#but so i can make more dumb memes and edits like this

[dazevi]

CHAPTER FIVE: TELL HER

heart to heart series | vi x fem!reader

synopsis: vi doesn’t take your response well, falling back into the one thing that always drags her down even further—alcohol. meanwhile, you’re left to reflect on your own reaction, struggling to figure out what it is you truly want. when jayce decides to give vi a reality check, she decides to pull herself together and sets her mind on planning something special.

content warnings: MDNI. slightly suggestive content, more angst, some fluff, hurt/comfort??, rockstar!vi, bookshop owner/writer!reader, exes to lovers, friends with benefits dynamic (kinda), so exes to fwb to lovers, alcohol/drinking, smoking, bestfriend!jayce, kissing, vi is sooooo in love … if im missing anything else please lmk!

wc: 20,080 (slightly inaccurate since i made some edits)

notes: ok ok ok im so so so so sorry for the long wait when i kept saying that i was gonna upload this chapter soon. i have gotten so busy these past couple weeks with work plus taking care of my grandma, so i’ve been struggling to write for a bit, but i finally got this chapter done! it’s also currently the longest chapter of the series, i hope i didn’t stretch it out too long to the point it gets boring, but i hope you all enjoy it :) ty for ur patience! also lovely fanart by bunimint_ on IG !

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Her head fucking hurts. She’s lost count of how many drinks she’s had—whiskey, mostly, the sharp burn of it sliding down her throat, but never really reaching that part of her that needs numbing the most. Besides that, the club is too loud. Music pounding through the speakers, some deep, bass heavy track that makes the floor vibrate beneath her boots. It was full of shouts, laughter, the clink of glasses—but it’s all just noise.

Vi sits slouched in the corner of the bar, a cigarette tucked behind her ear, the smoke of someone else’s drifting too close, burning her nose. The lights are dim, neon flickers bleeding red and blue across the bottles lined up behind the bar. She rubs at her temple, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the liquid swirling in her glass.

It’s been weeks since she last saw you. Since she watched you pull away from her, watched you cry, watched you remind her of the rules she stupidly agreed to.

Your words ring inside her head.

Then, she takes another slow sip. It doesn’t help.

Vi’s phone buzzes against the surface of the bar, but she doesn’t look at it right away. It’s probably Ekko or Loris wondering where the hell she is, why she’s ghosted them for the past few days. Or maybe it’s Steb sending her some dumb meme to make her laugh, like that’s gonna fix the massive fucking hole in her chest.

It could even be her manager. She’s gotten too many calls from him this week—all of them she ignored.

She swallows the thought down with the rest of her drink, signaling the bartender for another. She just sits there, drowning in the noise, wishing it was enough to make her forget you.

Her phone buzzes again. The screen lights up on the bar, her manager’s name glowing and flashing across the top of the screen. She watches it ring, until it goes silent.

That’s the fourth call tonight. The tenth this week. She doesn’t bother listening to the voicemails—she already knows what he wants. She can already hear him over the phone, telling her that her time’s up, and that it’s time to get back to work.

She used to jump into the thought of work.

But now, she doesn’t even want to think about. All of it feels too big, too exhausting.

And, she’d rather think about you.

And it’s fucked up—she knows that—but you’re the only thing her mind keeps circling back to. She replays that night in her head—the way you looked at her that night, standing there in your apartment, eyes glistening with tears, the way your voice cracked… the way you didn’t say I love you back.

Vi knocks back the rest of her drink and taps the bar for another.

She’s drunk. She knows it. She drags a hand down her face, her and leans back forward against the counter.

She’s so fucking drunk, and still, the ache in her chest is sharper than ever.

“Holy shit… it’s Vi!”

Oh, for fucks sake.

“Vi! From The Lanes!”

She doesn’t look up. Doesn’t move. Just grips the glass a little harder, teeth pressing into her bottom lip.

Of course. Of fucking course.

“Guys! It’s Vi! Right over here—come look!”

A few heads turn. The man—some guy she doesn’t recognize, drunk off his ass—waves his arms like he’s discovered some kind of rare fucking animal.

“No way.”

“Vi? Like—Like, Violet Lanes?”

“Shit, get a picture—”

Her head is pounding. The music is too loud, the lights too bright, and now there are people inching closer, whispering and grinning, phones already coming out.

She shoves her glass away from her, ice clinking too loud against the counter.

“Not tonight,” she mutters under her breath, voice rough, but the guy doesn’t get the hint. He’s still calling people over, still beaming like this is some fan meet-and-greet she didn’t agree to.

“Vi, man—you gotta let me buy you a drink,” he says, his hand reaching out, like he might actually touch her shoulder.

Vi flinches back. “Don’t.”

Her head is fucking killing her.

“Fuck off,” she says, louder this time, not even bothering to look at them. “I’m not in the mood.”

The guy laughs, like she’s kidding—like this is all part of the show.

But it’s not. It’s really fucking not.

And he still doesn’t take the hint. He’s still grinning, still too close, and Vi can feel the heat creeping up her neck. It’s the alcohol—making her blood too hot, her patience too thin—but it’s also everything else.

“Come on, Vi,” he says. “Just one picture—”

He touches her arm.

She shoves him back, not hard enough to send him flying, but hard enough to make a point.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me.”

The guy stumbles a little and his friends go quiet.

“Vi, chill—” someone mutters.

She stands, the bar stool scraping back with an ugly screech. Her jaw locks, and she’s already picturing how it would feel. Just one hit. Just to make him back off.

Her knuckles twitch.

But she doesn’t.

She doesn’t—because she knows what happens if she does. Knows the headlines that’ll follow. Vi from The Lanes Punches Fan in Nightclub. Knows her manager will tear her apart the second she picks up her phone. Knows this asshole isn’t worth the trouble.

“Fuck,” Vi mutters.

She pushes past them—shoulders stiff, teeth grinding—ignoring the half-hearted apologies, the drunken protests, the phones still aimed at her.

She doesn’t stop until she’s outside.

The air hits her—cold and wet—and Vi realizes it must’ve just rained. The pavement glistens under the glow of a flickering streetlamp, puddles pooling along the alleyway. The club’s bass still thuds behind her, muffled now, but it’s better for her head.

Vi leans against the wall, bracing her palms against the rough brick, head hanging low.

And all she can think about—all she ever seems to think about these days—is you.

Vi squats down, her back against the brick wall, the damp chill seeping through her jeans. She rakes a hand through her hair, then presses the heel of her palm against her temple. Her head tips back, hitting the wall with a soft and dull thud.

She’s not sure how long she stays like that—seconds, minutes—but then she hears the scuff of shoes against wet pavement, footsteps coming closer. She doesn’t move, doesn’t look up at first. Just stares at the ground, at the smear of neon reflected in a puddle a few inches from her boot.

Then the shoes stop.

Right next to her.

Dark brown leather, a little worn at the toes but still clean. Familiar.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Vi knows that voice.

She lets out a long breath through her nose, her jaw clenching once before she finally looks up.

Jayce stands there, hands in the pockets of his coat, his brows drawn tight in that way they always do when he’s about to give her a lecture. His tie’s a little loose, like he came from some fancy dinner or meeting, but he’s still all crisp lines and polished shoes, the perfect picture of a man who’s got his shit together.

It pisses Vi off more than it should.

“How did you find me?” she mutters.

Jayce lets out a sigh. It’s not the kind of sigh that means he’s annoyed, though.

“Checked Vander’s first,” he starts. “But you weren’t there. Then checked a few of the nightclubs in town… there’s not that many, so…”

“Just leave me alone, Jayce,” she huffs.

“Can’t. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

Vi doesn’t move at first. She can feel his eyes on her, like he’s waiting for her to push him away again. She lets out a frustrated breath and drops her head back against the wall again. The throbbing in her skull hasn’t stopped and her fingers itch for a cigarette

“I don’t want to go home yet.”

Jayce sighs and thinks for a moment, weighing the options in his head. When he’s done deciding, he moves to stand next to her, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze lingering on the city lights in the distance, even though he’s not really looking at them.

Vi pulls out a cigarette, and lights it with her lighter, a cheap one, yellow and plastic, she bought at one when she stopped to get gas, the soft flare of the flame briefly illuminating her face before the smoke curls into the cool air.

Jayce doesn’t say anything, just watches her. He knows she’s not okay, knows that she hasn’t been for a while now. But he doesn’t push.

Vi exhales a long, slow breath of smoke, watching it twist and fade in the air. She wants to scream, wants to throw something, anything. She’s so damn tired of feeling like she’s losing everything.

She glances over at Jayce from the corner of her eye. There’s concern in his gaze, but no judgment.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.

She’s not sure why she says it. Maybe it’s because she’s drunk, maybe because Jayce is the only one who hasn’t looked at her like she’s already gone. Maybe because she needs to say it out loud for someone to hear.

Jayce doesn’t respond right away. The alleyway smells like wet concrete and stale smoke, and Vi’s head still pounds as she rolls the cig between her teeth, the taste of tobacco bitter on her tongue.

She hear Jayce shift beside her, leaning against the wall with a quiet sigh, “Mel says that… ____’s mad at you.”

Vi’s lips curl into a smirk, slow and humorless. She lets out a sharp breath through her nose, shaking her head softly.

“Understatement of the century,” she says roughly.

She keeps her gaze fixed on the slick ground in front of her, a single puddle catching the glow of a distant streetlamp. Anything to keep from looking at Jayce. Anything to keep from seeing the pity that’s probably written all over his face.

She can still hear you—your voice, the way you said her name like it was a weapon.

I told you what this was, Violet.

She shakes her head at the thought of Jayce even being here. She doesn’t need a lecture. She doesn’t need a pep talk. She doesn’t need someone else telling her how badly she fucked up—she already knows.

“Have you talked to her at all?”

“Jayce.” Vi furrows her brows, throwing her unfinished cig into the puddle she was staring at before standing and turning towards him, “What the fuck is this?”

Jayce doesn’t flinch at her sharp tone, but he exhales through his nose and watches the cigarette fizzle out in the puddle, a tiny hiss of smoke rising and disappearing into air.

“I’m just asking,” he says softly.

Vi scrubs a hand over her face, her palm dragging down the length of her scarred cheek before she plants it firmly on her hip, the other hand raking through her already-messy hair.

“No, what the fuck is this?” she repeats, louder this time. “Did Mel put you up to this? Did she tell you to come track me down and play therapist? Huh?”

Jayce tilts his head, his jaw flexing. “No one put me up to anything, Vi.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not.” His voice is firm when he speaks. “Believe it or not, I care about you, Vi. I care about you and I care about ____. And, clearly, you’re spiraling.”

Vi lets out a bitter laugh, pacing two steps back and then forward again, like she can’t stand still, like the walls of the alley are pressing in on her.

“You don’t know shit,” she snaps.

“Don’t I?” Jayce’s voice hardens. “I know you’re drunk right now. I know that everyone’s wondering where you are. I know that they’re worried about you. I’m worried about you. Just because you haven’t been here for a while doesn’t mean we don’t care.”

Vi looks away.

“And everyone knows it’s because you’re still in love with her.”

“Don’t,” she warns.

Jayce watches her carefully. “Vi…”

She looks up at him then, eyes bloodshot and glassy, her throat bobbing as she swallows hard.

“Just leave it,” she mutters. “Please.”

“Talk to her,” he says softly.

Vi lets out a bitter laugh, “She won’t even fucking listen to me!”

Jayce clenches his jaw, but he doesn’t move from where he���s leaning against the wall, watching Vi pace around right in front of him—something she recognizes her doing every time she was feeling hot headed.

“She doesn’t even love me anymore, so what’s the fucking point?” Vi says again.

Jayce exhales through his nose, “You don’t know that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

She’s pacing again, boots scuffing against the wet pavement. Her hand twitches toward her pocket—probably for another cigarette—but she stops herself.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me,” Vi mutters, more to herself than to Jayce now. “Like I was a mistake. Like she regretted ever—”

Her voice breaks off, and she presses the heel of her palm to her eye, like she can shove the tears back in before they even have the chance to fall.

Jayce watches her quietly for a moment, “Vi…”

But Vi’s already shaking her head, blinking hard.

“She told me—” she pauses, swallowing hard. “She told me she didn’t want anything more with me.”

She lets out a shaky breath.

“And I said okay. I said fucking okay because I thought… I thought maybe if I just stuck around long enough, she’d change her mind. That she’d see that I still—”

She cuts herself off again, biting down on the words before they can fully slip out. Her shoulders sag, head tipping back against the brick wall as she stares up.

“She doesn’t love me anymore,” Vi whispers, so quiet now that Jayce almost doesn’t hear it.

He shakes his head, his brows pulling together. “You really believe that?”

Vi’s gaze moves away—down the alley, anywhere but him.

“Vi,” Jayce says again, “If she really didn’t love you, you think any of this would hurt her so much?”

Her throat bobs. “She doesn’t even want to talk to me.”

“Maybe because it’s easier than admitting what she actually still feels for you.”

Vi lets out a shaky breath, running both hands through her hair now, tugging at the roots like it might pull the thoughts straight out of her head.

“Look… people don’t get that angry—don’t get that hurt—unless they still care,” he says quietly.

Jayce’s voice softens as he steps closer.

“She’s just scared, Vi.”

Vi opens her mouth to argue, to push back, but nothing comes out. She knows it’s true.

“She’s not gonna let anything else happen unless she believes you’re really here to stay.”

Her heart beats heavy in her chest, and she feels Jayce’s words on her shoulders. And to be honest, she’s scared, too. Scared to face everything she’s fucked up. Scared of making another stupid mistake. Like asking for more with you, telling you she loves you, when you weren’t even ready for it yet.

And maybe, just maybe, Jayce is right. Maybe she hasn’t lost you completely. Maybe she still has a chance.

Vi leans her head back against the wall, her eyes closing for a moment as she lets out a long, shaky breath.

“Just get your shit together, Vi. You can talk to her whenever you’re ready,” Jayce says, kicking himself off of the wall, dusting his jacket off. “And be honest. If you just give her some time, she’ll think it through… And I’m sure she’ll wanna talk to you about it… with whatever she decides.”

And for a moment, Vi looks at him, raising a curious eyebrow.

“You got all this from Mel, didn’t you?”

“Fuck you.”

Vi smirk and shakes her head, turning away to think for a moment.

Minutes of silence pass between them and Jayce begins to think about what might be going on in that head of hers. Vi can be reckless sometimes, for sure, but…

“I think… there’s something I wanna do first.”

Lately, your phone has been more like dead weight in your pocket than anything else. It vibrates, it chimes but you don’t check it. Not right away. Sometimes not at all. It’s easier that way. You just can’t. The screen lights up on the counter now, another message coming through, but you keep your eyes on the open book in front of you. You haven’t turned a page in ten minutes. The words blur together, the sentences dissolving into meaningless shapes, but you keep staring anyway.

You already know what’s waiting for you if you look.

Mel’s worried messages. Your mom’s reminders about dinner this weekend. And Vi—you don’t even want to see her name glowing on the screen.

Now you’re staring right at it. And you don’t even remember picking up your phone. But here you are.

The last message from her is still there: can we talk?

You never answered. It’s been days. Probably weeks. Time feels weird lately—slipping by too fast and too slow all at once. But that message lingers. Just like she always does. And fuck, you wish it didn’t. You wish Vi didn’t still take up so much space in your mind but she does.

And you know exactly why.

Because you still love her.

And that’s what makes all of this so much worse.

But what would you even say? That it still hurts? That you still think about her? That no matter how much you try to push her away, she’s still there in your mind, even when you told yourself time and time again that you’d forget about her.

Now, the days have started to blur together.

You wake up to the sound of your alarm, the same sound every morning but it still feels like a knife to your brain when your eyes flutter open. Just another day starting, just another reminder that you have to get up, have to keep moving. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, the sheets start to feel cold all over again—because there’s never anyone there to warm the other side.

You don’t think about it too much. Or at least, you tell yourself you don’t.

Then it’s the bookshop.

The same key turning in the lock, the same creak of the door as it opens, the same scent of pages and worn leather covers. You used to love it—still do, in a way—but the magic has dulled a little. Maybe it’s because you’re reminded of the way you started, when Vi was here to keep you company and help you out when the shop was just opening.

You water the plants by the front window, straighten the stacks of books people left behind in the wrong spots, flip the sign to Open. Some customers trickle in—a few regulars who smile politely, some who don’t even make eye contact—and you help them find what they need, ring them up, thank them for coming.

And then it’s quiet again.

You check the time too often. Tell yourself not to, but you do. And it’s always slower than you expect.

By the time you flip the sign again and lock the door, the sky is a dark. Streetlights buzz faintly above you as you walk home every evening, your bag slung over your shoulder, your thoughts too loud.

And then it’s back to your apartment.

The place is too still when you walk in. You kick off your shoes, drop your bag by the door, and stand there for a second too long like you’re waiting for something. But nothing happens.

You shower. Eat something—usually whatever takes the least effort. And then you crawl into bed, the sheets still cold. Your phone sits on the nightstand. You don’t look at it.

Then, you sleep.

And wake up.

And do it all over again.

And no matter how hard you try not to, you think about Vi.

It sneaks up on you, when the shop is quiet and the only sound is the soft flutter of a page turning, or when you’re lying in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, the space next to you too empty.

What is she doing? The question echoes in your head more often than you’d like.

Maybe she’s packing her things right now. Shoving worn tees and jeans into a duffel bag, zipping it up without a second glance, like it’s easy. Like it’s nothing. Maybe she’s already left—got on a bus or a plane, disappearing to some other big, fancy city.

She could. Vi could leave.

Maybe this time, though, it’s not about chasing a dream or a career. And maybe she’s finally too defeated to fight for you anymore. Maybe this was the moment she realized there’s nothing left to fight for. That she lost. That you’re gone.

But you were just protecting yourself, right? Weren’t you?

Sometimes, you’d think about asking Mel for some more advice.

You love her. You really do. She’s always been the voice of reason. But tonight, even though you know she’d pick up on the first ring, you don’t call her.

Because you already know what she’d say.

She’d sigh, probably a little exasperated but mostly concerned, and she’d tell you that you need to talk to Vi—really talk to her—because this silence, this distance, is only making it worse. She’d remind you that you still love Vi, that it’s obvious to everyone, that pushing her away hasn’t stopped that hurt in your chest or the way your thoughts circle back to her every damn night. She’d tell you that Vi is a mess without you.

You saw, peeking at one of her messages, that Jayce found her flat out drunk outside of a club one night.

And most of all, she’d tell you that you’re scared.

But, you know all of this already.

So you don’t call Mel.

You can lie to yourself about a lot of things. You can tell yourself that this distance is what you wanted. That you were the one who pushed her away, the one who set the rules, the one who told her no commitment—and that Vi was only ever following your lead.

But what you can’t lie about—not to yourself, not to anyone—is how much you miss her.

It’s a hard thing to admit, even when there’s no one around to hear it.

It means that no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise… you still love her.

The truth might be hardest part.

Because, deep down… all you’ve ever wanted was for Vi to be with you. Not just in pieces, not just in passing—but wholly, fully.

Maybe it’s time to be honest with yourself.

You’ve spent so long hiding behind the walls you built, pretending that the space between you and Vi was what you wanted. You told yourself it was for the best, that it was easier this way—no complications, no expectations, no getting hurt again. But you know for a fact that it’s all been a lie.

Because every time you push it away, every time you convince yourself it’s better to stay away, it only gets harder to ignore what you’re really feeling.

So, maybe it’s time to stop running from it. Maybe it’s time to stop pretending that you can move on when all your heart wants is to turn back, to let her back in.

Maybe you should be honest with Vi.

You owe it to yourself. You owe it to her. No matter how much you try to tell yourself otherwise, you know you can’t keep living like this… can’t keep hiding behind you r feelings. You’ve already spent years hurting yourself trying to ignore it.

And it might be terrifying. But for the first time in a long while, you wonder if maybe that’s the way forward—not hiding, not pretending, but facing what’s been there all along.

And maybe that’s why you’re standing outside of this club in the middle of the night, the cool air biting at your skin.

You didn’t even realize how you ended up here. It almost felt like an out-of-body experience. Your feet carried you here on their own. You didn’t plan it—hell, you didn’t even really want to come.

You called Jayce earlier, your voice shaky even though you tried to hide it. Just a simple question. Where’s Vi?

His response was almost too quick. He didn’t even seem surprised you were asking.

And now, here you are. Outside the club, standing out in the open, feeling like a fool.

What the hell are you doing here?

You don’t know if it’s courage or madness that brought you to this here, but now that you’re here, you feel a little paralyzed. There’s a lump in your throat, your hands cold as you wrap them around your arms for warmth. Your thoughts are racing, but they’re all tangled up. Should you go in? What if she’s not here? What if she sees you and walks away?

You could turn around and go home. You could pretend none of this ever happened, that you never came searching for her.

But, before you could even take a step forward towards the door, Vi stumbles out.

You freeze in place, your breath catching in your throat as you watch her. A cigarette dangles loosely between her lips, the smoke trailing behind her as she stumbles just a little. She’s not looking where she’s going, lost in whatever space she’s in, completely unaware of you standing there.

For a second, it almost feels like you shouldn’t be here. Like you shouldn’t even be watching her like this, as if you’ve caught some part of her that wasn’t meant for you to see. She looks… tired. Defeated, almost. And you’re left standing there, staring at her, your heart pounding in your chest like it’s going to break through your ribs.

Vi stops a few feet away, her hand fumbling with the cigarette, eyes still unfocused as she exhales a cloud of smoke. Then, finally, she looks up, and when her eyes meet yours, it’s like everything comes crashing back.

Her face softens just slightly. She doesn’t say anything right away, but the look in her eyes makes your heart race. She opens her mouth, as if to say something, but the words seem to die before they can leave her lips.

Vi takes a step toward you, then stops herself, like she’s unsure if she should. Her eyes flicker between you and the ground, her fingers twitching at her side as if she wants to reach out but can’t bring herself to. The cigarette is still hanging from her lips, now forgotten, burning down to nothing. She takes a long, slow drag from it and then finally tosses it to the ground, grinding it out beneath her boot with a soft sigh.

“Why are you here?”

She didn’t say it in a mean way… just… curious. And confused.

You look at her and answer honestly, quietly, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” she repeats.

You shake your head slowly, “I don’t.”

It’s true, though. You don’t really know why you’re here. Maybe it’s because you missed her. Maybe it’s because you don’t want to lose what little of her you still have left. Maybe it’s just the way your heart aches every time you think about her, every time you let yourself wonder if there’s a chance to make things right again.

Vi stares at you for a moment, her eyes searching, like she’s looking for something in your face that might give her an answer. And just when you think she’s about to pull away, retreating back into the walls she’s built around herself, she steps closer. Her hand rubs the back of her neck, that nervous habit of hers. She looks at you, then away, and you can tell she’s trying to figure out whether this is real or just a dream in her mind, watching it like it’s in front of her.

“I… don’t know what you want from me,” she says quietly.

You open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. Instead, you study her face. Her eyes look tired, a steady frown on her lips as she looks at you, dazed.

“Maybe, we should talk about this later…” you murmur softly. “When you’re sober.”

“I’m not drunk,” she says too quickly.

She opens her mouth again, but her words falter, as if she’s trying to convince herself more than you.

“I’m not—” she starts again, but her voice sounds quieter than before, and she trails off.

You sigh and take a step back, keeping the distance between you just enough to give her space, but not too far away to make her feel abandoned. For a brief moment, she looks like she wants to protest all over again, like she wants to tell you she’s fine, that she’s been through worse and this doesn’t bother her.

But instead, her eyes soften, just slightly. Her lips tighten, and she simply nods, though it’s a reluctant one.

You take a late bus ride home with her—back to that old neighborhood you both used to live in.

The bus ride felt like it stretched on forever, the city lights flickering past the window in flashes of neon and fading streetlamps but none of it mattered.

Not when Vi couldn’t take her eyes off of you.

She hadn’t said anything in the last few minutes. She didn’t know what to say. But her eyes were glued to you, tracing the soft curve of your profile as the light hit your face. She wanted to reach out, to touch you—her fingers aching for soft feel of your skin. She wanted to press her cheek against your shoulder, close her eyes, and breathe you in like she used to. The simple, familiar warmth of you against her. She wanted to hold your hand, to intertwine her fingers with yours, but the fear of rejection all over again kept her frozen in place.

So instead, she just stared.

Her eyes lingered on you, taking in every small detail, from the way your hair fell softly around your face to the way you absentmindedly tapped your fingers against your knee, to the way your lips press together tightly for a quick second whenever you were lost in thought. Everything about you felt so familiar, so desperately close, but so far out of reach.

When the bus finally pulled to a stop and you both got off, Vi still didn’t say anything.

The neighborhood looked the same as it always had, the houses standing like quiet sentinels on either side of the street, the trees lining the road, long shadows just beneath them.

She walked beside you, close, her steps almost too quiet. She couldn’t help herself—her eyes kept darting to you, taking in the way you held yourself, the way your shoulders shifted ever so slightly when you took each step.

And when you reach Vander’s house, Vi’s childhood home standing just in front of your mother’s, Vi felt her heart race again. She wanted to ask if you were okay, wanted to say something, to close the gap between the two of you.

But then you stop walking, just as your reach the end of Vi’s driveway, turning to look at her. Her eyes meet your immediately and you know for a fact that Vi didn’t want you or her to go anywhere.

“You should go,” you say politely, nodding your head towards the house behind her.

It wasn’t meant to push her away, not exactly, but you both knew how fragile things were between you at the moment, and you weren’t really sure what else to say. What else could you say?

But Vi didn’t move, didn’t take the step toward her front door like you had expected. She just stood there, staring at you, her face unreadable as she fidgeted with her hands, unsure of herself.

Finally, her voice cuts through, “Do you wanna come in?”

Vi’s voice trembled, just a little, as if she wasn’t sure whether she should have said it at all. Her eyes searched yours, looking for something—permission, maybe reassurance. It was so different from the confident, stubborn woman you’d once known.

A hundred things flashed through your mind in an instant: the memories of Vi in this house, her old bedroom—laughing, arguing, falling asleep on her couch, her bed with her arm around your shoulders, the sound of her voice soft in the dark.

But all those thoughts felt so far away now, like a dream you could barely reach.

“Maybe not tonight,” you whispered.

She nods.

Not tonight. Vi tries to study your face, like she wasn’t sure what your words meant. But her gaze softened, and the slight tremble in her hand betrayed how much this moment mattered to her, how much she needed something—anything—from you.

She take a breath before muttering, “I miss you.”

Those three words were almost enough to knock the breath out of you.

Vi waited, her eyes never leaving yours. She stood there offering something you still weren’t sure you could take—or something you weren’t sure you should take.

You shook your head, the concern rising again, but your heart already knew the answer.

“You’re drunk, Violet,” you whisper softly, not wanting to be harsh, but—

“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean I don’t miss you,” she said.

Your breath hitched in your throat, the distance between you closing with every word she spoke. Maybe it was the way she looked at you. Maybe it was the fact that you missed her too.

But still, you hesitated, unsure of what to say back.

“Vi…” you started, but the words didn’t come easily, and you could see the way she stiffened, like she was bracing for the rejection she expected.

Her eyes softened and she sighed, before taking a step back, giving you some space.

She nods again.

“When I’m sober,” she says.

“Yeah…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi’s looking at you, waiting, her breath uneven, her hands twitching at her sides like she wants to grab you, pull you in, make you understand. But all you can do is swallow the lump in your throat and try to call yourself, even though your heart seems to be pounding so loudly in your chest.

You nod your head towards her house again. “You should go in—”

“You first.”

You sigh, already knowing Vi won’t budge. It was familiar.

Back in high school, after nights when she’d take you out on a date, take you home after some school dance or game, whatever it was, she always made sure you got home safely, watching you outside of her own house as you stepped into yours. And it’s only when she sees the door shut after you when she finally turns on her heel and goes home.

“Can I call you?” she asks, just as you turn to walk away.

You stop. Your heart skips, and you let out a soft breath before turning halfway, catching the way she’s already bracing herself for a no.

Buy you look back at her and smile softly, “When you’re sober?”

The corner of Vi’s mouth twitches, but the smile never really makes it, “Yeah.”

Your game lingers on her for a moment, watching as she stuffs her hands into the pocket a off her jacket.

“Goodnight, Violet.”

You don’t look back this time. You just keep walking, the night quiet except for the soft scuff of your shoes against the pavement as you head towards the house a cross the street.

Vi stays frozen at the edge of her driveway, watching your silhouette disappear behind the front door of your old house.

Three days pass since you same her that night. Watching her stand there, half-dazed from the alcohol, eyes tracing, trying to memorize each and every detail of you.

You wondered if she remembered. Did she? Or did she wake up, head pounding, wondering how she even got home?

You try not to think about it, but you really can’t help it. You can’t stop the thoughts that slip into your mind. You wonder if she’s forgotten about it. If she’s forgotten about you.

But a big part of your heart doesn’t let you believe that.

You know it’s a foolish thought, it’s hard not to think about. You wish she’d call. Just to hear her voice, even if it’s only for a minute.

Then, she does.

It’s late when your phone buzzes, and the sound startles you. You’ve been lying in bed for what feels like hours. You’re not sure what you were expecting tonight, but it certainly wasn’t this. Not at this hour.

When you glance at the screen, your heart skips a beat.

You stare at the name for a moment.

It’s been three days. Three silent days. Your thumb hovers over the screen, uncertain, as if maybe it’s some mistake. Maybe it’s just some fluke, a wrong number or a dream.

But it’s her name.

Your thumb is already swiping across the screen, and before you know it, you’re answering, “Hello?”

It’s quiet for a moment on the other end, and you wonder if she’s second-guessing this, if she’s having the same hesitations you did before she called. You can almost hear her breathing, like she’s trying to find the right thing to say.

“Hey,” she says.

You sit up in bed, your eyes closing as you press the phone closer to your ear.

“Sorry, I know it’s late…”

You swallow, your mouth dry. “It’s okay.”

“I… I’m sober,” she lets out a shaky breath.

You can’t help but smile softly. She remembered.

“That’s good, Vi.”

She sighs on the other end.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot… but…” She hesitates, “I… I want to talk about it in person.”

In person.

“When?” you say nervously.

“Uh, can you come by Vander’s tomorrow? After work? I-If you’re working, I mean. Or whichever day you’re free.” Her voice is soft, nervous, like she’s afraid you’d say no.

You nod to yourself, though she can’t see you. Your heart races as you say quietly, “I’ll go after I close the shop.”

“Yeah… okay.”

There’s another pause, and then Vi’s voice comes through again, quieter than before.

“I miss you.”

You probably shouldn’t say it, but you do anyway.

“Me too.”

On the other end of the line, Vi lies flat on her back in her childhood bedroom, the phone pressed tight against her ear, her free hand draped over her face as if that could somehow hide the flush creeping up her neck. She’s staring at the ceiling—at the faint cracks in the paint, the old band posters she put up when she was seventeen, the ones she never bothered to take down. It smells the same in here, but now with the faint scent of the cigarettes she now smokes outside but somehow still manages to drag in with her.

Her heart is racing and it almost feels stupid, how nervous she is, how her whole body feels like it’s buzzing, like she’s back in high school, lying in this exact room, talking to you on the phone late into the night, whispering so Vander wouldn’t hear that she’s awake past midnight.

And Vi swears her heart stumbles in her chest when she hears your voice, her hand dragging down her face. She’s blushing—full-on red as a damn tomato—and it’s so ridiculous that she actually closes her eyes, biting back a smile, because it’s you. It’s always been you.

Her voice is quieter now, rough but tender, the words slipping out before she can think too hard about them.

“Really?” She asks softly, the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Your cheeks instantly get hot and your clear your throat before quickly saying, “See you tomorrow.”

The line goes dead before she can even get a word out.

And then, Vi smiles.

The soft beep of the call ending echoes through her room, and for a second, she just lies there, blinking at the ceiling, the phone still in her hand. Then, she drops the phone onto her chest. You blushed. She heard it in your voice, before you hung up so quick.

She’s nervous. And she can only hope everything she planned, goes well.

The sky is a deep orange when you close up shop and start your walk towards Vander’s bar. The air is warm but it was cooling fast, a breeze slipping beneath your jacket and brushes against your bare legs.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing here when you arrive, outside of The Last Drop, just staring at the worn sign hanging above the door, just like you did the time Vi asked you to come on Benzo’s birthday. The neon letters are bright against the brick wall, hanging just above the door.

You tug your jacket a little tighter around your shoulders, the simple dress beneath it fluttering lightly with the wind. It’s nothing fancy—you told yourself you didn’t dress up for this. Didn’t want to. That you wouldn’t. But there’s still a small part of you that combed through your closet this morning for something just nice, pretty enough—something Vi might notice anyway.

The street is mostly empty, just a few people lingering further down, the occasional sound of a car passing by. The bar’s windows glow dimly from the inside, soft lights spilling out onto the sidewalk, but it’s quiet—just a bit early for the late night crowd.

And from where you’re standing, you can’t tell if Vi is even here.

You swallow, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, biting the inside of your cheek as your eyes stay fixed on the door. It would be so easy to turn around, walk back the way you came, head home to your apartment and pretend you never came here at all.

But your feet don’t move. You promised yourself that you’d be brave. And honest.

So, you step in.

The door creaks softly as you push it open, and the scent of old wood and faint cigarette smoke wafts over you. The bar is quieter than you expected—just a few regulars hunched over their drinks, the clink of glasses and the low hum of some rock song playing through the crackling speakers filling the room.

Vander’s behind the bar, wiping down a glass with a rag, his broad frame taking up space behind the counter just as you remember. His beard’s a little grayer now, but his eyes still looked the same—the kind that always made you feel welcome, even on the nights when you and Vi would stumble in after one of your countless fights after school, both of you pretending you hadn’t just spent the walk here arguing, bantering, even though he knew that you’d make up an hour later.

The door swings shut behind you with a soft thud, and Vander’s head lifts at the sound.

“Hi, Vander,” you greet.

“Welcome back,” he says with a smile. “Vi’s out back. Had her help with some of the new supplies that came in today.”

You manage a small smile, tugging your jacket a little closer around yourself, unsure what to say. But you don’t have to, because before you can even open your mouth, Vander’s already turning, peeking his head into the small kitchen behind the bar.

“Vi!” he calls out.

Your heart jumps.

A clatter sounds from the back; a faint curse, something heavy being set down and then there’s the sound of footsteps, slow at first, then quicker, like she was rushing.

And all you can do is stand there, staring at the kitchen door, bracing yourself for the moment she walks through it.

The kitchen door swings open just enough for Vi to peek out, her shoulder braced against the frame, and the moment her gaze lands on you, standing there, soft and still and backlit by the dim glow of the bar lights—her heart skips.

Her hair is a mess, unruly and half-falling out of the loose, low, short ponytail she must’ve tied back hours ago. There’s a smear of flour or maybe grease across her forearm, and her knuckles are dusted with something dark—soot from the ancient stove, probabl—and for a second, Vi’s painfully aware of how she must look. Like she just climbed out of a fight with the kitchen itself.

And then there’s you.

Vi’s lips part—not because she knows what to say, but because she doesn’t. She just stares for a beat too long, her chest rising and falling a little too fast, her fingers tightening around the edge of the doorframe.

“Uh…” She finally says, like it had to fight its way out of her throat.

Her brain’s moving too slow—still caught somewhere between how pretty you look and how completely unprepared she suddenly feels.

You don’t say anything yet. Just look at her with those wide, unreadable eyes—the ones that always made her feel like you could see right through her. Vi swallows. Her free hand rakes through her hair, trying to smooth it down, but it only makes the strands stick up more, and she curses softly under her breath. You smile just a little and it’s enough to knock the air right out of her lungs.

Vi’s voice cracks just a little when she stammers, “O-One sec. Let me get my things.”

Then, before you can respond, she disappears back into the kitchen like she’s running from a fire.

You hear a clatter again—something metal hitting the floor. There’s a shuffle of movement, the sound of a zipper being yanked too hard, and then Vi’s voice again, muffled: “Shit—where the hell—”

You stand there, still, your fingers idly brushing the hem of your jacket as Vander watches from behind the bar with an amused smirk, wiping down another glass. The warm hum of the bar seems distant—the soft chatter of conversations, the scrape of a chair against the floor but all you can really focus on is the faint noise of Vi scrambling around in the back.

She’s nervous. You’ve known her long enough to tell.

And you are too.

When Vi reappears, she’s breathless—hair still a little disheveled, but free from they messy, low pony she had on earlier, cheeks a little flushed—but she’s shed the dirty apron, now holding a leather jacket in one hand and shoving her phone into her back pocket with the other. Her boots scuff against the floor as she stops just short of you, swallowing hard.

“Okay,” she says, like she’s still catching up to the moment. Then, with a quick glance down at herself—like she’s realizing, too late, that she still smells faintly of smoke and whatever the hell she was cooking back there—Vi clears her throat. “Uh… ready.”

You blink at her, tilting your head slightly. “Are we going somewhere?”

Vi’s eyes widen and for a split second, she looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, right! Y-Yeah,” she stutters, the words tripping over themselves. Her gaze darts to the window, like she’s only just noticing how the sky outside has deepened from soft orange to dusky purple, the last light of the sun slipping away. “I… I wanted to show you something.”

She doesn’t elaborate.

Your lips part slightly, a question at the tip of your tongue—but you don’t ask. Not yet.

Instead, you watch as Vi fiddles with the zipper of her leather jacket, her fingers twitchy and restless. She keeps stealing glances at you when she thinks you’re not looking and then drop to the way your dress falls around your legs, soft and simple, before she hastily looks away again like she’s scolding herself.

She’s nervous. It’s endearing.

You smile gently, adjusting your jacket over your shoulders, and let the silence stretch just a little longer—enough to make Vi’s throat bob as she swallows hard.

“Is it far?” you ask softly, finally breaking the silence.

Vi’s gaze snaps back to yours. “Its, uh, a bit of a drive… but not too far. Promise.”

You give her another small smile and nod. “Okay.”

Relief flashes across Vi’s face so quickly you almost miss it. She steps back, motioning toward the door with a jerk of her chin.

“Come on,” she says. “It’s better if I just show you.”

Vi leads you through the back door of the bar, her hand hovering near the small of your back but never quite touching, like she wants to guide you but thinks better of it at the last second. It’s a bit colder outside now, the heat slipping away into a soft breeze.

Her truck is parked there, a beat-up thing that looks like it’s seen better days—faded red paint, a dent in the front bumper, a sticker peeling off the back window. Just like you remember. And without a word, Vi steps ahead, pulling open the passenger side door for you. You climb in, the worn leather seat creaking softly under you, and Vi closes the door carefully, before roundjng the truck and jogging over to the driver’s side.

There’s a beat of silence got a moment—just the two of you sitting there. Then Vi reaches forward, twisting the key in the ignition. The truck starts, and the radio clicks on—low music filtering through her old speakers, some soft, indie song you don’t recognize. And it’s quiet enough that you can still hear Vi’s shaky breath as she shifts into gear and pulls out of the lot.

The drive is silent, for the most part.

You steal a glance at Vi, the way her fingers flex around the steering wheel, her thumb tapping against it. Her jaw is tight, her left knee bouncing ever so slightly.

She’s nervous. Extremely.

She hasn’t looked at you once since you got in the truck. Not directly. But her knuckles are white where they grip the wheel, and you can tell—she’s thinking about you.

“You okay?” you ask softly, not because you don’t know the answer, but because you want to hear her say something.

Vi’s fingers tighten around the wheel.

“Yeah,” she says too quickly. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Thinking.

You don’t ask about what.

Instead, you just turn your gaze back to the road ahead, watching as the lights of the town blur past. The road twists and turns as Vi drives, the town slowly fading behind, buildings growing fewer. The truck hums along, the music still playing softly through the speakers, though neither of you has said much since you left the bar.

You glance at Vi again, at the way her fingers grip the wheel, her jaw working like she’s chewing on a thousand words but swallowing every last one. She’s tense, sure, but there’s something kind of bright in her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s holding back a smile.

You begin to wonder now—Where are we going?

But then… you start to notice the way the road curves just so. The familiar slope of the hill you know all too well. The buildings growing further and further now in the rearview mirror, until there’s nothing left but open sky and that long, winding road that stretches upward on the hill.

There’s no way, you think.

But… you can see it from here now.

That old drive-in movie theater at the top of the hill, long abandoned but still standing. The massive, weathered screen towers above the lot, cracked and peeling but somehow still proud. Rows of broken, overgrown parking spaces stretch out before it, grass pushing through the cracks in the ground.

It’s exactly the same. Older. But the same.

And suddenly, you remember the nights spent here, years ago—sneaking in after hours when the place had already shut down, lying on the hood of Vi’s old car, watching the stars instead of whatever movie was playing, because Vi could never really sit still long enough to actually watch anything… especially with you there next to her.

It was the first date she took you on, after years of growing up together, secretly crushing on each other, after finally confessing to you when sophomore year had barely started. She took you here, soon after Vander had gifted her the truck on her sixteenth birthday. She saved up for weeks, trying to make it all perfect, grabbing dinner at that pizza place you like, picking flowers in some random field after band practice and giving it to you when she finally mustered up the courage to ask you out. You remember the way she’d steal glances at you instead of the screen—the way her fingers would twitch like she wanted to touch you but didn’t know if she should. The way she’d finally work up the courage, lacing her pinky with yours, cheeks flushed even in the dark. You kissed her here for the first time, surprising her, and not only did Vi fall more in love with you, she fell in love with kissing you.

And now—here you are again.

Vi pulls the truck into the middle of the lot, the perfect spot for a good view of the screen, before cutting the engine.

Silence.

The sound of the radio dies, leaning only the distant chirp of crickets and the faint whisper of the wind through the grass.

Vi’s fingers are still curled around the steering wheel, like she’s gathering the courage to let go.

Finally, she clears her throat.

“I, uh… I thought we could—” She stops, shakes her head, then tries again. “I just… I used to bring you here all the time, remember?”

Her voice is quiet. Tentative.

You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of your jacket.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I remember.”

Vi lets out a shaky breath, her thumb still tapping nervously against the steering wheel.

“I thought this place shut down a couple years ago,” you say, looking out the window.

In fact, you knew it did. You came here from time to time, while you and Vi were still dating—while you were here, and she was off far away chasing her dream. You’d come here alone from time to time when you were missing her, maybe in between months to watch a movie to pretend she was with you. You liked doing that.

But, the people who ran this place decided to shut it down, you heard. Bad business. Less and a less people coming. Not enough money coming in to keep this place running.

Your heart broke with it.

“It looks clean,” you say, eyes scanning what looked liked freshly cut grass and no sight of trash littered across the field.

Vi clears her throat before speaking again.

“I… I actually spent a few weeks getting this place fixed up,” she says quietly, glancing at you nervously.

Your heart skip another beat.

“You… What?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

She shifts in her seat, her thumb still twitching against the wheel, a nervous habit you recognize all too well. Her other hand scrubs at the back of her neck, and you catch the faintest hint of red creeping up from her collar, disappearing beneath the jacket she’s wearing.

“I, uh… yeah,” she mumbles, eyes darting to the dark screen towering above you both, the massive structure still cracked and weathered but now oddly… clean. Cleared of the overgrown vines and layers of grime that once clung to it like a second skin.

Vi lifts her gaze back to you, “I figured I could fix it up.”

You blink at her.

And she clears her throat again.

“Ekko, Steb, Loris… even Jayce. They all helped. Took a couple weeks to clean the place up. Three days just this week to make sure everything was working—” She stops herself, clears her throat. “The projector, I mean. It’s old, but… we got it running again.”

Your mouth opens—then closes.

Because suddenly, it’s so clear.

The smudges of grease on Vi’s fingers when she rushed out of the kitchen earlier tonight. The faint streak of dirt on her shirt. The way she kept checking the sky, the time—so desperate to get you here after the sun completely set.

She’d been working on this for you.

Your throat feels tight.

“You did all of this?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” she breathes, nodding nervously. “I just… I wanted to bring you back here. I thought maybe… we could talk here. And it’s quiet, so...”

She laughs softly—bitterly, almost.

“Or, y’know… we don’t have to talk, if you want. We could just sit here. Stare at the screen. Like we used to.”

Your chest aches.

Because Vi isn’t just showing you this place—this isn’t just about an old drive-in movie theater. It’s about all the time she lost, all the ways she’s trying to piece something back together. She’s standing in the ruins of what you once had, and instead of walking away… she’s trying to build something new.

For you.

You swallow hard, fingers tightening around the edge of your jacket as you glance back at the screen, the rows of parking spots, the cleared out grass—everything Vi touched, cleaned, and fixed looking back at her.

“Vi…” you whisper, but you don’t know what to say.

The smile tugs at your lips before you can stop it.

You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring at each other until you quietly say, “Can you put a movie on?”

It takes Vi a second to notice—like she wasn’t expecting it—but when she finally turns her head and really looks at you, her own smile creeps up slow. It’s tentative at first, like she’s afraid to let herself feel too much, but then it grows brighter and wider, spreading across her face until her dimples flash like she’s suddenly seventeen again, sitting in front of you with a heart too full to control.

“Y-Yeah,” she stammers, the excitement in her voice is clear—impossible to hide. “Yeah—uh, just gimme a sec.”

And then she’s moving—quickly, almost tripping over her own feet in her rush to get out of the truck. She doesn’t even bother closing the door properly, leaving it cracked open as she jogs across the lot, her jacket nearly slipping off one shoulder as she reaches the small booth tucked at the back of the theater—the projector room.

You watch her climb up the short set of metal stairs—two at a time—before fumbling with the old lock on the door, muttering something to herself when it sticks for a moment. She manages to shove it open with a rough push of her shoulder, disappearing inside.

For a moment, it’s quiet.

Then, after a few seconds, a faint flicker of light appears on the blank screen in front of you.

You lean back in the seat, your heart still beating a little too fast, watching as the screen brightens as the picture starts to settle. A movie starts—and you smile, shaking your head as the music fills your ears before anything else. Star Wars: A New Hope.

And a few seconds later, Vi comes sprinting back—slightly breathless, a wide grin plastered across her face as she throws herself back into the driver’s seat.

The iconic opening is already rolling, those bold yellow letters floating through the starry sky, the score blasting through the old speakers Vi must’ve rigged back to life.

You remember the way she used to kiss you during the this movie. How she’d slip her hand into yours when Leia appeared, saying something cheesy like, “You’re prettier than her,” and you’d roll your eyes, laughing—but your heart would race, and you’d kiss her in the cheek anyway.

You smile again.

And Vi notices.

“What?” she asks, a little shy, like she’s bracing herself for you to tease her.

You shake your head, still smiling, eyes glued to the screen. “Nothing.”

But Vi doesn’t look away—not right away.

She keeps watching you, like you’re the only thing worth watching tonight.

The movie plays on, echoing softly through the speakers Vi must’ve dragged out here, though the sound’s a little scratchy, like it’s crackling at the edges. But it doesn’t really matter. Neither of you are really watching it anyway.

You can feel Vi’s gaze drift toward you every few minutes—like she’s checking, like she’s still waiting, like she’s terrified this might all be too much, too soon. But she doesn’t say anything.

It really is quiet up here, like she said—no passing cars, no city noise—just the wind brushing through the grass and the soft hum of the projector behind you.

You pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself.

And then you glance at Vi.

She’s watching the screen—or at least pretending to—but her jaw is tight, her lips pressed together, like she’s biting back words. You can tell she wants to say something, the way her knee won’t stop bouncing, the way her hand keeps flexing against her thigh, like she’s thinking about reaching for yours but doesn’t dare.

So you speak first.

“Why’d you fix this place up?” you ask softly.

Vi blinks. She looks at you for a long moment, mouth parting—but nothing comes out at first.

“I… I don’t know,” she admits, running a hand through her hair—messing it up even more, if that’s possible. “I just… I remembered you saying you used to come here.”

She glances away for a moment.

“I know I wasn’t always… there. Back then.” Her jaw clenches, struggling to find the right words. “But I remembered you telling me how you’d come here sometimes—when I was on the road. After we broke up, I was on a call with dad and heard that it got shut down.”

You swallow, hard.

“I guess… I just wanted to fix it. Make it… I don’t know. Make it something good again. For you.”

You remember those nights. The ones where Vi wouldn’t call, or would miss your texts—too busy chasing the dream you told her you were proud of, even if it meant you were left behind.

You clear your throat, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “Vi…”

She shakes her head quickly, like she doesn’t want you to say anything.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything,” she mumbles.

Her gaze drops to her lap.

Silence again.

But before you can stop yourself, your hand moves until your fingers brush against Vi’s on the seat between you. Just a light touch. Just enough to let her know you heard her.

Vi’s breath hitches in her throat. She doesn’t look at you—but she doesn’t move her hand away either.

The movie rolls on, the light flickering on the screen softly, and uneven shadows dance across Vi’s face. Your fingers are still there, resting lightly against hers—not quite holding her hand, but not pulling away either.

Vi hasn’t moved. Hasn’t even dared to breathe too loud.

She’s still nervous. You can feel it in the way her knee keeps bouncing, in the way her thumb twitches, like she wants so badly to close the distance and link her fingers with yours.

But she doesn’t. She stays there, still as a statue, letting you set the pace.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye.

She’s not watching the movie anymore—hasn’t been for a while. Her gaze is fixed on the screen, sure, but you can tell by the way her eyebrows twitch slightly, by the way her lips press into a thin line, that her head is somewhere else entirely.

She’s thinking about you. You know her too well. She’s overthinking, pulling herself apart, wondering if all of this was too much.

She thinks you might pull away any second now.

So you don’t.

You shift slightly in your seat, letting your pinky finger loop gently around hers. It’s barely anything but Vi notices immediately. Her body goes stiff for a second. Then, slowly, she moves her hand—just enough to let her pinky hook back around yours.

It’s almost nothing.

But to Vi, it’s everything.

She lets out a shaky breath, like she’s been holding it in for too long, and finally dares to look at you.

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna show up today,” she admits, “After… the other night.”

You hear the words inside of your head again. I love you.

You swallow the lump in your throat and speak softly, your finger still hooked with hers.

“I told you I’d see you tomorrow,” you say.

Vi’s lips twitch once more, but there’s still a question in her eyes, like she’s waiting for you to reject her all over again.

Like she’s still afraid you’re going to run.

And maybe a part of you is still afraid too.

The movie continued to fade into the background. You shift a little, the leather seat creaking softly as you move. Your pinky was still hooked around hers, but the rest of your hand stayed still. Waiting for something from her.

It was too quiet now. Neither of you looked at each other. Vi’s chest tightened with the silence. Her fingers fidgeted where they rested against the seat as she thought about how much she wanted to say but didn’t know how. She wasn’t sure if it was too late, or if you’d even believe her if she told you how much she still loved you, how much she regretted everything that had happened between you both.

Then, the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. Vi’s heart skipped a beat as soon as she said it, and she immediately regretted the rush.

“I’m leaving the record label,” she blurted out.

You stopped and turned your head to look at her.

“What?”

She couldn’t bring herself to look at you, her eyes glued to the screen ahead, even though she was barely watching. Her other hand curled into a fist over her lap. She hadn’t planned on telling you this way. She wanted to ease into it more. And she wasn’t ready for this conversation—hell, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready—but now that it was out, it was impossible to ignore.

Vi sighs, her mind racing. It had been a decision she’d been turning over for the past year, before coming back here, before seeing you again, something she’d thought about while staring at the ceiling of her hotel room, when the loneliness finally sank in. She was done with it. The constant demands, the fake smiles, the busy schedules. She was done pretending. Done with the things that had pulled her away from everything that had once mattered.

And that included you.

“It’s just… it’s not what I thought it was.” She says, voice shaking as she spoke.

Vi finally turns her head, just enough to catch a glimpse of you, though she wasn’t sure if she could hold your gaze yet.

“I’m tired of it,” she breathes.

She was tired of being someone she wasn’t sure she recognized anymore. The pressure. The distance. The mistakes. The demands. Constantly touring. Strict deadlines for recording and making music. Promotions. Events. She was tired of pretending she was fine with drowning in the endless work, tired of feeling like she was losing herself more every day, when all she ever wanted was to make music and play it with her best friends.

Her knuckles whitened, clenching her fist hard.

“I didn’t realize how much I was… letting go of until it was too late,” Vi continued, her voice dropping, vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to. “I let everything else slip through my fingers. And you—”

Her throat tightened, and she cut herself off, shaking her head, her breath catching in the back of her throat.

“I was so focused on everything else, I didn’t even notice… I didn’t even notice how far I was from you.”

She wasn’t sure what she expected, if anything. Maybe she was just hoping to get it out, to let you know she wasn’t the same person anymore, that she was ready to change. Ready to fight for what really mattered. For you.

“Violet,” you say softly. “You love the band…”

Vi’s smile was soft as she looked over at you. She let out a breath, shaking her head.

“I do, yeah… but…” She trailed off, her eyes flitting to the dashboard as if the answers were hiding somewhere in the worn leather seats.

“I’m not quitting the band… I don’t want to do that any time soon and I didn’t think you’d want me to do that either,” she added, running a hand through her hair. “But I’m tired of the way things are going. The stuff we have to do… It’s not fun anymore.”

She let out another deep breath, her eyes briefly meeting yours again.

“I want a place where we’re not being told what to do, where we can just… make music and play what we want,” Vi smiled a little again, more to herself than to you, as if she was starting to believe it herself. “I guess… I just need to find a label that’s willing to let us have more freedom, you know?”

“What does the band think?” you ask her. After all, they did sign to a major label—you know it won’t be smooth sailing if they quit. But a part of you also knows how popular the band is, how big they’ve gotten, how successful they are, and that if this happens, people are still going to want to listen to them anyway.

“Yeah, they’re on board,” Vi smiles.

She was scared, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. Her eyes found their way back to the screen, the flashing lights of the movie scenes dancing across her face, but… she couldnt think about anything else.

“And I also… I wanna be closer to you,” Vi whispered, almost as if she wasn’t sure she even had the right to say it.

Her lips pressed together. She was nervous again.

The truth was, she didn’t know how to make you believe her. How to make you see that she wasn’t the same person who had let you go before.

That this time, she wanted you. All of you.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, “I-I mean… T-There’s a record label I’ve been looking at. I-It’s independent, and it’s just several hours away, but it’s closer than New York and Ekko and I were already thinking about setting up a studio here at home so—I-If it works out, we’ll just finish our contract and move right after… Besides—”

She’s rambling.

After a minute of talking out of her nerves, her gaze flickered toward you again, against her better judgment, and for a split second, her heart stuttered in her chest.

You looked… perfect. Beautiful. So much more than she remembered, and yet so familiar, like she was coming home.

Fuck, she thought. You look so pretty.

Vi immediately turned her head back to the screen, suddenly feeling the heat spreading across her cheeks. She wanted to look at you again, to let herself drink you in, but she was scared. It was easier to look away, to focus on the movie in front of her. But she couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every little thing about you—your laugh, you smile, the feeling of your hand against hers—was driving her crazy.

She sneaked another glance anyway, this time a little longer, though she quickly darted her eyes away again when she realized how easily her breath hitched. You weren’t even doing anything, just sitting there, your gaze soft on the screen, yet everything about you felt so magnetic to her. It was hard to ignore, harder still to pretend that she wasn’t still in love with you.

“I spent a lot of time trying to forget about you, you know.”

For a second, Vi wasn’t sure if she had heard you correctly.

But she could hear the honesty in your voice. And suddenly, she wished more than anything that she could take all of that pain away. That she could erase the hurt she had caused, make it right. She wanted to apologize, wanted to explain everything she had never said, but the words felt stuck in her throat.

You turned your head slowly, and though she couldn’t see your face clearly, she knows that tears were threatening to spill.

“I spent so long convincing myself I was okay without you,” you continued. “I told myself I was fine… and for a while, I believed it. I really did.”

Vi’s heart twisted painfully as you spoke. It was hard to hear, but at the same time, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“But no matter how much I tried to push it all down, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Sometimes, I wondered if we could ever go back to the way we were.”

You turned your head away, trying to hide the tears that found their way down your cheeks.

“I figured you’d forget about me too… that you were out there living your dream already… and that you didnt need me anymore.”

“You’re wrong.”

Vi’s heart raced as she quickly scooted closer to you, the long seat in her truck creaking slightly, like she couldn’t wait another second to close the distance between you.

Her hand hovered over yours for a split second, then laced her fingers with yours. She pulled your hand into her lap, her hands big, warm and rough—the same way they’ve always felt before. Vi stared down at your intertwined hands, her thumb tracing the soft curve of your knuckles, over and over again, as though she was trying to memorize the feeling of your skin. She couldn’t look at you just yet; her gaze was fixed on your joined hands, touching you, holding you.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated, her words spilling out, desperate for you to hear her, to believe her. “I never stopped needing you. Never stopped wanting you.”

She swallowed hard, shaking her head.

“I thought about you every day,” she whispered.

Vi didn’t look at you as she spoke—her eyes still fixed on your hands, her thumb continuing to trace small circles over your skin.

“I thought about all the things I’d do right the next time… if I got the chance. All the ways I’d be better for you.”

Her fingers tightened just slightly around yours, pulling you a little closer. Her side was pressed against yours, but even then, she wanted to be closer.

“I also wondered if you found someone else. Someone who’d be there for you the way I wasn’t,” she said, smiling sadly at the thought. “It’s been three years since I saw you so… I don’t know. That’s a long time and I…”

Always thought it was too late.

Her head dropped, chin tilting slightly downward, as she let out a shaky breath, trying to keep herself from falling apart. There was so much regret, so much pain for the time she had wasted, for the distance that had grown between the two of you.

“When I saw you at the wedding… All the bullshit I’ve been running through my head, all the walls I’ve put up… they just… disappeared,” she said, eyes shifting to meet yours for just a moment. “And all I could think was, ‘I’ve wasted so much time. I’ve been so stupid.’”

Her breath was shallow, unsteady, as she ran her thumb back and forth over your skin. She wanted to make you feel safe, wanted you to feel the sincerity in her touch, the way she wanted to be close to you.

“You deserve more than… than everything I gave you,” Vi sniffles quietly. “I wasn’t ready then, but I’m ready now.”

She squeezed your hand slightly, to reassure herself that you were here, that you hadn’t let go, that you were still holding onto her.

Her thumb continued its slow path over your knuckles.

“You’re my dream, too.”

Her chest feels tight as she says it.

“And if you don’t want this with me… that’s okay,” Vi says softly, though her voice cracks at the end.

She stares straight ahead, at the flickering lights of the drive-in screen now, though she’s still not really watching the movie.

“I just… I want you to know it’s not about what I want. It’s about what you want. If being close to me again—if it hurts too much… then I get it. I swear, I do.”

Vi’s grip on your hand loosens, hesitant, like she’s preparing herself to let go. Her heart is racing, her stomach twisting. She’s trying to be strong, to give you space, but the truth is, the thought of losing you again—this time for good—is tearing her apart piece by piece.

“I want to be happy… and if you think you can’t be that with me, I’ll understand.”

And finally, Vi turns her head just enough to look at you, her eyes glassy. But she doesn’t push. She doesn’t beg.

She waits.

Tears slip down your cheeks before you can stop them.

It hurts. God, it hurts.

Without thinking, you move closer and lean your head against Vi’s shoulder, tucking your face near the curve of her neck. You feel her go still beneath you, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe, as if one wrong move might br the reason you pull away from her again.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble against her neck, your voice breaking somewhere in the middle.

And then the tears come harder. Your shoulders tremble, and you try to keep it together, but it’s useless.

Vi’s heart is pounding—you can feel it beneath the fabric of her t-shirt. She doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t shift or fidget. She doesn’t want to. She just stays frozen, her fingers still loosely laced with yours in her lap, her thumb still now, resting against your knuckles like she’s forgotten how to do anything but sit there and let herself feel you this close.

She stares straight ahead at the drive-in screen, but it only blurred in her vision. All she can think about is you. Your head against her shoulder. The brush of your hair against her neck. The way your arm grazes hers, how your hand is still in hers, even as your shoulders tremble with silent tears.

Vi closes her hand a little more firmly around yours. Your soft, broken sobs are barely more than a whisper against her shoulder, but to her, they’re louder than the movie, louder than her own heart pounding in her chest.

Slowly, her gaze drifts down to your tangled hand resting in her lap, to the way your knuckles look small in her rough, calloused palm.

She remembers how many times she’s held your hand like this before—when you were both younger, when things were simpler. She remembers pulling you through the halls in school, in her house, on dates, lacing your fingers together on long drives with the windows down, slipping her hand into yours just because she could—because back then, she didn’t have to wonder if you’d let her.

Her thumb brushes over your knuckles again before she squeezes your hand softly. And then, hesitantly, Vi lifts your hand from her lap, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she brings it closer. Her lips graze the back of your hand as she kisses you there, just barely. Her mouth stays for a moment longer than it should, her breath warm against your skin, and when she finally pulls away, her hand still holds yours, cradling it carefully like its something she’s scared of breaking.

“Violet,” you whisper again.

Vi’s head snaps up instantly in a panic, worried you’ll pull away from her soon.

But you don’t.

You’re still there, still leaning into her, your face close enough that she can see the faint trail of tears drying on your cheeks, the way your lips tremble, the way your eyes are focused on her, and only her.

“Yeah?” She breathes.

You don’t say anything right away.

But carefully, you let your other hand move upwards, your fingertips brush along her jaw, so softly, and Vi swears she forgets how to breathe. Her skin is warm beneath your hand as your thumb gently ghosts over the scar that cuts through her the tattoo on her cheek—the one that spells out her name. She leans into it instinctively, like she’s starved for the feeling of you, like she’s afraid this might be the last time you’ll ever touch her like this.

Her eyes flutter shut for just a second before they open again, and now she’s not staring at the screen or at your hands.

She’s staring at you.

Vi’s breath hitches. Her eyes fall shut for a moment, the feeling of your soft skin against hers comforting her in a way she hasn’t felt in years.

“I think I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” you say.

Vi feels the walls she’s been building around herself start to crack, just a little. She’s so close to breaking, but she’s scared. Scared of what this means, scared of how much she still needs you, how much she’s missed you.

You continue, quietly. Nervously. “I panicked because I… I was scared of repeating the same things that happened in the past… I was scared of wanting more with you… not knowing if anything would actually change.”

She opens her eyes, her gaze darting over to yours immediately. And she could lose you again, she knows that. But what scares her most is that she’s not sure she’s strong enough to let you go, even if she wanted to.

“I don’t want you to be scared,” she whispers, almost desperately. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re scared anymore. I just…”

Her voice cracks as she continues.

“This… This is the one thing I wanna get right.”

Vi can see the shimmer of your tears in the faint glow from the screen, and it makes chest ache.

“I will get it right,” she promises.

Her eyes search yours, trying desperately to figure out what you’re thinking.

But soon, you’re crying again.

Vi watches helplessly as tears begin to fall again. The sight makes her feel like she’s breaking all over again. She feels her own eyes welling up, but she blinks back the tears, trying to hold it together, trying to be strong for you. Her eyes trace your face, and her hand still tangled with yours, thumb brushing gentle circles against your skin. Her heart is pounding so loudly she’s sure you can hear it, but she doesn’t say a word. She’s too scared. Scared that this might be the moment you pull away from her all over again—that despite everything she’s said, you’ll decide it’s too late, that she’s too late.

But then, in a voice so soft that Vi barely hears, you mutter quietly.

“Okay.”

Vi freezes. Her mind stumbles over the word, running it back over and over again like she misheard it, like it couldn’t possibly mean what she thinks it does. Did you mean it? Did you really mean it?

She blinks down at you, your tear-streaked face still pressed to her shoulder, and she feels like her heart just forgot how to beat.

And then, like the air’s been knocked out of her, she sighs. She couldn’t believe it.

“Okay?” she echoes softly.

“Okay,” you nod against her, sniffling softly. “I think… we should take it slow, at least—”

It feels like the air has been knocked out of Vi’s lungs. She’s still staring at you, eyes wide, like she can’t fully process what you just said.

“Wait, wait—” She swallows hard. “You… you mean it?”

You lift your head just enough to look at her, and the sight of your tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes almost undoes her entirely.

“Yeah,” you whisper, nodding your head.

Holy shit. Vi stares at you. It doesn’t feel real.

The word echoes in her head, over and over, her brain still trying to convince itself that you really said it. That you really meant it. Her chest feels tight, and for a second, she wonders if she’s forgotten how to breathe.

And yet, Vi doesn’t move. She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t speak.

Honestly, a part of her is still bracing for you to take it back like this is just a dream she’s about to wake up from, or a cruel joke the universe decided to play on her—that any second now, you’ll realize you made a mistake, pull your hand away, and tell her you can’t do this.

But you don’t.

You sniffle instead, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand before tilting your head slightly to look at her. Vi is still frozen, staring at you like you just spoke in another language.

A slow, bittersweet smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“Vi…?”

Vi blinks rapidly, mouth opening slightly, but no words come out and—shit.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes still glossy, still searching her face, and Vi swears she’s about to pass out because fuck, you’re beautiful. Even after all that crying, the way you’re looking at her, like you’re really seeing her for the first time in years, like she’s something worth looking at—

Vi feels her entire body go up in flames.

She’s red.

Like, really red—cheeks burning, ears practically glowing, and the moment your eyes meet, she panics. Her face heats up so fucking fast she’s sure she’s about to combust, the tips of her ears burning, and before she can stop herself, her forehead drops against your shoulder in pure mortification, and she groans.

“Fuck,” she mutters, muffled against your jacket. “I—just—gimme a second.”

She can feel you shaking slightly, and for a second, she thinks you’re crying again, but—it’s the quietest little laugh that falls past your lips and into her ears.

And despite the fact that she’d do anything and more to make you laugh forever, out of pure embarrassment, she groans quietly, “Don’t laugh at me.”

You sniff again. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

And you don’t say anything else after that. Neither does Vi.

She just stays there, forehead resting against your shoulder, breathing slow. Her fingers are still tangled with yours, her thumb absently running along your knuckles like she needs the reassurance that you’re still here with her. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, she moves her face closer—nuzzling in closer, her nose brushing the curve of your neck. You feel her breathe you in, sighing softly against your skin.

She smells like cigarettes and the faded remnants of whatever cologne she’s been using since she’s got back home, but underneath all of that… she smells they same as she did before. She smelled like thr girl who used to hold your hand and kiss you under the bleachers after school, who used to sneak through your bedroom window at midnight just to fall asleep beside you. The girl who kissed you like she meant it every single day. The girl you thought you lost.

You swallow the lump in your throat, blinking against the sting behind your eyes, and Vi must’ve noticed—must’ve felt the way your breath hitches because her grip on your hand tightens just slightly.

She lifts her head carefully a moment later, afraid to pull away and when she finally does, her face is close. And maybe it’s because she had already scooted over on the bench seat earlier, maybe it’s because the space between you has been shrinking all night, but suddenly, she’s no longer in front of the steering wheel—she’s right there, so close that her jeans are brushing against your legs, so close that you can feel the warmth of her body against your side, boxing you in against the truck door.

You don’t know if she planned it, if she even realized what she was doing, or if her body just naturally moved toward you the way it always used to. But she’s so close now.

And she’s looking right at you, like she’s trying to memorize every inch of your face—like she’s scared you’ll slip through her fingers if she so much as blinks.

Her eyes drop to your lips, just for a second.

Then back up, meeting your gaze.

Vi searches your face, her thumb absently brushing over the back of your hand.

“Are you sure about this?” Her voice is barely above a whisper now. “Because if you’re not, if you need time, I—I’ll wait. I swear, I’ll—”

“Vi.”

She shuts up instantly.

And then, she just looks at you. You’re so fucking pretty, it’s practically driving her insane.

Her eyes keep dropping to your lips, no matter how hard she tries not to. Soft. She knows how they feel, knows the way they move against hers, the way they part just slightly when you sigh into a kiss. She’s addicted to it, the memory of it burned into her mind, something she’s thought about every time she’d think about you.

And now you’re here, looking at her like that, so close, your breath warm against her cheek, and Vi is losing her goddamn mind trying to hold herself back.

Her fingers twitch against yours, grip tightening for just a second before she forces herself to loosen it.

You exhale softly, and Vi feels it against her lips.

She doesn’t even realize she’s leaned in this close until she sees the way your lashes flutter, the way your breath hitches just slightly. Her grip on your hand tightens again.

Fuck… Should she ask? Is she allowed to ask? Well… Its too late now, becuase her mouth is moving even before she could even think.

“Does… taking it slow… mean that I can’t kiss you right now?” Vi asks quietly.

She watches you, searching, waiting for any sign of hesitation, of doubt on your face that might tell her to back off.

But you don’t pull away.

You just look at her, eyes soft, lips parted, so heartbreakingly close that Vi swears she can feel your warmth pulling her in like a moth to a flame.

She’s drowning in it.

And she wants to kiss you so badly it hurts.

You don’t say anything right away. She watches your eyes, how they linger on her mouth for a beat too long. It sends a shiver down her spine, a spark of hope that she tries to smother, but you’re already under her skin.

“I…” you trail off.

Fuck. Maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut. Maybe this was too much. Maybe you’re not ready—maybe she’s already ruined this before it even started. Maybe—

Your free hand moves. Just barely. Fingers brushing against her knee.

It’s the lightest touch, but Vi feels it anyway. You’re looking at her like you’re thinking, like you’re considering it. And she’s desperate, holding her breath, waiting for anything—any sign that it’s okay to close the distance between you, to let her feel those warm, delicious lips of yours against hers.

“I didn’t say that,” you whisper, heat spreading across your cheeks.

But that’s all it takes for Vi to lean in, forehead brushing against yours first, slowly, like she’s giving you one last chance to pull away. You don’t. You stay, your eyes half-lidded, waiting. She leans in slowly, so slowly it’s almost agonizing. Then, her nose nudges softly against yours, the faintest graze of skin on skin, and she shivers. She can feel the warmth of your breath, smell the faint trace of your perfume, fingers lace tighter with yours. Her other hand lifts, trembling just slightly as she cups your cheek, her thumb grazing over your tear stained skin.

You feel her lips brush against yours. Gentle. And careful. Giving you every opportunity to change your mind.

Still, you don’t.

You lean into it, soft and sweet, your hand tugging around the front of her jacket. She kisses you slowly, savoring the warmth of your mouth, the way you taste, the way your lips part just enough for her to deepen it.

And for the first time in years, Vi doesn’t feel lost. She doesn’t feel empty.

She can’t breathe. She doesn’t want to breathe.

She just feels you.

All she wants is you.

The second your lips move against hers, Vi completely melts into you, helpless against that need that’s always been there. Her thumb smooths over your cheek, hand moving down to pull you closer by your neck, the other still clinging to yours, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. She kisses you as if she’s afraid she’ll never get to again.

There’s no hesitation now. No fear. Just you. Every sensation sinks into her, overwhelming and intoxicating.

She tilts her head, chasing more. The kiss gets desperate, messy, and Vi doesn’t care. She’s starved for this… for you. You sigh softly against her mouth, and Vi feels it everywhere. It makes her kiss you deeper, hungrier, like she could devour every sound you make. She tugs you closer, her body instinctively leaning into yours. The truck’s old leather seat creaks beneath you, but neither of you pay it any mind.

God, she’d kiss you forever if you’d let her.

She’s always been like this—hopelessly addicted to the way you fit against her, the way you always responded to her touch. Her thumb brushes over your cheek again, and Vi can feel the warmth of your skin beneath her calloused fingers, the slight dampness of the tears you’d cried moments ago. It only makes her hold you tighter, to keep you closer, thinking about never ever letting you go again—doesn’t even give it a second thought.

You pull away first, your breathing ragged, soft as you try to catch your breath. Vi’s eyes stay closed for a moment, like she’s trying to hold on to the feeling, imagining what your lips feel like even though you’re just right there, mere centimeters away from her.

When she finally opens them, she looks completely dazed. Her pupils are blown wide, her lips parted, still tinged with the lingering heat of yours. She looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

And maybe, to her, you are.

It takes her a second to realize how close she’s gotten. Her arm is resting along the back of the seat, her body practically caging you in. You’re pressed up against the cool leather of the truck door, your legs tangled with hers, her hand still clutching your, afraid to let go.

Vi blinks, then quickly leans back, her cheeks burning. “Shit, sorry.”

She doesn’t go far. She couldn’t, even if she wanted to. Her hand stays in yours, her thumb absently tracing over your knuckles, but she forces herself to give you some room. Barely.

“Didn’t mean to…” She trails off, shaking her head with a huff of a laugh.

You don’t say anything yet, your chest still rising and falling as you catch your breath. Vi can’t help but stare at the flush dusting over your cheeks, at your slightly swollen lips.

She wants to kiss you again. God, she wants to kiss you a thousand times over.

But somehow, she finds the strength to stay put.

“I didn’t mind,” you say softly.

Vi’s heart stutters. She swears it stops entirely.

You’re so beautiful. More than beautiful. And she’s pretty sure she could stare at you like this forever.

Vi tears her gaze away from you, her eyes drifting toward the glowing screen past the window. Her breath hitches, a shaky sigh falling from her lips. Barely a second later, her eyes move again, looking down at your intertwined hands resting on her lap. Her thumb brushes over your skin slowly.

She knows what’s coming, and she’s terrified of how it’ll feel, how you’ll react… if you’ll pull away from her again, like you did before.

But she can’t stop herself from saying it.

Slowly, Vi lifts your hand to her lips, pressing a soft, tender kiss to the back of it all over again. When she pulls away, her eyes meet yours. And before you can speak, before the words even leave your mouth, Vi swallows hard, and opens her mouth.

“I love you,” she whispers.

You don’t respond immediately, but she isn’t expecting you to. But she needs you to know. She needs you to hear it. She looks down again, her grip tightening around your hand, and her voice cracks slightly when she continues.

“Y-You don’t have to say it back… I just… I wanna remind you that I do… and I always will.”

Vi’s heart is pounding in her chest, and she looks away again, unable to hold your gaze any longer. Her eyes fall to your hands once more, still clasped together in her lap, tracing the lines of your hand with her fingers, her thumb lightly brushing the back of your palm. It’s automatic, almost like her body knows how to do it without thinking.

She thought she was prepared for this, for the possibility that you might not be ready to say it back. How could she expect you to feel the same way, right this second, after years of not being there for you—with you?

She smiles weakly, more to herself than anything.

And yet, it’s hard to ignore. She loves you, so deeply. And the thought of not having you in her life again—it’s unbearable. She’s willing to do whatever it takes.

Her eyes stay locked on your hand in hers, still unable to look up at your face, scared that she might see something she doesn’t want to. Maybe you’ll change your mind about her. Maybe you’ll tell her that this can’t happen again—that this shouldn’t happen again… Maybe, you don’t love her as much as you used to… Maybe—

“I love you.”

Wait, did she say that? Vi blinks, her heart skipping a beat. The words echo in her mind, like she’s misheard them—like they can’t possibly be real. It takes her a moment to register that it wasn’t her voice that said it. It was yours.

Her eyes lift slowly, hesitantly. But when she finally looks at you, she sees the truth written all over your face. The way you’re biting your lip, the way your gaze moves away from her, your cheeks flushed. You’re nervous.

“I…” She can’t find the words.

And then, so softly, you speak again.

“That part’s never changed, Vi.”

She can’t tear her eyes away. She studies every inch of your face, trying to convince herself it’s real.

Because you said that you love her.

The lump in her throat grows, and for a second, she’s sure she’s going to cry. She wants to say something, to respond, but all that comes out is a shaky breath.

“God,” Vi whispers, barely able to get the word out. “You—”

She shakes her head, her lips parting as if to try again, but nothing comes. And then she’s smiling. It’s small at first, soft and disbelieving, like she can’t believe how lucky she is.

“I thought I’d never hear you say that again,” she finally says.

Vi feels the sting in her eyes, the tears threatening to spill. She hates it. Hates how overwhelmed she feels, how her chest feels tight, like her heart’s too full, and for a second, it’s all too much.

She tips her head back, resting it against the worn leather of the truck’s seat. The ceiling stares back at her, cracked in places from the years that passed. Her throat works around a shaky breath, and then she sighs.

“Fuck.”

It slips out before she can stop it, the word practically laced with everything she couldn’t put into words, knowing how badly she’s wanted this, how afraid she still is that it could be gone agin. She feels you move slightly beside her, your hand still tucked firmly in hers. But Vi can’t bring herself to look at you just yet. If she does, she knows she won’t be able to hide the way her eyes are glossing over. She’s always wanted to look brave and tough around you… but, it’s getting harder and harder to hide with each second that passes.

She bites her lip, forcing down the sob that threatens to crawl up her throat.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, though she’s not even sure what she’s apologizing for.

Your thumb brushes lightly against her hand, and it’s enough to make shut her eyes tight, like she can will the tears away. But it doesn’t work. One slips free, trailing hot down her cheek anyway…

Vi barely makes a sound. She just sits there, head tilted back against the seat, her chest rising and falling in shaky breaths. The tears slip down her face but she doesn’t even bother wiping them away.

She sniffles softly, her jaw clenched as another tear slips past her lashes. God, she hates crying. She hates how vulnerable it makes her feel. But with you, it’s different. She feels warm with you.

Vi finally brings a hand up, swiping roughly at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. It doesn’t do much. But when she drops her arm and finally dares to glance at you, there’s nothing but softness in your eyes.

“Sorry,” she whispers again, cracking at the end, betraying just how much she’s holding back.

But you just shake your head, squeezing her hand. “Don’t.”

She sighs in response, her chest rising and falling as she tries to keep it together. Her thumb continues to trace slow, absentminded circles against your skin, and suddenly, the truck feels too small.

You don’t rush her. You never have.

Vi doesn’t say anything at first. She can’t remember the last time she felt this bare. It’s terrifying. But with you, it’s also… safe.

She lowers her head, her forehead brushing against your shoulder again. For a moment, neither of you move. The sound of the movie in the background drifts through the truck’s open windows, but neither of you are paying attention.

“I missed you,” she whispers against your shoulder. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you, too,” you reply just as softly.

Vi squeezes her eyes shut. She wants to say more. She wants to tell you how every city, every stage, every goddamn after party felt hollow without you. How she’d check her phone after every show, hoping for a text that never came. How she’d lie awake in hotel rooms, thinking about you, about being with you, about how much she missed you, about how much she wanted to turn back the time and do everything differently.

But instead, she just presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, her lips trembling against the soft fabric of your shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers again. “For everything.”

“I know,” you say. “Me too.”

Her eyes search yours, her brows furrowing like she can’t believe what she just heard.

She shakes her head, “Why are you sorry? You don’t have to—”

“I could’ve tried harder too, Vi.”

Your voice trembles, as Vi stares at you. She looks like she wants to argue, to tell you that none of this was your fault. That she’s the one who let you down. That she’s the one who made you feel like an afterthought while she chased a dream that didn’t feel half as good without you in it.

But you keep going.

“I could’ve said more. I could’ve told you how much it hurt when you didn’t call back, how lonely it was waiting for you to come home,” you whisper. “But I didn’t. I just… I convinced myself it was easier to pretend I was fine. To act like I didn’t care as much as I did… I assumed that you had bigger things to worry about than me… and I got scared to tell you. I-I should’ve told you—“

“You don’t have to apologize,” Vi cuts in. “I’m the one who made you feel that way and—”

“Vi,” you interrupt softly, your thumb brushing over her hand. “You don’t have to take all the blame… It wasn’t just you… It was me, too. I let myself think that I was the one who had to adjust, to accept whatever you gave me. I pushed away my own feelings so I could make sense of the distance… and I left when all I wanted was to be close to you.”

She stares at you, chest heavy with guilt, but she’s not interrupting now. She’s listening—really listening.

“I just wanted to matter to you,” you muttered.

Her eyes soften, her lips trembling, “You do matter to me. You’ve always mattered.”

Vi pauses, her gaze always seems to fall to your hands, the way her fingers are wrapped around yours.

“I was stupid… and selfish back then. I didn’t realize how much you needed me—how much I needed you.” She reaches up to gently tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, “I never stopped thinking about you. Even when I was out there… none of it was ever as important as you. Not even close… And I’ll keep showing you. Everyday. Until you’re sure… And even after that, I’ll keep showing you anyway.”

After a quiet pause, Vi watches you, her heart beating fast as you shake your head, that small, tired smile tugging at your lips. And then, without a second thought, you lean into her, your head finding its place on her shoulder all over again.

“I already said okay,” you say softly, muffled slightly against her jacket, tears threatening to spill again.

Vi lets out a shaky breath, the corner of her mouth twitching into the smallest smile.

“I know,” she smiles.

Her eyes dart down again, catching the sight of your hands resting in her lap, smilimg at the way your fingers fit so easily with hers.

Truthfully, she wants to say more. Tell you how much she loves you. How sorry she still is. How she’s going to spend the rest of her life making sure she never breaks your heart again.

But all she does is run the pad of the thumb along your knuckles as she dips her head just slightly, brushing her lips against the crown of your hair. The smell of your shampoo is sweet and soft, and Vi only holds on to your hands tighter, determined to be the best version of herself that you deserve.

It’s quiet now. You both stay like that for a while. And all Vi can focus on is the feeling of you beside her.

“Thank you,” she says after a while, you almost didn’t hear it.

For giving her a chance she wasn’t sure she deserved.

Vi drives back into town when the movie ends. And in truth, she wished the movie lasted forever if it meant being able to sit beside you like that for the rest of the night.

The ride back was quiet… but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Every so often, Vi’s knuckles would brush against yours on the bench seat, the way they used to when she’d drive you around town. And every time it happened, she’d swallow that lump in her though and grip the steering wheel a little tighter, afraid to push her luck.

She brought you to that same old pizza place near the edge of town—the one you two used to hit up on late nights like these—Vi had pulled over without thinking. It was late and, in her mind, it wouldn’t be a proper date if she didn’t take you to get food.

“Still open,” she’d said, half-relieved, half-nervous. “You feel like splitting a pizza?”

You nodded when she asked.

And now, with the lingering scent of melted cheese and warm dough filling the truck, you both sit parked in the lot. The pizza box is cracked open between you, the last couple of slices mostly forgotten. Vi’s trying not to make it obvious, but she’s been eating slow. Suspiciously slow. Every bite takes twice as long as it probably should—not because she’s savoring it, but because she’s trying to stretch the her time with you, desperate for it not to end.

She glances at you for what must be the hundredth time. You seemed relaxed enough, though maybe a little bit tired, soft light from the streetlamp beside her truck glowing slightly on your face. Vi thinks you’re beautiful like this. She always has. But now that you’re here, it’s all she can do not to stare.

“Pizza’s still good,” she tries, something to fill the silence. “Tastes the same.”

You hum in agreement, chewing thoughtfully. “I think they changed the sauce a little.”

Vi blinks, looking back at her half-eaten slice. “Really?”

You shrug. “Just a little sweeter. Or maybe I’m imagining it.”

A beat passes. Vi’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Still better than that place in New York.”

You laugh softly, and god, the sound of it has Vi’s stomach doing flips.

“That place was awful,” you agree. “Why’d we even go there?”

“Because I swore it’d be authentic.” Vi chuckles, as she throws in finger quotes. “I think I hyped it up for, like, a week.”

“Well, I think it’s impressive that you found a bad pizza place in New York,” you tease.

Vi huffs a laugh, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. “Never living that one down, huh?”

You shake your head softly.

It gets quiet again. Vi risks another glance your way, only to find you already looking at her. She quickly looks down, her fingers fidgeting with a stray napkin in her lap.

“I, uh… I could take the long way back,” she offers, trying to sound casual. “If you’re not in a rush.”

You hesitate for just a moment bedore shaking your head. “I-It’s late. I should probably get home.”

Vi nods quickly, forcing a smile. “Right. Yeah, of course.”

The words are easy enough to say, but they taste bitter. She doesn’t want this night to end. Not when things feel… good. Almost like before.

Still, she doesn’t argue.

It’s a silent ride on the way back to your apartment. Vi’s fingers drum softly against the steering wheel, her other hand gripping it a little too tightly. Occasionally, she sneaks a glance at you, but you’re gazing out the window, lost in your own thoughts.

She likes it better than nothing.

After all, it wasn’t too long ago when silence meant something worse.

But now you’re here. Right next to her. And even though her heart aches a little from how much she still wants, Vi wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Her truck rolls to a stop in front of your apartment building. She lingers for a moment, trying to think of something clever or easy to say, but...

You beat her to it. “Thanks for the ride.”

Vi swallows. “Yeah. Anytime.”

You reach for the door handle, but her voice stops you.

“I’ll walk you up.” It comes out quickly, afraid you might say no if she hesitates.

You blink, surprised. “Vi, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Her eyes soften as they meet yours, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I mean, if that’s okay.”

It takes a second, but then you nod.

Vi’s out of the truck before she can second guess herself. She jogs around to your side, and even though you’re perfectly capable, she still opens the door for you, just like she used to. She doesn’t say anything about it, and neither do you. But the corner of your mouth twitches, and Vi catches it.

The building is quiet as you both step inside. You lead the way to the elevator, Vi trailing just half a step behind. It’s strange, how familiar this all feels. She knew this place so well now—the smell of some faint lemon cleaner, the creak of the old elevator doors, even the way the number buttons lit up. She’d spent countless nights walking these same halls, on her way up to see you… to kiss you… to make love to you—well… that’s what she always thought of it… And, even the same as before, it feels like she’s holding her breath with every step.

The elevator ride is short, but the silence makes it feel longer, really. Vi shifts on her feet, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets as she sneaks another glance at you, catching the way your teeth tug at your bottom lip—a habit she knows all too well. You’re nervous.

She wants to say something. Something to make you feel at ease… comfortable… to make you smile, maybe. But her throat feels tight, and by the time she thinks of anything, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open.

You make your way down the hall, and Vi follows closely. She can’t help but notice how her palms are starting to sweat. Fuck, it’s so ridiculous.

Eventually, you stop in front of your door. For a moment, neither of you speak. You pull your keys from your bag, fidgeting with them, and Vi watches you turn.

“Thank you for tonight, Vi,” you say softly. “And the drive-in… It was really nice.”

“Y-Yeah.” She nods, then rubs the back of her neck. “Of course.”

“Really,” You smile, though it’s small. “I had a really good time.”

“I’m glad,” Vi returns your smile, feeling a bit proud. “We, uh… should go again some time… I mean, i-if there’s another movie you wanna watch, I could… I could figure out something.”

And then it’s quiet again. She almost hates it. Because she knows this is where you’re supposed to say goodnight. She’s supposed to turn around, head back to her truck, and let the night end.

But god, she doesn’t want to.

Vi’s voice is softer when she speaks next. “Can I see you again soon?”

Your fingers tighten around your keys, but you don’t look away.

“Yeah,” you say simply, unable to fight the way your lips curved upwards. “Soon.”

She nods, and despite the nerves eating away at her, she smiles. “Okay.”

And just when she’s about to take a step back, to let you go, you surprise her.

It’s soft. And gentle. And before she can even think, you lean in, just enough for your lips to brush her cheek. It’s quick, barely there, but Vi freezes. Her eyes widen slightly, heat rushing to her face. You pull back and turn around, your own cheeks warm, too nervous to look at her again. Vi stands there, staring at you like a complete idiot. Her fingertips brush over the spot where your lips had been, and she can still feel the ghost of it.

And although you don’t see it, a grin slowly spreads across her face.

Your fingers barely brush against the keys in the lock before you hear Vi sigh behind you, like she’s been holding her breath. And before you can turn the key, her hands are on yours. And now, it’s your turn to freeze. Her palms against your skin is nothing but warm as she pulls you away from the door. She doesn’t say anything at first. Just turns you toward her, slowly and carefully.

Her thumbs brushing over your knuckles and you don’t meet her eyes right away. But you feel her looking at you, staring hard. And when you finally lift your head, her gaze meets yours immediately.

“I…” Vi starts, but the words disappear in her throat.

She opens her mouth again, then closes it, clenching her jaw—maybe in frustration.

And then she tries again.

“I didn’t want to leave without—” Vi pauses, her brows knitting together. “I mean… I know I should, but…”

Her voice drops, trembling only slightly as she looks down at your hands.

“I don’t want to… just yet.”

She’s so close. Close enough that the scent of her—smoke and some of her cologne—is all you can focus on.

“Vi…” you whisper, her name barely leaving your lips.

“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head, her grip on your hands tightening just a little. “I just—”

She stops, exhaling sharply like she’s frustrated with herself again. Her hands twitch, and for a moment, you think she’s about to let go, but she doesn’t.

“I missed you,” she says softly.

“I missed you too, Vi,” you admit.

Deep in her mind, she feels like this isn’t real… that she’s dreaming and that she’ll wake up soon. Fuck, please…

“I… I really wanna kiss you again, ” She whispers, stepping closer. “Can I?”

You don’t answer right away. Not because you don’t know, but because you feel a little overwhelmed… in a good way, really. Vi waits, her breath warm against your skin, her hands still cradling yours.

And with the softest nod, you give her the answer she’s been waiting for.

Vi doesn’t waste a second. She leans in, her lips brushing against yours so gently and when you kiss her back, just as softly—she fucking melts.

A shaky breath falls past her lips, hands tightening around your own as she kisses you like she’s memorizing the shape of your mouth all over again. And god, she’s so close. Her forehead brushes against yours, and her breath mingles with yours. You can feel the cool metal of her nose ring brush against the side of your nostrol as she pulls you in closer. And as your fingers trail up, your hands finding their way to her neck, Vi feels herself lean in even closer. You cup the strong curve of her jaw, your thumbs brushing along the sharp line of it, and the touch sends a shiver down her spine.

Vi kisses you deeper. Her big hands, rough and calloused, move carefully from your hands, sliding down to your waist. Her fingers curl against your sides and the way you tilt your head, the way your body instinctively presses just a little closer, makes her feel dizzy. She can’t stop the soft groan, that desperate little noise muffled by your lips. And your fingers thread gently into the hair at the nape of her neck.

She’s not sure how long you stay like that, and even as her lungs beg for air, Vi doesn’t want to stop.

But eventually, she pulls away slowly, her forehead lingering against yours as she tries to catch her breath. Her chest rises and falls, lips still parted, tingling from the kiss—from you.

She blinks, trying to set her mind straight, but it’s impossible when you’re so close.

Her thumb brushes absently over your waist where her hands still rest, rough fingertips trailing the hem of your shirt. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, like touching you is second nature, a habit she never really broke. She doesn’t want to stop touching you. She doesn’t think she could if she tried.

But then she lifts her head just enough to meet your eyes, and whatever she was about to say dies in her throat. You’re staring at her, cheeks flushed, lips parted like you’re just as overwhelmed as she is.

Fuck, you look so pretty.

“I…” She starts, but the rest of her words never make it out. She shakes her head slightly, letting out a breathless laugh. “I didn’t mean to…”

Get carried away? But that’s a lie. She did mean to. She’s been thinking about kissing you like this again since you left the drive-in.

Her hand tightens just slightly against your waist as she opens her mouth again, “I-I mean… I did mean to. I just—Fuck, sorry—I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

She searches your face briefly, desperate for any sign that she hasn’t just ruined everything. When she catches the faintest smile tugging at the corner of your lips, her heart trips over itself.

“You okay?” She asks softly.

You don’t answer right away, but you don’t pull away either. Vi can still feel your hands on her neck, your fingertips brushing against the strands of her pink hair. She swears she could stand here forever if you let her—just holding you, breathing you in, memorizing the way you feel pressed against her.

“I’m okay,” you finally whisper so softly.

Relief washes over the girl in front of you. Her lips twitch, almost forming into a smile.

“Good,” she breathes, her hands lingering at your waist. “That’s good.”

And it’s quiet again… but this time, Vi doesn’t mind it. Her eyes flicker down to your lips without meaning to, and her fingers flex slightly against your waist. She doesn’t really know how the hell she’s supposed to walk away from this now—from you.

But she knows she should. She already kissed you multiple times tonight, and it was more than she ever thought she’d get. She can’t push her luck.

“I should… probably let you get inside,” Vi says, although it’s clear even she doesn’t believe it. Her grip loosens just enough, her hands still hovering close to your hips. “It’s late.”

You nod shyly, barely meeting her eyes. “Yeah,” you reply, but you don’t sound all that sure either.

Vi forces herself to move, her hands dropping to her sides even though every nerve in her body screams to stay. She takes a step back, putting some space between the two of you that she instantly hates. She shifts on her feet, awkward now, her heart still beating a mile a minute.

“Goodnight,” you say.

Vi nods quickly.

“Night.” Her voice cracks slightly, and she winces. “Uh… goodnight. Sleep good. I mean, well. Sleep well.”

“Thank you, Vi,” you say again.

“Mhm.”

You smile, small but amused, and Vi thinks she might just die right there on your doorstep.

Her cheeks are burning. She can feel the heat crawling up the sides of her neck to the tips of her ears. She’s pretty sure her cheeks are just as red, and hell, she probably looks like a mess, but she doesn’t dare cover her face. Not when you’re still standing there.

She watches as you turn toward the door, your keys jingling softly in your hand.

You glance back at her one last time, eyes falling to her neck where her skin meets that tiny glint of her silver necklace—a peice of jewelry you know all too well—and then you’re gone, the door clicking shut behind you.

Vi lets out a long breath, dragging a hand down her face.

“Fuck,” she mumbles to herself.

She doesn’t exactly know how long she stands there, staring at your front door. To some stranger, she might look like some creep standing in front of some random apartment, but all she can think about in her head is replaying the way your lips felt against hers, the taste of your mouth, your hands on her neck, how soft you felt under her fingertips—she misses all of it.

But eventually, she turns, heading down the hallway, her hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets.

And even though she’d wanted nothing more than to stay,to press her forehead against yours and ask for just one more kiss, one more minute, Vi couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but grateful.

Because for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t drive away from your apartment feeling empty.

God. She is so screwed.

series masterlist | next chapter (coming soon!)

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[darnell-la]

Please I need more “drive-by sniffing” It’s so funny to me but also I’m into it

warnings: jealousy, hiding keys, sniff-by (drive by sniffing), lying, teasing, trapping, kissing, carrying, oral (fem receiving), etc.

note: perv!logan???? FUCKIN’ HELL.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“They’re just a friend, Wade” y/n sighed as Wade kept complaining about where and why she was going. She was trying to find her keys and he knew for a fact he took them.

“Where are they, Wade? I told you I was leaving before I took a shower and now they’re off the kitchen counter so — Where are they!?” Y/n yelled at the man, making Logan choke on his beer.

“I don’t know, peanuts. Maybe it’s lost up your ass,” Wade shrugged as he got up and slipped his shoes on. “Shame on you for leaving mister I have no life and I hate everyone and everything, over there. Maybe you couldn’t take him on a date,”

“It’s not a date!” She yelled at the man, knowing this might be, but it was none of his business. “Yeah, sure it’s not, but since it’s so not a date, why not take Grandpa with you? He hasn’t seen the sun in a while,” Wade whispered.

Before y/n could say anything, he left, shutting the door hard and singing as he skipped down the hall, ready to go see Vanessa. “Dick shit,” said under her breath.

“Language, young lady,” Logan chuckled as he took a sip of his ninth beer. “Who are you? The god of prohibited language?” Y/n rolled her eyes at the man before she continued her search for her car keys.

“Lookin’ for these, bub?” Logan’s voice spoke after a few minutes of silence. She wanted to ignore him, but once she heard her keys jingle, her head snapped towards him.

“Bro, you had it the whole time!?” Y/n wanted to yell at the man, but he was Wade’s guest. Y/n only stayed here at times when it got too late for her to drive home. He’s somehow friends with her elders and he needed a “full-time babysitter for his dog” that he had just picked up and left with.

Her parents and grandparents insisted she didn’t help Deadpool and Dogpool. They were all big fans, but y/n wasn’t planning on working for him.

Wade had something behind what he was doing after y/n served him his food at bingo night. She was young but not too young, pretty, went to college, and was hard to deal with. Right up Logan’s alley, but did Wade tell him his secret evil plan? No.

“Yeah, because you’re lying,” Logan put the keys back in his pocket after she came over to him to take back what was hers. “What? Bro, give me my keys,” y/n was annoyed.

“You are going on a date, ain’t ya?” He asked. She could do all the washing she wanted, but he could still smell her. “No, for the love of god. Can you guys stop asking me that shit? It’s annoying!”

“Last time I checked, it only takes you ten minutes to shower, not thirty,” y/n was surprised he paid attention to her shower times. She’s only been in and out of Wade’s shared apartment for a couple of months.

“Your point is?” She asked, knowing he wasn’t dumb, but she hoped he’d give up. “I don’t know, you tell me,” he got up, now towering over her. Her neck ached from the sudden new angle she had to look at him.

“I can smell you, you know,” Logan admitted. “What do you mean?” She genuinely asked. “I can smell you leaking. It’s hard to miss when you smell like that every time you leave to meet up with your friends,”

She wanted to call out his perverted activities but had nothing to say. He was old, but she wasn’t a minor, so what could she say to make him feel uncomfortable for invading her privacy.

“How good is he? Seems like he fucks good if you’re soaked right before you leave,” Logan had y/n cornered on the wall. She didn’t know she was backing up that much until she had nowhere else to go.

“How about you let me meet him. Lemme watch how he fucks you so I can show you better,” his hot breath blew on her face. He was so close and intimidating. Where did all of this come from?

“Sometimes I can smell him on you. I hate it so much, you know why, bub?” Logan asked as his finger cupped her chin. Y/n softly shook her head. “Because I can do better,”

Before she knew it, his lips were all over her, barely letting her process before his tongue slipped into her mouth.

Usually, she found that nasty, hating the sloppy kisses, but this time — Fuck, it felt so nice.

Y/n kissed back, whines escaping her mouth as she now felt needy. She was already turned on, knowing she was going to meet her boy toy tonight, but Logan seemed better. He was always the better choice.

“Greedy slut,” the man spat, sounding angry, but she knew that’s how they talked when they were turned on. She could feel his hard on through his jeans. He was grinding up and down her body like a pole.

“Always leavin’ to fuck another man, like I’m not here, baby. I don’t like that disrespect,” Logan pulled the girl off of the wall and now carried her to his room that they sometimes shared.

Wade’s apartment is a two-bedroom, so if she slept over, she’d sleep on Logan’s bed, and he’d sleep on the small couch in the room.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t sleep better when she was right across from him. He’d also be lying if he said he would switch the sheets because he loved her smell.

He never did anything like this back where he was, but something after that fight made him switch. He was turning into a small pervert for a young lady in who’s barely the legal drinking age.

“Smellin’ like candy,” Logan sniffed, loving the new lotion she had bought a few days ago. “Gonna go through all that work when I take you on a date?” He asked as he slowly took the girl's clothes off. “Maybe,” she shyly said, surprised he wasn’t thinking about this as a one-night stand.

“Doesn’t matter, bub — Ima still eat that pussy till you cry,” he said as he spread the girl's legs. She felt so smooth. She was ready for him, not that dickhead she was getting ready to meet.

Logan slowly slicked up the girl's slit, taking in how close he is to her smell. All the days of smelling her getting ready for another man, just for her to get pulled back for him.

“Bet this cunts sweet,” the man said before diving in for a few seconds. Her mom got stuck in her throat. That was amazing, and he had more.

“Sure fuckin’ is,” Logan quickly went back in, arms wrapping around and thighs to pull her into his face. He wanted to suffocate in between her thighs.

[sugar-crash]

🏎️Turbo (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader🏁

(Drunk Turbo Edition!)

(Picture’s not mine!)

(Request here! Oh this loser… He just screams Oingo Boingo vibes, which is a bit ironic considering they were very popular during the 80s… I feel like I’ve probably already said this but I don’t care if I did or did not you know? I have a nasty habit of repetition lol)

- Who knows if alcohol (I believe Tappers sells Root Beer cause… Kids arcade game) or even cigarettes exist for the arcade members, but it’s fun to think about.

- I for one think him getting drunk is kinda rare, mostly because I think smoking and being self-absorbed among other things are his main way of coping with his emotions over drinking… Though he isn’t exactly against it.

- When he finally lets himself let loose and drinks at Tapper's… He drinks. Getting drunk as a goddamn skunk, like how Fix-It Felix chugged it in the… Sequel that must not be named, as witty as the name is. A real waste of a good movie name ngl.

- ANYWAYSSSS, I think he either somehow miraculously manages to find his way to you or you find him after one of your… Dare I say, friends?? Mutuals??? Complain about him being a drunk little shit and killing the mood.

- Honestly I think he flip flops from mean drunk to emotional drunk, really empathizing the turmoil that goes on in that gold ball shaped head of his.

- Going from wanting your comfort to insulting you, his speech is even more slurred than it usually is as he clutches onto you…. Freak.

- He’s so pathetic in that state, which is partly the reason why he doesn’t drink that much, against his whole thing of not being perceived as vulnerable keeping him from relying upon you like that.

- That reflects in his insults towards you as one might assume, insults elementary on the surface but tells you what’s going on in that fuzzy pea brain of his a lot more than it usually does.

- Alcohol really dumbs him down for a bit, too focused on standing up or the bug that’s clinging to the side of the wall to really string his thoughts together more concisely as words just pour out of his mouth if you poke and prod him just enough.

- Something tells me he does do the stupid ass cartoonish drunk hiccups when he’s smashed just enough… Why not? He has a bit of cartoonish whimsy to him.

- The type to try to get into a bar fight if he gets offended by some minuscule thing someone did or said, wrangling him is lot harder than one would think.

- Overall it’s usually not a great experience for any party though he does have his extremely rare moments of chilling the fuck out while drunk, mostly when he’s only sort of buzzed and still has some of his wits while being at home.

- Again I can see him being more clingy, not in a “Hehe I just like holding them💫💫🧚” but in a “Oh fuck I think I’m going to fall HELP—” Kind of way, he’s not the most graceful by any means.

- Like definitely as tripped over his shoelaces and makes you swear to keep that to yourself when he’s sober and embarrassed as all fuck when he’s able to recall the foolishness he partook in.

- Oh and keep him away from his kart— You think he’s a menace behind the wheel sober?? He is an absolute scrounge when he’s drunk, that one meme personified— Has definitely attempted to drive his kart into the Game Central Station before you put a stop to it much to his drunken annoyance.

- In a way, he was always wild, ‘liquid courage’ was just a more bitter way for that to be less constrained under his urge to maintain a powerful main character persona, makes him more honest but more incoherent.

- Rambling about what anything that comes to mind as he grips onto you as you lead him to Turbo Time to try to get him to wind down and hopefully sober up before opening time.

- Honestly, I think the more drunk he gets the more emotional side of his drunkenness comes out other than the usual slurred snarky remark he makes towards someone as they simply walk past him. Like I said he’s a little shit.

- A little attention-monopolizing hobgoblin who just so happened to get more than he should’ve drank.

- Hungover Turbo is a kind of creature you don’t want to mess with… Mean as a mother fucker, you just know his fellow racers taste his even uncaring cruelty as he fights back a migraine.

(. -. .. --. -- .- - .. -.-./.-. ..- ... .... . -../.-. . -.-. -.- .-.. . ... .../--- -... ... . ... ... .. ...- ./.-. .- -... .. -..)

[ninathekillxr]

Headcannons for if the pastas had social media?

Social Media

Headcanons

This is more of what they do with their phones but I hope you like it anon <3

BEN DROWNED~

• He would bully people online especially on roblox!

• Definitely has a prank channel on YouTube.

• Prank calls everyone

• Messages random numbers to creep them out.

•Chronically online

TICCI TOBY~

❁ Watches an ungodly amount of tiktok.

❁ Used to watch Gacha singing battles

❁ Spams other pastas with memes

❁ Breaks his phone all the time, accidentally dropping it or smashing it when he’s mad.

JEFF THE KILLER~

➼ Plays piano tiles unironically

➼ watches Instagram reels because they are so unfiltered.

➼ has been banned on roblox more times than he can count.

➼ Bully’s kids on roblox with BEN.

EYELESS JACK~

♣ Rarely uses his phone.

♣ Spends most his time on google researching how to tend to different injuries.

♣ needs text to speech settings

♣ listens to music, podcasts and Audible.

MASKY/TIM WRIGHT~

♦ mostly uses his phone to message Brian

♦ Watches tiktok when he’s on his own

♦ loves videos of kids falling and watches the compilations.

♦ Has to mute Toby constantly.

HOODIE/BRIAN THOMAS~

♫ Sends Tim memes

♫ Texts Tim when they are sat next to eachother to talk shit about other pastas

♫ Watches YouTube shorts and Instagram reels

♫ Plays merge mansion religiously.

NINA THE KILLER~

☻ Loves Tiktok

☻ Makes aesthetically pleasing tiktok videos.

☻ Has a 2000s scene themed tumblr

☻ Reads a lot of articles online

☻ Does buzz feed quizzes all the time

KATE THE CHASER~

» Has to keep her phone on dark mode constantly, screen brightness at its lowest.

» Mostly texts Nina or the other proxies about missions.

» misplaces and looses her phone constantly.

JANE THE KILLER~

⦿ Scrolls on Pinterest whenever she’s bored

⦿ Sends Tiktoks to clockwork and Nina.

⦿ Edits dumb photos of Jeff and turns them into memes.

SALLY WILLIAMS~

◙ Makes amazing rentrys

◙ Plays roblox with BEN and Jeff

◙ Plays Matching games when she’s bored

◙ Mostly messages BEN and Jane.

◙ draws on ibisPaint

Nina’s comments~

This was really fun to make! Thank you for the request! <3

Nina out!

[py-dreamer]

@violetjedisylveon

I am alive, sorry for being so inactive lol.

Busy with test preparations, ANYWAYS

I know this isn't quite the design you made for rotten fruits au but I just wanted to delve into the idea of Wukong once being a juvenile criminal who was wrongfully tortured has been through hell and back but has been rehabilitated and is now a fruit seller.

I don't remember how old he's meant to be but I assumed given he and mac are similar ages and Mac has kids that are like around 10 maybe they're probably in their mid-thirties by demon standards so yea, very chillaxed uncle vibe, the eyebags support that but also cause he been through da trauma :(

(Can definitely tell he's seen some sh!t)

You said he's built quite the reputation and in one of the asks he thinks he could just slap on a hat and sunglasses as a disguise lol so I thought why not give him the bucket/sun hat and sunglasses he has in the beach scene

Then the rest of the outfit fell from there.

Idk, why but I thought a cool shark-tooth or maybe like a claw or geode necklace would be cool as like a small good memory from his criminal past.

The peach shirt, I'm pretty sure I've used before I'm not sure BUT I knew I had to include the hoodie somehow so I just tied it around his waist since if most of the year Megapolis (or at least I'm assuming the au takes place there) is sunny and he's hauling lots of fruits around then short sleeves are more practical for him.

Sweatpants and sandals, not much else to say, just seems like some good ol practical wear at a fruit market, but the fingerless gloves were a fun touch to still give him that hint of a youthful spirit and maybe hint at his criminal past...

Then I realised his design looked way too much like his beach outfit sans the hoodie and pink fur so I added the fanny pack since that's basically a staple for any shopkeeper in a market but he still looked too much like a beach bum so I made the second backup outfit just in case

(Though maybe that could be his downtime outfit?)

Second outfit, thought it'd be practical for him to put his hair up in a ponytail since he's working and I love long hair Wukong and all but why not have fun with the hairstyles.

I think the apron and the cap really sell the fruit seller look. Very classic and the face mask is just a bonus on top.

I also didn't draw the scar where the circlet would be because I imagine he'd try to hide it with hats so you'd rarely see him without them.

I also have to wonder despite the fur, did he have any tatoos since he was like in a gang and young and dumb?

Maybe the pink was meant to cover up those marks and make up for the loss of noticible missing patches of fur from torture (poor baby...) Just food for thought.

I'd also imagine before finding his footing at his fruit stall, he'd help work for pigsy as like a waiter and I saw this meme of like restaurants in Malaysia where the waiters scream your order at the freaking top of their lungs and that just seemed so Wukong coded lol

(also @ainnur, just curious but do you happen to be Malaysian or live in Malaysia at one point cause I saw your ask of Wukong using ringits at the fruit stall with your OC who asked for durian and I had a sneaking suspicion lmao)

And don't be expecting any frequent updates cause Ima most likely be really busy in the following months but glad this piece got me out of the weeds for a bit

EDIT: Forgot to include in the sketch but I think a bandana (not the strip type like MK's, more like the square bit of fabric like cleaning maids wear) tied around his head would be cute, then he and MK could match!

[kate-inthedarkness]

hii!! could you please write something about robert hard launching his longtime girlfriend. like she was a bit scared before because she’s never really been on the public eye or anything but turns out his fans love her and they’re going crazy about them. and it’s just like fluff or anything you like, you can add whatever you want. love u, thank!!

I had so much fun writing this I’m giggling hehehe!!!

Enjoy 💋💋

Secret No More - Robert Keating

Summary: I genuinely wrote exactly what the request was so that's technically the summary LOL.

Warnings: None! xxx

You never thought a simple post could make your heart race so fast.

You're curled up on the couch in Rob's flat, his arm slung lazily around your shoulder, fingers tracing soft shapes along your arm as some old film hums quietly in the background.

His phone buzzes, lighting up the room for a second before he turns it screen-down again.

You don't think much of it—he's always getting messages. Band stuff, group chats, someone sending him a dumb meme. It's background noise at this point.

What you do notice is how he keeps glancing over at you. The kind of look that's all warm eyes and slightly parted lips, like he's about to say something but hasn't quite worked up to it.

"What?" you laugh, nudging him gently. "You're staring."

"Yeah," he shrugs, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. "Can't help it."

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks are already heating up.

He sits up slightly, shifting so he can look at you better, his voice a bit more serious now. "I was thinking about posting something."

"Okay...?" you say, eyebrow raised.

"Of us."

You blink. "like... on your Instagram?"

He nods, eyes flickering down for a second. "Only if you're okay with it. Just... I dunno. I want people to know. Want them to see how lucky I am."

Your heart does a full somersault. He's never hidden you—not really. The band have always known, and so have the rest of his friends. And of course his family knows. But this would be different.

This would be thousands of people. The fans. The internet.

The thought makes your stomach twist, but not in a bad way. You're just extremely nervous. Not about him, but about you. About being seen.

Rob must notice the way your face changes, because he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your cheek. "Hey. We don't have to. Seriously."

"No," you say, surprising yourself. "I want to. I'm just... a little scared."

"Yeah, I get it. I'll be right here though," he promises, smiling softly. "I always am."

He snaps the photo while you're tangled in his hoodie, half-asleep, your face hidden against his neck. All you can see of yourself is your hand wrapped around his shirt and the slope of your nose.

His caption reads:

"No.1 Mardy Bum 💙"

You try to ignore the notifications that start pouring in. But a few hours later, curiosity wins, and you crack open your phone.

The comments weren't what you expected at all.

"OMGGGGG BOBBY??? SHE'S GORGEOUS" "This is the softest thing I've ever seen, I'm crying 😭" "They look so in love I'm gonna crash out." "I need a Robert in my life istg!"

There are fan edits within minutes. TikToks. Tweets. Someone found your old Spotify playlist from around the time you and Rob first started seeing each other, and is already analysing the "romantic vibes" for clues.

But instead of feeling overwhelmed like you thought you would, you just... smile.

You feel seen. Not as a headline or a rumour, but as someone who loves and is loved in return.

Rob leans over your shoulder, chuckling at one of the comments. "'They look like they smell like vanilla, cigarettes, and love'?" he grins. "I mean, they're not wrong."

You elbow him lightly, but your cheeks hurt from smiling. "This is insane."

He presses a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then right at the corner of your mouth. "It's just the beginning of all the madness, love."

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, surrounded by love in every direction—on the screen, in the room, in your heart—you believe him.

[feistypuppythatwantstowatchball]

okay. i'll bite. give me the tea on these italian lesbians please???

Here is a little attempt at a full explanation of everything. It's complicated and I only got into it on Monday but here it goes, just skip to the parts you wanna know, i ended it with a nice edit (there are hunderds on twitter);

Show information:

Grande Fratello is the Italian adaptation of big brother, so about 20 people are stuck in a house 24/7. The current season got people who are slightly famous and some are exes from before the game. They broadcast 2 livestreams 24/7 and have one gala each week to eliminate people. The house picks the nominees, the public votes who leaves. So the growing twitter obsession can carry the girls real far.

The Lesbians:

Helena is 34yo, I think a model and minor TV personality, Brazilian, in the game for 3 months and sick of it. Never been with a woman. Has reservations about starting a relationship because of Zeudi's earlier actions and her young age plus she went through a pretty brutal breakup that she is still dealing with. The entire house has been against her for a long time, only now she seems to build a solid support system.

Zeudi is 23yo, former Miss Italy 2021, from Napoli, in the game 1 month and only happy when she is good with Helena. Openly bisexual has an older female ex (not in the house). After doing some dumb/messy shit is now the one chasing Helena. Seems to get along with most people.

Story:

I don't know their history too well but I will give it a go. The general thing is that they fight and make up in a 3-4 day cycle because these bitches cant talk feelings with each other. They can with everyone else but they make each other dumb.

Since Zeudi entered the game there has been a connection between the two, but mostly just friends. Zeudi is in there with an ex and that shit has been messy for the first part of her stay. They have grown closer and closer mostly physically (remember, they dont talk), some light kissing as well.

I dont know the drama from that time so will start from where I jumped in. So last week they had done some kissing outside, and later Zeudi went to her ex and kissed him quite thoroughly. During the gala clips of the week get shown to the contestants so Helena knows about this now too. Turns out, Zeudi did it to make Helena jealous and to see if she would care (girl is afraid helena doesnt feel the same way) . Helena pretends not to care but now that kiss is the reason she doesnt trust Zeudi and is apprehensive to start something with her because she doesnt believe it would work.

Two days ago they had a screaming fight after cuddling for hours. They didnt speak at all yesterday till 2am and then suddenly everything was good again. And today they are acting like a married couple. After the kiss with the ex there is no longer mouth kissing. Helena is afraid Zeudi only wants that part of the relationship and Zeudi says she wants more but would be okay if it was to be only that... THEY JUST DIDNT SAY THIS TO EACH OTHER.

And here is the bestest part, these people sleep in one big bedroom in double beds... ZEUDI AND HELENA SHARE A BED. They have been for the entire time. At night the camera focuses on one bed and no sound. So we simply dont know what they do during that time....

There is so so much more but this is what came to me in the moment, here you have a cute edit:

If you want to follow them and dont know how to get started, here is a twitter list with about 60 accounts that live post everything (clips, edits, translations, memes):

[minsu-the-cowardly-human]

UglyDolls shipping chart

Whoo boy so this orginal chart has been since deleted but people have uploaded their versions of it so I frankensteined this together + added Nolan. The explanations and list of the ships will be below the cut

OTP:

Lou x Ox: Listen I know Ox calls him like a brother but in my headcanon he only says that because he has #interalizedhomophobia. Anyways, I just love love the idea of them being toxic but also sweet together...idk chat they got somethin' to 'em!! I'm just like that one cow pic that's "man" like...wow they are so terrible together!!! I ship Ribbun what do you expect, lol

Lou x Moxy: Ok this one I can actually explain with real words a bit more. Firstly I like how in the Ugly Truth song I know this is apart of the whole manipulative stuff or whatever BUTTT i do like he says she makes him tongue-tied and calls her pretty before the back-up singers go in. I know, I know that's the point...but I mean...tongue-tied is an inherently romantic phrasing for me. Also I LOVE how Moxy is in the crowd smiling like an idiot as she's listening to him call everybody else ugly and she's the only one still smiling when her and crew gets the spotlight on them. I don't think she's stupid, considering none of the rest of them are smiling at this point AND she starts frowning once his "prettttttyyyyyyyyy" goes on for a bit..long..to the point she knows he's not being serious yk? Idk I just..love the idea of her being like a fangirl over his appearance, at least, and him finding it cute. Idkkk chat!! IdkkkK!!!

Like:

Tuesday x Kitty x Lydia: Idk I like the idea of them being poly together :3

Mandy x Kitty: Idk maniuplative girlboss toxicity yes yes. I chose Mandy and Kitty specifically because Kitty seems to be the leader of the pack of the spy girls/the most outwardly mean. I wanna see Mandy make a "not like other girls" meme with her and Kitty and Kitty gets on her about it before she realizes how pretty Mandy looks :>

Mandy x Nolan: They're both outcasts/"ugly", maybe they could get together or at least be friends!

Lou x Nolan: Nolan fawning over Lou and the first scene at the academy where Nolan is like "wait you criticized us because you love me?" and then Lou is like "yes" *looks away n back* "I love all of you" like...idk I think they could be cute together

Wage x Uglydog: Idk just a thought I had during the movie when Wage was getting on his ass about trying to rizz up everybody and failing. Horribly. Maybe she could rizz him up idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Moxy x Lucky Bat: Whoo I don't know just the way he talks to her during the tea scene and the way she kisses Ox on the cheek and pats his shoulder at the end of the first song makes it feel like to me he's getting friendzoned by her. Maybe I'm looking too much into things but that's the vibe I get. Plus idk...they could be kinda cute together...

Like/Neutral:

Babo x Lou: I don't know I like the tiny micro interaction they have in the Ugly Truth song. I don't have much of an excuse for this one ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Babo x Wage: I like the idea of her coming home to her supportive hubby :3 idk it just clicks in my brain

Neutral:

Ox x Moxy: Idk it just doesn't click with me. Maybe it's because while searching for Lou x Ox stuff I saw someone mention that Moxy and Ox are "related" because the kids are related even tho it's never said in the movie. Maybe I see them more as friends. Idk. I respect it though and I think it's dumb to think they're related, if we're going by that logic you couldn't ship anybody cuz they're all made in the same factory. Edit: Got the reason wrong but I still think it's stupid to think it's bad to ship them. More info here:

Mandy x Moxy: Idk again it just doesn't click with me. I get the appeal 100% since Moxy is the first one to validate her for wearing glasses. But I dunno it feels weird for Moxy to say her glasses makes her who she is instead of her..personality? Idk. Maybe I'm being petty but it doesn't click for me. Respect it though.

**Edit: Ox x Lucky Bat: Damn I forgot these fuckers. Anyways, they're..alright. I like their colors though. Idk for me there's not enough there for me to ship them

Not Really:

Lou x Tuesday: He doesn't pay much attention to her. It feels like a hopeless fangirl falling for her favorite member of a boy band (which is fitting since Lou is voiced by Nick Jonas from the Jonas Brothers lol). Idk it doesn't seem Lou cares much about the spy girls unless they can do something for him, which is fine but I don't see the appeal personally. Respect those who do tho.

Lou x Mandy: .....okkkk listen ok I can't say shit about people who ship this or why I don't ship it because I ship fuckin Lou x Nolan and Lou x Moxy ok. I'm no stranger to shipping Lou with somebody he calls ugly lol is what I'm saying. But idk...Mandy doesn't seem to like him very much and he certainly doesn't like her but there's no small moment of something for me to ship them, like the "i love all of you" scene with Nolan or Moxy being a tiny fangirl. To me, it doesn't click. Respect those who do however. Again, I am a big rarepair/crackshipper I uh can't say shit about how much a ship makes sense to me lol.

[mika-chaos-bean]

1NTR0 2 MY CR4ZY BL0G

(last edited: 4/23/2025) (month/day/year)

Hallo! I am Mika, but you can also call me Dinraal (copinglink), Chaobie, or Chaos (fictionkin) if you want! You are also welcome to call me any other nicknames.

I'm girlflux, asexual, omniromantic, and demiromantic (not exactly s*x-repulsed, but I dont like it due to past and whatever). My pronouns are she/her, they/them, and it/its.

Current main hyperfixation(s): Sonic the Hedgehog, Yo-Kai Watch

Here's my YouTube and Strawpage! I have an Artfight account but idk how to control c that yet... the name of it is Mika_Floofadoo tho

I experience rsd and paranoia, so please excuse my constant worrying about what people think and stuff. I also have bipolar, narcolepsy, and ADHD. lifes confusing

Im part of the agere community! I'm a permaregressor, so I'm always regressed, regression age being 13 (sometimes though, I'll regress to a baby). I'm also in the petre community, but instead of regressing to an animal, I regress to a Chao! Dni if you s*xualize it, please, it makes me uncomfortable. Also I'm a furry!

I am a therian/fictionkin, and my theriotypes will be listed under the cut. For fictionkin, I'm Chaos (from Sonic Adventure) kin! But don't worry, I'm friendly and will not cause any cataclysmic events. I'll keep it cataclysmic-less, heheh.

I'm a selfshipper and my mains switch all the time. It depends on my current hyperfixation. I am a bit possessive over SOME of my f/os though, so if I get crabby about certain ships (*cough cough* sonadow *cough cough*) its because of that. I am okay, and not okay with sharing. Guess it kinda depends on if we're moots or not. If you ship with one of my f/os, and I don't know you, I'll just block you and move on. No conflict needed, everyones happy.

All my F/Os are my caregivers! If I post anything related to caregivers, I'm talkin' about my F/Os! <3

Other members of the Dream Team: @/quinnwolfess and @/princessbunnyzelda

I'll try to keep my DNI as short as I can, but as someone who has been through a lot, I'm so sorry it's lengthy.

DNI IF: NSFW, proship (as in you love adult x minor ships or inc3st ships or stuff like that because thats gross), pro-contact, anybody who condones to the actions of people who abuse others (human or non-human), anti-lgbt, anti-trans, anti-alterhuman, anti-furry, anti-agere/petre, anti-selfship, vivsiepop and jkr supporters, anti-gaza, politicial blogs, and if you support AI "art"

I hate discourse! I do not harass anybody for any reason. If I don't like you, I will just block you. Simple as that.

All blinkies, dividers, stamps and userboxes are not mine (you can find who they're by in my reblogs)! The chao regressor userbox and the agere banner are the ONLY ones that are mine.

All blinkies, dividers, stamps and userboxes are not mine (you can find who they're by in my reblogs)! The Chao regressor userbox and the Agere Banner are the ONLY ones that are mine.

Tag list, Theriotype list, and F/O lists under the cut! (All F/Os are semi-sharing, it matters more on how i think of you, honestly)

Tag List! (WIP)

#mika yaps - one of my posts or reblogs with me talking in it

#mika howls - a therian post or therian reblog

#artsy mika - art i make (sometimes i forget to tag!)

#mika vents - any venting posts i make

#mika.lol - me being dumb or a meme, or just something silly

#attempting to help out - attempting to give emotional support

#mika the chao - posting as a lil chao!

#important yapping - important posts

#*smiles at nonexistent camera* - when something good that I REALLY like happens

#mika core - stuff that is me fr

#fox lore - lore for my oc Fox

#mika yaps as a different character! - roleplaying

#oops my heart went 'yippee' - stuff that makes my heart go yippee

any of my selfship names in tags - my selfships

#quadrobics - doing quadrobics

#mika plays - video gaming :3

#ch40s m1k4! - posts about being chaos-kin (fictionkin)

#mikas tunic ramblings! - posts about me talking about TUNIC! deciphering trunic, the story, my thoughts, questions, everything TUNIC!

Romantic F/O list! (WIP) (not in order by when I got them) (I've added my S/I's names and pronouns to em so I can remember which S/I is for who) Sonic the Hedgehog - Sonic the Hedgehog (ShootingStar shipping) (S/I: Genesis the Wolf, she/they)

Shadow the Hedgehog - Sonic the Hedgehog (Chaos&Order shipping) (S/I: Umbra the Bear, they/them)

Daruk - LoZ: BoTW (FireSword shipping) (S/I: Akari, she/they)

Yunobo - LoZ: BoTW (GravelComet shipping) (S/I: Yuna, they/them)

Revali - LoZ: BoTW (SnowBird shipping) (S/I: Everest, she/her)

Issun - Okami HD (BrushLeaf shipping) (My first f/o!) (S/I: Aki, she/her)

Whisper - Yo-Kai Watch (GhostFlower shipping) (S/I: Screech, she/they/it)

Venoct - Yo-Kai Watch (WaterSnake shipping) (S/I: Ushio, she/they/it)

Hotto Doggo, or just Hotto - Cat Quest 2 (HottoFluffo Shipping) (S/I: Fluffo Foxxo, or just Fluffo, she/they)

Haku - Spirited Away (RiverBlossom shipping) (S/I: Sakuya, she/they/it)

Mao Mao - Mao Mao: Heroes of Pureheart (CobblerTreat shipping) (S/I: Kiyomi, she/they)

Kyubi - Yo-Kai Watch (StellarHeart Shipping) (S/I: Starbin, she/they)

Silver the Hedgehog - Sonic the Hedgehog (PsychicFrost shipping) (S/I: Solstice the Snow Leopard, she/her)

Reala - NiGHTS Into Dreams / NiGHTS Journey of Dreams (DreamCatcher shipping) (S/I: Zephyr, they/them)

Familial F/O list! (WIP) Asgore Dreemurr - Undertale

Edd - Ed Edd n Eddy (my son <3)

Sticks - Sonic Boom (I can relate to her a lot!)

The Heir - TUNIC (i know they dont get much interaction in the game, but from what interaction they do get, they seem like a sibling figure)

Squiddilious McKraken - Yo-Kai Watch (BETCHA DIDNT EXPECT THAT, DID'JA? HAH)

Platonic F/O list! (WIP) Calyrex - Pokemon Sword/Sheild DLC

Knuckles - Sonic the Hedgehog (mainly the movie version, but also Adventure and X. but basically all of them)

Petey - Dogman

Dib Membrane - Invader Zim

Farosh - LoZ: BoTW (I'm Dinraal copinglink, ofc I have them as a buddy!)

Naydra - LoZ: BoTW (again, I'm Dinraal copinglink, ofc I have them as a buddy!)

NiGHTS - NiGHTS: Into Dreams / NiGHTS Journey of Dreams

Kieran - Pokemon SV

Arven - Pokemon SV

Snufkin - Moomin (Queerplatonic)

Angel Gabby - Angel Hare

Angel Zaggy - Angel Hare

Theriotype list!

Grey Wolf

Celestial Dragon

Red Fox

Lionhead Rabbit

Snow Leopard

Stellar's Jay

Black Bear

I rp as the Crazy Three (Mika, Fox, and Kasumi). That is all. But my rp blog for my Sonic S/Is is @galaxydog-moonbear-snowcat! I also have a Yo-Kai Watch rp blog, if you're interested, called @ushio-starbin-yurei! <3

Oh yeah, and please dont send hate. I AM CRINGE, BUT I AM ALL OF ME! And I'm moving on from being upset about my ex-friends. They chose to leave, so be it. I don't need them.

And ofc, please enjoy my blog!

[zankydraws]

do you have an oc or persona of any kind?

also, do you have any of your own oc’s w/ lore and stuff?

only asking cus i really wanted to make fanart for you at some point and realised i couldn’t T-T

have a nice day!

I do have a sona but she needs a little redesign. I've been planning on drawing her but I'm not really in the mood for that now.. But idk, maybe I'll get motivated 😔

tbh, most of my OCs need redesigns or at least some new art (I haven't drawn one of my faves since like.. 2018). a lot of the stuff I have is very rusty lol

buuuut, I guess I could share one guy... my biggest fave. I've wanted to share art of him for a long while but for some reason I was never ready to do that lol, ngl I'd love to get fanart of him

(pics and some details about him under read more) ⬇️

this is Dave and he is very stupid 💖 if you're interested in making art of him, here's what he looks like

(shitty ass meme edit lmao)

His actual name is Dawid Szulecki 🇵🇱

He's some sort of a faceless ghost and wears a mask at all times. He can create clones of himself which are emotion based and each has a different mask (there are 7 different masks but I plan on adding one more in the future and maybe improving a few of them lol so you're only gonna see two of them for now). His favorite activities are playing baseball with his clones, slapping his clones on their stupid bald heads and touching nice tiddies. He also enjoys being a nuisance to his friends and pulling pranks on them (his buddies are faceless ghosts too). Generally he's a shitlord

his skin is pitch black and feels cold and slightly velvetty to the touch

he's a pretty big boi, 198cm tall

he loves dinosaurs and has a little collection of dino figurines and also owns dinosaur themed hoodies and onesies (which is a lil fact that I keep forgetting about lol)

+ some older stuff I made 2-3 years ago:

he wears dumb shirts like these unironically

he's my idiot. my dumbass 💜

I need to make more art of him and his friends fr

[blueberrysoaps]

hello i loved your joining bakusquad headcanons !! could you possibly make a part 2 or more bakusquad and reader hcs?? tysm!!

HIIII!! <3

Of course I’m so glad you liked it Anonie!

(And for anyone else wondering my asks are open for requests. For more info go here)

Hope the suffices, and id love to write more too!

Next part ~ Last Part

M.list

Taglist

BakuSquad + Reader Headcannons pt. 2 | You get injured edition

Depending on the injuries everyone will react very differently.

For a minor injury (for the mha universe):

Mina was FUSSING over you for days about it.

But also since you couldn’t walk for a bit, she had you in her claws. Now she had a yapping buddy.

She would try her best to cheer you up and fill you in on everything going on! Even if you can walk with crutches and aren’t living under a rock.

Will make others leave you alone cause “you need to rest” when really she just wants to gossip.

Kirishima doesn’t fuss over you too much

But that’s only cause he knows you’re super strong and can take care of yourself!

He’ll help you out with chores, makes sure to get your class work if you missed school because of it.

He doesn’t want to make you feel lesser than for getting hurt by cradling you too much.

But if you can’t walk for whatever reason, and you need to get up. He’ll straight up carry you

“It’s easier” he says.

Denki says he’s showing off.

Speaking of Denki, he’s very sad about it.

Who’s gonna sneak out and go on midnight snack runs with him while you recover.

Sero’s been given short circuited Denki duty. But it’s not the same.

He’ll send you memes until you feel better.

He won’t stop texting you.

Someone needs to make sure you’re not lonely!

Mina silences your phone.

Sero is also chill like Kirishima.

No need to cry over spilled milk

He was worried at first but you don’t seem too beat up about it, so why should he worry?

He checks in every so often

Mostly the same.

Still watches Tv and movies with you

But he takes care to bring your favorite snacks.

Will offer you a… alternative form of pain management if you’re interested 🍃

Bakugo yells at you for getting hurt

He’s not trying to be mean, but if you get hurt over every little thing how can you possibly succeed.

Maybe it was when you two sparred, in that case he’ll feel terrible

He’s wait on you hand and foot while also trying to seem like he doesn’t care.

He’d bring you food then call you dumb

If you need medication he has an alarm of his phone for it, but keeps it silenced so no one notices

Everyone notices.

Every so often while you heal he’d go to your room. Stare at you for a second, then leave without a word.

He’s making sure you’re healing properly and he can tell by the way you look.

If you’re injury was life threatening from a villain attack:

Mina cries when you wake up in the hospital.

She’d never seen you risk yourself like that yet, and it didn’t only scare the shit out of her, but also surprised her.

She knows you’re resilient, but with so many scary things happening around her, she was worried if you’d pull through or not.

She wouldn’t say that though, she’d say how glad she is your awake and try and cheer you up.

A lot of the same from the minor injury actually.

But she’d make sure to also tell you how glad she is to be your friend, and to be more careful next time.

Cause she’d miss you so much! But she leaves that part out in the name of not bumming you out.

Kirishima would try his best to remain positive around you, but that was super scary.

The doctors were saying you may not make it… you didn’t look too good either.

But he knew you’d wake up he had faith.

He’d make sure you were comfortable and wasn’t bothered too much.

He’d tell you he never doubted you for a second!

Denki would be upset like with the minor injury

But multiplied by a million

He’d be so happy when you woke up he shorted out.

Kirishima watched him until he came back and told you how worried he was.

He’d go on and on about how badass you were. How you saved everyone!

Also about how the doctors thought you’d die, which is less cool. It just came out he didn’t mean to.

Sero whacked him for that.

Sero likes to think of himself as a cool guy. Very chill.

Chill only goes so far when your friend is as beat up at you though.

I think he’d be sort of quiet. Like he wouldn’t want to say anything to make it worse.

Maybe he needs to be reassured you’re not so fragile. Probs by Kiri.

He makes sure you’ve got entertainment while you’re in the hospital and that you’re not too screwed up about what happened.

If you have doubts yourself over the villain attack, he’ll reassure you you were the best hero you could be. And it was enough.

Bakugo tells himself he’s not worried at all when you get hurt.

No friend of his is allowed to die, you know that.

But obviously that’s not how these things work. He knows that

Telling everyone to “stop freaking out and do something productive”

While he sits by your bedside.

Even if there wasn’t a chance for him to keep this from happening he’d blame himself to an extent.

I mean you’re apart of the BAKUsquad after all.

I think he’s also quiet to you when you wake up.

Not cause he thinks you’re weak, but cause he’s trying not to crash out.

He’d speak to you alone too. No one else’s business what he talks to you about.

“Don’t do that shit again, dumbass. No one likes a damn martyr.”

Says something about how you’re acting like shitty deku or something.

He still wouldn’t leave your side.

Maybe you make a joke about him being worried and he actually admits it.

Tells you that as soon as your better, you’re training with him from now on. Can’t have you getting hurt over a dumb mistake again.

[peachphernalia]

For the character ask game: 4, 8, 9, 14, and/or 23 with …. *drumroll* Whole [and the crowd faints in surprise /sar/vsilly]

Can answer as many or as few as you’d like!! Everything is super /nf, just curious . I like hearing your thoughts on These Guys :3

HOORAY this is about to be very fun for me

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

well . i actually have thought about several. i know this question is asking for onebut i Really struggle to narrow it down so [not-so] rapidfire list:

putting him into venturiantale pie as a case is extremely funny to me . pie gets a call about this guy who keeps splitting into three people by mistake & then trying to kill himself which is like a normal client for them . ghost deduces that this must be some demons or something but they seem to not be doing anything Evil to the general public [preoccupied with making an album] so it’s problem solved really . whole is billed $1000 for this

marble hornets . just think it’s funny for him to be going through the album’s events & also slenderman is there. for some reason

undertale . preferably with hms haunting him chara style . because i think it would be fascinating to watch him work through those moral dilemmas . he’s a perseverance soul btw

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

already went over thisone in a previous ask but basically . Nothing ! i don’t have much i dislike with fanon whole characterizations

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

oh god i don’t think so . i like him a lot but i think we are both people who would be very difficult to live with & we are similar in all the ways that would make that . Bad. i think. i fear we would get into fights . maybe iam cynical

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

funnily enough whole is the one guy of hmsw that i don’t really have an aesthetic i lean into when thinking about his outfits . i guess he’s a little grunge adjacent but he isn’t , um. Cool. heart hands . i think it would be really cute to dress him up in goth or scene or something though . ouw actually scene would be Really cute i need to think about that more

23. Favorite picture of this character?

ok there is a lot of art of him i like obviously but i feel like it’s cheating to not pull something from the actual videos . therefore

this fucking screenshot of him . I Like It. i took it for one of my dumb soulwhole meme edits & it’s been in my camera roll because i laugh every time i see it . what are you looking so angry for . why such FurrowedBrows. why so Pissed Off can you chill out man

[parvuls]

omgcp characters + siblings headcanons

bitty - canonically an only child.

jack - canonically an only child.

shitty - I have this very specific headcanon about shitty's mom remarrying and shitty having a teenaged half-sister, who he fucking adores but who unfortunately thinks he's embarrassing as fuck. the only times she willingly has a conversation with him is when he brings lardo over (because lardo is cool).

lardo - has older brothers energy. you can't fight this. I'd say she has at least one older brother, and they get along pretty well. they don't talk much when she's at school, but they have an ongoing facebook chat exchange where they send each other dumb memes and funny cat videos.

ransom - according to the wiki, has two sisters. is most likely the eldest sibling and likes to lie to himself that he's their protective older brother, but honestly they could take him in a fight no problem. talks to his sisters the most out of the guys (his pregame routine includes facetiming them). EDITED: oops, it's actually canon he has one older sister and one younger one. I maintain that he still thinks he's their protective brother, and is still incredibly wrong about it.

holster - according to the wiki, has three sisters. gives off major middle child vibes, and no I will not take criticism on this. I would actually say he's a middle child and has a twin sister, if I didn't think he'd make having a twin sister his whole personality and mention her constantly.

chowder - canonically has a sister. I think he's the younger sibling and can most definitely be the annoying younger sibling when he's in the mood. does things like boast to his friends about how cool and accomplished his sister is and then go home and pull third-grade pranks on her all summer vacation. he's that "I can call her names because she's my sister but nobody else is allowed!!" brother.

nursey - has a much younger brother, like almost ten years younger. isn't and never was chill about this fact. when he goes home for breaks he's all like yeah whatever we'll probably have to do kid shit because of my baby bro but is then on the verge of tears when his brother tackle-hugs him as soon as he gets home. has one (1) picture in a full on elf costume from when he took his brother to the mall to see santa, and dex and chowder make sure everyone and their dog has seen that pic.

dex - canonically has a brother. probably has a whole bunch of brothers and sisters, like, at least four - so is the fourth out of five siblings, two of which are sisters and two are brothers. they all demand more attention than him, either because they're the perfect child or because they're the demon child, so he has that forgotten middle child syndrome. shared a bedroom with a sibling until he left for college and most definitely has hilarious life-long issues because of it.

[lemonhemlock]

I do think some hate Criston because they're racists, others because he insulted Rhaenyra, even though his crimes aren't worse than what others have done (DAEMON for example, who is loved so much by tb) and some are a mix, but one part of me thinks it's because he is the character who Rhaenyra did wrong to

He's the one persone that the show let her do something horrible to just because she wanted (young Rhaenyrayou had so much potential), even though the narrative then tries it's hardest to demonize him over and over again, so then what Rhaenyra did isn't so atrocius to the public eyes

Most who point the finger saying it's not that deep, he shouldn't have gotten his feelings hurt, he's an "incel", simply don't understand the world created by Martin, it's theme and culture, because they are pushing their own narrative and agenda, with a modern view, that the show itself pushes

Rhaenyra is never wrong and the one time she did something bad because she's CAN (she can take and do what she wants because she's the heir, she's a Targaryen) the writers then bends themselves in trying to make Criston a "villain", one more hateful than the others put together

The new Joffrey & Ramsey of hotd (I saw more than one person saying this and let me just laugh because what? Lol)

Not to say that is the only act that Rhaenyra does for herself (her relationship with Harwin and having her three sons with him for once, but the narrative never truly show it as a BAD thing she did - and I say bad because it's egotistical and she put in danger her own children etc)

So, Criston hate could come from so many different places, but one place it'll never come? Here, from me, because how can I say no to a man with beautiful brown eyes?

The writers can do what they want, they won't change my opinion of the characters themselves (And they are trying so much to destroy the greens and even the black which lol) and I will still write my Brat compilation of oneshots for the green, because it's their color and theme so cheers ahaha

(I still can't understand how in driftmark, when Rhaenyra said to Alicent "now they see you for what you are" or something like that now I can't exactly remember lol, was that gotcha moment... like... how?)

I hope you're having a great time, aside from the witcher anon jump scares lol

💖

yeah!! the way the writers insist on framing criston like a villain while simultaneously not even giving him particularly villainous things to do is so weird to me. are they stupid?*

i do think his disproportionate amount of haters is a mix. if you think it's reaching, think about what a bane targ stanning is in the asoiaf fandom and how dany worship has turned so many spaces toxic. their mental gymnastics in justifying their delusions is equal to none. and now, unfortunately, for lack of other content, all that dany rage has been employed in the service of rhaenyra (so silly considering they're all fake people but you know)

also, thanks, anon! i am genuinely curious to know how witcher ship antis found their way onto my page. like, what is the thought process there. 😂

i keep repeating this dumb meme, SORRY ✊

EDIT: also. brat compilation of the greens?? yes sir!!!!!!

[boydepartment]

JAYJAY I HAVE THIS CUTE IDEA THAT YOU MIGHT LIKE

OKAY OKAY….imagine going on a road trip with enha! I THINK IT WOULD BE SO CUTE ESPECIALLY WITH JAKE AND NIKI AAAAHAHEHHDJDDJJ HEHEHEHHEEHHHEHEHEH👹👹👹

Enhypen Headcanons- Road-trip!

HELLLO MY DEAR IT HAS BEEN A CRAZY COUPLE OF DAYS BUT I AM ON IN RN!!!! IM GONNA DO THESE AS LIKE HEADCANONS <3 edit- IM SO sorry this took awhile. i had a ton of birthday stuff and then my friends stayed like the entire weekend. I LITERALLY FINISHED THIS WHILE THEYRE SLEEPING EVEN THO WE HAVE CHURCH TOMORROW ITS LIKE 2:30 AM!

MASTERLIST

JUNGWON- Jay def put him in charge of music mainly because Riki kept playing something INSANE LIKE ASMR ON THE AUX. Jungwon probably plays really nice classical music that makes everyone fall asleep but then will randomly play screamo too so he scares everyone. He lets everyone choose a song though! DEF ASKS TO GO PEE EVERY 20 MILES HE SITS RIGHT BEHIND JAY! His song choice is No More Dream by bts

HEESEUNG- I think be brings up like "lets play ispy!!!" then looked at like Jay like "i spy a grumpy pants!" Just to mess with him while he's driving. Other than that he is the snack keeper. He is in the passengers seat and the snacks are by his feet so no one hogs snacks. One time though Heeseung wanted to mess with Jake by playing tug of war with the bag of chips and you can imagine how that ended. Heeseung's song choice is You got a friend in me by Randy Newman

JAY- HE IS DRIVING. He gives driving vibes yaknow?? He is def a safe driver too, like he isn't driving like a maniac. He always has his blinker on too early and he is driving the speed limit. Can you imagine Jay backing up the car.... ANYWAYS- He has def turned the music off to focus when the car gets tense too Jay's song choice is Mr. Brightside by the Killers or he will just turn on like the oldies radio.

JAKE- He is somewhere in the middle of the van, I also think he gets carsick so bad. Whenever Riki wants him to look at something on his phone if its longer than a quick glance Jake NEEDS to look out the window, otherwise those chips he ate off the floor bc of Heeseung are coming up to land on the floor again. Other than that he loves to sing a long to songs <3 He would probably play the anything off the Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack!

SUNGHOON- HE HAS THE COOLER W THE DRINKS ALL THE WAY IN THE BACK! They have tea, soda, water, everything. He wanted the seat all the way in the back for this reason. And because Sunoo is just on his phone the entire time. Sunghoon has def accidentally smacked Jake in the head with those sodas that are encased in glass. BY ACCIDENT. He also eats the ice from the cooler.... Sunghoon would play like old songs from I-Land and then be like "remember when so and so did this??" Just to add drama in the car.

SUNOO- On his phone the entire time!!! Next to Sunghoon in the back. He has his headphones in and he is playing a game. Sunoo is very quiet and just does his own thing! Only looks up when he gets a tincy motion sick or when he sleeps <3 He brought his own snacks. SUNOO DOESNT TRUST ANYONE NOT TO EAT THE FOOD W HIS NAME ON IT. "Riki just pick my song for me I am not listening."

NI-KI- "Dude if you throw up, puke on Jungwon..." VOMIT INSTIGATOR He also ended up right in the middle of the car which is really dumb because of how tall he is. mf is literally blocking the rear-view mirror. Riki also purposely will take longer to use the bathroom because before he left he sprayed a TON of axe in the car just to mess w people more. He likes when the windows are rolled down so it works out for him. He probably plays the MOST insane shit ever, like cbat or like REALLY old meme songs JUST to get on everyones nerves. LIKE THE RAINING TACOS SONG "Um I get two songs... Sunoo gave me his choice <3" THIS WHOLE CAR IS JUST A MESS!

[willowmckinley]

Fic writing ask meme! 💕😠⛔️😊

Thank you, Cici!

💕 whats your favorite part of your writing process?

This feels a little silly, because I complain about it so much, but honestly? Editing. I know I complain a lot in the discord about how I can't believe I can't just publish and ahhh this is so dumb it's and stupid, why do I have to do more? But then I actually enjoy it. I love shaping the fic into something better. It feels like polishing a rough rock into a gem, it feels genuinely special to turn something fine, whatever, to something I really end up being proud. I like turning chunky sentences into a smoother read, cutting out the fat/redundancy, and bringing in themes to the beginning that hadn't even occurred to me until the end. I complain about it a lot, but it's the part of the process that's most rewarding to me. Sometimes when I'm stuck in a fic, I go back and edit, and doing so helps me realize what I need to for the scene I was having trouble with. It feels like working with a puzzle almost, nudging things into the right place, seeing how different scenes tie into one another in a way I wasn't thinking about originally now that I have a fuller picture.

😠 whats your least favorite part of your writing process?

Oh... a good one. Hm. Hmmmmmm. I wanna say also editing, because it'd be funny, but I'm not so sure. I think my least favorite part is times like now, when I wanna write so bad, but it's harder for me to do than usual. I usually have a lot of fun writing and picking through sentences and magically making words appear on page through work and thought. But sometimes I just feel so sluggish about it. I miss writing. I hate missing writing, even though I know it's okay to take breaks and I can't be expected to write as much as I do always, but... I like writing. Writing is fun for me. I miss having that fun. I have my tricks for breaking out of ruts, but it's such a pain in the ass, feeling like I'm about to have a temper tantrum about it.

⛔️ whats something you try to avoid in your work?

I wrote out a whole response, that was kind of wishy-washy, but I thought of one. I try to avoid writing something how someone else would write it. If there's a concept or trope or prompt or what have you, I try to write it in a way that's new or has not been done or how I wanna see it.

😊 say something nice about your writing

Whoa, hey! Ho ho ho. Usually I try to be more demure about it, but sure, since it's the prompt. I really like how graphic my work can be and how creative I get with what I do. I obviously like how much of my fic is for me, but also how I can still surprise myself, lol. I like that my relationships read compelling to other folks and draw them in. Is that good?