#and the realization kinda hit me and i was like 'oh NO' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madebycloud · 6 hours ago

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violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: on valentine's day, and you've finally worked up the courage to write a letter to your crush confessing your feelings. unfortunately, your friend accidentally gives the letter to the one person you can't stand. warnings/themes: fluff, one sided enemies, valentines, kissing cam, angry confessions, fast burn ig, mordern au words: 10.9k

You look at the letter in your desk, which you spent at least six hours working on to make sure it's perfect. Not just to make sure the words you're choosing are perfect, though—you want to make sure your handwriting is perfect enough that it doesn't look sloppy.

You grab the letter and read it over one last time… lovey-dovey bullshit, sappy stuff, romantic nonsense, etc.

You cringe at the last words, “Meet me at the bleachers... recess.”

It's so cliché, so stereotypical, and maybe you've had a couple too many cheesy romance movies in the past month. You've probably read a dozen fanfics that start like this.

If it were done by anyone other than yourself, you'd think it was absolutely dumb and corny as hell.

You know you could just message them through snapchat or on insta, or facebook, even just confessing through their email is a good idea… but, no, you just can't do that.

What if you say the wrong thing? what if you just happen to say something extremely cringy in your message? what if they screenshot it and put it on their story for everyone to see? what if they reply with “who is this...?” what if they start ignoring you?

Plus, you love your phone too damn much, and you know you're gonna end up throwing the damn thing because of the absolute panic you're gonna feel when your finger hits that send button.

You probably should have just sent a carrier pigeon or something… at least they could eat that.

Oh wait.

You forgot one thing.

You look around your room, trying to figure out what you left out. Your penmanship is on point, the words are as romantic as they could be, and the grammar is perfect... but what's missing?

The perfume.

The bottle of perfume is on your dresser, hiding behind the jewelry case. You spray it liberally, making sure the paper absorbs the smell of it, before finally folding it up neatly and placing it in the envelope. You seal the envelope with a kiss to the paper and hope it's the ‘special touch’ that it needs.

The smell is nice, just enough to have the paper absorbing it nicely, but not enough to be overwhelming (even if you love the perfume to death). You also want your recipient to be able to read the letter without cringing.

Okay, now it's really done. It's romantic, it smells good, and it's as perfect as you can get it.

Tomorrow's the day, and you finally feel confident. You have everything ready to go, you just have to figure out how to get your friend to deliver it to your crush's locker.

As you get ready for bed, the only thing you can't stop thinking about is how tomorrow will go.

Will they love the letter? will they finally realize the feelings you have for them and confess their own feelings? who knows?

—

“Come on,” you whine, begging Ekko for the fifth time. “Just do me this favor, please?”

Ekko just scoffs and gestures to the table. “I already told you, I have all of these-” he motions to the dozens of letters in front of him, “-that i'm supposed to deliver for girls that are crushing on Caitlyn.” He sighs. “I can't add any more to my to do list.”

“Please?” you beg, waving the envelope at him. “It's really important.”

Ekko groans and slumps forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “Why can't you just deliver it yourself?”

“It's kinda.. embarrassing… for me to deliver it myself…” You fidget awkwardly.

“Ugh.” Ekko groans again but gives in. “Fine,” he relents, sitting up straight and grabbing the letter from you.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ekko waves his hand dismissively. He stands up and stretches out, letting out a deep sigh as he does. “Just remind me what locker number it is?” he asks, shoving the letters into his bag.

“Locker number is 13 C,” you reply, watching as Ekko slings his bag over his shoulder and starts walking out of the cafeteria. “It's pretty much right next to Caitlyn's, so you won't be missing it.”

“Got it,” he says, turning around and flashing a grin at you. “See ya later.” He gives you a salute before he disappears.

Finally.

After months of keeping your feelings quiet, your secret would be revealed. You just have to hope that it doesn't blow up in your face.

—

Ekko walks down the hallway, scanning through the numbers above the lockers until he finds the one he's looking for.

Caitlyn's locker.

He scans the area for any sign of Caitlyn, and luckily for him, the coast is clear.

He pulls out the envelopes from his bag, each one slightly crinkled from being stuffed in there. He counts up the total- ten, no, twelve... wait. Fifteen? that's more than he thought, he could have sworn there were less. He dumps all the letters on top of the locker hole.

He looks down at the remaining letter in his hand. Right, that one isn't for her. He sighs and places the letter next to her locker, just like he was told to do.

He gives the locker one last look but doesn't give it a second thought and starts walking away, whistling as he goes.

But... what Ekko didn't know is that instead of placing it into the locker next to it, he accidentally dumped it into 11C, aka, Vi's locker.

—

You wait at the entrance of your school, impatiently bouncing on your feet. Valentine's day is tomorrow, and you can't wait for your crush to read the letter you poured your heart into.

Then, you spot Ekko, and you're quick to greet him. “Hey!” You throw an arm around his shoulders. “So, did you put it in?”

He nods, gesturing to the school doors. “Yeah, I did.”

You sigh, relieved that the letter is in your crush's locker and will likely be seen by them soon. “Thanks.” You give him a squeeze on the shoulder before letting go of him. “I seriously owe you one for this.”

Ekko just brushes you off. “It's nothing.” He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets as you start walking into the courtyard. “Just doing my good deed of the day.”

“Mhm, hopefully tomorrow goes as planned,” you say, “I just hope they like it…”

—

Tomorrow finally comes, and it's the day you've been patiently waiting for. Valentine's day.

You're in your first class, waiting for your teacher to come in. You're distracted, your mind racing with thoughts about what your crush thinks of the letter.

Then, someone suddenly sits next to you, and you turn to look at-

“What the hell?” you blurt out, looking at Vi as she makes herself comfortable in the chair.

Vi smirks. “Hey,” she greets.

That smirk alone pisses you off.

You still haven't gotten over the fact that because of her, your grades had taken a nosedive. The two of you had been paired together in science class, and she'd somehow managed to blow up the experiment, all because she wasn't paying attention.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you snap, glaring at her.

She simply glances at you, then back at the desk she's sitting on. “What do you think? I'm sitting.”

The audacity?

“I know that, but why are you sitting next to me?”

“Come on, don't act like you don't know.” She throws in a wink, and your disgust quickly multiplies.

“Excuse me?” you sputter, completely caught off guard by her sudden flirtatious behavior.

“You really gonna act like you don't know?"

“No?”

She scoffs and leans towards you, smirk on her lips. “I mean,” she adds, eyeing you up and down, “I thought you'd be... happy... to see me.”

You're stunned, confused, and quite frankly, grossed out. “Happy to—WHY ON EARTH would I be happy to see you?” you spit out.

She huffs and slumps back into the chair. “Oh wow, thanks for the warm welcome.”

“Well, what did you expect? You haven't exactly been... pleasant to be around.”

She narrows her eyes and opens her mouth to reply but stops short as the teacher enters the classroom.

She finally shuts up, and you're left wondering what just happened. Why in the world is someone who is a pain in your butt cheeks suddenly flirting with you? is there something wrong with her? or has she lost her damn mind?

—

It's recess, and you're sitting on the bleachers, waiting for your crush to show up.

Your palms are sweating, you're starting to worry that your armpits are going to start smelling, you're probably going to end up throwing up on someone's shoes.

The letter was probably too much. The words were too romantic. The whole cliché “meet me at the bleachers” thing was just cringe. Who wrote that? oh right... you did.

But even if the outcome isn't what you hope for, at least you've got a good story to tell later or maybe a good reason to drown yourself in ice cream and cheesy rom-com movies.

You look around the bleachers once, twice, three times. You try to avoid glancing at your phone, but the urge to check the time only grows stronger.

It doesn't help that a couple of assholes are sitting a few feet away from you, loudly laughing at some video playing on one of their phones.

Recess is almost over, and your crush is still not here. Where the hell are they?

Maybe they could possibly be in the bathroom, having a nervous breakdown like you were? or maybe they're just taking their sweet time, making sure they're looking perfect?

Or maybe they're not coming at all.

And then you hear footsteps coming your way,

THIS IS IT.

Is your hair okay? yes. Are your teeth brushed? yes, dumbass.

You quickly wipe your sweaty palms, trying to calm your racing heart. You turn around, ready to see the face of an angel, the face of a goddamn god-

But instead you see the face of someone you'd rather shove into a brick wall.

Vi.

Why the hell is she... smiling at you?

“Damn, you look good from this angle.”

WHAT?

Why is this goddamn lesbian here with that stupid smile on her face?

“Why are you here?”

“Isn't it obvious? I'm here to see you.” She pulls out an oddly familiar envelope from her pocket and holds it in her hand, and you realize why it's so familiar.

Wait... that's your letter!

The one you wrote to your crush. The one that's meant to be in their locker, not in her damn hands.

How the hell did it end up with her?

She looks at the envelope, studying the handwriting on it, and then her eyes lock with yours again. “This is yours, right?”

Your hand quickly snatches the envelope from her hand. “How the fuck did you get that?”

Vi quickly snatches the envelope away, holding it out of your reach. “Whoa, woah, wait-”

“Give me that!” You lunge for the envelope, but she sidesteps you.

Vi laughs, holding the envelope away from you. “Isn't this for me?” She opens the envelope and throws it aside, then pulls out the letter and starts reading it aloud. “Dear... what the hell, how do you... whatever. Dear blah, blah, blah, happy valentine's da-”

“-SHUT UP!” You try to snatch the letter again.

“Hey, I'm not done reading it yet! This is my valentine's gift, after all.”

“That letter is meant for someone else!”

“Really? Then why did I find it in my locker?”

“Wait, what? You found it in—you're joking, right?”

She shakes her head, waving the letter in front of you. “Nope, I'm not joking.”

“How did you-”

“Someone put it in my locker.”

“That's impossible! I would never—I mean to you? there's no way that was meant for you.”

Vi squints at the words in the letter, then looks up at you again. “But this is definitely written in your handwriting, right?”

How did it end up in her locker? and how the hell does she even know what your handwriting looks like?

Your eyes dart from the letter in her hands to her face. Yes, it's definitely your handwriting. Yes, it's definitely the same stupid letter you wrote because you're a hopeless romantic.

“Maybe,” you grumble.

“Maybe? so it is yours?”

You avoid her gaze, avoiding her smug look.

She starts reading over the letter again, reading it aloud. “Meet me at the bleachers, how goddamn cliché-”

“STOP READING IT!”

“Damn, I didn't think you could be this corny.”

“Shut up, just-” You try to snatch the letter out of her hand once again, but she pulls her arm away.

“You wrote this much for someone?”

“Why do you care so damn much, anyway? You didn't get a valentine gift or something?” and now you're just being bitchy as well.

“What are you, ten?” she retorts.

“And what are you, an idiot?”

“I'm not an idiot, unlike you.”

“Oh, wow, are we back in sixth grade now?”

She looks down at the letter. “I'm not the one who wrote a heartfelt letter for someone who probably doesn't even like you.”

“And how the hell would you know?”

“Have you even talked to them before?” She lifts her head, her smirk coming back when you didn't answer. “Since whoever the hell you have a crush on doesn't like you-”

“They could still-”

“See, everyone has a valentine. Well, almost everyone, which means your crush probably got one too.”

“Yeah, 'cause you got that letter they were supposed to receive.”

“Maybe I was meant to have it then.”

“You're seriously that sure that the universe wants you to have this?”

“Maybe it's a sign.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Are you just dumb on purpose?”

She grins. “I'm not doing it on purpose, and maybe it's a sign that I should be your valentine, that the universe is trying to tell you something.”

You roll your eyes. “Wow, so confident. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're actually serious.”

“And what if I am serious?” You look at her blankly as she shrugs. She actually thinks she's funny. “I mean, you don't have a valentine, which does kind of suck, and I don't have one, which is by choice, by the way, so I think the universe is clearly telling us something.”

What the actual hell is wrong with her today? she didn't get enough sleep or something, and now she's acting like... like this? this is weird.

She's being weird.

“What, is the universe now trying to set us up? really? we're gonna get a movie based off this?”

“Hey, no one said this was a movie, maybe it's just a cute little high school romance,” she argues back. “Plus, you put a lot of work into this letter, and I'd hate for it to go to waste.”

“I'm not in the mood to start a cute little high school romance with you, okay?”

She heaves a dramatic sigh. “Look,” she says, holding up a hand to stop you from replying, “it's valentine's day, right? and we both don't have anyone, so it's just... for today, we can, you know... see what happens, and if it doesn't work out, then we can just leave it alone and go back the way we were.”

You blink slowly. “That sounds worse than your whole ‘the universe wants us together’ bullshit.”

“Wow, don't act like the idea of it is so awful. I mean, I'm not that bad, right?”

You're going to disagree with that with every single cell in your body, but you decide not to, instead, you just remain silent.

Vi seems to take your silence as agreement because she gives you this insufferable smirk like she just won something.

She continues. “It makes sense if you think about it. We're both single, you're already in a lovesick mood because of this,” she gestures at the letter, “so if we do, you know... we can get it out of your system, and you won't have to spend the rest of the school year pining over some person who is probably ignoring you anyway.”

Why is she making some sense? no, why is she sounding like... a good option all of a sudden?

“It's just for today,” she reminds you again. “We'll just see where it goes. Who knows, you might actually have some fun with me.”

This feels like you're cheating on your crush for even entertaining this stupid plan.

“You're basically saying that we're going to spend one day together and then you'll ditch me?” you retort.

“No, that's not what I'm saying,” she corrects you. “I'm saying we're gonna spend one day together, and if it doesn't work out, then we go our separate ways. It's just one day, it can't hurt. It won't be such a big deal.”

“I'm not going to be your one day entertainment.”

“Who said you'd be my entertainment?” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head at you. “You and I both know you have no other options. What're you gonna do instead, go home and cry over this person who doesn't even know you exist, or just spend the day wallowing in self pity while the rest of the school is celebrating love and stuff with their actual valentines?”

You wince at her harsh words because... she's got a point.

You don't have anyone to spend this day with, and the person you'd want to spend it with will probably spend it with someone else... so yeah, you have no plans, and yeah, you're probably going to just go home and wallow in self pity, wishing that today was over already.

What would happen, actually? if you go along with her stupid plan. You could finally have an escape from pining over your stupid crush who probably doesn't even notice you.

“Fine.” You snatch the letter back from her.

“Wait, what? really?” She's actually surprised. No wonder, she's the one who came up with this stupid plan in the first place.

“I am,” you say, “you don't want me to?”

She huffs out a laugh. “No, no, of course not. I just… didn't expect you to actually agree.”

“And why is that?”

“I don't know, I figured you'd still have a little bit of decency left in you.”

What a backhanded compliment. “I have plenty of decency left in me, it's you who I'd question, and besides... it's just for today.” You fold the letter and shove it into your pocket.

Vi hums, not taking that offense to your comment. “Just today,” she repeats. “Then tomorrow, boom, everything goes back to normal.”

You nod. “Back to normal.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

Whoa woah woah. Calm down. “Ew, what?”

“I didn't say I will kiss you,” she points out, “I said I could.”

You could say something mean to her words, you could try to change the subject or you could just walk away and forget this conversation ever happened.

But what you actually say is, “What's stopping you then?”

You hate how that sounds so casual. It wasn't meant to come out like that. What the hell?

You're not entirely sure, but something is definitely encouraging you to keep this going. Is it because you find everything she does annoying or that you've been pent-up over your stupid crush lately and you need to get it out of your system?

Vi raises an eyebrow at your words. “You want me to kiss you?” The words drip out of her mouth, like honey on a spoon.

“No,” you reply on instinct, because of course not.

But you can't stop the way your eyes flicker down to look at her lips. You look back at her face, and you know damn well she saw you look down at her lips, but she doesn't say anything about it.

“So now that it's official... you're my valentine, and today, we're going to have the shittiest, most awesome date-” she coughs, “-i mean hangout, that you'll ever have.”

“I doubt it.”

“Hey,” she says, “don't underestimate me, okay? I know how to have a good time,” and then she, god help you, she winks at you.

She looks like she's about to say something more, but she stops when the bell rings.

“Meet me at the parking lot after class?” she asks.

You find yourself nodding. “Yeah, sure.” You look at the field for a second and then look back, just so you can catch her reaction—and it's not at all what you were expecting. She's... blushing?

It's subtle, more subtle than you'd think, but her cheeks are definitely red, and when she realizes you notice her, she looks away.

She looks embarrassed.

She's embarrassed?

“Anyway, see you there... valentine.” She doesn't look at you. “Try not to miss me too much.”

What? miss her? She sounds like she's trying to joke about it, but something about the way she says it sounds sincere? What the fuck?

She starts to walk away. You're pretty sure you see another smile on her face, and if you didn't like her so much, you'd probably like how she looks when she does.

But you remind yourself, this is Vi.

The same Vi you've known for years, the same Vi who made your grades worse because of a stupid experiment, the same Vi who you'd probably love to throw out the nearest window if you could, and the same Vi you can't stand.

You force yourself to turn away, and you start to walk back to the school building. You try to push the image of her stupid blushing face and her stupid pretty smile out of your brain because you are not... going to make the mistake of being attracted to her.

—

Time passes by more slowly than a snail.

What's the saying...? ‘A watched pot never boils?’ You're pretty sure you could watch paint dry, and it would move at a faster pace.

Why is time passing so slowly today?

You're not sure if it's because you have this... ‘hangout’ to expect at the end of the day or if it's because you keep getting distracted by the thoughts of what is going to happen later.

What you do know is that you end up spacing out way too much more than a person should.

Thankfully, you don't have any homework, but your notes for the day are just absolutely horrible, a mindless mess of scribbles and pointless words. You're definitely going to regret this later.

The last bell mercifully rings just as you're in the middle of doodling a small sketch of Vi's face in the corner of your notes.

You quickly shut your notebook and stuffed everything into your bag.

You need to find your goddamn common sense first, but it seems to have left the room before you could.

The hallway is a goddamn mess.

Kids are running everywhere in the halls, screaming loud as hell, some girl is trying to stuff her locker to the point where it's going to explode, and some kid has got a goddamn boombox and is blasting music from it. There's the hallway drama that everyone loves listening to even though they should be minding their own business.

Seriously, it feels like you're in the middle of a goddamn jungle with the amount of people screaming.

Walking to the parking lot takes longer than it usually would. When you get there, you see a familiar head of pink hair leaning against a red motor, scrolling through something on her phone.

She hasn't noticed you yet, and you find yourself unable to move your feet for a second.

She's just leaning back against the motorcycle, lazily swiping through something on her phone. She's even biting her lower lip slightly, and for some reason, you really don't know why that's such a good look on her.

Okay, what?

You need to stop letting your brain run away with these thoughts.

You are not going to act like a middle school idiot who just got caught looking at her crush or something. You're an intelligent, mature human being. You're definitely not some dumb kid with an embarrassing crush either. Definitely not.

The sunlight makes her glow, and when she looks up from her phone, you feel you're hit with a wave of goddamn sun poisoning because the sunlight hitting her eyes makes them shine.

She looks over and sees you, shoving her phone into her pocket. She gestures you over with a slight jerk of her head.

You force your feet to start cooperating and get your ass over there.

“Glad you came.”

What kind of response would even be the right one for that? “Me too” would sound too enthusiastic. “Yep” sounds so disinterested, like you'd rather be anywhere else than here, when that might be partially true, but you're not trying to sound like a dick. “Same here” sounds like such a sarcastic tone, and “Of course I'm here, you're the one who forced me into this” would sound too rude.

Instead, you just say nothing, which she notices, of course.

“What, no smart shits today?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you mutter as you turn your attention to the red motor behind her. You notice the scuffed up leather seat and the worn tires.

You then glance around the parking lot, wondering how many times you've seen this before. The motorcyclist who's always late to class, the seniors who smoke too much and are always ditching school, the students with cars who love to show off the brand new car their parents gave them, and the popular girls gossiping about some poor girl who can't afford nice clothes.

The sound of a motorcycle engine starting snaps you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see Vi getting onto the motorcycle

She pats the back seat behind her. “You getting on or what?”

“...is it like fast?”

“Is it like fast?"” she mimics in a childish tone before rolling her eyes. “Yeah, it's fast. Get on it and find out.”

“I just asked a question, no need to be a dick.”

“Are you always this bitchy?” she asks, then throws you a helmet. “Put this on.”

You catch the helmet, and you put it on. “Only around you.” You approach the motor and try not to comment on the poor condition and instead climb on behind her.

You have no idea what to do with your legs, so for a few seconds, you just awkwardly sit behind her, trying to position yourself like riding a horse.

“Are you gonna hold on?” Vi calls out.

“Hold on to what?”

“Me, dumbass. Grab my waist.”

“Hell no.”

“It's for your own safety.”

“I'm fine,” you shift around, trying to find a comfortable position.

Vi seems to start losing her patience with you. “If you want to fall off the bike mid ride and splatter onto someone's yard like a squashed bug, be my guest.”

That gets you to hold onto her waist out of pure spite.

“Just don't squeeze my abs too tight. I still need air.”

You scoff. “Who the hell is so narcissistic that they think something as simple as that would affect me?”

She huffs, amused by your snark, and puts on her own helmet. “It's not narcissism. It's just a joke,” she retorts.

You scoff again, but your hand tightens around her waist reflexively.

She chuckles. “Knew you couldn't resist.”

You pinch her waist. “Just shut up and drive.”

She snorts. “Touchy, aren't we?”

“Yeah, I am,” you reply sarcastically, pinching her waist again.

“Hey!” she exclaims, then sighs. “Okay, fine. I'll stop, just stop it.”

She starts the motor, and the hum of the engine vibrates throughout your body. It's louder being sat on top of the thing compared to how it sounds when you're on the ground. You feel this rumble throughout your chest, and you really want to comment on the poor thing making that much noise.

“Just hold on tight.”

—

“FUCK YEAH! WOOO!” you shout, punching the air with your fist and standing up. It's hockey, but who cares? you're not a fan, not in the slightest, but you're still screaming and cheering, all in a bid to support the team.

Vi is right beside you, shouting as well, while she eats a hot dog and washes it down with soda. “I thought you hated hockey!” she shouts over the crowd's cheers.

You shrug, but it's impossible to respond. You can't hear each other over the sound of the audience's cheers.

A few of the people sitting in the same section as you give you some weird looks, like you suddenly went insane. Well, can you really blame them? it probably looks like you have the sudden urge to yell random things for no reason.

Vi is the only one who doesn't look at you like you're some lunatic, her gaze is focused on the game, all while cheering, and occasionally making comments about the players.

It's different compared to watching it on TV. You're actually there, in person, surrounded by people who share your excitement and are as loud as you or louder.

You're also next to the most annoying person ever, but you don't want to dwell on that.

You drop down, back into your seat, and lean back, stretching your legs out. Your thighs and legs are starting to feel like jelly from all that screaming and standing. “Damn,” you tell her, shaking your legs. “I think I just strained a muscle or something.”

Vi laughs and sits down on her seat. “You know, I've been around here for years now. I probably know some people here.” She glances around the crowd of people, scanning them like she's trying to find someone in particular.

“Oh yeah? who's that in the third row then?”

She follows the direction of your finger and immediately points at a random person. “That's Fred! I once went to elementary with him.”

You have no idea if she's making that up or not. “And what about the guy next to him with the big hat?”

Vi squints at the section you pointed at. “That's George.” She then points at a girl with a black jacket. “That's Sneha,” she pauses, her eyes catching someone in the distance, “and oh-” her hand abruptly changes direction, pointing forward, “-that's Jenny,” she says, waving her hand. “Yo, Jen!”

The old lady turns around and nods her greeting. “Hi sweetheart, how's it going?”

“Doing good, gramps. Just watching the game with this one.” She nudges at you.

The old lady turns to look at you, her face taking the form of a smile. “Ah, a girlfriend, I see.”

Girlfriend? What's she talking about? “Um, no. Just a friend.”

Vi's eyebrows rise as her whole mouth goes ajar. “Friend?” she repeats, “We're friends now?”

“Only for today. Don't get used to the idea.”

The old lady, Melinda, hums. “Is that so? well, enjoy the game, children.”

“Yeah, yeah, we will,” Vi responds to the old lady, and once the lady turns back to watch the game, she leans in close, bumping her shoulder into yours. “That's Jen. She's basically the team's grandma,” Vi explains. “She's been here for years, goes to almost every game.”

You watch the lady continue to watch the game. “So she's like a regular here.”

“Yeah, sometimes she talks about how things were better in ‘her day.’”

“You two seem close though,” you point out.

“She's old and friendly,” she says, scratching her cheek. “Plus, old ladies are always fond of me. I helped her one time with her groceries after one game, and now she thinks I'm a sweetheart.” Vi shrugs, taking another bite of her hotdog. “She's also a nice lady. Always has candy and stuff to give out to everyone.”

“Candy, huh?”

“Yep,” she swallows and smacks her lips to get any food out from her mouth. “She always has peppermint discs, peppermint sticks, and chocolate sticks in her bag.”

“Why do you know that?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Why does she have candy anyway?”

Vi takes another bite. “Just something she likes to give out,” she says, between chews, then points at the old lady's lap. “That blue thing she's knitting is actually a hat. She likes to give that out too.”

“Really?”

Vi shrugs again, eating yet another mouthful of her food, still somehow managing to speak at the same time. “Yeah, and don't be fooled by the knitting and the candy. She could beat you in a game of arm wrestling. She's still really buff.”

You nod silently, impressed with this old lady.

When Vi swallows the last bit of her hotdog, she pulls out her phone and points it at you. “I'm gonna take a picture of you... and put it on Tinder.” The second the camera's click sounds off, it takes everything in you to not grab her phone and throw it across the goddamn stadium.

She continues taking pictures, each time saying something different, like, “Look at this one,” or “This one's really good.” She holds up the phone, showing you a picture that's... actually not half bad. But you know giving her that reaction would just fuel her to do more, so instead, you scoff.

You turn your attention back to the stadium, trying to ignore whatever she's doing beside you. You look around. There are a surprising amount of men, guys, dudes, bros, etc. It's like they outnumber the women.

“There's a lot of dudes in here,” you comment. “Is it a testosterone fest over here, or what?”

Vi looks around as well. “Yep.”

“Do you think any of these guys like girls who love sports?”

Vi snorts. “Nah,” she replies, shoving her phone back into her pocket. “They're more interested in a girl who looks good in a jersey and knows how to bring them a cold beer.”

“So… basically they're only interested if we look cute and we don't open our mouths?”

“Pretty much.”

You groan. “I hate guys like that.”

“Hey, some guys aren't that bad,” she remarks.

“Yeah, and they're the ones in relationships.”

She thinks about it for a moment. “You know… I'm surprised you're not in a relationship.”

You give her a weird look. “Why?”

“Well, you're... y'know… cute.”

Is that a compliment or a fact? you are cute, you're aware of that, but still, it's weird how she said it and... did it look like there was a hint of something else in her tone of voice when she said that?

You force a smile, trying to brush it off. “Thanks.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, a silence you really want to fill with literally anything else than this weird awkwardness.

Just when the awkward silence couldn't possibly get more awkward, a sudden cheer from the crowd interrupts your thoughts. They're all looking up at something on top of the stadium. You furrow your brows before looking up, trying to see what it is they're looking at.

Your eyes land on the huge TV that's attached to the ceiling, and you see the words ‘KISSING CAM’ flashing in bright letters. The camera pans through the crowd, searching for a couple, and it lands on a couple who's sitting not too far from you.

“KISS! KISS! KISS!” You look over at Vi and see her cupping her hands over her mouth. She's standing up and shouting at the couple to kiss.

You watch as the girl looks up and sees the camera pointed towards her and her boyfriend. She whispers something to him, and it doesn't take a genius to know what she just said. The guy grins and leans in, giving his girlfriend a sloppy, wet kiss.

The crowd goes crazy, cheering and whistling. The couple pulls away from each other, both of them smiling.

You look at Vi again, who's still standing up. She seems to be enjoying this a lot more than you are, and you can see hearts in her eyes.

Once it seems like the camera has recorded enough footage, it moves to the next couple.

It goes to a couple sitting not too far away from you. The guy looks uncomfortable, but his girlfriend is completely eager to show some public affection. She grabs his chin and kisses him, but it’s only a quick, chaste kiss.

Vi yells out, “Come on, put some effort into it!” and then she sits down, leaning back in the chair.

The camera pans through the crowd again, skipping over several couples until finally landing on a group of guys. They look like they're having the time of their life, yelling at the camera and making rude gestures.

“Ah, boys…” an older man next to you sighs.

The camera captures the guys for a while, they're all laughing and having a good time.

The camera moves away from the group of guys and lands on Vi and a girl sitting right next to her.

Vi immediately makes some hand gestures, shaking her head and probably saying no. “We're not-” but before she can finish, the camera moves away from them, unsatisfied with this answer, and lands on the other girl sitting next to Vi.

You.

Fuck.

“KISS! KISS! KISS!” you hear someone, it sounds like the same person who cheered on the other couples.

You look over at Vi, who's watching you with this stupid smile on her face. You glare at her, she's clearly enjoying this way too much.

You lean over to her, through clenched teeth, you hiss, “This isn't funny.”

She shrugs, still smiling. “I think it is.”

“Well, I don't.”

“It's only a kiss.”

“It’s still embarrassing.”

“Oh come on, it's Valentine's Day!” she replies. “What? are you worried that you'll suck at kissing or something?”

“Excuse me? I am an excellent kisser.”

“Oh yeah?” She quirks an eyebrow. “Then why are you so worried about this? it won't be some gross open mouth kiss, it'll be just a little peck.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Because I don't want to be seen kissing in public, in front of hundreds of people,” you say, lowering your voice, “And I definitely do not want to kiss you.”

“Come on, you don't have to sound so disgusted by the idea of kissing me.”

“Because I am,” you say simply. “I don't want to kiss you anymore than you'd want to kiss me.”

“I never said I didn't want to kiss you.”

That statement takes you by surprise, you had just assumed that she would be grossed out by the thought of kissing you.

The chants start to get louder as more and more people join in. “KISS! KISS! KISS!”

You hear the same guy from before. “Kiss! c'mon! it's just a quick kiss, do it.”

You hear another girl from behind you. “Oh, come on! one little kiss! what's the big deal?”

It's no big deal.

But at the same time, you're starting to panic. You don't even know how to act right now, are you supposed to play along with this? are you supposed to ignore it? what the hell is happening?!

Your brain is starting to mush into mush because why are so many people chanting? why are they making such a big deal out of this? it's just a kiss, right? right… so why are you so nervous?

You turn your head to see Vi looking at you, her eyes staring into your soul.

“A kiss on the cheek will do,” she says aloud.

You're going to die.

Your heart is going to explode right here, in the middle of the stadium, and then your guts are going to spill out right in front of everybody.

Maybe it's best just to get this over with?

All you have to do is... just a kiss on the cheek. That's it.

You just have to get it over with before this turns into something bigger.

You're not really gonna enjoy this, you'd just get the feeling like you should have brushed your teeth harder in the morning.

Vi's not even attractive in the way that you would want to kiss her cheek, her skin probably sucks from waking up in the mornings, there's no way she remembers to wash her hair at least three times a week. What about her breath? There is no way that she actually brushes her teeth every day. Her breath probably tastes like stale cheetos and mountain dew. There is no way you're gonna get a single bit of pleasure from kissing her cheek.

But you do it anyway.

You press a kiss on her cheek, and it's... warm, and they burn under your lips. The smell of her body spray isn't overwhelming. It's subtle and pleasant. Her hair isn't as greasy as you imagined, and it feels kinda nice when your fingers brush against the side of her face. Her breath doesn't even smell like mountain dew and cheetos, it's actually minty and fresh, like she just ate a pack of gum.

You pull your face away before you let your brain get to you, but you just keep looking at her face because there is this huge grin plastered on her face that makes your heart beat faster. Her cheeks look red, and the tips of her ears are even red too.

The crowd goes nuts. You can barely hear the music or the announcers over the chanting. The kiss had lasted all but a few seconds, but the feeling on your lips linger.

You're both looking at each other like you've just seen each other for the very first time.

She's actually gorgeous.

How is it possible that you only now realized how beautiful she looks?

You look away, but even in your peripheral vision, you can see her looking at you. There's still a stupid grin on her face, and she looks happy.

She's actually happy that you kissed her on the cheek.

—

You and Vi are sitting in the parking lot after the game ends. Vi had bought some $5 pizza, but since the place is packed, you're now sitting in the parking lot with Vi's motorcycle parked behind you.

“I'm gonna be honest,” Vi starts, her face twisted up as she chews on a slice of pizza. “This is the best meal I’ve ever had.”

You hum, nodding along.

Vi takes another bite, a big one, and chews on it, her cheeks stuffed. She swallows and sighs contently. “Man, I should have bought two boxes,” she grumbles, looking down at the one last slice left in the box. Then, she looks up, straight at you, and grins. “You want the last slice?” she offers, holding up the box with the slice still left in it.

You shake your head, and she looks at you with skepticism. “Are you sure you don't want it?”

“I had three slices already, I'm fine.”

Vi looks at the slice of pizza that's still in the box, then at you. She looks like she's considering something, then shrugs and pops the slice into her mouth. “Suit yourself,” she says, the words garbled since her mouth is still full of food.

Something about this moment feels... comfortable. Strangely comfortable.

It's weird. You don't understand why you don't feel threatened or uncomfortable or annoyed or any of those things, even though she's sitting right next to you.

But, oddly enough, you feel safe.

Or maybe that's just because you can't think of anything to say.

Or maybe it's because the silence isn't awkward.

Or maybe it's because you're distracted by the way she seems to enjoy her food.

Because... it's so... weirdly satisfying, watching her chew her food, watching her swallow, watching her use the back of her hand to wipe off the sauce on her chin.

You have no idea why you're paying attention to those little details.

But... you are.

You're not sure when you started paying attention to those.

You're not sure why you feel so comfortable around her right now.

You're not sure of a lot of things, actually.

You're not sure how to feel at the moment, or when your dislike of her had dwindled down to... whatever the hell this is, to whatever this weird, unfamiliar feeling in your chest is.

You're not sure why the corners of your lips keep trying to twitch upwards every time she makes some stupid face.

You're not sure why you're fine sitting in the freezing cold of the parking lot. Not even on the motorcycle, but on the cold ass ground, just sitting behind the motor, back leaned against it.

You're just fine sitting here, and you're just fine knowing that after this, you'll have to go back home and deal with a bunch of bullshit again.

You don't get it.

What changed?

She used to get on your nerves, and you used to get on hers.

She's still the same, isn't she?

And you're still the same.

Everything, suddenly, feels... different.

The air feels different, the atmosphere feels different, the whole world feels different.

The only thing that hasn't changed is her.

Well, no, that’s a lie.

She has changed.

She feels different.

She's not the same girl you can't stand.

And you're not the same girl she can't stand.

Everything is just different.

Maybe the two of you had changed.

But you're not sure how.

You're not even sure when you started noticing it.

But those little details about her, those little behaviors and quirks and habits that you used to find irritating and annoying… they're not bothering you anymore.

She's still a pain in the ass, but she's... well, a tolerable one.

For now.

You don't understand.

Or, rather, you won't allow yourself, at least not yet.

Because you're not sure how to process everything.

And, honestly, you're afraid to even try.

You look at her, still eating on the slice of pizza, and there's a small smear of sauce on the corner of her mouth. “You've got something on your face.”

She tilts her head. “I do? Where?”

Your eyes slowly move down, from her eyes to her nose, and then... her lips. Then, you notice something... freckles. She has freckles. little ones, spread across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, and they're… really cute, really, really-

What in ever loving hell are you thinking?

“Hello? you alive over there?”

You snap out of it. You're not about to let her see you be weak just because she happens to have a pretty face. “You had something right… here,” before she can respond, you raise your hand, reaching for her cheek. You wipe the sauce off the corner of her mouth with your thumb. Your thumb accidentally brushes against her lower lip, and something in your chest twitches.

Vi freezes, her eyes widening as you touch her lips.

Everything feels... slower.

You can hear the sound of her breathing as she exhales, how it hitches when you brush your thumb along her lower lip.

You don't know how, or when, but you find yourself leaning closer to her, your hand still cupped on her cheek.

Her gaze flicks to your lips, her own parting slightly.

...

Holy shit.

You snatch your hand away, realizing what you just did.

Damn it, what the fuck?

You quickly stand up, trying to regain your composure. “I-” Your voice comes out as a croak. You clear your throat, trying to sound normal. “I should... get home. I think it's getting late.”

Vi is still sitting on the ground, and then she shakes her head, as if waking herself up. “...right. Yeah, it is getting late.” She slowly stands up.

“I... umm…” you start awkwardly. “I should-”

“I'll... drive you home,” she interrupts whatever you were about to say.

Your head snaps up, surprised by the offer. “What? You don't have to-”

“I want to.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, so you shut your mouth. You don't want to prolong this weird, confusing moment anyway.

—

Vi's motorcycle comes to a stop in front of your house. The engine making that clunky, sputtering sound before it finally dies.

“We're here,” you say, trying to break the awkward silence that has been between the two of you since you got on the motorcycle.

You manage to finally slide off the motorcycle, but unfortunately, you're still attached to the helmet. You attempt to unbuckle the chin strap, but the damn thing seems to be glued to your head.

“Ugh, this piece of crap,” you mutter, struggling with it.

“Here, let me-” she cuts in, reaching for the straps.

“No, I got it,” you insist.

“I know you can, but let me.”

You glare at her, feeling stubborn, but it's not like you're getting anywhere. “Fine.” You let your hands fall to your sides as she reaches for the straps.

She unbuckles it with ease, finally freeing your head from its confines.

You take the helmet off and give it to her, trying to not make eye contact. “Thanks.”

There's a moment of what could be an awkward silence before you both speak at the same time.

“So-”

“I-”

You cough awkwardly. “Go ahead.”

“No, you can speak first-”

“No, no, I insist. Go ahead-”

“I'm fine-”

“Stop being stubborn-”

“Says you-”

“Yeah, I am stubborn-"

“Shut up-”

“Make me-”

What did she say? Was that... an invitation?

“Are you challenging me-”

She snorts. “Pfft, no, that-”

“Then why would you say something like that?”

“I don't know, thought it'd be funny.”

“It wasn't.”

“It was a little funny.”

“No, it wasn't,” you scoff. “Whatever. You were saying?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies, shifting on the motorcycle. “I just wanted to say…” Her gaze shifts from you to the side, then back to you. “I just wanted to... say that I had... fun today. Yeah…” She shrugs. “What about you? what were you sayin'?”

Huh. “I guess it wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

“Wow,” she says, deadpan. “So glad you're not completely miserable being around me.”

“Don't get your hopes up too high, it's just for today, remember?” you remind her.

“Yeah, I remember, I'm not an idiot.”

“Could have fooled me,” you retort, and a smirk makes its way to your face.

“Watch it,” she warns, the corners of her mouth curving upwards. “I'm only tolerating you today.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you quip back.

The two of you share a look and then start laughing. You're glad she's starting to loosen up a little.

“Alright alright, truce?” She holds out her fist.

You roll your eyes but bump your fist with hers anyway. “Truce.”

There's another silence, but it doesn't feel... awkward like the last ones.

Then, she speaks up, “Well... I guess I should go.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “I guess you should.”

“See you at school, then?”

“Unfortunately,” you grumble. You take a step back, getting ready to turn around and head to the front door.

“Hey,” she suddenly says.

You glance back at her, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Can I…” she starts, then hesitates, “...can I ask you something?”

You shrug. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Just... promise me you won't be mad,” she hedges, not quite looking at you directly.

“I'm not promising anything-”

“Just... humor me.”

“Fine. I promise I won't get mad.”

She takes a deep breath. “Do... do you… do you actually hate me?” You're silent for a moment, trying to find the words, but she starts backpedaling. “Ugh, never mind, I shouldn't have asked, forget it, it doesn't matter-”

“No, no-" you interject, “I don't- I don't hate you.”

“You don't?”

“No... I don't hate you.”

“You sure?” she presses, leaning forward on the motorcycle, resting her arms on the handlebars. “Then why are you always so pissy whenever you're around me?”

“I dont-” you start, then stop. “I'm not-” you start again and stop again. “Remember that time in science lab?”

“When we lit the bunsen burner, the table caught on fire, we got three detentions, and everyone thought we were going to be expelled?” she recalls.

“Yes… that time.”

“Seriously? that was months ago.”

“I never said I was the most forgiving person.”

“It was a mistake,” she points out. “I didn't mean to do it, I was just being stupid.”

“It was still your fault. You didn't look at the instructions.”

“I was distracted,” she counters.

“By what, your big brain? cause you definitely weren't paying attention to the experiment instructions.”

She looks away, shifting uncomfortably on her motorcycle. “Actually, I was distracted by something…” her eyes return to yours, “-someone.”

“You're making it sound like it was a person you were crushing on or something.”

She falls silent, looking away again.

Wait.

Hold on.

What?

“Wait—wait a minute,” you demand, walking closer to her.

“What?”

“You were being distracted because you were crushing on someone during the science lab? That was the reason that whole thing happened? You couldn't keep yourself from being distracted because you were crushing on someone?”

“That's not fair to say,” she protests.

“Not fair to say?” you repeat, scoffing. “I literally got three detentions because you were more interested in staring at someone-”

“Fine! Whatever. Maybe I was distracted, maybe I wasn't paying attention-” she admits defensively “-maybe I was looking at-” she cuts herself off again. “Whatever, I'm going home.” She starts her motorcycle, not glancing at you.

“Hey-” you reach out, grabbing her arm. “Wait.”

“What do you want?”

“What was that person's name?”

“What does it matter?”

“Cause, I have a hunch.”

“Care to share this hunch with me?”

“Uh, Caitlyn Kiramman…?”

She snaps her head to you, eyes tracing up and down. “Are you actually this clueless?” she sneers, then drives away, leaving you alone on the sidewalk.

“Hey!” you shout. “Seriously, what is your problem?” you call out after her. “We were having a decent conversation, why did you-”

Suddenly, she stops, braking abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk with a quick skid. Before you can say, or think, she has her motorcycle facing you once again. She swings her leg over and hops off, walking up to you with a determined look.

“You want to know my problem?” she asks, coming closer. “I'll tell you my problem.” She grabs your shoulders, forcing you to step back. “My problem is that it's been years. Years, and you still have no idea, do you? you're still just as clueless as always.”

“What are you-” you stumble, struggling to keep your footing. Her hands are tight around your shoulders, holding you in place.

“You keep saying I'm the one who causes trouble, I'm the one who always makes your life harder-” she continues. “But you-”

You manage to find your footing and look at her face.

“-don't seem to get that you're just as guilty of making my life miserable.”

“Vi-” you start, but she doesn't let you finish.

“Every time you smile at me, every time you look at me, every time you talk to me.” She shakes you. “Every time you do something stupid, which is all the goddamn time,” she spits. “You don't seem to get that it drives me insane.” She huffs, letting go of you. “I've been right in front of you this whole damn time, and you just didn't even-”

“Didn't what?”

“You had no idea, did you? You don't understand why I’m so damn irritable whenever I'm with you, you don't get why I'm always trying to pick fights, why I can't just be civil, why I can't just be normal around you… you just think I'm a jerk!”

“Well, maybe you are. You did just grab me like a fucking maniac.”

“Oh, shut up,” Vi snaps. “Just shut up for a second.”

You shut up.

She takes a deep breath. “You think I enjoy this?” she asks, and the question sounds genuine enough that you regret the ‘maybe you are’ comment.

She scoffs. “I don't. I wish more than anything that I could just be calm and civil and… and nice around you. But instead, I'm always getting into your face, I'm always picking at you, I'm always trying to piss you off, because it's the only goddamn way I can get your attention.”

“Any time I try to be normal around you,” she continues, “I get... I get ignored. You act like I'm not even there. But the second I get in your face, the second I do something stupid or obnoxious-” she gestures at herself, “-suddenly, you're right there. You're looking right at me, you're talking to me, for once, you're actually paying attention to me-”

“Why do you even care about my attention?!” You don't mean for it to come out as angry as it does, but the pure confusion you feel causes you to raise your voice.

Vi looks away, a frown twisting her lips, before she snaps her gaze back to you. She sounds oddly embarrassed when she speaks. “Maybe because I'm completely, miserably, head over heels in love with you, okay?!”

Wait... what the actual fuck?

Vi looks away, the words leaving her in a rush. “I'm in love with you,” she repeats, quieter and slower. “There's no maybe about it. I've literally been in love with you since middle school.”

“So, instead... instead of just telling me,” you start, “you... you decided to be a jerk to me for the past six years?!”

“I was twelve!” Now her attention is fully on you as she gestures at herself. “I was a dumb kid, I didn't know what to do, but I was desperate for you to notice me. Every time I tried being nice, I got ignored, so... I guess I decided that if you weren't going to notice me in a good way, then I was just gonna piss you off and make you notice me in a bad way.”

“And then, I just kept doing it,” she continues, “because then, you would notice me, and you'd talk to me, and at least you weren't ignoring me. It became a habit. It was the same damn cycle every day. So, you know, I'm sorry if I don't suddenly know how to behave like a normal goddamn human being around you.”

She looks at you defiantly, she's expecting a fight, an argument, and the last thing she expects is for you to... laugh

You laugh. You don't laugh because you think it's funny, you laugh because you're so unbelievably shocked and overwhelmed that the only thing you can do is laugh. You try to cover it up, you try to muffle your laugh by bringing your hand to your mouth, but it's too late, you've already laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” she asks. “I'm being serious, okay? this isn't a joke, it's not some sort of prank. I am dead serious—I just confessed to you, and you start laughing? Jesus, you're actually heartless, you-”

You manage to get your laughter under control, your body still shaking with a few silent chuckles, but you manage to speak in between your breaths. “You have the worst-” and another chuckle, “-worst timing, I swear to god.”

“Oh I'm so sorry that my confession didn't please all of your fucking needs,” Vi says sarcastically, “but I've spent god knows how long in love with you, and I just had to take my shot. And what are you doing? You're laughing at me. Because your pride can't stand-”

“Would you shut up for like two seconds?!” you snap, cutting off her rant in an instant. “I'm not laughing because you confessed to me, okay?!”

“Then why are you laughing, huh? why is this so funny to you? because I don't find it very funny-”

“Because-” you sigh, and you're actually surprised by how... nervous you suddenly feel. “I never expected this, okay? I never expected you to actually... feel that type of way about me, and to top that, you're confessing to me in the stupidest way possible.”

“I didn't plan on confessing to you at all!” she protests. “It just... kind of happened. Plus, you've never been too keen on me.”

“I-” you begin because 'not keen on you' feels like an understatement. You've never liked her, or rather you've never let yourself even consider her as an option because your heart was set on one person only. “I just need some time to... process this.”

Vi scoffs, her face looking annoyed again. “You need time to process this? what's there to process? I just told you how I feel about you.”

“Yeah, well, I need to process that! Because you just dumped a lot of information on me, and right now I'm-” You pause, trying to pick just the right word. “...overwhelmed, okay?”

Vi's features soften, not quite fully, but just enough to show a little bit of sympathy. “Overwhelmed,” she repeats.

“Yeah…” you reply, “I mean... you just confessed to me, and I... I've never-” you gulp. “-I've never really thought of you... that way.”

“Never thought of me, or never let yourself think of me?”

Okay, woah, that's... a very accurate question.

She's right, and it's scary that she just pointed that out.

Maybe in the back of your head, you've wondered things, you've had thoughts, but it was all so brief, you've always been quick to brush them away. It never even crossed your mind that maybe you had been missing out on something.

You're not sure how to reply, and it gives Vi a chance to continue talking.

“You never let yourself think of me like that, huh?” she continues, “That's pretty sad, because I've literally been in love with you for the past six years.”

“Don't guilt trip me,” you snap. “It's not like I asked you to fall in love with me, is it?”

“I'm not guilt tripping you. I'm just trying to get you to understand how I feel. I'm just trying to make you see that I...care about you, okay? I'm not trying to—ugh!” She groans, rubbing a hand over her face. “I'm screwing this up, I'm screwing everything up, because apparently I suck at confessing and you… you mess with my head.”

“I mess with your head?” you repeat. “You're the one who's messing with my head! You're the one who's messing with my emotions, you—you just turned my entire life upside down, and you expect me to respond to it perfectly?!”

“Not perfectly!” she retorts. “You're seriously not getting it, are you? All I want is for you to-”

“What do you want then? you want me to say that I feel the same way about you? that I've secretly been in love with you for years and never said anything?”

“No, that's not what I— that's not what I want you to say at all!” She runs her fingers through her hair and pushes it out of her face because the haircut she has gets everywhere. “All I want you to say is that you'll even consider me as an option! I just want you to give me a chance. Is that so much for me to ask for?”

You groan to yourself. “Look, if you like me that much, then maybe you should at least make an effort… and then maybe... I'll give you a chance!” With that, you walk towards the front door.

Vi doesn't respond, not immediately, she just stands there watching you leave, a stunned look on her face. But she manages to shake herself out of that stupor in time to follow you.

“Are you serious...?"

“You want me? You gotta work for it,” you respond without slowing your footsteps.

“Woah woah woah, what? work for it?” she sputters, trying to keep up with you. “What more do you want from me?”

“I want-” You stop in front of the door, suddenly turning around to her. “-I want you to prove how serious you are. Just confessing to me isn't going to change everything, and if you're being serious,” you jab a finger to her chest, “then prove it.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to prove myself, huh? Please, tell me, because I'm really at a loss here.”

“I don't know, figure it out.” You shrug. “You claim to be in love with me, right? and if that really were the case, then you have six whole years worth of feelings inside that-” you point at her “-that heart of yours, and you better damn use it.”

“Fine,” she says, and her tone is determined. “You want me to prove it? I'll prove it. I'll prove it so much, you're going to be drowning in how much I prove it. I'm going to do everything just to win your heart. Just watch.”

That sounds cheesy, but... you'd be lying if you said you weren't intrigued. You scoff, turning around and opening the door, but not before saying, “We'll see about that.”

—

Vi stares at the closed door, her thoughts completely occupied with your words.

Prove it.

She shakes her head, a grin on her face as she walks back to her motor.

You and her have had a rocky past, but she's determined to wipe the slate clean.

Vi swings her leg over her motor. She grips the handles tightly and starts the ignition.

She's going to start from the ground zero with you.

And by god, she will prove herself.

84 notes · View notes

nanamineedstherapy · 2 days ago

Text

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Summary: It was supposed to be a normal frat party. Just a stupid game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Just him, king of never taking anything seriously, getting shoved into a closet for a dumb dare. And yet. Now, he can’t sleep. Can’t think. Can’t stop thinking about you. And one by one, his friends are starting to realize—Whatever happened in that closet? It never really ended. Warnings: Frat House Buffoonery™ Characters Being Absolutely Oblivious Until It's Too Late Unexplained Boners (Yes, It Needs a Warning)

You sat cross-legged on the floor, watching the empty bottle spin. It twirled and twirled, catching the dim glow of fairy lights as it whirred against the wood. The room smelled of cheap liquor, stale perfume, and the faint, acrid trace of someone’s recently smoked cigarette. Laughter and hushed whispers filled the air, but your world had narrowed to this single moment.

You wished it would slow down.

You wished it would stop.

And then—it did.

Pointing directly at him.

Your stomach dropped.

Your heart skipped a beat when his eyes seemed to bore into your soul, the dim light of the room amplifying the intensity of their sparkle. You felt like a small, insignificant thing, lost in the vastness of his attention.

The cheers that erupted around you felt distant, like you were hearing them through water. Someone clapped you on the back, and before you could fully process what was happening, hands were shoving you forward. Your heels skidded against the floor. The closet door swung open.

Then—darkness.

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing you in a space so small it felt like the walls were pressing against your back. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and forgotten dust, and somewhere in the darkness, he shifted.

You strained to hear the sounds of the room, but it was as if the world had narrowed to a single, fragile thread—the sound of your own ragged breathing.

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until his voice—gentle, smooth, husky and entirely too amused—broke through it. "So... only seven minutes?"

A shiver ran down your spine.

You swallowed hard, pressing your back against the wall, desperate for something solid. "Oh God," you whispered.

His low chuckle was warm, rich—dangerous in a way you couldn’t quite place. “Oh God...? That’s the first thing you say to me? Not gonna lie, kinda hurts my feelings.”

Your fingers twitched at your sides. You forced a laugh—nervous, brittle, barely a sound. "I should leave," you stammered, the words rushing out too fast.

He tilted his head, smirk evident even in the dim light. "Leave? Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?"

Your hand shot out, scrambling for the doorknob.

It rattled.

Didn’t turn.

Locked.

You barely held back a whimper. "God, nooo."

He let out a sharp, genuine laugh, the kind that made his shoulders shake. “Hey… relax. Why’re you panicking so damn much?” His voice was softer now, teasing but not unkind.

You opened your mouth, but your brain short-circuited and your tongue betrayed you. "Why are you so cute and tall?"

Silence.

Then, his laughter deepened—low, honey-warm, curling around you like smoke. You felt it more than heard it, the way it filled the tiny space, and seeped under your skin. He took a slow step forward, his presence swallowing the remaining inches between you. The scent of his cologne—clean, a little sharp, like cedar and something fresh—hit you like a second wave of intoxication.

"You think I’m cute?" His voice was laced with amusement, eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Oh my… and you’re the one panicking right now."

“I’m not,” you blurted out, even as your pulse betrayed you.

He clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment. “Not panicking? You tried to run, like, three seconds ago. Plus—” his gaze flicked down “—look how shaky your hands are.”

You looked down, and they were.

“Because…” Your voice came out barely above a whisper. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

His smirk faltered.

Just for a second.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he schooled his expression back into that effortless confidence. But you saw it. The pause. The way his breath hitched, the way he went completely still.

He knew he was handsome. Knew people stared when he walked into a room. But beautiful? No one ever called him that.

“…You sure you aren’t blind?” he murmured, voice quieter than before.

You shook your head. “No. It’s true.”

His throat bobbed, and for a second, you thought he might look away. Instead, he took another step closer—so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him, the barely-there brush of his sleeve against yours.

“…That’s an exaggeration,” he muttered.

But the pink dusting his ears said otherwise.

You nervously started cracking your knuckles.

Your fingers twitched, nerves unraveling one by one.

Crack.

The soft pop of your knuckles breaking the silence made you wince, but before you could shove your hands behind your back, his fingers wrapped gently around yours.

Warm. Steady. Confident.

He lifted your hand between the two of you, inspecting it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. "You a little nervous, huh?"

“Yes...” You kept your gaze anywhere but on him.

That was a mistake.

Because the next thing you knew, his fingers ghosted over your chin, tilting your face up—effortless, like he had all the time in the world to make you look at him.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“Noo.” Your breath hitched. He was too close.

Your first instinct was to wriggle away, but his touch—light yet firm—kept you in place.

Not trapping. Not forcing.

Just holding you there, as if he knew you were already melting under his attention.

“Now you’re trying to get away from me?” His smirk deepened, amused. He was already enjoying this way too much. “Don’t like me having a hold on you?”

The way he said it sent something sharp and warm through your spine.

“Come on, look at me.”

The words weren’t a command. But they slithered into your veins like one.

So you did.

And immediately regretted it.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared into his eyes—striking, consuming, too much. Your brain fully short-circuited, leaving you scrambling for words. Any words.

“…Ahhh, your eyes are like… hypnotizing, bro.” Your voice cracked. “Like biblically accurate angels saying ‘be not afraid.’”

For a moment, there was a pause.

Then he threw his head back, laughing. A real laugh, rich and easy, like you’d just said the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“That’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

You dropped your gaze, mortified. “Well, it wasn’t supposed to be one, but sure.”

His laughter softened, settling into something quieter, something heavier. The tiny space between you shrank, and you felt yourself retreating—only to realize there was nowhere left to go.

His fingers slid away from your chin, trailing down, featherlight, until they rested on your waist.

Testing.

The touch barely there.

You sucked in a breath.

“You’re cute when you’re all flustered.” His voice dipped lower, sending a shiver through you. “Am I making you nervous, princess?”

Your stomach flipped. “Princess?” The word slipped out before you could stop it.

His smirk deepened. “Yeah… you’re all cute and shy, like a little princess.” His fingers flexed slightly, pulling you closer.

You were losing to him. And you were losing badly.

He chuckled at your reaction, watching as your cheeks continued to flush a deep shade of red. “Yeah… you’re all cute and flustered. Like a little princess.” He smirked, his hand on your waist slowly pulling you closer.

A warmth spread up your neck, filling your face.

Before you could think—before you could second-guess yourself—you acted on impulse.

You leaned up, fast, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his lips.

And then immediately tried to flee.

Big mistake.

His arm was tighter around your waist before you could so much as turn, pulling you flush against him in one smooth, effortless motion. The sudden heat of his body against yours sent your brain into a full-blown shutdown.

“Where do you think you’re going, princess?” His voice purred against your ear.

You stiffened. “Home.”

He chuckled, the sound curling around you, sinking into your skin. “Now, now… you can’t just steal my first kiss and run away.” His grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t loosen either. “Besides… what do we have left?” He looked at his expensive watch. “Five minutes?”

“Oh…” You swallowed hard, heartbeat pounding in your ears. “…So now what?”

He tilted his head, feigning deep thought before his smirk curled into something lazier. Something dangerous.

“Now? Well…” His hand on your waist barely moved, but you felt the shift—how deliberate, how controlled every inch of his touch was. “Since you’re stuck here with me, how about we have a little fun?”

You were done for.

“Wh—” You cleared your throat. “I mean, like, what?”

His grip didn’t change, but his presence alone felt suffocating.

Too much heat. Too much confidence.

He leaned in closer, lips hovering just above your temple. “Oh, nothing too crazy... but I have a few ideas.”

Your hands flew up, landing on his chest in a desperate attempt to do something—only for your fingers to betray you by gripping his shirt, balling the fabric into your fists like it was the only thing keeping you from combusting on the spot.

He noticed.

Oh, he noticed.

“Someone’s holding on pretty tight, huh, princess?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Yes, because you are like a beautiful eldritch horror. I can’t look away.”

His chuckle was deep, vibrating against your skin. “A beautiful eldritch horror?” He hummed, tilting his head. “And you say you can’t look away… I’m surprised you’re not terrified of me, then.”

“I am.”

That made him pause.

His hand lifted once more, fingers tilting your chin up again—gentler this time, slower, as if savoring the motion. His gaze burned into you.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t run, princess.” His voice was softer, lower. “I quite like having you in my arms like this.”

Your breath was uneven. Your pulse was a mess. And before you could let yourself think, before you could stop yourself—

You wrapped your arms around his neck, cutting him off with a kiss.

For a split second, he stilled.

Your lips against his.

His breath caught.

Then, like a wave crashing against the shore, he melted into you.

A slow, devastating surrender.

His hands slid to your hips, fingers pressing with something dangerously close to possession. He pulled you in—closer, closer—until there was no space left between you, until you could feel every inch of him against you. His lips moved against yours, slow and teasing, yet demanding all at once. Spearmint. Heat. A smirk ghosting against your mouth, like he was already savoring the way you trembled under his touch.

His left hand moved and he tilted your head—his fingers slipping into your hair, guiding you like he had all the time in the world to kiss you exactly the way he wanted.

The way he needed.

The heat of him was everywhere—his chest pressing into yours, his thigh slotted between your legs, the faint tremor of his breath against your skin.

You smiled into the kiss, fingers threading into his snowy-white hair—too soft, too unfair—and he let out the smallest, pleased hum in response. The sound vibrated against your lips, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

His touch was a paradox—gentle yet commanding, teasing yet desperate. He kissed you like he was trying to memorize you, like he could drown in the heat of your body pressed against his. Every brush of his lips, every flick of his tongue, sent another rush of warmth pooling in your stomach. You could feel the intensity of him in the way his hands explored you, in the way his breath hitched when you tugged lightly at the strands of his hair.

That did something to him.

Because the second your fingers threaded through his hair again, he kissed you harder, deeper—like he was losing control. Like he wanted to lose control.

His grip on your hip slid lower, fingers grazing the curve of your thigh before hooking under it and hitching it around his waist, pulling you flush against him. The movement sent a dizzying shockwave through you—the friction, the pressure, the overwhelming heat of his body pushing you against the door, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

He wasn’t just kissing you—he was claiming you.

And god, you were more than willing to let him.

You smiled against his lips, dazed and breathless.

That was his undoing.

A low, deep groan rumbled from his chest. His fingers curled tighter, his arm locking around you, his grip at your waist firm yet careful—like he wanted to devour you but still didn’t want to break you.

Your warmth. Your scent. The way you melted into him.

It was intoxicating. Maddening.

His heartbeat pounded in sync with yours, the weight of his desire pressing against you, sending another pulse of heat straight to your core.

And still, he didn’t let go.

Couldn’t let go.

Wouldn’t let go.

And then—

You did.

Vanished.

Like you were never there.

He stumbled forward, arms suddenly empty. His breath hitched, chest still heaving.

“What the f—” His voice died in his throat as he whipped around. Had you run away in the dark? That was impossible. The door had been locked.

The closet door slammed open, harsh overhead light flooding in.

And that’s when they saw it.

Gojo Satoru. Standing alone in a musty closet. Flushed. Panting. Sporting a full-on, undeniable, raging fucking boner.

Suguru was the first to react, stepping into the doorway with the kind of deadpan horror reserved for witnessing a catastrophic natural disaster. His gaze flickered from Satoru’s messy hair to his swollen lips, then down to the obvious problem pressing against his jeans.

"Jesus Christ, man." Suguru's face twisted in disgust. "Tell me you were at least jerking off and not—"

"NO! What the fuck?!" Satoru nearly tripped over his own feet as he scrambled out of the closet, hands thrown up defensively.

Behind Suguru, the rest of the frat house was in disarray. Red Solo cups were strewn across the floor, someone was passed out mid-handstand on the couch, and Kashimo was crouched over a half-eaten pizza like a feral raccoon.

Suguru’s brows furrowed. "Dude, I told you not to party with Fine Arts hippies. They always slip you something weird."

“I took nothing.” Satoru semi-yelled.

"Kento, how much did Satoru drink?” Suguru asked aloud, not trusting him.

Kento came up behind Suguru, looking already done with this conversation. "He didn’t drink anything when he was with me, then I left for five minutes to put Haibara’s lightweight ass to sleep, and he ran off."

"You were taking forever," Satoru shot back, still breathless.

"Haibara threw up on me," Kento deadpanned. "I’d rather not walk around campus smelling like his five-day-old burger lunch."

"That’s valid," Toji affirmed, lazily leaning against the hallway door, tossing a peanut into his mouth. "Pukeboy's been living on McDonald’s and spite."

Kento approached closer, rubbing his temples with the exasperation of a man who had seen far too much in his short life. "How much did he drink?" he asked, already regretting it.

Suguru dragged a still-stunned Satoru forward. "He claims he didn't drink at all."

Kento stared at Satoru, then at the situation going on in his pants. Then back at his face. Then back down. Then back up.

Finally, he cracked open a fresh beer from his hoodie pocket and started chugging it while turning the fuck back around.

"Okay, hold on—" Suguru cut in before the inevitable drunk fighting started. "Satoru. Who the hell were you kissing?"

Satoru blinked, still half-dazed. "What? What do you mean? Her." He turned, gesturing back toward the closet.

Silence.

A long, loaded silence.

The group collectively paled.

"Satoru," Shoko said, suddenly way too serious as she stepped forward and pulled the closet door open wider. "There was no one in there. And no one left besides you."

His stomach dropped.

His skin still tingled where your hands had been. His shirt still smelled of your vintage perfume. His lips were still warm from your kiss.

“What did you smoke, man? Better yet, tell me your plug,” Sukuna called from the couch, not even looking up as he flicked his lighter absentmindedly.

"Nothing! I haven’t even had a sip of beer!" Satoru snapped.

“It’s okay, dude. We won’t snitch.” Kashimo snickered, passing the blunt to Sukuna.

"Stop messing with me," Satoru scoffed, but his voice wavered.

Suguru and Kento exchanged a look.

A very specific look.

It was Choso who finally broke the silence, rubbing the back of his neck as he reached for the blunt. "...You do know the story about that closet, right?"

Satoru deadpanned. "What story?"

Yuki let out a slow breath, passing the whiskey to Shoko, uncharacteristically serious. "The girl. The one who got locked in there."

A strange, ancient wrongness settled in his gut.

Hiromi sighed, exhaling smoke from the blunt he had taken from Choso. "No one found her in time."

The air shifted.

The music from the other room seemed quieter now, the hum of the house pressing down on them like a weight.

Satoru’s breath hitched.

His pulse pounded in his ears.

"It’s just a lame story to scare freshmen," he said, more to himself than anyone else.

“This is giving me a bad trip; let’s go somewhere else,” Sukuna muttered, getting up from the couch.

Sukuna wasn’t the type to get spooked—not even when he was piss drunk.

He didn’t seem scared now, but if he was avoiding this place, then maybe... just maybe... the stories were true.

"It’s just a story," Satoru muttered again.

"It's not," Haibara called weakly from the couch, still half-conscious but somehow invested. "She’s been seen before. But never like this."

Shiu grabbed a beer. "Man, I hate this place."

Suguru hesitated. "...Satoru, she’s not—"

Satoru’s throat closed.

He turned back toward the closet.

At the empty space where you had been.

Where your warmth had been.

Where your hands had trembled in his.

It seemed impossible—your touch, your breath, your mouth on his—it all felt too real.

And yet…

A deep, aching sadness settled in his bones.

And then—

He smiled.

Soft. Almost wistful.

"Well," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

"At least she thought I was beautiful."

The rest of them were too scared to grimace as they dragged his stupid ass out of the house.

A/N: Well. That happened. Got the idea when my mom told me to clean my own closet. Like I'm an adult mom, chill it's just PTSD ruining my life. Not me!

All Works Masterlist

This story is already written & will be 3 chapters total and I'll post the next part tomorrow.

Next Chapter 2 - (Tumblr/Ao3)

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brookediamonds · 2 days ago

Note

heyy, is there any chance i could request where there's a young competitor on the iron dragons like devon/kenny's age and axel and the reader sort of take them under their wing and act like their second parents? no worries if not!

next to you | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: Taking the newest Iron Dragon student under your wing, or wings, you and Axel unknowingly adopt the newcomer creating a new title for your relationship.

Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: None, tooth rotting fluff

(A/N: I love this!! 🥹 I hope you do too!!)

gif is not mine

"Chop, chop, let's go," you clapped your hands as you stood outside of Axel's black convertible as your mini me walked down the driveway.

Marcus rolled his eyes at your bossiness, making you quirk a brow up from under your sunglasses.

"Don't give me that look, we brought you a bagel," you hold up the brown bag that contained an everything seasoned treat.

Marcus perks up taking the bag from your hand before hopping into the backseat of Axel's car.

"Thanks, guys!" The 15 year old grins reaching into the bag for the breakfast item.

"Don't get my car dirty," Axel warns him as you fastened your seatbelt.

"He wouldn't," you frowned lightly hitting your boyfriend in the shoulder. "He knows better."

Axel scoffs beginning to back out of the driveway. "Right."

The sun beamed down on your skin, wind blowing softly through the flyaways from your french braided hair, as Axel drove down to the local arena of Hong Kong.

"Are you nervous about today?" You ask the young boy, turning in your seat slightly.

"Kind of," he mumbles through a mouth full of cream cheese.

"You will do fine," Axel spoke assuringly. "You've been doing very well at practice."

You nodded in agreement reaching over the console to grab at Axel's hand. Your boyfriend flips his palm up, letting your fingers slip into his before giving them a gentle squeeze.

Wordlessly, he lifts your hand, giving the back of it a soft peck in reassurance. While you two had been dating for three years already, his small gesture still sent butterflies to your stomach.

"You two are gross."

You grinned leaning over to press a long dramatic kiss to your boyfriend's cheek with a, "muah!" Making Axel smirk and Marcus groan.

"Thank god we're here," the prepubescent boy exhales as Axel pulled into the parking lot.

You rolled your eyes, the smile never leaving your face. Once you're parked, the three of you head into the building, seeing some of your teammates already there.

"Morning," your Sensei greets you as all of you pass him into the locker room.

"Good morning, Sensei," the three of you respond in unison. You head into separate locker rooms, changing into your green Gi's for the tournament.

When you head back to your team, you see Zara talking with Axel and Marcus. The stands were filled with people, the environment buzzing with excitement and occasional cheers for the competitors.

"Oh look, mom and dad are here," Zara teases you as you approach them.

You stop mid-step, eyes flickering over to Axel and Marcus who looked just ask amused and stunned as you.

"Come again?" You inquire.

"Yeah, you two hover over Marcus like concerned parents. You train with him, hype him up, lecture him when he gets reckless—" Zara begins to list off examples of your actions towards the boy.

You raise your eyebrows taking everything she was saying into consideration.

"She's not wrong," Marcus pipes in as he stretched next to you all. You scratched the back of your head awkwardly. Looking over at Axel, who is also processing her words, you nudge him your elbow.

"We do bring him breakfast a lot," you admit.

"And pick him up and take him home," Axel realizes.

You stare at Marcus, scanning his facial features when it suddenly dawns on you, "Wait… does he kinda look like us if we had kids to you?"

The three of you all suddenly began to study the boy's face when he narrows his eyes at you.

"I do not look like you two!" Marcus interrupts your unhinged thinking. "It just so happens I have your same colored eyes and am almost as tall as Axel."

You pouted dramatically walking over to him, wrapping your arms around him as he stayed still, arms by his side with a sour look on his face.

"You totally look like us!" You cooed squeezing him.

Zara bursted out laughing, Axel shaking his head at the whole ordeal.

"Please make her stop," Marcus begs looking over at your boyfriend.

"Sorry kid," Axel shrugs with his arms crossed.

"Alright," you sighed releasing your hold walking over to Axel's side, nudging him playfully. "Come on, dad, let’s get our kid ready for his match."

"Not funny," Axel mutters, but the smirk on his face betrays him.

The tournament soon began, the competition starting off with the kata category soon transitioning to the one on one's between males and females.

You and Axel easily dominated your age division, earning The Iron Dragons 1st place for Seniors. Marcus was in the Junior division, fighting well but struggling when it came down to the finals for the boys.

Marcus is a headstrong adolescent, he fights with integrity and struggles to accept defeat when a mistake is made. He reminded you a lot of yourself when it came to dwelling on your loses and reminded you of Axel when he fought with everything he has inside of him.

When Marcus joined your dojo, you quickly took notice to his hard working demeanor and love for the sport that you didn't want Sensei Wolf to corrupt that innocence and passion he held.

So you took him under your wing, you and Axel. You gave him the words of encouragement and assurance your Sensei never had to offer.

You didn't want him to resent the sport like you and Axel were starting to when you were Marcus's age. Together you and Axel kept each other afloat, and stood by each others side when things got too hard, mentally and physically.

And you would be sure to do the same for the young boy that stood defeated on the mat from the loss that just occurred.

Marcus walked off the mat with holding his head held high like you taught him to if this should happen. Your Sensei stood with his arms crossed, prepared to release his wrath for losing when Axel stepped in front of him.

"What did you do wrong?" Axel asked, his voice steady but firm.

Marcus, still catching his breath, glanced between Axel and Sensei Wolf before answering. "I dropped my guard after the second counter," he admitted, jaw tight. "I thought I had him, but I hesitated."

Axel nodded, his expression unreadable. "And what should you have done?"

"Stayed on him. Followed through instead of waiting."

"Exactly," Axel said, crossing his arms. "Don't hesitate, you go for it, something we can work on, right?"

Marcus exhaled slowly, nodding. "I can fix it."

"Good." Axel nodded before finally turning to Sensei Wolf, who had remained silent, watching the exchange with narrowed eyes.

For a moment, it seemed like he might object, might force his authority back into the situation. But then, without a word, he stepped back.

You let out a quiet breath, glancing at Axel, sighed in relief as well.

"You okay?" You ask quietly walking up to the defeated boy.

Marcus nods, still holding his tall stance, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands remain clenched at his sides.

"You fought well," you say lightheartedly. "You made one mistake, and you already know what it was. That means you’re learning."

Marcus exhales sharply, shaking his head. "Learning doesn’t win matches."

"Well, no," you agree. "But it does make you better for the next one."

Marcus looks down at your optimistic smile, feeling a certain amount of weight lift from his chest.

"You're gonna win the next one," you state reaching out to squeeze his arm.

"I'm gonna win the next one," Marcus repeats after you.

"Exactly," you state. Axel can't help the small smile tugging at his lips when you give your words of encouragement.

Marcus huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. "Wow," he mutters. "You two really are my parents."

You and Axel glance over at each other, smiles forming on your faces.

"Yeah well, someone's gotta look out for you," you tease the fifteen year old. He snorts, shaking his head before walking off to join the rest of the team.

As you watched Marcus rejoin the team, you feel Axel’s hand brush against yours before he takes it fully, his thumb running absentmindedly over your knuckles making you look up at him.

"You really have a way with him," Axel says lowly, eyes softened.

"And you don't?" You tease, turning to face him.

"I just tell him what he did wrong," he shrugs nonchalantly. "You actually make him believe he can do better."

You reach for his other free hand, intertwining your fingers together.

"We make him believe he can do better," you correct him. Axel huffs a quiet laugh, squeezing your hands.

"Guess we make good parents,'" He smirks down at you. You feel your heart flutter in your chest, a small chuckle escaping your lips.

"Agreed," you finish before standing up on your tippy-toes to brush your lips against his. Before Axel can kiss you again, Zara's whistle echoes through out the arena.

"Alright, mom and dad, quit making heart eyes and get over here!" She calls out to you guys.

Axel groans making you chuckle under your breath. He throws an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to where your team stood.

"She's never gonna let us live that down, you know that right?" You smile glancing up at Axel as he sighs dramatically.

"I know," he mutters, shaking his head. "But at least we’re the cool parents."

You laugh, leaning into his side as you approach the team. You squeeze Axel’s hand one last time before letting go, stepping into place with your team.

No matter what happened next, one thing was certain: Marcus would always have you two in his corner. And he was grateful for that.

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

(a/n: Happy Valentine's Day! ❤️ Axel for sure would drive an all black vintage 1969 Camaro, I don't make the rules. Not 100% I'll have a V-Day one shot, but gonna try my best to make one up, I'm thinking it's gonna be with the sunshine axel x grumpy reader trope. Still working on other requests btw!!)

#axel kovacevic x reader #cobra kai #axel kovacevic imagines #axel cobra kai #axel kovacevic #axel x reader #miguel diaz #sam larusso #zara malik #eli moskowitz

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radioisntdead · 2 days ago

Note

I'd like to request Velvette and/or Camilla with an assistant reader who has a crush on them, and one day they get hit in the head and suddenly they can't filter their horny/romantic thoughts about their crush/boss when speaking.

"Yes ma'am, I'll get that to you within the hour. By Lucifer, you're thicker than a bowl of oatmeal."

"I'll call the supplier right now. I'd forego a week's pay just to get a kiss from you."

Stuff like that. And it just comes out nonchalantly and without rhyme or reason throughout the day.

As much as I love Carmilla Carmine, I gotta go with my favorite Vee, Velvette!!

Brain damaged

Velvette x reader

Warnings: reader is uh, very silly, also reader has glasses for no other reason than the fact I was listening to confessions of a rotten girl with Hatsune Miku while writing the first half so take that as you will, ending is a little rushed because I was about to pass out.

Also this started out as a oneshot but I got stuck in the middle so it kinda faded into headcanons my apologies for the wonky formatting!!! I think this could classify as a drabble+ headcanons??

You were an average sinner, didn't do anything particularly in life to get down here, you went to work and you came home at the end of the day, ate, browsed the Internet and slept.

Nothing special, if you could say there was something that made you stand out from the rest was that you were one of the Vee's, specifically Velvette's assistant, one that's been with her for years and still has yet to be replaced or worse.

Although that may soon change since during your time off you had a horrible accident involving a turf war and long story short you were the lucky victim of a concussion!

You didn't go to the hospital because, while being Velvette's assistant actually gave you great health insurance, you were late because your favorite webcomic finally updated and you were not missing it because of some concussion.

This will be a decision you come to regret because once you returned to work all your inside thoughts became outside thoughts!

Whether you realized that or not.

The first instance of this was you waltzing into work at the crack of dawn, Velvette was a busy woman who valued her beauty sleep, so for her to get that sleep others must sacrifice theirs.

Oddly enough today she was up and about the same as you, so as her assistant you followed her around with your notepad.

This is when the first accident came about.

"Can you believe the nerve of that fucker? Who does he think he is?! What do you think [Name]?"

"I think that if I were to die I'd like it to be by your hands,"

"What."

"What?"

Going from shit talking someone to your assistant to them telling you that they would like to die by your hands was jarring, Velvette immediately sent you off to grab her coffee and you not even realizing what you had said just skipped away to grab her coffee.

Maybe this was a once-off incident, maybe she had misheard you in her precaffeinated state.

It was NOT.

You handed her files? "Here are your files Miss Velvette," "Great, anything else?" "I'd like to bury my face in your chest but other than that no, I'll take my leave now."

Honestly that should've gotten you reported to HR but the Vee's don't really have an HR department, it's actually just five Niffty size sinners in a trenchcoat.

You accidentally brushed hands? "I have been blessed."

You fall down the stairs and she's standing over you? "Oh, an angel?"

That one actually got you kicked.

Velvette's not... Mad...

Mostly because she finds you quite cute, like a little silly thing.

She is REALLY CONFUSED THOUGH BECAUSE???? you've never been like this before??? And you don't seem to be realizing what you're saying????

She decides to Uno reverse you.

"Anything else you need me to do for you?" You ask handing her lunch or something,

"You can sit on my lap."

Cue you spiraling

Cue the rest of the day where you'd blurt out something and she'd retort in kind.

Your coworkers are confused for the most part because??? The last time someone tried this they uh...

Let's just say the Vee's swap employees.

anyways cue the end of the work day where Velvette ends up taking you on a date because??? You're flirting with her and she's reciprocating so obviously the next time is to take you out.

Eventually in true cartoon fashion you get another concussion and everything just swaps back, your inside thoughts are back to being your inside thoughts but you did get a girlfriend out of your concussions!!

She did drag you to the hospital though because you had TWO concussions!!

Your job may or may not be in jeopardy though because you're dating your boss and uh.... That's kinda messy soooooooo good luck with that!!

Good evening folks!! I do hope you enjoyed!! Happy Valentine's day! Whether you're spending this day with a loved one, family, friends or by yourself I hope you have a wonderful day, and remember if you like chocolate it's supposed to go on sale soon, I want caramel chocolates :]

Anyways as always thank you for tunin' on in! Have a great rest of your night!

PSSSSSSSSST!!!!! Join our discord! It's welcoming to all fandoms not just hazbin and it's filled with amazing people!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel velvette x reader #velvette x reader #hazbin Velvette x reader

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andiberzatto · 1 day ago

Note

Dword carmy, reader works w him and fights back with him on the line, so naturally, overstimulation as a form of punishment 🫣

🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨💨💨

oooooo I love love love! because he so would. I feel like he wouldn’t even recognize it as a overstimulation punishment I think he’d just do it because he’s angry and he needs her to be reduced to cock drunk mess. like he just kinda fucks her and fucks her til they’re both satisfied and then he’s all gentle and sweet after.

you stay late in the restaurant, cleaning the kitchen and appliances, trying to wait out his anger so they can talk. This was the biggest fight you’ve had as a couple and it was at the restaurant of all places. Something Carmy hated, he wanted the bear to be good and calm and a good restart. But every large fight in the kitchen felt like a major step back to how it was at The Beef.

You heard Carmen walk in, holding a box of cigarettes. He spoke up in a soft, but rough voice “What’re you still doing here? We closed an hour ago.”

“I wanted to talk baby.. please” she says softly.

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. He sets the box of cigarettes down on the counter, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he speaks. “Talk? After the shit you pulled today, you think we have anything left to fucking say to each other?”

“I know we both yelled a lot of shit.” She reminds him it takes two to tango in this.

His voice softens slightly, but carries a hint of pain. “Yeah, we fucking did. You called me names I haven't heard since high school...” He leans against the counter, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. And you know what hurts the most? You fucking meant every word.”

she nods “and you said some stuff that weren’t the prettiest either.”

He takes a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly. He’s so pissed off he’s ignoring his own rule of not smoking in his new restaurant, “Oh, I bet you loved hearing that you're 'useless' and that our relationship is 'a waste of time'...” His eyes flash with anger, but there's something else lurking beneath the surface.

she closes her eyes trying not to cry “Carm-”

"Don't 'Carm' me," He snaps, his voice low. He watches you carefully, seeing your eyes screw shut tighter, trying to hide the unshed tears. He knows you well. He unknowingly growls softly. "You called me a workaholic piece of shit..."

she nods “I know what I said.. baby please just-”

He throws his cigarette down on the industrial concrete floor, crushing it under his shoe. "You said I'd never amount to anything more than this restaurant... You said that our relationship would fail like my parents' did... because all berzatto’s are fuckin psycho.”

she looks at him “Carm… you and I both say things we don’t mean in arguments. Both of us never stop until the cut is deep…”

His eyes narrow dangerously, his jaw clenching. "But you always hit where it hurts the most... You always know exactly what to say to make me feel like the worthless piece of shit my mother always made me..." He pauses, his chest heaving with anger and unshed emotions.

she reaches to touch his face “come here..” she knows he’s either gonna push her away or flip the sadness into sexual charged anger and fuck her til she’s a babbling mess apologizing.

He flinches as your fingers brush his cheek, a shudder running through him. For a tense second, he seems torn between pulling away and closing the distance. Then, with a low, anguished sound, he grabs your wrist, his grip almost painfully tight. "Fuck you,"

His eyes darken with unreadable emotions. He watches your face carefully - your big, round eyes, your slightly parted lips. He knows that body language better than anyone else. He realizes you're trying not to cry again. He unconsciously tightens his grip on your wrist.

Without a word, he hauls you into his arms, crushing his lips against yours in a brutal, angry kiss. He holds you so tightly, it's like he's trying to meld you into his body. His other hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back to deepen the kiss.

she kisses him and he all but strips her bare in the middle of his restaurant kitchen. Pristine and clean to a meticulous degree, she’s now about to be fucked and ruined on all because “daddy needs to teach a lesson”

He lifts you up onto the counter, pushing your thighs apart roughly. He's past gentleness. He's past slow love-making. He needs to fucking claim, to dominate, to punish. He tugs your hair back harder, making you gasp. His voice drops dangerously low.

"You're gonna apologize for everything you said today, and you're gonna mean it. And then, you're gonna shut the fuck up and let me fix this." He doesn't wait for a response. He tears her underwear to shreds and plunges two fingers inside her roughly.

"Spread your legs wider," He growls, adding another finger. He watches you throw your head back, your hair cascading down. He knows your body better than anyone. He knows how to make you moan, how to make you scream.

He ignores her whines, pushing a third finger inside her roughly. He stretches her, preparing her for his size. He knows she can take three fingers. He curls his fingers inside her, hitting that spot that drives her crazy. "Look at me,"

she gasps and her eyes dart to find his blue Steely eyes.

He looks into her eyes, his fingers pumping inside her roughly. He can see the struggle, the way she's trying not to break under the pressure. He likes it. He likes seeing her like this - needy, whining, begging with her eyes. "You like this?"

she nods her jaw still dropped.

"Then why the fuck were you being such a brat earlier?" His thumb circles her clit while his fingers continue moving inside her. "You're gonna come so hard on my hand right now, and then I'm gonna fuck you raw on this counter."

she whines and placates “I’m sorry Carm”

"Too late for that," He snaps his fingers harder, making her cry out. He watches your tits bounce with each thrust of his fingers. He's not fooling around. He's not trying to make love. He's trying to make you scream.

He chuckles darkly, withdrawing his fingers abruptly. He uses your wetness to slick his achingly hard cock, the tip probing at your entrance.

His breathing is heavy, seeing you so vulnerable and spread out for him on the counter. He knows exactly what you need - what you can handle. "You want this?" His tip teases your entrance, not entering yet. "Want Daddy's cock?"

she nods “yes please”

He thrusts his hips forward suddenly, pushing the head of his massive size inside you. He watches you struggle to take him, seeing the tears well up in your eyes from the pain and stretching. "Look at me," He growls, not giving you time to adjust.

He sees your face - slightly scrunched up from pain. His girl isn't used to this treatment. He usually makes love slowly, carefully. This is different. He's rougher, angrier. He pushes another inch inside you without warning, making you cry out.

"Shh.. shh..shhh," He hushes you, pushing another inch inside you. He can feel you stretching around him, trying to accommodate his massive size. He's only halfway in and you're already struggling. "You can take it," He growls, pushing deeper. "Daddy knows you can."

He grabs her lower lip gently between his teeth when it starts to wobble, releasing it slowly. His hands grip your hips harder, pulling you down as he pushes in deeper, breaking you open completely. "Such a good girl," He whispers against your mouth, kissing you roughly. "All the way in now, baby."

He stays still for a moment, letting you feel every inch of him inside you. He knows you need a second to adjust. He pulls back slowly, feeling you clench around him. When he pushes back in, he sets a brutal pace, fucking you hard and fast on the counter.

she whines and gasps, grabbing purchase on the prep counter, he was currently fucking her on the garde manger

The kitchen is filled with the sounds of his heavy breathing, your whimpers, and the slapping of flesh against the cold countertop. His hands roam your body possessively, squeezing your breasts, grabbing your thighs, pulling you onto him harder. "who’s Daddy's girl,"

she whines “I am…”

He leans in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he growls, "Say it louder. Tell me who owns this pussy." His thrusts become more intense, each one punctuating his words. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips, undoubtedly leaving marks.

“You do… Carm…” she gasps

He smirks at her breathless admission, pleased by her proper acknowledgment. He rewards her by slipping a hand between their bodies, his skilled fingers finding her clit and rubbing hard circles. "That's right, this pretty pussys mine… you are all mine," he growls, his hips driving into her relentlessly.

she nods and whines, Carmen pulls her hair back to bare her throat and nips and sucks as he fucks her hard. Needing to mark her. Needing her to remember this lesson. This fight.

His teeth leave red marks along her neck as he pounds into her, making sure she feels every inch of him. "Every fucking inch of this pussy belongs to me. You understand what that means?" His free hand moves to her throat, not squeezing but possessively holding.

Feeling her tremble on the edge of orgasm, Carmen's thrusts become almost punishing, his cock driving deep and hitting her g-spot with each plunge. His fingers rub furious circles on her clit. "Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel this pussy squeeze me."

she cums once, but carmy isn’t done being angry with her for the argument so he decides to keep pushing her.

As she comes down from her high, Carmen doesn't slow his pace. Instead, he grabs her legs and hooks them over his shoulders, changing the angle and driving even deeper. His thumb presses against her clit, working it roughly. "Again," he demands, his voice low and commanding.

she whines and gasps, not expecting more rounds.

He ignores her gasps, fucking her with renewed vigor. His anger and possessiveness driving him to make her cum again and again. He doesn't stop until she's a trembling mess, her pussy clenching around him in uncontrollable spasms. "Good girl," he praises, finally slowing his pace.

she is gripping the end of the prep table with white knuckles so she can hold on. She can barely hold herself up.

Sensing her exhaustion, Carmen pulls out of her and sets her on her feet. He quickly cleans himself off before turning back to her, his expression softer now that his anger has been spent. He picks her up and carries her to his, laying her gently on the couch. "Rest, baby,"

she feels him clean her up with tissues and a wet cloth walking back and forth from the bathroom to the office.

He sees small bite marks on her neck and shoulders, red handprints on her hips, and thigh bruises where he gripped her too hard. He cleans each mark gently, his touch surprisingly soft now that the rough sex is over. He throws the dirty tissues away and covers her lower half with a blanket.

she rests while Carmy disinfects the prep table and starts to work on kitchen menu ideas pulling an all nighter at the restaurant.

He works silently, his focus solely on the menu and the kitchen. Every so often, he glances over at her, making sure she's still asleep.

She wakes up around 6am she slides off the couch a little wobbly and dresses knowing she can’t be half naked when the rest of staff arrives.

Carmen looks up from his papers as he hears movement, his eyes narrowing when he sees her standing unsteadily. He rises from his chair, crossing the office with long strides. Before she can protest, he steadies her with a firm grip on her elbows. "Easy baby…"

“Need t’dress can’t have em see me like this” she mumbles.

He helps her sit back down on the couch, then retrieves her clothes from the floor. He hands them to her, his gaze softening as he looks at her sleep-rumpled face. "Let me help you, baby. You're still shaking."

she nods “yes please. I’m sorry for yesterday”

He hushes her softly, pulling her shirt over her head carefully, like she's made of glass. He then buttons her pants, his touch surprisingly tender. He pushes her hair back from her face, meeting her eyes. "You're sorry for the fight or for screwing on the prep table?"

She blushes at his bold word choice for 6 in the morning, “The fight. Definitely not sorry for screwing on the prep table…. That was hot” she admits the last part in a half mumble.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth and he chuckles lowly. "I thought you might say that. For the record, neither am I. Best damn use for a prep table, if you ask me." He winks playfully before sobering slightly.

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #andiberzattothoughts #andiberzatto #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto smut #carmenberzattoisdaddy #Dom!carmyberzatto

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