#I know Vi is kinda vulnerable in this

[vimylove]

When I Fall Down (You Pick Me Up)

Hey y'all. Welcome to my first Arcane fic.

Summary: When Vi is too drunk to get home, a familiar face helps her out.

Read it on Ao3 here.

OR

Below if you prefer Tumblr.

Concrete is hard.

Which, yeah, no shit. Vi already knew that. Has crashed into, been thrown into, and punched enough of it to know. It had just kinda, slipped her mind until right now. Until she's stumbling around, vision blurry, lights too bright, voices too loud. Until she trips on who fucking knows what and falls into it. Until her head bounces off it with a sickening crack, and her vision whites out. Until her back collides with it and she has no choice but to slide down. Lands in a heap on the ground, and has no choice but to stay there.

Thinks she might throw up if she tried to move right now. Cheap alcohol sloshes in her stomach, threatens to come back up. And she knows from past experience that however much it burnt going down will be a hundred times worse on the way back up. So she doesn't try to stand, doesn't even fight gravity when her swimming vision causes her to slump. Just falls into it, grunts when her head once again smacks into hard concrete. Ignores the pain in favor of keeping all the shots she did in her stomach.

Hears voices, too loud voices, all around her. Hears someone laughing too loud and someone else yelling about who knows what. Can't bring herself to focus on it, to care. Her head pounds, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe because of the two solid hits it just took. Doesn't matter much either way. It fucking hurts. Presses a hand to the back, where she can already feel a knot forming. There's blood on her hand when she pulls it away. Not that she cares much, this isn't the first time she's bled tonight. The cut above her eyebrow from fighting earlier busts open every so often, just to remind her it's there. Just to drip warm, sticky blood into her eye.

Hears footsteps too. She follows them as best she can. Hears someone come out of a building, hears the door bang shut behind them. Hears them walk away. Hears what sounds like a child running, laughing, and the telltale thud that means they're kicking a ball. Powder and her used to do that sometimes. Mylo stole a ball from who knows where, and they used to kick it back and forth in the open area in front of The Last Drop. It was as close to Before, Before their parents died, as they got After. It was a chance for Powder to be a kid, and that was all Vi ever wanted.

For her to just be a kid.

Hears footsteps going this way and that. Tries to follow them as best she can but focusing is hard, and makes her head hurt more so she doesn't. Just sits there, leaning against hard concrete. Concrete is hard. Tries to focus her eyes long enough to stand up, but can't manage. Focusing is hard and her head hurts. The guy who was yelling is still going and Vi wants to tell him to shut up. But no matter how many times she opens her mouth to do it, nothing comes out. Words don't form cause focusing is hard.

Knows she should get up, should go home. Or to what passes as home these days. A terrible imitation of what home used to mean. Home is Vander and Powder laughing, its music thumping through The Last Drop. It's Ekko and Powder chasing each other around the room until Vander picks one of them up by the leg and dangles them upside down. Home is Mylo and Clagger, always at her back, fists raised. Home is watching Powder, her smart, smart Pow-Pow, build gadget after gadget long after the others have gone to bed. It's Powder slumped against her side and snoring softly.

It's somewhere she can never go back to.

Hears footsteps again, but louder this time. Approaching her, not passing. Tries to get to her feet, knows on the ground she's a sitting duck. Knows from her time in prison you never let someone get you between them and a wall. But her limbs don't want to listen to her, and all she accomplishes is a little bit of flailing before she collapses into the concrete again. Concrete is hard. Hears the footsteps get closer, and closer, and closer. Then stop, right in front of her. She looks up, vision still kinda blurry.

Blue hair.

It's the first thing she sees. Blue hair. Thinks for a second it might be Caitlyn. Caitlyn has blue hair. But it isn't her because, of course, it's not. Why would it be? Caitlyn made her opinion of her quite clear with the rifle to the gut. Hit her in the same place she healed. Poetic, one might say. Ironic, is what Vi calls it. Feels her ribs throb just thinking about it. They're healed, were never really injured. Just bruised. No, her ribs are okay. The rest of her isn't, but her ribs are. That counts for something right?

"Let's get you home," the person in front of her, Not Caitlyn, says.

Feels hands, soft hands, gentle hands, touch her arms. Feels them grip her and lift. Wants to fight it. Wants to shove Not Caitlyn away and tell them to fuck off. Doesn't though, because it's been so long since someone touched her without inflicting pain. Since someone was careful with her. They lift her, sling one of her arms around their shoulders. Thinks it must be Loris, the bastard. Must have stuck around to make sure she got back okay. Usually does, she should have known he wasn't really leaving when he said he was. Should have known he'd come back for her.

Except they don't look like Loris.

Loris doesn't have blue hair. And he isn't slender. He's a beefy guy, reminds her of Vander sometimes. Vander was big too. All broad shoulders. This person isn't like Vander at all, which means it must not be Loris. Unless it is. She doesn't know anymore. Focusing is hard. She supposes she should be worried. That this mystery person who may or may not be Loris is taking her who knows where. But she isn't. Knows she should be, never go with someone you don't know. Her parents taught her that, Vander did too. Never trust someone you don't know.

And she doesn't know this person. This Not Caitlyn and Probably Not Loris.

Or does she? Thinks maybe she does. They seem familiar, like she's felt those arms before. But can't remember from where. Somewhere though. She thinks she knows them from somewhere. Tries to swim through her foggy memory to place them but comes up blank. Can only think of Powder and Vander laughing. Of Ekko and Powder screeching as they chase each other around tables. Can only think of Powder tinkering in bed and snoring in her ear.

Home.

She can only think of home.

Can only think of flashes of blue hair and crayon drawings and late-night giggles.

"My sister has blue hair."

"She does, does she?" Not Caitlyn, Probably Not Loris, but Maybe Home answers, and Vi can hear the laugh in her voice.

"Mhmm. Got longer, while I was away."

Whoever has her pauses for half a step, tightens their hold for just a second before they continue walking. Vi barely notices, too busy thinking about Powder. About her baby sister. About all the things she missed. All the years she wasn't there for when she should have been. Because she should have been. Should have been there, shouldn't have said what she did. Shouldn't have left her, shouldn't have been stupid enough to let Marcus get her. Should have fought harder to get away from him and back to Powder. Could have seen her hair grow in real time, could have been there for her, if only she was stronger, faster. Better.

"All my fault," she mumbles, head lolling onto the person's shoulder.

"Oh yeah? How you figure that?"

"Didn't mean it, what I said. Never meant it."

Maybe Home doesn't respond, but she does pause for a second. Just a second, only a second. Then continues taking her wherever it is she's taking her. Guides her with a hand around her middle, hoists her up every time she trips on nothing. All but carries her, when Vi's legs decide they don't want to walk anymore. Grips her a little harder, and Vi lets her. Does her best to help, to keep moving, but it isn't easy. Takes the time to look up at her, at Maybe Home. She has blue hair like Powder. Even looks a little like her, when the light from houses they pass illuminate her face.

"Miss her," she confesses, because Maybe Home starts to just feel like Home the longer they walk.

"Hmm?"

"Pow-Jinx. My sister, the one with blue hair. Miss her."

This time Home does stop. Dead in her tracks, suddenly enough that Vi almost falls forward onto her face from the shift in momentum. Turns to look at her with an emotion that Vi is too drunk to place in her eyes. Her eyes are pretty, a kinda purplely color. Makes her look even more like Jinx, like her baby sister. Home maintains eye contact for a second before she breaks it, looks away with an expression on her face that she can only describe as devastated. Has the urge to comfort her, to wrap her arms around her, and promise that nothing bad will ever get her as long as she's around.

Doesn't.

Doesn't get the chance. The expression is gone almost as fast as it appeared. Home shakes her head, loops her arm back around Vi, and marches on. Leads her down alleys and up side streets. Pauses when there's people, why Vi has no idea. But she does, waits for them to pass before continuing on. Sticks to shadows, crosses the Undercity like a ghost. Leads Vi up to her tiny, cramped quarters. The door is unlocked, it always is. Has nothing worth stealing, and Home must know that because she doesn't ask for a key. Just opens it, hauls Vi into the room. Sits her down on the edge of the bed.

Doesn't say anything, just moves across the room. Digs until she finds the first-aid kit, brings it to the bedside. Rifles through until she finds what she wants. An old rag and antiseptic. Sits on the bed next to Vi, splashes the rag in antiseptic. Reaches out to Vi's face, doesn't let her pull away, even when she tries. Reminds her a bit of Vander in that moment, he always insisted on cleaning her scraps and cuts. Never let her get away with not treating them. Would be ashamed, if he saw how many times since she started fighting that she just fell into bed. Covered in cuts and scraps she won't treat, blood she won't try to remove until the next morning.

Would be ashamed of just how badly she's managed to fuck everything up.

"These look bad," Home says, snatching one of Vi's hands and wiping at her knuckles.

"Can't win 'em all."

Home doesn't respond, only dabs at her knuckles with the rag. Vi hisses, it stings but Home doesn't stop. Just continues wiping, just like Vander used to. Doesn't spit out a Don't be a baby the way Vander would have, tone soft and teasing. Doesn't say anything, just cleans her wounds. It'd been a long night, Vi lost track of how many fights she did. Only knows she made enough to buy booze when she was done. Home puts the rag away, digs in the kit. Curses like a sailer and she knows why. There's no bandages in there, never restocked it when it ran out. Figured an infection taking her out would just be doing her a favor at this point anyway.

"Did you mean it?" Home asks, eyes still on the kit, even though she stopped looking through it when she realized what she wanted wasn't there.

"What?"

"That you miss her? Your sister. Jinx."

"Yeah, miss her all the time."

She doesn't know why she's telling Home this. Maybe it's the alcohol loosening her tongue, maybe it's because she feels like she knows her. Maybe it's because she looks like Jinx, and telling Home is as close as she'll ever get to telling her baby sister how sorry she is. And she is. So sorry. Sorry she left her, sorry she hit her, sorry she said what she did. Sorry that all of this happened because of her. It's all her fault. She knows that. Knows Jinx thinks it's hers but she's wrong. It's Vi's. Vi was supposed to protect her, keep her safe. But she failed, ended up in prison to be forgotten, and now she doesn't know how to fix any of this.

Powder, Jinx, was always the fixer in the family.

"Think she feels the same?"

"Don't know. Wouldn't blame her if she didn't. Fucked up real bad. Didn't mean it, I was just, just angry. Said it anyway and I never, never got to take it back."

Home just nods, doesn't speak anymore. Vi wants to keep talking. She likes talking to Home, likes that she feels familiar, safe. But the alcohol is heavy in her stomach and her eyelids are heavy too. Her head still kinda hurts cause concrete is hard. She's sore from fighting, and all she wants to do is go to sleep. Knows she shouldn't, shouldn't sleep after a hit to the head like that. Vander always said that, made her stay awake for a while. Made Powder wake her up every few hours to ask her questions, to make sure she didn't get hit too hard. Remembers Powder waking her up with a hand in her hair, gentle and calm. Remembers how she always sounded scared when she asked, like she was afraid of losing her.

The irony isn't lost on her.

She knows she shouldn't sleep. But Vander and Powder aren't here, only Home is. So she slumps over. Curls up on her side, tucks her arms into her chest. Always sleeps curled up now, has since prison. Protects the vital organs in case someone comes in when she's asleep and tries something. Remembers a lifetime ago when she didn't have to sleep like this. When she slept on her back, Powder tucked into her side. Remembers how easy it was to sleep back then, knowing Powder was there and Vander was in the next room, snoring loud enough she could hear it through the walls. Remembers how easy it was, with everyone she loved only a stones throw away.

But Vander is dead and Powder is too.

Wonders briefly how Jinx sleeps. If she remembers falling asleep curled into her side. If she remembers all the nights they stayed up too late talking. If she remembers her complaining about the light still being on. Trying to sleep Pow-Pow. I know, I know, one more screw and I'll be done, promise. It was never just one more screw. And Vi learned to sleep with the lights on cause she couldn't bear to see the sadness in Powder's eyes when she told her to turn the light out and go to sleep. Learned to use the sound of her tinkering as a noise machine. Fell asleep so often to Powder building and fiddling, long after the others fell asleep.

Hands, soft and gentle, push the hair from her forehead. And for just a second she thinks it might be Jinx, might be her sister. But it isn't. Home is there, looking at her with an expression she can't read. Sadness, maybe. Pity, probably. Can't blame her for that. Vi knows how she looks. Knows the bags under her eyes, and the bruises on her knuckles don't paint the picture of someone who has their shit together. But there's something else there too. Nostalgia, maybe? Affection, perhaps. Something though, it's something. Something other than pity, so no matter what it is Vi will take it. It's been so long since someone looked at her with something other than pity. Been so long since someone touched her with no intent to harm.

Vi wants to say something, ask how she knows Home. Cause she does, she knows that now. Doesn't know from where, but she knows she does. Wants to ask why she helped her. Why she didn't just leave her there in the gutter where she belongs. But her eyelids are heavy, staying down longer and longer each time she blinks. The alcohol has settled, making her feel warm instead of nauseous. And her bed isn't comfortable but she's tired and sore and it's a horizontal surface so it's good enough. She hears shuffling, what she assumes to be Home putting the kit back. Hears footsteps, feels the hair being pushed out of her face again. Has to resist the urge to lean into the touch. Feels a pat on her arm. Then more footsteps, away from her this time. Towards the door. She has the strange urge to ask Home to stay. She doesn't know why, but she doesn't want her to go. Doesn't want to be alone again, wants Home to stay cause she's as close to Jinx as Vi is gonna get.

"She misses you too, ya know."

"Hmm."

"Sweet dreams, Sister."

The door opens and shuts before Vi can respond. Not that it matters, she's asleep before the door fully closes. Dreams of playing kickball with Powder and watching her tinker. Dreams of Vander's laugh as he slings drinks. Dreams of Powder and Ekko screeching, and Mylo and Clagger at her back. Dreams of that night, when she made the stupid mistake of leaving Powder alone. Except it isn't Powder, it's Jinx. Crumpled on the floor and crying for her. And this time she doesn't leave, she pulls her into her arms and promises her that they'll always be sisters. That nothing will change that, nothing. Not even her not being Powder anymore.

Wakes up the next morning, hung over and sore, but feeling lighter than she has in ages. Like a weight she didn't know she was carrying has been lifted from her shoulders. Has no idea how she got back to her crappy room, and doesn't care.

She can only think of blue hair and home.

[vitrall]

I don't think Jayce and Viktor literally died. They were kind of pulled into another dimension/astral plane/whatever you call it. We see older Viktor, and while it could be another Viktor, I think it would be more meaningful if it was our Viktor, finally free from the arcane, going through the universe with Jayce, fixing timelines together. Kind of like a cosmic mission.

[elsolaer]

i have many thoughts in general but this tidbit from tingyun's voice lines is one of the things i wanna elaborate some more on at some point...

" Every time I head out, I leave a letter behind and lock it in the drawers of my shop. If I come back, then I'll burn it later. If I don't... then it'll be something for others to remember me by."

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

“I love you.” — Arcane

how the main cast say “I love you” ft, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Jayce, Viktor, Ekko and Sevika.

Jinx

♡ Jinx would confess her love impulsively, likely in the middle of one of her chaotic activities. She’d blurt it out without much thought, then immediately try to brush it off as if it wasn’t a big deal.

♡ It would happen in a moment of manic excitement—maybe while building a new weapon or causing destruction together.

♡ “You know I… uh… I love you or whatever, okay?! Don’t make it weird!”

♡ After saying it, she’d pretend it didn’t happen, avoiding eye contact. Deep down, though, she’d be terrified of your reaction but desperately want you to feel the same.

Vi

♡ Vi would say “I love you” after a significant or intense moment, like after a fight or while patching you up. She’d want it to feel real and grounded, not just something she throws around casually.

♡ She’d keep it straightforward but genuine, her voice softening in a way that shows her tough exterior is cracking.

♡ “Look, I’m not great at this, but I love you. You’ve got my back, and I’ve got yours. Always.”

♡ She’d look a little nervous but would quickly recover, smirking or teasing to lighten the mood if things felt too vulnerable.

Caitlyn

♡ Caitlyn’s confession would be deliberate and heartfelt, happening in a quiet, intimate moment. She’d want you to know she means it fully.

♡ It would likely happen during a calm evening, after she’s had time to gather her thoughts and find the right moment to say it.

♡ “I’ve been meaning to tell you… I love you. Truly. You’ve brought so much light into my life, and I can’t imagine it without you.”

♡ She’d watch you closely, her composure hiding subtle nerves. When you say it back, she’d smile warmly, radiating quiet confidence as she holds your hand.

Jayce

♡ Jayce’s confession would be grand and emotional, delivered with the same passion he pours into everything he does.

♡ He’d say it in a moment of triumph or vulnerability, possibly after a victory or while doubting himself and finding comfort in you.

♡ “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed. I love you, and I don’t want to go another day without you knowing that.”

♡ He’d look at you with loving eyes, his heart on his sleeve. Once you reciprocate, he’d pull you into a tight embrace, relieved and overjoyed.

Viktor

♡ Viktor’s confession would be quiet, understated, and deeply sincere. He wouldn’t make a grand gesture but would choose a private moment where his words would carry weight.

♡ It would likely happen late at night while he’s working, and you’re nearby keeping him company. He’d pause for a moment, realizing how much you mean to him.

♡ “I never expected to find someone who sees me… and accepts me as you do. I love you. I hope you know that.”

♡ He’d glance at you, his expression guarded but hopeful. If you say it back, he’d let out a soft, relieved sigh, his lips curling into a rare smile as he continues his work with renewed focus.

Ekko

♡ Ekko’s confession would be sweet and playful, with a touch of hesitation as he tries to gauge your reaction.

♡ It would likely happen during a casual moment, like while exploring the Lanes together or sharing a quiet conversation about your lives.

♡ “You know… you’re kinda my favorite person. Okay, scratch that—you are my favorite person. I love you. There, I said it.”

♡ He’d grin nervously, rubbing the back of his neck or looking away until you respond. Once you say it back, he’d laugh, relieved, and tease you lightly to mask how much it meant to him.

Sevika

♡ Sevika’s confession would be gruff, direct, and tinged with vulnerability she’d rather not show.

♡ It would happen in an emotionally charged moment, like after you’ve been in danger or during a rare quiet evening when the mood feels right.

♡ “I don’t say stuff like this. But… I love you. So don’t make me regret telling you, alright?”

♡ She’d watch you carefully, her eyes sharp but betraying a hint of nervousness. When you say it back, she’d exhale slightly, offer a small smirk, and likely distract herself with a drink to mask how much she cares.

[kamaluhkhan]

IN THE CROOKS OF HER BODY, I FIND MY RELIGION.

pairing: vi x firelight!reader word count: 2.8k summary: part two of this fic ,, basically soft sex + body worship with vi and a tiny bit of angst in between ,, vi being kinda vulnerable and needy and also really hot bc of course / 18+

inspired by a sappho quote + "holy" and "pussy is god" by king princess

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this, stargirl.” 

the two of you haven’t quite made it to bed yet. as soon as you shut the door, you couldn’t resist pressing vi up against it, having already missed the feeling of her body against yours from the short walk to your room.

“if it’s as long as i’ve wanted it,” you breathe between kisses, “then i’d say we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

vi shudders as your lips travel down her neck, your tongue tracing her tattoo. you feel her pull at the hem of your shirt, but you’re too busy pushing the jacket off her shoulders. 

fuck, her arms made your mouth water — all toned and tattooed. something ignites in your stomach, anxious to discover what else she’s hiding underneath layers of fabric. your frenzied hands struggle to undo her belt, vi smiling sheepishly as she steps in to help. once she’s got her pants off, you pause.

you just have to admire the sight of her: hair an absolute mess, chest heaving, and standing in your room with nothing but a dirty white tank top and light gray boyshorts and — wait, what’s that tattoo? 

vi clears her throat, and you realize that you’ve probably been staring too long. 

“okay, before you say anything —”

before she can finish her sentence, you step back and take off your own shirt. vi drinks up your exposed, tattooed skin and she swallows.

“are those —”

“violets, yeah.” 

it doesn’t matter that you’d never confessed your love for each other, that you’d both spent years not knowing if the other was alive or dead, that the chances of a happily ever after together is painfully small — she’s got stars sparkling across her hips and you’ve got violets blooming between your ribs. 

you’re not a religious person, but there has to be some sacred promise in the way you each dedicated parts of your body to the other, despite it all.

vi pulls you in by the neck, crashes her lips against yours urgently. her hands squeeze into the skin underneath your breasts, so hard that it might bruise. one of your hands travels between her legs, rubbing ever so slightly over her underwear; she moans and when you apply just a bit more pressure, vi gasps against your mouth. you’re determined to keep those pretty lips of her parted and whining for you and you regret all the time wasted not being down on your knees for her, so you drop to the ground to atone for your mistake.

“i want to taste you,” you state, pressing a kiss to her thigh, then looking up at her through your lashes. “is that okay?”

as you wait for her to respond, she watches you from above, biting her lip so hard you’re worried she’ll draw blood.

“you don’t have to,” vi finally says, blinking slowly. 

“i want to. i want to take care of you.”

“it’s really fine. that’s not what i’m here for anyways.” she reaches her hand down; ignoring the flutter of disappointment, you let her intertwine her fingers with yours and pull you up, flush against her hips. “it’s my job to take care of you, yeah? it’ll be worth your while. i used to have girls begging to try my magic tongue or fingers. sometimes both, depending on their preference.”

her unbelievably cocky smile sends a jolt of electricity between your legs, and it’s very difficult not to get distracted by her hands squeezing your ass, but you try your best.

“look, uh, vi —” your breath hitches as she starts to nip at your collarbone. “as tempting as that is, i really do want to take care of you, too.”

“you don’t have to.”

“if you’re worried about me, you don’t have to be. i promise i really want to take care of—”

“i said it’s fine,” she snaps. you’re caught off guard by her reaction, and you can tell she is, too, instantly all wide eyed and regretful. vi untangles herself from you to go sit on the bed. “i-i’m sorry,” vi sighs, running a hand through her hair. 

gingerly, you take a seat next to her, careful to give her space if she needs it.

“are you okay? did i say something or —”

“it’s just – i don’t know, stargirl,” she whispers before taking a shaky breath. “when you put it like that….i don’t know. i don’t deserve to be taken care of, especially not by you. all i do is fuck up and hurt the people i care about.”

oh. 

oh. 

you get it now.

the vi you knew years ago was always willing to carry the weight of everything on her shoulders for those she cared about and refused to let anyone else help. you remember how stubborn she’d be to accept anything, even something as small as half an orange you’d offer her when you spied her eyeing your snack. when you spent your earnings one week to buy an extra orange just for her, she flipped out.

it was, honest to gods, one of your worst fights. neither of you spoke to each other for days, until you broke your arm running from an enforcer. vi was the one who found you and lugged you over to vander’s so he could set the bone. you’d later learn that vi had twisted her ankle earlier running from that same enforcer, but she risked further injury just to get you home.

you think about how, though the world has never been kind to her, these past few years at stillwater….well, vi always seems unshakeable, but you notice her new scars and bloodied knuckles and bruises that are probably more than skin deep, and you know that it couldn’t have been easy having to survive there on her own.

“you deserve to feel good, violet.”

you brush your thumb over the lip she keeps gnawing at, wiping away the blood. the way vi looks at you then, powder blue eyes a shade or two darker and slightly glazed over, prompts you to cup her face gently. she grabs your wrist and squeezes it.

“i mean it, okay?” you murmur, pulling your hand away after vi presses a soft kiss to your palm. “let me take care of you, pretty girl. it’ll be worth your while,” you tease, remembering her words from before.

vi hums, something intense flicking behind her eyes.

“okay, stargirl. you’ve convinced me.” she gently grabs your chin, brings your face as close  to hers as possible, so close that you can practically feel the heat of her smile on your lips. “only if you let me take care of you after. deal?”

you swallow thickly, and don’t even need to think for a second when you say —

“deal.” 

and she kisses you to seal it. 

soon enough, you’ve got vi pressed down on the mattress, her shirt off, your hips in between her legs. you’re taking your time — biting at her collarbones, sucking down her sternum. she’s got more tattoos, of course, and her nipples. you wrap your lips around one of them, letting the cool metal of her piercing burn through your tongue. when you pull away with a pop, she whines, and you just have to do the same to the other side. your teeth sink into her abs, your tongue traces over the stars on her hips, until you reach her navel. you trace a finger down the happy trail that disappears underneath the waistband of her panties, which, you can’t help but notice, now have a darker patch in the middle. you finally pull her underwear down her legs, exposing her to you in all her glory.

“hurry up,” vi whimpers when you busy yourself kissing the inside of her thighs, rather than where you know she wants you most.

“you always were impatient,” you chide. “i’ve barely touched you, and it seems like you’re already about to cum.”

you spit on her already glistening pussy before looking back up at her expectantly, eager to make her beg even more. vi’s blushing, a rare but beautiful sight.

she clears her throat, cheeks dusted red. 

“please, we don’t have all the time in the worl—”

vi’s cut off by you running your tongue through her folds. you just love how her thighs instinctively squeeze around your head — your lungs, not quite attuned to your desires, unfortunately require more than what’s between vi’s legs to keep going, so you have to pull them apart. you make up for it, though, and you gather some of her slick to sink two fingers into her heat.

“fuck. fuck,” vi moans. she tangles her hands in your hair, fingers tightening at the roots when you suck her clit harshly. “fuck, you’re so good to me. fuck.”

you hum against her cunt, and work in a third finger, reaching that spot deep inside her that has her crying out in pleasure. you add in your tongue, and vi locks her ankles behind your head to bring you impossibly closer. this time, you stay there until she reaches you feel her tighten around you. you don’t stop, and fuck her through another orgasm that has her body writhing and your lungs burning.

you just don’t want to leave, the velvet softness and saltiness of her more intoxicating than any drink you’ve ever had. but, vi’s tugging impatiently at your hair and whining —

“oh, god, please come up here.”

— so you kiss her cunt goodbye, just for now, and you journey back up her body. your lips, coated in vi’s own release, stick to her skin as you go. when you’re eye to eye with her once more, you kiss her, allow her to taste herself on your tongue. you pull away to quip: 

“that’s not my name, sweetheart, but i’m flattered.”

vi smiles, her lips shining with your saliva and her cum. it makes you want to dive back in for more, but she beats you to it.

“my goddess,” she mumbles against your lips, moving to bite underneath your jaw, down your neck. her nails scrape against your stomach and she teases the waistband of your pants. “get rid of these — it’s time for me to take care of you.”

and how could you say no to that? 

as you get up to remove the rest of your clothes, vi sits up, watching you with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. 

yeah, she’s impatient, reaching for you as soon as you're done and positioning your thighs on either side of her hips. you hiss when your bare cunt rubs up against her abdomen, and vi’s eyes are now the darkest you’ve ever seen them, pupils blown wide. 

“huh. you like that, gorgeous?” she taunts, kissing between your breasts.

and now she’s got you all whiny and desperate. you love how rough her bandaged hands feel as they grip your hips, guiding your movements, and how hot her mouth is against your skin as her teeth, tongue, and lips explore every inch of your body. she lingers on your tattoo, sucking harsh bruises among delicate flowers. her hands roam from your hips to your inner thighs, spreading you open while pressing you down. you’re completely blissed out as your pussy squelches against her strong, defined muscles. you love how her body reacts to your pleasure as if it’s her own — her abs clench between your legs and her heart beating fast against your chest. 

“that’s it,” vi groans, encouraging you. “how’d i get so lucky, huh? to have such a pretty girl make a mess all over me?”

it’s very hard to formulate a thought, and all you can do is breathe out vi’s name like a prayer. 

she thrusts up one more time and presses her mouth onto yours, swallowing your moans and guiding you harder, faster. 

after your orgasm crashes over you, vi rolls over so that she’s on top of you. she rests her forehead against yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. 

“you think you can handle one more?” 

you nod desperately, smiling up at her. vi’s body is firmly against yours, her stomach wet and sticky with you. 

“i thought so,” vi chuckles. she kisses down your cheek, along your jaw, to behind your ear where your star-shaped birthmark greets her. “what’ll it be, stargirl? tongue, fingers, both?”

you shiver. if you had more time, more energy, you’d beg for her it all, but for now you answer:

“just your fingers, please.” you brush your thumb over the tattoo on her cheek, looking into those eyes of hers that you’d like to imagine only soften this way for you. “i want – need – to see your beautiful face while you fuck me.”

and again, vi blushes. she kisses you, hard, before shoving her fingers into your cunt.

her fingers really do feel like magic, like bliss, long and thick, and curving into you perfectly. her thumb rubs tight circles into your clit, her bandaged palm scratching deliciously against your folds. vi’s strong and fast and she’s pretty much fucking her tongue down your throat. 

you feel so wonderfully full and you’re already so sensitive that the elastic in your stomach tightens and tightens and just snaps. you throw your head back, jaw falling slack as overwhelming pleasure rushes through you. you dig your nails into her shoulders to ground yourself, and she hisses into your mouth when you scrape them down her back. 

“fuck, you’re so hot.” vi practically growls, biting your bottom lip. “can’t get over you — like a goddamn vice. be a good girl for me and give me one more, yeah? please.” 

and how can you say no to that — vi on top and deep inside of you, eyes dark and sinful and waiting for your command, eager to have her way with your body because she just can’t get enough? 

you whimper when vi finally removes her fingers from your cunt and sucks them into her mouth.

“better than i imagined,” she grins and actually winks at you. then, she shoves her fingers down your throat as if she knew how empty you felt, and you greedily lap up whatever mess was left.

then, vi takes away her fingers and places the sweetest, softest kiss on your lips before adjusting to lay down on her side. 

“i…i wasn’t too rough, was i?” she whispers, idly tracing fingers on your damp skin. 

you shake your head, smiling. her body is something divine — littered with familiar and unknown scars, muscles strong from carrying the weight of the world. but there’s also proof of the soft curve of your mouth against her skin, the harsh indents of your nails. there’s a desire deep within you hoping those never fades, like that dull, delicious ache between your legs that she left behind. 

the remnants of everything you’ve tasted of hers tonight linger on your tongue as you promise:

“no. you were….are amazing.”

vi nestles into the curve between your neck and shoulder. her teeth graze your pulsepoint as you run your hand through her hair.

you’re both exhausted and sweaty and sticky, but, by god, if you didn’t just find heaven. 

and though you’re deeply satisfied, you’re hungry, too, so you get up to find what you had taken from the kitchen earlier. vi sits up and watches eagerly as you peel the fruit, the smell of citrus dancing between you. you break it in half, watch her hesitate before accepting and devouring it. you’re in comfortable silence while eating. some juice drips down her chin, and you reach over to brush it away with your thumb. vi lets you push your thumb into her mouth to lick it up and you’re biting your lip before she crashes her mouth against yours once more. your hands are sticky as you cup her cheeks, and her lips are sticky against yours, but you don’t care. you think this is the sweetest orange you’ve ever tasted. 

you look out the window. the sky has gone from black to a deep purple, the stars now starting to fade.

in a few hours, vi is heading topside and you’re staying down here to keep the fort down while ekko’s gone with her to the council. best case scenario, you see each other again, continue whatever has simmered between you over the years and boiled over tonight.

worst case scenario….

it doesn’t matter. 

for now:

vi rests her hand on your ribcage while you notch a leg over her hip. 

“g’night, stargirl.” 

you nudge your nose against hers.

“sweet dreams, vi.”

vi kisses your forehead.

“i’ve got you to thank for those.”

you melt against each other and drift off into the best sleep you’ve both had in a while.

[sunsburns]

30 for 30 (ii.) — vi (league of legends) !

⟢ synopsis. you swear you would be in peace if it wasn’t for her. but this kept you on your toes, you guessed. just the way you liked it. besides, everyone knew that falling in love with your best friend’s older sister only led to trouble.

⟢ contains. afab!reader, arcane!vi, feminine characteristics, angst, lesbians, lots and lots of longing, the reader is lowkey insane i cannot lie, vi is kinda toxic but we love her anyway, modern!au, nsfw, fingering, oral, really bad ending sorry, SMUT 18+.

⟢ word count. 11k+

⟢ part one: 30 for 30 (i.)

⟢ authors note. i have been working on this for the last 6 weeks and i have lived so many lives through this fic. christmas passed, then new years, and then my abuelo died a few days ago. no one talk to me for a while, please.

You’d grown so used to ignoring that festering ache in your chest that when your phone rang late one night, her name on the screen, it caught you off guard. Her voice was slurred, rough and frayed around the edges. Drunk. She asked if you could pick her up from some bar you didn’t know, mumbling something about not wanting her family to see her like this.

The drive to the bar had felt surreal, a heavy quiet filling the car as you tried not to overthink why she’d called you . And now, as she sat slumped in the passenger seat of your dad’s old car, it felt no less strange. The dim glow of the streetlights flickered across her face, catching on her freckles and the faint blush on her cheeks. Her head lolled against the window, her hair sticking out in places, the faint scent of alcohol clinging to her like an unwelcome shadow.

Vander and Silco used to tell you that you were family, but as you stole glances at her from the corner of your eye, it struck you how distant she felt. There was a chasm between you—one you weren’t sure either of you could cross. The thought lingered in your chest like a weight, growing heavier as the silence stretched on.

When you pulled into the driveway, she was half-asleep, a faint flush stained her freckled cheeks. Her arm was heavy as you draped it over your shoulder, her weight pressing into you as she stumbled out of the car. She muttered something incoherent, her breath warm against your neck.

“Just a little farther,” you murmured, your voice steady, though your pulse was anything but.

Inside your room, the mess was almost comforting—a reminder of who you were before moments like these blurred the lines. You eased her down onto the bed, her arm slipping from your shoulders as she collapsed with a muffled groan, burying her face in the pillow.

“Vi,” you said softly, crouching to tug off her boots. “You’ll feel better if—”

“Stop fussing,” she muttered, her voice slurred but tinged with familiar defiance. “Mmm.... Not a kid.”

You couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Her lips curved into a crooked smirk, one eye cracking open just long enough to meet yours. But it wasn’t her usual sharp, teasing look. It was softer, tired. Vulnerable in a way that made you hold your breath.

You finished pulling off her boots, setting them aside, and you draped a blanket over her. For a moment, you lingered, your eyes tracing the curve of her jaw, the way her features softened in sleep. Your fingers twitched at your sides. You wanted to reach out, to brush your fingers against hers, to ease the weight she carried even for a second—but you didn’t.

The door felt heavier than it should have as you turned to leave.

“Hey.”

Her voice stopped you mid-step, quiet but insistent. You turned to find her half-awake, her gaze unfocused yet pinned on you.

“Yeah?” you asked, your throat dry.

“Thanks,” she murmured, your name slipping from her lips like an afterthought, though it struck you like a blow.

You nodded, swallowing hard, and left before your resolve could falter.

Your fingers twitched at your sides. You wanted to touch her—just her hand, her shoulder, anything to ground yourself in this moment—but you knew better. So, you turned to leave, the sound of her voice stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey.”

You turned, your pulse quickening. She was still half-asleep, her gaze unfocused as she stared in your direction.

“Yeah?” you asked softly.

“Thanks,” she muttered, your name slipping from her lips in a way that made your chest ache.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and reached for the door.

But later, when you came back to check on her, you found her sitting on the floor by the bed. Her back pressed against the frame, her knees drawn up, and her hands clutched a photo from your desk. Her knuckles were pale where they gripped the frame. Her thumb traced over Claggor’s face, back when he was just a chubby kid with a grin too big for his face.

“Vi?” you called gently, stepping closer.

She didn’t look up. Her voice was low. “I’m such a fuck-up.”

The words hit harder than you expected, knocking the air from your lungs. You sank to the floor beside her, your shoulder brushing against hers.

“You’re not a fuck-up,” you said quietly.

She scoffed, her gaze fixed on the photo.

You hesitated, then offered a small, almost shy smile. “I think you’re cool.”

That earned a laugh—quiet, shaky, but real. She glanced at you, unshed tears clinging to her lashes, catching the faint light and making her eyes shimmer. Her lips twitched into a sad grin. “You think I’m cool?” She asked, wiping hastily at her face with the back of her hand, a hollow snort slipping out. “Jesus, what are we, ten?”

You shrugged, the heat crawling up your neck almost unbearable. “I’ll always think you’re cool.”

Her smile faltered, her expression shifting into something quieter, something raw. Her gaze softened, lingering on you, and it felt like she was searching for something.

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

For a moment, the air between you felt impossibly heavy, thick with words left unspoken. Then she let out a slow breath, her shoulders slumping against the bed frame. “I just... I wanna be a good person. For my family.”

The vulnerability in her voice hit you like a punch to the gut. “You are a good person, Vi,” you said, your tone steady, though your chest ached with the effort to keep it that way. “I think you are. And they think you are, too.”

She blinked at you, her eyes softening further. The lines of her face—usually so sharp, so guarded—melted into something tender, something that made it impossible to look away. The freckles across her nose stood out against her flushed skin, and the faint scar cutting through her brow caught your eye, an anchor in another sea of thoughts that threatened to drown you. The tattoo along her cheekbone seemed softer now, framed by the dim glow from the bedside lamp, its edge catching the shadow of her jawline.

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze locking with yours, and her lips curved into a wider smile. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she muttered. “I’m happy Powder has you in her life.”

The words sent a flutter through your chest, the kind that made it hard to breathe. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too widely, your pulse hammering in your ears.

“You should rest,” you said instead.

For a second, she didn’t move, her eyes flickering down—to your lips. Was it? Was she? You tried not to jump for joy or scream or cheer, swallowing back the girlish, excited squeal that nearly left you. It was so brief you almost convinced yourself it hadn’t happened.

Still, you stayed beside her. The room was quiet save for the soft rhythm of her breathing, which eventually evened out. Her hand still gripped the photo tightly, her thumb brushing faintly across its surface even in sleep.

You tried to focus on that—on the photo, on anything else—but the thrum of your own heartbeat drowned everything out. You were too aware of her, of her presence, of the way her face looked unguarded, almost peaceful now.

And for fuck’s sake, you wished you could’ve kept ignoring her.

--

The sound of laughter and clinking glasses echoed from the kitchen. The warm smell of roasted meats, herbed vegetables, and freshly baked bread filled the house, weaving a comforting cocoon of home and familiarity. The occasional pop of sizzling oil and the scrape of utensils against cookware punctuated the muted hum of conversation. It should’ve been perfect.

Almost.

You’d spent most of the day in the kitchen with Vander and Claggor, sleeves rolled up and hands coated in flour or spices as the three of you moved in easy, practiced rhythm, and maybe getting a little tipsy with wine while you worked.

Cooking was grounding. There was something about the simplicity of it—peeling potatoes, kneading dough, and tasting sauces—that gave your restless mind a moment’s reprieve. It lets you focus on the here and now, your hands busy and your thoughts, for the most part, quiet.

Mostly quiet.

Because no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself, your thoughts kept circling back to her.

Vi.

You hadn’t seen much of her today, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it gave you the space to breathe, to settle the frayed edges of your nerves without the weight of her presence pressing against your every thought. A curse because even the absence of her was its own kind of presence.

She was everywhere. In the distant echo of her voice from the other room. In the low, rumbling sound of her laugh that you caught when you passed by the dining table. In the fleeting glimpses of her out of the corner of your eye, a blur of red hair and sharp edges that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to look at directly.

When the food was prepped and tucked neatly away in the oven, you excused yourself to get ready. Powder had followed you upstairs, chattering away about the table setup, how the napkins needed to be folded a specific way, and whether the wine glasses were clean enough. You smiled despite the knot still coiled in your stomach.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you focused on getting ready. Powder sat perched on the counter beside you, swinging her legs as she twisted her hair into short messy blue pigtails. The soft buzz of the house seemed far away and you worked in companionable silence.

The moment you picked up your eyeliner, though, a shadow passed in the hallway.

You didn’t have to look to know who it was. You felt it.

Powder’s casual chatter stilled mid-sentence, her hands freezing mid-braid as her gaze darted to the door.

You glanced up, turning your head just enough to see her through the mirror.

Vi had stopped, one hand brushing the edge of the doorframe as if she’d paused without meaning to. She wasn’t saying anything—just looking. Her hair was tied back and finally pulled out of her face.

Your eyes met in the reflection. For a second, everything else blurred—even the ache that had been sitting low in your chest all day.

She didn’t move. Neither did you.

Her lips parted slightly as if to say something, but she stopped herself. Her hand dropped from the frame, and her eyes softened. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t enough. But it was everything to you.

“Hey,” Powder piped up suddenly, startling both of you. Vi blinked, glancing away quickly as though she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

You dropped your gaze back to the counter, feigning interest in the clutter of makeup brushes and compacts.

“Hi,” Vi muttered.

Powder hopped off the counter, her movements casual, but when she reached the door, she nudged it closed with a quiet click, shutting Vi out.

The space felt even smaller now, the tension curling tighter in your chest as you forced your hands steady and reached for the eyeliner again.

It didn’t matter.

None of it mattered.

And if you told yourself that enough times, maybe you’d start to believe it.

Powder didn’t press, instead humming a tune as she returned to her hair, but the weight of Vi’s gaze lingered like a phantom. Even as you finished your makeup and brushed off imaginary specks from your clothes, you couldn’t shake the way her eyes had softened in that fleeting moment.

Maybe you had too many glasses of wine.

The evening swept forward as though nothing was amiss. Dinner was ready, the dishes were carried out to the table, and the family gathered in the dining room—a warm, crowded space made cozy by the soft glow of holiday lights and the flicker of candles. Plates clinked, the air hummed with laughter and conversation, and the smell of roasted meat and spices filled the room.

You ended up seated between Powder and Isha, grateful for the buffer between you and Vi, who sat across the table. Vander took his usual spot at the head, towering over the rest of the group like a benevolent giant, while Silco lounged at the other end, his sharp eyes keen and observant even as he sipped his wine.

The conversation rippled through the table, shifting effortlessly between childhood pranks and escalating into an all-out debate between Ekko and Powder about their taste in music. Despite everything, you found yourself smiling, the warmth of the moment settling in your chest like a soft hum.

Ekko leaned toward you, reaching over Powder to tap your arm. “Back me up here! She swears her old mixtapes were legendary, but seriously, half of them were just static and random snippets of songs she couldn’t finish recording.”

Powder whipped around, her arms crossing over her chest in defiance. “They had character , thank you very much. Unlike your boring-ass beats that all sound the same. Admit it, Ekko—you wouldn’t know originality if it smacked you in the face.”

You laughed, holding your hands up as if to ward off a fight. “Don’t drag me into this.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Powder shot back smugly, flipping one of her pigtails over her shoulder. “You’d pick mine anyway. Right?”

“Doubt it,” Mylo muttered from across the table, not even bothering to look up from his plate. “Your mixtapes were shit.”

The room practically exploded as Powder’s outrage hit full volume, her chair scraping back slightly as she leaned forward to defend her honour. Ekko egged her on with exaggerated imitations of her tape-recording process, while Claggor sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as though this wasn’t the first time he’d been subjected to this argument.

Vi’s laugh broke through the chaos, low and raspy, cutting through the din like a blade. It froze you in place for a moment, the sound pulling at something deep and tender inside you. Your gaze flicked up almost instinctively, and there she was—her lips quirking in that lazy half-smile.

For just a second, her eyes caught yours across the table, and the rest of the noise faded away. Something lingered there. You really wanted to know what it was.

She glanced away first, turning her attention back to Vander, but your pulse thrummed in your ears, loud and insistent.

“Aye, enough with all the ruckus,” Vander called out, his booming voice easily cutting through the squabbling. “You’re supposed to be adults now, eh? How come Isha’s better behaved than the lot of you? You’re all grown and graduated, even if we never thought we’d see the day.” He added the last part with a sly, teasing grin.

The table burst into uproar again, the teasing and banter ricocheting back at Vander.

Silco hummed from across the table, “I’m still not sure how we managed to clean that mess up.”

You tried to stay present, to laugh along with the others, but his words knocked the air from your lungs.

Graduation.

The word hit you like a stone, unearthing memories you’d buried deep. You could almost feel it again—the laughter that hung in the warm night air, the shimmer of stars above the city, and the way Vi had pulled you aside. The press of her hand on yours, the sharp, dizzying heat of her lips as they claimed yours like a secret only the two of you could keep.

Your throat tightened as you forced yourself to swallow the ache threatening to rise. You focused on the present, the clatter of plates and the chatter around you, but it didn’t help.

And then, you felt her eyes on you again.

You glanced up, and sure enough, Vi was looking.

There it was—that same knowing look, tangled in everything you couldn’t say out loud. Her brows furrowed just slightly, her jaw tightening as though she was holding something back.

What the fuck was she up to?

--

The Last Drop buzzed with life, music thumping through the speakers and spilling into the streets. It wasn’t just another party. This was a celebration—a proper Zaunite send-off for you, Powder, Ekko, and a few others who had somehow survived to see your graduation day. Families mingled, laughter and loud voices filling the air, while mismatched chairs and tables were dragged together to make room for everyone.

Powder’s arm was slung lazily around your shoulders, her cheek pressed against yours as she swayed side to side, microphone in hand. Her voice cracked mid-line, breaking into laughter that made you smile despite yourself.

Powder had never been much of a singer, but she made it impossible to resist. You joined in, your voice blending with hers, uneven and off-key.

It was one of those rare nights where nothing else seemed to matter—until you saw her.

Vi stood on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall like she didn’t belong to the chaos. A bottle of beer dangled casually from her fingers as her eyes locked on yours. She wasn’t smiling, wasn’t moving . Just watching.

More than anything, you wanted to press your lips against hers. To stop the world around from spinning. To satisfy that little desire of yours.

Yet you couldn’t.

Because that’s not what friends do.

Because you were supposed to hate Violet right now.

It had been over a week since the fight—long enough for the sting of it to fade but not the weight of it.

This fight wasn’t like the bickering you had with Powder or the arguments with Ekko. No, this had been something raw, biting, and far too personal.

And it still sat heavy in your chest, a tangled knot of anger, guilt, and something you couldn’t quite name.

Because who was Vi to get upset about your bad decisions? You never judged her for hers.

It wasn’t fair.

It bothered you more than it should have. Because you liked Vi—you really did. It wasn’t just a fleeting crush; it was the kind of feeling that had rooted itself deep, stretching back to childhood, growing stronger with time. No matter how hard you tried, it never seemed to go away.

But she always kept you at arm’s length, always pushed you away just enough to make you doubt yourself. And now, she was the mad one? How was that fair?

God forbid you wanted to try something new before graduation.

Maddie was a mutual friend between you and Ekko, and she’d invited you to hang out by the creek with her crowd. It wasn’t your usual group of people, but with Powder and Ekko off on their date night, it wasn’t like you had anything better to do.

The rocky quarry was cold, even with the fire Maddie’s friends had started. Its orange glow reflected off the still water below, casting flickering shadows across the uneven ground. The air smelled of smoke and charred wood, sharp and biting against the crisp night air.

Music thumped faintly from a portable speaker, its low bass barely cutting through the sound of laughter and clinking bottles. You sat on a flat rock near the edge, a beer bottle dangling from one hand as you tried not to cough from the joint Maddie had passed you.

It wasn’t your crowd, not really. Maddie was nice enough—but her friends? They were louder, wilder, the kind of kids who laughed a little too loudly and always seemed on the edge of doing something stupid. Powder probably would’ve fit in better than you did.

You forced yourself to laugh when they laughed, nodding along to their stories even when you didn’t get the jokes. But the joint burned harshly in your throat, and the alcohol made your head swim.

“Hey, you good?” Maddie asked, plopping down beside you.

“Yeah,” you lied. “This is fun.”

She grinned, nudging your arm, and offered you another hit. You hesitated but took it anyway, determined not to look out of place.

The night stretched on, blurring into a haze of smoke, music, and the spinning lights from someone’s flashlight. You weren’t sure when it started feeling too heavy—when the laughter began to grate or when the voices became too loud.

So what? You weren’t having fun. Who cared?

Not every trip was going to be a good one.

But things went from bad to worse when a car pulled up, its headlights cutting through the dark like searchlights. The beams blinded you before they clicked off, leaving the silhouettes of the car and its driver behind.

The glare of the headlights cut through the haze, piercing and unwelcome. You squinted against the brightness, trying to make out the shadowy figure stepping out of the car. The moment you recognized her, your stomach twisted into a tight knot.

Vi.

You ducked instinctively, shifting lower into the rocks and bushes, hoping the flickering firelight wouldn’t betray your hiding spot. But it was Vi—she always found you. One second, you were staring blearily at the water, trying to dissolve into the night, and the next, she was right there, pulling you to your feet.

If you’d been even a little more sober, you might have swooned. Her hands were warm, steadying you against the dizziness swaying your vision. For a split second, your hazy mind latched onto the way she held you, like an anchor. But then you saw the scowl pulling at her lips.

Her eyes burned with frustration, her jaw tight as she looked you over. Even through the muddled fog, you could tell she was annoyed. No, more than that. She was pissed. And yet... when her gaze softened, just barely, you felt your stomach flip in that infuriating way it always did around her.

Before you could protest, she started dragging you toward her car.

“What the hell?” you slurred, trying to plant your feet, though the ground seemed to shift beneath you. “What’re you doin’?”

“I’m taking you home,” she said flatly.

“What?”

“Come on.”

“Vi. No, I’m not going anywhere,” you snapped, voice cracking as you shook her grip. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I am fine. I have it under control.”

Vi stopped, her grip tightening as she turned to face you fully. Her voice dropped lower, sharp but quiet. “You don’t have it under control.”

“Yes, I do,” you mumbled.

“You’re drunk.”

“So what?”

“So you don’t even know what you’re saying,” she snapped, her tone cutting through the haze.

“Oh, you know? You think you know me so well?” The words spilled out before you could catch them. “You think you know what’s good for me?”

She sighed heavily, muttering your name in a warning tone. “Just calm down—”

“No!” You cut her off, your voice rising. “You don’t get to decide what I do, Vi! You don’t get to swoop in and play saviour just because you feel like it.”

Maddie and her friends had turned to watch now, their curious gazes pinning you in place, making your face burn. And despite everything—despite the words bubbling on your tongue—you let Vi pull you away, her hand firm around your arm.

Your teeth ground together as you stalked to her car, every step sparking with indignation. Things between you had been unbearable lately, each interaction leaving you more wound up than the last. There was a time when you would’ve had endless patience for her, but now? Now it felt like she was one more weight pressing on your chest, one more thing you couldn’t figure out.

When she shut the car door behind you, the cold glass felt soothing against your temple as you leaned against the window.

“How’d you even find me?” you muttered, your voice low and bitter.

“Ekko told me,” she replied without looking at you, her tone clipped.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Of course.”

“A thanks would be nice,” she said, her knuckles white against the steering wheel.

“For what? Embarrassing me?”

“You embarrassed yourself.”

“Right,” you scoffed.

“Well, sorry for trying to help you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Fuck, you’re impossible sometimes,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You should’ve just stayed home. These aren’t the kind of people—”

“Are you seriously going to turn this into a lecture?” you interrupted, your words a little slurred but sharp enough to sting. “Do you really feel like you’re in the position to be giving me shit about my bad decisions? You?”

Her head snapped toward you, her brow furrowing. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You hesitated, the fight draining out of you for just a moment. The words sat heavy on your tongue, the weight of her presence drowning out your resolve. She’d been pushing and pulling at you for months now , teasing something more but never following through.

And yet, no matter how mad she made you—no matter how deep she cut—you couldn’t stop feeling the way you did. You couldn’t stop wanting her.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, turning away to rest your head against the cool glass. The words you wanted to say stuck in your throat, a bitter ache joining the spinning in your head.

“Is everything okay?” Powder’s voice broke through the haze, grounding you back in the moment. Her worried gaze locked onto yours, soft but insistent.

For a second, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The words sat heavy in your chest, unwilling to come out. Instead, you gave her a small, tired smile—a silent reassurance you weren’t sure even you believed.

“Do you want a beer?” she asked, holding out her own cup. Her attention flicked between you and the lively crowd behind her as Isha grabbed the mic, joining Mylo and Vander in a loud, drunken chorus.

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. I’m just going to grab some water… maybe step outside for a bit.”

Before you could turn, her hand caught yours. Concern flashed in her eyes, clearer this time, and it made your stomach twist.

“I’m fine, Pow,” you said, pulling your hand free gently. “Just need some air.”

Without waiting for her reply, you slipped away, weaving through the crowd and out the door before anyone else could stop you.

The chill of the night hit you immediately, a stark contrast to the heat and noise inside. The streets of Zaun buzzed softly, a symphony of distant voices and the occasional whistle of wind. You leaned against the railing outside the bar, letting the cool air sting your cheeks and settle the unease in your chest.

It had been a long day. Too long, really.

You tilted your head back, staring up at the sky—hazy and grey like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to rain or stay dry. The faint glow of the streetlights was enough to keep the dark at bay but not enough to chase away the shadows clinging to your thoughts.

“Thought you might’ve made a run for it.”

The voice startled you, low and familiar, cutting through the quiet.

Your head snapped to the side, and there she was—Vi. She leaned against the wall a few feet away, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets, her posture casual, but her eyes… her eyes were locked on you.

“No running,” you said, trying to muster a smile. “Just needed a breather.”

She nodded and stepped closer, the scuffed soles of her boots scraping against the concrete. “Can’t blame you. It’s a lot in there.”

You hummed in agreement, turning back to the horizon. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched her lean on the railing beside you, her profile outlined in the dim glow spilling from the bar windows.

The silence stretched between you, but for once, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

After a moment, Vi cleared her throat, her fingers fidgeting with something in her pocket. “I, uh… got you something.”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden statement. “You did?”

Without a word, she pulled out a small box and held it out to you. Her knuckles brushed against yours briefly, sending a jolt through your system when you took it.

“Go on,” she said.

Curiosity warred with apprehension as you took the box. It was simple—nothing fancy, just a plain black case. Your hands trembled slightly as you opened it, the hinges creaking faintly.

Inside was a ring, nestled in a cushion of fabric. The gemstone caught the light just right, glinting in shades of blue and green. It was unmistakable—the ring you’d admired months ago, the one you’d only ever mentioned to Powder.

“Vi…”

She shifted, rubbing the back of her neck, her usual confidence replaced by something softer, almost shy. “Figured you deserved something nice. You’ve been through enough.” A pause. “I’ve put you through enough.”

The words hit harder than you expected, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her.

Did she know?

Could she see how much space she occupied in your head, how her presence both thrilled and tormented you?

She must know.

You slid the ring onto your finger, watching it catch the faint glow of the streetlights. “Thank you,” you murmured.

Vi huffed a small laugh, her gaze dropping to the ground. “You look good,” she said suddenly, the words almost rushed. “Like, really good.”

You snorted, the tension breaking slightly. “Thanks, bonehead. I tried not to disappoint. Don’t want to ruin your reputation with all those girls you bring around.”

The jab was meant to be playful—a callback to the jokes you and Ekko often threw her way. But her reaction wasn’t what you expected. She stiffened, her jaw tightening.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” she said, her tone unusually earnest.

You frowned, the lightness of the moment slipping through your fingers. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She hesitated, her gaze fixed on the ground as if searching for the right words. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “For the same reason I haven’t had a drink in months.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw.

Your chest tightened, a mix of confusion and hope clawing at you. “What do you… Vi?”

She looked up at you then, her eyes unguarded for once. “I want to be better. For my family. For you.”

The vulnerability in her voice took your breath away.

“I’m sorry for last week,” she continued, her voice soft as she moved closer. “I’ve been… an asshole.”

“You’re always an asshole,” you taunted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You weren’t sure how else to approach this.

Vi chuckled, the tension easing slightly. “More of one than usual. Better?”

“A little.”

“How do I get you to forgive me?”

You smiled, warmth unfurling in your chest like a slow-burning ember. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Her hand grazed your shoulder, the touch featherlight, as if testing whether you’d melt under her fingers. You leaned into her instinctively, like a plant drawn to sunlight. It was new, this tenderness from her, but somehow it felt like home. A strange, beautiful comfort that was exactly what you were aching for.

“Is it terrible that I really want to kiss you right now?” Her thumb traced the line of your collarbone, slow and deliberate, before cupping your cheek. Her palm was warm against your skin, grounding you in the moment while the world around you blurred into hazy irrelevance.

Her hand trailed up your collarbone and rested on your cheek. You were so close you could feel her breath on your face. You turned the rest of your body, finally fully facing her. Your chests were almost touching from the proximity, and so were your lips. You could feel your heart beating so loud in your ribcage you thought she could hear it.

“Definitely not,” you whispered, barely able to trust your own voice.

You turned to fully face her , closing the small distance between you . Your chest brushed against hers, the soft hitch of her breath almost louder than the pounding in your ears. You wondered if she could hear your heart, wild and untamed beneath your ribs, or if it was just you unravelling in her presence.

For a second, she hesitated, her lips ghosting over yours, not quite touching. The tension was electric, a charge that made the air feel thick and heavy, like the world itself was holding its breath. You closed your eyes, letting yourself fall into the anticipation, surrendering to the pull that had always been there.

When her lips finally pressed to yours, it was slow—achingly so. Her movements were unhurried, like she was memorizing the feel of you, the way your breath hitched, the softness of your lips against hers. Your hands found their way to her arms, fingers curling over the muscle there, marvelling at the juxtaposition of strength and gentleness. She brought you closer, her free hand slipping to the small of your back, holding you as if she were afraid you might slip away.

She pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, her thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The warm summer breeze kissed your skin, but you barely noticed. You were too busy drinking her in—the way the string lights overhead reflected in her eyes, turning them into pools of gold, the flush on her cheeks, the way her lips parted as if she had something more to say but couldn’t find the words.

You didn’t care. Words didn’t matter anymore.

Her name slipped from your lips in a whisper you barely recognized, a plea you hadn’t meant to voice.

And then her lips were on yours again, fiercer this time. You responded without thinking, arms wrapping around her neck as though pulling her closer might make you whole. She matched your urgency, her hands firm as they pressed you flush against her, anchoring you in the moment. She kissed like she fought—with passion, with intent, with a determination that left you breathless.

When she broke away, it wasn’t to retreat but to trace a path down your jaw, her lips exploring the sensitive skin of your neck. Each kiss, each gentle scrape of her teeth, sent shivers down your spine. You gasped her name, your fingers tangling in her hair to pull her back to you.

Her eyes were dark when they met yours again, desire simmering just beneath the surface. Her lips were swollen, her breaths uneven, and she looked at you like you were something she couldn’t quite believe was real.

“Fuck,” she breathed, “I want you. Really bad.”

“You’ve always had me.”

She kissed you again, this time with an urgency that left no room for hesitation. Her hands roamed, each touch setting your skin ablaze until you were sure you’d never be the same. It was dizzying, intoxicating—a dream you never wanted to wake from.

--

Across the table, Vi was still looking at you.

You weren’t sure how long it had been—seconds, minutes?—but the weight of her gaze pressed down on you like it could peel back the layers you’d so carefully wrapped around yourself.

Your fingers tightened around the fork in your hand, the metal cool against your palm. Look away, you told yourself. Just look away. But you couldn’t.

Her expression was unreadable, her jaw set, and her brows drawn just slightly enough to make her look... almost regretful. Almost. It made your heart plunge. Even if you already had that sinking feeling she did regret it, when she left you that summer, but it still hurt all the same.

You tore your eyes away, focusing hard on the plate in front of you. The food looked perfect—bright, warm, comforting. But you had no appetite.

“...You alright?” Powder’s voice cut through the haze, and you blinked, realizing she’d been watching you. Her head tilted, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, fine,” you said quickly, forcing a smile that felt all wrong on your face when you felt Isha place her hand over yours. “Just tired.”

You could feel Vi’s eyes on you still.

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Vander was saying, his deep voice rolling over the table. “Feels like it, though. Never thought we’d make it through that night in one piece.”

“Speak for yourself,” Powder chimed in, grinning. “I think I came out of it looking pretty great.”

Mylo snorted. “You came out of it covered in glitter and confetti.”

“Exactly,” Powder shot back, shoving him lightly, and the table erupted into laughter.

Vi shifted in her chair, leaning back slightly. “Some people had more exciting nights than others,” she remarked, her tone light but razor-sharp. “If I remember right, someone disappeared for a while.”

The room went quiet.

You looked up sharply, meeting her gaze again, and there it was—something burning in her eyes, daring you to say something.

“What are you talking about?” Claggor asked, looking between you and Vi.

Vi shrugged casually, but her grip on her glass betrayed her. What the fuck was she playing at? “Nothing. Just saying, some people had... priorities.”

The words hung in the air like smoke, curling into the silence.

Your chest tightened under the weight of everyone’s stares. You forced your voice to stay even.“If you’ve got something to say, Vi, just say it.”

Her lips curled into a smirk that didn’t meet her eyes. “No. I’m good.”

You leaned forward, tension crackling in the air. “No, seriously. You clearly have a lot to say about that night. Why don’t you go ahead and spell it out for everyone?”

Vi’s chair creaked as she leaned forward, her voice low and steady. “Fine. You went missing. Nobody knew where you were. Figured you’d be with your friends, but no. You were off… handling your own business, weren’t you?”

“Vi—” Vander started.

Your jaw tightened. “Maybe you should look in a mirror before pointing fingers,” you shot back, the words escaping before you could think. “Because last I checked, you were drunk and sulking in the bottom of some mug—”

Vi’s scoff cut through the air like a slap. “Oh my god. Not this again.” She laughed, sharp and hollow. “Some of us actually enjoyed the night.”

“Enjoyed it?” you spat. “Is that what you call it?”

“At least I wasn’t sneaking around like I had something to hide!”

Your eyes narrowed, the fire in them flaring. “That’s fucking rich, coming from you. Considering the fact that you can’t ever grow up and actually take responsibility for your shit.”

Her chair scraped loudly as she leaned forward, “Grow up? Weren’t you the one giving me the silent treatment all weekend?”

“Because I didn’t have anything to say to you!”

“Oh, really? Sure sounds like you’ve got plenty to say now!” Vi’s voice cracked like a whip, the sarcasm cutting deeper than you expected.

“Because you’ve been acting all weird since I got here!” The words were out before you could stop them, a raw truth that had been burning inside you all day. It wasn’t just the awkwardness—it was her presence, everything about it, that had been eating at you.

“Weird how?”

“You keep acting like we’re friends—”

“Are we not friends?”

“Not the last time I fucking checked!” The words escaped in a snap, too loud for the quiet that had overtaken the table. “Friends don’t... they don’t—”

“They don’t what?” Her eyes were hard, daring you to finish it, daring you to bring it all back up. She knew exactly what you were going to say.

“They don’t leave , Violet.” You felt the air grow thick around you. Your voice dropped lower, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “They don’t fucking leave and act like nothing’s wrong. They sure as hell don’t spring out bullshit like this and pretend it’s nothing.”

“I—”

“They don’t pretend to care when they don’t,” you interrupted, your voice rising now, a sense of finality creeping in. You were done dancing around it. Done avoiding it. “And don’t act like this is some fucking coincidence, Vi. You left. And you know it. And for what? Because you’re a coward? We can fight about this forever and still end up right here again and again.”

Her jaw tightened at that, but her lips barely parted. She tried to steady herself, but you saw the crack—the tiny flicker of something that couldn’t hide in the cold light of the argument. “But I do care,” she said, softer than she meant to.

“No, you don’t. Because if you did you would’ve taken me seriously a long time ago.”

Around you, the table remained frozen, the once-familiar chatter now swallowed by the storm of your words.

Your chest tightened, breaths coming too quickly as heat rose to your face. Your hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, but they trembled, betraying you. You clenched them into fists, trying to steady yourself. The cold weight of embarrassment crashed over you, thick and suffocating, pulling at the pit of your stomach. The sting of tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back, refusing to show weakness. Not here. Not now.

“I need the bathroom,” you muttered.

The words were barely a whisper, but they felt loud in the stillness, a fragile escape from the chaos you were drowning in. You didn’t wait for a response. You pushed back from the table so violently that your chair scraped loudly against the floor, a harsh sound that seemed to echo in the tense silence. You stood up, your legs shaky, and your vision blurred for a second as you tried to steady yourself.

But just as you were about to leave, a small, insistent tug at your dress made you freeze. You paused, tension coiling in your chest, and glanced down. Isha’s wide, innocent eyes met yours, filled with concern and confusion, but she didn’t speak. She just held on for a heartbeat, her tiny hand clutching at the fabric.

You couldn’t bear to see her face, the concern too pure, too innocent for the mess you’d just created. You could already feel the shame settling in, the weight of everything crashing over you. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, silently asking if you were okay, but all you could do was nod quickly, avoiding the pleading in her gaze.

Without another word, you turned away, the sound of your shoes hitting the floor sharp and heavy as you walked toward the hallway. Your heart pounded in your chest, a rhythm that matched your quickening breaths, and you didn’t look back.

--

You'd spent your entire summer tied between bedsheets and lies. The knots in your chest were growing, the bitterness between your teeth spreading like a cavity. The sun was your only witness to the way you were falling apart at the hands of Violet. She was unravelling you, pulling you to pieces, limb by limb, with her teeth as they gnawed at your skin—biting and biting and pulling and pulling, taking everything out from you.

But you were so in love. You were sure that’s what it was. You were so in love with her and with this strange feeling residing within you that you couldn't help but think that if this was the way things were going to be from now on, so be it.

Her touch was electric, sparking something deep inside you that refused to be extinguished. When she pulled you into stolen moments—pressed against walls, her lips brushing yours with an urgency that made your head spin—you forgot about the world outside. You forgot about Powder. About Ekko. About the lies you were spinning just to be with her.

It was never planned. She’d come into your room late at night, your parents always let her in, her footsteps soft and deliberate, her voice a low murmur of your name that sent shivers down your spine. And then she was there, so close you could feel her warmth, her breath fanning your cheek as she whispered, “Can I stay?”

You never said no.

It was all tenderness. Her fingers would trace lazy patterns on your skin as the two of you lay tangled together, the world melting away outside your window. She kissed you with a care that made you believe, for just a moment, that this wasn’t wrong. That you weren’t betraying anyone.

Her laugh, soft and rare, became the soundtrack to your summer. You’d tease her about her scars, and she’d roll her eyes, calling you insufferable before tugging you closer with a smirk. “You’re lucky I like you,” she’d say, her voice light but her gaze heavy with something deeper.

But even then, cracks were forming beneath the surface.

You ignored the way her jaw tensed whenever Powder’s name came up when you told her what you did in the day. You pretended not to notice how her touch lingered a little too long as if she was trying to commit you to memory. And when she’d pull away in the mornings, murmuring some half-hearted excuse about needing air or checking on something, you let her go without question, even though her absence left a hollow ache in your chest.

You spent your days with Powder when the afternoon sun was merciless and drenched everything in a sticky warmth that clung to your skin. You followed her into the tiny ice cream shop on the corner, grateful for the blast of cold air as the door swung shut behind you. She immediately made a beeline for the counter, peering at the flavours.

“You know you’re just gonna get strawberry,” you said, leaning your arms on the glass display.

Powder rolled her eyes at you. “Maybe I’m feeling adventurous today.” But, true to form, she ordered strawberry, with a generous drizzle of chocolate syrup on top.

The two of you wandered back outside, ice creams in hand, the salty breeze from the beach brushing against your skin. Powder was chatting about something—maybe the latest gossip from your old neighbourhood or some ridiculous scheme Ekko was planning—but you weren’t really listening. Your thoughts were far away.

“Okay, spill,” Powder said suddenly, cutting through your haze.

You blinked, looking over at her. “What?”

She stopped walking and turned to face you fully, her blue eyes narrowing in a way that made you squirm. “You’ve been weird lately. Like, really weird. And I know you’re seeing someone.”

Your heart dropped. “What are you talking about? I’m not—”

“Oh, please.” Powder rolled her eyes, licking a stray drop of chocolate syrup from her thumb. “You think I haven’t noticed the hickeys? Or the fact that you’re always sneaking off? Or how you’re suddenly a terrible liar?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t even try,” she interrupted, grinning now. “You’re so obvious, it’s embarrassing.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. Powder knew you too well, and she wasn’t wrong.

“I’m not gonna push,” she continued, taking another bite of her ice cream. “You don’t have to tell me who it is or anything. Just… I don’t know. Be careful, okay? If they hurt you, I’ll deal with them myself.”

You forced a laugh, hoping it sounded casual. “I think I can handle myself, Pow.”

“I’m serious,” she said, her voice softening. “You’re my best friend. I just want you to be happy.”

It wasn’t like you wanted to keep it all to yourself, but you had to admit, you enjoyed the rush. The thrill of sneaking around, of stolen touches and whispered words in the dark . Of secluded meetings where the world melted away, leaving only the two of you. You even started to understand why Powder and Ekko had kept their relationship a secret for so long before telling anyone. There was something intoxicating about the secrecy, about having something—someone—all to yourself.

Still, the guilt lurked in the back of your mind, a constant shadow in the brightness of those moments.

You could feel its weight one night as you lay beside Vi, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside your window. The moonlight poured in through the swaying blinds, catching the sheen of sweat on your skin. You could still feel her hands on you, the warmth of her lips lingering in places you’d never forget.

But something shifted in the air as you spoke.

“Powder knows,” you said softly, your voice barely breaking the stillness.

Vi stiffened beside you, her arms tightening for just a moment before going rigid. You felt the change immediately, like the comfort of her embrace had turned into a cage.

“What?” she muttered, her voice panicked, strained. She pulled away from you, her sudden movement leaving you cold despite the warmth of the summer night.

You propped yourself up on one elbow, watching as she sat up and ran a hand through her hair. The way she avoided your gaze made your chest ache. “I mean, she knows I’m seeing someone. She doesn’t know it’s you,” you clarified, trying to ease the tension. “But she’s smart, Vi. I’m sure she’ll figure it out.”

“Oh,” was all she said, her tone flat.

You frowned, sitting up to face her fully. “Is that so terrible?”

She finally turned to you, her expression unreadable, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Well… yeah.”

“What? Why?” you asked, your voice rising slightly, a mix of confusion and hurt.

“It’s just…” She trailed off, her hands falling into her lap. You watched as she fidgeted with the hem of the sheet, her knuckles brushing against her thighs, her usual confidence faltering. “This isn’t… I mean, it’s not supposed to be…”

“Not supposed to be what?” you pressed, your heart sinking as the silence stretched between you.

“Never mind,” she muttered, her voice clipped, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Your chest tightened as you watched her get dressed again, searching for her clothes in the mess of your room. “Where are you going?”

“I just remembered—I promised Jayce I’d meet him for drinks,” she said, her tone casual, but the way she avoided your gaze betrayed her unease.

“Drinks?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

“No, I just… uh, will I see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe. I dunno.”

Her answer hit you like a slap, the indifference in her tone cutting deeper than you expected. You opened your mouth to say something, to ask her to stay, but the words tangled in your throat. She was already halfway to the door.

And then she left, shutting it behind her without so much as a glance back.

You sat there in stunned silence, the warmth of her presence already fading. The sheets felt colder, and the air seemed heavier. You stared at the door, replaying the conversation in your mind , wondering where you’d gone wrong.

You should’ve kept your mouth shut.

You didn’t see her for a few days. Each hour of her absence stretched unbearably long, her silence gnawing at you like a wound that wouldn’t heal. It wasn’t until you were at Powder’s house for a sleepover that you saw her again, and the encounter was nothing short of jarring.

You were in the bathroom, brushing your teeth when the door swung open abruptly.

“Shit, sorry,” Vi said, freezing in the doorway, her eyes wide. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Figures.” you muttered as you met her startled gaze in the mirror.

Her presence made your chest tighten, anger and longing colliding in a mess of emotions. She lingered for a moment , her hand gripping the doorknob so tightly her knuckles whitened. Her eyes darted to the floor before she stepped back and shut the door behind her.

You stood there, toothbrush suspended midair, the brief encounter leaving you shaken. Your grip tightened on the sink as you stared at your reflection, trying to steady yourself, but all you could think about was her.

Ten minutes later, her bedroom door was locked.

You didn’t know how you ended up there, pressed against her bed, but none of it mattered in the heat of the moment. Her movements were frantic, her hands rough and unrelenting as they held you in place. One hand cupped your mouth, muffling your gasps and cries, while the other gripped your hips, anchoring you to the mattress.

Her breath was hot against your skin as she licked a line up your centre, her tongue moving with a precision that made you shudder. Vi’s eyes stayed locked on you, watching the way your chest heaved and your fingers fumbled for something to hold onto. The sheets bunched beneath your grip as her nose brushed against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

You felt your breath stagger. Her mouth moved against you with a desperation you hadn’t felt before, like she was trying to drown out her own thoughts by consuming you entirely.

Her tongue worked relentlessly, warm and wet as it flicked against you in ways that stole the air from your lungs. She was vicious, her teeth scraping lightly, her lips sealing over you with desperation that bordered on need. You tried to stay quiet—the walls were thin, and you weren’t an idiot—but it was impossible to stifle every sound.

It was a miracle that the woman you fucked wasn’t a talker half of the time.

Your head pressed back against the comforter, and your body arched into her touch, unable to resist the pull of her movements. A broken gasp escaped you, muffled only by the fingers pressed against your lips. The lewd, wet sounds of her mouth against you filled the room, driving you closer to the edge.

Vi’s eyes never left you, and when she moved her hand from your mouth to tug at your shirt, you realized she wanted more. Her fingers fumbled with the fabric, her grip firm but not rough.

Your hand covered hers, “Vi—” you managed to whisper, but the way her fingers flexed back against yours stole whatever protest you had.

“ Oh, ” you keened, the sound spilling from your lips before you could stop it. Your chest heaved, and your free hand clutched at the sheets as heat spread through your body.

She shifted lower, pulling her hand away from yours, spreading you open further with her fingers before her tongue dipped deeper. She sucked on your clit, her lips closing over it with a force that had you gasping her name. Your hand found her hair, tangling in her locks as your hips bucked against her face.

“F-fuck,” you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper. The room felt too hot, the air too thick, as if the walls themselves were closing in.

What Vi gave you wasn’t just desire—it was something raw, frantic like she was trying to pour everything she couldn’t say into every stroke of her tongue and press of her lips. Her nails dug into your thighs, holding you steady as she pulled you apart, piece by trembling piece.

When you finally came undone, she didn’t let go immediately. She lingered, her tongue moving slower now , as if reluctant to stop.

Your gut twisted with unease and she finally pulled back, her forehead resting against your thigh, her breath warm and uneven against your skin.

She stayed there for a moment, her shoulders trembling slightly.

“Vi?” you whispered, your voice hoarse and uncertain.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she climbed up beside you, pulling you into her arms with a gentleness that went against all the ferocity from moments ago. It made your chest ache.

Her hands traced idle patterns on your back, and her lips brushed against your temple, but even in her embrace, you could feel the tension radiating from her.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a momentary lapse.

It felt like a goodbye.

Three days later, you found the note.

Sorry, can’t keep doing this. Take care.

--

The sound of your feet hitting the floor was sharp, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You couldn’t stand being in the same room with her for another second. Without thinking, you turned on your heel and made a beeline for the door.

Powder was already on you. “Hey—wait! What the fuck was that all about?” She followed closely, her voice softening with concern.

“I just need a minute,” you muttered, the words coming out more broken than you intended, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her.

“Please, talk to me,” she called out, grabbing your arm before you could open the bathroom door. You flinched, the touch grounding you against the whirlwind of your emotions. Powder gently turned you around, her gaze locking onto yours. The concern in her eyes was sharp, but it softened when she noticed the tears staining your cheeks. The ones you’d been fighting back all night.

“I’m sorry,” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush, but it felt like they weren’t enough.

Powder’s eyes softened at the apology, but she was still searching for answers. “For what?”

“I’m sorry, Pow,” you repeated, your voice trembling.

She blinked, shaking her head slightly, “Why would you—”

“It was Vi,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. Your chest felt tight like something was gripping around your heart, squeezing the air from your lungs. “The person I was seeing over the summer... it was her. I... I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Powder’s face, usually so open and easy to read, flickered with something unreadable for a moment. But then, without skipping a beat, she spoke, her voice calm. “I know.”

“What?”

“I knew.”

Of course, she knew. Why wouldn’t she know? You scoffed involuntarily. A bitter, hollow laugh bubbled up in your chest, but it died before it reached your lips. Of course, she’d figured it out. You’d never been good at hiding things from Powder. She’d known you better than anyone for as long as you could remember.

Seeing the way your face shifted, Powder seemed to understand the storm of thoughts going through your head. She continued, quieter now, but her words landed with surprising ease. “You’ve always had a thing for her... I just thought you’d tell me when you were ready. I wasn’t going to push.”

The floodgates started to crack open, the guilt and the ache in your chest spilling out in fragmented pieces. “I wanted to tell you,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. “I really did... but I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what I was doing—what I was feeling. And I didn’t want to hurt you.” The last part came out in a broken whisper, the pain of it digging into you like a knife.

Powder’s gaze softened, but she didn’t say anything right away. You could feel her presence steadying you, like she was holding onto you in the way she always did when things felt like they were falling apart.

“Come on, stop apologizing. You sound like a loser.”

But you couldn’t stop. You were choking on it. On the guilt. The regret. The frustration. You’d kept this secret for so long, and now everything had cracked wide open, splintering everything around you. “I should’ve told you first thing,” you choked out, your chest heavy with regret, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I fucked everything up. I ruined Christmas dinner, I ruined everything.”

You didn’t mean to raise your voice at the table. It just... happened. The tears were close again, stinging the back of your eyes, and your hands shook violently as you tried to make sense of it all. You shouldn’t have come back here.

“I’ll leave. I’ll go.”

The words didn’t even feel real as they left your mouth. You didn’t even know where you’d go.

But before you could turn away, Powder’s hand shot out, stopping you cold. She wasn’t angry. No, this wasn’t about anger. It was something else—something steadier. Her voice was quiet but firm, unwavering. “And go where?” she asked, a little smile pulling at the corner of her lips, almost like she was trying to soften the weight of your spiralling thoughts. “You’re staying right here. You’re not leaving.”

She exhaled a laugh that sounded real for the first time all night, and it cut through the tension in the air. The smile that formed on your lips was small, but it was there. “Besides,” she added, “if anyone ruined Christmas, it was Mylo’s shitty cookies anyway.”

That did it. It was the most normal thing you’d heard all night, and it gave you just enough space to breathe.

“We’re gonna watch a movie soon,” she said, her voice softer now. “Once everyone’s done eating. If you need a minute... you’ve got plenty of time.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. Your throat felt like it was tightening again, but you didn’t have it in you to argue. “Thanks,” you whispered, your voice tight, raw. “I just need a few minutes... to think.”

Powder’s gaze softened even more as she stepped back, her expression unreadable for a moment. “I’ll deal with my sister and then we’ll talk about this later. There’s a lot to unpack here.”

The words lingered in the air between you, but there was no anger there. No blame. Only understanding—like she knew this wasn’t something you could just fix in a minute. It made your heart ache even more, that she wasn’t pushing. That she wasn’t leaving you to drown in this alone.

With that, she left you standing in the hallway, the door creaking softly behind her. You didn’t look back, the weight of her words lingering on your shoulders like a heavy cloak. It felt like everyone in the house was still watching, their eyes pressing down on you. The silence in the house seemed louder than the argument had been.

Without thinking, you pushed open the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind you with a force that left your ears ringing. You locked the door, the click of the lock filling the space with a strange finality. It was just you now, and you couldn’t escape what was happening inside your own head. The sound of your pulse thudded in your ears, drowning out everything else.

You leaned heavily against the sink, your hands gripping the porcelain so tightly that your knuckles ached.

“Fuck,” you whispered, barely able to hear yourself over the frantic beating of your heart.

You stared at your reflection for what felt like hours, trying to calm the storm in your mind. Your face was flushed, your emotions a mess of anger, confusion, and exhaustion. You hated the way things had spiralled tonight. Hated that you’d let it get this far. Hated that you’d lashed out, that you did it in front of Isha and the rest of the family.

But as much as you wanted to bury it, as much as you wanted to push everything down and move on, you couldn’t. You couldn’t lie to yourself. What you really felt was hurt.

A soft knock at the door broke through your thoughts, sharp against the silence. You froze and swore under your breath.

“Hey, are you okay?” Claggor’s voice was gentle, hesitant like he wasn’t sure whether to intrude. “Just... just wanna make sure you're alright.”

You ran a hand over your hair, “Yeah, I just need to... just need a minute. I’ll be fine. Sorry.”

The pause that followed felt like it lasted forever. You heard him sigh before his footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving you alone again. But you didn’t move.

Suddenly, there was another knock at the door. This one was different, more insistent. You thought it was Powder again—

You opened the door quickly, but the second it swung open, you were met with a wall of heat, and before you could think, lips were on yours.

Vi.

The shock of it made your breath catch in your throat, a jolt of heat flooding through you. She pushed into you with a force that made your head spin, her body pressing against yours as if she couldn’t get close enough. Her lips were hungry, desperate as if trying to drown out something—something that had been brewing between you two for far too long.

Everything you’d been holding in—the anger, the frustration, the confusion—came rushing out in a rush of heat and tension. You responded instinctively, your hands finding her arms and pulling her closer. She felt so real, so tangible at that moment, like she was a part of you you’d been missing without knowing it. Her grip on you was tight, almost painful as if she was trying to force her way back into your world.

She muttered something against your lips—quiet, persistent, over and over. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The words burned against your mouth, each one feeling like it was meant for you to swallow, to take in and process like some kind of penance. You didn’t stop, though. You couldn’t. You kissed her harder, deeper, your own emotions spilling out as you pulled her into you, letting the anger twist into something darker, something reckless.

The door slammed shut behind you with a force that made the walls rattle, and you imagined her kicking it closed, her body language sharp, desperate, like she couldn’t get away from what she was doing.

But just as suddenly as it had started, Vi pulled away, gasping for air, her breath ragged against your lips. Her eyes were wild, dark, but there was something else there too—something you couldn’t place. She wasn’t looking at you; she was looking through you as if she was trying to piece something together in her head.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You hissed, your voice low and rough, the words escaping before you could stop them. Your chest heaved with, heart pounding in your throat. “You don’t get to come in here and—”

“I’m sorry, I know,” she muttered, cutting you off. Her voice was strained, full of frustration and something else—guilt, maybe. “I’ve been... fuck. I’m sorry.”

Your mind spun, trying to make sense of it all, but the words felt hollow. It didn’t change the fact that she’d barged in, that this... whatever it was, was happening now. “You should be,” you snapped, the words sharp, your chest still tight with the weight of everything—of the anger and the hurt, and the confusion that had never really gone away.

“I don’t wanna let anyone down anymore. I don’t wanna let you down. I just... I didn’t think I was ready for this, for you," she breathed, her voice trembling just slightly. “I didn’t know how to deal with how I felt. I’ve always fucked things up, and this... this feels like another thing I’m about to ruin. Because I know you like me. And I like you too. A lot.”

“You shouldn’t have come at me like that tonight... Not like... that,” you said, voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

Vi nodded, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I know. I messed up. But I just... I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to fix it.”

You rolled your eyes, the corner of your mouth betraying a small grin. You couldn’t help it—you were a goner. Too far gone, far too smitten, tangled in your feelings for her. She could probably destroy you a dozen times over, and you’d still find yourself wanting more.

You moved closer, placing your hands over her chest before gently cupping her face. You willed her to believe you, forcing yourself to be brave even as the words felt foreign in your mouth. "One more. I’ll give you one more chance, Vi."

“That’s all I need,” she whispered, her voice low, full of intensity.

In an instant, the distance between you collapsed. One second, she was all taut, coiled tension, and the next, she was on top of you, her lips hot against your neck, leaving a trail of fire down your skin. One hand tangled in your hair, the other already lifting your skirt as her fingers brushed dangerously close, matching the rhythm of her tongue's movements against your pulse.

Her weight on top of you, even with clothes still between you, felt familiar. It was all the little things—the way she moved, the way her hand slipped down your leg, teasing, pulling back just as you thought you’d finally get what you wanted. Her kiss was fierce, her body pressing into yours in a way that made you feel both vulnerable and alive.

You realized just how much you’d missed this—the feel of her, the way she made your heart race and your breath hitch. The nights you had spent alone, replaying moments like these in your mind, when she would slip into your dreams like a ghost.

There had been nights—like that summer at Jayce’s and Mel’s engagement party—when she had drawn you to the edge again and again, leaving you gasping and frustrated, only to make you ache for more. You weren’t proud of it, but you'd replayed that night in your mind over and over when loneliness crept in—on bad days, or when you drank too much, and the restless feeling lingered even after you’d gotten yourself off. Nothing had ever compared to the way she made you feel.

It made you wonder—did she ever feel the same? Did she ever ache for you the way you had ached for her?

The bathroom was a reckless choice for this. But then again, life was too short for second-guessing. Clothes were discarded hastily, hands colliding with fabric, a belt buckle clanging against the floor. Every movement felt frantic, raw, desperate. She didn’t let you go, her body against yours as her fingers found their way to your skin, her breath hot and heavy on your neck.

“I miss you,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I miss you too.”

“Sorry I’m a dick.”

“I wouldn’t change a thing.”

You swear you would be in peace if it wasn’t for her. But this kept you on your toes, you guessed. The way you liked it.

part one

[imrllytootiredforthis]

wc: 1.1k .... i tried istg this is not what i intended to do, i tried to make this short :(

warnings: fem bodied reader, switchy? kinda power bottom reader, reader rec (vi wears a strap), titty worship (vi rec) both parties are very desperate, reader calls her cupcake, biting, marking, idk what else.

this is also perhaps based off a tiktok edit i saw....um anyway!!

she's over you, on top of you, whatever you want to call it. a hand clenches around your hip for dear life, the other one is beside your head to stabilize herself.

her tongue is in your mouth and her strap buried deep inside you.

her moans are needy and loud. even if every one is muffled and wet with the way you suck on her tongue, they're still loud enough to ring in your ears on repeat like a damn bell.

she kisses desperately, whines prettily, groans hungrily. like she's trying to devour you. like you're trying to consume her.

it's fucking disgusting, dirty and downright messy. saliva smeared across your face and her's; mixing with the residue cum on her face from when she ate you out. it makes her taste all the sweeter, makes you feel all the more feral, grabbing chunks of her black hair in your fists, dragging her in like she's the air you need to breathe.

It's like neither of you can get enough. like you're animals tussling on the streets with the way you howl, with the way she pants, with the way your nails dig into her back, drawing blood.

she growls into your skin. it's like she can feel the way your cunt clenches deliciously around the toy, feel the pulsing warmth of your pussy wrapped around her, sucking her in. feel every thrust as your heels dig into her back, pushing her, encouraging her.

her thrusts are needy, though they started out deep and hard, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. enough to knock the wind from your lungs with every thrust, brutal like she wished it were real so she could fill you up and steal your breath away like that.

but with prolonged time, even with all her muscles and power they've become more shallow, sloppy, slowed.

her thighs burn, her muscles ache.

it's fucking maddening.

you sound like a wounded animal.

"vi," you pant between kisses. "fuck," you hiss as she nudges against your g-spot harshly. "faster, go fucking faster."

her forehead presses against yours as she grunts in reply. sweat runs down her temples, smudging her black makeup further, her hair brushes over your skin.

you push it back, cupping her face as you stare into her eyes. she's tired, you can see it. she had a long day at the pits, you know that. you told her that it was okay if she was too tired, but she insisted, pulling back her hair and getting on her knees.

her lips find your's desperately, she whines into them, licking into your mouth.

your body screams for release.

fuck, sometimes you just have to,

she lets out a cute gasp when you move, messily rolling over through the soaked sheets before you come out on top.

your hands plant themselves on her chest, rolling her nipples with your fingers, curious to what noises you can elicit. she whines, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"shit, you're such a fucking liar" you say in that ragged, sex filled voice that makes her head spin. it doesn't help that you're pinching one to hear another one of those delicious noises. "my tits aren't sensitive, my ass."

"s-shut up."

this position isn't unheard of for you two, but you've always been one to lay back and let her do the work. playing with her tits is new though, since she'd always claimed that they didn't do anything for her.

that's not what her body told you now.

you lean down, hands never leaving her tits as you start kissing up her neck, lazily grinding your hips down, moaning at the delicious sparks of heat lighting up inside you. "this okay, cupcake?" you whisper.

her voice is a perfect mix of vulnerable and wanton, "y-yeah." you squeeze the fat of her tits, tugging at a nipple until her back arches up, thrusting into you unexpectedly.

your eyes roll back for a moment, mouth falling open. she does it again and you curse under your breath. "keep fucking doing that" she obeys easily.

"good girl." you pant as you lift your hips up for the first time, letting yourself fall back. "fuck," it feels better than you remembered.

you bury your face into her neck to hide your moans, nipping at her skin to distract yourself from the coursing waves of pleasure as her hands find their home on your hips.

you begin biting, sucking, leaving red marks that'll fade to purple. it'll go with her dark attire, warn off all those other bitches who watch her at the pits and think she's someone they can try to fuck.

they can't. she's fucking your's.

"you like that?" she lilts, head thrown back, eyes rolled back at the feeling of your hands and mouth all over her. she really shouldn't be talking but you can also do nothing but bury your teeth into her skin as a reply.

you're so fucking wet, and so fucking close. you can't fucking think. your lips trail down her neck, over her collarbone, and then sealing over her right boob, sucking onto it gently for a moment.

and then her fingers find your clit.

you jolt like you've been electrocuted, like there isn't lights bursting behind your eyes as they roll back, back arching, teeth sinking into her skin for the umpteenth time.

it'll leave a pretty bite mark surrounding her nipple.

it drives her more crazy. her fingers moving faster against the nub. the feeling of your warm mouth around like fucking heaven. her feet plant on the bed beneath her to drive up into you harder, faster, hitting places that you didn't even know about.

her hand on the back of your head, presses you closer to her, spit covering her chest as you cum.

the tension in you snaps, hitting you head on like a train as you came undone with a cry of her name. your body convulses over her, your thighs trembling on either side of her hips. she never stops rubbing your clit, and you never stop grinding, riding out your orgasm with a gasp until it starts to ache.

"stop." and the pressure is gone immediately.

giving her nipple one last shuddering lick, you rest your forehead against her collarbone, sighing.

no words are exchanged for a moment, no words need to be. fingers run through your hair, and a hand soothes lightly over your hip. you can hear her heard beating from here, hear her panting lightly.

you're panting too, closing your eyes before you work up enough energy to make the simply action of looking up at her, a wide grin across your face. "did you cum? from me playing with your nipples a little bit?"

she groans. "shut up."

a/n: this is not an invitation to ask me to start writing for sub reader n stuff, cause at it's core i don't really see this as sub reader, just letting everyone know cause i most likely won't write stuff like this like ever again

i was in a mood while writing this and while it might be shit cause i haven't written lots of stuff like this before, i hope you all enjoyed it!!

[mvmnbnv]

The more I think about that sex scene the more dread I feel about it

Because Vi is in such a vulnerable state of mind to where she kinda just does that shit on a whim, but with that emotional state would come so many levels of vulnerability.

So many that I can only imagine once she came down from her high there had to be some level of dread overtaking her after the fact.

When you're intimate and vulnerable, especially during sex when hormones are being released n whatnot, the best place you could be is somewhere safe. In your partners arms, in a safe, comfortable environment or whatever. Hell sometimes it can be so emotionally overwhelming you start crying. You'd definitely need a space where you know you're safe and cared for

Vi got a prison cell. With someone who looks down on her and who will be looking down on her when the high wears off. Her state of mind shows on one hand she doesn't care about herself, but on the other hand she has a need to be loved. I can't imagine she felt comfortable after how that played out even if she verbally implies she has no regard for herself

[vi-arcanes-left-biceps]

Spoilers for Arcane S2 Finale❗❗

So, i keep thinking about Arcane's last pieces of dialogue and though they sounded kinda funny when I watched the end at the first time (in a 'really? This took 27h to write?' way), the more I think about it, the more I like it.

I think it has a ton of layers to interpret and I'm still missing a few of them.

Please forgive my multiple tangents while I try to gather my thoughts.

First, how Caitlyn finds Vi: no bandages, a glass of alcohol in her hands.

No bandages means many things for Vi: she's vulnerable -both because of what she's going through and beacuse she can allow herself to be vulnerable for the first time in the show, with Caitlyn-, and her fight is over, she doesn't have to fight anymore (Re: Ep7 Powder saying Vi fights because she's scared of losing everyone, and she has lost everyone). (Everyone but Ekko and Caitlyn, who have repeatedly proven they can fend for themselves and are leaders on their own right, I'd love to say Vi is in a point where she's able not to feel responsible for them too, though this is something I'm not so sure about). Bandages were also an important part of her character design, of herself, so this gives a sensation that she's lost a part of her identity too. Who is she, if not the big sister, the protector, the brawler?

Alcohol is another small details that just says she's not okay. We've seen her drink herself senseless for, presumably, months, in Act II, to cope with all that happened in S1 and particularly S2 Act I: accepting the loss of her sister after the attack on the council, becoming an enforcer even though she was completely against it because she still feels responsible for ending Jinx, recognising her sister again for just a glimpse and gaining faith that Powder is still there (with the realisation that she almost killed her sister -not the monster she convinced herself jinx was, her sister) falling in love with Cait and seeing her become a completely different person out of grief.... So after everything that just happened in Act III, where she saw that many people die, either strangers or friends, and where she lost her sister and father AGAIN, of course she's considering getting back to drinking. So much happened to her in the span of few months that she's considering drowning the pain away again.

Caitlyn's question: "Are you still in this fight, Violet?"

The line delivery is incredibly soft and intimate, and Cait calling her Violet is the cherry on top. She's knows Vi is not okay. She's knows she's going through a lot right now.

Caitlyn's question seeing this is really, at least, three questions:

First and clearest is a check-in: "How are you?" "Will you be okay?" "Do you want to talk about this?"

Second is "Are you staying?" Vi could leave to be alone as she did at the beginning of Act II, could go with Ekko to Zaun... I can also see an "Are you staying with me?" After everything that happens, after the little time that they've had to be together and to solve the many things between them, her asking "Are you still in this fight" can mean both "hey, are you holding up" and "Are we still together in this?"

Third would be "So, are you up to face this, solving things between Piltover and Zaun?". I know some people have criticized the lack of resolution in the Zaun/Piltover conflict. I'd argue, as much as I'd love for the class conflict to be expanded, it is not the core of the series, and both the writers and the characters know that a conflict like this cannot be solved in such little time. The series was not going to solve it. What it does is solve it's main plot and character arcs, and leave a space for this theme to have the start of a resolution. Piltover an Zaun joined against Ambessa's army, and the ending gives us a glimpse of the will to change the relationship between topside and bottom (e.g. having Zaunites in the council). It's not a perfect ending nor it is a resolution for Zaun's class struggle -I'm pretty sure that was never the intent, though I would have liked for both cities' relationship to be more comented upon in this season-, it's the opportunity to advance towards a resolution. So Cait is asking Vi if she is willing to deal with that too. "Are you still in this fight?" can also have an implication to mean fighting to make things better. This also means fighting for them to be together.

Then, Vi's answer: "I am the dirt underneath your fingernails, Cupcake. Nothing's gonna clean me out".

Now, I like this because it sums up to Vi saying "I'm not going anywhere" but the line itself and the delivery gives it a few more layers of meaning.

First of all, Vi is clearly not okay. She's very emotionaly scarred and considering an unhealthy coping mechanism. She looks incredibly sad. And she's deflecting with humour to the question because she's probably not ready to talk about it. So her delivery here, plus the strange joke/comparison and calling Caitlyn "Cupcake" (which she's only done when she's teasing her in a flirty or funny way or deflecting the conversation by doing so) is telling Caitlyn that she's not okay right now, but that she isn't going to leave. "

I interpret "Nothing's gonna clean me out" as her basically saying "I'm tough, I'll get through this" to Caitlyn's "How are you?" and saying "You're not getting rid of me" to Caitlyn's "Are you going to stay?"

Furthermore, calling herself "The dirt underneath your fingernails" has an obvious implication about her being a Zaunite and Caitlyn being from Pilotover. I've seen some people saying this is insulting to Vi's character and to Zaun's storyline.... I don't think so at all. Yeah, I can get to see a layer of self-depreciating humor, but for me this is Vi using her humour as well to reinforce herself and her identity as a Zaunite (which arguably she left aside/lost sight of during Act I) while also teasing Caitlyn for being a topsider. I like to interpret this as Vi saying "Yeah, Piltie, I'm sticking with you and I will keep bothering you". The tone and calling Cait "Cupcake" reinforces this as a tease as well. Reinstating her identity as a Zaunite also gives insight on Vi's position on the Zaun-Piltover new relationship: yes, she's willing to help out manage this, always from the position of a kid from the Lanes.

Zaun and Piltover are also stuck together after the ending - they've fought together against a common enemy and that has also forced Piltover's elite to sit and listen to Zaun's demands. For sure Piltover's aristocracy still has to get their heads out of their asses but this is how I like to read the phrase in regards to Zaun-Piltover, layered upon what Vi is saying: I am the dirt underneath you = I (Zaun's state and problems) am a consequence of your (Piltover's) actions and I am not going anywhere. (You will have to listen).

Anyways, lots of rambling and I'll still be missing stuff!

Another thing is, native spanish speakers as I am use the phrase "Nail and flesh" to say that two people are inseparable, and this has enough similarity to that for it to feel like Vi is also saying they are inseparable. So yeah

[drewdoa]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ arcane goes gardening <3 • hcs/scenarios !

ˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n: hello :)) this is so me coded it’s scary LMAO but i had to since i also enjoy gardening <3 hopefully this is something i can write about more cause omg i can’t get enough of this

ˋ°•*⁀➷ extra info: suggestive moments while intoxicated, cnc touching, no gender specific reader, a whole lot of flirting ;)

jinx

would be such a lady and always light you up. it’s her favorite thing honestly, she usually carries a lighter around you now because of it. you found out she started smoking cause you found her box un covered on her desk, not that she had a problem with you seeing it of course, but more of just “hey you kinda wouldn’t expect that from me!”. but you did, which is the funniest part.

making her way down the stairs as the sound of metal pieces clank together, she turned her head to see you standing there by her chair. as jinx made her way down the last few steps she greeted you with a kiss, a passionate one at that. she noticed one of your hands was holding the half finished joint, beautifully wrapped with purple rolling paper.

she looked back at you with an innocent face. “could ya blame me? i even made some for you too darlin’” she said softly, moving the box and pulling the few untouched ones behind her books. “i couldn’t keep it alll to myself”

this ended up with you guys seshing every evening, especially on nights where it’s foggy. less likely to get caught since you’ve got vi and caitlyn to worry about. they can’t let the council know you two have “drugs” around enforcers.

because of that fact though, she picked up baking and learned to make infused pastries! you came back to her place as the scent of trees and cookies followed immediately. it took you a lot of power to not steal one while jinx was icing them <3

i feel like this ties to her growing in the undercity but when she was younger with silco he taught her how to roll. as bad as that sounds..i would say she learned by watching more than him actually teaching her. she would take papers and filters here and there and just practice all the time. making comments about how the colors of the paper were pretty every time he got a new pack.

ugh she’s so a good kisser when stoned it’s un real. you’ve told her about it once and she laughed at you, but you were serious. “i think maybe YOU were a little too high, i kiss you like that all the time!”. she would protest every time until one night both of you got extremely touchy, and one thing led to another. safe to say, you were not too high <3

viktor

my man absolutely loves weed. even attempted (and successfully managed) to grow his own. knowing viktor, lets be honest, he’s gotta have some secret rooms or spaces to do his own shit. like he genuinely lives in the lab how could he resist. so, one late night he told you to come by, which is pretty rare for him since he really is a workaholic. by the time you got there viktor had everything set up, pretty lights everywhere, he looked handsome, and it was just the two of you<3

time goes by and both of you are sitting near a window, he pulls out a small book and gives it to you. as you examine the cool old leather, he opens the book with his fingertips, to the pages on the inside carved out. it would hold a lighter and 3 joints perfectly wrapped in pink rolling paper.

viktor smirked at you, “i thought you’d get a kick out of the pink, dítě (baby)”. he motioned for you to take one as he grabbed the lighter out the book. as you pressed the paper against your lips, the crack of the lighter followed as you took the first hit . or two, or three.

you passed it to him not long after, his gaze fixed on your face and your eyes as you became more and more intoxicated. as he took a few pulls himself he put it out on the windowsill. both of you sitting there relaxed as ever, in the most vulnerable position.

since then, he would leave you joints in the pocket of your jackets. always with a little note on the side. he would also throw in pieces of candy with it too incase you craved something sweet.

one night you came into the lab after taking an edible jayce and jinx gave you. they of course didn’t mention they were infused, but your first instinct was to find viktor before it really hit you. he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek wrapping his hand around your waist. you then explain to him why you’re really there and he lets out a low giggle. “they really played you huh?” he followed with as his hand slid up your side. his cold hands made it even worse to ignore the feeling. skin to skin, he wasn’t joking when he said he was into it.

usually when you’re stoned and all up on him, he takes such advantage of it in the best way possible. his hands are almost always touching you, teasing and making you feel good without overwhelming you. sometimes you don’t even notice hickeys on your body until you’re fully sober. of course when you went to ask viktor about it he tries to play it off, but the blush on his cheeks and the smile he can’t hide say otherwise<3

silco

a guy who favors cigars but weed just for you. i feel like his hands are shakey sometimes now so he has trouble rolling, especially all those years of teaching jinx he’s earned a break. hence why he surprised you one day with a bong. see through red glass and shaped like two cherries. he thought you wouldn’t mind it, especially since you’ve been talking about getting a new one.

at first you were nervous to open the box once he told you it was glass (..shocked he didn’t break it himself) but it was totally worth being careful cause it’s the coolest thing you’ve ever received. he even got you a cute lighter that matches.

during nights where he’s up and can’t sleep he’ll pull you over so cuddle and sesh together. having your back against his chest as the sound of his cigar popping and burning fills your ears. you would be using the bong here, practically hotboxing his office and laughing when people walk in to you both higher than the sky.

i feel like he would also have a special drawer dedicated to all his trees. and then have a special compartment for all your stuff <3 refilling things when you run out so you never go a moment without, it’s the father tendency in him.

i think his favorite saying is “you need a break, mon cherie” as he drags you into his office for a sesh. he never really cares if you have “one more thing to finish”, he doesn’t want you overworking yourself, that’s his job really!

if you both had to go somewhere around people (after seshing) he would totally just give you his clothes. next thing you know both of you are matching, you smell like him, and honestly you look great in his coat. he’s also definitely the type to check on you often incase you smoked a little too much and can’t handle it. “mon amor are you feeling alright?” “do you feel okay, love?” “is this too much for you, sweetie?”

sevika

she’s so mama ugh. nothing but the best from sevika honestly. she’s always prepared for you with anything you ask for. she always has her cigars and such but there’s a special part just for you.

since you’re with her almost all the time, you’ve grown to find comfort in the scent of cigars. even the clothes you wear end up smelling like it, but you don’t mind, all you think about is her. it took her some time to get used to you though, but what caught her the most is that you..weren’t afraid of her?

she hasn’t met many people that match her freak, so it was a big refresher when you came along. but her favorite moment will always be when she caught you smoking in her room. sevika’s huge frame leaned on the doorway as she watched the smoke leave your body. you put your arm out with a j in your hand and motioning her to come sit with you. immediately the door closed as sevika sat on the bed and pulled you into her lap.

“how often do you do this without me?” sevika questioned, looking down at your red hazy eyes. “high eyes have always been gorgeous, yours especially, sweetheart”. sevika thought of these moments as core memories, since she doesn’t usually have time alone with you.

when munchies kick in it’s wraps for you guys. kitchen dates are what mainly pull you two together. i feel like cooking is such a good love language and it doesn’t get talked about enough. (i saw someone point out the fact sevika is obviously an indian queen so that also is gonna apply here <3). she’s very much a fan of cooking dishes from her country and having you try each and every one of them.

totally the type to baby you when you’re bedrotting while high. definitely pulls you on top of her when sleeping to feel your warmth. or you both end up wrapped so tight in blankets you can’t move off eachother ;)). speaking of, in the winter time her room gets extremely cold so both of you guys end up making robes out of her blankets (take viktor styling jayce’s blanket for example<3). she hangs every one of them in her closet during the warmer weather <3

˚₊ · »-♡→ heyy ;)) i hope this fic was enjoyable <3 more of my content will have themes surrounding cannabis/smoking so that’s just a heads up ^_^ if you liked this please reblog & like! it would be very appreciated <3 - drew

[umi-adxhira]

TWTPTFLOB TURNS INTO ANIMALS

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to the glorious @orngbanana. Btw Charlotte, Maria, Sierra, and Sylvia are all platonic

I. ROXANNA AGRICHE - MOTH

A very pretty yellow moth with red accents, similar to the poison butterflies but with more of a sheen

She stays with you most of the time, perched on the top of your head or on your finger if you're wearing a hood

You had to research what moths eat because you didn't want her to die (she thanked you once she turned back)

Jeremy wanted to look after her for a while, so you agreed. Unbeknownst to you, he didn't know that moths are attracted to light

He set fire to some logs in a forest during the night when on a mission and was startled when his sister was moving towards the fire (bro was scared shitless)

After returning her to you, you decided to read a book in the gardens. Roxanna was resting on a button on your gown, as you both read the pages

Overall a very well behaved moth 10/10

II. DION AGRICHE - HOUND DOG

A black-purpely dog with bright red eyes (they glow in the dark bro trust) with rough fur yet fluffy ears

He rests his head on your lap to pass the time. He doesn't want to lean into dog stereotypes where you throw him a bone or dog toy, and he races to catch it (you did it once, he was not amused)

Kinda like your guard dog, bit Fontaine in the ass one time when he was talking to you and barked at servants to leave you both alone

He doesn't like to admit it, but he likes having his ears rubbed. He unconsciously wags his tail and you refuse to let him know that

He refuses to admit he's a dog. He tried walking into Lante's office and was promptly escorted out, not without a bark or two

Licks your hand when you eat food when there's some sauce or crumbs left. It's not that different when he was human, but it's cuter now

Overall 9/10 (+2 if he allows cuddles)

III. JEREMY AGRICHE - CAT

Small blue cat. Idc fight with the wall but cat Jeremy is a baby

NEEDS to be touching you. He went to sleep on the pillow next to your head and woke up with his ass in your face

He can be a bit much, so attaching a small bell on your dress, and he'll be pawing at you for hours, or until he gets hungry

Sometimes, you hand him over to Roxana, and when she hands him back, you hear stories on how her brother tackled one of his younger siblings to the ground by scratching their face. It was funny, according to her

Gives your face licks when he wants your attention, and nuzzles into your neck when he's feeling eepy

I feel like at one point when he was drinking milk from a bowl, Dion saw and tipped Jeremy into the bowl, and he was just drowning, wailing at you to come save him

Overall 8/10 good kitty

IV. LANTE AGRICHE - DOG

Similar dog to Dion, but just bigger ngl. As his favourite spouse, you are tasked at looking after him (good luck)

He works all the time, so him being a dog is a blessing in disguise. He expects to be treated like a King

He refuses to go out of his room. Assassins could come to kill him in his vulnerable state, or worse, his own children

Barks almost constantly, when he wants something from the servants and they're just there like ??? because they can't understand dog (he kills them after)

Refuses to be at your feet. He needs a pedestal so he can feel superior to you even as a dog

Overall 4/10

V. SYLVIA PEDELIAN - BUTTERFLY

The most beautiful butterfly ever. Silver-blue wings with yellow accents

She actually spends most of her time with her brother, but he feels bad for you so he told (ordered) her to spend time with you

Actually feels bad and tries to do things to cheer you up, even though she can't really do much since she's a butterfly

Tries to impress you with cool tricks, which just makes her dizzy in the end, but they're amusing

Overall 6/10

VI. CASSIS PEDELIAN - DOG

A chihuahua. Partly because I think he would be small but also because I really like chihuahuas, and I'm not even a dog person

Quite similar to Jeremy in terms of attention. While he's quite independent for a dog, he still likes to lick your face awake and give you nuzzles

Sleeps on your lap or chest with a tiny blanket on top of him. He finds the normal ones too stuffy on his body and needs something light

If you don't pet him once every three hours, he will literally die. He may seem like he doesn't care, but he just sits in your peripheral vision sadly wagging his tail

Can actually jump really high. Jumped from the foot of the bed in the edge to the dead middle of it, and landed on all fours (our little acrobat)

Overall 8/10 very cuddly dog

VII. CHARLOTTE AGRICHE - DOG

Smaller than Cassis, bigger attitude than Lante. A red dog with green eyes and almost spiky fur

She bit someone in the ass for funsies not knowing who she bit because she can't see that far above her (it was Dion)

Likes running around the place until she gets tired, then gets annoyed when you haven't caught up yet

5/10 because she's cute

VIII. GRISELDA AGRICHE - FOX

Brown. Idk man

Very respectful, very mindful, very demure

She's also independent. She doesn't need to be touching you all the time, she's fine with just resting near you

She nudges your thigh with her head if she wants something, but that's about all the contact she makes

She'll notice you being sad that she doesn't want to touch you, so instead, she'll rest on your lap, and you play with her fur (she falls asleep to it)

9/10

IX. MARIA AGRICHE - SNAKE

Okay, no

Slithers around everywhere, especially to wherever Sierra is

Since she's s snake, Sierra doesn't mind hanging out with her, despite the fact that she's mildly scared of snakes

Gets lost easily. You have to get Fontaine, Jeremy or Dion to help you find her (they all say no)

Overall that slippery bastard is a 4/10

X. SIERRA AGRICHE - MOUSE

Can and will hide under the cabinet shaking in fear so Maria doesn't find her (she finds her anyways)

Roxana looks after her with you, so she doesn't get herself killed

Will sleep under a pillow, just high enough that she can breathe but not too high that someone will notice she's under there

Overall 6/10 (+1 if she doesn't hide that much)

©️umi-adxhira [18/10/2024]

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XXI

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself, but... as for this part in particular, this is mostly half-ish fluff.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX

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

“I know what you’re thinking,” Suguru said not even glancing at the white-haired boy who was keeping a steady but disturbing look on him since earlier that afternoon. “And to be clear now, it’s not like that,” he reiterated, brown eyes finally meeting the accusing blue ones.

“I know, I know...” he heard Satoru replied in a not so convinced tone, but the scrutinizing look remained.

“I thought we were past this,” Suguru muttered as he laid on his bed and busied himself with a new book he had gotten that week.

Suguru could swear on whatever Gojo asked him to, that he was just trying to comfort you. He had seen you bit down since Ikeda had left for who knows where, but training sessions always seemed to lighten your mood, so Suguru had kept on training with you.

Once in a while, Gojo would join or just sit and watch, no issues there. But that afternoon, it had been just Suguru and you, and while you were taking a break after a sparring session, he had brought up the idea of going to the spring festival that was being held in the city that weekend. Alas, your reaction had not been what he expected.

“It’s been a while since all of us went out, right? It’ll be fun,” Geto said with his ever-light smile.

“That festival?” Geto saw your eyes started losing some of the spark they always had after a good fight, “I think I’ll pass…” What he saw then was a sad smile on your face, “It’s just… “

You explained to him that Haruki had promised to take you to that festival too, saying every year it was livelier and more beautiful than the last; the decorations, the food, the fireworks at night… Of course he would not fulfill that promise now, not that one, not any other.

“I know it’s lame… I really don’t want to miss him, but I do,” you admitted. “You guys should still go. I heard this year they are really going all out…”

You did not notice how your voice had lowered, but Suguru did. “There is nothing wrong with missing someone.”

He could not help but to compare your current mood to how you used to brim with excitement about your friend. Unfortunately, Suguru was not like Shoko, and he was not sure of what you needed to hear in this situation, nor was he like Satoru, who seemed to know what you needed even when you did not want to see anyone. So, he did the only thing that he could think of: he hugged you.

To say it surprised you to have Suguru’s arms around you would have been an understatement; he was not the type to initiate that sort of contact with you, but it still conveyed his message: you are not alone.

And after a moment, you and he noticed, you were in fact, not alone.

“Is this what they call training now?” Satoru appeared behind of you with a mocking smile on his semblance.

Instinctively, you and Suguru separated. Gojo would definitely tease you both for looking so vulnerable when you were supposed to be training to become stronger, but if you were waiting for another quip, it never came. Satoru was too busy directing a questioning look to his other friend.

When they were alone, Suguru tried to make it clear to Satoru that you were fine; what he had seen in the training grounds was just a nice gesture between friends, and that the look he had given him was not necessary, but he was not having much success in putting the matter to rest.

After all, even if Satoru was okay with him and Shoko being your friends, he still was a little too protective of you sometimes, and after seeing what had happened with the last person you had become too fond of, Suguru could not blame him for worrying a little.

“Satoru, you know Ieiri and I just want to be there for them, right?” Suguru finally said to him. “That’s what friends are supposed to do, so let us help, okay? We won’t take them from you.”

***

When Satoru opened his eyes, it was still dark outside.

It was odd for him to have dreams like those. He was used to little sleep and unpleasant dreams he would force himself to forget after waking up, but dreaming about his old best friend the way he had been in high school was... bittersweet. That was the Suguru that had been your friend and his, but also the one that had left.

What would he say if he could see him like this, dinning at your place, sleeping in your bed, accommodating himself in your life, now looking so comfortable with the feelings he had always denied?

Satoru smiled at the thought and turned to look at your sleeping form. He should have seen it coming.

While he was confident in his feelings now, for some reason, the words he had read earlier still bothered him.

“My affections and wishes are unchanged.” -I.H.

Satoru had never seen that book in your apartment before, and he knew you and Haruki had somewhat resumed your friendship now that he was back, but had he really written that for you recently?

He knew better than to jump to conclusions based on a badly written line on the inside of a random book. Maybe Ikeda had not written it for you at all; and even if he had, he may not have meant anything by it. He had been gone for years, right? He would not hold onto a high school crush after all this time, would he?

Satoru suddenly remembered the Ikeda that he had seen that night in front of your building, you and him smiling to each other, how he had leaned down…

He shook his head, wanting to forget it.

He would, of course he would.

He turned again. If he kept thinking about that, he would not sleep.

Did he have any right to ask you to explain what your relationship with that man was now? Was he just a friend who wanted to be there for you, a friend of yours Satoru was supposed to trust? Because he was not sure he could do it if Ikeda himself did not want to remain as just a friend as he had oh-so-kindly clarified in the past.

“Why should it bother me?”

“I like them.”

To think he would still remember that guy’s voice after so long….

Satoru closed his eyes and tried to ignore the memory of that evening, the certainty in the boy’s words, his own inability to say anything back, and the echo of an approaching train.

***

You watched Satoru generously poured some more syrup over his pancakes while he told you he had cancelled his plans for earlier so he was able to have breakfast with you.

“Well, ‘cancelled’ is probably not the right way to put it. I just had Ijichi take care of it.”

Isn’t that too much syrup?

“He complained a bit, but this is nice,” he gestured to the breakfast he had almost burned a few minutes ago, “don’t you think?”

You took the syrup from him.

“I think that’s enough,” you said looking at his plate. “And…” you sat down back on your seat in front of him, “I also think you should be nicer to Ijichi. You can't just boss him around like that all the time.”

“He owed me one,” Satoru gave you a sweet smile before digging in on his plate.

Since he was busy with his meal, you talked. “I will need to go out for a bit but will be back later. Do you want to have dinner at that place from last time?”

Satoru shook his head. “Let’s try something different this time.”

Him wanting to try different restaurants was not weird, but what he said next almost got you choking on your pancakes.

“Let’s go on a date.”

***

“We don’t need to do that, Satoru… I mean, aren’t dates just like going out for food or coffee? We do that all the time,” you tried to smile at him despite how odd you found his proposition.

“Maybe, but I think it should be fun, no?”

That was how you ended up walking next to Satoru in a museum among some of the most valuable works of the Edo period.

You had to give him some credit; it had been a while since you and him had gone to an exhibit, and he had actually dressed up for you.

Not that Satoru had ever been under-dressed for any occasion, and he certainly had the charm to make the most simple outfit look stylish, but this time he was purposely wearing the shirt you had given him for his last birthday because you had said it would look good on him even if it was not from a well-known designer, and the cologne he knew you liked because you always told him he smelled nice when he wore it.

“Many of these are not pretty, don’t you think?” Satoru had leaned down and whispered in your ear, giving a side eye to the piece you were admiring.

You smiled. “You know? The impression of the smart, cultured man you give really loses credibility when you say things like that.”

“You think I’m smart and cultured?” You could see the smirk growing on his face despite the lighting that was meant to focus all attention on the artwork, leaving the visitors poorly illuminated.

Satoru looked good with or without good lightning, and he knew it, so you would not add up to his ego.

“Of course not.” You took a few steps to the next piece.

Satoru smiled as he watched you move from one print to another. You were on a date with him, so even if you were teasing him, he did not care.

To his credit, he did like some kinds of art and was not such a bad critic of composition and relevance when he would actually pay attention to an art piece, but now, his main focus was on you.

***

“I didn’t know you could eat that much,” you grinned.

“There are many things you don’t know about me.” Satoru winked in your direction.

You laughed. “I know you since you were six. I'd dare say, there isn’t much I don’t know about you.”

“I can think of a few things.”

You and he were walking on your way back from the sushi restaurant where Satoru had invited you to dinner to finalize your date, and his statement made you stop and look at him to challenge him.

“Name one,” you said.

His smirk was that of a winner. “I don’t know how to tie a necktie.”

You rolled your eyes. “I knew that. It’s always been me or Shoko doing it for you, dummy.”

You also thought he knew how to do it but was just too lazy for it.

He took a step further, still smiling. “What about this? I still watch Digimon sometimes.”

“I’m not impressed… I saw your Digimon boxers.” You tried to suppress a laugh but failed when looking at his expression. “They were in your laundry room last time.”

He laughed, and the light flush on his cheeks made him look younger. “Why did you go through my laundry?”

“I didn’t! You had them hanging there for any unfortunate eyes to see.” You took another step back and he, another one closer. “Don’t tell me you are wearing them now.”

“Wouldn't you like to find out?” You were both chuckling. and as you took another step back, you realized Satoru was much closer than before.

He had taken off his sunglasses from earlier. He did that often around you, these days more than ever, as if he wanted to see you without obstruction, as if he wanted you to know he was looking at you.

“Not fair…” he was still smiling but his voice was lower, and your back finally made contact with the wall behind you. “You know this much, but I don’t know everything about you, do I?”

He was not just joking; you were not being fair. You did not tell him about the proposal from the Zen'in clan; he did not know what the situation was with Ikeda, and more importantly, Satoru was not sure of where you wanted things to go now that he had confessed his feelings for you.

I said I did not need an answer now, but are you at least thinking about it, [name]?

Satoru knew there would be no turning back if you started something, if you told him that you loved him as he loved you.

“You don’t? I’m a bit offended.” You tentatively raised your hand to touch the collar of Satoru’s shirt. You had recognized it immediately when he had shown up that afternoon.

I was right, it looks good on him.

“I heard the most hilarious rumor recently.” Satoru wanted you to touch more than just his clothes, but he wanted answers too. “About you on the verge of making me attend your wedding with a Zen'in.”

Your hand froze. The fabric of his shirt was extremely soft, contrary to the look in his eyes that seemed to want to read through you.

Who told you about that?

No. If Satoru had not told you from the start, he would probably not tell you now. In any case, he had you cornered, both figuratively and physically.

You averted your gaze and tried to keep the mood playful. “As if you would have attended.”

No, I wouldn’t have. Over my dead body you would marry into that hideous clan.

Seeing how he was not going to play along, you sighed. “It was nothing. They summoned me a couple months ago, and I told them I wouldn’t marry them, and that was the end of it.”

Was it? They had been insistent but eventually left you alone, or so you thought.

Satoru tried to find your gaze again. “Why didn’t you tell me? If they are still bothering you…”

“They asked me not to comment on it with anyone, since my response was… not what they expected.”

As if there was a reason why they should have expected you to accept, those fools.

“And they’ve let me alone, so it’s alright.” Satoru’s skin was warm when your hand touched his face.

He leaned into your touch. “Who was it?”

Now, that was something you were not supposed to disclose either, and you did not want Satoru to try to take the matter into his own hands.

“Don’t go looking for trouble. You have Megumi you care about.”

“I know... He’s not like them, you know? Won’t ever be.”

You mouthed ‘I know’.

And you did, you trusted him to protect that kid just as he always tried protecting his students.

There were other things Satoru wanted to ask, but your eyes staring into his and the proximity were making his mind deviate. He had felt that before with you, too warm, too at ease, so much that he could forget the world.

He brushed his nose against yours. “Did you know I really want to kiss you now?”

The street was deserted but for you too, but it still hit you that he was asking for a kiss in a place where any passerby or curious neighbor could see.

Still, you pulled him in because you wanted to kiss him too, and when your lips connected, albeit unsaid, the same thought flashed through your minds.

We cannot go back to how we were.

And if there had been such neighbor who wanted to open their curtains to glance into the peaceful darkness outside, or such passerby with business to attend in the middle of the night, when they noticed the couple on the street, they would most certainly think they were just another pair of lovers, because who would mistake them for friends?

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

Note: I almost feel tempted to end everything here, even if that was not my original plan lol.

Thanks for reading!

Next: Part XXII

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff @cheesemachine44 @tetsuski @rosellerinfrost @catowru @bi-narystars @wondermilka

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

Honestly it’s the fact that Vi was the only one Cait could feel vulnerable enough to cry around and the slow building of that wall to block her out that kills me

It really does. And with everything that happens, I’m kinda sad we don’t get to see more of that grief outside of the plot like we did in the scene of Caitlyn breaking down which was even plotty in of itself with her giving Vi the badge, although the tent scene was nice.

Caitlyn eventually saying that it’s ‘in Vi’s blood’ felt SO wrong. Completely stripped Vi of her personhood.

Caitlyn and Vi grew to be each other’s people in such specific circumstances, but things have changed and they don’t live in that little vacuum anymore. They don’t get to play vigilante and bond on how they just want the world to be good.

Caitlyn wanted to see the real world and now she thinks she’s seen it, and she kind of has, but she doesn’t recognize the context as much as we’d hope.

This simply isn’t the same Caitlyn who scolded her mother about the apathetic government she is a part of. Not even the same Caitlyn from the first episode of season 2 where she acknowledged a raid would get civilians caught in the crossfire. Vi can’t just ask Caitlyn not to change, because that’s not how that works, but I really respect Vi for trying to ground Caitlyn and maybe even remind her of who she was and what her goals used to be. I wish we’d seen Caitlyn acknowledge her change, cause I know she knows it’s happening, and maybe even dismiss her naive and misinformed past self after promising Vi she wouldn’t change because she thinks the change is necessary.

It’s just too much happening at a time and they don’t have the time to sit and think. Caitlyn’s being consumed by grief through politics and Vi’s somewhat apolitical nature just don’t fit right now. Caitlyn needs to snap to her senses and Vi needs to figure out what part she wants to play for herself.

If not, this miscommunication and disconnection will only get worse and Caitlyn will keep thinking that Vi is her enemy when she’s nothing of the sort.

[soft-cristobalite]

Watched arcane season 2 act 1, thought abt it, so here are some of my thoughts in no particular order. Obvious spoilers.

Also, i watched in dub. Important to know when i am quoting charaters + when i am talking about their tone.

Starting of with something that is directly affected by dub — ukrainian Jayce is my Jayce. Ppl said he sounded condesending while talking to Ekko — not. at. alllll. true for my Jayce. My Jayce sounded tired, emotionaly burn out. "You drink tea, Ekko?" said with no though to it, in a context of continues talking of "Haha do i live here? Hahah....... Do you guys want tea? Want some tea? I'll make tea. Do you drink tea, Ekko?". But d-dub is supposed to stay true to the original— I DONT CAREEE. I love my blorbo almost-himbo Jayce, never changing his characterisation in my mind.

And i will hold Jayce's hand when i say this — you were. Just so gay for like... Essentialy going "Are you okay? Good, good" to lady Mel Medarda HERSELF and then seeing Victor and losing your mind. Sprinting with him in your hands to your lab. LIVING in your lab to monitor him. I just... I get it, you don't have many friends. But like...... Really dude. Reaally.

Give Mel and Ekko thirty minutes. I promise you they would work it out. Eternal piece would be achieved.

I know there are a lot of different opinions regarding Caitlyn. I will not be explaining in-depts what i think about her acr, because a) who cares and b) i like to see her go cray-cray. But like — why isnt anybody exept for Vi attempting to stop her??? Like why is Jayce mourning Victor's twink death instead of, yk, stopping his childhood-best-friend-kinda-younger-sister from killing ppl of Zaun, the last thing Victor wants btw? She and Vi are twenty-ish — WHYYYY are they going through it by themselves??? Why doesnt baby yoda guy with German name that i dont dare to write trying to stop the daughtrer of his ex-collegue? He is 600 or something, im sure he could've come up with advice.

Cait pointing her gun at a child is terrifying, it opens up the possibilities of her going even more blinded with anger, doing even more horrific things, and Vi is right to try and stop her. However... I know damn right i would've believe her when she said she will not miss 😭 Every single time she fired her gun she was very precise. Even in that scene she aimed at the gun the girl was holding like two seconds ago and got a perfect. fucking. score. Like i dont remember her missing at all, actually.

"Ohhhhh you're gonnnaaa haaaaaattteeee Maddie after act two—" says who? On that note, i hope both Cait AND Vi will sleep with a few random people. Good for them. Let them try to forget about each other only to realise just how down bad they are for one another. Let the scenes of Cait and Maddie hooking up intertwine with Vi's one night stand.

"Maddie is just gonna be a victim of comander Cait :(((" and i do not have any thing to say to that — we dont yet KNOW what will happen — but I dont think Cait will try to manipulate her into this. I think Maddie will flirt a bit, Cait will try and seek salvage and vulnerability in someone, especially since she is now constantly in public's eye and needs to project hope™ and stoicism™. It will be a genuine attempt to move on — not anybody's fault she can't.

But oh god, oh goooddd i cant wait for Maddie to loose the spark in her eyes due to lesbian situationship.

[vesora]

is law of assumption real? yeah

i have come across an individual vilifying the loa community and i find their statements kinda funny and stupid but i love having my beliefs challenged bc i can know why i believe in this. please also read my response to this other girl who thought loa ppl were crazy. it is ok to think if it’s crazy. ur welcome to criticize it. also, i am using aesthetic pictures bc of my ocd, i need things to be divided.

this is for the people who want to listen whether LOA is real from MY perspective:

firstly, i was primed for law of assumption from a young age. this means that i experienced many and i mean MANY spiritual things from a young age. i saw spirits (not hallucinations, it was my dead grandma who i had never seen and i described her down to her ring to my dad and he started crying because it was her), started speaking french at random points without ever having consciously learned the language, heard random piano compositions in my ear which i had never heard before, had visions which protected me/warned me about the future/informed me about the future and many manyyy more things. this proves to me the power of the subconscious mind.

the difference between someone who was born with their third eye awakened versus someone who has no spiritual experiences + is not open-minded to it, is that they will view spiritual phenomena from a materialistic practical sense.

this is saddening, because humans before being impacted by materialism were so spiritual and we were the ones who created the pyramids and all the structures you see on earth. we did that.

anyways,

is it real?

my opinion: yes. 

no i am not in a cult waiting to pounce on the next vulnerable piece of meat. in fact, my future career is removing people out of cults and helping trafficking victims but anyways.

i have manifested things far beyond logic. you know how and why? because manifestation is the most basic human trait. and awakening to the fact that you are the creator of your reality is the most liberating amazing feeling and practice. i manifested one of my dying cats becoming free of cancer. that is not luck. that is manifestation. i manifested bad circumstances away. not luck, manifestation. i manifested all my exes leaving me the SAME way because i had assumed they would. not a coincidence, manifestation. there is definitely a lot we don’t know about the universe. i can’t say with certainty that all things are attributed to us which is also why i hate any form of victim blaming. but one thing is for sure is that humans have more control over our lives than we think. we don’t need a divine presence outside of us to dictate us the circumstances in OUR lives.

also, law of assumption is not law of attraction. law of attraction is “AHHH DONT THINK BAD THOUGHTS OR U WILL GET BAD JUJU” very fear-based, also seen in dogmatic religions. law of assumption uses a CBT based approach to change assumptions and therefore, influence reality. you have every right to not believe in this and even chastise me for it, i understand. however, i know this is real for me.

i was a victim of many racist attacks, however, as soon as i decided that the outside world is safe for me, i never had ONE negative experience. is this a coincidence? not for me, no. this is a human taking control of their life. this is a human not bound by societal expectations and leaning into divine energy and expressing the truest essence of one’s self. i am not blaming myself for being a victim, it is the racist’s fault. i am not blaming other victims, it is the perpetrators’ fault. however, if there is any fucking chance i can help a victim, i will take it, i do NOT care.

things i manifested regarding other people towards me:

1. no more racism towards me, family and friends.

2. parents being emotionally available with me

3. my friends expressing affection the way i want them to

4. my mum making me the exact food i visualised many times

5. my professor saying the exact words to me as i visualised

6. my friends saying to me the exact words i visualised

7. this guy flirting with me out of nowhere because i visualised it

8. and many more stuff this shit is too easy so

maybe i feel this strongly because i am a fighter for the working class. my main goal in life is to help liberate all oppressed people. if there is any chance that it can be done by mind, i would take it. would you not? would you not help people by the means you have helped yourself?

how can you so strongly and with such conviction without ever practising the law come to a conclusion that is a harmful new age ideology when the maxim prevalent in so many esoteric practices (yes, non-white too) have preached that reality is made by the mind? will we ignore the science behind it too? will we ignore the cia declassified documents? will we ignore ancient accounts of reality shifting? will we ignore hermes trismegistus? will we ignore rumi? will we ignore plato? 

you can ignore this. i won’t, however. this is the liberation of the human soul. having said this, anyone is welcome to criticise the LOA community, look at us as vultures, think we are crazy. i value all opinions (even if they’re wrong HAHA sorry). 

how is loa different from dogmatic religion?

well for one, there is evidence for conscious manifestation (e.g. dr joe dispenza’s books). i personally do not like religion. i have religious trauma so if you are religious, id advise you to not read this section. abrahamic religion is based on fear to oppress minorities, trap human potential and it also makes you rely on luck and wishful thinking (this view is only if the holy books were to be taken in the literal sense and abused by ministers etc) whereas the human is able to decide its own fate. law of assumption liberates the human by putting the human from an us vs them view to an us AND them view, meaning everyone is one and the same. this is not a christian thing, this is a well documented thing featured in asian philosophy. consciousness is the thing that unites us all. it is within you and it is within me. religion (abrahamic) forces you to look at the people who are not like you, aka dont believe what you do, as these other creatures who have defied the will of God and ahhh will face wrath. LOA instead empowers the individual and promotes free will. i understand if you think this is dangerous, the woo-woo stuff, just dont practise it.

how is loa not a cult?

loa CAN be misused in a cult but on its own it is not a cult. no one in the loa community is forcing the individual to join this practice which lowkey is just manifestation. however, i get your concerns and i advise you to read this reply: x

i wish i took pics of my cat when she was sick so i could provide u guys evidence but of course i didnt take any pics.

anyone is welcome to leave. anyone is welcome to adjust loa to their lives the way they see fit.

the void state

i doubt that so many people are lying about manifesting in the void state. i do think it’s not a big deal but i definitely don’t think it’s fake. besides, whats the harm in trying?

thing is right, if you are not garnering results or whatever, u dont need to stay. i stayed regardless of whether i manifested my shit instantly or not (which in the beginning was hard for me) because i believed in the philosophy, it resonated with me and it didn’t make me alienate my fellow man. however, if you feel you have a chance of being manipulated here or idk what, don’t join this practice. seriously, it’s okay. i am not being sarcastic or anything, because you are welcome to stay or leave. you are welcome to compliment me or insult me. i will love you either way for you are my fellow man.

also this is so random and a general thing but only psychoanalytic/psychodynamic psychologists use the subconsciously thing.

[spacedlexi]

I’ve been thinking abt this recently, relating to Violet’s arc when you don’t save her, and wanted to see thoughts as you posted about her relationship with Minerva.

I don’t think it’s crazy for me to headcanon that in 403 when the bomb explodes, Minerva actually abandons Violet prior to it occurring (maybe being drawn by AJ’s gunshot depending on your choice??), because it makes absolutely no sense for them to go “stop the bomb” and then only one of them is burnt to shit. An explosion from such a close distance would’ve logically left both of them at least mildly burnt.

It makes more sense for Minerva to be totally fine in the kidnapped Louis route, but in the Violet route, I can’t help but feel like Violet saying “Where’s Minnie?” with such frustration when she shows up on the beach is due to something occurring.

But knowing Skybound and Telltale, they probably just forgot how explosions work.

LMAO 💀 at that last sentence BUT YES i do at least agree that something had to have happened between them during the explosion but its been hard to figure out exactly what that couldve been 🤔

but jokes aside lets try to give the writers some credit. if vi was so horribly scarred WHY wasnt minnie harmed as well if they were supposedly together? i think its a fair question to ask. especially since in 404 minnie and vi are completely separated with minnie already on the beach and vi struggling to get to shore by herself (burned and blinded 😭). and her "WHERE IS SHE??" does sound pretty furious (and atp she regrets what she did on the boat and tries to apologize to clem a minute later so why would her anger be directed at clem and louis?). we know minnie sacrificed sophie to save herself so why would it be so hard to believe she did the same to vi in the explosion? or did vi possibly try to protect her? or both?? minnie lets vi take the brunt of the hit for her and then leaves her?? i cant imagine minnie giving up on trying to stop the bomb either since shes delta now and definitely wouldnt want the boat to explode. and youd think minnie would be leading the way since kidnapped vi was in a cell the whole time. vi says they headed to the boiler room together to try to stop it but then it seems like everything just kinda went black 💣💥

but if minnie didnt abandon vi before the explosion, why wasnt minnie near vi in the water post-explosion? minnie had to have left vi alone and vulnerable at some point in all of this and we know how vi feels about being abandoned... minnie is more focused on trying to save the remaining delta and doesnt seem to have even tried looking for vi if they Were separated by the blast (and if they were together when the bomb went off (which vi says they were) minnie wouldve known vi was caught in the blast, but it doesnt seem like she cares)

violet being violet i do think shes still also worried about minnie on some level because her whole thing is being the "protector" of the group and her feelings towards minnie are (as she later admits) Very messed up atm (shes always just wanted to save her). where saved violet recognizes minnie has chosen the delta in 403, i think here on the beach is where kidnapped vi is forced to accept it, and she realizes who it is she can Truly rely on instead