#and avoid prying questions

[chemzee]

So uh. MelDan ammirite? This (kinda) blew up on Insta and other socmed I use so ig I'mma upload this here too lol

It started as a crackship (and it's still is, I kinda like to jokingly them imagine them pretending to like each other but actually wanting to skin each other alive, a little ooc for both of them, but it's mostly just for fun) but rn I'm exploring the potential ""relationship"" through a more angsty lense.

No text version below

[light-wrath-paradise]

When I start having a panic attack about visiting my family I know it's time to go to sleep immediately no ifs no buts

[jinwoosbabyboo]

In My Little Black Dress

The LADS Men have seen you in your long flowing dresses, but there was something about the way you looked in this particular dress that hugged your curves ; showing off those legs that they dream about being in-between. Artist @/osk_purinnumee on twitter

‼️MDNI MDNI MDNI‼️

Zayne ♡

Storyline: He couldn't help himself after seeing you in that dress.

"Can you zip me up?" Such an innocent question.

Zayne sat frozen starring at you; his expression giving away nothing. His intense stare caused you to start second guessing whether or not you should wear this dress. "I can change"

"No!" He cleared his throat after his sudden outburst. "No you look beautiful" He stood from his seat on the bed raking his gaze over your body continuously as he circled around behind you. "Just ... perfect" His breath ghosted over your neck as he planted a soft kiss while his hands slowly zipped your dress up.

He spun you around, taking your hand and stepping back to admire you. "I love this dress on you" His voice as soft as silk. Your stomach immediately erupted with butterflies. "Thank you" you whispered back looking away to avoid his piercing gaze.

Before you knew it Zayne was leaning down placing the softest kiss on your lips. His kiss quickly grew hungry as he moved lower, grazing his teeth along your jaw and planting wet kisses down your neck.

"Zayne..." your voice nothing more than a breathy moan. "Hmm?"

"We ... we have to go the award ceremony starts in thirty minutes" He continued his assault on your neck littering kisses as his hands roamed your body. "I need you now" He couldn't help himself seeing the way that dress perfectly hugged your curves while propping his girls up just right.

He backed you against the wall before dropping to his knees and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You shot a hand out pushing his head back. "Zayne we can't we have to go"

His breath was ragged as he rubbed his nose against your already wet panties before looking up at you through his lashes. "Please" He begged; his breath ghosting over your pussy sending shivers up your spine.

You couldn't help but give in giving a subtle nod and soon after he pulled your panties to the side and took his time with a long languid lick before devouring you like a man starved.

Rafayel ♡

Storyline: No self-control when it comes to you. He has to have you now in the middle of his Art Exhibit.

Rafayel swore you were teasing him with the dress you decided to wear tonight for his latest Art Exhibit. He couldn't take his eyes off you; watching your hips sway and the way you pulled the hem down when it rose almost giving him a nice view of your ass.

He refused to let you leave his side. He was either holding your hand or wrapping his arms around you from behind. "You look so beautiful baby" He whispered in your ear as he slid his hands up and down the front of your dress. "We should get out of here, go somewhere less noisy"

"This is for you Rafayel we can't just leave" He pouted at your answer as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. "I don't like that answer" A quiet gasp left you as you felt him grind his hardening length against your ass.

"Rafayel!" You whisper-shouted whipping around to glare at him. As soon as your eyes met his you were shocked at how red his cheeks and ears were. You rolled your eyes and exhaled hard; looking around to make sure there were no prying eyes you turned back to Rafayel as a smile stretched across your face. "There's a private room-"

"I know ... I'll be quick .... I don't want to be, but I will be" He cut you off and swiftly tugged you out of the packed venue making his way to the back stairs. Rafayel yanked the private door open pulling you in slamming it behind the two of you and claiming your lips in a heated kiss.

His kiss was breathtaking; you gasped as you felt his hands bunch up your dress and quickly slip into your panties. Rafayel was incredibly skilled with his fingers. He dipped two fingers into you making you tremble as he massaged that spot. "Right there" you moaned between kisses; he moved to you neck as you threw your head back against the door in bliss. It didn't take him long to coax an orgasm out of you.

He smiled against your neck as he pulled his fingers out making you whine. He fumbled with his belt and zipper quickly pulling out his dick that stood hard & red. You were always shocked at how big Raf was it almost seemed like it wouldn't fit.

Not giving you time to catch your breath he slides his hand down your thigh lifting it up and hooking your leg over his hip as he sunk into you with an audible whimper. He lifted your other leg as well; you instinctively locked your legs around his waist as he pounded into you at a ferocious pace.

"Raf- ah!" He slaps his hand over your mouth. "Shhh you have to keep quiet beloved"

Xavier ♡

Storyline: Made it all the way to the Annual Hunters Ball (Yes I made it up get off me) never even made it out of the car.

Xavier had top tier self-control unless it came to you. The minute he saw you in that tailored gown with a slit to show a little leg he was a goner.

"One more just one more" Xavier whimpered against your soaked cunt. He was currently buried between your legs in the backseat of his car. Thank goodness his windows were tinted otherwise everyone would see you splayed out for him with tears running down your face.

"Xav I can't" You whimpered trying to push his head which only caused him to hold your thighs tighter and flick his tongue faster on your overstimulated clit. "You can do it cum on my face"

Such a dirty mouth for someone with such an innocent looking face. Those deep blue eyes gazing up at you watching your every reaction to his tongue had him so hard he could cut diamonds. You arched into his mouth feeling another orgasm crest letting out the sluttiest moan that didn't even sound like something that would come from you.

Xavier continued to lick and suck catching every drop as you came down from your high. Flattening his tongue so you could grind out the last bit of your orgasm before slumping against the door.

Xavier sat up freeing his painful hard-on from his freshly pressed slacks that were now ruined with his pre-cum. "You can't go in with stained pants"

"That Hunters Ball is the last thing on my mind right now" He said as he lined himself up running his tip through your slick before sinking into you slowly. He shivered as he sheathed himself in you inch by inch "Fuck you have heaven between your thighs babe"

Sylus ♡

Storyline: He has to keep one hand on you or .... maybe two fingers in you.

Sylus was doing great. He held his composure from the house all the way to the auction. Which wasn't easy watching your hips sway, ass bounce, and tits jiggle as you ran around putting on your last touches of makeup, jewelry, and redoing your hair twice because you didn't like how your edges looked with the first style.

The dress you had on left just barely enough for the imagination while simultaneously being classy. Sylus couldn't help but at least keep one hand on you.

Long tablecloths were draped over every table giving Sylus the perfect idea. You two sat at a table towards the back of the venue and as soon as the lights dimmed to begin the auction you felt Sylus hand slide up your left thigh. "I'm right handed Sylus my knife is on the other side" You whispered to him.

"I wasn't looking for your weapon Princess" He whispered as his hand inched towards the apex of your thighs. You took a sharp inhale as his fingers brushed against the lining of your panties. "You're already wet sweetie ... in a place like this? How scandalous" Your breathing became ragged as he slid your panties to the side and dipped two fingers into you. He stroked your G spot causing you to cover your mouth with your fist to keep from making noise.

"Sy-Sylus" You moaned as you leaned forward pretending to be interested in what the auctioneer was saying. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop"

He flattened his palm giving your clit more stimulation. "Then go ahead ... cum on my hand" He leaned over making it look as though he was just whispering in your ear when in reality he gave your ear lobe a soft nip before sucking it between his lips. That sent you right over the edge. Soft whimpers fell from your lips as you dripped all over his hand.

Sylus pulled his fingers out giving you a cheeky smirk before stirring his glass of whiskey with his fingers that you just came all over. "Now that's a one of a kind drink"

[screampied]

“tch, what are you doing.”

“hugging you.”

“i’m not stupid. why are you hugging me,”

sukuna grouses, his entire vast frame growing stiff. it was always like this with you. every few seconds, you’d be talking to him about literally anything and out of nowhere, your human arms just wrap around his waist. the demon stands still with the most repulsed poker-face, yet he doesn’t attempt to pry you off. for whatever reason, your warmth was surprisingly .. comfortable. you’ve got the cutest smile contorting against your features. burying your face into the center of his chest, the demon sighs, flicking your forehead. “oi brat, i asked you a question.”

playfully wincing at his gesture — you have a tiny pout. “you looked like you could use one,” and your arms briefly tighten around his slim torso. “also, usually when someone’s hugging you, you’re required to hug the other person b-”

“don’t tell me what to do,” and you gasp, feeling strong arms pull you in close. with an oof, you land right into his soft padded chest. your cheek tenderly rubs against the various ancient markings that paint and decorate his skin. the ‘hug’ only lasts for about three seconds before he pulls away, pretending to feel ill. a mere drama king. “disgusting. got me participating in such a revolting, humanly act. think ‘m gonna be sick.”

“oh, don’t be dramatic,” you tease, leaning into his touch. you’re met with a crimson-red glare but you could spot the vague pout forming against his lips if you squinted. out of all the pesky humans he’s encountered, no one was ever tolerable or worthy for his attention.

no one except . . . you.

a simple gesture as hugging makes him feel mushy ‘n soft inside and he hates it. loathes it, that dumb carefree grin that cheeses against your lips, the cute glimmer sparkling in your eyes. so irritating, so . . adorable.

as you rest your chin against his chest, you let off a tiny huff. “do demons not hug each other?”

“not in this way,” he murmurs, feeling an awkward lump brew in his throat. sukuna’s eyes suddenly avoid yours and you grow curious. not only that, but his body language changes. your softness was making him nervous.

he swears a plethora of inaudible curses under his breath, remaining rigidly stiff and refuses to move his beefy arms another itch. your arms wrap around him again and a huffing sigh makes his tense shoulder lower. with a grumpy grunt, his eye twitches and a single fang bares below his top lip, a sign of cute stubborn annoyance. “ack, you’re squishing me, human. release me at once.”

your chin swiftly rubs against the soft fabric that made up his personalized kimono before deadpanning. “not until you hug me back.”

“i am hugging you back.”

“no you’re not,” you giggle, burying your face inside between the opening slit of his clothing piece. his body heat tepidly radiates against you and you’re engulfed with his loud natural scent. the demon’s almost always naturally warm, your personal heating pad. he shoots you a vexing glare, nostrils flaring up in exasperation before his arms awkwardly pull you closer. “hey, not s- so tight, ‘kuna.”

“now you wanna complain? you’re gonna take this hug,” and you giggle, feeling him gingerly shove you into his broad chest, squeezing you tight.

sukuna sassily rolls his eyes at the audacity,

he’s never been one to participate in such ludicrous, but if it was with you, maybe it wasn’t that bad. sukuna stares down at you, a weird soft feeling pooling its way into his heart — after a while, he unwraps his arms from your body, ruffling your hair. “stupid.”

with a cheeky grin, you wrap your arms right back around his torso, nuzzling against his chest like you were a kitten. with a gruff groan, his arms suddenly mirror you, slinging around your waist, pulling you close tightly. how annoying, he’s starting to enjoy this little thing called ‘hugging.’

sukuna slowly adapts to the warmth of your body against him, a faint smile creeping on his face at your next adoring words. “love you ‘kuna.”

“you’re gonna experience a deadly cough in five days, brat.”

“huh?”

“hmph. i said . . i love you too.”

[chalkscene]

tokyo revengers ⇢ YOU’RE TOO DRUNK TO RECOGNIZE YOUR BOYFRIEND

ft. manjiro “mikey” sano, ken “draken” ryuguji, keisuke baji, takashi mitsuya, rindou haitani, ran haitani & shuji hanma

warnings: alcohol and a very hammered reader. the boys are more responsible than you <3

this is one of the rare occurrences wherein MIKEY actually shares his food. when you’ve finally given up on fighting him for the last bottle of alcohol, you start whining about your sudden hunger so he slides his plate of nachos over to you. he watches you eye it for a second before you drag your gaze up to him. “i have a boyfriend you know?” you tell him, your attempt to be menacing coming out pathetically as the attitude dripping from your tone is dampened by your slurred speech. mikey doesn’t need the club to be well lit. the strobe lights already illuminate your face enough for him to get a clear view of your glassy eyes and flushed cheeks. “i know,” he confirms with a tinge of exasperation, “because it’s me. mikey. your boyfriend.” he emphasizes his last words, his last effort to knock some sense into you but you only let out a cackle which catches him off guard. “nice try but mikey never shares his food.”

“that’s enough.” DRAKEN snatches the last of your many drinks for the night before you can gulp it down. being the perceptive boyfriend he is, he can already hear the complaint that’s about to slip from your tongue so he’s quick to pull you by the wrist, up from your seat and out the door. “where are you taking me?” you ask as clearly as your drunken state can let you—not so much but enough for your boyfriend to understand. “home.” at his curt reply, you yank your hand from his grip with a strength that startles even toman’s former vice president. “what the hell are you doing?” draken hisses lest you make a scene in public. “i’m calling my boyfriend,” you warn him, “bet he can kick your ass.” “yeah? i’d like to see him try.” he dismisses your empty threat, reaching for you once more to guide you to the exit but upon hearing a few whispers from prying strangers who are clearly getting the wrong idea, he stops in his tracks and turns to no one in particular, no longer caring about whatever commotion he may cause as his voice booms over the loud music: “i’m the boyfriend!”

“let me go!” you relentlessly thrash around, yelling out threats of calling your boyfriend, while BAJI—the boyfriend in question—pulls you into an empty alleyway to avoid any possible public humiliation for the both of you. “fuck,” he huffs out a breath, “when did you get this strong?” some time in the night, he’s tuned you out telling him off, on a sole mission to stop you from drinking more than you already have. and he’s relieved he managed to get you out of the bar—that is until he hears a weird noise coming from you. “wh-” baji doesn’t get the chance to utter a single word as you begin to throw up. in a panic, he hastily puts your hair up with his spare tie before rubbing soothing circles on your back. your hair looks real messy, he notes, but that’s the least of his worries. “you feeling better?” he checks on you after a while, only to be met by more retching, making him grumble to himself, “and i get an earful when i drink too much.”

MITSUYA is helping you get on your feet—sweet boyfriend he is—but as soon as you find your footing, you give him a hefty shove. “i have a boyfriend, jackass!” you seethe, too drunk to recognize him, and all he can do is sigh as he regains his balance. “yes. me.” something clicks in your brain at his response and you squint your eyes to get a better look at him. “takashi?” “hi, love.” and just like that, you perk up, your mouth stretching into a wide grin. “taka,” you squeal, excitement coursing through your veins when you recognize your boyfriend, “hiiiii~” he laughs at the shift in your tone and takes the opportunity to slide an arm around your waist once more. “let’s get you home okay?” “mhm.” you wrap your arms around him and he lifts you with ease. mitsuya assumes you’re fast asleep until a few minutes later, you mumble something against his skin, “someone tried to flirt with me but i said no.” a chuckle bubbles past his lips as he adjusts his hold on you. “really?” “mhm,” you nod into his neck as you snuggle closer, “i only love you.” “i love you more.” “love you most,” you reply before soft snores fall from your lips and your breathing evens out.

you’re rambling about RINDOU to rindou himself, going on and on about the reasons that made you fall in love with him. and while you’re occasionally interrupted by your hiccups, he patiently listens to your every word then he hears a “but.” the ways you describe him next are less flattering, less romantic—how he tries so hard to act indifferent to your cooing as if the tips of his ears don’t instantly turn red. or how he has a permanent scowl etched on his face. and other things you already tell him even when you’re sober. “he’s really lucky he doesn’t have any wrinkles yet,” you add with a giggle. “you’re really annoying when you’re drunk, you know that?” rindou deadpans. despite the lack of lighting in the club, he doesn’t miss the shock washing over you, your eyes getting mistier by the second. “what?” your voice comes out shaky and your bottom lip starts to wobble, making rindou release another groan. “for fuck’s sake.”

in spite of your insistence to stay at the club, RAN easily managed to drag you to his car. this isn’t his first rodeo. as an older brother, he has had to deal with rindou when he was blackout drunk. “where are we going?” you mumble as you begin to stir in the passenger seat. “home.” “i wanna see ran.” your boyfriend throws you a quick glance—your eyes remain closed and the rest of your words are incomprehensible—before he focuses back on the road. amused by your drunken state, he plays along. “alright, we’re going to ran.” the stretch of silence that follows is cut short when you speak again, “i’m thirsty.” so ran makes a quick stop at a convenience store, coming back shortly with a bottle in hand. he unscrews the cap before he gives you the drink, “careful.” you take a big gulp, instantly grimacing at the taste and it elicits a snort from your boyfriend. “what is this?” “water.”

“want more,” you slur. across from you, HANMA watches as you clumsily reach for the empty shot glasses on the table, flipping them upside down as if more alcohol will magically appear. he’s not going to lie—he finds it funny. entertaining, even. and if the circumstances were any different, he would’ve even encouraged this behavior. but he’s your boyfriend now and if there’s one thing he truly cares about, it’s you. drunk out of your wits, you don’t notice when hanma slides out of the booth until he’s soon presenting two more glasses to you. even though the contents are the same, he asks you to choose, “which one?” “hmm… that.” before you can get your hands on your drink, hanma intercepts and downs it in one go. you’re about to protest when he throws you over his shoulder and chugs the other drink out of your sight before heading for the exit. “let’s go.”

[alisonwritesimagines]

Count On Mom ~Batfamily Imagine~

Summary: The kids try to get Bruce to get away from the computer. Luckily, there is always one person who can take his mind out of anything including Batman duties. You.

Author’s Note: Haven't posted much in a while and I kept seeing a lot of Batfamily stuff at the last convention I went to so here we go!

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: boob flashing, hint to smut

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

Three of the batkids stared at their adoptive father as he had been stuck in front of the screen in the Batcave. None of the moved as they watched Bruce in some kind of trance.

“How long since he moved?” Dick asked Cassandra and Jason.

“A day,” Cassandra monotonous answered.

“I think he blinked a minute ago, does that count?” Jason asked.

“It’s official. Alfred called it. He said he’ll bake cookies if we can get Bruce to stop working,” Duke said as he walked into the batcave.

"Step aside," Jason said as he cracked his knuckles. "This will be over in no time."

As the kids began to try to get Bruce to move away, no effort was made to moving Bruce.

"I got an idea," Dick said as he took out his phone.

You felt your phone ring, making you put the groceries down onto the kitchen island so you could answer your phone. You had just gone to the store to grab some ingredients to make dinner for tomorrow's dinner.

“Hello?”

“Hey mom! Are you and Damien almost done with grocery shopping yet?”

“We just got home. Why?”

“We’re trying to pry Bruce off of the computer in the Batcave and Alfred said he’d make us cookies if we get him away from the screen.”

“I’m on my way,” you say with a chuckle at the end.

"Already began to bake the cookies. I know you'll be able to get him away," Alfred told you.

"Of course I can. That's my superpower in this family," you joked.

When you got to the Batcave, you saw your husband tiredly staring at the screen in front of him. The dark bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep made you upset but you knew there was one thing you could do that would always get his attention.

"Aw my poor husband," you say.

"You got this mom?" Jason asked you.

“Step aside kids and close your eyes,” you tell them as you walked over to your husband.

“What are you going to do mom?” Dick as as he covered his eyes. The rest of the kids quickly covered their eyes to avoid to see what you were going to do.

You climbed onto Bruce’s lap before lifting both your shirt and bra in front of him. Bruce quickly snapped out of his daze before looking up at you with a smile.

“Tempting me my love?”

“Maybe,” you smile as you pulled your shirt and bra down.

“Let me have my cookies and you can have me,” you whispered into his ears as you stood up.

“Okay kids. Enjoy Alfred’s cookies,” you say as you headed out.

The moment the kids uncovered their eyes, they watched in shock as Bruce already began to make his way towards you.

“Leave it to mom for getting Bruce to do anything other than his Batman duties,” Jason said.

"I wonder how she does it," Duke says out loud.

"Because dad's got it bad for mom," Dick tells him.

By the time Bruce got to you, you were eating your chocolate chip cookies that Alfred had made with Damien. You winked at your husband as you kissed Damien’s head.

“Alfred, why don’t you and the kids go out for a bit? It’s lovely outside,” you tell him.

“Of course,” Alfred said before walking over to get the rest of the kids. You began to head upstairs to your room, knowing that you had stirred something in Bruce.

“You coming Bruce?” You called out. You smirked as you heard Bruce’s fastened footsteps.

You let out a laugh as you felt him pick you up. You held onto him as he rushed over to the bedroom.

“I owe you some alone time don’t I?” Bruce asked you with a smile.

“Yes you do. Now, while everyone is out of the house, why don’t you make it up to me?” You asked him.

“I plan to," Bruce said before kissing you passionately.

[olive-main]

oooo if you’re interested would love to see your take: reader is Azriel’s mate, nobody knows. The inner circle keeps trying to set him up with females (including Elaine & Gwyn). They like reader but don’t view her as an option for being his partner. Lots of angst, she’s hurting, she overhears them saying she’s not an option for him. Up to you what happens for her and Azriel. Loved your last story, and that you wanted more angst ideas!! And if this isn’t what you’re looking for, all good!

Between Us Alone

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel’s mate overhears a conversation that shakes her confidence in their hidden bond, but he reminds her that love, even in shadows, is unbreakable.

Wc: 1.2k

A/N: Annndddd welcome back to our regularly scheduled programming. This time I come with the gift of some fluff (with angst ofc bcs duh—who do y’all think I am?) Enjoy the happy endings while they last…..evil laugh

Masterlist

——

The corridors of the House of Wind were quiet, save for the faint hum of conversation that drifted from Rhysand’s office. You’d gone looking for Azriel, hoping he might steal away from his “boys’ night” early and join you at your shared apartment.

A secret, the two of you. Hidden in plain sight. Quite fitting for Rhysand’s spymasters.

It was exhilarating at first—the quiet smiles across rooms, the fleeting brushes of hands, and the stolen glances when no one else was looking. But there were cracks now, small fissures of insecurity that made you wonder if keeping the bond private had been the right choice.

Your footsteps slowed as you neared Rhys’s office, voices clear now, though you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You were about to knock when you caught the sound of Cassian’s boisterous laughter.

“Oh, come on, Az,” Cassian said, his tone teasing. “You’ve been spending all that time with Gwyn. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Gwyn’s sweet,” Rhysand added. “And she clearly enjoys your company. You’d make a good pair.”

Your heart clenched painfully, the words hitting you like a physical blow.

Azriel’s reply was quieter, almost unreadable. “Gwyn is a friend. I’m not looking for… that.”

Cassian scoffed. “You say that now, but it’s been centuries, Az. When was the last time you even tried to let someone in? Gwyn’s perfect for you—kind, strong, clever. She gets you.”

“She’s not the only option,” Rhys said smoothly. “There are others. Nesta’s mentioned a few priestesses who would be good matches.”

Cassian nodded in agreement. “There’s also Y/N.”

You pressed your hand to the doorframe, your breaths shallow as you heard Cassian say your name.

“No, I don’t see them together. They rarely speak to each other outside of missions and a few shared words at dinners.” Rhysand says with a shake of his head as if the thought of you and Azriel together was the most unlikely thing he could think of.

You shouldn’t have stayed, shouldn’t have listened, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. They didn’t mean to hurt you—you knew that. You’d always been on the periphery of their circle, a friend but never a true equal in their eyes. Azriel’s shadows had been your sanctuary, his quiet love a solace you cherished.

But to hear them speak so casually, as if you weren’t even a possibility…

Azriel’s voice cut through, firm and unyielding. “I don’t need you to play matchmaker. I can handle my own life.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Cassian said, clearly amused.

“Drop it,” Azriel snapped, his tone brooking no argument.

The room fell silent after that, but the damage was done. You turned and fled, the ache in your chest twisting tighter with every step.

—

The space you shared with Azriel was small but cozy, tucked away in a quiet corner of Velaris where no one thought to look. It was your haven, the only place you could truly be yourselves without prying eyes or whispered questions.

But tonight, it felt suffocating.

You sank onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as the doubts clawed at your mind.

This charade was necessary. You both knew that. If they ever found out you and Azriel had been together for months—years, now—it would complicate everything. Not just for him, but for you.

As Azriel’s partner, you worked in the shadows as he did, your work as vital and delicate as his own. Secrecy was second nature to you both, and you’d agreed early on that revealing your bond—to anyone—was too risky.

You’d thought you could handle it. But moments like this, when they talked about Azriel’s love life like you didn’t exist, like you weren’t his, made you question how much more you could endure.

You told yourself it wasn’t Azriel’s fault. He hadn’t encouraged them. He’d even told them to stop. But the weight of their words lingered, stirring fears you’d tried so hard to bury.

What if they were right? What if Azriel deserved someone like Gwyn, someone who could stand beside him without the need for secrecy?

You didn’t hear the front door open, too lost in your thoughts to notice the familiar sound of Azriel’s footsteps until he was standing in front of you.

“Something’s wrong,” he said immediately, his hazel eyes scanning your face. His shadows swirled around him, restless and sharp. “What happened?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing. Just tired.”

His brow furrowed, and he crouched in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “Don’t lie to me.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you. You looked away, your throat tightening as you tried to hold back tears.

“Y/N,” he said softly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Tell me.”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. But you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“I went to Rhys’s office,” you admitted quietly. “I was going to find you, but… I heard you all talking.”

Azriel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “What did you hear?” He already knew. There was only one part of the conversation that could’ve had you so distraught.

You swallowed hard. “They… they were trying to set you up with someone. Gwyn, mostly. Rhys mentioned others.” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “They said I wasn’t even an option.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his shadows curling tighter around him.

“They didn’t mean it to hurt me, I know that” you added quickly, seeing how Azriel was ready to go back and pummel his brothers. “They don’t know about us. But… it still hurt.”

He exhaled sharply, standing and pacing the room. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “They had no right—”

“They care about you,” you interrupted. “They want you to be happy. And maybe they’re right. Maybe you’d be better off with someone like Gwyn. Someone who—”

“Stop.”

The word was a command, sharp and unyielding. Azriel crossed the room in an instant, kneeling before you again. He took your hands in his, his grip firm but gentle.

“Don’t you dare doubt this,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you dare doubt us.”

Tears spilled over, and he reached up to brush them away, his touch achingly tender.

“You are my mate,” he said, his voice breaking. “You. Not Gwyn, not anyone else. You are the only one I want, the only one I will ever want.”

“But they—”

“They’re idiots,” he said flatly. “I’ll deal with them. But don’t let their ignorance make you doubt what we have.”

You searched his face, finding only unwavering certainty in his eyes.

“I love you,” he said, his voice softening. “More than I thought I was capable of. And I don’t care if they don’t see it. I see it. I feel it.”

A broken laugh escaped you, relief washing over you like a tide. “I love you too.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the world.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I never wanted you to feel like this. I thought keeping the bond private would protect us, but if it’s hurting you—”

“It’s not,” you said quickly. “Not really. I just… I needed to hear this. To hear you.”

He pulled back just enough to press his forehead to yours. “You’ll never have to doubt me again.”

——

Aren’t they just so sweet *sigh*. Thank you for reading <3

Requests are still open ;)

[poguehearted77]

Co-Star Confessions

Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey

Co-Star Confessions-> The cast takes you along on a trip to take a lie detector test for an interview. The jokes are rolling and the tea starts to spill.

Summary: A lie detector, a dark room, and unspoken tension pull you into a whirlwind of revelations, where secrets are spilled, emotions run high, and your growing romance with Drew becomes impossible to hide.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Okay be honest, who else went on a deep dive of doom last night and watched all of Blackbox's previous interviews?" Madelyn turns from her place in the passenger seat, facing you, Madison and Chase so you can hear her question clearly.

All hands go up. The anticipation is high and circling in the car. Today the cast has split up into two cars as you're being shipped off to another studio to record an interview with Blackbox.

"Some of those questions were brutal, and you're hooked up to a lie detector so there's no chance you can avoid the truth." Chase lets out a weighted breath, his mind running off with the possible questions they could ask. There's a small sprout of fear blossoming around the possibility they'll pry open closed doors about his and Madelyn's break up. 

The concept is simple: Prior to the interview, Blackbox has done their own research and collected some surface-level, intermediate, and mildly invasive questions that the fans of the show are circulating online. One by one, the cast will sit in the empty black room with no one but the polygrapher and a lie detector, the questions get asked and if you're telling the truth you get a point, if you're lying you lose a point.

The castmate with the most points at the end gets to ask any co-star any question of their choice.

"I can't believe I let Madison drag me into this." You scoff and all she does is smile bright and innocent. It took some convincing of the producers but she's very persuasive when she needs to be.

"We're family now. If we go down, so do you." Chase holds your hand and gives it a condescending squeeze. "I take that as a threat." You snatch your hand away and everyone laughs.

As you arrived, it seems the car with Carlacia, Drew and JD had beat you guys there. Their driver was already pulling off the lot, telling you the others were inside. You got out of the car behind Chase and adjusted your clothes.

Today, your stylists had picked out a white long-sleeve shirt layered under a sleek black vest, paired with a gray mini skirt, black sheer tights, a small shoulder bag, delicate gold acccesories, and a sleek pulled-back pony-tail for a perfectly polished look.

You could already hear the chatter from the studio from out in the hall as you entered the room behind Madison, more chatter erupting as the full cast is reunited. You did your rounds to greet the others you hadn't been riding with. "You look great," Drew compliments as he briefly rests his head atop yours during your hug. You fit in his arms as perfectly as a puzzle.

His pathetic instincts allowed him to take a deeper breath to get a stronger pull of your gentle perfume that intoxicated his mind. "I don't remember getting a compliment from you this morning!" Carlacia accuses him playfully and he laughs along before flattering her endlessly and you thought it was cute.

There’s no denying it. From the very beginning, you and Drew have danced around the unspoken tension, the sparks that have lingered just beneath the surface. But lately, those sparks have started to feel dangerous, like a fuse waiting to ignite. The two of you can’t be left alone for long—what starts as two chairs between you inevitably narrows to one, and then, before you realize it, none at all.

One second you're both rehearsing lines in the studio-b trailer and the next you're passed out on the couch side-by-side. Even though that only happened once, it was more than enough. You've blown through nearly two-thirds of filming the final season and it was easy to consider Drew one of your closest friends, both on and off-set.

There were late-night phone calls, early morning face-times, minimal texting since he hardly replied to his messages but lots of heated glances that shouldn't make you feel as hot as they did. Like right now.

Madelyn is currently removing a piece of lint that had fallen onto your hair from god knows where, meanwhile, you pretended you couldn't feel Drew's deep gaze from behind Madelyn's head, but you shook it off. You had to.

It wasn't long before you're all being ushered to take your seats in the black room, getting ready to record your introduction which will be the only time the whole cast is in the black room together for the interview.

"We're the cast of Outer Banks and welcome to Blackbox." You all say, introducing yourselves personally then retreating to the holding room where there are five chairs, a one-way glass looking into the black room and a microphone.

The assistants spun a wheel which decided that JD is the first one up on the chopping block. "Keep the questions pg-13, please. I've got family that's gonna see this." He pleads, letting himself be strapped into the chair and hooked up with the various components of the detector. Meanwhile, you took the seat in the holding room between Carlacia and Drew.

"So he really can't see us?" Madelyn questioned, waving to JD through the window, but he was unresponsive. "All he sees is a mirror, but when you use the microphone, he can hear your voice in the speakers in the room." One of the cameramen explains and you all nod along.

"Okay, Madelyn, you're first to read the questions. Pick up one cue card from the surface-level, intermediate and invasive stack and project your voice into the mic." She's directed but you all listen for when it's your turn.

Madelyn: "JD, What's your favourite memory from filming season 5 Outer Banks so far?"

He jolts a little in his seat, not expecting to hear Madelyn's voice so clearly in a room where he can't see her, but he answers nonetheless.

JD: When Chase and I were rehearsing that scene where we have to hang-glide off a cliff but Chase's hands slipped and he misses the bar, and he just goes falling to the foam platform like twenty feet below us, but it wasn't even that. It was the scream he let out. I still think about it.

"He's telling the truth." The woman informs.

Chase has his head in his hands while you and Carlacia hold onto eachother, laughing until you're gasping for air.

Madelyn picks up the top cue card from the intermediate pile.

Madelyn: Which castmate are you closest to?

"Oooh." There's a collective sound that sweeps across the studio, it made everyone uneasy, not because of the question. It's a difficult question and everyone knows there are no hard feelings involved but if this is an intermediate question then you should all be nervous.

JD sighs, "You know what-- Unstrap me." He pretends to grab at the wires and it elicits a round of laughs while he thinks about it.

JD: This is hard. I feel like I have such a different relationship with everyone, but..... uhhh... If I had to narrow it down, I guess probably Madelyn.

There's a long silence, everyone waiting for the polygrapher to confirm or deny. "He's telling the truth."

Madelyn: "It must be fate that I'm the one asking your questions. Luv ya. Now, for your final, invasive question. You recently implied in an interview that you're seeing someone, is that true?"

Your hands clasp over your mouth. "Brutal," Carlacia whispers under her breath while you and Drew lean over the edge of your seats as if you didn't already know the answer to this question.

"No." He denies it, another stomach-churning silence. You can see the nerves rolling down JD's face as he waits for the results. "That was a lie." The crew is making some indistinct noise while the cast is stunned to silence. None of you were going to make it out of this interview alive.

JD's head falls with a guilty grin, dreading the news this would spread in the press. He almost immediately unlatches himself from the machine and enters the waiting room with the rest of you, sending in Chase.

"That shit is intense. It's just so dark, and ominous, and you've got a spotlight on you. Makes you feel like you're on trial for a crime you didn't commit." Drew stands to give him a pat on the back, "You did good, man. Hopefully Maya isn't too blindsided by that last question."

Maya is JD's secret girlfriend, official as of last month, you've met her a handful of times but you clicked almost instantly and often texted on Instagram and shared reels.

The game went on, and the questions didn't get any easier. You watched as you all trickled in and out of the rooms, getting paired off in an order something like this:

Madelyn asking JD

Drew asking Chase

Carlacia asking Madelyn

Chase asking Y/N

Y/N asking Madison

Madison asking Carlacia

JD asking Drew

There's an acrylic nail poking your shoulder and you shudder. "You're up," Carlacia informs you and you nearly vomit. The questions have been ruthless thus far, you honestly wonder how and why the producers approved this.

"Hey Madison, this is for you." You hold up your middle fingers, regretting ever letting her get you involved in this bloodbath. She blows you a kiss and wishes you luck.

Chase: "Y/n-"

You're not sure what it is about it, but you and Chase have had enough bloopers on set, that this felt no different, even though you couldn't see him, you broke out in laughter. Before the mic cut out you heard Chase's abrupt laughter cut through.

This is how you two always were. Unable to keep it together. The directors hated when you had a scene together (even though they'd laugh too). "Okay okay, I'm sorry. I'm ready." You reassure, "That was a lie", The polygrapher debunks your confession and it sends everyone rolling for another five minutes due to its spontaneity.

"Okay. For real this time." You clear your throat, waiting for Chase to start with the questions.

Chase: "If you weren’t acting, what would your job be?"

"Ooh, I love photography, my phone is always gonna be in your face, and I've got like a dozen cameras. So, probably a photographer." You answer. The question is light, but it doesn't erase the uneasy feeling bubbling in your stomach. "True."

Chase prepares to move on to the intermediate stack of cards, shuffling them, just for fun.

"Here we go," Madison leans over to JD, they both knew there were bound to be some wild cards for you and Drew. Ever since your casting as Piper was made public not too long ago, the fans immediately flocked to find all your socials.

The rumours between you and Drew were already starting to spin. All stemming from one photo added to one of Carlacia's many photo dumps a few weeks ago. The image is of you playfully feeding Drew a strawberry from when you'd all done some sightseeing and visited the local Portuguese farms.

Chase: "Fans noticed you recently reposted a TikTok that said, 'When he’s tall enough to climb like a tree>>'—was that just for laughs, or did you have someone in mind?"

Your hands raise to your face and you scream, Madison screams, JD laughs, Madelyn kicks her feet while Carlacia gasps--Simply put, the cast is overcome.

Drew straightens a little, now more intrigued than ever (as if he wasn't before). His eyes sparkle with hope? Interest? Certainty. A subtle wave of confidence runs down his spine as he confirms to himself that you're talking about him. You both know it, and you've never been so glad that you couldn't see his face.

"My TikTok account is private how did they even-?!"

Chase: "Answer the question Ms. Y/n."

You could hear his smirk through the mic. Oh, he was enjoying this too much. You made a mental reminder to send Kelsea all the worst images that you've taken of him. "It was just for fun," you shrug.

"That was a lie", You knew it was coming, honestly, but at least you tried.

Chase: "You've recently been cast as the lead in a new rom-com called The Love Equation set to release in 2026, congratulations."

Chase prefaces the question with the recent news that was unveiled to the public merely a few days ago. It was a very recent endeavour of yours.

Not long after you started filming for Outer Banks, you'd received a call back from this project and filming was set to start a little after the OBX premiere which is a little less than three months away.

"Thank you, thank you. I'm very excited and grateful for the opportunity." You say, pretending you weren't dreading the question that's soon to follow. Chase's flattery made you nervous, regardless if he was just reading what was on the card.

Chase: If you could pick any castmate to star alongside you in a rom-com, who would you pick?"

Drew's jaw locks at the question. His grip on the arm of the chair tightens subconsciously as he watches your every move. From the way you looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think to your left foot pacing an unsteady rhythm.

All while Madison was watching Drew, a small smile creeping up on her lips. She needed no further confirmation from the two of you, your body language was loud enough. To her, at least.

"Drew." You say nothing more, nothing less. You don't want to fan the flames that fans have already sparked to life from a simple picture. "She's telling the truth." Yeah, obviously, but you don't say that out loud.

The time seems to fly now that your turn had passed and finally, it's Drew's turn. Deep down you've been waiting for this all day, but if you're being honest, you're a little scared for him.

Drew has one of the biggest and most blunt fanbases of the cast. You've seen how they can get sometimes, you've read the TikTok comments and seen the X threads. Hopefully, nothing gets taken out of context or blown out of proportion.

JD: "What’s your favorite way to unwind after a long day of filming?"

His lips pucker a little in thought, and it dawned on him. "I recently got gifted like, an ungodly amount of bubble bath, but I've actually been using them lately. So, I'll say a nice, hot bath, yeah."

The polygrapher confirms that his statement is in fact true and the round progresses.

JD: "If you had to be stuck on an island with one of your castmates for 24 hours, who would you pick—and what would you two do to pass the time?"

Drew fights the grin on his face, "I'd say Chase, we would go hang-gliding-" He's hardly able to get the sentence out before he's interrupted by his own cackles.

Chase adds his own thoughts into the mic, "You know what, Drew, fuck you, okay?" Chase states before returning to his seat while Drew chokes over his laughs to deliver an insincere apology. "That was true." The room erupts with more laughter at that.

JD: "Your final, invasive question, have you ever secretly dated or hooked up with someone from a movie/show you've worked on, including this one?"

The entire studio goes pin-drop silent. Madison's hand reaches out to hold yours, for comfort, or maybe support? Your eyes are glued to the window that shows a nervous Drew, the most nervous you'd ever seen him. He's starting to sweat.

The two of you have never hooked up, but now you're curious. You would get to find out if he's gotten involved with other girls he's worked with before. Was everything he did just an act? Was it a thing he did with everyone?

"I have not." He answers.

There's silence.

The polygrapher is doing it on purpose, you're sure of it.

...

....

........

JD turns around to face you all and whispers, "Guys, I'm literally shaking for him. Look!" He held out his hand with the card, and it showed a true reflection of his words.

"That is..." She drags out the verdict.

The anticipation got so bad you've all somehow ended up standing, you all might as well press your noses up against the glass.

"True."

The cheering is loud when it swallows the holding room. It's almost shameful how much of a weight you felt lifted off your shoulders at the declaration. Drew is the only one to have told the truth for all three questions, giving him 3 points. He wins.

"Now, Drew. You get to ask any co-star any question you'd like." One of the crewmates instructs as they had you all lined up in the room under Drew's judgement. He stalked along, looking everyone in the eyes, yours lasted a little longer than he was willing to admit but he eventually stopped on Madison.

"Madison, Madison, Madison." Drew taunted in the mic and she rolled her eyes with an all-knowing grin.

Drew: "Not too long ago you were disrespecting my childhood delicacy, the uncrustable. Now, there are rumours going around that you've been seen with them lately, is it true?"

Small giggles were let out around the room. Drew is unbelievable.

"Yes." Madison whispers, looking off to the side.

Drew: What was that? I'll need you to speak up.

Madison: Yes! It's true. Satisfied?

Drew: Very. No further questions, your honour.

You all film the closing sequence, reminding the audience the final season will be released on Netflix on August 30th and September 25th, 2025.

You're all making your way out to the cars. The original groups naturally switched up as you all jumped into the car with people you were in conversations with as you left the studio. This time it's you, Drew, JD and Madelyn.

"Wow, that was lowkey worse than I thought it was going to be." JD admits from the passenger seat and you snicker. Without even realizing it, your head was laying on Drew's shoulder, feeling the sleepiness begin to settle in after an eventful afternoon.

"All that drama genuinely drained the energy from my body." You yawn, and Drew subtly shifts so that you'd find more comfort in him, and you snuggle up just a little more. This is a feeling he could get used to.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,@willowpains, @riaras-everthroner, @iteuosav

[ceeaann]

— The guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all?!

Pairing - Vi x Reader Summary - You’ve been crushing on the mysterious, mask-wearing clerk at your favorite record store—cool, quiet, and effortlessly charming. Determined to get closer, you come up with a plan to get his number. There’s just one problem. He’s not a he at all. Vi, your sharp-tongued, short-tempered classmate, has been keeping her double life a secret. But as you fall harder and she struggles to keep up the act, one question remains— What happens when the truth finally comes out? Content - 12.1k words, a valentine special collab with @kkoga (angst monster) , heavily inspired by tgswiiwaga, slow-burn romance, angst → confusion → self-discovery, avoidance & self-isolation, mild language, miscommunication, misgendering (unintentional), emotional distress and sexuality questioning

You first spotted him at that record store. A tiny, dimly lit shop tucked between a laundromat and a café, stacked floor to ceiling with vinyl, cassettes, and CDs. The kind of place that smelled like dust, nostalgia, and warm, worn-out wood.

And he was there—behind the counter, hood up, face half-hidden behind a mask, rifling through a stack of records like he had been living and breathing music since birth.

You could barely see his face, but a few strands of messy red-pink hair peeked out from under the hoodie. When he finally glanced up—just for a second—sharp, powder-blue eyes locked onto you before flicking away, completely uninterested.

Damn.

You weren’t usually into the quiet, mysterious types. You liked confident, showy people who could match your energy. But there was something about him—about the way he moved, the way he seemed lost in his own world—that made your heart stutter.

And just like that, you were hooked.

So, naturally, you kept coming back.

“Yo,” you greeted casually, leaning against the counter one afternoon, your acrylic nails tapping against the glass. “Got any new recommendations for me today, mystery clerk?”

He barely spared you a glance before exhaling sharply. “You again?” His voice was low, gruff—maybe even a little annoyed.

Cute.

“Duh. You’ve got the best taste,” you grinned, propping your chin on your hand. “Or are you finally gonna tell me your name so I can stop calling you ‘mystery clerk’?”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Buy something, or go home.”

Oof. Rude. But also… hot.

You tilted your head. “C’mon, can’t a girl just appreciate some good music recs?”

Another sigh. But this time, he actually moved, reaching under the counter to pull out a vinyl. “Here,” he said flatly, sliding it over to you. “You’ll like this.”

You blinked. “Oh? Finally warming up to me?”

Those powder-blue eyes flicked up, unimpressed. “You just won’t shut up otherwise.”

Your heart did a stupid little flip.

Yep. You were definitely into him.

And before you knew it, visiting that record store became part of your routine.

You weren’t even sure why you kept coming back. The mystery clerk wasn’t exactly friendly. If anything, he barely tolerated you. But there was something intriguing about him—the way he never said more than necessary, the way his powder-blue eyes flickered with something unreadable whenever you tried to pry.

You wanted to crack him open. Figure him out.

Make him look at you the way you looked at him.

So you kept pushing.

Vi tried not to react when she heard the familiar jingle of the bell. Kept her head down, shuffling through the stack of records in front of her like she hadn’t already memorized every title.

She had no reason to be nervous.

She’d been working at this shop for months. She’d dealt with all kinds of customers. Music nerds, college students, old guys trying to relive their youth.

But you?

You were different.

You were loud and bright, a walking storm of acrylic nails, glittery accessories, and the kind of confidence that made Vi’s skin itch.

And yet, for some reason, she kept coming back.

Always with that same teasing smirk, the same relentless energy, the same stupid, flirty lines that made Vi's ears burn.

And the worst part?

Vi didn’t hate it.

Which was exactly why she needed to shut this down.

You leaned onto the counter, watching as the mystery clerk sorted through records like he hadn’t just heard you enter.

The usual, then.

“hello,” you greeted, tilting your head to try and catch a glimpse of his face. “You're gonna pretend I don’t exist today, or are we finally on speaking terms?”

A sigh. Then, without looking up, he muttered, “You always exist. That’s the problem.”

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Wow. That’s the coldest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Still, no reaction.

Damn. Tough crowd.

You tapped your nails against the glass counter. “Sooo, what’s the deal? You got a name, or do I have to keep calling you ‘mystery clerk’?”

He exhaled through his nose. “I have a name.”

“Care to share it with the class?”

A pause. Then, dryly—

“No.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

God, he was so difficult. And yet, the more he pushed you away, the more you wanted to see what was underneath all that gruffness.

One day, you were gonna crack him.

But now, you weren’t sure when things shifted.

Maybe it was the day he let you browse through the records behind the counter, even though he definitely wasn’t supposed to.

Maybe it was the time you caught him humming along to a song playing over the speakers, and even though he noticed you staring, he didn’t stop.

Or maybe it was that night, when you showed up just before closing, soaked from the rain.

You weren’t planning to go to the shop. You were just walking home, feeling restless, when your feet carried you there anyway.

When you stepped inside, shivering and dripping onto the floor, he looked up—really looked up—for the first time in forever.

And for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw concern flicker in those powder-blue eyes.

“…You’re soaked,” he said flatly.

You sniffed. “Yeah, no shit.”

Instead of giving you his usual annoyed look, he sighed, reached behind the counter, and—

Tossed you a towel.

You blinked, catching it. “Wait, what—”

“You’re getting water everywhere,” he muttered, turning away like this wasn’t a big deal. “Dry off before the old man yells at me.”

You clutched the towel, staring at him in disbelief.

It wasn’t much. Just a small, quiet moment.

But your heart thumped all the same.

Vi cursed herself the second she tossed the towel.

Damn it. That was too nice.

Now she was gonna get attached.

The next day at school, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The way his voice sounded, low and cool. The way his hands moved when flipping through records. The way he just knew your taste in music without you even saying anything.

You sighed, resting your chin on your desk. “Ugh. I think I have a crush.”

Your friend beside you, blowing a bubble with their gum, raised a brow. “What, again? Who’s the unlucky victim this time?”

You huffed. “First of all, rude. Second, it’s this guy at the record store. He’s, like, super cool. Doesn’t talk much, but he totally has good music taste.”

Your friend snorted. “So you like him ‘cause he ignores you?”

“…Maybe.”

Before they could tease you more, the classroom door slid open, and a familiar figure strolled in.

Violet.

Vi was a known delinquent. Not the kind that skipped school completely, but the kind that barely followed any rules. Untucked uniform, tie loosened, red-pink hair a mess. She always had a band-aid or two somewhere—probably from getting into fights—and a permanent scowl on her face.

You barely paid attention to her but she looked… weirdly familiar.

You frowned, tilting your head slightly. Do I know her from somewhere?

Before you could figure it out, your friend nudged you. “So, are you gonna keep gushing about your record store crush or what?”

Oh. Right.

You shook off the thought and leaned forward with a dreamy sigh. “Okay, so he’s, like, insanely cool. He barely talks, but when he does? God. It’s like… y’know that mysterious, effortlessly hot vibe? That.”

Beside you, Vi choked on her drink.

You blinked at her. “Uh. You good?”

Vi cleared her throat aggressively, looking anywhere but at you. “Y-Yeah. Fine. Totally fine.”

You shrugged and continued, unaware of the way Vi’s entire face was burning. “Anyway, his voice? Hot. His eyes? Even hotter. He’s kinda mean, but in, like, an attractive way—”

Vi sank lower in her seat, hands gripping the hem of her blazer.

“Oh!” You clapped your hands together. “And he knows music. Like, he took one look at me and picked out the perfect album. I swear, we’ve got a connection.”

Vi shut her eyes. Oh my god, stop talking.

Your friend snickered. “Damn, you’re really down bad.”

You groaned, flopping dramatically onto the desk. “I know. But he’s just so—ugh.”

Vi pressed her fists to her burning cheeks, willing herself to disappear.

This was hell.

She was right there, sitting right next to you, and you still hadn’t realized.

And worst of all?

Now she knew exactly how much you liked her.

Sitting in class, listening to you ramble about your massive, embarrassing, painfully obvious crush—on her—and knowing you had no idea.

Vi had faced a lot of things in her life. Street fights, school suspensions, even the occasional run-in with cops.

But this?

This was worse.

She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so hard it hurt, trying desperately to tune you out.

No luck.

“…and the way he looks at me? Like, I swear he knows I like him.”

Vi swallowed. Oh, she has no idea.

Your friend hummed. “So why don’t you just confess?”

Vi nearly had a heart attack.

Your head flopped dramatically onto your desk. “Because I don’t wanna ruin the mystery, y’know? Like, what if he’s only cool because I don’t actually know him?”

Vi’s eye twitched. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Your friend snorted. “You’re overthinking it. He’s just some random guy at a record store.”

Vi exhaled.

Yes. Exactly.

Just some random guy.

And if Vi had anything to say about it, you were gonna keep thinking that for as long as humanly possible.

Because there was no way in hell she was letting you figure this out.

This was a nightmare.

Sitting in class, listening to you ramble about your massive, embarrassing, painfully obvious crush—on her—and knowing you had no idea.

Vi had faced a lot of things in her life. Street fights, school suspensions, even the occasional run-in with cops.

But this?

This was worse.

She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so hard it hurt, trying desperately to tune you out.

No luck.

“…and the way he looks at me? Like, I swear he knows I like him.”

Vi swallowed. Oh, she has no idea.

Your friend hummed. “So why don’t you just confess?”

Vi nearly had a heart attack.

Your head flopped dramatically onto your desk. “Because I don’t wanna ruin the mystery, y’know? Like, what if he’s only cool because I don’t actually know him?”

Vi’s eye twitched. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Your friend snorted. “You’re overthinking it. He’s just some random guy at a record store.”

Vi exhaled.

Yes. Exactly.

Just some random guy.

And if Vi had anything to say about it, you were gonna keep thinking that for as long as humanly possible.

Because there was no way in hell she was letting you figure this out. 

Vi squeezed her eyes shut.

If she just… stayed like this. Face down. Motionless.

Maybe—just maybe—she could die right here and now.

Vi needed a plan.

And fast.

Because there was no way she could survive another class period sitting next to you, listening to you go on about your crush—who, again, was her.

The problem was, she had no idea how to fix this.

Telling you outright? Not happening. That was practically social suicide.

Quitting the record store? No way. She actually liked that job.

Avoiding you? Also impossible, considering you were apparently obsessed with showing up at the store to flirt with her alter ego.

Which left her with only one option:

She had to make you lose interest.

Somehow.

Vi groaned, raking a hand through her hair. This was gonna suck.

DAY 1 

You were back at the record store the next day.

Because of course you were.

You’d spent the entire walk hyping yourself up, promising yourself you’d be cool, casual, and definitely not flustered.

But the second you stepped inside and saw him—hood up, mask on, flipping through records like he hadn’t just been staring in your daydreams all morning—your brain short-circuited.

You cleared your throat, pushing down the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest.

“Hello.”

Vi—er, mystery guy—didn’t even look up. “You again.”

You grinned. “Awww, you remember me.”

He sighed, muttering something under his breath. You caught the words so annoying but chose to ignore them.

Because, really, if he really thought you were annoying, he wouldn’t keep talking to you, right?

You leaned onto the counter. “So. Any recommendations for today?”

He slid a record toward you without hesitation.

You blinked down at it. “Wait… this is—”

“Obscure. Hard to find. And way outside your usual taste.”

Your grin widened. “You’re trying to get rid of me.”

“Obviously.”

Adorable.

You picked up the record, inspecting the cover. “Damn. If you’re gonna break my heart, at least do it gently.”

Vi—mystery guy—huffed, finally meeting your gaze. “I’m being very gentle.”

You laughed. God, he was fun to mess with.

And despite his whole act, you knew he didn’t actually hate you.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t always be so prepared for your visits.

You plopped the record onto the counter. “I’ll take it.”

“…What.”

You shrugged. “You picked it out for me, didn’t you? Can’t let your efforts go to waste.”

He stared at you like you’d just confessed to murder.

You smirked, fishing some cash out of your pocket. “Guess you’re stuck with me a little longer, huh?”

For a second—just a second—you swore you saw the tips of his ears turn red.

But then he scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You winked. “And yet, you love seeing me.”

He didn’t answer.

But he also didn’t deny it. 

Shit.

This was not going according to plan.

She was supposed to be pushing you away, not accidentally making you like her even more.

This was bad.

Very, very bad.

And the worst part?

A tiny, traitorous part of her didn’t hate it.

DAY 2

Vi wasn’t nervous.

Nope. Not at all.

Sure, she’d spent the entire morning convincing herself that you wouldn’t talk to her at school—because why would you? In your mind, she didn’t exist outside of that damn record store.

And sure, maybe her heart did skip a beat when she spotted you walking into class, chatting animatedly with your friends.

But she was not nervous.

The moment the teacher started reading out pairs for the group assignment, Vi barely paid attention—until she heard your name.

And then—

“…paired with Vi.”

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Oh, hell no.

She sat up so fast her knee banged against the desk. A few students turned to look, but she barely noticed.

There had to be a mistake.

You? Paired with her?

“Yo, Vi, chill out.” one of the guys snickered from across the room. 

Vi clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to chuck her notebook at him.

Meanwhile, you turned in your seat, scanning the classroom until your eyes landed on her.

Vi stiffened.

Your gaze lingered for a second, your head tilting slightly, like you were trying to place her.

And then—just like that—your expression shifted into something casual.

“Oh,” you said, getting up from your chair. “Guess that’s me.”

You walked over, dropping into the seat beside her without hesitation.

She should’ve skipped. She should’ve skipped.

“Alright,” you sighed, flipping through the worksheet. “Let’s get this over with.”

Vi swallowed hard, gripping her pen like it was a lifeline. “Yeah. Sure.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, reading the first question. “Alright, uh… What do you think?”

Vi blinked. “Huh?”

You gave her a look. “The question, dude. C’mon, stay with me.”

Vi’s brain short-circuited. Dude? You just called her dude?

“Right,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “Uh, I guess…” She skimmed the worksheet, barely processing the words. “This one?” She pointed to a random answer.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Vi hesitated. “...No?”

You snorted. “Yeah, let’s go with something else.”

Vi groaned internally. Great. She was an idiot and you thought she was dumb. This was just perfect.

To her credit, you didn’t seem too annoyed. If anything, you were just amused. You scribbled down an answer, tapping the pen against your chin. “Alright, next one…”

Vi exhaled slowly.

She just had to act normal. Keep it cool. Do the stupid assignment. And not think about how ridiculously close you were sitting.

Easy.

Totally easy.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a disaster.

The two of you managed to get through the assignment without any major incidents. You mostly did the writing while Vi tried not to make a fool of herself.

And now, as you leaned back in your chair, stretching, you let out a satisfied sigh.

“Alright, that’s done,” you said. “You’re not completely useless, I guess.”

Vi huffed out a laugh. “High praise.”

You smirked, tossing your pen onto the desk. “Gotta give credit where it’s due.”

Vi wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she just nodded.

A few seconds passed.

Then, just as quickly as you’d entered her space, you got up, gathering your things.

“Well, see ya.”

And just like that, you were gone, off to rejoin your friends, laughing at something one of them said.

Vi exhaled, slumping back in her chair.

Crisis mostly averted.

But she was way too close to being caught.

DAY 3

Vi was not about to let herself slip up.

Not now. Not ever.

So after her shift at the record store, she did what she always did—ripped out her piercings, scrubbed off her black nail polish, and made sure her school uniform looked just normal enough to keep you from noticing anything.

It was foolproof.

…Or so she thought.

Because the next morning, when she sat down in class, she made the fatal mistake of stretching her hands out on her desk.

And you noticed.

“Wait a second.”

Vi’s heart stopped.

She barely had time to react before you grabbed her hand, lifting it up for inspection.

“Your nails…” you murmured, narrowing your eyes.

Vi froze.

Oh shit.

There was still a faint trace of black nail polish around the edges of her nails, smudged just enough to be noticeable.

And the way you were staring at it?

Yeah. She was so dead.

Your brows furrowed in concentration. “This color… I feel like I’ve seen it before.”

Vi yanked her hand away, forcing a scoff. “It’s just nail polish. Who cares?”

You ignored her, eyes flickering in thought. Then, slowly—dangerously—your expression shifted.

Your lips parted slightly. “No way…”

Vi stiffened. Oh god, oh god, oh god—

You snapped your fingers. “The music store guy has the exact same nail polish.”

Vi’s stomach flipped.

Was this it? Was this how she got caught?

You stared at her for another few seconds, tilting your head.

Vi could feel the gears turning in your brain.

And then—

“…Meh.”

Vi blinked. “Huh?”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Probably a coincidence.”

Vi nearly collapsed from sheer relief.

You yawned, resting your chin in your palm. “Man, that guy’s been on my mind a lot lately. Think I should ask for his number?”

Vi’s entire body locked up.

She plastered on the most uninterested face she could manage. “Dunno. Maybe he’d say no.”

You snorted. “Pfft. Yeah, right. I’m adorable.”

Vi buried her face in her arms.

She was going to die.

DAY 4

Vi had been doing so well.

She’d managed to keep you clueless, survived another school day without getting caught, and even convinced herself that she was totally in control of this whole situation.

And then you showed up at the record store with that damn smile.

“Hey, mystery guy.”

Vi didn’t look up. “Back again? We're about to close.”

“Obviously.” You leaned against the counter, eyes twinkling. “And today, I actually need your help.”

Vi exhaled, pretending to be annoyed. “You always need my help.”

You ignored that. “So, I was thinking… You’ve got good taste in music, right?”

Vi smirked. “Clearly.”

“Well, I wanna hear it.” You grinned. “Make me a playlist.”

Vi blinked. “What.”

“You know. A playlist. Songs you think I’d like.”

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Oh, hell no.

That was dangerous. Too personal. Too close. Too much room for slipping up.

She needed an excuse. Something to shut this down fast.

“Nah,” she said flatly. “Not my problem.”

Your smile didn’t waver. “Oh, come on. I know you have a good one in mind. Just send it to me.”

“I don’t—”

“Here.”

Before Vi could react, you grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand toward you.

She stiffened instantly.

Because oh god, you were holding her hand.

Not just holding—writing on it.

Her brain completely short-circuited.

She barely processed the way your fingers traced over her skin, the slight ticklish sensation of the pen gliding against it, the casual ease with which you invaded her space like it was the most natural thing in the world.

By the time she snapped out of it, it was too late.

You pulled back, capping your pen with a satisfied nod.

“There,” you said. “That’s my number.”

Vi stared at her palm like it was a ticking bomb.

You winked. “Send me the playlist, okay?”

Vi swallowed. “Uh.”

You gave her a little wave, completely unaware of the absolute meltdown she was having.

“See ya, mystery guy.”

Then, just like that, you walked out.

Leaving Vi standing there.

With your number.

On her hand.

And the horrifying realization that she had no way out of this.

The second you stepped out of the record store, you bolted around the corner, whipped out your phone, and immediately started typing.

Grinning, you typed back.

Your phone practically exploded with notifications.

Your friends lost their minds in the chat.

You laughed, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

This was too fun.

Now, all you had to do was wait.

The second you walked out of the record store, Vi knew she was screwed.

It wasn’t just because you had given her your number. No—if it had been just that, she could’ve ignored it. Pretended she lost it. Lied about never seeing it.

But no. You wrote it on her damn hand.

And worse? You did it so casually—like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like it didn’t completely knock the air out of her lungs and set her brain on fire.

Vi was still standing there, completely frozen, when a low chuckle rumbled from the back of the store.

“You’re still in one piece, huh?”

Vi snapped out of it just in time to see Vander, her adoptive father and technically the shop’s owner, smirking as he wiped down the counter.

Powder, Vi’s little sister, was leaning dramatically against the nearest shelf, watching her with wide eyes. “Vi. Oh my God. You got a girl’s number.”

Vi scowled. “Shut up.”

“Oh, hell no.” Powder bolted forward, practically vibrating with excitement. “Lemme see!”

Before Vi could yank her hand away, Powder grabbed it, gasping at the sight of your number.

“Ohhh, this is so real.” Powder looked up at Vander with a huge grin. “Big sis has a crush.”

Vi yanked her hand back like it burned. “I do not.”

Vander chuckled. “You gonna call her?”

Vi stiffened. “What? No.”

Powder gasped dramatically. “You’re gonna ghost her?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Then what are you gonna do?”

Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Nothing. I’m gonna do nothing.”

Powder crossed her arms. “You can’t do nothing. She gave you her number. That’s, like, the universal ‘hey, I like you’ move!”

Vander hummed in agreement, setting down his rag. “Gotta say, kid, it’d be rude to leave her hanging.”

Vi’s face burned. “I don’t even know if she likes me like that!”

Powder snorted. “She wrote her number on your hand.”

“Yeah, maybe she just—” Vi cut herself off. Just what? Just wanted a playlist? Just wanted to mess with her? Just wanted an excuse to talk to her again?

Vander raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

“I’m not.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Vi groaned, shoving her hands deep into her hoodie pockets. “Can we please just close up the store and forget this ever happened?”

Vander chuckled. “Sure, sure. But if she shows up again, I’m making you ring her up.”

Vi froze.

“Wait, no—”

But Vander was already walking toward the back room, Powder following close behind with a devious smirk.

Vi slumped against the counter, exhaling sharply.

This was not how today was supposed to go.

Vi locked up the shop, shoving her hands deep into her hoodie pockets as she stepped onto the dimly lit street.

The air was cool, the usual hum of the city filling the silence. Normally, she liked the walk home. It was quiet, easy—time to clear her head.

Not tonight.

Tonight, her brain was screaming.

Because no matter how hard she tried to push it aside, her palm still tingled where you had grabbed it.

Where you had written your damn number.

Vi scowled, rubbing at her hand as she walked. The ink had smudged a little, but the numbers were still clear.

Send me the playlist, okay?

Your words echoed in her head, over and over, until she wanted to throw herself into traffic.

She could ignore it. She should ignore it.

But that wasn’t gonna stop you.

You’d just show up at the store again, all teasing and smug, cornering her into another conversation.

She hated how easily you did that. How easily you got under her skin.

Vi exhaled sharply, kicking at a loose rock on the sidewalk.

By the time she reached home, her nerves were shot. She slammed the door behind her, tossed her bag onto the floor, and collapsed onto her bed with a heavy sigh.

Her phone buzzed.

Her breath hitched.

She scrambled for it, unlocking the screen—

Not you.

Just some random notification.

Vi groaned, flopping onto her back.

This was ridiculous.

She needed to stop thinking about you.

She needed to end this now.

Without looking, she grabbed a wet wipe from her desk and started rubbing at her palm.

The ink smudged.

But as she watched the numbers fade, her chest got this weird, horrible feeling—like she was making a mistake.

She swallowed hard.

And before she could think about it too much, she grabbed a pen.

And rewrote your number.

Just in case.

Then, throwing the pen aside, she buried her face in her pillow and groaned.

She was so, so screwed.

Vi slumped at her desk, headphones on, phone in her hand, staring at the empty playlist with a scowl.

Making a playlist for someone should be easy. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before. But this wasn’t just some random playlist. You had asked for it. And somehow, that made it so much harder.

She huffed and started adding songs at random, going with her usual favorites.

"Smells Like Teen Spirit" – Nirvana.A classic. No way she could go wrong with that.

"The Pretender" – Foo Fighters.Yeah, solid choice. High energy. A little chaotic. Should be your vibe.

She tapped her fingers against the desk, thinking.

"Reptilia" – The Strokes.Good riff, good energy.

"Last Nite" – The Strokes.… Maybe a bit too mainstream? Whatever. Adding it anyway.

She continued scrolling, adding songs she thought you might like—or at least songs she hoped you’d think were cool.

"Do I Wanna Know?" – Arctic Monkeys.Wait. No. That sounded way too much like a confession. She deleted it immediately.

"Are You Gonna Be My Girl" – Jet.Deleted. Way too flirty.

She groaned, running a hand through her hair. Why is this so hard?

At this rate, she was going to end up overanalyzing every song. Should she just throw in some random stuff and hope for the best? Or should she actually put effort into it?

She clicked on a new song.

"Seven Nation Army" – The White Stripes.

Okay. This one could stay.

She sat back, staring at the playlist. It was good. Solid. A little messy, but it fit.

It should’ve been fine.

But somehow, it didn’t feel like enough.

She bit her lip, hesitating—then, without thinking too hard about it, she added one last song.

"Everlong" – Foo Fighters.

Her finger hovered over the screen.

That one was definitely a little too much.

Too personal.

Too… soft.

But instead of deleting it, Vi pressed save.

Now she just had to figure out how to actually send it to you without completely losing her mind.

Your number was still sitting there, clear as day, saved under a blank contact.

She shouldn’t text you.

She should just ignore it.

But if she ignored it, you’d definitely come back to the store, all smug and teasing, asking why she hadn’t sent the playlist yet. And then what? She couldn’t just say no. That would be weird. Suspicious.

Vi groaned, flopping back onto her bed.

This was so stupid.

It was just a playlist. It wasn’t like she was agreeing to a date or something. All she had to do was send a message, drop a few song links, and be done with it.

Simple.

Easy.

Except her hands wouldn’t move.

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, typing out a quick, Here’s your playlist, before immediately deleting it.

Too blunt.

She tried again. Here you go. Let me know what you think.

Nope. Too casual. Too friendly. She didn’t talk like that.

Vi groaned, covering her face with one hand. She had never felt so stupid over a text in her life.

Her phone buzzed.

Her heart jumped.

But when she checked, it wasn’t you. Just some random notification.

Vi scowled, tossing her phone onto the bed.

She needed to get a grip.

It was just a text. Just a stupid, meaningless text.

So why the hell was it making her so nervous?

Her eyes drifted back to her phone.

Maybe… just one message.

Just to get it over with.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard again, hesitating—before she finally, finally typed:

Here’s your playlist.

She hesitated.

Then, before she could overthink it any further, she hit send.

And immediately regretted it.

Vi tossed her phone across the bed, rolling onto her stomach and groaning into her pillow.

Now she had to wait.

And that was so much worse.

You had been checking your phone way too much.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

But, well… it had been hours since you gave your number to the record store clerk, and there was still nothing. No text. No playlist. No reaction.

You weren’t worried, exactly. It’s not like he had to text you right away. But still—what was taking so long?

It wasn’t like you asked for something difficult. Just a playlist. A few songs. How hard could that be?

Your friends had been blowing up the group chat all night.

You rolled your eyes.

Okay, maybe that was a little funny. The thought of him—cool, quiet, aloof him—nervous over a simple text? No way.

You checked your phone again. Still nothing.

With an exaggerated sigh, you flopped onto your bed, tossing your phone onto your pillow. Maybe you really would have to “accidentally” stop by the record store again, just to remind him.

Before you could dwell on it too much, your phone buzzed.

Your heart jumped.

You snatched it up so fast you nearly dropped it.

One new message.

From an unknown number.

Your stomach did a little flip.

You clicked it open.

You blinked.

That was… it?

No explanation? No hey, sorry for the wait? No follow-up?

Just straight to business.

You stared at the message for a second before a grin crept onto your lips.

Classic mystery guy.

Shaking your head, you clicked on the link, opening the playlist.

The first few songs made sense. Smells Like Teen Spirit, The Pretender, Reptilia—all solid, all very him.

But as you scrolled further, something caught your eye.

"Everlong" – Foo Fighters.

You paused.

That one felt… different.

More personal.

Your lips curled into a smirk.

Oh, this was interesting.

Grinning, you clicked play.

Then, without missing a beat, you typed back:

You: Took you long enough ;)You: Good taste though. Didn’t take you for a Foo Fighters kind of guy.

And then, for good measure:

You: Guess I’ll have to come back and thank you in person.

You hit send, tossing your phone aside as Everlong started playing through your speakers.

Let’s see how he handled that.

Vi had finally started to relax.

She’d thrown herself onto her bed, tucked herself under the blankets, and convinced herself that it didn’t matter.

Your number was still there, sitting clear as day in her contacts. But if she ignored it, nothing bad would happen.

She could just go to sleep, wake up, go to work tomorrow, and pretend this never—

BZZT.

Vi flinched.

Her whole body tensed as she stared at her phone.

It was probably nothing. A spam message. An email.

Her phone buzzed again.

Nope. That was definitely a text.

Vi squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t check it. Don’t check it. Just sleep.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Oh, come on,” Vi groaned, rolling over and grabbing her phone.

Her screen lit up.

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Her face burned. Shit.

She knew she should’ve taken that song out.

Vi sat up so fast she nearly flung herself out of bed.

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, running a hand down her face.

She was so screwed.

Powder’s muffled voice called from the next room. “Vi? Why are you having a crisis?”

“I am not having a crisis!”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Oh my God, she texted you, didn’t she?!”

Vi threw a pillow at the wall. “Go to sleep, Powder!”

Her little sister just cackled.

Vi groaned, turning back to her phone.

Okay. Okay. She just had to answer normally. Like a normal person.

She started typing.

Vi: Didn’t realize I was on a deadline.

No, too dry.

She deleted it and tried again.

Vi: Didn’t know you were that impatient.

No, that sounded flirty.

God, what was wrong with her?

Powder’s voice rang out again. “Vi, if you don’t text her back, I will do it for you.”

Vi hissed. “Mind your own business!”

Powder snickered.

Vander’s voice came from down the hall, groggy with sleep. “Both of you, go to bed.”

Vi exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple.

After a full minute of struggling, she gave up and just typed:

Vi: Glad you liked it.

Simple. Safe. Nothing weird.

She hovered over the send button.

Her thumb twitched.

Then, against her better judgment, she added:

Vi: You don’t have to thank me.

There. That should be enough.

Before she could overthink it, she hit send and immediately dropped her phone onto the bed like it was a bomb.

Powder’s voice rang out one last time, muffled but way too smug:

“You’re so whipped.”

Vi buried her face in her pillow and groaned.

She was so, so screwed.

DAY 5 

The next day Vi found herself immersed in a carnival-style event at the local park. Vander’s friend was holding the event for charity, and he had asked the crew to pitch in. Powder had dragged Vi along, claiming it was going to be "fun" and that she could get free food, which Vi was more than happy to oblige. She had no school today, so why not help out?

Vi was stationed at one of the shooting booths, managing the game for the event. She wasn’t a fan of the loud noises or the chaos of crowds, but it kept her distracted. It kept her from thinking too much about you.

You were still in her head after last night. The playlist. The text. That small, nervous excitement that she couldn't shake. It was driving her crazy. So, she focused on her work and the customers in front of her, pushing all thoughts of you aside.

Just then, her eyes caught a familiar figure entering the park.

It was you.

Her heart skipped a beat. You weren’t just casually strolling through, though. You were heading right toward her booth.

Her stomach did a flip, and she felt her face flush. No. No, no, no. Why now? Why here?

Vi didn’t know how to act. There you were, looking like you belonged at this carnival more than anyone else, as if you hadn’t completely wrecked her calm and composed façade just the night before. Vi’s grip tightened around the clipboard in her hands, her eyes instinctively darting around for a way to hide—anything to avoid a repeat of their last awkward encounter.

Her eyes landed on the table next to her. A pile of carnival masks, left over from a previous booth, stared back at her. One mask in particular—a plain party mask—caught her attention. It wasn’t too flashy or dramatic. It was simple, easy to put on, and most importantly, it would cover her face. Perfect.

Without thinking too much about it, she quickly grabbed the mask and slipped it over her face, adjusting it to cover her expression just enough so that she could breathe, but still stay somewhat hidden.

Meanwhile, you were happily strolling through the carnival with your friends, casually making your way to the shooting booth. You weren’t expecting to win, but you were definitely up for the challenge.

“Bet I can beat you,” one of your friends teased, nudging you forward. “Come on, let’s see what you got.”

You sighed, a bit cocky. “I’ve got this in the bag. Watch and learn.”

Your friends laughed as you took your turn, aiming at the targets. But for some reason, the gun felt heavier than you remembered, and your aim was off. Your frustration grew with every miss.

“Ugh! Seriously?” you groaned as you fumbled with the gun, only managing to hit one target out of five.

Vi, watching from behind the booth, saw you struggling. She shifted uncomfortably in her position, feeling that familiar tug in her chest. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t like seeing you upset, even if you weren’t aware of it.

After a moment, Vi stepped forward, pulling her mask down slightly—just enough so it stayed secure but still let her speak. “You look like you need a hand,” she said, her voice a little hesitant. Her stomach flipped at the thought of being noticed. She wasn’t supposed to be the one in the spotlight, not here, not now.

You blinked, caught off guard by her presence. “What? No, I’m fine, really. Just having an off day.”

She raised an eyebrow, though her mouth quirked into an amused smile under her mask. “Doesn’t look like it.” She gestured at the gun. “You want me to take a shot?”

You hesitated. Something about her seemed oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place it. It wasn’t like you’d seen her before, but the way she carried herself... it reminded you of something.

Before you could say anything, she snatched up the gun with an easy, practiced motion. She set her stance and began taking her shots with precision, hitting every target effortlessly.

You gawked at her in silence. Damn, she’s good.

With one final shot, she hit the last target, and the bell rang, signaling a win. The lights flashed above the booth, and she handed you the prize—a giant stuffed bear.

You blinked, completely dumbfounded. “Wait, you really didn’t have to do that. I was just… trying to have fun. I didn’t expect to actually win.”

Vi shrugged, looking just a little too calm for someone who had just stepped in to save the day. "No big deal. You looked like you needed a little help."

But her mind was spinning. Why did I do that? Why did I step in?

Her eyes flicked nervously toward you, but behind her mask, her face flushed red. What the hell, Vi? She cursed to herself. Why are you acting like this?

You blinked again, studying her a little more closely. That odd sense of familiarity crept back, and you couldn’t shake it. There was something about her—the way she moved, how she made everything look so easy. But the mask was throwing you off. Maybe it’s just me overthinking. You tried to push the thought aside.

“Thanks,” you said, awkwardly accepting the prize. “I owe you one.”

Vi, still in a daze, managed a short nod, her heart racing. “No need. Just… enjoy the game.”

You gave her a small smile, but the moment was over. You turned back to your friends, who were eagerly moving toward the next booth.

As you walked away, you glanced over your shoulder, just to see her standing there, adjusting the mask, her posture stiff and unsure, like she was trying to disappear into the background.

Vi’s stomach was doing flip-flops, and her thoughts were running wild. I’m an idiot. Why the hell did I step in like that? Why’d I even try to help her? She doesn’t need me to do that, and now I look like a fool.

She couldn’t stop replaying the scene in her head, the way you’d looked at her for just a second too long, like you recognized her. Oh my god, what if she knows? What if she realizes who I am?

She adjusted her mask a little, trying to calm her nerves. You’re fine, Vi. It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.

But deep down, she wasn’t so sure.

She tried to distract herself by focusing on the next group of carnival-goers who approached her booth. But all she could think about was you—and that mask that probably wasn’t even enough to keep you from figuring out who she was.

Vi barely made it through the rest of her shift.

After you left the booth, she couldn’t stop replaying the moment in her head. The way you had looked at her. That pause when you had stared at her just a second too long. That stupid feeling in her gut that told her she was being so obvious.

She didn’t recognize me, right?

Vi groaned, running a hand down her face. She could still feel the warmth on her cheeks, and the way her fingers had trembled when she handed you the stuffed bear.

"Vi, are you good?"

She stiffened. Powder was suddenly right there, standing next to her booth with a half-eaten funnel cake in her hands, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Vi sighed, adjusting the mask on her face. “I’m fine, Powder.”

"You sure?" Powder smirked, taking a slow bite of her snack. "‘Cause you look like you’re about to pass out."

Vi shot her a glare. “Go bother someone else.”

“Ohhh, touchy,” Powder teased, rocking on her heels. "You look extra weird today. What’s with the mask, anyway?" She poked Vi’s arm. "What, you trying to be mysterious or something?"

Vi stiffened, nearly choking on her own breath. “No,” she said way too fast.

Powder’s smirk widened. “OHHHH MY GOD.” She pointed at Vi like she just cracked some world-ending secret. “You’re hiding from someone!”

Vi paled. “Shut up.”

"You are!” Powder cackled, her blue eyes gleaming. “Wait, wait—who is it? Someone from school? Omg, do you owe someone money? Did you piss off the wrong person?"

Vi groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Powder, I swear—"

Then, as if the universe was hell-bent on making her suffer, your voice cut through the carnival noise.

“Guys! I'm gonna try that game again—”

Vi froze.

She barely had time to react before you and your friends walked back toward the booth.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

She spun around so fast Powder blinked in confusion. “What are you—”

“COVER ME,” Vi hissed, practically throwing herself behind Powder.

Powder snorted. "Vi, you’re like 6 inches taller than me—”

“Shut up,” Vi whisper-yelled.

Powder turned, watching as you approached the booth again, seemingly interested in another round. Her eyes flicked back to Vi, who was literally crouching behind the prize shelf like some kind of escaped fugitive.

Her grin grew wicked. "Wait a second.”

Vi paled. "Powder. No."

Powder gasped, clapping her hands together. “IT’S HER.”

“SHHHH,” Vi hissed, shoving Powder away before she could draw more attention. “Be cool, be normal.”

Powder was not normal. In fact, she was giggling like a madman.

Vi had never known fear like this.

She stayed frozen in place, barely daring to peek out from behind the booth. You cannot recognize me, you cannot recognize me, you cannot recognize me—

Meanwhile, you handed some tickets to the person running the booth (thankfully not Vi) and picked up the toy gun again.

You squinted at the targets, biting your lip in focus. “Alright, I gotta redeem myself. No way I’m losing again.”

Your friends cheered you on as you took your shots—though you weren’t that much better than before.

From behind the booth, Vi watched, her fingers gripping the edge of the wooden counter.

She hated how cute you looked when you were focused.

FUCK.

She turned away, squeezing her eyes shut. Get a grip, Vi. Pull yourself together. You’re wearing a mask. She has no idea it’s you. Just stay put and—

"Hey, where’d the guy from earlier go?"

Vi's blood ran cold.

You were looking around, puzzled, obviously wondering where the masked mystery guy had disappeared to.

Powder, the absolute menace, grinned so wide it could split her face in half.

“Oh, him?” she said sweetly, her voice dripping with mischief.

Vi panicked.

She kicked Powder’s ankle under the booth.

Powder yelped. “Ow! Rude!”

You blinked at her. "Huh?"

Powder scowled at Vi (who was mouthing I will end you from behind the counter), then turned back to you with an innocent shrug.

"Dunno where he went," Powder said casually, rubbing her shin. "Probably went on break or something."

You frowned, disappointed. “Damn. Alright.”

Vi exhaled so hard she felt her soul leave her body.

You sighed, shaking your head before turning to leave. "Oh well. Let’s try the ring toss next."

Your friends nodded, and just like that, you walked away.

Vi didn’t move until you were completely out of sight.

Then, she collapsed against the booth, staring at the sky like she had just survived a near-death experience.

Powder immediately burst out laughing.

"Oh my God," she wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. "That was painful to watch. I should’ve recorded that."

Vi groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Kill me."

"Seriously, though—"why" are you hiding?" Powder grinned, nudging her sister. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me—you have a crush on her.”

Vi flinched so hard it was like she got shot.

Powder gasped dramatically. "HOLY SHIT. YOU TOTALLY DO.”

Vi grabbed a random stuffed animal and smacked Powder with it. "SHUT UP."

Powder just cackled harder.

Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. This was a disaster.

Because, deep down, she knew Powder was right.

She had it bad.

And worse? You still had no idea.

DAY 6

Vi woke up feeling like she had been hit by a truck.

Not physically—though Powder had tackled her in a fit of laughter at least once after the carnival—but emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually.

Because, well… she had hid from you.

Like a total idiot.

Groaning, she shoved her pillow over her face and refused to move.

Maybe if she stayed in bed long enough, the earth would just open up and swallow her whole.

You didn’t recognize me… right?

The thought had been plaguing her all night. You had looked at her funny. There was something in the way your gaze lingered, like a puzzle piece that almost fit but not quite.

Vi groaned again, rolling onto her side.

She should’ve just acted normal. Just played it cool. But nooo, she had to throw a mask on her face and then go and win a stupid bear for you.

She punched her pillow. WHY did I do that?!

And worse—why did she kind of like the way you had smiled at her for it?

No. No, she was not thinking about that.

She needed to get a grip.

With a long, suffering sigh, Vi finally sat up, rubbing her face. It was her day off, and she was determined to not make it about overthinking every embarrassing thing she had done in the last 24 hours.

…Or at least she was going to be determined. After coffee.

She dragged herself to the kitchen, where Powder was already sitting at the table, swinging her legs and scrolling on her phone.

As soon as Vi entered, Powder grinned.

“Morning, mystery guy.”

Vi immediately turned around. “Nope.”

Powder cackled. “You are so embarrassing.”

Vi groaned, grabbing a mug and pouring herself coffee. “Please, for the love of God, shut up.”

Powder ignored her completely. “No, but seriously, Vi, that was painful to watch. I mean, you were full-on hiding behind a prize shelf like a little kid. That was some next-level awkward.”

Vi scowled. “I panicked.”

"Clearly." Powder smirked. "You should’ve just talked to her."

Vi scoffed. "Oh, yeah, because that would’ve gone so well. ‘Hey, remember me? I’m actually the guy you were lowkey flirting with at the record store, except I’m not a guy, and I was wearing a stupid mask all night because I’m an idiot—’”

Powder wheezed. "Yeah, that would've been hilarious."

Vi sighed, sipping her coffee. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Powder rested her chin in her hand. "Sooo… are you ever gonna tell her?”

Vi nearly choked on her coffee. “Tell her?”

“Yeah, y’know,” Powder said, tilting her head. “That you’re you.”

Vi ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. “She doesn’t need to know.”

Powder blinked. “She thinks you’re a dude.”

"She assumes I’m a dude,” Vi corrected. “I never said I was."

Powder gave her a look. "Vi, you literally avoided correcting her every time she called you ‘him.’"

Vi groaned. "It’s not that deep, Powder."

"It is that deep!" Powder threw her hands up. "You like her! And now you’re stuck in this dumbass mess because you couldn’t just say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m a girl.’”

Vi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, one—I don’t like her. And two—”

"BULLSHIT." Powder pointed dramatically. “You are so down bad.”

Vi turned red. “I am not.”

Powder leaned in with a wicked grin. “Then why’d you win her a stuffed animal, Vi?”

Vi froze.

Powder gasped, smacking the table. “OH MY GOD.”

Vi wanted to die.

“You so like her,” Powder cackled. “Ohhh, I’m telling Vander—”

Vi slammed her hand over Powder’s mouth. “Don’t you dare.”

Powder muffled a laugh against Vi’s palm before pulling back, grinning so smugly.

Vi groaned, rubbing her temple. “This is a disaster.”

"No, this is hilarious," Powder corrected.

Vi ignored her, downing the rest of her coffee like it was alcohol.

After a long silence, Powder spoke again, her tone suddenly too casual.

“Sooo… what if she comes back to the record store today?”

Vi froze.

She hadn’t even thought about that.

You had said you’d come back.

Vi’s heart did an annoying little flip.

Powder’s smirk widened. “Ohhh, you’re so screwed.”

Vi put her head down on the table with a thud. 

DAY 7

Vi sighs, rubbing the back of her neck as she leans against the counter. It’s been a busy Saturday, and she’s been thinking about you more than she’d like to admit. Every time she catches a break, her mind drifts back to the way you’d smile at her, the way your eyes would light up whenever you walked into the shop. She tells herself it’s nothing, just a passing distraction. She’s supposed to be focused on work, not daydreaming.

She glances up at the clock.

4:00 PM.

Still no sign of you.

Vi frowns. It shouldn’t matter. It’s not like you’ve been coming every day. Maybe you’re busy. Maybe you’ve lost interest. She shouldn’t be disappointed. She doesn’t even know why she cares.

She pulls off her cap and mask, letting the cool air hit her face. It’s probably better this way. She can stop overthinking, stop wondering if you’d show up.

Meanwhile, you’re sprinting down the sidewalk, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and nerves. You’re late. Traffic’s been hell, and now your stomach is in knots. You promised yourself you wouldn’t think about it too much, but how can you not?

You reach the record store, hand hovering over the door handle, and then—

You freeze.

There she is.

Vi.

The mask and cap are gone. The moment your eyes land on her, it’s like everything else fades away. The voice. The posture. The way she stands, leaning against the counter, the easy confidence in her movements.

Oh my god.

It was her all along.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and your stomach lurches. You’ve been crushing on Vi—the girl behind the counter—this whole time. The girl who was always right in front of you.

Your pulse quickens, blood rushing to your head as a mix of panic and disbelief crashes over you. You can barely process the flood of thoughts, and then it hits you even harder: she knew. She knew you thought she was a guy, and she never said a word. Never corrected you. Never let on.

What the hell? Why didn’t she say something?

Your fists clench at your sides as a wave of humiliation floods your chest. Did she think it was funny? Was she watching you, letting you stumble around, thinking you were flirting with some mysterious guy while secretly knowing you were completely wrong?

A sharp heat rises in your face as embarrassment claws at you, twisting into something more uncomfortable. You want to leave. You want to forget about all of this, but something’s gnawing at you. Something deeper that you don’t want to confront.

If Vi never corrected you, then why the hell were you attracted to her in the first place?

You stop yourself, heart pounding in your throat as your stomach churns. This isn’t just about her being a girl. You didn’t care about that before. Or at least, you didn’t think you did. But now? It’s impossible to ignore.

You take a shaky step back, your chest tightening with all these conflicting emotions you can’t name. Confusion. Embarrassment. Frustration.

And yet, there’s something else, something undeniable, twisting at the pit of your stomach.

You can’t go in. Not now. Not when she might see the look on your face. Not when you don’t even know what’s going on in your own head.

Without thinking, you turn and rush toward the curb, hailing the first cab that passes by. The ride back feels like an eternity. You sit there, arms crossed tightly over your chest, staring out the window as the world blurs by. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, looping in on itself, never quite settling on anything.

By the time you step through the door at home, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed. You’re unsettled. Conflicted. And you still don’t have the answers.

“Home so soon?” your mom’s voice calls from the kitchen, but you don’t even acknowledge her.

“Yeah, changed my mind,” you mutter, your voice lacking conviction as you head upstairs.

You slam the bedroom door shut behind you and collapse face-first into your bed, groaning into the pillow.

This is so stupid. Why do you care this much? Why does it feel like your entire world just shifted, and you can’t even keep up?

But the worst part? You still like Vi. You like her. And you have no idea what to do with that.

Everything feels like one big mess, and you’re stuck at the center of it.

 DAY 1 

Vi walks into the classroom, headphones stuffed into her bag seconds before entering. She lets her eyes wander around the classroom, and her gaze lands on you. You had been talking to your friends for the past few minutes, rambling on about boys or whatever the hell you guys could ramble about.

Vi places her bag next to her seat, and sits down. She took out her textbook, silently waiting for you to greet her.

…

Five minutes had passed, and it seemed as if she hadn’t even existed to you. Your friends started asking about ‘’the mysterious clerk’’ you had liked. Your expression faltered— for just a split second. But no one else noticed. You told your friends nothing new had happened, and brushed the topic aside.

Vi’s eyes dimmed. I mean, you hadn’t said anything bad. It was—  whatever.

DAY 2

Okay, she had definitely done something wrong. You talked about her yesterday, only answering a question, your friend asking for new updates on ‘’the mysterious clerk’’. You didn’t visit the shop either, Vi finding herself disappointed at the fact you hadn’t shown up. It was—  whatever.

DAY 3

‘’Hello? Vi? You there?’’ Vander says as he shakes his hand in front of Vi, trying to catch the clerks attention. Vi snaps out of whatever daze she had caught herself in.

‘’Ah— Vander? Yes sorry, I zoned out there.’’ Vander lets out a light laugh, and tells Vi it’s not a big deal. Vi curses to herself, as Powder exits the bathroom. 

‘’Saw what just happened. You good sis? You never zone out like that.’’ Powder was worried. Vi had been zoning out a lot these past few days; her sister never does that.

‘’Yeah no I’m… I’m fine. Just tired Powpow, schools been a lot.’’ Powder frowns. She was sure there was more Vi wasn’t telling her, but she knew Vi wasn’t in the mood.

‘’Okay, don’t forget to take care of yourself.’’ Vi sighs in relief as Powder starts to mind her own business. Vi doesn’t know why she keeps thinking about you— she barely even knows the girl. So what if she knew her favorite songs? So what if she knew you liked eating strawberry ice cream more than chocolate? It wasn’t that big of a deal— it was just little things. She didn’t even care that much.

DAY 4

Vi watched as you laughed with your friends, all of them sat near you. Back then— you’d try to include her in all the conversations, talking about ‘’the mysterious clerk’’. But now? You had barely spoken a word about her—  or rather, him. It was starting to concern Vi. She doesn’t recall doing anything offensive. Vi sighs. She had come to terms with her caring— even if she didn’t know why. It was quite the headache, but maybe, a part of her— had been missing you all this time.

But still, the girl had no idea why. So Vi had held it in, hoping today would be the day you finally decided to ‘’grace’’ her with your presence.

DAY 5

Vi was losing her mind.

She had no idea what was going on.

One day, you were all smiles, flirting, laughing, hanging around the store like you belonged there. Then suddenly—nothing.

You didn’t show up. You didn’t look at her in class. You didn’t even acknowledge her existence.

It wasn’t just weird—it was wrong.

Vi sat on the couch, tossing a stress ball up and catching it repeatedly, her leg bouncing. She hated feeling like this—like something was out of her control. She just needed to know what the hell happened.

She threw the ball harder. It smacked against the wall and hit her in the face.

“Dude,” Powder said from across the room, watching the whole thing. “What’s up with you?”

Vi scowled, rubbing her forehead. “Nothin’.”

Powder raised a brow. “Mhm. Right. That’s why you just took yourself out with a stress ball?”

Vi grumbled something under her breath, slumping back.

Powder hopped onto the couch beside her, nudging her shoulder. “Come on. You’re acting weird. Did something happen at school?”

Vi hesitated.

Did something happen?

She wracked her brain for answers.

You had been fine the last time she saw you at the record store. You even—she swallowed—flirted with her. You had laughed, teased her, looked at her in that way that made her ears burn.

And then?

Radio silence.

Powder poked her. “You’re thinking way too hard about this.”

Vi groaned, covering her face. “She’s ignoring me.”

Powder blinked. “Huh?”

“She—” Vi huffed, dropping her hands. “She was talking to me just fine before. And now? She won’t even look at me.”

Powder frowned, tilting her head. “Did you say something to piss her off?”

“No!” Vi paused. “…I don’t think so?”

Powder deadpanned. “Vi.”

“I didn’t!” Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I have no clue what I did.”

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Powder said, raising her hands. “So, what, she just randomly started ignoring you?”

Vi clenched her jaw, leaning forward. “It’s not just that.”

The way she looked at her was different now—like Vi was something she didn’t want to be near.

Like she was some kind of problem.

And Vi hated it.

She didn’t even know why she cared so much.

It wasn’t like they were close. It wasn’t like she was owed anything.

Hell, she barely even knew this girl.

But still.

Something about being shut out so suddenly burned.

Powder nudged her. “If you really didn’t do anything, maybe she’s just dealing with her own stuff.”

Vi exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Give it time,” Powder said, patting Vi’s arm. “If she wants to talk, she’ll come to you. If not, then, y’know… whatever.”

Vi grunted, crossing her arms.

She hated waiting. Hated not knowing.

But what else could she do?

So, for now, she’d do what she could.

Wait.

DAY 6

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, staring blankly at the ceiling. The past few days had been… weird. Confusing. Your mind had been running in circles ever since you found out about Vi—the Vi who worked at the record store, the one who had been effortlessly cool, a little smug, and—God—the one you had definitely developed a crush on.

Except, she wasn’t a he.

And somehow, that had sent you spiraling into an existential crisis.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. This was ridiculous. It wasn’t like your feelings had changed overnight. Vi was still Vi. The same Vi who made you laugh with her dumb little comebacks and messed with you in that annoyingly attractive way. The same Vi who made your heart do flips every time she said your name.

So why the hell did everything feel so different now?

Then it hit you.

It wasn’t that you liked Vi because you thought she was a guy. It was because you liked her. You liked her—just as she was. The way she could be effortlessly confident one moment and somehow make you feel like the only person in the room the next. The way she could listen even when she acted like she didn’t care.

You liked Vi.

The realization settled deep in your chest. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just… unfamiliar. You’d never let yourself think about girls like that before. Not seriously, at least. But now that you were, it felt kind of terrifying and freeing at the same time. The fear wasn’t in liking her—it was in not knowing what that meant. Not knowing how to deal with it.

You flopped onto your bed with a groan, burying your face in your pillow. Maybe this was just a phase. Maybe you were overthinking it, letting your mind go to weird places.

But deep down, you already knew the truth.

It wasn’t just some fleeting thing. You liked Vi. You liked how she said your name in that low voice, like she had all the time in the world for you. You liked how she made you feel, how her presence felt like both a challenge and a comfort at the same time.

And maybe that was okay.

Maybe it was okay that you didn’t have all the answers. Maybe it was okay to not have everything figured out yet.

For now, you just let yourself feel. You didn’t need to understand it all, not right this second. All you needed to know was that, for the first time in a long while, you were starting to let yourself want something. Someone. And that was enough for now.

DAY 7

You didn’t expect to feel so nervous. You’d spent the last few days trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t a big deal. That it was just a conversation. That Vi would probably be completely chill about it.

But standing outside the record store now, you felt your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn’t planned on coming here today, but somehow, your feet had led you to the front door.

Vi jolts out of her thoughts when the sound of the door chime cuts through the quiet of the store. She quickly stands upright, her gaze landing on the door as it swings open. She expects the usual group of customers, maybe a few regulars, but then her heart stops when she sees you standing in the doorway. Your eyes meet hers, and for a split second, the world feels like it slows down.

You’re here.

You, who she hadn’t seen in days. You, who had left her hanging without so much as a word. She doesn’t know if she’s relieved or frustrated, but she definitely doesn’t know what to feel when she sees the look on your face—your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, your posture tense.

“Y-You’re back,” Vi stammers, her voice catching as she takes a step toward you. Her breath feels stuck in her chest as she watches you take a hesitant step forward.

There’s a tense silence that fills the space between you both. Vi fidgets with the sleeve of her jacket, unsure of what to do with her hands. Her nerves are firing, her thoughts scattered all over the place. She hasn't felt this way in a long time—so unsure, so vulnerable.

“Yeah…” you say, your voice quieter than usual. You run a hand through your hair, looking away for a brief moment before your eyes dart back to hers.

Vi stands there, waiting for you to say something more, but instead, the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. You’d had the whole ride back to think about what to say, but now that you’re standing in front of her, it’s as if your mind has gone blank. All the questions you’ve been harboring about what happened between the two of you, about why you hadn’t seen her, they’re all jumbled up inside you. You want answers, but at the same time, you’re not even sure if you’re ready for them.

Finally, the silence stretches too long for either of you to ignore.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you blurt out, the words rushing out of you before you can stop them. Your voice is small, but the frustration behind it is clear. “Why didn’t you say anything? You knew I thought you were a guy... and you let me believe that. Why?”

Vi’s eyes widen at the sudden outburst. She hadn’t expected you to confront her like this—not now, not after everything that had happened. Her mouth opens, but the words don’t come out at first. The shock is evident on her face, her mind racing to piece together what you’re really asking.

“I…” Vi stumbles over her words, feeling heat rush to her face. “I wasn’t trying to— I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, okay? I didn’t know what to do… I didn’t know how to tell you without it being… awkward.” Her voice falters, her nerves taking over as she nervously scratches the back of her neck. “I mean, you came to the store, and you were all friendly, and I didn’t want to mess that up. I thought if I told you, you’d stop coming, and I didn’t want that.”

Your chest tightens as her words hit you. You had always suspected there was something more to her silence, but hearing it from her mouth makes it all feel real. Vi was caught between wanting to be honest and wanting to keep things easy, and in doing so, she pushed you away without even realizing it.

"Why didn’t you just tell me the truth, Vi?" you ask, your voice softer now, but still laced with confusion. "Why make me figure it out on my own?"

Vi bites her lip, looking down at the counter, clearly struggling with her emotions. “I didn’t want you to think I was… I don’t know… trying to trick you or something.” She takes a deep breath, meeting your eyes with a mix of vulnerability and frustration. “I liked you, okay? And I didn’t want to scare you off with the whole… ‘girl’ thing. But I get it. I messed up.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you process her words. You didn’t know what to think, or what you even wanted to hear. Part of you still feels betrayed, but another part of you can’t deny the flutter of something else at the thought of her liking you back.

"Why didn’t you just say it from the start?" You step closer, your frustration building again. "I didn’t care that you were a girl. Why would you think that would matter? It’s not about that."

Vi looks like she’s been struck, her face flushing even more at the implication. She swallows, the weight of your words settling in her chest. She wants to say something—anything to explain herself—but the words are trapped in her throat.

"I’m sorry," she whispers finally, her voice strained. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just… I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t."

The air is thick with the tension of your unsaid thoughts. It’s clear you’re both stuck in this moment, unsure of where to go next. The truth is hanging between you, but it’s messy and complicated. There are no easy answers. No quick fixes.

You take another step toward her, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you see something in Vi’s eyes—a kind of hope, mixed with fear, but also something softer.

"Maybe… we could just start over?" You suggest hesitantly, the words leaving your lips before you can second-guess them. "Like, just talk? Without all the confusion?"

Vi’s eyes widen in disbelief for a moment before her lips pull into a small, nervous smile. "I’d like that," she says quietly.

And just like that, it feels like the weight of the past few days lifts, even if just a little. You both know there’s still a lot left to figure out, but for now, the awkward tension has broken, and maybe that’s enough for now.

Vi steps closer, her usual confident demeanor back in place, though her eyes still hold that vulnerability. “You sure? I mean, I might be a little awkward,” she says with a sheepish grin.

You snort, feeling lighter than you have in days. “I think I can handle awkward.”

Vi laughs, the sound soft and genuine, as the air around you both shifts into something more comfortable. Maybe you don’t have all the answers yet, but at least you’ve started figuring it out—together.

a/n - got lazy on the ending guys sori ;-;

[nana-au]

𝐁𝐅𝐅! 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈 | your best friend wants to know what kissing feels like MDNI

warnings: heated make out, perverted thoughts, dry humping

Your best friend's lips were wet with spit and delightfully pink when he asked you if you've ever kissed before. You shake your head, confirming that you haven't, and if it weren't for the fact Yuji was your best friend you would have been embarrassed admitting that. But he was, so you weren't. You knew that he also had never kissed someone. Neither of you had ever dated anybody - always too involved in your own little bubble together. Attached at the hip.

"How come you're asking?" you question him, your eyes locking with his. He dodged the question, stuttering out nonsense as his cheeks turned the color of his hair.

"N-no reason," he blushed, and you nodded slowly - taking in how nervous your friend became.

It didn't take a whole lot of prying - it never did with Yuji. It wasn't unlike him to bring up something silly before trying to dismiss the fact he ever said it - like the time he asked your bra size. You looked up at him in shock, the skittle you were biting down on caught in your throat, causing you to choke. After recovering you gasped out, "Sorry. my what?" you asked him to clarify and his cheeks turned their signature rosy hue.

"I'm sorry... I don't know why I asked that," he stammered, pulling his his hoodie over his face and tightening the draw strings. It didn't take long for him to admit that he was just curious - and that he was sorry for how perverted it sounded. You patted his back, telling him it was just unexpected before giving him the answer to his question. You almost didn't notice how his lips formed an "o", silently picturing your response in his mind.

This day was just like any other for you two, honestly. "You've been thinking about kissing, Yuji?" you ask him nonchalantly. You found it always went down better if you acted like it was no big deal.

"I guess," he mumbled, trying to busy himself with the weather app on his phone.

"Did someone try to kiss you?" you kept prying, slowly but surely getting to the root of his question.

"No!" he all but shouted and your eyes narrowed.

"Then what's up?" again, your tone was nonchalant while he was anything but. He fidgeted under your gaze, knees bouncing with anxiety while he bit down on his bottom lip.

"I guess I was just wondering what it feels like... I don't know," he says dismissively, shaking his head before putting it in his hands; effectively avoiding your gaze. "I thought you would maybe know," he tells you, his words muffled by his large palms.

"Oh sorry, I don't," you tell him, going back on your phone in silence. When he hears a video play, he takes his head from his hands, looking up at you as you giggled at your screen, already deciding to forget about what he asked. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see Yuji frowning at you - like he still has something he wants to say. You use your foot to poke his leg, leaning further back onto the end of your couch. "Spit it out Yuj," you tell him, not bothering to look up from your phone.

"Do you ever wonder what it feels like?" he asks you, his typical playful tone now painfully timid. Your eyebrows quirk, looking back up to him and noticing how nervous he looks.

"I guess sometimes," you say, biting your lip while you waited for him to continue.

"D-Did you maybe want to... I don't know...," he rambles, lifting his hand up to cover his face again. You patiently wait for him to recover himself. "You can say no," he begins, hands noticeably shaky. You sit up abruptly upon noticing his hands quiver - scooching over to be closer to him. He looks up, a little shocked seeing you so close to him and his throat bobs from swallowing harshly. "Do you maybe want to kiss me? Just to know what it feels like," he spits out, saying it so fast you could hardly catch his question but you do. Your lips part in surprise.

Was it a bit of an odd suggestion from your best friend? Sure, yeah. But was Yuji an odd guy? Absolutely. Your best friend was a fanatic for all things weird - you had known this your whole life. Hell, you sat right next to him while he watched his obscure, gory horror movies that made your stomach church. All though he assured you that you didn't have to watch them with him, Yuji was your best friend. Anything he was interested - anything that he wanted to do, you were down. So was it odd to kiss your best friend? Most would say yes. But Yuji and you weren't most people, that's why you two were so good together. You 'matched each other's freak', for lack of a better term.

Despite the fact neither of you had kissed anyone, the two of you got the hang of it fairly quickly. It started with a few pecks; you leaned even closer to your best friend, eyes watching as his lips twitched in anticipation. "Let me know if you want me to stop, Yuj," you told him before closing the gap between you two. His lips were soft against yours and smooth as butter. You planted a few light kisses, pulling away to check in with him. His face was flushed and you looked just a few inches down to see how strong his hand gripped the couch's arm behind him, causing his muscles to flex - showing off his toned forearm and bicep he earned from his years of hard work in the various sports he played. "Was that ok?" you inquire, ghosting over his lips. He nodded desperately, adjusting himself to fully face you before dragging you onto his lap and smashing his lips into yours.

You didn't have time to be taken aback, too distracted with abrupt change in pace as his lips smushed against yours. He groaned, snaking his hands around your back and pulling you flush against him, deepening the kiss. He could feel your squishy breasts push against his hard chest and his head began to spin. Your scent was permeating in his space, clogging his senses. He was entranced by the foreign feeling of another mouth on his, causing him to not think clearly. At least that's what he told himself as his lips moved against yours. He wasn't himself. That's why he was so desperate. That's why his tongue licked along the seam of your mouth, silently asking you to part your lips so he could slip it in.

That's why when you opened up for him he couldn't help bucking his hips up into you. He had to fight back an embarrassed whine from the realization he was humping his best friend - all because she let him explore her mouth. You sat on his lap patiently though, allowing Yuji to use your unsuspecting lips to know what it feels like to kiss.

His hands rose from your hips, sliding up to feel more of your body as he kept unknowingly thrusting himself up against you - too lost from the feeling of your tongue wrestling his. Even his tongue was stronger than you - you were unable to fight for control over your own mouth as his unskilled tongue explored yours. His hands stopped just below your breast, using his thumbs to subtly massage the underside of your tits. You were completely pliant under his grasp, allowing your friend to explore and hump you while you took what he gave you. It was completely new to you - what he was doing with his body to yours - but you'd be a liar if you told him you wanted him to stop. It was overwhelming and confusing but you would be the last person to put an end to what was happening. You both were young adults and embarrassingly inexperienced. Even though the awkwardness between you two for the rest of the day would be palpable; you two were too excited to finally get in on what every one else your age had already long since experienced. It didn't hurt you both found each other attractive...

The longer you found your tongue tangled up with his - the more handsy Yuji got. He wasn't only experiencing his first kiss - but many firsts. Like his first time touching a woman's breasts; feeling the weight of yours heavy in his hands as he kneaded and squished the supple skin. Since you two were just relaxing at home you didn't bother to wear a bra - something Yuji was grateful for as he reached under your shirt, his thumbs grazing your hardened nipples. He experienced making a woman moan for the first time - his attentive hands on your sensitive chest coupled with the feeling of his hard on barely confined under his loose sweatpants brushing against your center caused you to whimper - a sound Yuji could never forget even if he tried.

Your lips finally detached at the sound of your muffled moan - spit trailing from both of your mouths as you two pulled back. Both of you were out of breath, still holding onto one another while you struggled to fill your lungs up with air. "We should probably stop there," you suggested, all though the tone you used suggested otherwise.

"Yeah, probably," Yuji says unconvinced, his covered length beneath you twitches while you two only watch each other - eager to see what the other's next move might be. His hands are still on your chest - just beneath the underside of your breast and he fights to keep his hands from squeezing you one last time.

"Okay," you say, still perched in his lap.

"Okay," he responds, still holding your breasts.

You can only watch him as he watches you - both fighting against the realization that what was happening needed to come to an end. "How about just one more kiss?" he suggests and you nod, moving in to peck his lips; taking your time before pulling back to face him again.

"One more," you find yourself saying, again kissing him before pulling away. You both stare at each other - faces painted with pain trying to fight against what you both wanted but shouldn't be doing.

"We don't have to stop...." Yuji finally suggests, eyebrows scrunching nervously waiting for your response.

"Yeah... that works..." is all you say.

should i make a part 2? idk if i liked this....

[thekinslayed]

Lay Your Claim

summary | When rumors questioning his wife's fidelity reach the king's ears, Aemond seeks out answers in his own ways.

pairing | king!aemond targaryen x wife!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI!, oral (f), rumored infidelity, exhibitionism, forced voyeurism, jealous and possessive king aemond 🫦, porn w little plot

wordcount | 2.1k

note | this is in the same realm as The Way to a Man's Heart but can still be read as a standalone :) next part will be a backstory for context.... maybe

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

“...and some sprouting qualms over the Reach over farmland disputes, but I have good faith in the Tyrells to see the problem squandered before the need for the crown’s intervention…”

The late afternoon sun beamed warmly in soft rays into the small council chamber. The young king leaned against his spacious chair, rolling the green marble around in its plate as his men droned about the most minute details unworthy of his attention. Being king meant putting out small fires before extinguishing larger ones, done with a simple word or a nod, often by a wave of his hand. 

“Whatever you deem a suitable course of action has my approval, Lord Hand. Just see it done, yes?” Aemond ordered, satisfied when his trusted advisor nodded at his words. The assembly soon adjourned, and the council filtered out of the chamber, leaving the king be. Though he was not alone for long, for his wife soon walked through the same doors, sworn guard in tow. Aemond beckoned you forward with a nod, good eye running down the length of your embroidered gown. He noted his gifts adorning parts of you— the rings on your fingers, the gleaming sapphire around your neck, even the Myrish lace that adorned your overskirt. 

“You called for me, my king?” you asked softly. Always so prim and proper, with your hands clasped on your front and your spine erect like a doll on strings while stood a respectful distance from your husband.

“I did, wife. Some whispers have reached my ears, regarding an occurrence between you and one of your ladies. The Lady Wylde, I heard,” he spoke, observing as you started to fidget, bright eyes trailing away from his sight. “Do these whispers bear any truth?” 

It was silent as Aemond waited for you to speak, as calmly as his meager patience would allow him. “They do, my king. She… The lady said some things that threatened to taint my good name,” you said, head slightly bowed in shame. His face remained stoic, not betraying the sliver of surprise at your easy admittance. Perhaps he would get his answers quicker than he intended.

“I am curious to know what brought this on… if you would indulge me,” he urged, shifting to sit taller while his elbows leaned onto the table’s edge. Aemond noted the slightest flicker of your eyes towards him, before returning to your feet once more. 

“I-I do not wish to trouble my king with trivial nonsense whispered between women.”

“They are serious enough if it moved you to strike her across the cheek,” Aemond pressed before you could wave him off. In the corner of his lone eye, he observed your sworn shield. A knight from your region, sworn into the Kingsguard as part of your lord father’s negotiations for your hand. He didn’t think much of it then, but the growing whispers around court about the kinship between his queen and her knight were starting to unnerve him, like an incessant ticking in his ear. 

He won’t pry for now. Not directly at least, not while your knight stood tall by the chamber’s doors, eyes cast somewhere in the distance and avoiding his sharp stare. Still, the king would get his answers in some shape or form. 

“It is no matter now, but I fear my emotions got out of hand and I acted out of turn by striking her. ‘Twas a shameful act for a queen, I am sorry,” you expressed, slightly pouting. Your honesty seemed to be sincere enough, eyes bright as you raised your head to look directly at him. 

“What do you apologize for? The lady displeased you, did she not?” he questioned, brow raised in perplexed interest. Aemond would admit though the rumors seemed rather farfetched in his imagination, though the probability of its actuality not so much. It was not as though you were in his bed every night, nor him in yours. Despite the barriers that had been toppled in the course of your marriage, Aemond had never been one to adept in proximity. His expertise lay in keeping people within an arm’s reach, even in his marriage. Yet you never complained, and he presumed you were happy enough. Perhaps that happiness had been earned elsewhere, and the thought of it made his chest thump with an ugly heat. 

“W-well, yes, but House Wylde is a trusted ally of the crown. I understand our need for their support and their lord’s wisdom on your council. I fear that I may have tainted that pact with my actions–” 

Your words were cut short by a raise of his hand, flush lips clamping shut. The king could smirk at how obedient his sweet wife was, a dutiful little thing that never wished to displease him. It was a funny thought to imagine you capable of seeking a lover, in all your sheltered upbringing and devout faith, though it was too soon to dismiss such a thought. “No lord on my council comes before their queen. You have no need to fret over this, wife. In truth, I am pleased,” he said, smiling crookedly as confusion painted your handsome features. 

“You are?”

“Yes. I have hoped for you to find your voice— as sovereign, as my queen, and it seems you are growing the courage.”

Hearing his words made your face brighten in surprise, before warming to a timid flush at his praise. He raised his hand to reach for you, beckoning you closer. Taking short steps forward, your ringed hand fit smaller in his broader palm when you placed it in his hold. His grip was firm, though not overbearing, as was his other hand that gripped your waist to pull you closer.

“You would tell me if there are any secrets you hold that could harm the crown and its reputation, yes?” he asked, soft tone bearing a sharp edge that noted his warning. The implications of his words were evident in the way you obediently nodded, visibly gulping in his tight hold. He knew his wife was smart enough to not consider him a fool.

“Of course, husband. There is naught I wish to do that would be an insult to my king, I promise you this,” you uttered, sealing your vow with a kiss on his ring. Aemond leaned back with a pleased sigh, sneaking a glance toward the door where your knight still stood. He bit back the mischievous smirk that threatened to lift his slim cheeks, fingers thrumming on his thigh. 

“Good. Sit.” Your husband nodded towards the table’s edge. Your mouth opened to voice your confusion his intent, but the stern look in his eye left no room for question. You slid through the space between his legs and the wood, tucking your skirts beneath your bottom as you perched on the grand oak. Aemond hummed in satisfaction at your pliancy. Very obedient indeed. 

“What are you…” you started, interrupted by the king finding the hem of your skirt and lifting it to your hips. Panicked, you clamped a hand down to save yourself some decency. A moot attempt, for his grip was stronger than yours, and he had already exposed your smallclothes to his eye. “Aemond!”

“I wish to please my queen as she has pleased me. Think of it as a present of sorts,” he said, smiling casually as though his calloused palms weren’t caressing the exposed flesh above your stockings. His amusement only heightened at the flush starting to color his queen’s cheeks as you stammered.

“You are most gracious, my king, b-but here?” you questioned, head quickly turning to look at the two knights standing by the doors. Both your sworn shields were adept in playing invisible, expert in finding something else to cast their eyes upon unless they were needed. They would not react to whatever the king did with his wife in their privacy, even if he took her right before them. 

“I do not see a problem why not,” Aemond shrugged. You started to voice another attempt of reason, but he had already made quick work of loosening the ribbons holding your smallclothes together. The king was efficient in all things, wasting no time to dive head first into your lovely cunt.

With every sigh he coaxed from your lips, the more your resolve started to crumble, and the more it spurred him on. Mewling, your dainty hand grabbed his silver tresses, pulling on his roots to urge him away. Your husband lifted his head to look at you, with your breasts pushed flush against your neckline as you heaved, and eyes starting to grow glazed with desire. “What is it? Do you want me to stop?” he asked, tilting his head in teasing.

Your teeth caught your plump lower lip as you bit them in thought. Your hold was tight on his mane, a grounding pressure that kept him from devouring you the way he wanted. Wordlessly, you pushed him back between your thighs, giving him full reign to do with you as he wished. 

Saccharine essence started to coat his tastebuds, your flower nice and warm against his tongue. The extent of your experiences in the ways of the flesh as man and wife was limited, he’ll admit, seldom venturing past the goal of planting his seed in your womb by the end of it. The king’s wife was virtuous and proper, unfamiliar with seeking her own pleasure when she was so deserving of it. Aemond had started to give you a taste for it, on the nights when his blood ran hotter for you and he let himself indulge in all that you would give him. Those evenings would end with them slick in sweat and rightfully flushed, and you would always turn so timid as he cleaned you up, right before he returned to his chambers for the night. You would never say it out loud, but he saw it in your eyes— an insatiable fire starting to be stoked.

Your voice started to grow in volume the deeper his tongue prodded into your slit, a sweet song floating through his ears and rushing straight to his cock. His thumb soon found your pearl, rubbing tight circles on your nubbin. This only served to heighten your arousal, moans now properly echoing through the vast chamber. The sound of it made him smirk triumphantly against your folds, feeding the fire that had him eating you like a man starved. Your fingers never left his hair, using it as leverage as you started to ground your hips against his face. His eye flickered to catch a peek, and he found you with your head thrown back and mouth fallen agape. 

It didn’t take long for you to start gushing out your release, nearing the point of screaming as you did so. Your voice all but shook the stone walls, reverberating through the vast chambers while you trembled underneath his hold. It was the loudest Aemond had ever heard you, even more than the night he had let you ride him in the bath. A sick pride swelled in his chest while he lapped up your sweet honey, hardened length jumping in his breeches as it demanded reprieve. 

Aemond opened his mouth as he pulled away to voice a teasing remark when you grabbed the leather of his doublet and pulled him up, smashing your lips against his in a hungered frenzy. You palmed at his bulge, rubbing him through his breeches. A knock on the council doors echoed through the room before you could start unlacing him, your sworn shield swiftly moving to open the entrance before the king could bark out in anger.

Fucker. 

Your handmaiden moved to enter, but quickly bowed her head upon seeing the compromising position she found you in. “M-my deepest apologies, Y-your Graces,” she stuttered. Aemond had opened his mouth to scold, but your hand on his chest stopped him before he could spit out his wrath for the disturbance.

“It’s alright, Ada. Was something the matter?” you said softly. Ada remained with her head bowed, shoulders slightly quivering in fear under the king’s deathly stare. 

“Her Grace wished to be notified when princess Jaehaera’s lessons finish for the day. Afternoon tea has been prepared in the gardens, as her grace requested,” she squeaked. The reminder seemed to make you remember yourself, returning to your feet and letting your skirts fall back to the floor. 

“Right. Thank you,” you sighed. The young handmaiden curtsied in haste, before scurrying off when you dismissed her. Your gaze turned back to your husband, who still had his eye narrowed somewhere by the chamber’s entrance. His attention returned as you softly caressed his clothed chest, smiling up at him sweetly. “Come join us?”

It was then that Aemond made his decision. He would let the rumors be. He had no wish to prod nor question his dear wife, but let it be known that he was never one to share, in spite of his reservedness and outwardly cold nature. His answer would come on the nights you begin to seek him out, singing your sweet song of pleasure beneath him as he spurred release after release from your sweet cunt. For now, he was pleased, smirking devilishly at the sight of your knight’s clenched jaw as he left the small council chamber with his queen’s hand nestled in his elbow.

[revelboo]

I bought this lovely keychain explicitly for my Soundwave themed Jeep at TFCon Orlando and promptly forgot all about it until now. Whoops.

Touch-Starved Headcanons

Megatron x Reader, Wheeljack x Reader, Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, and others. I just like the idea of big mechs coming undone at a little comfort.

Starscream

• Almost always the one to initiate it. Just absently scooping you up while grousing about his day and slowly feeling his tension ebb as he sits with you. And you in turn, relax into the feel of his warm hands and the gentle slide of a servo between your shoulder blades as you sleepily ask questions because you know he likes it. He’ll never admit how much he enjoys these moments, they soothe a need he can’t quite pin down. You’re not plotting against him. Not a threat. Just you and he needs this more than you know.

Megatron

• It’s been a long time since he’s let his guard down. Mostly because he knows the loyalty of his followers is a tenuous, uneasy thing. They might cheer his name to his face, but they scheme behind his back. And he can’t allow himself to really make friends with any of them. Any weakness will just be exploited. Used to hurt and betray him. You aren’t Cybertronian, though. He’s almost sure Soundwave deliberately leaves you with him, because the other mech knows how much he needs it. Slumping on his throne in those quiet moments when no prying optics are about, he cradles you against his chassis. Sometimes he tells you about Cybertron before the war, but usually he just idly holds you, his spark softening.

Wheeljack

• So busy. This mech forgets to refuel and recharge when he’s working on a new project, obsession consuming him. And he’s always working on something. It takes a bit for you to notice the pattern and realize the big guy isn’t taking care of himself. And that’s not happening. You walk across his desk to put yourself between him and whatever he’s working on, head tipped up as his vocal indicator panels flash at you in question. He might not remember himself, but a gentle request to share a meal is never refused. He carefully offers his hand and carries you to find an energon cube and something for you. Recharge is the same, a soft complaint that you’re cold and a light touch on his servos and sure, he’s picking you up to hold because he knows you like sprawling on him, soaking in his warmth. With how explosive his projects sometimes are, most Autobots avoid him. That you want to be around him? Understand that he’s lonely and needs this without making him ask? It means everything to him.

Soundwave

• What with his cassettes and his abilities, he’s never truly alone. Lonely, though? He drifts through the base, the voices of other Decepticons whispering in the back of his processor. There, but distant. But not you. He finds himself gravitating to wherever you are, the strange, chaos of your mind so fascinating. You calm whenever he picks you up, those snarled worries and fears soothed away with a touch of his servos. And his own tension drains away in turn. You give him one voice to anchor to when he’s adrift and in danger of slipping under.

Jazz

• No matter how stressed he is, he keeps that smile in place. It’s part of the mask he wears as a spy-nothing can touch him or put a dent in that perpetual good mood. Even if underneath the surface, he’s so tired of pretending. That exhaustion is always there, trying to drag him under. He can’t let that mask slip, not even around the other Autobots. They need him to be the easy, going spot of sun for the team. With you? His door wings can droop as he toys with your hair or feels your little hands cautiously exploring his much bigger servos. He doesn’t have to pretend that everything is alright. And he needs that so much his spark hurts.

Ratchet

Not much better than Wheeljack about remembering to care for himself. He’s too busy. And while he pushes himself past exhaustion, he’s more likely to take breaks if you’re about. He has no idea how long he’s been in surgery, hands a blur, but as he washes the energon off, he sees you. On the counter, back against the wall sound asleep. And then he’s picking you up, venting when you curl into him with a sleepy sound, smiling as he fusses at you. Humans need sleep. And have you eaten? He’s one to talk, but you’ve invoked caretaker mode now. You protest without any real heat and press your face against his palm and he just freezes before carrying you to his quarters to rest. Because you need him and he doesn’t want to put you back down on that cold counter as you cling to his servos. He can’t.

[amirasainz]

Hello, would it be alright if i requested an f1 x driver reader where the retired drivers like seb, kimi and jenson where they’re like grid dads for the reader

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💜

Always have her back

The paddock was unusually quiet for a Thursday, but Yn could feel the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. She kept her head low, sunglasses shielding her tired eyes from the prying lenses of photographers. The echoes of last weekend’s race still rang in her ears—screeching tires, the sudden thud, Lando’s voice crackling over the radio, “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m fine. Just unlucky, huh?”

But the media didn’t care about accidents or bad luck. They cared about headlines, and Yn had become their favourite target.

“Too emotional.”

“Not cut out for F1.”

“This is what happens when you let a woman race with the big boys.”

The words burned in her mind, each headline another jab at her confidence. She tried to shrug it off, but every question in the press conference, every snide comment from pundits, was like pouring salt into an open wound.

“Hey,” a soft voice called from behind her. She turned to see Charles, his green eyes filled with concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied, forcing a smile. “Just… long day.”

He wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push. “We’re having dinner tonight. Come with us?”

She shook her head. “Not in the mood, Charles. Sorry.”

Charles watched her walk away, jaw tightening. This wasn’t right. None of it was. Lando had defended her countless times since the crash, even standing up to reporters, but they wouldn’t let it go. And Yn, the fiery, determined driver they all admired, was beginning to crumble under the pressure.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. His finger hovered over a familiar name before pressing the call button.

“Hello?” a calm voice answered.

“Seb, I need your help.”

---

By Friday morning, the paddock was abuzz with whispers. Reporters glanced at each other in confusion as Sebastian walked through the gates, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. But it wasn’t just Seb. Kimi followed close behind, his signature stoic expression making the cameras shy away from approaching him.

“Seb! Kimi! What brings you here?” Carlos greeted them with his usual grin.

“Came to see a friend,” Seb replied simply, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Did Charles call you?” Lando asked quietly, already guessing the reason for their unexpected visit.

Seb nodded. “How bad is it?”

“She’s holding up, but barely,” Lando admitted, guilt flashing across his face. “I hate that this is happening because of me.”

“Hey,” Seb placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t your fault.”

Kimi, who had been silent, finally spoke up. “Where is she?”

“Probably in the motorhome,” Charles answered as he joined them. “She’s avoiding everyone.”

Seb nodded. “Let’s go.”

---

Yn sat in the Red Bull motorhome, staring blankly at the coffee cup in her hands. The door creaked open, and she sighed, expecting another teammate coming to check on her.

“I’m fine, Max, really—” She froze when she saw who it was.

“Seb?” she whispered, blinking in disbelief.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted with a soft smile.

Before she could say anything, Kimi stepped in behind him, nodding in acknowledgment.

“What are you—how—” she stammered, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Charles called,” Seb explained, sitting down beside her. “He was worried about you. We all are.”

Yn bit her lip, trying to hold back the emotions she had been burying all week. “I’m fine,” she insisted weakly.

“Bullshit,” Kimi said bluntly, leaning against the wall with crossed arms.

Seb chuckled softly. “He’s not wrong.”

Yn let out a shaky breath. “It’s just… they won’t stop. I’ve tried ignoring it, but it’s everywhere. They keep saying I don’t belong here.”

Seb’s face softened. “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” she whispered. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

“Yn,” Kimi’s voice cut through the room like ice. “You’re one of the best drivers here. The media are just… a bunch of idiots who don’t know shit.”

Seb nodded. “Exactly. They’re vultures. They need something to pick at, and right now, that’s you. But that doesn’t mean they’re right.”

“But what if—”

“No,” Seb interrupted gently. “No ‘what ifs.’ You belong here, Yn. You’ve worked just as hard as anyone else. Harder, even.”

Her voice trembled. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

Kimi sighed, walking over to sit across from her. “Listen, I’ve dealt with the media my whole career. They’re going to say what they want, no matter what you do. Don’t let them win.”

Seb squeezed her hand. “You have to trust yourself. We do. Lando does. Every driver here knows you deserve that seat.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Kimi’s eyes hardened. “Then we’ll make them stop.”

---

The press conference room was packed on Saturday morning. The usual questions about strategy and car performance were quickly overshadowed when Kimi was handed a microphone.

“Kimi, it’s surprising to see you here this weekend. Any particular reason?”

Kimi leaned forward, expression unreadable. “Yeah. Here for Yn.”

The room went silent. The reporter cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. There’s been a lot of discussion about her performance—”

“Discussion?” Kimi interrupted with a dry chuckle. “More like harassment.”

Another reporter chimed in, “Many believe that after last weekend’s collision, she—”

“Did her best,” Kimi shot back, eyes narrowing. “It was an accident. Happens to everyone.”

“But don’t you think—”

“No,” Kimi interrupted sharply. “I don’t think. I know. She’s a damn good driver. Better than half of you could ever dream of being.”

Seb, seated beside him, nodded in agreement. “You keep talking about her emotions, her being ‘too soft.’ Funny. She’s stronger than any of you. She’s here, facing all this crap, and still getting in that car every weekend.”

Kimi, never one to mince words, leaned closer to the microphone. “You’re all a bunch of cunts who can’t leave an innocent girl alone.”

The room gasped, whispers erupting across the room. But Kimi wasn’t finished.

“She didn’t do anything wrong. You did. So maybe, shut up and let her race.”

Seb, smirking, added, “Well said.”

---

Back at the Red Bull garage, Yn sat glued to the screen, tears streaming down her face. Charles, Lando, and Max sat beside her, all smiling softly.

“You see that?” Lando whispered. “They’ve got your back. We all do.”

Yn wiped her eyes, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah. I see that.”

Seb and Kimi returned shortly after, both looking smug.

“Feel better?” Seb asked.

Yn laughed through her tears. “A little. Kimi, you were a legend.”

“Counts,” Kimi corrected dryly.

Yn’s eyes widened. “You did not!”

Kimi shrugged. “They deserved it.”

Seb grinned. “Now, let’s get you back on track, yeah?”

Yn nodded, determination finally returning to her eyes. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

---

Race day arrived, and as Yn stepped into her car, the weight of the week’s pressure felt a little lighter. Because now, she knew—no matter what the media said, she wasn’t alone.

[maxlarens]

Driver!reader and oscar starting the race from p1&p2 and before they put their helmets and stuff they kiss one last time on the grid and people go like "awwwww" because it was somehow filmed

i feel like u sent this in to be like a concept or something but I HAD to write it. i’ve been writing for lando so much lately i’ve very much been missing oscar + driver!reader. plus i’ve not ever written them in an established relationship before!

It’s not like you and Oscar are a secret.

It might have been easier that way, to keep your relationship from the public’s prying eyes, but it’s not really your style. It’s not Oscar’s either.

Being public comes with its problems— questions from the media, awkward interviews, your respective PR teams going a little buck wild, extra contracts and NDAs to sign— but it also has its benefits.

You like be able to talk about him, like being able to call him your boyfriend. ‘Oscar Piastri, the driver for McLaren? Yeah, that’s my boyfriend’. You like hearing him say things about you, praise your driving skills, talk about you as a rival and as his girlfriend. It’s all you can do to stop grinning like a madwoman whenever you’re in his vicinity. You equally like that the press can’t comment meaningfully on it, can’t speculate wildly about the nature of your relationship when you’ve made it clear.

Some people hate it. They think you’re a silly little girl with her head full of romantic notions. No room for skill, for ruthlessness. Which is funny, given that Oscar receives only praise for “bagging you”. You think they’re just jealous; if not of the fact that Oscar’s dating you and not them, then of your duality. The way you can love Oscar wholeheartedly and also race Oscar wholeheartedly.

They’re not mutually exclusive in your experience.

Naturally, there’s a massive buzz about you and Oscar being P1-P2 on the starting grid.

You’re not particularly surprised. The MCL’s had been performing well all through practice, just as you and Lewis had. You pull out pole in quail, fastest Q1 and Q2, with Oscar hot on your tail. There’s a barrage of bizarre questions in the media pen,

Do you think Oscar’s grid position will impact your performance during the race? Why would it?

Will this affect your relationship with Oscar? No.

What happens if one of you wins and the other doesn’t? The same thing that happens every time anyone wins ever?

You’re confused by it. Bordering on snarky and sarcastic the fifth time someone asks if you and Oscar might break up over this. Rolling your eyes, thinking your true feelings are obvious, you tell some Italian journalist that yeah no we might break up if he doesn’t let me win.

It’s funny, objectively it’s hilarious. You and Oscar laugh over it later that afternoon. Send the clip to a group chat you’re in with a few drivers closer to your age. And so what if it’s still funny when clickbait articles and gossip sites start saying that the two of you have broken up.

There’s even more buzz about it by the morning of the race. Journalists you’ve already talked to have suddenly become convinced that you and Oscar are on the rocks. You can’t help but play into it a bit— partially for the benefit of your PR team— arriving separately, forgoing the couple snap that you usually grace Kym Illman with, giving vague no-comment answers when the media accost you.

Maybe it’s a little childish, a little dramatic. But it serves them right for jumping to conclusions.

You avoid any presenters on the grid walk, sinking into the protective circle made by your engineers. Staying behind the roped off areas until about 10 minutes to race start when you finally hop over the MCL in P2.

Oscar’s drinking water, looking smug when you push through McLaren engineers, so used to your continued presence that they let you in with ease.

“Hey,” you greet, reaching out to smooth the collar of his fireproofs, “How’s it goin’?”

“Mm,” he hums, cutting a glance behind you, which you take to mean that there are cameras trained on the two of you, a reporter trying to get your attention maybe, “I’d be better if I was on pole.”

You hiss mockingly, “Yeah, too bad. You gonna break up with me about it?”

He raises an eyebrow, lashes brushing his cheekbones as he looks down at you, “I didn’t know you read F1 gossip sites?”

You shrug in response, “Don’t need to. The media make enough noise about it.”

He hums again, smile pulling at his mouth while someone from Mercedes shouts at you to get back. Rachel probably. You should go, you really should. But Oscar’s so close and so cute in those black fireproofs.

“Good luck,” you say,

leaning forward to kiss him, hand on the back of his head. A slip of tongue, not so much to be publicly obscene, but enough to leave him wanting,

“You’ll need it.”

You hear the sweet sound of him laughing as you slip away, back to where your car is sitting on pole. Ignoring the reporter dogging at your heels for a comment you don’t really need to give.

like maybe unrealistic. who cares!

[spaghettiposts]

Window Crashin’

WandaNat x Spidey!Reader

Summery: Crashing into the wrong window at night proves to be the best mistake you’ve ever made.

Warnings: Very OBLIVIOUS reader, straight up stupid I can’t lie. Gay panics all around. Fluff

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: my first time officially writing for Nat and I think I’d like to continue so expect separate fics of her sometime soon.

Kraven had become an incessant thorn in your side, his relentless rampage ever since he announced “The Grand Hunt” in the heart of Central Park felt like a never-ending nightmare. One that persistently dragged on as the weeks floated by, each day a new form of tinnitus growing in your eardrums at the echoings of his horn. Falling once again into his endless game of cat and mouse.

Or in your case Kraven and Spider–with Kraven playing predator and you, the elusive Spider, trying to lure him away from innocent civilians roaming the streets of New York. 

Which wasn’t as easy as one would imagine, but you made do with what you had, brains over brawns. Clinging onto the hope that eventually, Kraven would grow tired of chasing and resign for the night, with the promise that he’d return. And so the cycle goes on. 

There were other options you could resort to, but those were last resorts, ones you only used if you were certain you couldn’t handle Kraven or in case of an emergency. In all honesty, you’re avoiding involving the Avengers, it’s really the last thing you want this to come to. A couple of broken ribs wasn’t an Avengers level threat.

You could handle Kraven by yourself perfectly fine, and nobody got hurt at the end of the day—except mainly your sleep schedule.

And now, as you swung through the thick chilling air on route to the compound; you were struggling to stay awake, the bruises littered across your body only making it harder to keep swinging. It wasn’t that sleep had ever been your strong suit, but now, it seemed like a distant luxury. The sacrifice of a hero came in many forms, and sleep deprivation was yours. 

Tony had sacrificed half his company in pursuit of a heroic lifestyle, hell, even Steve froze himself to save humanity. If humanity needed you to suffer from fewer hours in bed, then so be it. 

You fought relentlessly to keep your eyes from drooping and it only took the honking of a truck for you to jolt awake, merely missing out on the experience of being rammed by one. 

Shaking your head, you muttered words of encouragement to yourself, living on a prayer of making it back to the compound - in one piece. 

As the familiar building came into view, you let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you swung around towards the left block and homed in on your window, only to face-plant straight into it with a resounding thud.

You groaned against the pavement, pressing your hands on the wall to steady yourself before you could slide off. Silently thanking that radioactive spider for granting you the ability to stick to surfaces as you adjusted yourself, what the fuck?

A miscalculation on your part—or at least you pictured. Pushing yourself back from the wall, your eyebrows crinkled. Huh.

You always left your window open–had one of your teammates closed it off?

Assuming one of the guys must’ve closed it off, you didn’t question much, missing your bed and running on pure exhaustion to really assess the situation seriously. Gripping the sides of the window, you tried to pry from the outside, and after a couple of difficulties; you managed to unlock it, budging it open with a click. 

Finally, home sweet home. 

Your body toppled into the room first before the rest of your body crashed onto the floor, reaching an arm to shut the window behind you. With a sigh of relief, you picked yourself up, stretching your arms above your head, eliciting a satisfying ‘pop’ from your back, feeling all the pent-up tensions of the day leave your body. 

Pressing the button on your chest, making quick work of discarding your suit. You struggled more than you’d like to admit, having to hop on one foot to wiggle your feet out of the padding. 

Amidst your squirming, you failed to notice the crimson warps seeping from your bed, freezing mid-movement as the lights flickered on by themselves, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You screeched, scrambling up to your feet, firmly clutching your uniform in a poor attempt to cover yourself from the two women on your bed, equally startled.

“Y/n…? What are you doing here?” Natasha says after a beat of silence, her eyes furrowing as she lowers her gun and the arm protectively wrapped around her girlfriend. Wanda mirrored her actions and let the red wisps fall before she turned to you disconcertingly.

You shrunk under their gaze, feeling your heart pick up. It was too late to salvage any attempts at running for it, so you turned away, ignoring how affected you felt by their disheveled appearances.

Instead, you focused on why they were inside your room in the first place. Not that you minded having two beautiful women in your bed but at this hour? 

“What are you doing in my room? I just got back, what’s…” Your voice trailed off, slipping on your suit, as you looked towards your dresser…was it always that color? And why was there a photo of Wanda and Natasha on your nightstand? Sure, you were hopelessly in love with the two but never to this extent.

Barely bordering on those lines. 

“Detka…this is our room,” Wanda said slowly, as to not startle you. 

You cursed under your breath, realizing your mistake. “Aw fuck, I must’ve crashed into the wrong—wall-side thing,” you explained messily, picking yourself up for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

“Crashed?” Both of the girls shouted and you winced, scooting off awkwardly to the side, feeling even more like an intrusion. 

“Yeah but it’s okay though, that’s nothing compared to Kraven's fists, trust me.” You meant to reassure them, but judging by the worried looks they exchanged, it had the opposite effect. Taking their silence as an opportunity to leave, you stepped back.

“Anyways, sorry for interrupting your night.” You mumbled apologetically, reaching for the window handle. “I’ll see y'all tomorrow— son of a bitch.” You grunted, banging your head against the glass for the second time this night. You were really starting to resent these things.  

And Wanda bit her bottom lip, “Malysh, it’s late and you’re…not doing well, why don’t you stay here tonight?” She suggested softly, her voice coming out as sweet as honey and you almost dropped dead there.

“Here?” You blurted out, feeling a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. “Like, with you and Nat?”

Natasha and Wanda shared an amused look, before nodding in unison. 

Your face crinkled, not really understanding what the looks were for but you assumed it was all in your head. Sparing one last glance at the two, you confirmed this was okay, searching for even the smallest bits of hesitancy or discomfort only to find nothing but welcoming smiles. 

With a small nod, barely audible, you murmured a hesitant “alright,” as you settled into the chair beside their bed, placing your feet on the small wooly ottoman.

Had your eyes been open, you might’ve noticed the way their faces dropped in disappointment. After months of obvious pining, not-so-subtle flirting thrown your way, you were choosing to sleep…not with them but on a chair.

A brief silence lingered, and you shifted in your seat. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel their eyes piercing and you were starting to sweat.

“Sorry,” You mumble, heat rising up your neck in embarrassment as you removed your feet off the ottoman, fearing you had overstepped. Still, their gazes remained unwavering and you rubbed your arm unsurely, “Is the chair off–limits too? I can take the floor if that’s better.”

“Dorogoy, we’re inviting you into our bed,” Natasha chuckles disbelievingly, fingers tracing the covers as to tempt you with the invitation. 

“Mhmm, yeah no. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You shook your head, stumbling over your words. “I don’t do well in confined spaces with pretty women, I mean— no wait you are, both are super pretty but that’s not—“ 

Thankfully, Wanda interjected before you could embarrass yourself further with a giggle. You swore your stomach flipped. “Cute, but won’t you get cold?” She suggested, Natasha nodding and lifting the covers, adding, “It’s much warmer over here.”

Again, you waved them off and they were starting to get fed up with your excuses. “Oh nah! My suit has thermal heating installed, pretty cool right? Tony helped me insulate it–”

“Y/n, just get in the bed.”

Before you could protest further, you felt those warm red tendrils wrap around you, coaxing you into their bed, and you couldn’t even remember why you were fighting this in the first place when their arms wrapped around you. Not when their sheets were so warm, and their bodies warmer. 

Resistance be damned, as Natasha's hand ran gently through your hair, you relaxed into it, and both girls smiled. This was how things needed to be, always. 

Still, your heart was beyond nervous to even enjoy the moment but they were pushing at your shoulders to tuck you in further, getting settled themselves. They tangled their limbs with your own and it was official; there was definitely no escaping this. 

Pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, Wanda murmured a couple of words and you felt more comfortable clothes encase you. Natasha pressed a tender kiss to the shell of your ear before bidding you a good night.

You repeat her words back and they tighten their grip, closing their eyes. 

With exhaustion finally catching up to you, your eyes drooped helplessly again, fluttering shut, bones begging for sleep, and you finally surrendered to its embrace. Allowing yourself a moment of rest with the two people you treasure most in the world. 

And suddenly, crashing into windows didn’t seem so bad after all.

[willowser]

i love the idea of there being this big huge secrecy regarding you and bakugou's relationship for years, like it's not something he ever officially confirms or denies. the few times you've been spotted out in public aren't intimate enough to prove anything, and every single time he's asked about you, he's either walked away from the question or demanded a new one (in those forced interviews he begrudgingly gives in to).

he's so incredibly private about his personal life and he wants to keep it separate from his career, works very hard to, though it does nothing to quell the prying—especially after pictures surface of you out and about, obviously pregnant.

nobody says anything, not even his friends (and the media tries them, too), and despite continuous efforts, mum's the word. you'd never know, if not for the here-and-there articles that come out speculating about his family, his private life.

but the internet goes absolutely berserk after he agrees to some magazine spread—a men's health issue, about workouts and how many meals he's eating a day and how it all affects his quirk—and this comes out:

what's one cheat food you just can't seem to avoid?

the pro-hero has to think for a moment, because he doesn't look like the type of guy that even knows the meaning of 'cheat food': "these little cinnamon cookies my son eats," he says casually, with a shake of his head. "i'm always sharing that **** with him."