually anyway. If you love her as much as you say you do, then you have to make up for what a dumbass you were and... at least try to make it work. Because she's... she's special, Vi.”

Vi hesitates but finally sighs, closing her eyes. “Fine, I promise.”

Powder hums. “Pinky promise?”

Vi raises one eyebrow. “Really? Are we ten right now?”

Powder grins, holding out a pinky finger in front of Vi's face. “Come on. Do it, loser.”

“You're ridiculous,” Vi tries to bite back a laugh. “Fine.” She links her pinky with powder's. “Pinky promise.”

“Perfect. Remember, you're not allowed to go back on it now. I'll strangle you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, boss.”

“Oh wait-” Powder's eyes light up, then a grin splits her face. “You remember how we'd always have pillow fights when we were younger?”

Vi groans, already knowing where this is going. “Please, no.”

But it's too late. Powder is already grabbing a pillow off the couch and whacking Vi in the back of the head. “C'mon, it'll be fun,” she grins.

Vi rubs the spot on her head that powder just hit. “Oh god,” she groans again.

Powder chuckles, tossing her another pillow. “No getting out of it,” she teases.

She catches the pillow. “Fine,” she says. “But I'm kicking your ass.”

Powder laughs, already readying her own pillow. “As if. I'm more agile than you are.”

Vi scoffs. “You wish,” and thus, the pillow fight begins.

—

2 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP, FIRST SNOW

You're sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels on the TV, trying to find something to watch on another boring Friday day. Suddenly, you hear Vi calling out your name, and you look over to see her leaning against the window.

“It's snowing,” she shouts eagerly. “Babe look!”

You chuckle. You get up from the couch, walking over to the window to stand beside her. You can see the snow falling slowly outside.

Vi glances over at you. “It's snowing,” she repeats. She's practically pressed up against the window, her nose almost touching the glass as she watches the snow fall. She's grinning when she looks at you and exclaims, “It's our first snow of the year!”

She suddenly grabs your arms and pulls you closer, forcing you up against the window too. She presses a quick kiss to your cheek before she puts her hands on the window sill and leans out. Snowflakes are falling around her, and she tips her head back, catching them on her tongue.

“Come on,” she urges. “Taste the snow.” Without waiting for an answer, she grabs your shoulder and pulls you towards her, planting a cold, wet kiss on your lips. The snow that was in her mouth is now in yours. “See?” she laughs, pulling away.

Still holding on to your arm, she prevents you from moving away from the window. Instead, she guides your hand up to the glass. “Make a wish on the first snowflake,” she instructs.

“You really want me to make a stupid wish on the stupid snowflake?” you tease.

“Yes,” Vi responds bluntly. She squeezes your hand, her grip tightening around your fingers. “Now come on, make a wish.”

“Alright,” you relent, shaking your head in mock defeat. You tap your finger against the glass, watching as a single snowflake drifts down. You let out a breath and close your eyes, making your wish.

A yacht and a mansion would be nice, and while we were at it, I should wish for no taxes and free college. Maybe I'll even win the lottery. Win a million dollars. No, fifty million. I'm feeling lucky. I'll buy us a house with fifteen rooms. Ten christmas trees, one for every room. We'll even have a room for our christmas trees. I want to find a cure for cancer. Discover a never-before-seen species of shark, maybe a mermaid.

But most of it all, I want to spend another Christmas with her.

“There,” you say, looking back at her. “I made a stupid wish.”

“Good,” she says, grinning. She's satisfied with your compliance, then she releases her grip on your hand. She slides her arms around your waist, pulling you closer, resting her chin on your shoulder. “I hope your stupid wish comes true.”

She stays like that for a moment, her body pressed up against yours as you both watch the snow continue to fall outside. After a few silent minutes, she moves her head slightly and rests her forehead on your shoulder instead of her chin. Her voice is quiet, muffled a little against your shirt. “Promise me something.”

You glance down at her. “What is it?” you murmur, bringing your hand up to brush your fingers through her hair.

She lifts her head up so that her cheek now rests on your shoulder. Her fingers twist into the material of your shirt, clinging on tightly. “Promise me we'll spend every day through winter together, even the cold nights. Promise me you'll keep the fireplace going.”

Your hand gently massaging the back of her neck, your fingers playing with the soft hairs there. “I promise,” you whisper into her hair. “Every day. All winter. Even the cold nights. I promise.”

She hums in response, satisfied, and nuzzles closer to you. She pulls you closer, and you can feel her heartbeat—the steady thump thump thump against your chest. She mumbles something against your shirt, the words unintelligible. When you look down, you can see her cheeks are red.

“Whatcha saying?” You tug at a strand of her pink hair before you reach up and trace the edge of her ear with your fingertips.

She shivers when you touch her ear, and a grin spreads across your face. She buries her head further in your shirt, still mumbling something against the material. It's muffled, but you can still hear the last part of what she's saying.

“Love you.”

You can't stop yourself from smiling. You pull her head back so that she's looking up at you now. You want to see her face when you respond. You brush her cheek with your thumb before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her mouth.

“I love you too.”

—

5 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

Vi paces back and forth in her room, checking her phone every couple of seconds. It's been five days. Five days, and still nothing. She can wait. Yes, she can wait.

You've kept Vi on the edge of her seat for days. Which is why Vi's heart was practically beating out of her chest as her phone dinged. She practically pounces on it, grabbing it off the bedside table as she checks the notification.

Please say yes. Please say yes.

She taps the screen, opening the notification.

...it's a meme from Powder, another stupid cat video.

She texts back, “Powder. One of these days I'm going to turn off your damn notifications. Stop sending me stupid cat videos.”

Powder immediately replies, a picture of her flipping off the camera. Below it, she's added the text “love you too.”

Vi rolls her eyes, tossing her phone onto the bedside table. She flops onto her bed, sprawling out and glaring at her ceiling.

She sighs. How is it that she's been reduced to checking her phone every thirty seconds, jumping every time a notification goes off?

Pathetic.

Vi looks down at herself, looking at the sweater that she's wearing. It's an ugly-christmas-themed one that you gave her. The colors clash, there's patterns thrown in everywhere, and the whole thing is absolutely atrocious.

and it's her favorite thing in the world.

She wraps her arms around herself, snuggling up on the bed and burying her face into the fabric.

The stupid sweater smells like you. 

She has become a mess these last five days. Not knowing if you will take her back has been slowly driving her mad. She can't even take her mind off you, especially since she's wearing this stupid sweater. It's stupid. This is just a sweater. An ugly sweater made of scratchy fabric. But she can't help clinging to it, desperate to remember what you felt like.

She wants you.

She wants you here, snuggled up with her on the bed. She wants you to wrap your arms around her, pull her close, bury your face in her hair, and sigh into her ear. She wants you to whisper to her, tell her that you miss her too.

Vi wants you back.

She knows she was the one who left you, so why the hell is she the one losing her mind? She's the one who ended things. She's the one who left you. So why can't she stop thinking about how good it would be to feel your lips on hers? She can picture it so clearly. The feeling of your mouth against hers. The taste of your lips

She has become a pathetic pining mess and she hates it.

Vi grabs her phone again, unlocking it and scrolling to her gallery. Swiping through the many photos she has saved of you and her. Pictures of you in her hoodie, pictures of you cooking her breakfast, pictures of you two with your foreheads pressed together.

Her thumb hovers over her favorite picture. It's a candid shot of you wearing one of her shirts and her favorite leather jacket as your hair is ruffled with her fingers.

Vi sighs, heart clenching when she looks at the picture.

If she can go back in time and punch herself in the head, she would. She'll grab past 3 months Vi by the collar and shake her, telling her not to be such an idiot. “You're gonna regret this, dumbass,” she'll say. And god, she does regret it.

She doesn't even have a good reason why she left in the first place. She's just scared and confused. Now look where that ended her. Alone on her bed, wearing an ugly ass sweater, pining over you like some pathetic idiot.

Vi locks her phone and tosses it aside with a groan. She grabs a pillow, burying her face in it and letting out a muffled scream. “This is ridiculous.”

She's a mess. She's angry, she's frustrated, she's hurt, and it's all her own damn fault. She's the one who pushed you away. She's the one who ended everything. She's the one who walked out of the door and slammed it shut. Then five days ago, she had the nerve to ask you if you could give her another chance.

Like that will make everything all better. Like you'll instantly take her back after she treats you like crap.

That's not how life works, idiot.

She wants you to come rushing through the door, push her down on the bed, and pin her against the pillows. She wants you to kiss her until she can't breathe. She wants to feel your touch, kiss, and nibble every part of her body.

And at the same time, she wants to be left alone, to wallow in her own misery. She wants you to stay the hell away from her. 

She hates feeling like this. She hates how her heart beats harder every time her phone buzzes and then immediately sinks when it's not a text message from you.

She hates her dreams—no night goes by that she doesn't dream about you—about your face, your body, your mouth on hers. She wants to feel your skin against hers, hear your voice in her ear, taste you on her tongue.

She's a pathetic, desperate, needy, pining mess.

Vi doesn't even realize she's doing it. Her fingers tangle in her hair, absently toying with the pink strands. Her hand drifts down to fiddle with her ear, tracing the edge of her piercing just like you used to do.

She almost closes her eyes but stops herself.

She misses you. She misses the little things about you.

The way you scrunch your nose when you're confused, the way you bite your lip when you focus, the way you hum songs under your breath when you're alone, the way you get this adorable smile on your face whenever you catch her looking at you.

She misses everything about you.

—

4 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP, FIRST CHRISTMAS

“I should tell Vander to decorate the house like that,” Vi says, her eyes reflecting the Christmas lights as she looks around the neighborhood that looks like it was covered in enough lights to power a small city.

“It would cost a fortune,” you point out. “The electricity bill would be skyrocketing, not to mention the cost of all those lights.”

“Come on,” Vi protests, wheedling. “It wouldn't be that expensive, and just imagine the look on ol' Vander's face when he sees his bill next month.”

“Don't you want to give him and the other old farts in this neighborhood an aneurysm?”

“That would be great, and oh—we could also get lights in the shape of a huge middle finger,” she suggests. “And maybe a giant santa statue right in the front lawn, with a sack big enough to carry a goddamn mountain.”

“Imagine the looks on everyone's faces when they drive by,” Vi continues. “They'll think they're hallucinating, seeing Vander's house covered in every color of light imaginable, with that huge ass santa statue waving a middle finger like a damn flag.”

The snow crunches under your boots as you and Vi walk through the neighborhood.

She doesn't shut up about how much she loves this time of year, from the chilly nights to the smell of pine trees to the Christmas movies and music that seems to be playing everywhere. 

“Seriously,” she sighs, her breath fogging up in the cold air. “This is my favorite time of year. Everything is so cozy and pretty and festive.” She reaches down and takes your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours. “Plus, I get to see all the cute couples out and about, all cozied up in their winter clothes, kissing under the mistletoe…” She smirks, nudging you with her shoulder. “Makes me want to do cheesy cute things with you,” she starts whistling a tune, swinging your hands.

“We could go caroling around the neighborhood, or maybe build a snowman out in the yard, or-” Vi suddenly stops in her tracks.

Before you can ask what's inside her mind, she grabs your hand and starts pulling you along.

“Come on, I have something to show you!”

You stumble after her, trying to keep up with her as she practically drags you through the snow-covered streets.

Finally, she stops running and looks over at you. “Ta-dah!”

You look at the spot she's brought you to. It's a small park, and in the middle of it stands a tree. Not too small, but not too big.

“Look,” she states, looking over at the tree. “Now, stay right here,” she instructs, pushing you to stand under the tree. “And don't leave. I'll be right back, okay?” She winks at you before darting off, leaving you standing alone under the tree.

What is she up to?

You glance around, trying to figure out what Vi has in mind. It's getting cold, and the snow is starting to seep through your shoes. A few minutes pass, and still no sign of Vi anywhere. Just when you're starting to get impatient, you hear a voice behind you.

“Close your eyes.”

You turn around to see Vi standing there, a smirk on her face. 

“Please, close your eyes, and no peeking.”

Reluctantly, you close your eyes.

“Keep them shut,” she warns. “Don't even think about peeking.”

You hear rustling and shifting, and then some sort of...clink? what on earth is she doing?

“No cheating, okay?”

Minutes and minutes and minutes pass by, it feels like you wait for an hour. All is quiet. There's only the sound of the wind and the crunch of snow. Then, you suddenly feel her hands settling on your shoulders, positioning you exactly how she wants you.

“Don't open your eyes yet,” she whispers in your ear.

Her hands slide down from your shoulders, trailing down your arms and then coming to rest on your waist.

“Okay,” she murmurs, adjusting your position. “You can open your eyes now.”

You blink a few times, adjusting from the darkness of having them closed, and then you look up. Vi has strung a bunch of Christmas lights up in the tree. It's almost like a scene from a cheesy Christmas movie. It's so sappy, but it's perfect.

“What do you think?” she asks. “Pretty damn great, huh?” she grins, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder. She pulls you closer to her, your back pressing against her chest. She smells like a christmas treat. Just like the cookies you love to eat.

“I figured all the best cheesy Christmas movie stuff needs a perfect, romantic setting,” she says, her fingers absently tracing patterns on your stomach. “And what's more romantic than standing under the tree, with the Christmas lights all around us and the snow falling down?” Vi squeezes you tighter, nuzzling into your neck and pressing a light kiss just below your ear.

“And of course,” she mumbles. “We can't have a cheesy Christmas movie moment without some cheesy Christmas music to go along with it.” Vi steps away, going over and plugging in a set of battery-powered speakers. They immediately start playing a Christmas melody.

You watch as she skips back over to you, her hands immediately settling back on your waist. “Now, let's get in position. I want this to be suuuper cheesy.” She waggles her eyebrows and grins again, moving so she's standing in front of you. “Okay, put your hands on my shoulders, and then move a little closer.”

You follow her instructions, placing your hands on her shoulders and stepping forward, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Perfect. That's perfect.” Her hands come to rest on your hips. “Now, we just gotta get one last thing…” Her hands move from your hips, sliding slowly up your sides and over your arms. She grabs your wrists and lifts them up, putting your arms around her neck so your hands are clasped behind her head. “And now,” she murmurs, pulling you even closer. Her eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “The mistletoe.”

You look up, and sure enough, there it is. A little sprig of mistletoe is hanging from a branch just above your heads.

“Seems like we have the perfect moment to finish off the Christmas movie cliché.”Her other hand is still on your hip, and she's pulling you so close now that you can practically taste her breath as she whispers, “You know what that means, right...?”

Even though you know exactly what she's talking about, you raise an eyebrow and give her a coy smile. “Oh, I don't know... refresh my memory?”

“Yes ma'am.” She then pulls you tight and leans forward, her lips pressing against yours in a soft, slow kiss. It's not at all like her usual passionate, fiery kisses. It's gentler, softer, sweeter. She nips at your bottom lip, her teeth pulling gently before her tongue soothes the redness. She tilts your head back, claiming your mouth in a much deeper kiss.

She pushes you up against the tree, pinning you there and claiming more and more of your mouth. You tighten your arms around her neck, pulling her even closer.

After a few more moments, the two of you finally pull away.

Vi rests her forehead against yours, both of you suddenly breathless from the kiss. Neither of you say a word. The only sound is your ragged breathing and the christmas music from the speaker.

“Well,” Vi murmurs, breaking the silence. She lets out a sigh and then chuckles, pulling back so she can look at your face. “That was pretty damn cheesy.”

“Like you weren't loving every second of it.”

“I would never deny that.” Her hands still on your waist, stroking your stomach. “I'd kiss you under the damn mistletoe all day, every day, if I could.”

“You're such a sap.” You move one hand up to her hair, tangling your fingers in it and toying with one of her pink bangs. “Corny, cheesy sap with a thing for Christmas movie romance.”

She laughs, tilting her head back to give you more access to her hair. “I just want to keep doing this,” Vi murmurs. “I want to keep spending Christmas with you, over and over and over,” she continues. “Every. Single. One. Even when we're old geezers with walkers and false teeth and liver spots, spending Christmas together underneath a tree.”

She pulls you as close, resting her cheek against your shoulder. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, mumbling the words against your skin. “I want to watch you open your Christmas presents. Even when we're both pushing seventy, then I want to watch you open mine,” she sighs. “I want us to argue over holiday decorations because you insist that the garland is crooked, and I don't care if it is.”

She tilts her head to look at you once more. Then she moves to place a kiss on the corner of your lips, then the tip of your nose. “I want to fight with you on the Christmas tree lot over whether we're going to buy a real tree or a plastic tree, but end up getting both just because you refuse to back down.”

She lifts one hand to cup your chin, tilting it up towards her, then moves to press kisses to each of your eyelids. “I want to wake up at three in the morning and sit on the end of our bed in our pajamas, our hair a mess and bags under our eyes, and listen to our kids in their rooms upstairs. Hear them whisper and snicker about the big fat man that's climbing down the chimney…”

She pauses, moving to press a kiss to the space between your eyebrows, to the tip of your nose again. “I want us to make Christmas traditions, even if they're dumb traditions. I want us to bake Christmas cookies and put ornaments on the tree together… even if you complain the whole time and say I'm doing it wrong.”

Then she moves her lips to your cheeks, a kiss to one side, then the other. “I want to go to the grocery store on Christmas eve, because you forgot to buy that one random ingredient that you forgot to put on the list and you refuse to cook without it,” she murmurs, her lips moving to your jaw. 

“And then, I want to watch you fall asleep on the couch in the middle of your favorite Christmas movie, even though you've seen it a hundred times.”

She presses a kiss to your chin, then another to the underside of your jaw. “I want to come home from work late on Christmas eve because I forgot to get a present, and I just know you're gonna say, 'I told you so', but you'll still give me a kiss and tell me to sit my ass down and not worry about any damn gift.”

She smirks against your skin, as she moves back to one of your eyes, placing a kiss to the outer corner. “I just want to spend every Christmas with you. From this one to the next, all the way through when we're old and gray. We can even spend Christmas in our damn graves.”

She pulls her hand away and lets her fingers slide down and find yours, intertwining them together, bringing your hand up to her mouth. She brings the back of your hand to her lips, placing a kiss against your skin. Her thumb gently brushes over your knuckles. Her fingers are calloused and rough, but her touch is soft and delicate, careful not to squeeze too hard.

Her eyes then close, placing your hand on her cheek, leaning into your touch. “Only you,” she murmurs. She turns her head to press a kiss to your palm. “Always you.”

—

6 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

You're once again standing in front of Vander's house.

It's been a whirlwind of a year—first the breakup, then the Christmas, and now the New Year's eve. You don't know how to feel. Excited? nervous? worried? you're not quite sure which one. Hell, chances are you're probably feeling all three.

Powder has been nagging you about coming for a couple of days, and your parents wouldn't mind anyway. They're spending the night by themselves in a hotel somewhere, doing the tango or some other bs. So, here you are.

You have a feeling that the family already knows about the breakup. Vi had told you she'd tell them after Christmas, and it's after Christmas. You just hope that it won't be too awkward.

You're here for two reasons.

The first is to celebrate new years with the family, and the second is to talk to Vi.

You need an answer. You need to know why she left. Why she really left.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, then head up to the front door. You knock once, then twice, hoping to god that you won't have to wait long. Footsteps approach from the other side, and you can hear the faint sound of voices coming from the other side of the door. There's laughing, talking, and the shuffling of feet, then the sound of the door opening.

You've barely even processed the fact that the door is open when you're suddenly engulfed in a hug. A pair of arms wraps around you. A familiar scent of cherry blossom invades your senses, and you feel yourself stiffening instinctively.

The woman releases her grip on you, pulling away to look at you with a wide grin. “You made it!” 

“'Course I did,” you reply, a smile on your lips. “You were spam bombing me on every social media you could find. Kinda hard to say no to that.”

“Knew it!” she chirps, then grabs your arm and tugs you inside, shutting the door behind you as she leads you into the house. Following Powder further into the house, the sound of Mylo's voice coming from the living room as he sings loudly and very, very out of tune.

Powder stops at the entrance to the living room and glances over at him. She pauses, her fingers still clamped tightly around your wrist. She glances back at you. “I mean, you're still my friend,” she murmurs. “After you and…” she clears her throat. “After everything.” She doesn't finish her sentence, just looks back at Mylo. He's still singing, clearly oblivious to your presence. His voice breaks on a particular note, the sound of his voice scraping against your ears. Powder shakes her head. “He's awful,” she mutters. “Always has been.”

“I'm almost surprised none of you have tried to stuff a sock in his mouth yet.”

Powder snorts. “Believe me, I tried when I was younger, but Vander said violence is never the answer.” 

“That sounds like Vander.” You can almost picture Vander swatting Powder's hands away and saying some sort of fatherly bullshit about not doing something like that. 

“Yeah,” she grins, mocking her father's demeanor. “'Violence isn't the answer, honey. You and your siblings need to find other ways to figure out your differences. Blah blah blah.' Something like that.” Powder lets go of your wrist, letting her hands fall to her hips. “Anyway,” she says, “there's food in the kitchen. We already ate dinner, but there's snacks if you want any.” She pauses, her eyes drifting to the living room. “Vi's in the living room, so uh…” she stops, her eyes shifting back to you. “You know, just so you know. Get prepared for that or something. I'm gonna go.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, I think I might walk around first.”

She smiles again and gives you one last pat on the shoulder before she steps past you and slips into the living room.

You take a second, letting your eyes drift over the decorations. Familiar faces are in family pictures on the wall. There's a few colorful Christmas lights still hung up on the walls.

Upon a second glance around the room, you spot Sevika in the corner, casually puffing on a cigarette. You can't help but wonder how she always manages to get away with that. There's definitely a no-smoking rule in the house, especially during events like this. Apparently that rule doesn't apply to Sevika. She's just enjoying her smoke.

She looks up as you approach, grinning. “Hey there, kid,” she greets as she tilts her head to the side, giving you a once-over. “How's it going?” She blows out a stream of smoke that quickly drifts away.

You try not to cough when the smoke drifts into your face. You give her a half-smile. “It's going,” you reply, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I mean, you know how it is.” You nod your head at the cigarette between her fingers. “I'm surprised Vander hasn't kicked you out yet.”

Sevika grins, the corners of her lips curving into a smirk. She places the cigarette between her lips again, taking a deep drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Believe me,” she replies, “he's threatened to do it about fifty times tonight.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “I can imagine.”

She puffs on the cigarette once more. “He's got that whole 'you're under my roof' speech down pat. I've heard it a hundred times.”

“Yet here you are,” you muse, gesturing at the cigarette in her fingers. “Still taking your chances.”

“I gotta get my cigarette fix.” She grins. She flicks some ash off the end before taking another drag. “Vander can lecture me all he wants, but I'm never giving up my vices.”

You're about to reply to Sevika, but you're interrupted by the sound of a familiar laugh. An arm slides around your shoulders, and you're surprised to see Ekko standing beside you. He grins at you, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Hey stranger,” he teases.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, bumping him with your hip.

He laughs before his eyes drift to Sevika. He looks from the cigarette in her fingers up to her face, then back to the cigarette again, then back to her face. He gives her a disapproving look, and Sevika just grins around the cigarette in her mouth. “Are you really smoking in the house?" Ekko asks, arching an eyebrow. 

Sevika takes a puff on her cigarette and shrugs. “I already told the kid, I live for the thrill,” she replies, shooting you a wink. “Besides, it helps me relax.”

Ekko rolls his eyes. “Of course it does,” he mutters. He turns to you. “Don't follow in her footsteps, got it?”

You stifle a laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” you say, waving him off. “I think I can handle myself, dad.”

“Hey!” Ekko exclaims. He places a hand on his chest. “I just don't want you to end up like some people.” He casts a pointed look in Sevika's direction. He then leads you away from Sevika, pulling you into the living room where the karaoke set up is. All of your friends are crowded around it, and Mylo and Powder are squabbling over the karaoke.

Claggor is perched on the floor watching his siblings, and he turns his head and smiles when he sees you. “Hey, you made it!” he says, getting to his feet. He claps you on the back, pulling you into a hug.

“Yeah, guess I couldn't keep away,” you joke, returning Claggor's hug. “I'm surprised you didn't try to stop me, honestly.”

Claggor grins and releases you. “Eh, I get it,” he says. “I know it's a little complicated for you to be here, but still... you're always welcome here. You know that, right?”

You nod, giving him a smile. “Yeah, I do.”

He pats your shoulder again, then turns back to Mylo and Powder, who are bickering again over who gets to go first.

Your eyes dart across the living room. And then, there she is, viola! sitting on the couch, she doesn't notice you at first. Until, a moment later, her eyes drift your way as you and Ekko walk over together.

She sits up a bit straighter as you walk closer, and she's looking at you too long for your liking.

Powder glances over at her older sister curiously when she sits up straighter. Mylo glances at Vi too, his eyes narrowing as he notices the look in her eyes. He looks like he's about to say something, but Powder reaches over and smacks the back of his arm, shaking her head.

He scowls at her. “What was that for?!” he growls.

Powder shoots him a look. “Shut it.”

Ekko grins, taking an open spot on the couch. He pats the spot next to him, gesturing for you to sit down. You glance at the spot, and it is...right next to Vi. You reluctantly take a seat next to her, making sure you sit a few good inches away.

Ekko glances between everyone, clearly noticing the strange atmosphere. “So…”

He's about to ask a question when Vi turns her gaze over to him, giving him such a death glare that he immediately stops talking. Powder shoots him a scathing look as well, her expression telling him to ‘keep your mouth shut’. Ekko laughs nervously, clearly realizing that he was just about to ask a question he definitely shouldn't have asked.

Eventually, Mylo clears his throat. “So, who's up for karaoke?” he asks, trying to break the weird atmosphere.

Powder perks up, her eyes lighting up. “I'll sing next!”

Mylo scoffs. "No way, it's my turn!”

Claggor rolls his eyes. “Seriously? you were just up there.”

While the two boys bicker and Powder starts whining that she wants a turn, you glance away, your eyes involuntarily landing on Vi. She feels your gaze on her and shifts her eyes to you, and your gazes lock. She doesn't say anything, and the eye contact lingers just a moment longer than it should've. She opens her mouth as if she's about to say something but suddenly looks away. Her eyes fixed on the floor, staring down at it for a moment. Finally, she turns to look at you again, lifting her gaze to meet yours.

“Happy New Year's Eve,” she says, giving you a strained smile.

“Yeah,” you force out, “happy new year's to you too.” The words feel flat, coming out almost awkwardly. She doesn't seem like she knows what to say either. She just gives a nod, looking away again.

Claggor grins. “Powder's a better singer than you, anyway,” he teases. 

Mylo turns his glare onto Claggor, shoving him roughly with a muttered, “Shut up, asswipe.”

Claggor scoffs. “At least she can hit the notes,” he shoots back.

Mylo scoffs back at him. “My singing is perfect. Thank you so much.”

“It's not. You sound like a cat being strangled,” Claggor points out.

Mylo's jaw drops. “I do not sound like that!”

“You do.” All of you chime in unison. 

Mylo groans in protest. “You guys suck. I'm the best damn singer here.”

Powder laughs at his claim. “You're the worst singer I've ever heard.”

The trio continue to bicker, and Vi glances over again, her eyes flitting up and down your body. Her eyes flick from your hair to your mouth to your collarbones. She glances at the exposed skin of your neck, her tongue suddenly running across her bottom lip. Her gaze lingers on your chest... and then she realizes what she's doing. With a loud cough, she looks down into her lap, her eyebrows creased and her neck flushed. “You look good,” she says, just loud enough for you to hear her over the sibling's arguing.

You look down at what you're wearing, surprised by her sudden compliment. “Thanks...?” you respond, meeting her gaze again. “You don't look bad yourself.”

Mylo, Powder, and Claggor are too busy bickering to really notice what's happening between you and Vi. Ekko notices, his eyes going back and forth between you two.

But even though they're too immersed in their argument, Vi still keeps her voice low so the others don't overhear her. She glances away again so not to draw attention to the way she was just staring at you. “Thanks.”

Meanwhile, Mylo is yelling at Claggor. “I'm better at everything, including singing!”

“You're better at being stupid,” Claggor fires back.

Powder pipes up with a grin. “Oh! I have a great idea!” They all turn to look at her, including you. She grins wider before saying, “Vi should sing!”

Vi seems a bit taken off guard, her eyes widening. “N-no, no, it's fine, I-” 

Powder pushes her forward. “Come on, sing a song for us!”

Reluctantly, Vi allows herself to be pushed forward, standing in front of the microphone. She shoots Powder a glare for pushing her. “You're an ass,” she grumbles.

Powder grins at her. “Have fun, sis,” she teases.

She sighs, then turns back to the karaoke. She hums a tune to herself as she scrolls through the song list, her eyes skimming over the options. There's a few seconds more of searching, and then her fingers stop at one particular song. She glances around the room, checking to see everyone's waiting to hear what she'll sing. Her eyes land on you last, and she locks gazes with you for a moment.

Before she has a chance to chicken out, she selects the song and stands in front of the microphone. Vi clears her throat again and takes a deep breath. she seems...nervous.

At the start of the song, you immediately recognize the opening notes. It takes you a second to name the song, but when you do... you almost choke. The lyrics start, and there's no denying it. It's true. She's singing what you think she's singing.

—

4 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP, CONFESSION

You're lying in bed, phone in hand, scrolling lazily through random stuff. It's a quiet evening, and the rain patters against your window. Suddenly, you hear a faint melody drifting through the rain. Music. It must be your neighbor who decided to blast music in the rain. but wait...

Did you just hear your name?

You sit up, suddenly intrigued. You place your phone down, sitting up straight as you listen to the music. Your brows furrow, trying to find where the sound is coming from.

It's definitely coming from outside... and it's getting louder. The faint sound of Aerosmith's ‘I Don't Want to Miss a Thing’ reaches your ears. Curiosity now piqued, you slowly get up from your bed and walk over to the window. Pulling back the curtain, you look out into the rainy night, and there, amidst the rain, you spot her. Violet.

She stands under the glow of the street lights, the light rain showering down around her. She's holding something... no. Not something. A boombox. It's an old, weathered boombox. The kind you'd thought had gone out of style decades ago.

She's singing. Singing... for you.

Her face is tilted upward, the rain kissing her face, mouthing the lyrics, “Every moment I spent with you is a moment I treasure.”

It's cheesy, so, so incredibly cheesy. It's so clichéd and almost straight out of a cheesy romcom. The old boombox, the rain, the song. It's something you'd roll your eyes at in a movie. But it's... sweet, in a way. The way her body rocks slightly to the beat, the way the rain glistens on her skin as she sings those lyrics.

You open your window, the rain and wind blow in, and you raise your voice over the sound of the rain. “What the hell are you doing?” you call out. “It's raining! are you crazy, Vi?”

Vi turns her head towards your voice, a smile stretching across her lips when she sees you standing at the window. “I don't care!” she yells back, holding the boombox higher. “I know it's raining. I'm not blind!”

She takes a few steps closer to your house, her rain-soaked hair sticking to her face. The rain and the light from the street lamps bounce off her skin, making her look like a mess. But she's grinning, that smirk plastered on her face as she holds the boombox over her head.

“You're going to catch a cold!” you retort.

“I've lived through much worse than a rain,” she calls back. “And nothing's gonna stop me tonight.” She then takes a deep breath before belting the lyrics out. The smile never leaves her lips. “Don't want to close my eyes. I don't want to fall asleep 'cause I'd miss you, babe, and I don't want to miss a thing.”

You look around nervously, checking to make sure no one is disturbed by her sudden performance. The last thing you need is your parents waking up and finding out that your friend is singing under the rain for you.

“Are you trying to wake up my parents? or the entire neighborhood for that matter?! keep it down, would you?!” you hiss through tightly clenched teeth, leaning out of the window more. “Get inside!” you whisper shout at her.

She continues to hold the boombox above her head, the rain running down her face and dripping from her chin. “Come on, let me finish at least!”

“You're going to get sick,” you protest, “and my parents will be mad,” you try to reason. Although the idea of your parents waking up to the sight of her standing outside, singing a love song to you, is... funny. 

Vi just laughs at your warning, shaking her head. “Eh, who cares about that? I'm having way too much fun pissing your parents off right now!”

“Stubborn idiot,” you murmur to yourself, sighing. 

You head downstairs to the closet to grab an umbrella. As you grab it, you give a quick glance out your living room window. Vi is still there, holding that boombox, continuing to sing in the rain. Grabbing the umbrella, you step out into the rain. The rain instantly slaps your face, and you quickly pop open the umbrella, holding it over your head.

Vi turns around to face you as you approach. Her singing falters when she sees you. Her smile widens, and she lowers the boombox.

“You really are the stupidest, most stubborn woman I know,” you grumble, holding the umbrella over your head as you reach Vi.

Vi is clearly soaked. She looks like a drowned rat, but despite the mess and her wet state, she's still grinning.

“Do you know how loud you are?” you ask. “You might wake up the whole damn neighborhood, banging that boombox at this hour. It's late, you loud, stubborn idiot.” You pause, studying her appearance. Her face is flushed, the redness on her cheeks betraying her. It could be the rain, the cold, or maybe...

“What?” you ask. “Nothing to say? cat got your tongue?”

Vi pauses, her eyes meeting yours. The rain continues to fall, slapping against the umbrella.

“I like you.”

What?

“No,” you watch as she shakes her head, correcting herself, rain dripping from her hair. “I love you. No, I'm in love with you.”

You stare at her, stunned. The words coming out of her mouth are unexpected. Your mind is in chaos. How could she do this, spring this confession on you all of a sudden? Your eyes are wide, your mind whirling. “What are you talking about?”

Her cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, the redness spreading to the tips of her ears. “I said I love you,” she repeats. “I love you. I've... I've loved you for a long time.” 

She takes a step closer, the rain continuing to fall around you both. The boombox is still clutched tightly in her hand, the music still playing faintly.

You're speechless, struggling to find the words to respond. Your heart is racing and your mind is spinning. After all the years of friendship, all the ups and downs, all the times you've seen her in all her glory... this is when she chooses to confess? now? in the middle of goddamn rain?

Your gaze shifts on her lips. They're slightly parted, raindrops clinging to them. They look soft, even under the rain, even in this awkward and confusing moment.

Vi speaks again, and her words snap you back to reality. “You don't have to say it back…” she says, her voice shaky. “I just needed you to know.”

“And I know I'm a fool,” she continues, her grip on the boombox tightening. “Singing my heart out in the rain like a dumbass... but I couldn't hold it in any longer. You're all I think about.”

Your hands clench around the handle of the umbrella, her confession replaying in your head. I love you. I'm in love with you.

All the times you've admired her, all the times a simple glance got your heart to race... It makes sense now. The feeling you always tried to ignore—the warmth and the flutter in your stomach.

You don't know what to do, what to say, and those damn lips of hers are not helping at all.

Screw it.

Your brain stops thinking, and you act on impulse. The umbrella clatters to the ground, raindrops drenching you both as you step closer to her. You wrap your arms around her neck, pressing your lips against hers.

Her body is tense, clearly taken by surprise, but after that, she melts into your arms. She drops the boombox, letting it fall into a puddle by her feet, and wraps her own arms around your waist. 

She's kissing you eagerly, hungrily, her lips moving against yours in a way that leaves you breathless. Her tongue slides against your lower lip, seeking entrance. You could never deny her anything, and you part your lips, letting her tongue explore your mouth.

Her hands roam over your body. Touching and grabbing at any part of you she can reach. Her tongue is hot against yours. Sliding and tangling together, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your lips break away from hers, both of you drawing in ragged breaths.

Her forehead pressed against yours. Both of you are shaking from the cold. Her eyes are half-lidded as she looks at you, her lips swollen and red. “That's…” she mumbles, her voice hoarse. “That's one way to respond to a confession.”

Your arms remain around her neck, fingers buried in her wet hair. She's still gripping your waist, holding onto you tightly, her other hand coming up to brush a rain-soaked lock of hair from your face. “You're quiet.” Her thumb traces a path across your bottom lip. “Got something to say, or did I shut you up for good?”

“You always have to be so damn dramatic about everything, don't you?” you mutter, fighting the urge to smile. “Not even a proper date first or anything,” you continue, “just straight to saying I love you, no buildup. Very classy, very romantic.”

Her laughter is a low rumble in her chest when she shakes her head. “Welp, I'm a hopeless romantic,” she jokes, the corner of her mouth lifting in a lopsided grin. “When I see something I want, I go for it.” Her eyes roam over your face. “And I really, really want you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Now can we get inside before we freeze our asses off?” You reach down to pick up the umbrella. “I think we've given the neighborhood enough of a show for one night.”

Your eyes flicker from her soaked clothes to her shivering frame. “If you end up sick, my mom will have my ass for letting you stay out here for so long. You know what she's like when it comes to you…” Your voice softens, concern lacing your words. “C'mon, let's get inside before we catch a cold.”

Her shoulders sag when you mention your mother. She glances down at herself, taking in her wet clothes and shivering body. “Alright, alright,” she mutters. “Last thing I need is another lecture from your mom. She's damn scary.” She bends down to pick up the abandoned boombox, shaking off the rainwater.

You usher her to the front door of your house, your hand resting on her lower back to guide her. Her clothes are damp against your touch.

The door swings open, revealing your mother with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “You sure managed to wake up the damn neighborhood with your display out there.” Her eyes flicker between you and Vi.

—

6 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

You remember it all.

She used to hum that exact song to you. All the time. Humming in your ear, wrapping her arms around your waist, watching you clean dishes or cook.

Sometimes, she wouldn't even hum it. Sometimes, she would just sing the lyrics to you, while her fingertips would trace random patterns on your skin. Doodles on your back, swirls on your stomach, sometimes little hearts on your arm.

You'd always tease her. “Do you know any songs other than this one?” She'd just chuckle and hum the song harder.

All the while, she would pepper small kisses on your neck and shoulders.

You'd try to push her off, “Stop, I'm trying to clean,” even if you both knew that it was useless to try and stop her.

Sometimes you'd even start singing along in a loud, off-key voice, just to annoy her.

She'd stop humming and glare at you. “Stop that,” she'd say, pouting.

You'd just laugh at her. “Make me,” you'd challenge.

You always used to laugh and tease her about it at first... but slowly, it started to grow on you.

You'd catch yourself humming the song after she stopped visiting, and you hated that your mind instinctively wanted to hear her voice singing it. Sometimes, you'd hum it yourself, but it never compared to how she sang it. She's so much better than you.

The song continues, you just couldn't take your eyes off her. She's just... breathtaking. The way her eyes closed as she got into the song, the way her lips moved with the words, it made you want to reach forward and...

...what are you thinking? you can't do that. you can't do that. So, instead, you just sit there. You just listen. You just watch.

She's looking at you. You can feel it. Her gaze lingers on you longer than everyone else. She's really singing to you, isn't she? why does she have to make this harder?

Your heart is beating so hard, you wouldn't be surprised if everyone could hear it.

When the song finally ends, you're snapped out of your thoughts. Everyone cheers, clapping loudly.

“That's my sister!” Powder exclaims.

Mylo whistles. “Better than I expected.”

Claggor just grins, giving Vi a round of applause.

While everyone else starts chattering, you just sit there in stunned silence. Your palms are starting to sweat, and you feel sick.

Vi sits down on the couch next to you, sitting close but not close enough to actually touch or bump into you.

The others begin taking their turns singing. Ekko sings first. He starts singing a song you don't recognize, but it's something rap and upbeat. Mylo takes the mic next and immediately starts butchering a love song. Powder laughs her ass off, “You're terrible at this!”

Claggor gives Mylo a glare before taking the mic, and he actually sings a pretty decent song. “See?” he says, shooting another glare at Mylo, “that's how you do it.”

Mylo lets out an indignant squawk. “Yeah, whatever, I'm not even trying.”

“Whatever helps you feel better about sucking.” Powder snickers.

It goes on like that, back and forth. One sings, the others make comments, Powder makes fun of Mylo, repeat.

The whole time, you're just stuck there with Vi. So close yet so far away.

—

4 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP

Vi's cheek rests on the countertop, her fingers mindlessly running over the rim of the glass in front of her. It's empty, having never even been touched. Vander leans on the other side of the bar, still cleaning the glass in his hand. The place is nearly empty now, just a few stragglers sitting here and there.

“You gonna drink that?” Vander asks, raising an eyebrow at Vi's untouched drink.

Vi doesn't lift her head from the counter. “Nah,” she says. “Not in the mood tonight.”

Vander looks at her for a moment, still cleaning the glass. He puts the glass down, resting his arms on the counter, leaning forward.

“Something's on ya mind?”

She lifts her head up, rolling it until it's resting on her chin instead. She doesn't look at Vander. Her gaze on the wall on the other far side of the bar. “Can I ask you something?”

Vander pauses, then he simply nods. He knows what that tone means. The same way he knows the look in her eyes. “Sure,” he replies, “go ahead.”

“How do you…” she starts, her fingers slowly tracing the rim of the glass. “How do you know when you've found the right person?”

Vander knows where this is headed. He thinks for a moment, scratching his beard. “The right person,” he repeats. “Well,” he answers, “you can usually feel it here.” He slowly touches his chest over his heart. “Why are you asking?”

Vi suddenly feels like a little girl again, sitting at the bar, watching her father work. It's so familiar, something she never seems to grow out of. “Dunno,” she says, looking back down at the glass.

Vander smirks, knowing her too well to take that excuse as an answer. “Try again.”

Vi sighs. She glances up at her father, who's still watching her. Vander knows her too well, sometimes too well. Her fingers stop tracing the glass rim. She sits up, her hand resting idly on the countertop. “There's this girl…” she mumbles.

Vander's smirk almost becomes a grin at her words. He rests his hands on the counter, leaning forward. “A girl, huh?” he muses. “A special girl?” He already can tell the answer to that, judging by how quiet she's been this evening.

Vi rolls her eyes, but she can't stop the hint of pink that appears on her cheeks. She can feel Vander's smirk, and she doesn't have to look at him to know he knows. “Just a girl, okay?” she doesn't want to admit she's completely whipped. But she is.

Vander chuckles, seeing the hint of pink against her skin. “Right,” he drawls, clearly not believing her claim. He moves to grab a glass from behind the bar, and he starts pouring himself something to drink. “Got a name?” 

Vi groans, hiding her face in her hands. Of course he'll ask that question. “Why does it matter?” she mumbles from behind her palms.

Vander can see the tips of her ears turning red, and he has to fight the urge to laugh. “Come on,” he urges, taking a sip of his drink. “What's the harm in telling a name? at least a first name.”

Vi peeks at her father from between her fingers. She knows he's not going to drop it. So with a sigh, she slowly lowers her hands, looking down at the counter. She mumbles your name, the tips of her fingers starting to fiddle with the glass again.

“So this girl…” he continues, “you been seein' her?”

His question causes her to snap her head up. He looks back at her, his smirk still present on his face. Vi shakes her head, glancing back down at her hands. “No… she's just a friend.”

Vander raises an eyebrow. “Just a friend eh?” he asks. “That's all?”

She lifts her head, giving her father a glare. “Yes, that’s all,” she mutters, shifting uncomfortably on the stool.

Vander just grins, looking smug. He sets the glass down on the counter. “She got a boyfriend... or a girlfriend? This friend of yours?”

His question makes Vi freeze. She never thought to find out, but now that he says it, it makes her stomach twist weirdly. She bites the inside of her cheek, shifting on the stool again. “No, I don't think so.”

“You don't think so?”

“I mean, maybe she does. It's not like I've asked,” she says quickly, not liking where this conversation is headed.

“You like her, don't ya?”

Vi's sure her face is completely pink now, her eyes avoiding Vander's. “I dont-” she stops, sighing. Her shoulders slump. Her fingers twisting together. “...so what if I do.” 

He knew it. “Nothin' wrong with it,” he replies, pouring himself some more drink. He doesn't look at her for a few moments, sipping on his drink. “She knows ya like her?”

Vi sighs again, burying her face in one hand. She shakes her head. “No, she has no idea,” she mutters. “And she better not find out. I'd never hear the end of it.”

“Why not? afraid she'll turn ya down?”

Vi's head shoots up from her hands, a glare planted on her features. “No!” she snaps.

Vander just lifts both hands in mock surrender. “Then why are you so scared?” 

“I'm not scared,” she counters. “I'm just worried she'll start treating me differently.”

Vander hums in thought. “And that's a bad thing?”

Her gaze drops back down to her hands fiddling with each other. He doesn't understand. She doesn't want to lose what she has with you already.

Vander raises an eyebrow, watching her. “Why are you so scared of confessing your feelings to this girl? how bad can it be?”

Vi's fingers pause. Her eyes shut tight. “What if she laughs?”

Vander snorts. “That's what you're worried about?”

Vi groans again, dropping her forehead onto the counter. It's not as simple as he made it sound. “She might do more than that, you don't know.”

“You're scared to tell her how you feel because you think she'll... what? beat you up?”

“That's not funny.” How does she explain this to Vander? how does she explain the way her stomach turns and twists at the thought of telling you how she really feels? how much does it terrify her that things wouldn't be the same?

“You worry too much, kid.”

Vi leans back against the stool. “I know.”

“Just tell her you like her already.”

“That's easy for you to say,” she says, her eyes avoiding his gaze.

“Then why are you so afraid to do it?”

Vi groans. “Because I don't wanna lose her.”

“She won't disappear if you tell her you like her.”

“You don't know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” he counters. “Do you really think she'll stop being your friend?”

She knows he's right, at least partially, but she's still scared.

Vander sighs, his eyes narrowing at her. He knows he just needs to give her the final shove. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

“For a while..”

Vander hums. “And you still haven't told her,” he states. It's not a question. It's a fact.

Vi starts to fiddle the hem of her shirt. 

“How long are you gonna keep avoiding it?” 

She mumbles something too quiet for him to make out. 

“What's that?” he asks.

Vi grumbles, her shoulders slumping. “I said, 'probably forever, probably.'”

Vander lets out a laugh. “You're impossible.”

“You don't know how hard this is.”

“You're always making things difficult,” he teases, then he suddenly asks, “Do you trust me?” 

Vi lifts an eyebrow. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”

He leans in closer to her. “Then just listen to me for a minute.”

Vi hesitates but nods at him to continue. 

Vander leans an elbow on the counter. “Stop being a coward and just do it.”

Vi's brows furrow, ready to argue, but before she can speak, Vander holds up a hand to silence her. “Don't say anything,” he murmurs, his eyes piercing her. “Listen, you're scared you'll lose her. I get it. But trust me, if you really know her, and I know you do, why would she stop being friends with you just because you like her?”

Vi opens her mouth to object, but Vander continues before she can.

“Stop overthinking, stop being so damn stubborn, and just tell her how you feel.” Vander takes advantage of her speechless state to keep going. “Worst-case scenario, she doesn't feel the same. Sucks, but you'll survive. Life goes on.” He pokes her forehead. “Stop being a big sissy.”

“I'm not a big sissy,” Vi grumbles, swatting at his hand.

“Come on, punk,” he teases. “When did you ever let fear stop you from doing something before?”

Vi huffs. She knows he's got a point.

“You've gotten into so much trouble before. You started fights, you stole things. You even stole from me, for gods' sake,” he scoffs. “But you're too afraid to tell a girl you like her?" 

She hates that he's right, and she hates that she's so damn predictable.

“You're being ridiculous,” he scolds. “You've done scarier things than this, and yet you're shitting your pants over telling your friend that you like her.” He always has a way of calling her out. “I'm just trying to knock some sense into your thick skull, pup.”

She shifts on her seat. gaze dropping to the floor. “Don't get me wrong, I want to. Badly. But-” she pauses, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “What if it doesn't work out? what if we just end up hurting each other? or worse… what if she will just hate me in the end?”

Vander's brows furrow. He has a feeling she will say something like this, and once again, she's right. The what-ifs are always scary. He thinks for a moment, his fingers tapping an absentminded beat on the countertop. As much as he likes to, he can't deny that the outcome of a relationship is uncertain.

“Hey,” he says. “Look at me.”

Vi hesitantly lifts her head, her eyes meeting his.

“It's true. We can't predict the future,” he starts. “But we can't let fear hold us back, either.”

“What if it ends badly?”

“Life is all about taking risks,” he replies. “You can't always play it safe, not when it comes to love.”

“But-”

Vander cuts her off. “It's never easy. When you love someone, you're putting yourself out there. You're letting her into your heart, and that's scary as hell. There's no guarantee of anything. Love isn't easy. It's not simple. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it's messy, sometimes it's even painful.” He pauses, studying her face closely.

“But you know what else?” he continues. “The good parts make all of that worth it. The smiles, the laughter, the feeling of her hand in yours. The little things, like waking up next to her or sharing a moment with her that no one else would have. That's what makes love worth it. The uncertainty, the fear... those are just parts of the journey.”

Vander holds her gaze. “Don't let that fear stop you from experiencing what could be amazing.”

He lets out a sigh. “You feel it, don't you? the way your heart beats faster when you're around her? that flutter in your chest when she smiles? the heat in your cheeks when she laughs?”

“That feeling, that connection,” he continues. “That's something special, Vi. Something rare and beautiful. You can't just ignore that. You can't pretend it doesn't exist. Look, I'm not going to pretend that I can make this choice for you. That's not my place... but I will tell you this.” He reaches out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It's always worth the risk, Violet.”

—

6 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

Everyone makes their way to Vander's backyard. He's standing at the grill, flipping burgers and hot dogs.

Powder is a few feet away, setting up a few fireworks displays that she made in advance before walking over to Mylo and setting up a few lawn chairs. Silco and Benzo are standing near Vander, talking quietly among themselves, occasionally stealing a beer from the cooler.

You find yourself sitting in a lawn chair with a soda in hand, while Claggor is sitting in the chair beside you, laughing at something that Ekko said. You take a sip, letting the liquid slide down your throat. You sigh, slouching in the chair.

“Seriously, have you ever even talked to a girl before?” Claggor says, raising an eyebrow.

Ekko gasps. “I have too! I've talked to tons of girls.”

“Name one.”

“...”

Claggor grins, poking Ekko. “That's what I thought.”

You can hear Powder and Mylo arguing about something stupid, just like they always do. Mylo seems really angry about it. “You never listen to me!”

“It's not my fault your ideas suck!” Powder argues back.

It's like the two of them never run out of things to bicker about, no matter how petty or ridiculous. They can argue about the weather. Mylo could look outside, see that it's raining, and still somehow get mad at powder and vice versa.

Vi is a few feet away, standing next to Vander. She has a cigarette hanging from her lips.

You've seen her smoke countless times. Sometimes she would blow smoke in Powder's face just to piss her off, or she would take a drag and then kiss you, the lingering, slightly bitter taste of the cigarette on her lips. She would even try to blow the smoke into your mouth. It's such a weird feeling, feeling the smoke pass from her lips to yours.

You take a sip of your soda, taking your eyes off her before you could remember anything else.

Across from you, Sevika glances at you from over the top of her beer bottle. She looks like she wants to say something, but she just takes another swig from the bottle instead.

Soon enough, Vander finishes with the grilling. Everyone scrambles to get their food, with Mylo and Claggor passing out paper plates loaded up with hotdogs and hamburgers.

Everyone gathers around in a circle. Silco is holding a bottle of beer in his hand, raising it up. “I have something to say.”

Everyone quiets down, glancing at Silco. Powder is still stuffing her face with food, but Ekko grabs her arm. “Stop eating and listen.” Powder grumbles something but sets her food down, giving Silco her full attention (as much as she can, at least).

Silco clears his throat, taking a sip from his beer. “New years. The start of a fresh year, a new beginning.”

He glances around at everyone, his eye lingering on Vi for a few seconds, and then his gaze lands on you. You quickly look down, taking a sip from your soda and pretending like you didn't notice.

“This year has been a shitshow, we all know it, but we always manage to keep together. No matter what happens, we're all family here. We look after each other. We take care of each other.”

Claggor and Ekko share a look. You notice Powder giving Mylo a nudge with her elbow. Mylo scowls at her.

He takes another sip of beer. “It's a time to forget about mistakes and move forward, to grow and learn, and for some of us…” his gaze drifts towards Powder and Mylo. “It's a time to stop acting like brats.” He continues, drumming his fingers against the side of his beer bottle, “So as tradition, I want everyone to think of a resolution for the new year. It could be as silly as wanting to eat healthier or something bigger like getting a new job or going on a trip.”

It's another one of Silco's traditions. It's something they all do every year. Everyone is thinking about their resolutions, thinking of something they want to keep for the new year.

Claggor and Ekko are still sharing looks, and you can hear Mylo and Powder whispering about something.

He glances around at everyone, raising an eyebrow. “Alright, any volunteers?”

No one makes a move. Everyone is either stuffing their face, or they're thinking about their New Year's resolutions, or they're just keeping quiet.

Silco sighs. It looks like it's down to him. “Jesus. If no one wants to go first... guess I'll go.” He raises his beer. “My resolution for this year is I want to get healthier. Eat healthier, stop smoking so much.”

Benzo chuckles. “A little too late for that, don't you think?”

“It's never too late,” Silco says, sending a glare at him.

He takes a sip of his beer before looking around. “Alright, anyone next? or am I really the only one going?”

When no one volunteers, Vander steps up. He raises his beer. “I can't say I have anything big, but I want to fix up the bar and give it a bit of a makeover. Something different.”

“New paint job?” Ekko asks.

Vander nods. “Might as well. It's needed it for a while.” He looks around. “Anyone else got anything to share?”

Benzo glances around before he finally decides to chime in. “Well, my resolution...hmm.” His hand rests on Silco's shoulder. “I want to convince Silco to stop smoking so much.”

“I just said-”

“Yeah, but you've been saying the same thing every year. Your ass is still here, smoking your lungs to death.”

“I'm trying,” Silco mutters.

Benzo laughs, patting his shoulder. “Sure you are.” Silco grumbles something under his breath but says nothing. Benzo takes a swig from his beer. “Who's next?”

Claggor is staring down at the beer in his hand, swirling it and watching the liquid move around the bottle. His eyebrows furrow.

Vander glances at him. “You got one, boy?”

Claggor snaps out of his thoughts, looking over to his father. He hesitates but ends up nodding, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I actually have one.” He hesitates for a second before speaking, “My new year's resolution is... well, my goal is to pass my final exams so I can get my certificate for being a certified mechanic, but... it'll take a lot of work.”

Vander beams. “That's a good resolution. Hard but achievable.”

“Yeah, it won't be easy, but I really want to get it done. I just-” Claggor suddenly looks down at his beer again. “I just don't know if I can do it.”

Vander places a hand on his shoulder. “Don't doubt yourself. You've got the potential. We're all rooting for you, kid.”

“Yeah, you'll make a great mechanic,” Ekko chimes in, “and all of us will be in your garage for free car services.”

That gets a laugh out of Claggor, and he gives Ekko a punch on the arm. “Sure thing. I'll give all of you free services once I pass.”

“Now you're speaking my language,” Mylo grins. “Once you're a mechanic, you better make sure you don't overcharge me.”

“I know you can't afford me, Mylo,” Claggor teases. “I'm going to make you pay double.”

There's a collective chorus of ‘oooh's,’ and Mylo rolls his eyes. “Okay, smartass.”

Claggor laughs, taking a sip of his drink. “Who's next?”

Everyone goes quiet again. No one else is saying anything. The only sounds are the clinking of Claggor setting his beer down and Ekko opening a bag of chips.

Powder is sitting quietly, staring at her hands. Her fingers are picking at a loose piece of skin on her thumb.

Silco glances at her. “Powder?”

She looks over, suddenly blinking out of her own thoughts. “Oh—right, my turn.” Powder pauses for a second, staring down at her drink. She clears her throat and raises her soda. “My resolution for the new year is... I want to get into MIT. I know it's a long shot, but I really want to get in.”

Everyone is quiet for a few seconds, processing the words that just came out of her mouth. Then there's a sudden barrage of questions.

“MIT!”

“Really?”

“How?”

“Are you serious?”

Powder almost loses her balance when everyone starts talking over one another. She grumbles, waving her hands around to try and get everyone to be quiet. “Okay, okay! Shut up and I'll explain!”

All of them immediately snap their mouths shut, Powder sighs, and sit up straight. “Thank you. Now if you'll let me continue. Yes, my new year resolution is to get into Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Everyone knows MIT is one of the most competitive schools out there, right? Hell, it's one of the best schools out there. It's... it's really selective. It's a place for brilliant people, but I've been studying a lot, really going hard at it, and I actually think I have a small chance at getting in. I've already looked at their application-”

Mylo interrupts her. “But how are you going to get in? we don't have the money to afford that Pow…”

“I know! I've looked into grants and scholarships, and they do have a few financial programs for students who need help paying. If my applications go through, I can get a partial or even full scholarship. I really want to get in. I know it's a lot of work, but I'm up for the challenge.”

Mylo raises an eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak but Silco cuts him off with a look, ‘Let her finish’ Mylo snaps his mouth shut again, glaring at Silco.

Powder continues. “And honestly, I didn't just wake up one day and decide I wanted to get into MIT. I've been working hard for a while. My grades are great, I have tons of extracurricular activities, a few teachers have agreed to do recommendations for me, and-”

“If you get into MIT, you'll be moving away, right?” Vi cuts in. She pushes herself off the wall, tossing her cigarette into the nearest trash bin, then making her way over to her sister.

Powder's face drops at the question. “If I do end up getting in, I probably won't be around here a lot. MIT is nowhere near here.”

It's an honest answer. There's no sugar coating or beating around the bush to make it seem less harsh. Hearing the words come from Powder's mouth makes it all suddenly seem real. If she does end up getting into that school, she'll be gone. She'll be hours away in a completely different state. 

“I'll probably be busy studying a lot anyway, on top of clubs and stuff. It's a lot of work, honestly, and besides, I can always video call you or something.”

Vi ruffles Powder's hair. “Well, if you are going to be way up there on the east coast...don't forget about me—I mean us,” she looks around. “Yeah?”

Powder sighs and swats at her sister's hand. “I won't forget about any of you. You guys don't have to worry. Once I get into MIT, I won't abandon you all or anything.”

Silco says, “If you think you've got it in you to get into a place like MIT, then go on, kid. Try it.”

Claggor agrees with Silco, nodding. “You can do it, pow-pow. You're smart. You can make it into MIT.”

You give a supportive smile and a nod. “If you really want it, I think you should go for it. If you get in, you'll be going to a place for brilliant people, and you're definitely smart enough to be one of them.”

“Jesus, you're gonna be a long way away,” Mylo says, sighing.

Benzo adds, “Yeah, but it's good for her. Getting into somewhere like MIT is no small feat. Go for it, kid.”

Vander looks over at Powder and smiles. “That is a big place for big things. If you think you can make it, go for it. We're always here for you, Pow-pow.”

Ekko grins. “And if you get in, you'll have to show us around the campus.”

“Thanks… thank you guys. I didn't think I'd be so nervous about saying all that, but…” Powder glances around at them. “Now you guys have to share your resolutions now.”

Everyone's heads collectively turn to Mylo. He groans in response. “My resolution is, uh... to get laid and have a... girlfriend maybe,” he mumbles out, not really putting a lot of effort into his answer.

Claggor snorts. “That's what you said last year too.”

“Hey, things change! It's going to happen this year!” Mylo huffs. “And it's gonna be an actual girlfriend this time!”

“Like you had a fake girlfriend before?” Powder teases.

The group goes quiet, a few awkward glances going around. You notice a few people look at you, then at Vi. You can't count how many people clear their throat at that.

After a few seconds, Claggor speaks, “Well, that's... that's a resolution, I guess?”

Powder clears her throat again. “Yeah... guess so.”

Mylo looks over at Ekko. “What about you? what's your resolution?” he tries to distract everyone from the awkward silence.

Ekko glances around, then shrugs. “Dunno, figure things out, I guess. I think we all have stuff we need to figure out, so that'll probably be my resolution, to just... figure it out.”

“Figured out anything yet?” Powder teases him.

Ekko chuckles. “Not yet, still working on it. It's complicated.”

Mylo snorts. “Yeah, we could tell. You've had the same crush since middle school.”

Ekko opens his mouth, but Silco cuts him off. “Enough about the kid's love life. What about yours, Sevika?”

Sevika, who's been quiet the whole time, leans back in her chair. “I haven't really thought about it too much. I'm not a big resolutions kind of person.”

Benzo laughs. “Always living life on the fly. What about you, Vi?”

Vi looks at you for a few seconds, then looks away. “Work with myself more, I guess.”

“Work on yourself? in what way?” Claggor asks.

Vi shakes her head. “In a lot of ways, I've got a lot going on. Stuff that I should fix or just figure out,” she says, avoiding any eye contact with anyone but mostly avoiding eye contact with you.

Vander and Silco share a look, silently speaking with their subtle eye movements and raised brows. But neither of them say anything.

“What about you? You haven't shared yours yet,” Powder prompts, turning the conversation to you.

You never really thought too much about your own resolution, but now that they're all looking at you, you're starting to wish you did. You can feel Vi's eyes boring a hole into the side of your face, and you can't bring yourself to look at her.

You take a few seconds to think about your words, then you just decide to go with what you can think of on the fly. “I guess mine is just… taking more chances and risks.”

Powder nods. “Taking risks, yeah, that's good.”

Mylo raises an eyebrow. “Risks? what kind of risks? like skydiving or bungee jumping?”

You're starting to regret your response. You just said the first thing that came to mind, and now they're all going to be asking questions. You glance in Vi's direction, and your eyes meet for half a second. She quickly breaks the eye contact, looking away. 

You swallow hard and turn your attention back to the group. “Yeah, just...yeah, like that.”

Mylo scoffs, and it's obvious that he doesn't believe that. But he seems to decide not to pry into your answer too much. “Skydiving is definitely something I'll be interested in trying someday.”

Powder smirks. “You'll have a heart attack before the parachute even opens.”

“What? I'm in great shape. I could do it.”

“The only way you could skydive is if you were pushed out of the plane yourself.”

Mylo scowls and flips her off. “I could do it if I wanted.”

“Yeah. Uh-huh, sure you could.” Powder then checks her phone, checking the time 11:50. “Almost midnight!” she exclaims excitedly, jumping up and running over to the fireworks she was preparing. 

The rest of the group starts getting up, grabbing beers, and setting up for the upcoming countdown. 

Mylo and Ekko begin helping Powder, adjusting different fireworks, and making sure everything is in order. Powder is making some last-minute adjustments, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in silent concentration. Ekko notices this and laughs. “You look stupid when you do that.”  Powder just sticks her tongue out more in response, flipping Ekko off with a free hand as she continues working.

You look around, suddenly realizing that Vi is not where she was a few moments ago. You hear a noise next to you, suddenly you feel a presence beside you. You expect to see Vander or Silco. You look up to find Vi standing beside you.

She notices you noticed her but doesn't say anything, just kind of hovering beside you awkwardly. Both pretending to look around at everyone else's preparations for the new year's countdown, but neither of you is paying attention.

After silence and silence, the countdown begins, everyone in the group yelling out the numbers.

“10”

Mylo has his arm around Claggor's shoulders, ready to shout along with everyone else. Sevika raises a beer in the air. Benzo is recording the countdown. Silco and Vander are standing next to each other.

“9”

Powder is bouncing on her toes, her hand on the igniter, ready to fire the fireworks into the air. Ekko is standing beside her, a smile on his face as he watches her.

“8”

Mylo's head is thrown back as he yells the countdown. Benzo raises his phone up higher, trying to get a better view of the fireworks for the video. You glance at Vi, and this time your eyes meet, she's already looking at you.

“7”

Her eyes snap away as soon as your eyes meet, acting like she's not been looking at you in the first place. You're left wondering if she even wants to look in the first place. Maybe it's just a coincidence. 

Her cheeks have a faint dusting of pink, but it can easily be blamed on the cold.

“6”

You swallow hard, your heart starts to pick up its pace. Your eyes flick back to her, and this time she's staring off somewhere to the side, refusing to look at you. You start to get a nagging, sinking feeling in your stomach, but you push it aside.

It's not like she's looking at you because she wants to. Right?

“5”

Suddenly, you feel a touch against your knuckles, causing your fingers to twitch at your side. It's a subtle touch, one that you could ignore. But you don't. You don't dare look down at her hand, you don't even move your hand away. 

“4”

Vi's fingers are still touching your knuckles, and neither of you are moving away, neither of you are saying anything, and neither of you are looking at each other.

“3”

Just 6 days ago, she held your hand tight on her own, but now it feels like a simple brush of fingertips over knuckles is almost too much to handle.

“2”

Slowly, almost cautiously, you feel her pinky fingers touch yours. They brush against your skin, trying to intertwine your fingers with her own. It's hesitant and slow, but after a few moments, you take the chance and slowly move your fingers over hers, intertwining them.

“1”

Her fingers twitch when you intertwine your fingers with hers, like she's shocked that you're letting yourself do this. She doesn't pull away though, her fingers just tighten, locking yours together. 

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The group erupts into cheers and celebration, shouting out the words loudly and fireworks and whistles going off all around. Powder is shouting and smiling and laughing, launching fireworks into the air. Mylo and Ekko lift Powder up, settling to their shoulders, shouting happily. Benzo raises his phone, getting the whole scene on film.

Vander and Silco glance at them, then shake their heads with a smile. Silco murmurs something quietly, too quiet for anyone else to hear. Vander snorted at whatever he said.

Claggor nervously glances at Mylo and Ekko, worried that they're going to drop her sister accidentally. Powder notices him looking and grins cheerfully. “It's fine, it's fine!” she reassures him, then throws her hands up in the air. “WOO! Happy new year!”

Sevika downs the last of her beer, then tosses the can aside. She raises her eyebrows at the scene of Powder being lifted up in the air, a smirk crossing her face.

You turn to look at her once again. The fireworks light up her face in a kaleidoscope of colors.

She looks so... soft like this. Relaxed. Peaceful. You drink it all in. You want to remember this. The way the colors play across her face. The way the fireworks light up in her eyes. The way her eyes look so much more blue under the colored lights. 

It should be illegal for her to look this good.

You've seen her make a hundred different expressions, every one of them just as beautiful as the last. But somehow, the way the light plays across her face is making her look downright ethereal.

You've always loved her hair. The way it frames her face, how you always want to bury your fingers in it.

You want to reach up and brush her cheek, to run your fingers over the little bumps of those freckles. You want to count them all, and you want to make sure you don't miss a single one. Maybe even kiss each one, if you're feeling daring.

You think about her lips. The pouty, pretty, perfect curve of them. How pink they are and how soft they look, how much you want to kiss them or watch them say your name.

You want to kiss the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jaw. Maybe whisper something in her ear, just to watch her shiver.

The way she talks. The way her voice can be so gravelly but also so smooth at the same time. The way she laughs, her eyes lighting up as her body shakes. The way her voice gets breathless when she's riled up.

You love the way she says your name, how it sounds so different on her tongue than anyone else's.

You want to hear her say it again. You want to hear her say it over and over, so many times that it starts to lose its meaning. You want to hear her say it until you forget how to breathe without her name in your lungs.

You want a thousand more moments like this one. Moments where the rest of the world faded away, moments where you thought there might someday be more to your relationship than broken glass and sharp words.

You want the domesticity of sharing a space with her. The quiet evenings and the stupid, petty arguments. Being able to come home after work and share a bed instead of coming home alone and trying to silence the aching in your chest.

You want the stupid things. Like cooking together, doing laundry, going shopping. You want to walk through the rain together and laugh at the stupid, soggy-haired look on her face. You want to hear her sing in the shower, complain about the weather, and have her crawl into bed with you when it's cold outside.

You want the dumb little arguments about who's turn it is to do the dishes, what movie to watch, and who forgot to fold the laundry. You want stupid, mundane things like the annoying morning alarm she sets that she hates and the dumb coffee mug that she drinks out of every morning.

You want the little things. The way she would leave the bathroom door open when she's brushing her teeth just so she can continue talking to you. The way she'd pull you to her side when you're watching movies. The way she'd steal your food even though you're both sitting at the same table.

More than that, more than the stupid fights and small annoyances, you just want her. You want all of it. Every stupid, messy, frustrating, wonderful thing. All of it. You just want her, every part of her. The soft parts, the hard edges, and the broken bits.

And there it is. There's the realization that makes your chest tighten.

You're still in love with her.

Somehow, that thought shouldn't surprise you. The way you've been acting around her, the way you've watched her without even realizing, the way you've ached to reach out and pull her against you. It should've been obvious.

You think of all the days you've spent apart. The sleepless nights spent waiting for a call or text that never came. The countless times you'd wished you could see her, touch her, kiss her, love her. The times when you'd told yourself over and over again that you were perfectly fine being single, that you didn't need her.

You'd been wrong. You'd been so, so wrong.

Because no matter how much you'd tried to deny it, no matter what you'd told yourself, nothing could change the way you feel. There's no way you could get rid of the way your heart stutters every time you look at her. You can't change the way you still crave her. You don't think you'd ever be able to forget the way her smile makes you feel like you're coming home.

You're still so goddamn hopelessly in love.

You're so focused on her that you don't even notice Vander looking at the two of you.

Vander glances over to Silco, shooting him a look. Silco's eyes flick to the two of you, then he grins, raising one eyebrow at Vander. Vander rolls his eyes, returning the expression.

—

7 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

The celebration has died down now, the clock striking past 1 am. Everyone is finishing up, cleaning up the trash and any unwanted mess.

Vi is in the middle of picking up a few empty cans lying on the ground, throwing them into the overfilled bin. Her head is bowed forward, her hair falls over her face, her body bent at an angle to reach the ground, her skin flushed warm from the cold air. 

There's so many questions floating through your head. You need to talk to her. You need to ask her so many things. Why she ended things, if there was a reason, if she wanted it to end, if you somehow did something wrong. You need to know. You deserve to know.

You watch her for a moment, then take a breath and step forward. “Can we talk?”

She's still bent over, picking things up off of the ground. Her fingers pause in their movement, and she straightens up slowly, her head raising and turning toward you. “Huh?” She blinks a few times before replying, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we can.” She sets the can in her hand down into the bin with a rattle, wiping her hands on her jeans when she's done.

“Can we go somewhere more... quiet?”

She glances at the rest of the group, but they're all mostly focused on their own tasks. “Yeah, yeah, come on.”

You walk across the yard, passing Powder and Ekko, who are teasing each other as they pick up trash, making a game out of it. The two of you walk silently, with no destination in mind. Neither of you quite knows where to take this conversation, but you have to have it eventually. You walk in a mostly awkward silence for a few more minutes.

Vi glances in your direction, noticing how your hands are stuffed deep into your pockets. “Are you cold?” she asks. 

You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. “It's fine.”

She hums in response. Her eyes trail down your body, then back up to your face. Her eyes linger on your hands shoved into your pocket. After a moment, she sighs, then stops walking. “Give me your hand.” She doesn't give you much of a choice as she steps closer to you. She holds out her own hand, keeping it there like she expects you to just place your hand in hers.

But you hesitate. Sure, you're holding her finger just minutes ago, but this feels so different now, so much more real. You know if you put your hand in hers, you won't want to let go… and yet you do it anyway.

The second your hand touches hers, she laces her fingers with yours, pulling your hand toward her. She closes her fingers around your knuckles and tugs your hand closer, lifting it and inspecting your skin, her fingers tracing small circles. She doesn't meet your eyes while she examines your hand, but her gaze is focused on it. 

“You are cold,” she mutters, tracing her fingers over your knuckles and the back of your hand. She lifts your hand, turning your wrist to reveal your palm, then touches your fingertips with hers. “Your hands are like blocks of ice. Christ, you really are an idiot sometimes.” 

Her eyes stay down, but you know her well enough to know that she's smiling. Even she can't keep the smile from her face. “So… what do wanna talk about?”

Her eyes flicker up to your face, but she quickly looks away again, turning to watch her own fingers still tracing over yours. “I just wanted to ask why.”

Her fingers still for a moment, lingering in midair just above your hand. “Why what, exactly?”

“Why did you end things so suddenly? like…” you pause, licking your lips as the question sits on your tongue. “You never gave me a clear reason, just... left. No second thought. No explanation. Nothing.”

Vi's fingers go back to tracing soft lines over your skin, her head still bowed, staring at your hand. She doesn't answer at first, then sighs again. “It's not that... it's not like I wasn't happy. You made me happy. So happy. It's…” she pauses, her teeth catching the inside of her lip as her fingers freeze and she lifts her head finally. “I got scared.”

Her words take you slightly by surprise. Scared?

Her head turns toward you, but she won't meet your eyes. She glances to the side. “I got scared. We were fine. You were fine. I got scared. I got scared that you would change your mind, that you would realize that I wasn't good enough for you. I got scared like a damn coward.” She takes a breath before continuing. “I convinced myself you would be better off without me, so I ended it... to protect you, I guess... it sounds stupid out loud, doesn't it?”

“It sounds like bullshit.” 

Her head snaps up to look at you. Her fingers curling around yours just a bit tighter. 

“You can't just... I thought—I thought I did something wrong. I thought it was me.”

She shakes her head, eyes now locked on your face. “That's not it. God, no, it's not you. You were—are—perfect. Too perfect. You're more than enough. I just didn't…” she pauses, her tongue darting out to lick over her lips. “I'm a mess. I'm just a mess. I was so damn scared of ruining you.” Her eyes darts away, staring at the space between you. Her fingers loosen from where they're squeezing your hand, but she keeps her hold. “I'm sorry.”

It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The only sound you can hear is her quiet breathing and the distant voices of everyone else.

Bullshit. You think to yourself. Bullshit, bullshit.

Bullshit, because she let you go. bullshit, because she didn't talk to you. But all of that is swept away when you notice her head slowly dip forward, her forehead landing on your shoulder.

Your hands move before your brain even has a chance to think. Your fingers slide into her hair, letting go of her hand so one hand can tangle in the pink strands. It's just a muscle memory, you try to convince yourself.

She turns her face into your neck. You hear her sigh, then she shifts forward, melting into you and closing what space was left between you. Her arms wrap around your waist, her fingers gripping the fabric of your clothes. She's holding on like she's scared you'll slip away, even though she's the one who let you go.

Your other arm down to rest of her hip, keeping her close, keeping her here. She sighs again, her breath ghosting over your skin, your stomach tying itself in knots.

“That night... I hate that night. I hate it so much. I hate that you were crying. I hate that I was the reason. I really never wanted you to feel that way, but I couldn't... I couldn't fix it. I didn't know how to fix it, and I was making everything shitty.” She mutters into your shoulder.

“I would have helped you, if only you'd let me.” Your fingers slide over the back of her neck.

You feel her shake her head against your shoulder, her short hair tickling your neck. “I know. I know you would have. I just... couldn't. I wasn't.... I wasn't in a good place, and I was scared of bringing you down with me.”

“You could have told me.” Your hand moves to trail feather light touches through her hair. “You could have told me you weren't alright. That you weren't in a good place. I would have helped you. I would have been there. You didn't have to push me away.”

“I know. I know.” Her grip tightens around your waist, her hands almost shaking as she holds onto you. “I shouldn't have pushed you away. I was being selfish, and I didn't want you... I didn't want you to deal with my crap. I didn't want you to have to deal with... me.”

“Oh, Violet,” your arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her in closer. “I wouldn't mind having to deal with you. I never minded.”

“Shit, I was so stupid. I was stupid,” she whispers, burying her head into the crook of your neck. “I pushed you away because I was a damn idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” you murmur, “stupid? Maybe. A damn coward? Yeah, for sure. But an idiot? no, not an idiot.”

“They're the same,” she mumbles.

“No, they aren't. An idiot wouldn't have ended things out of fear, would they? An idiot would keep going until either both of you messed it up or you fell apart. A coward,” you correct yourself, “would end things because they were afraid of ruining something good.” You brush the tips of her hair away from her face, gently tucking the loose strands back.

She's quiet for a long moment, her face still pressed against your neck. “You make me sound smart.” 

“Well, you can be sometimes.” Your hands return to her hair. “...you made the dumbest decision possible, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” She tilts her head enough for you to see the side of her face. “I know, I know I did. It was so damn stupid. So... dumb.” She lifts her head higher, her nose bumping into the underside of your jaw. “I'm so damn sorry.”

“I... I forgive you. I do. I do forgive you. But-” Your fingers tighten their grip on her hip. “—you can't do that again, please. Just... don't push me away like that again. Don't be a damn coward again.”

“I won't, I promise I won't.” Her hand releases your shirt, rising to cup the side of your face, her thumb brushing across your cheek. “Not again, I swear. I was a damn coward, but I... I won't be like that again.”

“You're going to have to prove it.” Your own hand comes up to cover her's. You hold her palm against your cheek. “After pulling something like that, you're going to have to prove to me that you won't be a damn coward again.”

Her fingers curl against your skin, thumb tracing shapes over your cheekbone. “However I need to, I will. I'll prove it to you, I will. I'll do it a thousand times over.”

You tilt your head into her touch. “You'd damn well better. I'm not going through that again.” You pause, taking a breath. “You have a lot to make up for, you know.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “I know I do, and I will. I'll make it up to you, any way I can.” Her fingers move across your cheek, tracing gentle lines along your jaw, until they come to rest against the underside of your chin. “Every day, if that's what it takes.”

“Every day,” you repeat.

A smile tilts the corner of her mouth. “Then I guess I better get started, hm?”

notes: genuine question tho, would u go back to your ex? ...asking for a friend :D

taglist: @just-levyy, @padsfirewhisky, @jinxjinxjinx12, @writtenbyhollywood, @cottoncandyclouds-stuff, @eilishxo, @wlwdottcom, @lia-winther

candy crush. (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you’re too sweet, and ellie hates it. 

WORD COUNT: 4.3K

WARNINGS: recordshopmanager!ellie, crumblcookiebaker!oc, hurt/comfort, ellie’s a cunt, ocs too sweet, FLUFF?? FROM ME??? HUHHH, crushing, slight suggestive thoughts

A/N: idk where this came from lol

Ellie’s reorganizing the vinyl selection when a delicate hand lands on her shoulder. “I know your miserable ass doesn’t enjoy company,” Dina hisses in her ear, purposefully hushed, “But you got company.” 

Ellie’s eyebrow quirks with confusion, leaving the earplug that blasts Head like a Hole to dangle over her shoulder. Her eyes glaze over the semi-filled shop, narrowing in on every face until she locks eyes with you from behind the guitar displays. The eye contact only lasts about 1.5 seconds before Dina smacks her leg. 

“Don’t look. You’re gonna make it weird.” Dina quietly snaps from beside her, occupying her hands with some misplaced records. 

“You know her?” 

“I see her around sometimes. I think she works nearby,” Ellie catches her smirking from the corner of her eye, “… I think she likes you.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I’m dead serious. She’s been staring for the past 10.” 

“At who.” 

“At you, dipshit.” 

Ellie can’t help herself. She takes one experimental glance in your direction; discovers you typing away at your device with a black mask pulled down under your chin, bottom lip trapped between your teeth with worry. Your apron and tiny name tag indicates you probably work somewhere close by, but she can’t pinpoint where. You’re too far and her vision is failing.

“Get her numbe—“

Ellie’s head whips to face Dina, “If you don’t shut up, you’re fired.” 

“Abuse of power,” She snarks in return, “C’mon! She seems so—“

“D-Do you guys have any acoustics for sale?” 

You’re a ninja, for sure. Both girls' heads snap around to face you — who stands a bit too close for Ellie’s liking — phone desperately clutched to your chest and eyes wide as a doe. Mainly locked with Ellie’s before they drop to your name tag.

Crumbl. 2 shops down. 

Fuck. 

“Why, yes!” Dina says excitedly when Ellie doesn’t reply, “Most of ours have been used, but they’re still in great condition. Are you interested in renting or purchasing?” 

“Purchasing… I think.” 

“No problem. I can show you some that we have on display, and if you don’t like those, we have some stocked in the back!” 

Ellie’s forehead creases. Dina has never been this active in making a sale, let alone interacting with any customers. Ellie is always the one who’s forced to pick up her and Riley’s slack in the shop. She catches the light traces of disappointment that overtakes your expression at Dina’s interjection, but eventually, you’re led over to the guitar displays.

Ellie sighs in relief. 

That brief exchange gave Ellie everything she needed to know. She doesn’t find gratification in denying proposals at work, but after months of being hit on by a multitude of customers — the men particularly piss her off— she’ll be as stern as she needs to be to get the point of denial across. Sure, it makes her look like a cunt to the general public, but she’ll take that over being chased after on the clock. No questions asked. 

Ellie assumes that you’ve found what you needed because on your way out, persistent stares are thrown in her direction up until your departure. She dodges them with mastery. 

She would hate to have to embarrass a strip neighbor. 

Three days later, you stumble upon the record shop once more. Dina isn’t here to save Ellie this time, and Riley’s passing time in the break room. Your uniform is lightly dusted with white, presumably flour, and your mask is down, phone clutched to your chest like it holds all your secrets.

Your mouth drops open around a small smile when you approach the service counter, but Ellie interrupts before you can greet her. 

“What can I help you with?” 

She assumed her annoyance would be guarded by professionalism, but your smile drops at its corners at her tone. A light flinch that Ellie prays is enough to deter you from spending your breaks here. 

It doesn’t. Your eyes still shine like the star that you aren’t. 

“I, um… I actually wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay—“

“Is it regarding the purchase you made a few days ago?” 

Dina slid Ellie a notice on the down payment you made for your used dreadnought since you weren’t able to pay in full. The scolding she received about “taking care of you” whenever you returned made her teeth grind together. 

“N-No. I just—“

“I’d appreciate it if we kept the conversation about that,” Ellie uses the scribbles on her notepad as a distraction, “Did you have any questions regarding the instrument? Or if you’re interested in taking part in the lessons we offer, I could redirect you to Riley. She’s in charge of—“

“I just wanted to see if you were… interested in sampling out some cookie flavors I came up with? I’m a baking and pastry student and—“

“Look,” The tip of Ellie’s tongue sharpens into her cheek, irritation evident when you two are eye-to-eye. “I’m not sure where this proposal is coming from, but frankly, I’m not interested.”

The drop in your expression doesn’t stop Ellie’s relentlessness. 

“I don’t know you, and I don’t know why you thought I’d be a good candidate for… taste-testing, but I’ll politely decline. No thanks.” 

Her declination doesn’t sound polite in the slightest; quite snippy and condescending from your perspective, and it forces your windpipe shut. Only for a second before a strangled gasp leaves your lips. You’re not sure if it’s out of shock or lack of breath, but it aches in your lungs all the same. 

Ellie’s glare sends holes through your back as you rush towards the exit, the small bell singing through the store and alarming your leave. 

All Ellie can hope is that you got the message. 

It’s a new week, and therefore, a new Crumbl cookie line-up. Dina won’t stop raving about the carrot-cake cookie which doesn’t resemble a cookie at all. It's tiered and way too soft and stacked with icing that’s sweet enough to rot teeth from the gum. 

It reminds Ellie of you, for some reason; Somehow still managing to be a nuisance without trying. 

Even more so now since Dina’s been using her 45 to walk down and see you. To talk to you. Dina has yet to cough up what about — not that Ellie cares. It’s just weird that you two suddenly have so much in common after knowing each other for all of two days maximum. Whenever Dina clocks back in, she tortures Ellie with dramatic retellings of your stories. 

It’s Thursday; a quiet day for the shop that Ellie uses to her advantage when the sun is at its peak. Searching through cheap magazines and playing Candy Crush on her phone. 

What a time for you to come barreling in. The formerly enjoyable shriek of guitar suddenly sounds like nails on a chalkboard at your appearance. No longer are you in all black. You’re in a sundress. An orange one. You look like a popsicle. 

And you bear gifts. Ellie’s mood turns even more sour when she sees two bright yellow gift bags with smiley faces on them and a tray filled with coffee stuffed in your hands. 

“Good morning!” 

You’re smiling, gleaming, and Ellie’s nose turns up. She plucks one of her earplugs out and closes her graphic novel. 

“How can I help you?” 

You set your bag down on the display case of her prized arch top, and she sighs in exasperation. Annoyance sparks when she notices one of the bags has her name on it, flowers and hearts and sparkles surrounding the tag. 

“Can you not put your belongings on the displays, please? I’d have to clean up after you since none of my employees will.” 

You’ve already moved your bags and exclaimed apologies before Ellie could finish her sentence. She’s seconds away from shoving her earplug back in to tune you out, but you’re fast. Persistent. She hates it.

“I’m really sorry about that,” You say gently, and Ellie shrugs you off, “I, um. I-I came to, uh…”

Ellie blinks rapidly, “If you’re here to apologize for last week, don’t bother. It’s not needed.” 

“Not at all! Well, I’m just… I wanted to drop by and—“

“You’ve gotten quite comfortable with just… dropping by. Have you realized that?” 

Ellie’s squint is harsh and scrutinizing, and sorrow overshadows the light in your pupils. 

“Since it’s obvious that you’re not understanding me, I’ll put it like this,” She leans a bit over the counter, front fully pressed against the glass and palms resting on the stainless steel, “I’m not interested in anything you have going on. Stop using your breaks as an excuse to come see me. I don’t wanna go out with you. And I don’t want to do a taste test. Drop it already.” 

Ellie watches your lip quiver with a harshness exclusive only for people like you, tears welting in your eyes and your fingers pinching at the hem of your sundress. Insecurity is practically seeping from your pores, and your gaze drops shamefully to the floor. 

Ellie’s just about to tell you to kick rocks when the STAFF ONLY door swings open and exposes Riley. Her break ended 20 minutes ago. 

“Hey! You’re early!” 

Ellie scoffs, “No, you’re late—“

“Not you. Be quiet,” She waves her off and smiles at you, who’s smiling back at her with guised genuity. A complete 180 from the you seconds ago. Since when were you and Riley on speaking terms? Friends?

She jogs from behind the stand, “Dina told me you weren’t coming til 3!” Riley throws her arms around your shoulders, and your hands tremble where they rest on her forearms. “Are those the goods?” 

“Yeah!” Your voice sounds heavy. Like you’re guarding a breakdown, “I-I had some time so I stopped by a little early.” 

“I got some to spare til Dee gets here. Hang out with m—“

“Actually!” You intervene shakily, “I have some other drop-offs to make. I really appreciate you guys doing this for me.” 

“Are you sure you can’t stay? Watch me get my Food Network judge on?” Riley suddenly points in Ellie’s direction, “Who knows. Sourpuss might even pop a grin once she tries one.” Ellie’s cheeks run red-hot.

“Sorry, Riley. Maybe next time,” You’re already wobbling towards the exit, “But, please call and tell me what you think! Dina, too! Any feedback is appreciated!” 

“I’m sure they’re delicious, Monster!” Riley compliments playfully, “Text me when you’re home!” 

When the door shuts, Ellie sees Riley’s back stiffen at the sight of you frantically wiping your face through the glass. 

“What the fuck did you do.” 

“I didn’t do shit. She’s loitering.” 

“Lo— Oh my fucking god, you’re an embarrassmen—“

“No, she is. Taking up space for no fucking reason to come and see me. She’s loitering—“

“You’re blowing a fuse over fucking cookie samples?” Riley stares at her like she’s nuts, “And not to burst your self-centered bubble, but I told her to come. She’s been asking all the stores on the block if they’d like to taste ‘em.”

Ellie pauses, expression softening only slightly when Riley continues, 

“I told her you don’t like chocolate, so she made a peanut butter version for you.” Riley shakes Ellie's special, slightly smaller bag as a means to taunt her, and the freckled girl’s face burns red. Glows even harsher when her friend throws in, “You cunt. She’s a sweetheart. Not everyone is fucking obsessed with you.” 

Riley leaves Ellie to simmer in her discomfort, slamming the break door shut. The day seems to drag on longer than usual. 

-

-

-

Ellie’s organizing the break room when she comes across her small baggie that Riley left behind. She would’ve expected her friend to take them home after Ellie’s dramatic blow up, but there it sat on the counter, untouched and jeering. 

Tempting enough for her to rest the broom against the counter and inspect its contents. Wafts of cinnamon and peanut butter hit her through the small opening of the bag, and her heart gives a squeeze. The cookie is iced to perfection — an entire scenery on the light brown canvas. So many flowers and trees and the blue hues of the sky; almost too much detail. It looks printed on. 

You’re artistically talented and the cookie smells divine. 

One nibble wouldn’t hurt. She’s sure the damage she caused is already irreversible. 

But when she cradles the carefully swaddled cookie, a small note falls from beneath the bunched cling wrap. She knows she shouldn’t. She should really, really leave the neatly folded piece of paper where it lays. Down the cookie. Trash the bag. 

She takes the cookie and the note back to her seat at the table. The cookie isn’t what she unravels first. 

“thought I’d make you a separate batch. Riley gave me the heads up about your chocolate disdain. I’m too paranoid to ask for your number in person, so I thought I’d use bait instead. I hope it’s convincing enough. Please let me know if it’s decent. Thank you for tasting.”

Signed with your name and a smiling heart with wings. Ellie’s heart shatters, remaining shards dangling from the rim of her ribcage. She can already see her friends glaring through her chest when they visit the apartment to berate her tomorrow morning. She already knows what they’re going to demand from her, but she’s three steps ahead. 

She ate the entire cookie in two bites right where she sat. It was delicious. Almondy, not too sweet, gently spiced. Probably the best she’s ever had.

Ellie has never been to Crumbl before. 

The viral spot is always bustling — too crowded and filled with loud teenagers with a sugar rush for her taste. Plus, she’s already on the clock when they first open. But the record shop is closed on Fridays. 

She put an extra bit of care into her appearance. She doesn’t recall the last time she did her hair. Half of it is pinned up and her button-up is neatly pressed. Jitters rustle in the pit of her stomach and her forehead is a bit damp, mainly because she can see you through the goddamn window. 

In uniform, you stand at the register with the same beaming smile from last week, talking and giggling with your coworkers, and Ellie instantly feels guilty. Your day seems off to a great start, and here she is… About to ruin it. She almost turned around at the thought. 

But the small bell above the door blares loud, and your bright smile drops once you recognize her, and with that, her stomach. Ellie mentally notes the bags forming under your eyes and the tension in your shoulders. It looks like you haven’t rested for days. Her heart squeezes. 

Your movements turn robotic; stiffly perched on the sides of the iPad stand as your thumb works on the screen. You haven’t looked Ellie’s way since. She approaches the counter with her tail between her legs, fidgeting with her middle finger. 

“Um… hey.” Ellie’s quiet. Out of place. Afraid. 

“What can I get for you?” 

Even with the stiffness, you somehow still manage to sound as soft as a cotton ball, but Ellie’s body locks. The scenario hits her like a brick wall; she’s doing exactly what she accused you of doing to her last week. Bothering her at fucking work. She should’ve never come to your place of business to coddle her ego. She feels like a hypocrite. You certainly see her as one. 

“Um… A cookie?”

“… What flavor.” 

“Uh… peanut butter?” 

You swallow thickly, voice hollow, “That’s not on the menu for this week,” You point towards the display of cookies that were big enough to feed a family, “These are the six we’re serving until Sunday. You can also look at the menu on the screen.” 

Ellie follows your pointing finger. How the fuck does this place work? Weekly flavors? What the fuck does that mean? She quickly examines the names of cookies that flash across the screen: raspberry cheesecake, pink velvet… Mom’s recipe? Odd name for a dessert but she lets it slide. 

“W-What’s your favorite?” 

You’re a baker, for fucks sake. You’d have better taste than anyone, better than her, she’d painfully admit. 

She watches your fingers clench around the screen, tapping mindlessly. 

“Um… raspberry cheesecake.” 

“I’ll get a dozen.” 

“O-Of the same flavor?” 

She shrugs like it’s obvious, “… Yup.” 

You give her one skeptic look before tapping at the screen. “It might be a little wait. About 15 minutes. Do you mind?” 

“No.” 

“Cash or card?” 

“Card, please.” 

More tapping, “That’ll be $41.65. Swipe or tap whenever you're ready.” 

A financial dent over a box of cookies was not on her bucket list. You hand her the receipt, and before you can rush to the kitchen, Ellie exclaims, “When’s your break?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“W— um, when’s your break?” 

Your coworkers are suddenly very interested in Ellie, all four of them eyeing her like venomous hawks. Her cheeks burst into flames. 

“Um… I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” 

And you’re right. Anything involving you is short on Ellie; it was never her business, but a burning in the pit of her stomach desires to learn. Needs to catch you at the right time to give you a proper apology even though she doesn’t deserve the time of day. She doesn’t know what to say. 

You use her floundering as a scapegoat and hustle behind the slamming doors. Just as Ellie rushes to leave empty-handed, one of your employees — Abigail reads across her name-tag, keeps professional, but Ellie’s skin burns with the fire in her eyes. 

“We’ll have those right out for you,” monotone, but gruff. It makes Ellie wonder if you told any of them about her — she doesn’t doubt it. 

“You can wait outside.” 

One stiff nod, and Ellie’s booking it until her feet plant on the packed sidewalk, nearly bumping into a couple with interlocked hands. It takes 25 minutes for the box of cookies to be rigidly placed on the lounge table by another employee. Ellie scurries into her truck with a boiling face and pulls out into the road. 

When she makes it to her apartment, she eats three mini cheesecakes in one sitting.

She sees why they’re your favorite. 

The following week was filled with glares and curses from Dina and Riley — your newfound friends, evidently. They have a way of making Ellie feel like a worthless dunce. They both have rubbed in the tales of you being a thrill to be around; the life of the party whenever they hang out. 

It makes her nauseous. And sad. 

But her sadness swiftly shifts to bewilderment when she catches you smoking near a lamppost after closing. Still in your uniform with a bag over your shoulder, pants dusted in white, proof of your labor. It’s dark out, the only illumination coming from the light stood tall above you and the orange gleam of your cigarette. The sight shocks her. You didn’t seem like the type. 

Maybe that’s where Ellie went wrong with you: constantly assuming… who you are. Your desires, your intentions with her, her friends. She’ll admit her wrongs, of course. 

But it has to be to you. 

Ellie scares you when she approaches, inhaling the nicotine a bit too roughly because you start heaving. Shoulders hunched and jumping with every cough. 

“Uh — fuck, I’m sorry! I-I thought you could see me coming! I didn’t mean — fuck —“

You’re still choking, but you hiss in between, “What the fuck do you want!” 

“I’m just — I’m sorry about —“

“You’re not — cough — you’re not sorry! You made your point clear. I don’t why you keep — cough cough — following me. I left you alone like you wanted!” 

“I DON’T WANT THAT!” Ellie shrieks in panic. 

It’s a heavy-handed admission. A weighted confession that was said too aggressively given your flinching away from her. She takes an instinctive step forward. 

“Your cookies… tasted fucking incredible. I’m also an asshole.” 

The drag you take from your cig while she rambles is almost comedic. Brows cinched at the middle of your forehead, gauging her. You’re not convinced, but you’re not fleeing like the first time. She takes a leap, and a large step towards you. 

“I feel really… really bad,” Ellie’s much quieter, eyes unwavering and the softest she’s ever shown you, “I shouldn’t have… said all that. To you. I’m just so used to being harassed at work. I’m sorry.” 

Maybe nicotine calms you. Your body language isn’t as taut compared to when Ellie first initiated conversation, and your eyes soften at her reasoning. 

The rasp from your timbre melts her skin like butter. “I didn’t know you went through that. That sucks.”

Ellie shrugs, “I didn’t know you were… nice.” 

She made the mistake of attempting playfulness, “Maybe ‘cuz you wouldn’t let me talk.” You snark while ashing. 

“I’m sorry.” Ellie implores. 

You take one last drag before stomping out the flame. “Me too. For bothering you.” 

Ellie cringes at your choice of words, but nods in acceptance. “Are we, uh… okay, now?”

A small smile grows on your face. It’s cute. Makes your cheeks puff out like a hungry squirrel. 

“We’re good.” You extend a fist out to her, and she connects her own at the knuckles. 

When they drop, Ellie nervously stares at her shoes, “Do you want a ride home?” 

“I’m alright, thanks.” 

“C’mon, I don’t want you waiting out here by yourself.”

You pause before asking, “What’s the catch?” Your brow arches mischievously.

Ellie doesn’t hesitate, “More of those cookies.” 

A giggle escapes you. Soft and airy like a feather. Ellie feels a tight clench in her chest. A thumping from her ribcage. Has your smile always been this vibrant? She mentally kicks herself for not noticing before. 

Ellie escorts you to the passenger's side of her passed down pick-up: opens the door for you and makes sure you’re buckled in before starting it up. She learns you’re a metalhead when she cranks the radio to the highest volume. 

… How quickly can crushes develop? 

Two months. Ellie’s spent two months finding every excuse to spend time with you. She welcomes your visits to the record shop and silently thanks the heavens above when you call after her shift to talk about your day. Listening to your rambles about customers and their weekly cookies has become the highlight of hers. 

She’s also found comfort in watching you fail at playing guitar. You’re adorable whenever you strike an incorrect chord or break a string. She’s more than willing to guide you through your trials: late-night invites to her apartment to practice. One of your goals was to learn how to play the entire Vanara soundtrack. 

Ellie assumed she simply enjoyed being in your space. She does, but something shifted between you during one specific session. It was past midnight, and Ellie could tell you were getting tired. She innocently suggested for you to spend the night so you wouldn’t have to Uber at such a late hour, and you graciously accepted her offer. When you started to get comfortable on the couch, she tuts in disapproval and invited you to share her bed because it was more comfortable. 

What a mistake. 

After showering and changing into comfortable clothes, you both crawled into bed and swiftly drifted off. When Ellie’s eyes opened the following morning, her heart immediately traveled up to sit in her throat. If anyone told her she’d wake up with you completely sprawled out on top of her with your warm breath hitting her neck and her arms wrapped around you, she wouldn’t have believed them. She was completely frozen beneath you, but not for the reason she’d assumed. 

Ellie was scared to wake you up. Ellie was scared you would move away from her. 

She was pulled between waking you up and pulling you even closer. You were soft and warm and you smelled like her cinnamon body wash. A literal human cookie. She caressed your back as delicately as she could, and you nuzzled into her shoulder with every swipe. She hoped the harsh thrashes from her heart wouldn’t disturb you. 

They didn’t. 

You took a piece of Ellie when you left her apartment that morning. She’s not sure which part you stole, but she hasn’t felt the same since then. A pull towards you that’s electric, sparks her to life, keeps her up at night. Whenever you’re away, at work, not next to her, she’s desperate to pull you close. To breathe in the natural scent of you. 

Evidently, crushes develop rather quickly. 

“I thought baking was supposed to be fun.” Ellie huffs from where she lays on her bed. 

“It is fun! My favorite past-time, actually,” She watches you pace around her bedroom, guitar still strapped securely around your shoulder, “It’s just stressful when you have chefs constantly breathing down your neck. It’s so hard to be creative because they nitpick everything.” 

Creating a menu is much harder than Ellie assumed. She’s become the person you’ve come to whenever you’re fired up from classes, ranting and raving about the apparent dickheads that judge your creations. After testing your recipes for as long as she has, how could anyone turn down a dessert from you? 

You’re such a hard-worker. Focused, determined… pretty when you’re brainstorming. Pretty when you’re talking… Pretty when you’re smiling. Standing. Staring off into the distance. 

“Hm.” 

It’s all Ellie can say. She’s been trying to mask her rampant stares at your bare thighs for the past… however the fuck long. They look so soft. So pliable. So easy to stretch and pry and yank at— 

Her guilty pleasure went from collecting Pokémon cards to gawking at your legs whenever you wear shorts. 

Ellie’s definitely crushing. 

Crushing very, very hard. 

TWITTER LINKS!! ~JJK

MDI

◈ SATORU GOJO

⋆ 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵 ^-^

⋆ 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 o-o

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ^-^

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘴 <3

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 0~0

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 ^~^

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 <3

⋆ 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 v-v

⋆ 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 o-o

⋆ 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘴 'v'

◈ TOJI FUSHIGURO

⋆ 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘵 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 o-o

⋆ 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥 °v°

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦 ^-^

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘺 <3

⋆ 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 ^-^

⋆ 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 ＞-＜

◈ NANAMI KENTO

⋆ 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 ^-^

⋆ 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 >-<

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬 *~*

⋆ 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘴 ~v~

⋆ 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 ^-^

⋆ 𝘵𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘵 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘨𝘨 O-O

⋆ 𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩 -V-

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 '-'

◈ GETO SUGURU

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘷 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘺 ^-^

⋆ 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 >~<

⋆ 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 ^o^

⋆ 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥 ^~^

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘮 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴 O-O

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 *v*

⋆ 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 ^-^

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣 u-u

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘮𝘣 u~u

⋆ 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹 ~o~

⋆ 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 "v"

◈ RYOMEN SUKUNA

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘪 o~o

⋆ 𝘵𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘷 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘵 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 ＞~＜

⋆ 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 O~O

⋆ 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 2 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘴 ~w~

⋆ 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 ^-^

◈ SHIU KONG

⋆ 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 O-o

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 '~'

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 ^~^

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 ~o~

⋆ 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 ~v~

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 ^-^

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ^~^

⋆ 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 <3

⋆ 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 o-o

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘵 <3

◈ HIGURUMA HIROMI

⋆ 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 O-O

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 ^-^

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘴 ^o^

⋆ 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘦 *V*

⋆ 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 ^-^

⋆ 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 o~o

⋆ 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘥 ＞-＜

⋆ 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱 ^~^

⋆ 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 v-v

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 ~v~

⋆ 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 ^~^

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 vov

◈ CHOSO KAMO

⋆ 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘴 ^-^

⋆ 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴 ^0^

⋆ 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 v-v

⋆ 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 o~o

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 v0v

⋆ 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵 ^~^

⋆ 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 owo

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 v~v

⋆ 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 >-<

⋆ 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 /v\

⋆ 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 -o-

⋆ 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 <3

⋆ 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 •o•

part 2

₊˚ʚ 🫧 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ━ 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡

pairing: soft yandere!bakudekutodo x willing!reader

genre: fluff, poly au, pro hero, gender neutral reader

synopsis: there's nothing more relaxing than taking a nice, hot bubble bath when you have the entire apartment to yourself with your playlist playing and the bathroom door locked.

word count: 4.8k

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The apartment is quiet and empty for the entire day since this morning, and you seized the chance for some much needed alone time. SWV’s Rain is playing from your bluetooth speaker, set on a low volume, softly bouncing echoes around the bathroom walls. You dipped your fingers under the running tap to test the temperature.

Hot. Perfect.

Smiling and humming to yourself, you pour in the scented bubble bath. As the bubbles formed a delicate, foamy blanket covering the tub, you turned off the tap.

You strip off your robe and sink slowly into the piping hot bubble bath. You let out a sigh of relief as you submerged your entire body into the bathtub, keeping your head above water. Thanks to your boyfriends’ unrelenting remodeling of the entire house, especially the bathroom, your bathtub is now big enough to be a sensory pod. You closed your eyes  and let out another relaxing sigh, letting your body float and sway with the water.

“Fuck…” you moan. “I really needed this.”

You can’t remember the last time you had a bubble bath let alone the apartment all to yourself. Your boyfriends had to leave super early in the morning, leaving you alone once again. You wished you could enjoy your days out like before, but you had a feeling your boyfriends would tie you to the bed and never let you out ever again. Though you did have sun, or as much fun as you could, running small errands.

“I fucking love bubble baths!” you yell, splashing around and pumping your fist.

After floating and soaking in the comforting scent, you raise up and reach for your new book you bought this afternoon. You lean back and sigh again.

“Haah… this is the shit right here. All alone, 90’s R&B playing, and the latest new smut to hit the shelves for desperate housewives.”

You flip open the book and begin to read:

“In the barn where the shadows danced along the wooden walls, she walked alone, veiled in candle light. Her heart beat in a melodic rhythm longing to have a partner join in.”

“Ooh~. A spicy slow burn~.”

You continued reading, losing yourself in the novel and feeling your muscles relax in the water. For a while, nothing else existed but you, your hot bubble bath, your music, and the story unfolding in your hands.

That is, until you heard the front door of the apartment open and close. You lowered your book a bit and listened out for the sounds of who came home. You’re immediately dreading the inevitable. There’s a good reason you wanted to take this bath alone. You heard a voice call softly. The master bathroom is a bit far from the entrance. Soft beats of feet quickly turned into panicked thuds. Thuds that sounded like running. The thuds came to a halt outside the bathroom door and the doorknob jiggled stiffly/ You must’ve locked the door on instinct.

“(Y/N)?” A gentle but panicked voice called out, a bit muffled. Izuku Midoriya, the number one hero of Japan. You smile to yourself, hearing his worry. The man can knock down a building using only his pinky but can look so cute while doing it. His baby face doesn’t match his buff and scarred body and you often tease him about it, calling him the baby-faced hero.

‘It’s rare that he’s home first. That’s surprising…’ you think to yourself. A knock brought you out of your thoughts.

“Baby… are you in there?” he asked, sounded even more worried the longer you stayed silent. There’s no point in staying silent. Not only is the locked door a dead giveaway that you’re in here, but Lauryn Hill’s Ex-Factor is echoing throughout the bathroom.

“Yeah, baby. I'm in here.” you answer. “How was your day? It’s rare that you’re the first one home.”

“Oh! Good. And yeah! Things ended early at the agency so I came home as soon as I could.”

Jiggle Jiggle

“Oh really? That’s even rarer! You’re really lucky.”

Jiggle Rattle Jiggle

“Yeah! And I have even tomorrow off so we can spend all morning sleeping in together!”

Rattle Rattle Jiggle

“That’ll be fun! It’s been a while since you had a day off.”

BANG

There’s a pause on the other side of the door.

“Baby…” His voice is quiet. “Why is the door locked?”

“Because I’m in here?” you chuckle at the question. “I’m taking a bubble bath.”

“Oh, I see.” It got quiet again. “Can you come out please?”

You sigh, knowing this would happen eventually but you thought you’d be done and at least clothed. Izuku is the clingiest one out of your boyfriends, a close second to a certain icy-hottie. “I would, buuut I just got in and it’s a bit ridiculous to get out the tub, dry off, welcome you home, and get back in the tub.”

“I can get in the bathtub with you!” Izuku is no longer turning the doorknob. It sounds more like he’s pushing his weight onto the door.

“Izuku, I would really like some alone time right now.”

“What.” His tone sounded somewhere between hurt and distressed. “Are you saying you don’t want to be with me? What’re you doing in there? Are you doing something that you don’t want me to see? Why would you have the door locked in our house? What’re you hiding from me? I don’t like secrets, (Y/N). (Y/N)? Open the door. Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you really hiding something from me? You can open the door for me, right? If you can open the door that means that you have nothing to hide, right? I want to hug you and kiss you so much. Don’t you want to kiss me too? Don’t you love me anymore? Open the door please…!”

Loud banging rattled the walls as Izuku forcefully tried to get in the bathroom, muttering his feelings out loud. You, on the other hand, remained calm. You’ve dealt with this situation before and knew how to handle his spirals. You also know that the door isn’t going to budge even with Japan's strongest hero banging down on it.

“Hey Izu?” you called out, sweetly. “You’re not trying to use your quirk to break down the door, are you?”

The banging and rattling immediately stopped and was followed by a long pause.

“H-Huh?”

“Right. You wouldn’t do that because you know that during the remodeling you replaced all the doors and windows with a specific material that can’t be broken or shattered by any quirk including abnormal strength quirks, right?” You try to mask your teasing tone, but can’t help but slyly smile, imagining the embarrassed look on his face.

“N-No! I mean yes! I do remember that…” he mumbled sheepishly.

You stifle a giggle. Izuku is always fun to tease. “Zuzu. How about we make a deal?”

“A deal?”

“Yeah. If you set a time for an hour I promise, even when the rest of the boys come home first, you will be the first one to get welcome home hugs and kisses.”

This is a big deal in the apartment. It’s become routine that when the boys come home you greet them with a hug and kisses. Normally, only a certain hothead has been the reigning champion of that routine since they’re always the first one home. Izuku has always wanted to be the first one home so he can love you first, but his schedule never gave him the opportunity, having to settle for second place and, sometimes, third place. You can tell from the happy mumblings behind the door that he’s ecstatic about it, however…

“An hour? I don’t know if I can wait for an hour.” he whined.

You hum and think for a minute. “Okay, how about 45 minutes? You can get started on dinner so the time goes by faster. I’d really love it if you made me your delicious Karaage.”

“Okay! It’s a promise! I’ll get started right away!” You can hear the excitement in his voice as his footsteps headed towards the kitchen.

You laugh lightly at your goofy boyfriend and relax back into the tub, reopening your book.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Time passed and you are at a particularly steamy moment in the novel –

“Farmhand Ben ran his calloused fingers through her hair – his hot breath causing a shiver to run down her spine. This feeling was new to Dorothy. Sparks of heat were radiating from her womanhood that couldn’t be smothered by the stormy flood that soaked her cotton panties. Her nipples stood erect at the scent of a dominant man’s musk.”

“...Her what now?”

Suddenly, the front door slammed shut and heavy and impatient footsteps could be heard throughout the apartment. You jump at the sudden noise only to calm down once you recognize the shouting – Bakugou Katsuki, your second boyfriend and Japan’s number two hero. His shouts can be heard all the way to the bathroom. Again, the kitchen and the master bathroom is far so the fact you could hear him only made it more prominent how loud he’s being. You roll your eyes when you hear him shout at Izuku.

“Oi! (Y/N)! Where the hell are you?!”

Normally, Bakugou is the first one home so it’s become routine that you’re the first one he sees and he’s the first one to receive a welcome home hug and kiss. He always brags about it to make the others jealous.

You groan inwardly. You love your boyfriend, but sometimes he’s too damn loud. Before you could respond, Bakugou’s already in front of the bathroom door, hammering and rattling the door and doorknob harder than Izuku had. Izuku must’ve told him where you were.

“Welcome home, Katsuki.” you greet nonchalantly. 

“Don’t fuck with me! What the hell’re you doing in there with the door locked?!” he asked, his voice full of aggression and annoyance. Typical Bakugou.

“I’m doing my taxes.”

“(Y/N).” he warned.

“I’m taking a bubble bath, Katsuki.”

“Why the hell are you taking a bath?!”

“Um, to smell good obviously.”

“Then why don’t you take a shower, dumbass?!”

“I’m not having this argument with you again!”

Another big bang came from behind the door.

“Get the hell out here! I want my hugs and kisses!” he demanded.

“I’m kinda naked and wet right now!”

“You’re always fucking wet and naked!”

Blushing, you stuttered and quickly changed the subject. “D-Didn’t you yell at Izu yesterday for tracking water on the bathroom floor after his shower?”

“That’s different! That shitty nerd can barely dry his hair and he’s always wandering around the house half-dry!”

You sigh heavily and lean back, resting your head against the edge of the tub. You refuse to let his temper ruin your mood. “Well, I’m not done yet. I’ll give you a proper ‘welcome home’ when I’m done, okay? Just be patient.”

A tense silence filled the air only lightened a bit by your music before he spoke again. “I’m not in the mood to be ignored, babe.”

“I’m not ignoring you! I just want to take a bubble bath in peace.”

You hear the muffled popping of his quirk against the door. Bakugou is a very needy person. Clingy and needy might sound the same, but between Izuku and Bakugou it’s a huge difference. Izuku is the clingy type in the same sense that he pleads and holds onto you 24/7 begging for kisses and whispering ‘i love you’s’ all day long. Bakugou is the needy type to where if you forget to give him a kiss once he’ll have a temper tantrum and demand double kisses and never let you forget it again. Whatever he wants is a need and whatever he needs he wants. You sigh again quietly hearing the muffled booms get louder and louder, the slight smell of smoke seeping into the bathroom.

“Hey Katsuki?”

“Hah?!”

“I’d really love it if you made us your spicy ramen for dinner tonight.”

“Haah?!!”

“If you make it, I promise that as soon as I’m done I’ll give you double the kisses and sit on your lap during dinner.”

There was a pause as the booms came to a stop. “You promise?”

“I promise.” you reassure.

He let out a huff. “Tch, fine! But you better keep your damn promise! Or I’m busting this damn door down!”

With that, he stormed off, grumbling loudly under his breath. You knew he wouldn’t really break down the door. Not only because it was an idle threat, but also because after Izuku made the windows and doors virtually unbreakable, he hired someone to make the doors fire retardant as well. You remember him calling Izuku an idiot for not thinking about the “obvious”. You returned back to your book, raising the volume of Mary J. Blige’s I’m Going Down slightly to drown out Bakugou’s yelling.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You lost track of time as you continued to read your novel, nearly reaching the end:

“Dorothy ran away from the ranch that night. Ran away from the barn where she became a woman. Ran away from Farmhand Ben. Ran away from the only place she ever called home. She couldn’t describe the betrayal she felt nor the heartbreak that racked her body. Heavy rain poured down on Dorothy’s small frame, soaking her white attire. She ran far on the winding dirt road, her breasts bobbing boobily with every bounce. Her nipples twirling–”

“Okay, what the actual fuck am I reading? Who the fuck wrote this?” You look at the front and back of the book. “T.I.A Morison? …There’s no picture either? Oh my god, this was written by a fucking man, wasn’t it?!”

“(Y/N), are you in there?” A soft voice called out to you, surprising you from your rant. Shoto Todoroi, your third boyfriend, is finally home. You were so wrapped up in this shitty smut that you didn’t hear the front door or his footsteps approaching the bathroom door.

“Oh, yeah Shoto. I’m in the bath,” you answer, placing your book down on the floor. “Welcome home.”

“I’m home.”

“...”

“...”

“Shoto?” you called out, wondering why he’s being silent. “Do you need something?”

“I need you.” he answered, quickly and bluntly.

You laugh. “I’m taking a bubble bath right now, honey. Can you wait until I finish?”

He pauses before speaking again. “I heard you talking about a man.”

“Oh yeah.” you grumbled, thinking to yourself that you should return the book tomorrow.

“Why?”

“Um…”

“Are you thinking of other men? Why were you shouting about another man? Is that why the door is locked?”

You sigh to yourself. Shoto is the most obsessive out of the other two with a big mix of clingy and needy. He’d burn down an apartment building at the slightest mention of you being chilly. He’s actually the one that “suggested” that you stay at home. Well, his actual first suggestion is to keep you locked in the bedroom so you won’t get hurt wandering the apartment. 

“Answer me, (Y/N).” An icey bitterness blows from under the door and sends a chill down your spine, making you sink a little deeper into the now lukewarm water.

“Woah, calm down, honey.” you soothe. “I was just talking about the author of this novel I’m reading. Clearly there are men walking this earth that don’t know a goddamn thing about female anatomy!” You’re getting riled up thinking about the paragraph.

“So… you aren’t thinking about men?”

“Absolutely not. You, Katsuki, and Izuku are all I think about.”

“Prove it.”

“Um… prove what?”

“Prove that you weren’t thinking about another man. Show me the book.”

“Haah… Shoto, baby… I know that’s just a ploy to get me to open the door, but I promise that once I’m done, I’ll show you the book so that you can burn it because honestly it’s not even worth the hassle of returning it.”

“...”

“Shoto?”

“I don’t like this.”

“Hm? Don’t like what?”

“Talking to this door and… only hearing your voice. I want to see you and touch you and hold you when we talk. I don’t like it when you’re away from me.” he explained, a pleading tone evident in his voice. “It makes me… anxious.”

You feel a bit guilty. Shoto’s always the last one home so he’s always in last place to everything happening in the relationship. Cuddles, kisses, hand holding, movie nights, dinner times, date nights, etc.. Even though he never mentioned it, you always got the feeling he felt left out when it came to together and alone time since Bakugou and Izuku would swoop up and steal you. Especially during bedtime.

“I’m sorry, Sho. I didn’t mean to make you anxious.” you apologize. “To make it up to you, I will… cuddle you for the next 3 nights and make you your favorite food for those days as well. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“You promise?” he asked, his voice soft.

“I promise.” you replied.

Just then, rapid footsteps approached the door.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! It’s been 45 minutes! Remember your promise!” Izuku announced, knocking impatiently.

“Yeah yeah! Okay, I’m getting out now.”

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You emerged from the bedroom and walked into the living room, fully dried off and wearing Shoto’s shirt with your comfy dolphin shorts. You smile seeing all your boyfriends setting up the table in their own casual pajamas. Thank goodness this apartment had more than one bathroom. Once Katsuki notices you, he groans and rolls his eyes, making his way to you.

“Fucking finally! Thought you were gonna be in there all night!” He raises his arms to hug you, but you stop him.

“Nuh-uh.” You step aside.

“Huh?! The fuck you mean “nuh-uh”?!”

“Izuku got home first and I promised him that I would greet him first.”

You walk up and hug your smiley freckled boyfriend. Katsuki clicked his tongue.

“Shitty Deku! Don’t think you’re hot shit just ‘cause you got home first! If I weren’t busy dealing with idiots and shitty villains, I’d be home first! I’ll be here first tomorrow so fall back behind me, shitnerd!”

“I just got lucky to get home first, Kacchan. Don’t be selfish.” Izuku responded calmly with a smirk. He cupped your cheek and placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I missed you…” he murmured into your shoulder, placing soft kisses along your clavicle.

“It was only 45 minutes, silly.” you say with a laugh. “But I missed you too.”

Izuku raised his face to look at you with a soft look in his eyes that still had a hint of neediness in them. “Yeah, but it felt like forever…” he mumbled, reluctantly letting you after a few minutes. 

Katsuki stared at you intensely as you approached him. He hates being in second place, especially to Izuku. His usual scowl fixed to his face, but you know deep down he’s just as eager to get a kiss from you as the others.

“Took you long enough, dumbass.” he grumbled, his hands immediately settling on your waist and pulling you in close.

You roll your eyes playfully and wrap your arms around his neck. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He clicked his tongue and leaned in close, his lips barely touching yours. “Damn right, you should be.” he muttered, his expression softening as he leaned in for a kiss. His kisses are rough and demanding, but have an unmistakable sense of warmth and neediness. As promised, you gave him double the kisses which he took full advantage of, taking his chances to shoot boastful glares at a jealous Izuku. When he finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead against yours and stared lovingly in your eyes.

“Lock me out again and I’ll destroy every damn door in this place, got it?” he ordered, his voice taking on a commanding tone.

“Got it.” you whisper back, giving him one last peck on the nose before moving onto Shoto.

Shoto’s gaze remains unwavering as you approach him, his heterochromatic eyes staring deeply into your soul. He didn’t say a word, just simply grabbed onto your waist with a firm grasp.

“I’m home.” he whispered softly, possessiveness in his tone as he smiled at you. Before you can greet him back, he quickly leaned in and captured your lips with a slow, deep kiss that left you breathless. His cool fingers traced the line down your back causing a shiver to run down your spine. He chucked against your lips, savoring the shivers from your body pressed against him. When he pulled back, he buried his face in your neck. “Next time, let me in with you. I can’t stand being away from you too long.”

You chuckle softly and nod. “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With all three of them satisfied – at least for now – you pulled away and looked at your chefs for tonight’s dinner.

“Now, can we eat?” you ask, licking your lips. “I’m starving and the food smells soo good.”

Izuku nods eagerly, his eyes brightening. “Yes, of course! I hope you like it! I tried really hard to make it extra yummy for you!”

Bakugou sucked his teeth and crossed his arms. “If it tastes like shit, I’m killing you, shitty nerd!”

You giggle lightly at the banter happening between two of your boyfriends and take a seat next to Bakugou as promised, which made him smirk in silent pride. He nearly pulled you into his lap, that’s how close he wanted you next to him. However, you weren’t focused on that. You were focused on the delicious aroma of fried chicken and spicy ramen that filled the living room. The combination of food in front of you makes your mouth water and the table is soon filled with the chattering of chopsticks and the satisfied slurps and hums of approval.

“Mm! You really outdid yourself, Izu!” you exclaim between bites, munching eagerly on the chicken. “This is amazing!”

“I’m glad you like it! I tried my best!” Izuku beamed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

Katsuki huffed. “It’s not that amazing. It’s under-seasoned and the chicken is chewy as hell.”

Yet, you saw that he continued to eat the non-amazing chicken. “Aww~! Are you jealous, Ka-tsu-ki~?” you tease.

A bright red blush covered Bakugou’s cheeks and the tip of ears. “H-Hah?! Fucking no!”

“I love your spicy ramen too, Katsuki. You’re such an amazing chef.” Sometimes it helps to stroke his ego to yield his jealousy.

Bakugou huffed again, clearly pleased with your praise, but trying to play it off. “Of course it’s good. I made it, didn’t I?”

You laugh at his tsundere-like response, but before you could tease him anymore, Izuku interjected. “So, how was your day, (Y/N)? What did you do while we were out?”

“Oh, not much.” you answer, taking a bit of spicy ramen. “Just ran a few errands, went to the bookstore, not much else.”

They all stopped immediately and gave you varying looks of surprise and concern.

Shoto raises his eyebrow. “You went outside?”

“Mhm.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah, but just for a bit.” you reassure, already sensing the possessiveness radiating from them. “Plus, I wasn’t gone all day. Maybe 2 or 3 hours max and just to a couple of stores.”

Each of your boyfriends exchanged knowing looks as you continued.

“Oh! I also ran into Sero and Kaminari while I was out.”

That set them off. Izuku’s eyes darkened at the mention of their names, small lines of smoke rose from Shoto, and Bakugou scowled harshly, snapping his chopsticks in half and pulling you closer to him tightly.

“Those two extra?” Bakugou growled irritably. “What the fuck did they want with you?”

“They just said hi and asked how everyone was doing,” you tell them, shrugging. “Oh! And Kaminari said that there’s going to be a drinking party this Friday and they want you to come, Katsuki. He said Mina, Kirishima, and Ochako are gonna be there too–”

“Fuck that!” he spat. “Why the hell would I want to waste my time with those bastards when I can come home and drink for free and be with people I actually care about?!”

“Aw Bakubabe–”

“Shut the fuck up, Icy-hot!”

“Well, they knew you would say that so they told me to tell you that they're gonna go ahead and reserve the restaurant anyway. They didn’t tell me the name because they were afraid you’d call and cancel, but they did say that it was a place that had your credit card on file.”

Tiny sparks popped from Bakugou’s clenched fist, burning his broken chopsticks. “Those damn bastards…”

Shoto’s expression remained neutral, but the grip on his chopsticks tightened, freezing it nearly solid. “I don’t like the idea of you going out alone.” Shoto said firmly.

Izuku, trying to stay calm but visibly anxious, chimed in as well. “I agree with Todoroki! W-What if something happened to you and we couldn’t get to you? There’s been an increase in villain attacks lately and I’d never forgive myself if–”

“Woah there, Zuzu. Breathe, all of you. Nothing happened I swear. I was careful and made sure to stay in the safe areas. Besides, I’m pretty capable of defending myself with all the stuff you guys gave me. The pepper spray, taser, pocket knives, mace, bear mace, brass knuckles, brass knuckles with a taser in it–”

“W-What?! I never gave you any of that stuff!”

“I gave it to them. You can never be too cautious with these fucking people.” Katsuki grumbled, his grip tightening on your thigh.

“Katsuki’s right. And I promise, it was just a quick trip. I just didn’t want to be cooped up inside all day. I really don’t mind staying inside, but I really had an itch to go outside today. I’ve even read every book in this house, even the manual for the dishwasher, refrigerator, and toaster oven which is why I went to the bookstore. Oh, that reminds me. Shoto sweetie, I need you to burn a book for me.”

Bakugou grumbled something under his breath, still clearly annoyed, but he didn’t push it further since the bigger problem of Sero and Kaminari abusing his card in a random restaurant made him angrier. Shoto’s gaze lingered on you a bit longer before he sighed and nodded, accepting your explanation.

“Wait… burn your book?”

To ease the tension, Izuku quickly perked up. “Oh! I know! Since I’m off tomorrow, if you want, how about we go on a date? Just the two of us.” His eyes sparkled with excitement.

You smile at him. “We haven’t been out together in a while. I’d love that.”

“Yay! It’s a date!” he exclaimed, giddy with anticipation.

The rest of dinner became relaxed again as you all talked about your day, the current hero gossip, and the latest on villain activity in the city.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

After dinner, you all heated to bed. As promised, you cuddled up next to Shoto, who’s already lying under the covers waiting for you. He pulled you into his embrace the moment you slipped into bed, his blend of cool and hot soothing you.

“I’ve been looking forward to this since dinner.” Shoto whispered against your ear, his breath tickling your neck and sending shivers down your spine. His grip on you is firm, almost like he’s staking his claim on you, but there’s a gentleness in how he holds you close.

You snuggled closer into him, feeling his heartbeat steady against your back. “I promised, didn’t I?” you murmured back, smiling.

Meanwhile, Izuku and Bakugou stood at the foot of the bed, looking at you two with a mixture of resignation and jealousy. Izuku pouted, clearly wanting to be the one holding you and Bakugou just crossed his arms, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Tch! You’re hogging them, you icy-hot bastard.” Katsuki complained.

Shoto simply closed his eyes, content with having you in his arms. “You’ll get your turn in 3 days.” he sighed calmly.

“What the hell?!”

“3 days?! That’s not fair!”

“A promise is a promise, Zuku. Don’t be selfish.” you say, throwing his words back at him.

It was Izuku’s turn to huff with a pout. He climbed into bed, facing you while Bakugou settled in behind him. “Fine,” he grumbled, a pout on his adorable lips. “but I’m not letting you get away with this again.” He reached out his hand to gently touch your, interlocking your fingers with his. Katsuki grunted in agreement, sleep taking over him.

As the night grew quiet, the soft sound of their breathing lulled you to sleep. Shoto’s arms were wrapped securely around you and Izuku intimately held your hand even in deep sleep. Bakugou’s soft snoring even sounded melodic. Their combined warmth surrounded you in a cocoon of affection.

Maybe next time you’ll invite them to your next bubble bath.

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

a/n: making my first poly mha fanfic so i hope i did good! also trying out a new new style and format so let me know if you like it! my inbox is open so if you have a suggestion, shoot me one. i'm not the best at answering, but i do my best!♡

you and megumi are friends. close friends – or, for lack of better words, some might say soulmates (which you believe is an over exaggeration). but ever since the both of you met, everyone assumed you were dating for some odd reason. 

they’d say things like, ‘you guys are so physical with each other.’ or, ‘you guys look at each other like you’re in love.’ there was also a time where one of your friends met megumi for the first time and mentioned something about both of you glancing at each other and then laughing when someone said something odd? yes, you understood what they were talking about but how does that mean you guys were dating? 

either way, you and him paid no mind to it. besides, even if you did feel some sort of way for megumi, you’re sure he wouldn’t feel the same. it would be weird for the two of you to start suddenly dating when you’ve known each other for so long. 

megumi’s friends are worse though.

they swear that he’s in love with you. they tease him about it all the time to the point where he’s so used to it. every time you hug him goodbye when his friends are over, behind your back, here goes nobara and yuji making kissy faces just to taunt him even more. 

they always tell him that he’s “never looked at a girl the way you look at her.”

and maybe that might be true. 

with your legs hanging over the bathroom sink, you sit on the cold surface, applying the face mask to his face, being careful to avoid his eyes and lips. he’s standing, hands pressed on either sides of the sink. if you looked down, you could see the prominent veins on his arm from the force he’s using to lean them on the sink. 

his breaths are soft, and you’re close enough to see just how long his eyelashes are as they gently graze your fingers while you continue to apply the mask on his face. 

“all done,” you smile, “you can open your eyes now.”

at the sound of you voice, his eyes fluttered open, blinking a couple of times, smiling at you before moving to the side to see his reflection past your body. once he gets a glimpse of his face though, the dark haired boy frowns. 

“i look stupid,”  he deadpans. 

you giggle at the slight pout he has on his face, “you don’t, ‘gumi.” you place both hands on his shoulders before sliding them gently on either side of his neck. “you look like you take care of yourself. y’know, like a prince being pampered.” 

megumi smiles at that. his heart flutters a bit and he doesn’t know why and he can’t help but rub his hands up your thighs, his silent way of saying thank you. his smile only deepens when you spread your arms around his shoulders once again. 

anyone watching you both with no context might think you two were a couple, which are megumi’s exact thoughts. but even so, the thought of that makes his heart race; he finds that he wouldn’t mind if people thought this way.

he wonders if you can head his heart pounding outside his rib cage right now. 

so, as a weak attempt to ignore the ache in his chest, he says, “you got my shirt dirty.” 

“your fault for letting me wear it.” you smirk, “also, time’s up. you gotta wash your mask off now.”

you hop off the sink, searching though the cabinets to find where he put the washcloths. and megumi finds it endearing — you make yourself feel at home in his environment and he’s realized that’s all he ever wanted. 

“thank you for this,” he says, genuine. you pause for a second, wondering where the sudden seriousness came from. “what would i do without you?”

a teasing smile found its way on your lips as you finally find the washcloths and turn the sink on to soak them in water. “maybe have dry skin.”

and he laughs; an airy one that’s so contagious that you can’t help but smile up at him through the mirror. it melts your heart, the stoic and calculating megumi fushiguro laughing openly at a little remark you made. 

“oh?” he hums, hands wrapping around your waist and turning off the tap of the mirror.  “‘s that so?” 

his eyes didn’t leave your face for even a second, watching as you continued to soak and rinse the wash cloths. it all seems so natural, him casually having his arms around you and he swears you stiffen.

you turn, back leaning on the sink you were previously sitting on before gently nodding, “here,” you whisper gently, dabbing the wet cloth on his face. “you have to do it gently or it might irritate your sensitive skin.” 

it makes him wonder — you know so much about him. from his favorite foods, shows on tv and songs, to what irritates his skin. you know when he is and isn’t feeling comfortable. you know his schedule just as well as you do the back of your hand. 

so why don’t you know that when you look at him like that it does things to his heart?

“why do you look at me like that?” he whispers almost wistfully. 

and just like that he feels you stiffen again, and he winces when he realizes it’s not the type that makes your heart race with butterflies, “like what?” you cock your head to the side, that familiar smile that megumi has grown to fall in love with still evident on your face. 

like you want to fall in love with me, silly. 

he shakes his head, “nevermind.” 

you and megumi are close friends. and as much as megumi thinks about how you both could be so much more than the best friend title, he believes that he’d rather stay best friends than lose you to his sappy feelings. 

reblogs and interaction are always appreciated!

— come a little closer

hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]

synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.

content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.

fic soundtrack: i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi

author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, whose rare to come by these days.

Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.

In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.

Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.

Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.

You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.

She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.

The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.

And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.

The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.

With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.

She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.

“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”

You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.

The step creaks under pure muscle.

Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.

The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.

But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.

It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.

“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.

Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.

“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.

“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.

And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.

“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”

She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.

You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.

“________,” you offer.

She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.

“And you go to school here?” she asks.

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.

“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”

Vi’s floored.

“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.

“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”

“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”

You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.

“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”

“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.

And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.

Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.

“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.

No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.

The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.

You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.

“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.

“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”

“So?”

“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”

Her teammate snorts.

“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”

The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.

Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.

From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.

“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”

Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.

“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.

“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.

“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”

And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.

Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.

You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.

“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.

Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.

The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.

“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.

“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”

“I am.”

“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.

Vi could melt.

“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”

“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.

Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.

“You’re fucking joking!”

The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Maddie,” you whisper.

“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.

“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”

“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”

You look around in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”

“What else would she— are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”

It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”

You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.

Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.

If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.

Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.

“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.

“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”

Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.

Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.

“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.

Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.

“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.

It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.

You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.

“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.

“Huh?”

Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.

“Am I going too fast?”

“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”

You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.

Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.

You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.

You decide to fold your cards first.

“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”

No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”

You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.

“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”

She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.

“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”

And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.

But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you’re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.

You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.

Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.

You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.

A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.

When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.

Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.

The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.

“Violet.”

Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.

She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.

“V—”

“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”

“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”

Vi’s smile is crooked.

“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”

“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?

You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.

She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.

“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.

You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.

“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.

“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.

“Sure, anything.”

“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”

And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.

Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.

“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.

You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.

“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”

Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.

It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.

“Hungry?” you ask.

“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.

Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”

Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.

“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.

You shake your head.

“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.

It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.

“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”

Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.

“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”

“God, marry me now.”

She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.

“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.

“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”

Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.

“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”

You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.

“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.

“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.

You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.

“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”

And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You’re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.

That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”

“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.

“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.

You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.

If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.

“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”

Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.

You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.

“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.

But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.

Cute. So fucking cute.

You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.

“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”

You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.

“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”

And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.

“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.

You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.

“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”

“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”

She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.

“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”

You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.

“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.

“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”

It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.

Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.

“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.

“Vi,” you whimper.

And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.

She resists a smile.

“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”

You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.

Test the waters, cop a feel.

Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.

She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.

“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.

“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.

Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.

“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”

You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.

Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.

Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.

It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.

It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.

5—4.

The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.

She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.

You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.

They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.

Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.

The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.

“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.

Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.

“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.

Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.

So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.

She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.

“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.

“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.

She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.

“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”

You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.

“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”

She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.

Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.

“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.

When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.

You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.

She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.

“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.

It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.

You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.

You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.

“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.

“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”

“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.

She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.

“Leave it.”

Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.

The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.

She winks.

You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.

You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.

You should come, I can pick you up.

But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.

Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!

“Yeah?”

Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.

“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.

Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.

You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.

You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.

“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.

Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.

“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—

“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”

You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.

“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.

“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”

It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.

You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.

“You okay?” she hums.

Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.

You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.

When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.

You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.

You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.

Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.

As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.

You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.

“What do you like to do?” she asks you.

All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.

“Uh.”

Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.

But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.

Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.

“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”

“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”

And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”

It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.

She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.

She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.

It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.

“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.

She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.

And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.

“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”

Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.

You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.

“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.

“Can I?” she husks.

You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.

Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.

Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.

You’re staring, hard.

Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.

She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.

You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.

“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”

Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”

She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”

Your heartbeat skips.

“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.

Vi’s grinning wide.

“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”

And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.

It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.

“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”

“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.

“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”

“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”

“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”

“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.

“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.

“I admit it was a little strange, but—”

“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”

And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.

You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”

And you’re running.

Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.

She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.

sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.

I’ll see you next week.

But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.

She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.

She sighs. Hard.

You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.

It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.

violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3

You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

.

.

.

Then you add, We can smoke.

Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.

You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.

Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.

She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.

“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.

It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.

You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.

Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.

“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.

“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.

“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.

Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.

This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.

“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”

“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.

“Like?”

“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”

You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.

“Uh-huh?”

“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”

You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.

Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.

You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.

“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”

You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.

“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”

And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.

Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.

“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”

She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.

“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”

I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—

“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”

Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”

One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.

“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”

Oh.

Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.

“But?”

The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.

“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”

“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”

“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”

Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.

“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”

And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.

“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”

“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”

Your breath catches.

“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.

“Why?”

“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”

“You really believe that?”

“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”

Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.

“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”

And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.

“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.

You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.

“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”

It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.

“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.

Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.

You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.

sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.

She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.

Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.

And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.

It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.

“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.

“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.

“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.

Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.

“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”

You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

sev.94 has requested to follow you! sev.94 has sent you a message request!

Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.

sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this. sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is sev.94 sent a video. sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.

You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.

You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.

She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.

“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.

“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”

Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.

It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.

This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.

You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.

And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.

You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.

xxxx: i really miss you.

You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.

You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.

“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”

You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.

“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”

Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.

“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”

You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.

“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.

The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.

You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.

The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.

Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.

“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”

You humph.

“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”

“And that’s my problem because...?”

“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”

“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”

“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”

You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”

Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.

“Violet’s in love with you.”

And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.

“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.

“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she’s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”

“There’s a video.”

Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.

Her reaches a palm out.

Show me.

You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.

She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.

Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.

She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.

“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”

The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.

Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.

It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.

And there, front and center of the student section is you.

Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.

At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.

“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”

Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.

“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.

And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.

7—5.

The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.

She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.

Her bracelet.

You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.

Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.

Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.

“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.

“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.

Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”

Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.

She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.

“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.

“Hi,” you squeak.

A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.

And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.

“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”

You swallow.

“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”

You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.

“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.

“I know.”

She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.

“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”

Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.

“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”

“I don’t,” you admit.

Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.

“We could start off with the obvious.”

One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.

“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”

You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.

“Vi.”

“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.

She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.

“Pl—ease.”

“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”

“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.

The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.

Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”

“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”

“Oh–”

One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.

You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.

Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.

“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.

Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.

“Fuck.”

“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.

And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”

“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.

“Vi.”

Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”

You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.

And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.

She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.

“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.

You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.

She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.

You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.

“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”

Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.

“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.

“Nnngh, fuck!”

“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”

“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”

She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.

“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.

And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.

Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”

You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”

“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”

She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.

The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.

It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.

Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.

“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”

She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.

You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.

You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.

“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.

“I know, I know.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.

You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.

You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.

But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.

The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.

You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.

You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.

She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”

You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.

“Thought you left,” you croak.

Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.

“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”

You whine.

“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”

Violet groans.

“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.

“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.

“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.

Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.

She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.

And frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

neng © 2024

Inspired by @//wake-uptoreality!!

I can't find the artist of these adorable images so plzzz tell if you know <//3

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