#got slow and kinda silly

[freakova]

Me after walking out of the fnaf movie:

[quirkle2]

a little bit crazy

[isinuyasha-art]

[lystring]

😔 i caved once more...i got some money for christmas and dav is on sale on steam so i bought it lol its currently downloading. this might be a huge mistake

[gregmarriage]

okay, i’m genuinely curious: do people find me intimidating?

[prettyboykatsuki]

slow down | n. seishiro

✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader, fwb to lovers, implied dom reader, switching for the first time (kinda), unprotected sex, backshots, explicit smut, love confessions in the middle of sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 2.8k

✮ a/n ; im not taking questions at this time don't ask me anything. title from chase atlantic. dont say a word to me.

✮ synopsis ; when you ask him to fuck the sad out of you, nagi mostly does it because it's you.

but maybe it's worth doing again, if it makes you whine so pretty.

Something clicks.

It's weird. Nagi doesn't totally get why it happens now of all times. Figuring out he loves you mid-thrust seems silly, even for him.

It's not like this is the first time Nagi has ever had sex with you. He decided to fulfill your request of asking him to put in a little work while you hung out on shared day off.

He's used to the routine of you coming over to use him, more or less. He doesn't mind it at least. He doesn't think too deeply about it in general. Once you propositioned him to be your regular hook-up, Nagi couldn't find it in himself to voice a complaint.

Sex with you feels good, probably because being around you has always felt nice. You pamper him a little like Reo does, but you're... different, somehow. Nagi can't completely explain it. You have a different feeling to you like all of the ways you spoil him to you sort of come easy.

You said once that you like that you know what to expect with Nagi. It was easy not to hope or want for anything other than what you got.

He isn't sure why he's remembering all of this now. It's not the time. You're holding onto his pillow, muffling moans into it while you fuck yourself back on his dick and there are at least five things he should probably be more concerned with than what he's thinking about right now.

Maybe it's the same, really. He's still thinking of you. On the other hand that's all he ever does.

Nagi watches you, suddenly mesmerized by the view. He's not usually fucking you from this angle, but he can tell he's feeling you a lot deeper. The sex he's used to having is lazy and 'intimate' as you put it, too much for a hook-up. You're usually under his weight, or in his lap, or on your belly while he curls over you. You're usually the one controlling the pace, and if he is thrusting at all - he's usually doing it with his head totally empty. Chasing the pleasure with a mindlessness that feels comfortable. Cock heavy with need, thrusting into you - warm and wet, perfect around him.

The sex you have with Nagi is good, but above all it's comfortable. You come expecting him to get hard and do what you ask - which is easy.

This is not that.

But it's good. Maybe better. At the very least, new in a way he wants to explore.

You weren't even supposed to be having sex. Though that's usually the case - you'd told him before coming over that you weren't feeling quite up to it. You asked if it'd be okay if all you did was cuddle and of course it was.

Not wanting to have sex is one thing, but it was the abrupt difference in your mood that prompted his concern. You're usually upbeat and chatty - like to talk to his ear off even if he's not totally listening.

So it's weird when you crawl into his bed silent and almost moody, it's so obvious even Nagi can tell. And it worries him as is, but it worries him most when you get worked up enough to cry in front of him after he asks you what's wrong.

He's not usually good with stuff like that, so he uses the advice so he falls back on what he's used to. Asking if there's anything he can do.

You made a joke, between a sniffle. You could fuck the sadness out of me, I guess.

You weren't serious. But Nagi thought, well he could do that much. It doesn't bother him, since it's you and he has a day off. And it feels off to see you cry, so if he can get you stop - that'd be good.

Sex is different when Nagi is the one putting the work in. This is the delayed realization. He's never really thought about doing it - since the sex you have already is really good. He doesn't see the point in fixing what's not broken.

He likes it like this, he thinks. Even kissing you. It's fun, somehow. He's never seen you act like this before. Whining, sighing - something almost pitiful to you. You're expecting him to give up from what he can tell, at least from all the times you pull away from him—glassy eyed and giggly, asking if he's had his fun yet.

And honestly, Nagi is expecting it of himself too. He's done his job in making you feel better.

He's sort of surprised at how much he wants to keep going.

It feels good though. Euphoric. A sense of ego, he supposes. It feels good to know what he can do to you if he wants too, at any time.

He looks down at the evidence it and almost feels content.

You fuck yourself back onto him the second he moves and it makes him click his teeth just a bit. It bothers him somehow, in this specific instance. His hands find the soft flesh pudge of your hips and he thinks about how good you feel between his fingers as he holds you in place hard.

You wiggle yourself back against him desperately and in unconscious retaliation he pulls out completely. Your pussy gapes open at his absence - the first time he's ever seen inside. Swollen and sticky, fluttering as his thick cock lays against your cunt. Crystalline threads of pre-cum and arousal stick and cling to you both. Your pussy is glistening pretty under the low-lights, viscous threads of his own pre sticking against the hair of your pussy. Cocky red, tip ruddy and throbbing.

Nagi rubs against you tentatively. Pleasure guides him, his hips finding the right angle to thrust against you but not quite inside. He can hear the moan you bite into the pillow and feels a strange sense of contentment mix with vague annoyance. It'd be better if he heard you loud and clear.

"Nagi-kun," You breathe out. It's the first time he's heard you say his name like that.

Something inside him jolts. It's the same realization he had before. He should tell you before it slips away.

"Again."

A pause. Nagi ruts his hips, forcing it out of you. "Nagi-kun."

"That's it," He mumbles, to himself. "I like that."

You make another garbled noise - force your hips back up and Nagi pulls away again, not on purpose. Somehow, he doesn't feel like giving you what you want quite yet. You do this, back and forth until you whimper, head turned over your shoulders.

"Why aren't you fucking me?" You whine, words filtered through thick tears, voice riddled with frustration. "Fuck me, already."

"Mm,"

Nagi doesn't want to make you beg. But he likes this feeling - whatever it is. How you act when he holds you in his palm. Doesn't want to make you small. Rather, you are like this. Cute. Makes him want to see everything else you could do in reply to him. Even if it means you might nip at him, somehow - if it's you, it wouldn't be bad. He rubs his cock again against your swollen cunt, sliding it between your thighs too for good measure. Gripping your hips even harder he fucks inbetween them with a sigh - head of his cock catching on your clit.

You keep moaning his name when he makes you feel good. The harder he goes, the more he smacks his his hips against your ass - not quite relieving the pressure in your gut you just keep crying out for him. It's nice to hear. That's all it is, really.

"Not my thighs," You whine. Nagi takes a breath, pushing a hand through his hair.

"Where?"

You make a noise, looking over at him from your shoulder - scandalized. "Are you serious?"

He doesn't reply or react, just keeps still. You groan.

"Fuck my pussy," You say, wincing at your own voice. "Want your dick inside me."

"Call me Seishiro,"

You blink absently, another desperate cry "Seishiro-kun," You breathe, soft and gentle and sincere. Cute. "Fuck me. Please?"

He nods. Doesn't say anything in reply - just grabs your hips and leans forward - a hand next to your head. Keep himself steady, and keep you upright.

Raw dick slick from sliding against your sex, tip heavy with pre-cum - Nagi stuffs his cock inside you in one go. Your pussy stretches around him with ease, accommodates his ridiculous length like it's done it time and again. He's felt it before, felt you before - but it's the first time he's really noticing just how much effort it must put in to do it. Somehow, he finds that endearing too.

His cock, thick and heavy and wanting - aches as he bottoms out. Sticky heat swallows him whole, his waist melting against your own and making him weak. It always feels good, but it never feels this good. Never feels good enough that he makes a noise any louder than a breath.

But he moans this time - shivers as his fingers sink into the plush of your hips and he grinds the tip of your cock against the very edge of your cervix. Your knees go weak underneath him, you'd buckle if he wasn't there to hold you upright.

Another wave of arousal spills around the girth of his cock, and you squeeze down on him tight. Oh. You like that. He does it again, mindlessly. You grow wetter, more desperate. All pulsing waves of heat and desire, Nagi can feel your legs tense as you get stimulated from the inside.

"Keep your hips up," Is all he says as he lets go, moving his hand around your waist until his fingers brush your clit. You gasp.

"Seishi—hicc,"

Words lost, Nagi rubs a circle into the throbbing bundle of nerves. Twitchy, restless under his fingers - he's practiced in this. Good with his hands, he starts slow until he finds a place it gets easy for him to do without putting any tension on the rest of him.

You're shaking before him. Nagi places an absent kiss on your shoulder blade. You keep half-way saying his name, stumbling on the syllables and sounds when he makes you feel good.

"Fuck," You're falling apart. He can hear it. "Quit touchin' me like that. I'll cum."

"Then cum,"

"I don't want to cum like this,"

"Then how?" He says. A delayed sense of understanding. "Oh, you want to cum on my cock?"

You clench down on him hard. Huh.

"That's it? Is that why you won't cum?"

"Sei-kun," You're so whiny like this. "You're being extremely unfair today."

"Am I? Sorry." He isn't sure if he means that. "Is that what you meant? You want to cum while I fuck you,"

You frown, voice barely above a whisper. "...Yeah. So quit it already,"

Nagi pulls out and you breathe a sigh of relief before he slams right back in. You almost scream, mouth fallen open. "Just tell me next time. It's fine."

Again. Your words die as soon as he moves. This was the right pace. The right everything. He can tell because your pussy keeps fluttering around him, slick walls trembling so violently each time he slides in and out. Gripping onto the hard length of his cock like you don't want him to pull out completely. Each time he gets close to doing so, you suck him in further. Milk his cock for all it's worth, his balls feeling suddenly heavy and tight. He moans in pre-emptive, at the thought of how good it's gonna feel unloading it in you.

"You feel so good." He says, appreciative. You whimper again. "Ah, see? It's so tight. Does it feel good for you?"

"Feels so good. Love when you fuck me Sei,"

Love. His thoughts loop back around again to what he was thinking about at the start.

"You feel good to me. Really good." And then, not thinking about it at all. "I love you,"

You tense, looking over your shoulder - looking out of it, dazed. Unsure. "W-what?"

"Huh? I said I love you,"

"S-Seishiro?"

Your pussy grinds down on him again. You liked hearing that, huh?

"I love you," He says, and you whimper - audible. "I wanted to tell you before."

"Sei—"

...!

He stops again before picking back upon a brutal pace almost instantly. It feels right. No mercy as he pounds his cock in and out of you - suddenly feeling like something's possessed.

Your hands reach back to try and push him out but they're so weak it's almost ticklish.

"Sorry. Later," He says, fucking you with every ounce of effort he can finds - rubbing your clit with nasty precision. Each moan sounds punched out of you, breathy and high. "You're so cute."

And you are, Nagi thinks. He's starting to understand. You're cute in a different way that everything else cute is. That's special to you. It's all so cute to him.

You repeat his name again and again. Nagi never gets sick of hearing you say it somehow. He wonders why it only just clicked that this is something he can have. He wishes he would've figured it out sooner.

"Sei," You say, mindless - unthinking. He can feel your whole body tighten, tension making your limbs wind back. Fingers clawing in the sheets, toes curled up, spine curving into a 'C' as the pressure in your gut slowly unravels and throbs around him.

Nagi keeps pace - multitasking well enough that you don't falter. Laser-focused, he wants to know what it's like to make you cum from his own hands. His own ego. He wants to know how you feel underneath when your body gives out from pleasure - in the same way he wants other things. Completely selfishly, a hunger gnawing in his gut as you get close to the edge. He doesn't stop, doesn't slow, doesn't falter. He pounds into you as you gasp and tremble without a sense of mercy.

Raw desire burrows itself into his chest and blooms inside the space between his bones. His eyes almost hurt from how hard he focuses.

Finally, you call his name once more - your cunt spasming relentlessly around him. Hot, so hot - his dick almost hurts from how hard he wants to cum before you.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—cumming, I'm cumming!"

Nagi groans as you cum. His cock nearly slips out from how hard you pulse around him, waves of your own cum and arousal frothing around the base of his cock from how hard he fucks you. A wet liquid sprays against his thighs as he bottoms out while you ride your high. His own body gives up on holding back as soon as he feels you cumming.

Two thrusts more and he's spilling his seed into you full. Hot, thick ropes of cum paint your insides white as he pants. He almost collapses over you, the both of you breathing hard from exhaustion as the high starts to cum down. He can barely think.

It's annoying he's still hard, but he's not quite tired. He hasn't gone soft.

"Nagi-kun,"

"Seishiro," He corrects. You look over your shoulder at him in surprise. Nagi looks back plainly.

"Uhm. Right. Seishiro-kun. Did you...did you mean to say that?"

"What? That I love you?"

"Yeah. Or was it a heat of the moment thing?"

"Huh? Why would it be that?" He says, earnestly confused. For someone reason this makes you giggle. "I meant it. I just figured it out."

You pause. "...While we were having sex?"

"Huh? Yeah. You were really cute like that."

"What the—did you call me cute?"

"Yeah. Do you not like that?"

"I didn't—It's not that I didn't like it but it's... I would've never imagined you saying it to me,"

He wonders why. You're plenty cute. It's just that Nagi only recently really figured out what the word was. He shrugs. You chuckle.

"What were you going to do if I didn't like you?"

He pauses. "I didn't think about it. Do you not like me?"

You laugh harder this time. "That's so like you. I do like you, Sei-kun. I love you too,"

"Then it's fine," He hums., noncommittally. You giggle.

"I guess so."

A pause. Nagi loves the warmth of your body under him. He wants to keep cuddling but something bugs him.

"Can we go again like this? It won't go down."

...

"... Seriously? Normally it takes you a minute."

"I think it's cause you said you love me." Nagi adds.

"Oh my god. Did I just unleash something in you? You've never acted like this before, like ever."

Nagi shrugs. It'd be good to get use to it now, he thinks.

"Maybe. Can't we?"

You squirm underneath him and Nagi feels himself twitch. Your face warms. See? You're plenty cute, he thinks.

"...I guess it's fine."

He nods. "I wanna do it while looking at you this time. Okay?"

"God. Sure. Okay."

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — smau

after getting evicted out of your old place, you're left with no other choice but to look for a cheaper alternative. which is how you end up becoming neighbours with lee haechan, who has a passion for music and disturbing whatever peace and quiet there is.

or in which you found yourself a very nice apartment, the only issue? your neighbour is your friend's somewhat ex-situationship who won't stop playing his guitar at 2 am in the night.

neighbour!haechan x fem!reader

genre ; enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, probably slow burn, humour, neighbours au.

extras ; haechan is kinda an asshole | boy next door + likes everyone but you trope-ish | profanity and death jokes because they’re silly! | probably romantic tension | some mark x reader here and there | renjun and jaemin having their own e2bffs moment | probably inaccurate depiction of how someone would get evicted pls don’t shoot me 😅

notes ; i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan <333 idk i got nothing better to do now so i’ll just start this because i know i won’t be posting any of the other long fic wips any time soon 😭

PLAYLIST ; She , Tyler The Creator — For The Night , Chloe Bailey — IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU , Bktherula — Surprise , Chloe Bailey — I Wanna Be down , Brandy — Suite Life , FLO — Is It A Crime? , No Guidnce — Round&Round , NCT U .

STATUS ; ongoing and hopefully regular updates.

profiles (1) profiles (2)

intro

1 ) jaehyun’s trophy wife

2 ) free cookies (not really)

3 ) midnight disturbance

4 ) attempted murder?

5 ) THIS IS FAMILY

6 ) haechan’s second identity

7 ) kiss buddies and useless complaints

8 ) critically acclaimed idgaf veteran

9 ) founders keepers..?

10 ) yangyang’s new interest (y/n)

11 ) a late welcome party

12 ) invest in a cage jaemin

13 ) cat fight (REAL)

14 ) the cure to a lack of sleep = cup pong

15 ) who said quiet guys can’t be freaky?

16 ) you got a girlfriend?

17 ) i DO have a girlfriend

18 ) this is life, i love life..

19 ) nah. they fucking.

20 ) let’s play apex?

21 ) whole house mad

22 ) drunken regrets

23 ) he’s got to be fucking with me..

24 ) a sincere apology letter (kinda)

25 ) are we cool or not?

26 ) we’re good (for real)

27 ) a personal guitar lesson

28 ) LIVE TWEETING YNHAE MOMENTS

29 ) a moment of vulnerability

30 ) friendly q&a between friends

31 ) that’s strange.. that’s weird..

32 ) solution to job loss = family guy (???)

33 ) what has jaehyun done for society?

34 ) ynhae bonding activity hours

35 ) an unwanted double date with yangyang

36 ) an overwhelming realisation

37 ) the universe can kill itself

38 ) a “what are we” conversation

39 ) i got that hair too, kinda

40 ) reviewing haechan’s tweet and new issues

41 ) diagnosed with the crush disease

42 ) putting your satisfaction first

43 ) some girl talk with mark.. this diva..

44 ) girls day gone WRONG

45 ) homies before hoemies

46 ) #BringBackGenderNorms2024

47 ) no one but us

48 ) the words of the DEVIL

49 ) remove the fake from life

50 ) y/n and jaemin would’ve loved this

51 ) you’re a queen and he’s just.. there

52 ) we are sooooo fixing this

53 ) spiritual connection attempts

54 ) satanic mind manipulation

55 ) cucklord

56 ) when you kinda gaf

TBA . . .

BONUS:

TBA . . .

TAGLIST is closed

[sunsburns]

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

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

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

⟢ word count. 17k+

⟢ part two: 30 for 30 (ii.)

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

You were totally, utterly smitten.

Every curve, cave, and mark of your heart was tainted, etched with her name in invisible ink only you could read. It felt like liquid gold ran through your veins, molten and alive, heating your body from the inside out. The rush of it coursed through you, fingers buzzing with static, your chest tightening as if you were holding your breath for years without ever exhaling.

Your vision blurred, a tunnel of light where every refraction became an iridescent heart, glowing faintly in the distance. And yet, over it all, denial bubbled and crackled in your mind like a sputtering fuse. You told yourself it wasn’t real—just a trick of adolescence, a fleeting desire, the way your brain played with shadows and feelings to make you feel like this.

It wasn’t unusual, you reasoned. Lots of people thought their best friend’s older sibling was cool. Admiration was natural, harmless even. Powder sure loved to tease you about it.

And maybe, when you were younger, the way your chest fluttered when Violet smiled was just a childish crush, the kind you’d laugh about later.

But you didn’t laugh.

Because the years kept moving, and the feeling never left. It dug in, shifting from an innocent admiration to something heavier, harder to ignore. It was a slow burn—each year adding fuel to a fire you couldn’t destroy. Every glance she threw your way, every offhand comment that lingered in your mind like a melody you couldn’t stop humming, every time she showed up for Powder with that effortless swagger, the heat in your chest built.

She wasn’t just cool. She was intoxicating. Destructive. The kind of person who drew people in and broke them apart without meaning to, leaving them scrambling to put themselves back together again. And you were no exception.

You told yourself it was a passing phase, a silly infatuation that would fade as you got older. But it didn’t. Instead, it grew roots, wrapping itself between your ribs, tightening its grip with every stolen moment, breaking the bone until it seized your heart too.

She became a constant—there, just out of reach.

But then, there was a glance that lingered too long. And another. And then another. Shy gazes turned knowing, wanting. Kind smiles started to curve on themselves, smirking, teasing.

Then her hand brushed yours one night, deliberate, the press of her fingers against your wrist sending a jolt through your body.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice low, the kind that made you feel like the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

You weren’t.

How could you be when her breath was warm against your neck, her hands mapping every inch of your skin with an urgency that left you breathless? Her touch was fire, consuming you, leaving marks you swore she’d never see. She kissed you like she was trying to memorize you, her lips and teeth and tongue tracing the parts of you that ached for her.

The nights that followed were stolen—whispers exchanged in the dark, her body tangled with yours beneath sheets that smelled of her and regret. She’d show up unexpectedly, her knuckles rapping softly against your window, her grin equal parts cocky and sheepish when you let her in.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered once over the pounding of your heart.

But she just kissed you in response, her hands holding your face, her touch rough but reverent.

It was reckless, a secret you both held tightly, but it felt like falling—wild and thrilling like nothing else mattered.

Until it ended.

You should have seen it coming. The signs were there, subtle but unmistakable, like the way her touches lingered less, her smiles carried an unfamiliar edge of hesitation, or how she started showing up later and leaving earlier.

She pulled away first. Her body still sought yours in the dark, her kisses still burned against your skin—but something else tugged her away. The linkage you’ve made, fragile and unspoken, began to crack under the weight of what neither of you could say.

And then, one night, it just stopped.

There was no confrontation, no goodbye. Just a shitty note, scrawled in her rushed handwriting. An apology that didn’t explain anything and only left you with more questions than answers.

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

That was it.

What the fuck? Who fucking does that?

You used to think you knew Vi, considering the two of you have known each other for years but for fucks sake. A fucking note?

You were left hollow, raw, trying to patch yourself together while carrying the weight of what you’d lost. The ache wasn’t sharp or explosive; it was slow and steady, a dull throb that settled in your chest and refused to leave. Like an old injury, it reminded you of her every time you tried to move on.

And then there was Powder.

The one thing both of you could agree on is that Powder could not know.

You couldn’t look at her without guilt sinking its claws deeper into you. Every laugh felt tinged with the shadow of what you were hiding from her. You’d never wanted to hurt her, not Powder—your other half, your best friend. But now, even sitting in the same room as her felt suffocating. She didn’t know why you pulled away, why you avoided talking about her sister, but she noticed. You saw it in her eyes, the way they clouded with quiet confusion and hurt.

Shit. You fucked up. Really bad.

You tried to fix it, pouring yourself into your friendship with Powder to make up for what you’d broken. But the cracks were there, widening with every forced laugh, every moment her gaze lingered too long, silently asking you what was wrong.

Did this make you a bad friend?

You told yourself it didn’t, that you were doing the right thing by keeping the secret buried until the day you died. But Violet was everywhere.

She was in every corner of that house, in every fucking memory. Her laughter echoed in your mind when the silence stretched too long, and her absence hung heavy in the air, turning a place that should have been safe into something haunted.

Now, the crunch of snow beneath your boots was deafening in the stillness of the night. Your breath hung in the air, visible and fleeting, mingling with the sharp scent of winter. The cold was unrelenting, biting through the thick layers of your coat and scarf, nipping at your cheeks and fingertips despite your gloves.

Ekko stood beside you, adjusting the knit hat pulled low over his ears. He shifted from foot to foot, his warm brown coat dusted with snowflakes that clung stubbornly to the fabric. His scarf was wrapped snugly around his neck, and his expression was relaxed, a stark contrast to the tightness in your chest.

You tugged at the sleeves of your coat, pulling them further over your hands as if that could keep the cold—and your nerves—at bay.

The house before you looked like something out of a holiday postcard. Twinkling Christmas lights lined the rooftop, casting a golden glow over the snow-laden yard. Frost framed the windows, and a simple wreath adorned the weathered front door, its red bow vibrant against the muted greens. The faint aroma of pine and cinnamon drifted from inside, wrapping around you like a bittersweet memory.

You stared at the door, every second stretching longer than it should. Standing here again, in this place so familiar yet painfully different, you wondered if coming back was a mistake.

Ekko nudged you gently with his elbow. “You good?” His voice was soft, a puff of mist forming with each word.

You nodded, though the knot in your stomach said otherwise. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Just... cold.”

Before either of you could knock, the door swung open.

Vi stood there, her presence commanding even in the soft glow of the porch light. Her once-vibrant pink hair had grown longer, the colour almost red at the ends, with dark roots framing her face in uneven strands that still carried that effortless charm. She wore a sweater and a jacket that stretched over her broad shoulders and dark jeans tucked into worn combat boots.

Her gaze landed on you, and for a moment, something flickered there—recognition, maybe even surprise—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Her lips curved into a faint smile, but it wasn’t warm. If anything, it felt like a placeholder for something she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say.

“Oh,” she said after a beat, her voice carrying an edge of surprise but little warmth. “Hey, guys. You’re early. Like, two days early.”

“We’re staying for the night,” Ekko said, brushing snow off his coat. “I thought Vander told you. He and Powder invited us.”

Vi blinked, her expression shifting almost imperceptibly as her jaw tightened. Her eyes flickered toward you—briefly, like looking too long might hurt—before she stepped aside.

“Oh,” she murmured, her voice quieter this time. “Right. Yeah. I was just heading out... but, uh, come in.”

The warmth of the house hit you immediately as you stepped through the door, but it barely thawed the chill lingering in your chest. The soft creak of the wooden floor welcomed you back like an old friend, though the once-chaotic energy of the home was subdued. The living room was tidier than you remembered, with carefully placed holiday decorations that hinted at some change within the walls.

Ekko stomped his boots on the mat and shrugged off his coat, but you hesitated, taking in the quiet. The faint murmur of laughter from upstairs made you smile, though your focus was pulled back to the sound of the door clicking shut behind you.

Vi lingered in the entryway, her frame silhouetted against the soft glow of Christmas lights spilling through the frosted windows. She looked different—older, sharper. Her pink hair was darker now at the roots, the faded strands falling over her face in a way that made her seem distant, untouchable. She shifted her weight, the leather of her jacket creaking softly, and the tension in her shoulders was noticeable.

Before either of you could say anything, a blur of blue came bounding down the stairs.

“ Finally! ” Powder’s voice carried through the room as she launched herself at you, arms tight around your shoulders. Your bags hit the floor with a dull thud as you caught her, laughing despite the ache in your chest.

She hadn’t changed much. Though her hair was shorter now, spiked at odd angles and choppy. Her hair was shorter now, spiked at odd angles, and choppy in a way that screamed ’last-minute experiment.’ You remembered her midnight call a few days ago, her voice buzzing with nerves and excitement over the impulsive haircut.

You hugged her back with the same force and you could feel the warmth of her cheek against yours. There was something undeniably comforting about being near her again.

When you pulled back, your gaze drifted to her hair, and you reached out instinctively, teasingly tugging at one jagged edge. “It looks worse in person,” you said with a smirk. “I thought you said Silco would fix it for you?”

Powder rolled her eyes dramatically, though her grin stayed firmly in place. “Jesus Christ, I just got home a few hours ago. Cut me some slack.”

“I’ve missed you,” you said, your voice softening as you leaned back to really look at her.

“Missed you more,” she shot back instantly, her arms still lingering on your shoulders like she was afraid to let go. “God, it’s been way too long.”

“Not that long,” Mylo called from the end of the stairs, “We literally saw each other at Thanksgiving.”

Powder’s head snapped around, glaring. “Fuck off, Mylo.”

“Just saying,” he muttered, disappearing into the kitchen with a shrug.

Powder turned back to you with a huff but couldn’t suppress the laugh bubbling up. “What an asshole. I swear he hasn’t grown up a day.” She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before bounding toward Ekko, who barely had time to react before she threw herself into his arms.

Ekko froze for a split second, his hands hovering awkwardly before resting on her waist. You stifled a grin as she leaned up to kiss him lightly on the lips. His ears turned crimson against his dark skin, and the sight almost made you laugh, but you held it in. Powder, of course, acted like nothing had happened, grabbing his bags and darting further into the house.

“Vander and Silco aren’t home yet,” she called over her shoulder, barely breaking stride. “They’re doing last-minute shopping with Claggor and Isha.”

You and Ekko exchanged a glance—his flustered expression made you grin wider—and then he followed her further inside.

You reached for your bag, your attention wandering as your eyes traced the wallpaper. It was new—bright and floral—but seemed oddly out of place against the worn, scuffed floors and familiar marked walls. Your fingers brushed at the strap absently, your mind still half-caught on the contrast between the house's old and new pieces.

A warm touch startled you.

Your hand stilled as you glanced down, finding Vi’s fingers barely brushing the strap of your bag. She froze too, her hand hovering awkwardly next to yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, the shared hesitation thick in the air between you.

“I just…” Vi’s voice broke the silence, softer than you’d expected. “In case you needed help,” she added, her tone careful. Without waiting for an answer, she slid the strap off the floor and into her hand. The weight didn’t faze her—of course it didn’t.

She stepped back immediately, her hands dropping to her sides. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue. For a second, it seemed like she might say something more, but the moment passed.

You waited—just a beat longer than you should have—but when she didn’t speak, you turned toward the stairs. Each step thudded softly beneath you, the weight of her silence trailing after you like an unwelcome shadow.

The grooves in the banister felt familiar under your fingertips, grounding you as you looked back. Vi hadn’t moved. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her jacket, her shoulders hunched forward as though she was trying to shrink in on herself. Her jaw worked tight, and her gaze was fixed on the floor, unyielding.

Something about the set of her shoulders tugged at your stomach, twisting it into an uneasy knot. But before you could decide whether to say something, she turned on her heel and slipped out the front door, letting it click softly shut behind her.

The ache in your chest lingered as you moved down the hall toward Powder’s room. Slipping in through the open door felt like stepping into a memory.

Nothing had changed.

The posters on the walls curled at the edges, faded from sunlight and time, but they were the same ones Powder had painstakingly arranged in high school. Her desk was a familiar mess of old art supplies, dried-up bottles of nail polish, and a tangle of wires from unfinished projects. A precarious stack of sketchbooks leaned against the desk lamp, and the familiar scent of vanilla candles mingled with something faintly chemical.

You smiled softly, running your fingers along the edge of her desk. It was comforting, in a way, to see how untouched it all felt, as though the past few years had been frozen in this space.

“What's the mattress for?” Ekko dropped his bag onto the floor with a loud thud.

Powder, kneeling on the ground by the end of the bed, didn’t look up as she smoothed the worn blanket over the mattress she’d pulled from the closet. “The three of us won’t fit on the bed.”

Ekko scoffed. “Don’t really want to share, anyway.”

You crossed your arms, arching a brow at him. “Not sharing a bed with me, or Pow?”

“You can’t just claim the bed,” you shot back, indignant.

“Why not? First come, first served.” Ekko leaned back, folding his arms behind his head like he was already settling in.

“Oh, come on.” You kicked at the mattress. “You’ve got this nice old mattress right here.”

He narrowed his eyes, clearly enjoying your indignation. “ You’ve got a nice old mattress.” Then he smirked, playing his trump card. “I’m the boyfriend. So I should get the bed with her.”

“By that logic, I’m the best friend,” you countered. “Therefore, I should get the bed.”

Powder glanced over her shoulder, her face split into a wide grin. “Flip a coin for it. I don’t care who gets the bed or not.” Then, as if anticipating neither of you would back down, she added, “Both of you can sleep on the floor if you really want.”

Her teasing pulled the tension out of the air, and Ekko shot you a victorious smirk as he rolled to the center to take up even more room.

You rolled your eyes, giving up the fight for now.

As the moment passed, your gaze drifted back to her desk. Amid the usual chaos of supplies and half-finished projects was something new: an open gift box. Curious, you stepped closer.

Inside was a framed collage, a carefully arranged mix of photos and clippings. There were pictures from Powder’s childhood, moments preserved from long-forgotten holidays and all the Christmases Vander and your parents had documented. A mix of photos showed her with her family, you, and Ekko in the snow. There were clippings of ribbons Powder used to wear in her hair, pressed flat against the collage, and notes you didn’t recognize.

“This is so cute,” you said, your curiosity piqued. “Who gave you that?”

Powder glanced up from the bed, her grin softening. “Vi. She gave it to me early—said she couldn’t wait until Christmas.”

Her tone was casual, but there was a warmth in her eyes as she spoke.

“Vi made that?” you asked, surprised.

Powder nodded. “She’s got her moments, you know.”

Ekko leaned back against the wall, chuckling. “You sound surprised. Vi’s the most sentimental person in this house.”

You blinked, caught off guard, your gaze flicking back to the collage. The little details stood out now—tiny notes scribbled in the margins of photos, careful placements that could only come from someone who knew Powder inside and out.

The realization settled slowly in your chest, like the soft weight of something long overdue. In the past few months, you’d let Vi’s tough act make a fool of you. You’d seen her through a lens warped by anger and frustration, letting her sharp edges and rough words overshadow everything else.

But you were wrong. You’d always known that, deep down.

Growing up, Vi had been a force of nature. Unstoppable, brooding, fierce in everything she did. She carried herself like someone who didn’t know how to back down, who didn’t know how to break. And maybe, as a kid, you’d believed that too—that she couldn’t break, that she was untouchable. But even then, there had been moments that broke through the storm, glimpses of the person she really was.

She’d always been the first to defend Powder when other kids teased her. She’d always been the one to step in when fights got too rough, when someone was about to cross a line they couldn’t take back. She was the one who stayed up late patching up scrapes and bruises with whatever supplies she could scrounge up, her hands gentler than you’d expected them to be.

Vi had always cared. Too much, maybe.

Her choices didn’t come from cold calculation or detached logic. She wasn’t distant. She wasn’t indifferent. Everything she did was rooted in emotion—raw, messy, overwhelming emotion that she couldn’t always hide. The same fire that made her so strong was the thing that burned her most. And somehow, you’d forgotten that.

Maybe it was because she played you. After all, she used you, used you like some toy until none of your tricks worked anymore. Until she got bored, you think.

Sorry, can’t keep doing this.

It had been months and the note is still tethered in your mind.

Powder, though, had never stopped seeing her for who she was. Powder fucking worshipped Violet. She always had. Even when they bickered, even when Vi’s temper flared, Powder talked about her like she was invincible. Her superhero big sister, the one who could do no wrong, who could fix anything.

To you, Vi had been more than a superhero. She’d been a storm. Something to admire from a safe distance, to watch in awe as she tore through the world around her. She was all the things you weren’t—bold, unyielding, unafraid. And maybe that’s why you couldn’t see her vulnerability. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to forget that she wasn’t just a storm.

Your gaze drifted back to the collage, to the careful placements and tiny notes scribbled in the margins. Every piece of it spoke to how well Vi knew her sister, how much she’d paid attention all these years, even when it looked like she wasn’t watching.

For all her strength, Vi had always been just as vulnerable as the rest of you.

--

Whenever Vi was around, you got quiet.

It wasn’t something you consciously decided. It just… happened. Words that usually came easily suddenly felt too big in your mouth, so when you were younger, you kept them locked behind your teeth.

The Last Drop was always noisy, the usual crowd of patrons filling the air with drunken chatter and the occasional crash of bottles. You weaved your way through the chaos, eyes scanning the room for Powder. She had a habit of disappearing into her projects, sometimes forgetting the world outside entirely, but she usually stuck to places where you could find her.

Though, she wasn’t at her usual corner table.

You hesitated outside the back room, your knuckles brushing against the door. It was already slightly ajar, faint light spilling into the hallway. You debated leaving—Powder would show up eventually, probably dragging some new contraption behind her—but then you heard the low murmur of a familiar voice.

Vi.

Your heart stuttered.

You pushed the door open cautiously, stepping inside. The smell of oil and something acrid lingered in the air, mingling with the warmth from the old, flickering light above. Violet was sitting at the edge of a workbench, her hands occupied with one of Powder’s unfinished gadgets. Her fingers worked with surprising precision , twisting wires together and securing pieces in place.

She looked up when she heard you enter, her sharp blue eyes pinning you in place.

“Looking for powder?”

You nodded, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself. You’d been so prepared to ask Powder if she’d remembered to grab Ekko’s spare slingshot, but now you were just... standing there, your mouth slightly open.

“Is she... here?”

“Yeah, she went to get somthing.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You wanna wait here?”

You nodded again, like it was the only thing you knew how to do.

She kept looking at you, “You can sit, you know.”

There weren’t many places to sit. The workbench was cluttered, and the rest of the room was lined with crates and boxes that didn’t seem sturdy enough to support anyone’s weight.

But then Vi slid over to the side of the workbench, her boots scuffing lightly against the floor as she made space, and she glanced at you expectantly.

You hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, before finally taking a step forward. Your movements felt clumsy like you were an awkward puppet trying to figure out its strings. When you finally sat down, you perched on the very edge of the workbench, choosing the spot farthest from her. Your legs dangled awkwardly, your hands gripping the edge of the bench.

It wasn’t that you were scared of her—not exactly. There was something magnetic about Violet that you couldn’t put into words. Powder had talked about her endlessly, weaving stories that sounded too cool to be true: how Vi could talk her way out of anything or fight her way through anything she couldn’t. How she always stood her ground, even when she was scared. Those stories had made Violet seem larger than life, someone untouchable and unreal.

But now she was here and suddenly all those stories felt real.

You’d only seen her in passing before—a fleeting glimpse in Powder’s hallway or her shadow leaning in through a doorway. Those encounters had been brief, easy to escape. This? There was no escaping this.

Vi must’ve noticed the space you’d intentionally put between you both.

She smiled, slow and lopsided, a faint shake of her head betraying her amusement.

“What’s funny?” you asked, defensive.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice edged with a chuckle. She leaned back on her hands, crossing her legs casually as though to make herself smaller—less intimidating, perhaps. “You’re just… I don’t know. Skittish.”

“I’m not skittish.”

“Right,” she teased.

Your hands curled tighter around the edge of the bench. You could feel your heart pounding so hard you were convinced she could hear it.

“Relax,” she said after a moment, her tone lighter. “I’m not gonna bite.”

“I know,” you blurted out, the words coming out louder than intended.

Vi chuckled softly, shaking her head again. “So,” she began, as if trying to put you at ease, “you and Powder—friends, huh?”

“Best friends.”

“You guys get into trouble?” she asked.

“No,” you said automatically.

Her eyebrows lifted. “You lying?”

“…No.”

The pause was too long to be convincing, and Vi’s smirk widened as she leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees. “Uh-huh,” she murmured, clearly not buying it.

The door creaked open before she could press further, and you turned quickly, grateful for the interruption. Powder burst into the room, a notebook tucked under one arm and a precarious bundle of tools balanced in the other.

“There you are!” she chirped, her voice bubbling with excitement . “You’re not gonna believe this idea I had—”

Without waiting for a response, Powder grabbed your wrist, her grip surprisingly strong as she tugged you toward the door. She barely noticed Vi, too caught up in her excitement as she launched into an explanation of some wild project you only half-understood.

You stumbled after her, but as you reached the doorway, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder.

Vi was still watching you.

Her gaze was steady, her expression unreadable. It scared you. There was something in her eyes that made your stomach flip. Even as the door swung shut behind you, that look stayed with you, leaving a strange heat in its wake.

--

You’d always been a little jealous of how close Powder’s family was.

It wasn’t something you ever voiced aloud—it felt like a betrayal of your own family, even if there wasn’t much to betray. But the truth was that being around them, especially during the holidays, filled a space in you that you hadn’t even realized was empty.

Powder’s family had a way of making everyone feel like they belonged, whether it was Ekko or you slipping into the chaos of their home like you were meant to be there. Despite the worn walls, the mismatched furniture, and the chipped mugs of cocoa on the table, there was a warmth that couldn’t be shaken, a sense of togetherness that was tangible in the air.

They never made you feel like an intruder. In fact, you were certain you’d been assumed into the family years ago when Vander had hung up that photo of you winning your school’s spelling bee. It had a place of honour in the narrow hallway, wedged between photos of Powder’s first fight with Mylo (a blurry shot of fists mid-swing with Claggor and Vi trying to break them apart) and Ekko holding Isha as a baby.

Your photo was still there, a little faded from sunlight streaming through the windows, but it hadn’t budged. Vander’s way of saying you belonged.

The scent of cinnamon hung faintly in the air from Powder’s earlier attempt at baking cookies, but the chaos had only truly ignited when Vander, Silco, Claggor, and Isha returned from their last-minute grocery run.

The front door banged open, letting in a blast of cold December air, and the house erupted into chaos.

Isha launched herself off Claggor’s shoulders the second she spotted you and Ekko lounging on the couch with Powder. She gasped dramatically, her wide eyes shining as she yanked off her hat and darted forward, boots still tracking snow onto the worn rug.

“Shoes off at the door, Isha!” Vander called, his voice half-stern, half-amused as he stepped inside behind her, arms loaded with grocery bags.

Isha ignored him completely, stopping in front of you to tug insistently at your sleeve and point to the bag of snacks Vander had left on the counter. You raised an eyebrow and grinned. “You want first pick? Only if you let me braid your hair later.”

Isha exaggeratedly rolled her eyes but gave you an enthusiastic nod, darting toward the kitchen before Claggor could even put the bags down.

“Didn’t we just clean the floor this morning?” Claggor muttered, shaking his head but smiling. He followed Isha into the kitchen, helping Silco unpack the bags while Mylo hovered nearby, his arm already snagging the bag of candy canes.

“We’re redoing those cookies,” Silco said, his calm voice cutting through Mylo’s protests.

“That’s not on me! Powder was supposed to—”

“You were distracting me!” Powder called from the couch, not even bothering to look away from the movie she and Ekko were half-watching.

“Enough bickering. Let’s just get it done,” Silco said with finality, rolling up his sleeves.

Warm greetings and laughter followed, and eventually, everyone found their way to the living room. It felt like old times—loud, messy, and alive in a way that was uniquely theirs.

You sat cross-legged on the rug, carefully weaving a braid into Isha’s hair. She perched in front of you with exaggerated patience, her fingers tapping on her knees every time you paused to adjust a strand. Every so often, she tilted her head back to glance at the movie, nearly undoing your work.

“Stay still,” you murmured, gently guiding her head back into place.

She groaned dramatically, her hands moving in quick, sharp gestures towards the television.

“You’ll see when it’s done,” you promised, laughing softly. “Almost there.”

Across the room, Powder was curled up on the couch with Ekko behind her, the two of them bundled under a mismatched blanket. Powder sipped from a steaming mug, her eyes half-closed as she relaxed against Ekko’s chest.

“You missed a spot,” Ekko teased, gesturing vaguely toward the braid.

“Quiet, or you’re next,” you shot back with a grin, earning a soft laugh from Powder.

“Next? You think I’d let you near my hair?” Ekko countered, sitting up just enough to look mock-offended.

“Keep talking, and I’ll braid yours while you sleep,” you quipped, finishing Isha’s braid with a quick twist and securing it with a small elastic.

Isha beamed as you let her go, rushing to the mirror by the dining room to inspect your handiwork. She returned moments later with a bright smile and a thumbs-up of approval, spinning dramatically to show off to everyone before plopping back down beside you on the rug.

The room hummed with quiet chatter and the faint crackle of the old TV. Vander sat in the armchair, flipping through the pages of an old, dog-eared book, while Claggor and Mylo argued over whose turn it was to get the snacks from the kitchen. Silco leaned against the wall, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched the scene unfold.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered when Vi would come back home. She always seemed to find her way back eventually, just like everyone else.

But for now, you let yourself sink into the warmth of the room, the sound of Isha’s soft humming beside you, and the way this mismatched family made you feel whole.

--

It was hours later until the house had finally quieted down.

By the time you got ready for bed, everyone else had already found their corners of the house to sleep in. Powder and Ekko had claimed the couch for a while, tangled up under the same blanket, their heads tilted toward one another before they went upstairs. Vander was stretched out in his recliner, his book slipping from his fingers as his snores rumbled softly through the room. Mylo and Claggor had retreated to their rooms. Even Silco, who always seemed to operate on less sleep than anyone else, had disappeared.

The last to go was Isha.

She hadn’t wanted to leave the warmth of the living room, her small hands clutching your sleeve as you led her down the hallway to her bedroom. She’d signed with exaggerated reluctance, dragging her feet just enough to make you laugh softly.

“Come on, you need your beauty sleep,” you had teased, tucking her into the small bed piled high with mismatched blankets. Isha grinned up at you, her eyes bright even in the low light, before closing them as if to humour you.

Once her breathing had evened out, you quietly slipped out of the room, shutting the door just enough to let a sliver of light from the hallway peek through.

And you? You lingered.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you brushed your teeth slowly, watching your reflection in the dim light. The rhythmic swish of the toothbrush and the faint creak of the old floorboards were the only sounds in the stillness. You were taking your time, you realized.

It wasn’t that you weren’t tired. You were—your limbs heavy from the warmth of the house, your eyes drooping slightly. But you’d noticed the way Powder had curled closer to Ekko as the night went on, the soft, shy glances she’d thrown him. They’d barely had a moment alone all evening, and you didn’t want to intrude, not when she’d looked so happy.

So, you stalled.

After rinsing your mouth, you padded quietly into the kitchen, your socked feet barely making a sound on the worn floor. You poured yourself a glass of water, sipping slowly as you glanced out the window. The snow had stopped falling, leaving a soft blanket of white under the moonlight. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel like the whole world was holding its breath.

You set the glass down on the counter, letting your fingers trace the rim absentmindedly. The stillness felt comforting, though admittedly a little lonely.

The soft creak of the front door broke the silence.

You turned, your heart skipping just slightly at the unexpected sound. The door opened slowly, and a familiar figure stepped inside, brushing snow off her jacket.

Vi.

She quietly kicked the door closed behind her, her boots scuffing against the rug as she tugged her gloves off. Her hair was damp with melted snow, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. She looked surprised to see you, her eyes narrowing slightly before recognition softened her expression.

“Oh, hey.”

“Hi.”

You watched as she shed her jacket, revealing the worn sweater she had underneath. She looked good, you realized, in that effortless way she always did. Like she didn’t have to try to draw attention—she just did. You hated that after all this time you still found her maddeningly attractive.

You cleared your throat. “Did you have fun?”

You were trying this new thing called: being mature.

Vi glanced at you, her brows knitting together as if puzzled by your question. It struck you that maybe she’d expected you to ignore her, to keep the peace by staying out of her way. “Oh, yeah. Jayce says hi.”

That tugged a faint smile from you despite yourself. It had been a while since you’d seen or even thought of Jayce, Mel, or the rest of the old crew. Memories stirred—ones you hadn’t decided whether to cherish or bury.

“I figured everyone would be asleep by now,” she said as she moved toward the kitchen, her voice casual but her movements careful, like she was testing the waters.

“They are,” you replied. “I was just… taking my time.”

Vi arched an eyebrow, leaning against the counter beside you, her frame close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating off her. “Taking your time? That’s a new one.”

You rolled your eyes, the teasing curve of her lips unsettling you more than you wanted to admit. “Powder and Ekko looked like they could use some space. I thought I’d give them a chance to… you know, not have me hovering.”

“How considerate of you.”

“I can be nice.”

“Sure you can.”

“Yeah, well, I try,” you said, shifting your weight and crossing your arms as you turned to face her.

The kitchen fell silent. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy, either. She met your gaze, her expression unreadable for a moment. Her gaze on your skin felt like a physical touch, and when it stopped at your lips, a shock of heat went through your body, from the crown of your head down to your toes. Her eyes moved over you like a caress of the summer breeze.

You watched her swallow. You saw her mouth part, her tongue emerging to wet her lips.

All of a sudden, the thought of being civil shattered, crumbling into a heap of raw, unfiltered anger. You were back in your bed that summer, the sunlight streaming through your curtains in lazy, mocking streaks. It was too bright, too cheerful, as if the world hadn’t just caved in on you.

Your eyes zeroed in on that damned note—the one she’d left on your bedside table, shoved beneath an old glass of water. Half-empty. The wet rim of the glass had left its mark, smudging the ink like it was trying to wipe her words away, but they were seared into your mind.

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

Can’t keep doing what ? Can’t keep loving you? Can’t keep seeing the way your ribs were cracking? The skin breaking? The bone snapping? Splintering after each pound of your heart because she was close to you? Because she was kissing you? Because her lips left searing marks for you to remember the longing in her eyes, the blush on her cheeks?

Can’t keep doing what ?

Why couldn’t she take the heart you were giving her? Why couldn't she take it from your hands, blooded at the nails as you tore it from your own chest, strings and veins hoping to attach to hers if she lets you?

Huh.

Maybe you weren’t as over it as you thought.

Even now, the bitterness clawed its way back to the surface, sharp and unrelenting. You remembered the feeling—the quiet, creeping devastation of being blindsided. The hollow ache in your chest as you read her rushed words, so impersonal it felt like a stranger had written them. Not her.

The sharp edge of the memory made you flinch, thrusting you backward, too fast, your hip slamming into the counter. The pain was sharp, wrenching you back to the present. You winced, a pained groan caught in your throat.

“Hey—” Vi moved toward you instinctively, her arms half-raised.

“I should go to bed,” you managed, voice strained and uneven. You reached for your glass, fumbled it into the sink, and winced at the clatter. Frustration rose like a tide, threatening to pull you under.

Vi muttered your name, soft, almost tender. Her hand brushed against your forearm, the barest graze of her fingers sending a shock through you. You jerked back, raising a hand to keep her at a distance.

“You’re still angry,” she said, her voice even, like she was stating a fact.

A bitter laugh escaped you, sharp and cutting. “Shouldn’t I be?”

“Look—”

“What are we doing here, Vi?”

She tilted her head, trying for humour. “Standing in the kitchen?”

You didn’t smile. Couldn’t. “Vi.”

“What?”

“You left me.”

She went stock still. Rigid.

Finally, finally , there you were, hands balled into fists, turning in the middle of the room. Almost a decade’s worth of anger, disappointment, confusion, and, what the hell, maybe a little hatred boiled over, clawing its way out of you before you could stop it.

“ You left me,” you repeated, your voice rising despite yourself. “And I… I had no one to talk to about it. Do you have any idea what that was like?”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“You told me not to tell Powder. You made me promise,” you continued, your voice cracking under the weight of it. “Do you know how fucked up it was to keep that kind of secret from her? From everyone?”

Vi’s jaw tightened, and her lips pressed into a thin, defensive line. “Obviously I know. She’s my sister. What the hell was I supposed to do? Just tell her I was hooking up with her best friend behind her back? How was that gonna go over?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Vi,” you hissed, trying to keep quiet. You threw your hands up, pacing a step away before turning back. “You really think Powder would’ve cared? She idolizes you. She’d have been thrilled if you had just—ugh—grown a pair and said something!”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Vi snapped, “you weren’t the one breaking every unspoken rule of friendship with her. I was. I was lying to her, betraying her—”

“Easy for me? What? And what ?” you shot back, cutting her off. “You think I was just fine with lying to my best friend, pretending nothing was going on? I thought we were doing this together, Vi. But no, you had to make it this big, guilty secret. Like... like I was some dirty fucking secret to you.”

“It wasn’t like that—you weren’t—”

“And then—then you didn’t even have the guts to tell me you were leaving. You just—” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the memory of that note resurfaced, slicing through your chest all over again. You threw your hands in the air, dropping them by your aside, “You left a fucking note and ran off like a fucking pussy.”

Vi flinched at that, but her defences were back up in an instant. “You don’t get it,” she said, her voice lower now, simmering with frustration. “I felt like I was losing myself. Like I was letting both of you down—Powder and you. I thought leaving was the only way to fix it.”

Her being vulnerable made you even angrier. You had thought you were prepared, that magically you’d be able to have a civil conversation that settled the matter in a way that left you with your pride intact and Vi still being the heartless bitch you remembered her as (which you knew was not true at all, but lately you only had that note to remember her by tied with whatever Powder would tell you).

Clearly, you’ve miscalculated.

“You were wrong.”

“I know.”

“And stupid.”

“I get it.”

You took a breath. “I just... I hope we can be civil. For Powder. I’m here because of her. For her. She’s the only reason I came back.”

Vi looked away.

“Goodnight, Violet,” you muttered, brushing past her before she could try to stop you again.

--

You didn’t think you could love anyone more than you loved Powder.

Powder wasn’t just your best friend; she was your gravity, the one who kept you tethered to the earth when everything else threatened to spin out of control. She was the ink blot in the centre of every map you’d ever drawn, the beginning and end of every plan. By the time you were fourteen, the bond between you felt indestructible, like it was woven from a thread that the universe had spun just for the two of you.

You were partners in crime, yes, but also in something deeper: a shared wonder at the world, a refusal to accept its boundaries. Together, you didn’t just dream—you built those dreams. With your hands, your voices, your endless supply of hope, you created things no one else dared to imagine. There were nights when you’d sit under the dim glow of a streetlamp, her head resting on your shoulder, as the two of you scribbled on scraps of stolen paper . Plans for impossible inventions, designs that were part genius, part disaster, but always wholly yours.

It wasn’t just that you loved Powder. It was that she was a part of you. Her laughter lived in your bones, her worries haunted your heart, and her victories felt like your own . She had a way of looking at you, wide-eyed and trusting, that made you believe you could do anything, so long as you did it together.

You both made a mess of things sometimes—scraped knees, singed eyebrows, stolen goods that were more trouble than they were worth. But those moments became stories to tell and retell, memories you carried like talismans against the dark. Because no matter how wild things got, no matter how many alleyways you ran through or rooftops you scrambled over, you always knew Powder would be there at the end of it , laughing, breathless, and shining like the only light you’d ever need.

If there were such a thing as soulmates, you were certain Powder was yours. Not in the way people whispered about under the glow of moonlight—not romantic, not fleeting. But something ancient, bone-deep, like the kind of love that could outlast wars, loss, even time itself. If the world ended, you were sure the two of you would still find a way to survive, together, cobbling something beautiful out of the ruins.

She was your compass, your north star, your reason for believing that things could get better. And you would have done anything for her.

Her room was your second home (much like your own was hers), a chaotic mess of everything that made Powder Powder . The walls were covered in scrawled blueprints pinned up with mismatched tacks, paper edges curling from the humidity of the Lanes.

Above her bed, a row of old family pictures was strung like fairy lights, clipped onto twine with tiny clothespins. The images were faded but warm—Powder as a baby, Powder with Mylo and Claggor, Violet grinning with her arm around a much smaller Powder, Vander and Silco somewhere in the background, a recent one with you and Ekko at each of her sides.

Her desk was a cluttered battleground of unfinished gadgets, scattered tools, and school assignments half-completed and half-forgotten. A worn, stuffed bunny sat propped against one of the desk legs, its button eyes long since replaced with mismatched screws.

On the floor next to the bed, your backpack sat half-open, spilling its contents onto a pile of Powder’s clothes that might as well have been yours by now. The two of you had shared so many hoodies and t-shirts that you barely knew whose was whose anymore.

You were perched on Powder’s bed, the mattress lumpy but familiar, as the sharp scent of nail polish filled the air. Powder’s fingers were smudged with blue from a bottle that had tipped over earlier, and she was trying to paint your nails without dripping polish all over the blanket between you.

“Hold still,” she muttered, her tongue poking out as she concentrated.

“You’re the one making a mess,” you shot back, laughing as you pulled your hand away to examine the streak of polish running down your finger. “This looks awful, Pow. You should’ve let me do this.”

She snatched your hand back with a huff, “Fuck off. It’s not my fault you have twitchy hands.”

With her exaggerated movement, she knocked over the bottle again. Blue polish spilled onto the blanket, spreading in a small puddle.

“Powder!” you exclaimed, though you couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling out of you.

“Oops,” she said with a shrug, clearly not sorry, as she grabbed a rag to clean it up.

The two of you burst into laughter, leaning against each other for balance, the kind that made your ribs ache and your cheeks hurt.

Scattered across the bed were the sketches for her latest invention—a spring-loaded trap designed to “keep Mylo out of my room.” You’d been helping her refine the design all evening, pointing out where the gears might jam or how to reinforce the springs so they wouldn’t snap.

“You think this will actually work?” you asked, picking up one of the schematics and holding it up to the light.

“It’ll work,” Powder said with complete confidence, leaning over to add a few more messy lines to the paper. “It has to... or, y’know, boom.” She grinned like that was the best possible outcome.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help grinning back.

You started to climb out of the bed, shifting carefully so you didn’t disturb the scattered nail polish bottles or the sketches on the blanket. Before you could get your balance, Powder jabbed a foot into your side with a mischievous grin, sending you sprawling onto the floor with a loud thud .

“Powder!” you groaned, rubbing your arm where you landed on the corner of a notebook.

Her response was to double over with laughter, the sound light and uncontrollable. “Sorry, sorry,” she wheezed, though the glint in her eye said otherwise. “You made it too easy!”

You grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at her, hitting her square in the face. Powder let out a dramatic gasp, clutching the pillow as it had wounded her. “Oh, you bitch!” she declared, launching herself off the bed and tackling you back onto the floor.

The two of you wrestled in a storm of laughter and flailing limbs, your voices loud enough to rattle the pictures on her wall. At some point, she managed to pin you down, her blue-stained fingers triumphantly waving the pillow above her head.

A sharp bang came from the wall, followed by Mylo’s muffled voice. “Shut the fuck up! Some of us are trying to sleep!”

You both froze for a moment before bursting into another fit of uncontrollable giggles, clutching your stomachs as you rolled away from each other.

“I can’t breathe,” you gasped, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.

Powder flopped onto her back, still giggling. “Mylo’s such a loser.”

When the laughter finally began to subside, your stomach growled loud enough for her to hear. You groaned in embarrassment while Powder perked up, her expression instantly brightening.

“Thank god,” she said, leaping to her feet and tossing the pillow onto the bed. “I’m starving.”

She bounded toward the door, knocking over a sketchbook you were sure belonged to Ekko and a bottle of glitter glue on her way. You sat up, still catching your breath, and watched as she paused at the doorframe, turning back to wave you over.

“C’mon, slowpoke,” she teased. “Don’t make me eat by myself.”

The promise of food was enough to spur you into action. You scrambled to your feet, brushing off the stray bits of blanket fuzz clinging to your pyjamas, and followed her out.

The hallway was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlights outside filtering through cracked blinds. The air smelled faintly of Vander’s cigars mixed with the tantalizing aroma of whatever takeout Claggor ordered was waiting downstairs. Powder’s footsteps were quick and uneven as she hopped down the stairs two at a time, her voice echoing back to you.

“What d’you think they got? Noodles? Oh, maybe dumplings! Or those buns—what’re they called? The ones with the pork inside?”

“Bao?” you offered, gripping the railing to keep from tripping over a stray shoe someone had left on the stairs.

“Yeah, those!” she called over her shoulder.

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, the smell of food was stronger, warm and savoury, wrapping around you like a hug. Powder darted into the living room ahead of you, but you stopped in your tracks as soon as you rounded the corner.

Violet was sprawled across the couch, her legs up on the armrest. Her boots were still on, the scuffed soles pressed into the worn cushions. Pink hair tumbled loosely around her face, half-obscuring her sharp features as she leaned back with a dumpling poised between her fingers. Her eyes flicked to yours mid-bite, and her smirk was immediate.

Beside her, Caitlyn sat upright, a contrast to Vi’s casual sprawl on her lap. Caitlyn’s dark hair was neatly tied back, and she rested one hand lightly on Vi’s hair. Together, they looked so at ease, so entwined in their quiet dynamic that it made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t quite understand—or didn’t want to.

“Well, well,” Vi drawled, her voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt. “Look who decided to join the party.” Her eyes roamed over you and Powder, and her grin widened, sharp and almost playful.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You had seen them together before, but there was something about seeing them like this—so comfortable, so casual—that left you rooted to the spot. You glanced at Powder, silently begging for an anchor, but she was already tearing into the takeout bags on the table.

“Finally!” Powder exclaimed, holding up a box of noodles like it was treasure. She dropped to the floor without hesitation, crossing her legs and pulling the box into her lap.

She glanced pointedly at Vi and Caitlyn, rolling her eyes. “Are you two gonna take that upstairs, or do we have to suffer through whatever this is during our dinner?” She gestured vaguely at the space (or lack of) between them, nose scrunching in disgust.

Vi scoffed, stuffing the rest of the dumpling into her mouth. “We were here first,” she said, words slightly muffled.

“I don’t care.”

Vi leaned back further into the couch, looking entirely unbothered. “We’re not moving, Pow.”

You tried to ignore the way your chest tightened as you shuffled closer to Powder, grabbing the first takeout box your hand landed on. Powder nudged you with her elbow, grinning conspiratorially. “Ignore them,” she whispered, her tone light and dismissive.

And you did.

You ignored them for months, maybe even years. You ignored the way your stomach twisted itself into knots every time Vi was near. You ignored the lingering glances, the lazy smirks, and the moments that felt too heavy for what they were.

You ignored her when she stopped calling you “Powder’s friend” and started using your name instead—when she started seeing you not as an extension of her sister, but as your own person.

Maybe it was better off when she never saw you as such.

--

You figured (because you didn’t know how to act around Violet without wanting to scream and tear your own hair out) that the best way to be civil was to fall back on old habits. Childish habits, sure, but perhaps the most mature option available—given that talking about feelings had not worked out the way you’d hoped. For now, ignoring Vi entirely seemed like the safest bet.

When she walked into a room, you made it a point to walk out into another. If leaving wasn’t an option, you buried your nose further into whatever book was in your hands. Maybe Vander needed help in the kitchen, or Powder needed a hand with one of her endless projects. Claggor’s choice of movie—one you’d initially deemed boring—suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world.

It was a tactic you’d mastered as a kid. And if you were being honest, you blamed Powder for it. She’d started this habit of avoiding Vi, and it had rubbed off on you. Whenever a flash of pink hair crossed the corner of your vision, you’d instinctively turn the other way.

Back then, the reason was simple: Powder hated Caitlyn. Vi never seemed to go anywhere without her, so to show her disapproval, Powder avoided her sister like the plague and gave her the silent treatment for weeks—months, even. Naturally, being attached at the hip with Powder meant you also ignored Vi with just as much vigour. Though, of course, your reasons had always been different. They still were.

You were reminded of those days the next morning when you and Claggor exchanged knowing glances, your silent conversation punctuated by the sound of yelling from upstairs. Over the hum of the television, you could just barely make out Vi and Powder arguing about something as ridiculous as “ my jacket! ” and “ it’s not yours! ”

It is not exactly an uncommon occurrence in the household. Powder and Vi fought over stupid things all the time, and you inevitably got dragged into the middle of it.

Before long, Powder stomped down the stairs, rubbing at her eyes and grumbling under her breath. Spotting you on the couch, her expression brightened, a mischievous glint lighting up her tired face. “Wanna get out of here for a bit? See if any shops are still open? Or just... walk around?”

You opened your mouth, ready to point out that it was freezing outside, that the snow had to be inches high by now—but you caught the desperate edge in her tone, the almost pleading look in her eyes, and swallowed the protest.

“Sure,” you said instead, pushing yourself off the couch.

Getting ready was quick enough, though you couldn’t resist giving Ekko a side-eye as he sprawled across Powder’s bed, snoring lightly with one arm draped lazily over his face. You were lacing up your boots when the door swung open, and Vi appeared in the frame.

She froze for a moment when she saw you sitting at Powder’s desk instead of her sister. Her eyes flicked across the room, taking in the scene—the absence of Powder, the half-packed bag on the bed.

“Where’s—?”

“Bathroom,” you replied curtly, not bothering to turn fully around.

“Right.”

You expected her to leave after that. But as you turned back to the mirror over Powder’s vanity, adjusting your scarf, you caught Vi lingering in the doorway in your reflection.

It was so reminiscent of when you were kids that it made your chest ache. Back then, you ignored her when she barged into Powder’s room during your sleepovers, teasing her little sister with her typical swagger and throwing offhand comments that always seemed to be aimed at you.

Powder, immune to Vi’s antics, would roll her eyes and brush her off. You, on the other hand, weren’t so lucky. Heat would creep up your neck, and you’d stumble over your words when Vi’s gaze lingered on you for just a second too long.

Now, Vi’s presence was quieter, more uncertain. She didn’t tease like she used to, but her lingering still made your heart stutter.

“You guys going out?”

“Yeah.”

You fell back into the old routine more smoothly than you’d anticipated, and a small, self-satisfied part of you almost wanted to pat yourself on the back. It was easier this way—one-word answers, your refusal to meet her gaze, to acknowledge her properly.

For a moment, you wondered if she noticed.

“Where you going?”

“Dunno.”

“Not many places open. ’Cause of the snow.”

“Mm.”

“Yeah, might start snowing again tonight, too.”

“ Cool .”

It was a rhythm you knew well, a game of evasion and clipped responses that kept you safely guarded. But then she threw you off balance.

“Do you need a ride?”

That made you pause. The unexpected question broke the rhythm, and your routine faltered. Against your better judgment, you glanced at her—just briefly—from the mirror. A mistake. She was still in her pyjamas, red plaid pants slung low on her hips, and a worn tank that clung to her in a way that made your breath hitch. You stared longer than you should have, breaking one of your unspoken rules.

Her smirk, subtle but unmistakable, told you she noticed.

You scowled, turning your eyes back to the mirror. “Ask Powder,” you muttered. “I don’t know where we’re going.”

You hated how your voice betrayed you, a little too soft, a little too unsure.

“We’re taking Isha skating,” Powder chimed in as she walked into the room, her tone matter-of-fact.

Isha followed close behind, bundled in layers with a stride full of swagger and a bright scarf hanging loosely around her neck. She walked straight up to Vi, a grin lighting up her face, and promptly took off her own hat, stretching onto her toes to jump and plop it onto Vi’s head.

Vi froze for a moment, surprised, before reaching up to adjust the too-small hat, her fingers brushing against the wool. “Thanks, squirt,” she murmured, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips.

Isha just smirked, stepping back and crossing her arms with a triumphant air, clearly pleased with herself.

Powder barely spared her older sister another glance as she sauntered further in, kicking Ekko’s side as she passed. “Wake up, lazy,” she grumbled.

Ekko jolted awake with a groan, rubbing his face as Isha launched herself onto the bed. Her delighted squeal filled the room as she climbed over Ekko, her tiny hands tugging at his shirt to get his attention.

Meanwhile, Powder turned to Vi, hands on her hips, her expression unreadable. “You can come if you want,” she said with a shrug, her voice casual but edged with something more.

It was her way of forgiving her—or maybe apologizing. You could never quite tell. You hadn’t caught enough of their fight to figure out who’d been in the wrong this time.

Vi seemed to hesitate, her gaze flickering between you, Powder, and Isha, who was now giggling uncontrollably as Ekko tried to tickle her.

You sighed quietly to yourself. Skating sounded like a good escape. You loved it, always had, and the thought of gliding across the ice under the open sky was tempting. But the whole point of agreeing to Powder’s idea was to avoid Violet—not to end up skating in circles around her.

--

It was hard to ignore Vi the spring she got her first tattoo.

It was a simple design that spiralled around the back of her forearm. It was understated but bold, much like Vi herself. For weeks after, more tattoos appeared—on her shoulders, the side of her neck, her back. Piercings too. The ink seemed to mark milestones in her life that you weren’t a part of, reminders of how much she’d changed while you’d stayed tethered to the same place.

When your parents invited Powder’s family over for a barbecue and swim by the time summer came around, you tried your hardest to ignore her there too.

It wasn’t easy with the way the sunlight glinted off the ink on her shoulders, the intricate patterns shifting and coming alive whenever she moved. Her back muscles flexed when she leaned over to grab a drink from the cooler, her damp hair sticking to her neck in a way that made your stomach twist—a sleeveless shirt and boy shorts that showed off the tattoos snaking along her arms and neck.

And then there was Caitlyn.

She arrived with Vi, stepping out of the same car with a soft laugh that carried across the yard. Tall, composed, and impossibly pretty, Caitlyn’s presence lit up the space in a way that felt both magnetic and infuriating. Her fitted sundress swayed as she walked, fuck she was so perfect.

You liked Caitlyn.

She was kind, posh in that way that only people from richer side of the city seemed to be, and, sure, a little ignorant at times—but she had an earnestness about her that made it hard to hold it against her. She listened, really listened. She was understanding, and she was considerate.

She’d never given you a reason not to like her. Well, Powder might have a list if you asked her—snide little remarks about her polished accent or her insistence on “doing things properly.” But Powder’s grievances never carried any real weight, not to you. Caitlyn wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t trying to be, and that made it easier to like her.

You liked the way she did her makeup. When you mentioned it once, offhandedly, she lit up like you’d given her the highest compliment. “I could teach you, if you’d like,” she’d offered, her voice soft and a little shy, as if she wasn’t sure you’d accept.

Whenever she slept over at Powder’s house, she’d take you by the hand, leading you to the cramped little bathroom with its flickering bulb and streaky mirror (which Silco had fixed now). Out came her makeup bag, an immaculate little case filled with powders and brushes that looked impossibly fancy.

“Close your eyes,” she’d say, her tone somewhere between playful and professional.

You already knew how to do your own makeup—of course you did—but there was something comforting in the way Caitlyn worked. The gentle pressure of her fingers tilting your chin, the soft brushes grazing your skin, the quiet hum of concentration she always had. Her style never quite suited your face the way it suited hers but you didn’t mind. You liked the ritual of it, the way it felt like a secret just for the two of you.

More than that, you liked the way she tried. She tried to know you , to understand the patchwork family Powder had built around herself. She made the effort in ways that felt deliberate, and thoughtful, and it was hard not to respect that.

You liked to think she was your friend.

Caitlyn looped her arm casually through Vi’s, leaning in to whisper something that made Vi chuckle—a rare, unguarded sound that carried over the backyard.

Powder, bobbing beside you in the pool, nudged your shoulder with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

“Oh, there they go again,” she scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain.

You tried not to react, forcing your gaze away from Vi and Caitlyn. Instead, you focused on the sunlight dancing across the water’s surface, glinting like shards of glass as it clung to your skin. “What?” you muttered, keeping your tone as flat as possible .

Powder tilted her head toward the scene. “I wish they’d get a room or something. It’s fucking disgusting.”

“Come on, Pow, they’re just talking,” Ekko chimed in, sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet submerged in the water. He leaned back lazily, his sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Talking leads to cuddling,” Powder grumbled, crossing her arms as she floated beside you. “And cuddling leads to kissing. And we all know where that leads to.”

“Gross,” you muttered under your breath before splashing her, the water catching her square in the face.

“I’m just saying,” she shot back, blinking water from her lashes. “They’re gross.”

“You’re her sister, of course you’re gonna find it gross,” Ekko reminded her.

Powder huffed, her brow furrowing. “No, it’s gross because I don’t think Caitlyn’s good for her.”

“And you know who’s good for Vi?”

“Of course I do,” she said matter-of-factly, her tone so self-assured it nearly made you laugh. “Just like I know Gert’s good for Mylo if he’d stop being a little pussy about it.”

You followed her gaze to where Mylo stood by Claggor near the grill, the two of them peering into the barbecue. Mylo was trying (and failing) to sneak a piece of food before it was ready.

“I love your way with words,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“Thank you,” Powder replied brightly, poking your side. Then her grin faltered, and she sighed. “But seriously. It’s like I have to wrestle her for Vi’s attention. And it’s annoying.”

--

You’d tied your skates too tight. Not intentionally—at least, that’s what you told yourself—but enough that your feet screamed. The blinding ache radiated up your calves, sharp and unrelenting, and you welcomed it. Maybe if you focused on the pain, it could drown out the storm brewing in your chest, the bitterness, the ache of everything else you didn’t want to feel. Maybe even how fucking cold it was outside.

Every step sent a throb through your legs, forcing you to clench your jaw until your teeth ground together. Ahead, Powder and Ekko laughed as they circled the rink, Isha wedged between them, tugging at their hands to keep herself upright. Her gleeful giggles floated back to you, light and carefree.

You stumbled again, catching your balance just in time to avoid another fall. That was the third time in the past ten minutes. The third damn time. You weren’t bad at skating—far from it, actually. Normally, you glide over the ice with ease, cutting through the rink like a blade. But today, the weight of your mood clung to you like lead, pulling you down, making you clumsier with every step.

You tried to focus on the cold air biting at your cheeks, on the blinding sunlight against the white snow, the rhythmic scrape of skates against the ice, but it did nothing to shake the sourness coiling tighter and tighter in your gut.

You were mid-stumble, arms flailing slightly as you tried to catch yourself again when the faintest whiff of something familiar hit you—cologne, earthy and faintly sweet. And then, beside you, came the sound of old, busted hockey skates carving through the ice.

Of all the bad luck…

“Hey,” came Vi’s voice, “you okay?”

You didn’t turn to look at her. Barely spared her a glance out of the corner of your eye.

“Fine.”

She didn’t leave. Of course, she didn’t. Instead, she lingered, her presence as irritating as the ache in your feet.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, skating closer, her voice quieter now but still persistent.

You sighed heavily, exasperated. “My feet hurt.”

“You wanna sit?”

“No.”

She let out a breath—sharp, annoyed, and entirely too familiar. “Fine.”

She didn’t skate away, though. She stayed right where she was, matching your pace despite the wobble in your steps. Her silence gnawed at you, scraping at the edges of your resolve like sandpaper.

You tightened your grip on the thought—the hope—that she’d eventually leave, that she’d get bored and skate off to join Powder or Isha. But she didn’t. Instead, she stayed, her presence an infuriating reminder of everything you were trying to forget.

You clenched your jaw and pushed forward, ignoring the sting in your feet, ignoring her, ignoring everything except the dull thud of your skates against the ice.

But then your skate caught on a groove in the ice, a small imperfection that sent you lurching forward. Your heart jumped into your throat as your arms flailed for balance.

Before you could hit the ice, a hand shot out, firm and steady, catching your elbow. Vi steadied you without a word, her grip warm and grounding even through the layers of your jacket.

“Thanks,” you muttered, pulling your arm away as if her touch burned.

She gave a faint nod, her expression unreadable, her eyes flickering to you before glancing ahead. You opened your mouth to speak, to say something—anything—but the words twisted up inside you, tangling with the bitterness that had settled in your chest.

You wanted to talk to her. You really did. But what would you even say? You’d already tried last night, hadn’t you? Tried to bridge the gap, to ask questions you weren’t ready to hear the answers to. And it had all fallen flat.

You wanted to hate her, too, to let the anger you’d buried beneath your sadness take root and keep you standing tall. But then she went and did this—acting all nice, like nothing had happened. Like you were still just Powder’s best friend, and by extension, her friend too. Like you hadn’t been broken by her absence, her coldness, her silence.

Your mind betrayed you, slipping back to the moments you wished you could share. You wanted to tell her about college. About the awkward first dates Powder still teased you about, the bad ones you couldn’t even laugh about yet. Maybe you even wanted her to tease you, to laugh along, like she used to.

But the thought of wanting that, of still wanting her, stung.

“You sure you’re fine?” she asked, her voice cutting through the haze in your head. It was softer this time, almost tender, and it sent a pang through your chest.

“Just thinking…” you replied, your words trailing off.

“About?”

You .

The thought alone made your jaw tighten and your scowl to deepen, the bitter ache winding tighter around your ribs. Why couldn’t you let it go? Why couldn’t you just move on? You’d told yourself you had. But now, here you were, on this damn rink, feeling every fracture of what had once been, with Vi skating beside you as if she had no idea. She must know.

She must know.

Why was she being so nice? Why was she looking at you like that? Like she cared? She didn’t, not really. If she did, why did she leave? Why did she care so much about what someone else had to say?

Maybe you shouldn’t have come back. Maybe you should’ve stayed with your parents for Christmas. Maybe you should’ve gone to some sunny, beach-side retreat and pretended to enjoy the holidays while being surrounded by strangers.

Shit, maybe you were the problem.

You blinked, startled back to reality by a kid skating too close and brushing against your arm. The rink was alive with motion—kids wobbling precariously as parents held their hands, teenagers zipping by in pairs, the sound of laughter mingling with the scrape of skates on ice. The faint, frosty smell of winter mingled with the warmth of spiced cocoa from the rink’s concession stand.

You took a sharp breath, your focus shifting to Vi, who was already watching you. Her brows were furrowed, a small line forming between them, her concern evident.

As if she cared.

Did she? Could she?

You clenched your fists, willing yourself not to scowl again, not to let her see the turmoil you were struggling to keep buried. You tried to be mature, to play it cool, to remind yourself you were over this. Over her.

“Nothin’,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Vi didn’t press. She just nodded slightly and kept skating beside you, her presence steady but silent.

Ahead, Powder waved with both hands, her grin stretching wide as Isha spun in a shaky circle beside her. Powder’s voice carried over the cold air, calling your names.

You didn’t wave back. You couldn’t. The weight in your chest held you down, rooted you to the ice even as your skates moved forward.

But Vi didn’t leave. She stayed right there, keeping pace with you, her quiet persistence chipping away at the edges of your resolve.

You wonder if you did the same for her.

--

The music was loud—too loud—but that was part of the charm. The thumping bass rattled through your ribcage, shaking you from the inside out, while the floor beneath you trembled with the rhythm of countless feet jumping in sync. You could feel the music in your blood, like a heartbeat that wasn’t your own, each beat pushing you higher, pulling you deeper into the chaos.

You loved to party with Powder.

Her hand was a lifeline, gripping yours tightly as the two of you wove through the throng of swaying bodies, your drinks sloshing in red solo cups that were more a suggestion of something to hold than something to drink. The cheap alcohol inside had long since gone warm, sticky trails of it slipping down your wrists every time you threw your hands up or spun around.

Your hair clung to your damp forehead, strands sticking to the sweat glistening on your skin. Powder looked no different—her eyeliner smeared into dark, uneven crescents beneath her eyes, like war paint after a battle. But she was radiant, her laughter sharp and wild, cutting through the pulsing music like a flash of neon.

“C’mon!” she yelled, tugging you toward the centre of the room where the crowd was thickest. Her grin was wide and manic, a spark of mischief in her eyes that made your chest ache with affection. You couldn’t say no to her, not when she looked like that—like the world couldn’t touch her.

The room itself was a haze of sweat, smoke, and bad decisions waiting to happen. The air was thick with the mingling scents of spilled beer, cheap cologne, and something acrid that burned your nose when you passed too close to certain groups. A strobe light pulsed erratically from one corner, painting everything in flashes of harsh white and deep shadow. It made the room feel surreal, like a dream you’d barely remember in the morning.

The house was somebody’s cousin’s or older sibling’s—or maybe it belonged to no one at all . You didn’t know, and you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were here.

She bumped her shoulder into yours, almost sending you stumbling. “You’re not drinking!” she teased, her voice pitched just loud enough to carry over the music.

You raised your cup in mock defence. “You’re spilling half of mine!”

“Then drink faster!” she shot back, her grin turning sly.

You rolled your eyes but took a chug at it anyway, grimacing at the taste. Powder just laughed, tugging you further into the chaos, her energy infectious even as you tried to keep up.

There was a moment where you’d lost her—not that you minded much. You knew she’d find her way back to you eventually. She always did.

Besides, you’d gotten a little distracted under the gaze of someone across the room. You couldn’t even remember how it started—just a fleeting glance that turned into a shared smile, which turned into them crossing the room and you deciding, what the hell, sure.

They weren’t anyone special. Someone from another school, maybe, or a senior you’d seen hanging around but never talked to. The details didn’t matter. What mattered was that their attention was fixed on you, their grin lazy and inviting as they leaned in, a hand brushing against your arm.

It was messy and awkward in the way these things always are , their mouth too eager, your coordination not quite up to par. The taste of cheap beer and stale cigarettes lingered in the kiss, and you couldn’t decide if it was your inexperience or theirs that made it feel more like bumping noses than anything romantic.

Powder would tease you mercilessly—she always did—and you’d roll your eyes and swear her to secrecy after you told her. But in the moment, you let yourself get caught up in it. The noise of the party faded to a dull hum, the kind that thrummed in the back of your head, as their hands slid to your waist.

They leaned in close, the alcohol on their breath mingling with yours as they bridged the gap, their lips brushing against yours hesitantly at first. You weren’t sure who moved first, whether it was them pulling you closer or you tilting your head to meet them. Either way, the kiss deepened quickly—too quickly—teeth clinking awkwardly at one point before you adjusted.

Their mouth was warm but clumsy, lips pressing against yours with more enthusiasm than skill, and you could feel their inexperience mirrored in your own. Their hands fumbled a little at your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt like they weren’t quite sure what to do next. You tried to follow their lead, letting your hands rise to their shoulders, but your grip felt unsure, awkward.

When they tilted their head, the kiss became messier, more eager than graceful. Their lips parted against yours, warm and a little too wet, and you tried to keep up, to mimic the movements, but there was no rhythm to it—just the reckless energy of two people who didn’t know what they were doing but were too stubborn to stop.

“Really?”

The voice cut through the haze like a slap, sharp and incredulous. You broke apart immediately, turning to find Powder standing a few feet away, hands on her hips and an expression caught between disbelief and amusement.

“This is what you’re doing?” she asked, gesturing vaguely at the two of you. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Your face flushed, embarrassment flaring hot under your skin as you stepped back, mumbling some excuse that you knew Powder wouldn’t buy. The person you’d been kissing looked equally mortified, scratching the back of their neck and mumbling a quick, “Uh, yeah, I’ll, um… see you around?” before disappearing into the crowd.

Powder’s grin widened, a strange gleam in her eyes as she sauntered up to you. “You’re so bad at that.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, pushing past her, but she caught your arm and spun you back around.

“I was serious ,” she said, her tone softening just a fraction . “Vi’s here.”

The words hit like a splash of cold water, dousing the buzz that had been warming your limbs. Your stomach dropped, and suddenly you were all too aware of the sticky heat lingering on your skin—the faint smudge of spit at the corners of your mouth, the raw sting of bites pressed too hard against your neck.

“She’s back?”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

You swiped at your lips with the back of your hand, a frantic, clumsy motion like you could erase the evidence before anyone else noticed.

Powder didn’t seem to catch you, or if she did, she didn’t comment. She just grabbed your hand and started dragging you toward the front of the house. “C’mon, we gotta go before she murders half the party looking for us.”

And murder she might. Maybe.

You could already picture her at the door, arms crossed, her expression equal parts exasperation and thinly veiled amusement. Vi had always been good at the whole “annoyed older sibling” act.

But when you saw her standing there, one shoulder propped against the doorframe, your breath caught anyway.

Vi had this way of looking like she didn’t belong anywhere but still owned the space around her. Even in the dim light of the doorway, she seemed to cut through the haze of the party with ease. The leather jacket in her hands hung loose and effortless, but it was her—bigger somehow, more solid—that made your pulse quicken. Her pink hair was shorter, darker, sharper, and something else about her seemed...different. More tattoos? A new piercing glinted on her nose, catching the light briefly before she turned her head, scanning the crowd.

She looked so good it hurt.

Or maybe you were still flustered from before. An ache was pounding deep in your stomach.

You tightened your grip on Powder’s hand, steadying yourself as you stumbled along, her swaying weight leaning into yours. The two of you were a mess—heels clicking unevenly on the tiled floor, shoulders bumping into strangers as you made your way to her. Powder looked ready to pass out, her pale green complexion doing nothing to hide the fact she’d be sick before the night was through.

Vi’s sharp gaze locked onto you both the second you came into view, her face twisting briefly in what could only be described as relief, followed quickly by annoyance. Of course, she was annoyed. She hadn’t come home from college to spend her nights wrangling her little sister and her drunk best friend from parties.

It wasn’t the first time Vi had been the one to pull you both out of the fire, though. Not even close. She had always been the responsible one—or, at least, more responsible than the rest of you. Vander’s wrath or your parents’ disappointment might’ve been enough to scare Powder and you straight for a few days, but Vi had a knack for showing up just in time to spare you from both.

Her boots crunched against the gravel outside as she walked you to the car, her jacket already draped over your shoulders by the time you made it to the front step. You always forgot yours, and she always remembered. The leather was heavy and warm, carrying the faint, clean scent of cologne mixed with something distinctly hers.

Powder, ever the louder of the two of you when drunk, sprawled across the back seat with an arm flung dramatically over her face, slurring about something neither of you could make out. Meanwhile, you sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the blurred glow of streetlights streaked across the glass.

“Thanks for getting us,” you mumbled because Powder would never say it.

Vi glanced at you briefly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Don’t mention it.”

And that was it. The way she said it—the casual ease, the softness that bled through despite herself— it left something twisting inside you.

The first time Vi had done this, you’d only felt gratitude. But as the late-night drives stacked up, the weight of her jacket around your shoulders or the faint, grounding pressure of her hand at your back as she helped you to the car had begun to feel...different.

Powder had caught on quicker than you had. One night, lying sprawled in the back seat as she giggled into the darkness, she slurred, “You know, she only comes to get us so she can see you.”

Vi scoffed, her knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “Yeah, because I’m the only one responsible enough to drive your drunk asses home.”

But Powder’s teasing tone, the slight hitch in Vi’s voice, the way her hands flexed against the leather—it all stuck with you. You weren’t sure if it had been real or just the alcohol messing with your head.

Still, every time she came for you, it left another mark—a small, invisible stain that you couldn’t quite scrub clean.

--

You jumped a little when the basement door swung open, hitting the wall with a sharp thud. The footsteps that followed were loud, purposeful, and unmistakable.

Claggor sighed and paused his game, tugging his headphones down around his neck as he turned in his seat. You let your phone fall to your chest, craning your neck to glance over the back of the couch.

“Asshole,” Mylo muttered under his breath, not even bothering to look up. That was all the confirmation you needed to know who had just come downstairs.

Sure enough, Vi appeared, rounding the corner with a smirk that screamed trouble. On her way to the couch, she casually tugged at Mylo’s hair, earning a sharp “Hey!” as she passed. She didn’t even glance back, instead zeroing in on you and Claggor.

She stood in front of you both, her hair a bit of a mess, likely from the hat she’d been wearing earlier. You could still see the faint pink in her cheeks from the cold.

“Be honest,” she said abruptly, scissors in one hand and the other running through her tangled strands. “Should I cut my hair short again?”

You blinked, thrown off. “What?”

Her eyes stayed on you, wide and expectant, and for a moment, you felt like a deer caught in headlights.

You glanced at Claggor for backup, but he was already turning back to his game. “She’s been going on about this for weeks,” he muttered.

“Why cut it?” you asked, your brow furrowing as you looked back at her.

“It’s getting too long. Too much work,” she said, almost defensively, her fingers combing through her hair as if to prove her point.

“More like half the work,” Mylo quipped from his corner, barely hiding his smirk. “Get it? Because half your head is shaved?”

Vi shot him a glare. “Hilarious.”

You could tell she was trying not to let him derail the conversation, her attention snapping back to you. “What do you think?”

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. The scissors in her hand didn’t help; it made the question feel oddly burdened, like your opinion actually mattered more than it should.

Your mind briefly wandered to earlier that afternoon, in the front seat of Vi’s car after Powder claimed the back with her usual cheeky grin. You’d avoided looking directly at Vi, whose raised eyebrows had been impossible to ignore as she glanced at you, then at Powder. Even in that moment, you couldn’t shake the strange awareness of how close you were when she turned the heat up too high.

It was strange, wasn’t it? How she could act so normal, so at ease, while you felt like you were constantly trying to tread water, pretending not to notice the things that lingered between you. Or the things that didn’t.

“I mean… if you want it shorter, just cut it,” you said.

Her lips twitched, not quite a smirk, not quite a frown. “But will I still look good?”

“Since when do you care about that?” Claggor snorted, shaking his head.

“I’ve always cared,” Vi shot back, a hint of indignation in her voice.

“Sure,” Mylo said, not looking up from his snack. “And that whole ‘I just rolled out of bed’ look? Totally intentional, right?”

“ Mylo ,” Vi said sharply, her tone cutting through the banter.

The way she turned back to you felt purposeful, like she was waiting for your response specifically. You felt the weight of her stare, the way her gaze seemed to linger just a second too long.

“I mean…” You shrugged, hoping to brush off the tension. “You’d probably still look good with a buzzcut.”

Vi snorted, finally cracking a grin. “Now that’s an idea.”

“You’re joking, right?” Claggor said, casting a side-eye glance her way.

“Maybe.” She twirled the scissors once before dropping them onto the coffee table with a clatter. Then, to your surprise, she plopped down next to you, stretching her legs out and leaning back against the couch.

Her knee bumped yours lightly, whether by accident or on purpose, you couldn’t tell.

“You’re so weird,” you muttered under your breath, trying to refocus on your phone. But there was a lump in your throat, and the videos on your screen blurred in your mind.

Even as you kept your eyes down, the heat of her presence next to you was impossible to ignore. It felt too close. Too casual. Like none of it ever mattered to her at all.

--

You tried to ignore the way your stomach twisted—half guilt, half elation—when you heard the news. It was petty, and you hated yourself for it. The announcement had come casually, as most bombshells from Powder did, dropped without ceremony in the middle of an otherwise uneventful afternoon.

“Yeah, Vi and Caitlyn called it quits,” Powder said, her voice muffled as she rummaged through your bag in search of snacks.

You froze mid-sentence, your pencil hovering above the textbook you were pretending to study. The words didn’t register at first, too surreal to process. “What? Why?”

Powder shrugged, unbothered. “Something about Vi not being ‘present.’ Caitlyn said they’re too different.”

She popped a piece of candy into her mouth and moved on, oblivious to the way her words had ignited a storm inside you. Your heart raced, an uncontrollable, traitorous thing, and hope flickered somewhere deep in your chest.

It burned too bright and too fast, like a spark catching dry kindling. You tried to snuff it out before it could grow. It wasn’t fair—least of all to Vi.

But it was hard. Harder still when you saw Vi after you heard the news. She was different then. Softer in some ways, quieter. The razor-sharp edge you remembered had dulled, replaced by a weight she carried in her eyes and the tension she held in her shoulders.

She’d laugh and talk with Vander, Mylo, and Claggor, her walls momentarily lowered in the safety of family. You’d catch glimpses of the old Vi then, the one who teased Powder mercilessly and made terrible puns at the dinner table.

On rare occasions, she’d join you, Ekko and Powder in the living room. Powder had a knack for pulling everyone together, dragging you into the fray whether you wanted to be there or not . The four of you would sprawl across the faded, mismatched couches, watching movies or swapping stories like you used to.

Vi usually lingered on the edges, her presence quiet but unmistakable. She didn’t say much, but her gaze would wander, drifting to you when she thought you weren’t paying attention. It was subtle at first —a flicker of her eyes when you laughed too loudly or wrinkled your nose at one of Ekko’s awful jokes. But once you noticed, you couldn’t unsee it.

Sometimes, during movie nights, the couch would become too crowded, and her leg would press against yours. The warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of your jeans would send your mind spiralling, no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself it meant nothing. She was just sitting there, just existing beside you.

But you knew better. You knew because her faint smile when she caught you snorting at something ridiculous lingered too long. Because the way her eyes softened when Powder teased you felt too deliberate. Because no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that she didn’t mean anything, it was a lie you could never fully believe.

And you hated yourself for it.

But more than that, you hated the way you couldn’t stop hoping.

--

You liked to think you were a handy person—decent with a wrench, quick to come up with ideas—but in comparison to Powder, you didn’t stand much of a chance. She wasn’t just handy; she was an artist with gears and circuits. You’d sketch out a vague plan, and she’d take it, run with it, and create something brilliant. That was why the two of you worked so well together: you dreamed, and she built.

The garage smelled like metal and grease, the air cold enough to make your breath fog. You tugged your sleeves down over your hands, shivering slightly as you handed Powder the screwdriver she’d been reaching for.

“Thanks,” she said without looking up, her blue hair glowing faintly under the harsh light of the overhead lamp. She was hunched over her latest college project—a tangle of wires and gears that looked more like a puzzle than a machine.

You scribbled something in your notebook, half notes and half doodles, glancing up every so often to watch her work. This was how most of your “girls’ nights” went: sitting in the garage, Powder building something while you brainstormed or provided moral support. It was the most comfortable kind of silence.

“What is this thing supposed to do again?” you asked, leaning closer to inspect her progress.

“It’s, uh... complicated,” Powder replied, biting her lip as she fiddled with a circuit board. “Basically, it’s gonna make stuff explode, but, like, in a controlled way.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Controlled explosions. Totally safe.”

She laughed, “Don’t worry, I’m a professional. Sort of.”

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm—her working, you passing tools or holding pieces in place when she needed an extra set of hands. It felt good to have something to focus on, something to do with your hands to keep them from trembling.

But as the minutes ticked by, the silence started to stretch, your thoughts creeping in to fill the gaps. You glanced at Powder, her face scrunched in concentration and felt the words bubbling up before you could stop them.

“Powder,” you said hesitantly.

“Mm?” She didn’t look up, her hands steady as she twisted a screw into place.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something...”

She finally glanced at you, her wide eyes curious. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. “It’s about Vi.”

“Oh.” Powder’s expression shifted into something wary, but she still looked amused. “I think I might know where this is going.”

“You do?”

“You’ve noticed she’s been a real dick lately, yeah?”

You want to nod but Vi has always been a real pain in the ass.

“It’s because she’s been hanging out with Caitlyn again.”

That was nowhere near what you were expecting to hear.

“What?”

“Yeah, something about Caitlyn helping her find a new job or something.”

“Oh,” you said, your throat tightening. “That’s... nice of her.”

“I guess. But you know I’ve never liked her much. She makes Vi act out all the time. It’s weird. You know what she said to me the other day? She said I should focus on stuff that matters, like my ‘actual life,’ whatever that means.” Powder rolled her eyes, her voice taking on a mocking tone. “‘Stop blowing things up, Powder. Stop wasting your time, Powder.’ Something about me being worth more than that or whatever. Like she’s one to talk.”

You forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to your own ears. “She’s just worried about you.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got a crappy way of showing it.” Powder’s hands stilled for a moment, her expression clouding over. “She doesn’t even tell me what’s going on with her anymore. She just... disappears, and when she does show up, she acts like she’s got everything figured out. It’s so annoying. I mean, yeah, they ended on good terms or whatever, but she’s just... spreading a bad vibe around.”

You smiled weakly. “Bad vibe?”

“You know the vibe. It’s obviously bothering you since you brought it up.”

You didn’t stop to tell her that wasn’t what you’d meant.

“Oh, my god,” she added, setting down her tools. “And did you know Caitlyn’s with Maddie now?”

“Maddie? From fucking high school?”

“Yeah, isn’t that crazy?”

“What the hell?”

“Right? That’s what I said! And Vi’s been all moody about it too. See what I mean? Caitlyn brings nothing but trouble.”

You couldn’t help but wonder how much Powder knew about what was going on with Vi. There had been so many blanks in the last few months that you were struggling to put everything together.

“I think Vi’s just mad that her sorry ass got dumped,” Powder added, shrugging.

“What?”

“You never heard this from me though. Vi would kill me if she found out I kill you of all people but... she was seeing someone last summer—she didn’t tell me who—and then it just stopped. She’s been an asshole since. A bigger asshole than she used to be. Serves her right.” Powder grinned, her tone light despite the sting of her words. “And yeah, it’s harsh, but I can say it because she’s my sister.”

You looked away, guilt clawing at your insides. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Powder glanced back at you. “Anyway, did you want to tell me something?”

Your heart stuttered, the weight of your unspoken thoughts pressing down on you like a heavy hand. You opened your mouth, the words trembling on the tip of your tongue, a silent dare you couldn’t quite take. What if this moment shattered, splintered into something jagged and irreparable?

“Uh, yeah,” you said finally, your voice more breathless than you intended. “Just wanted to say thanks for inviting me for the holidays.”

Powder frowned, turning to you fully, “What are you talking about? You always spend Christmas with us.”

You forced a laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “I know. I know, it’s just...” The words tangle themselves in your throat. You screw your eyes shut for a moment, decided to be honest at least. She deserved at least that. “Ever since college started, I feel like I haven’t been the greatest friend in the world.”

“What are y—”

“You know it’s true,” you interrupted, the words rushing out in a jumble as if you might lose the courage to say them if you hesitated. “I haven’t called half as much, and I keep making excuses. It’s not that I don’t want to see you, it’s just... I don’t know.”

Powder set the screwdriver down, her blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not ,” you insisted, the crack in your voice betraying the guilt you’d carried for so long.

“It is ,” she said firmly, her voice taking on the same determined edge she used when defending her inventions from criticism. “Don’t you remember how I used to lash out when high school started? You put up with so much shit from me back then.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the turn in the conversation. “Yeah.”

“Man, I was fucking psycho,” she continued with a wry grin, leaning back on her hands.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you replied, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

“I would,” she said, laughing softly. “I’m surprised you’re still friends with me after all that. I would’ve dumped me in a heartbeat.”

“Of course I’m still friends with you,” you said. “I love you, Pow.”

She tilted her head, her expression softening into something warm and familiar. “Love you too.”

For a moment, the weight in your chest eased, the tension unravelling as her laughter echoed through the garage. Maybe someday, you’d find the right moment to tell her the rest of it—the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say now. Maybe after a drink or two for courage, when the words wouldn’t stick so hard in your throat, you’d tell her everything. And maybe she’d laugh, the same bright, fearless laugh that always pulled you back from the edge.

But not now. Not yet.

part two

[loverboybitch]

ive been so busy and so sleepy but at least ive been spending alot of time with my friends<3.//.

[sgtgarricks]

thinking about free use!johnny...

afab!reader

cw: free use, p in v, overstimulation!!!!!!!!, creampie, degradation but with love, soap being nasty, reader is also nasty, i am reader.

no one look at me.

johnny who starts dating you, who was always flustered and shy when it comes to initiating sex. he doesn't always catch when you ogle him, but when he does, he jumps immediately at the chance.

johnny who coos and nips at you when you wouldn't stop staring at his crotch. he thinks it's so adorable that you're still so shy around him even after dating him for months.

johnny who slowly takes your hand, kisses your fingers and places it on his hardening cock.

"is this what you want bonnie? you need me to fuck you?" he starts kissing your neck slowly when you give him a nod and press yourself closer to him.

johnny who gets a brilliant idea that he brings up to you on a random night.

"what do you think, hen? i think it'd be a great way for you to get more comfortable in asking for it!" he was propping his head on one hand, seemingly unfazed after the intense fucking he gave you few minutes prior.

"i-i'm not sure, johnny... isn't that kinda... degrading for you?" you question, eyes wide staring into johnny's baby blues. unexpectedly, he guffaws and brings a hand to your cheek.

"you're so silly bonnie, course not. 'm offering it for a reason, you don't have to do anything with ir. just know it's always on the table." you squeak when he pinches your cheek and the little shithead just grins at you.

"okay... so, anytime i want? are you sure?"

"aye, i'm sure. anytime you want."

free use!johnny who's genuinely surprised you're taking him up on his offer. it starts off slowly, you snuggle closer to him and mouths at his neck. his neck is slightly damp from the slow kisses you pepper everywhere.

normally, this is where he'd drop everything to pleasure you. but seeing you so needy for him and the thought of you having to beg him for what you want, gets his cock throbbing in his pants.

"johnny..." you whine in his ear, positioning yourself fully on his lap now, "need you so bad..."

and just like that his patience snaps. he flips you over on the couch and takes his shirt off, exposing his delicious abs that you sit up to lick. he holds your head while you continue to grope him all over.

"mmm, so needy... don't worry, 've got ye." he slowly removes you from him and you begin to protest when he places his mouth on your panties. your complaint dies out as you let out a long moan. he rubs you over your panties and places kisses all over your wet pussy.

"so fuckin' wet for me, bonnie." you try to push his head deeper into your pussy and he laughs, "you gotta ask for it." he teases you and runs a finger over your clothed folds.

"johnny, please! want your mouth and fingers in me!" you hear fabric tearing as his mouth latches on your clit. two of his thick fingers slide right in from how wet you are.

"oh, fuck... so good, johnny." you grind your hips into his mouth as his fingers keep pace, fingers curled hitting that gooey spot inside you. he's slobbering all over you, his own hips grinding into the bed.

you feel lightheaded from the stimulation, eyes closing and back arching. johnny's fingers move faster as he makes out with your drooling pussy.

"cum for me, bonnie." and you cum hard. pussy clenching his fingers tightly as juices squirt out all over his fingers and mouth. johnny lets out a moan and instead of stopping moves faster as you come down from your orgasm.

you breathe heavily as johnny slows down. he kisses your pussy gently before coming up to kiss you deeply. you can feel his cock still hard in his pants, but as your hand trails down, his hand stops you.

"not tonight. 'm so proud of you, bonnie." he places a gentle kiss on your forehead and cuddles you.

free use!johnny who, after putting the deal on the table begins to have more sex in a week than he could've imagined. before, you were getting fucked at least four times in a week, but now? he felt like he had unlocked something in you.

the first few weeks, you were still as shy as usual. initiating with slow kisses, pinching his butt, groping his arms. he was more than happy to indulge you. you were getting more confident and it made him happy.

free use!johnny who knows he definitely unleashed a fiend. you were insatiable, kneeling down and unzipping johnny's pants as he was watching the telly.

your head is bobbing up and down on his cock as johnny throws his head back in pleasure. you were drooling and slobbering all over his cock, tears in your eyes and johnny thinks you're the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

he let you set the pace for a few moments before losing control and thrusting into your hot mouth. you choke a little at the thick intrusion but push through as johnny's pace becomes ragged.

"such fuckin' good for me, hen... lettin' me fuck your mouth." you moan at his words, moving faster and licking all over his shaft. johnny whines at the feel of your tongue and thrusts a few more times.

you feel a his hot cum spurting down your throat and you gag at the sudden feeling. johnny groans, both hands gripping your head to keep it still.

after he let out the last few spurts, you slowly remove yourself and lick your lips. johnny was still recovering when you plopped on his lap, kissing his cheeks.

"thank you, johnny."

johnny, still coming down from his high and dazed, can only nod.

"anything f' you."

free use!johnny who doesn't think there would come a day where his cock might actually need a break. the two of you had been fucking like rabbits whenever there was a chance. before he left for work, when he came home, whenever you could find him, you would be on him.

johnny had only taken one step inside the apartment when you immediately dragged him to the couch and sat on his lap.

"bonnie-"

you tug his soft cock out of his pants and slide it along your already wet folds. he grunted when he felt how wet you were, hands immediately grabbing your hips as his tip slides into your warm heat.

"fuck, johnny... you're so big..." you grind your hips into his, matching his thrusts. his thighs were meeting yours with every rise as you use him.

"yeah? y'like my cock?" he grits, fingers playing with your clit.

"y-yeah.. l-love your cock!"

"it's yours, baby.. so take it." he pounds deliciously into your squelching pussy, his tip hitting your cervix. you can feel every throb inside your walls.

neither of you were going to last long, you'd been wet thinking about him all day and the way he keeps hitting your gooey spot has stars dotting your vision.

"'m gonna cum.." you warn him as he begins to move even faster.

"cum for me. cream on my fucking fat cock, baby. make a mess of it." his lips latches onto your nipple, tongue swirling and sucking as his finger draws circles on your clit.

johnny feels when you cum and it draws out his climax. he groans as he can feel cum spurt from his softening cock. he gives one last thrust, plugging you tightly.

he rests his head on your shoulder, panting heavily. he kisses your shoulder gently and was about to slowly pull out when you begin to move again.

your eyes were closed with your hands around his neck when you begin to slowly grind on him again. he groans at the overstimulation, his cock still throbbing.

"fuckin' minx you are..."

"johnny.. please..."

he doesn't think he has anything left in his balls after you drained him. but he's a weak man. he can never say no to you. grunting, he begins to move his hips again.

"so fucking needy... that why you were so shy, hen? didn't want me to know how much you loved my cock?" he says in your ear, regaining his stamina to pull you down onto him as he thrusts up.

"such a slut for my cock, aren't you?" you can't speak. your mouth was perpetually open, head thrown back in pleasure. your thighs were shaking from exhaustion but you couldn't stop yourself from slamming back onto johnny.

he stops moving when you don't respond and you immediately indulge him.

"y-yeah, 'm a slut johnny.. l-love your cock so much!"

he flips you over so you're on your back. you whine when he slips out and he shushes you. he grabs your legs and moves you into a mating press. when he slips back in you gush around him. the couch was positively defiled with how you two were going at it.

"gonna be the death of me.." he mumbles. he was sweating profusely and were you not in a mating press you would've leaned up to smell him. you let him pound you into the couch, content to just lay there and take what he gives you.

it doesn't take long for you to feel your climax coming, your thighs begin to shake and your walls begin to pulsate. instead of speeding up, johnny slows down. opting to lean almost all the way out, before thrusting deeply. each motion sends a glob of his cum out of your pussy and you moan.

eventually, your back arches and you reach your high. your climax triggers johnny's as he cums once more inside your ruined pussy. the both of you weren't speaking anymore, too fucked out to say anything.

he slowly pulls out of you, wincing slightly. he tries to get up but fails and ends up collapsing on your chest. he mumbles something about his balls running out of cum and closes his eyes.

you laugh, content and stroke his hair gently.

"thank you, johnny."

"i think 'm gonna pass out now."

[arahdow]

BE CAREFUL WITH YOUR QUILLS !

Pairing. Sonic x reader, Shadow x reader, Silver x reader, Knuckles x reader

Content. fem!reader. fluff, tiny silly argument in shadow’s, cuddling, overall soft stuff.

Word count. 1.6 k

A/N. writing sonic was the hardest thing i’ve ever done aH idk why!! i’ll make sure to write him more often to get used to his personality aH anywaaay, again, not beta read, i’m really sacrificing my sleep hours for this one sjdjs hope y’all like it!!

SONIC

making you run and accidentally crashing with him.

“Come on! You’re being too slow!” Sonic screamed as he kept on running, his feet moving way too fast for her liking. 

Just a few days ago, the blue hedgehog encouraged his partner to go out for a run together, and she knew he was an athletic man, but this? This was torture.

“Sonic… Wait… I can’t” her feet were moving so slow compared to his, especially when she wasn’t used to running this much. 

“One foot in front of the other! Come on!” Sonic said laughing, as he ran backwards, looking at the girl. She huffed with annoyance, the hedgehog still winning even when running like that!

After a while, the blue animal ran faster and almost disappeared from her sight. The girl took a deep breath and started running faster. Somehow, the fear of getting lost in the forest making her move, helping with adrenaline. Suddenly her body was moving faster than before. Way faster! 

Her body, sadly, started to grow tired quickly because of the energy she was using. Her lower limbs suddenly getting wobbly, but somehow kept running. Out of instinct, she thought.

That was until she realized she was about to crash into a stone wall at the end of the road, it was getting dangerously close!

The girl stretched her arms to cushion the blow. A violent ‘Hey!’ was all she could hear as she crashed, not on a stone wall, but rather a soft body. Sonic’s body to be clear.

He used his own body to soften the crash, but something was wrong.

“Ouch! Wha-”

She looked down and saw one of Sonic’s blue quills stuck on her shoulder. “Damn… Ouch.” 

The animal was sprawled upon her, but quickly recovered to take a look at his injured girlfriend. “Oh, I’m sorry darling,” he said with a sheepish smile, helping her stand up, careful not to mess with the quill. “but it’s kinda your fault to run that fast, thought you were about to destroy time and spac- Ouch! Why are you hitting me!” He said with a pained laugh.

“You’re an asshole! Help me get this out!” She complained, annoyed that the man was making fun of her.

“Aw, don’t be all grumpy, I promise not to make you run again.” He said, pushing her slightly to take her to the infirmary. “Hey, maybe next time you can try Shadow’s air shoe-”

“Don’t even finish that thought.”

SHADOW

silly old couple argument

“Move.” The girl didn’t reply, her gaze focused on the tv. “Get up.”

“Git ip.” she mocked.

The black hedgehog grumbled, sitting really close to her, almost on her.

“Hey-”

“This is my side of the couch, you know that.” He said as he crossed his arms. “I don’t like this channel.”

“You don’t like anything, Shadow.” She complained, not giving him the remote.

They’ve been living together for a year, two years being a couple, and they still bickered like an old couple. It became something usual between them, and it got even worse when speaking of the sofa. There was only this purple sofa in the living room, both her and Shadow liked it, but there was just something about the spot on the far left that was perfect. For both of them.

So if they were together in the house, it was usual for them to fight over the sofa spot, like they were doing now.

“I’m feeling hot, you need to get off of me!”

“I’m not on you, you’re the one occupying my place!”

“Shadow!” she pushed the hedgehog with her shoulder, as he pressed even harder on her.

With a huff, she turned and put her hands on him to push him again, when a quill suddenly pinched her hand. 

“Ow!” She exclaimed, looking at the dark quill stuck on her. “You can have your stupid place on the couch!” the girl said as she stuck her tongue and got up to the kitchen, looking for some tweezers to take the quill out.

Not many long after, the man got into the kitchen, following her, taking her arm in his hand. “Hey-”

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking intently at the sensitive red spot on her hand. Pressing his lips, he brought her hand under the faucet to clean the wound. “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you. Please forgive me.” 

The girl snorted. “It’s alright though, I was just messing with you, but you were seriously pressed, huh? Pressed enough to hurt me.” She said with a fake tone of hurt on her voice.

Shadow rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna let this down, are you?”

She gasped and whined, putting on a pouty face, “Ow! It hurts! Please! Why are you so mean to me?”

“Alright alright, you can have the couch for today.” He sighed, shaking his head with humor.

The girl smiled, her face expression going back to normal. Turning happily, the girl kissed his cheek before running to the couch. “Love you, Shads!” 

SILVER

cuddling after a long day but uh oh…

After a tiring day outside, he wanted nothing more than to be at home, eat the food his girl made for him and spend time with her. It was a simple plan, and the cherry on top? Cuddling with her on bed, his face pressed on her stomach as she threaded his quills.

It was a usual occurrence, both of them lying down in silence, sometimes him laying on her lap, sometimes her on his, but they spent most of their time cheek to cheek.

“Silver…” She whispered, afraid of disturbing him. But he didn’t reply, instead, a soft snore broke his silence.

The girl giggled a bit as she kept on caressing his face and quills. It was times like this where she found herself falling once again for her hedgehog lover. She was actually reading a book on her other hand, so her attention was mostly directed to it.

Being immersed on the story, she got really focused on the sentences, suddenly drifting off from her task on her other hand. She unconsciously made her limb move in erratic ways, as she tried to keep on doing both things at the same time.

That was until she felt a slight sting on her hand. Jolting, she yelped as she retreated her hand from his body. The movement was so sudden, Silver opened his sleepy eyes, sensing something wrong.

Leaning back enough so he could see his partner in the eye, he found instead a look of slight pain as she held her hand in front of her face, a silverish quill stuck on her palm.

“Oh chaos, dear, your hand!” He expressed, incorporating as he held her hand for a bit. Using his telekinesis, he brought the aid kit to bed. Doing a careful procedure, he took the quill out from her hand, making her hiss at the feeling.

“I’m sorry…” He said.

“Don’t be, it was my fault, I was completely distracted by the story.” She replied, looking at the book beside her.

Silver took a look, as he kept patching her hand. “Hey! That’s the book I recommended the other day!” 

“It is! And it’s so good! I really loved it when the protagonist saved the kids from the falling building.” 

“That was my favorite part too!” He said. Both of them laughed and kept on talking about the book. He was really happy to have her in his life.

KNUCKLES

It’s shedding season! And your roomie-bf is in the house!

Cleaning after an echidna warrior was difficult, especially when he kept bringing his dirty shoes inside her home, her food taken, and her bed occupied. But she honestly loved Knuckles company, so she carried on with it.

It was starting to get a whole lot colder outside, as the temperature began to cool down. It was that time of the year where the island became a little snowglobe, so the echidna spent more time at her partner’s home than anywhere else.

Today she needed to do the laundry, piles of dirty clothes started to form, and even though Knuckles tried to convince her to stop using clothes like him, that still wasn’t on her plans, at least not on a short term.

Sighing, she started to walk towards the laundry room, a pile of white clothes on her arms, making seeing the floor almost impossible. Knuckles was sleeping in her room, so she let him. She’ll make him fold the clothes afterwards either way. Sure, she’d let him crash whenever he needed it, but it came with a price.

Opening the door of the room, the girl stepped inside. But she wasn't ready to feel an electric pain coursing from the bottom of her feet to her core. A scared scream left her throat as the pile of clothes fell from her hands. Tripping, the girl fell on her butt with a thud. Not a second later, the echidna was already punching the laundry’s room door, breaking it. His breathing agitated as he saw his significant other on the floor.

“What happened?” He asked, worried that someone might have come into her home. 

The girl crawled, starting to search in between the clothes as she stumbled upon a red quill. Taking it in between her fingers, she showed it to the animal, furrowed eyebrows on her face.

Knuckles saw the quill with curious eyes. “You stepped on a quill of mine?” 

She threw the quill at him, half annoyed. “Of course I did! Don’t go around shedding your stuff please. Look! Now my foot hurts because of it.” She said as she looked at her now destroyed door. “And that too!” The mammal listened to her words, and before she could complain for anything else, he got closer to take the girl in his arms, an easy task for him, and brought her to the sofa. Laying her down, he put a gloved hand on his own chest.

“I’ll take care of the laundry to compensate for it.” He oathed, the girl surprised for his serious face, snorting in the process.

“That’d be nice.” She said, as she looked at her foot, not swollen or anything. “I could help you though-”

“No, you stay there.” He demanded as he strided to the laundry room.

A moment later, he came back stomping to the living room again. 

“Uhm… How does the machine that washes clothes works?”

[shouyuus]

OH MY FUCKKK. college roomate!vi is fucking killing meeee. the last one made me literally squeal when i read about vi's vape 😩😩 i am a silly little smoker myself and i was wondering if you'd write something about vi introducing reader to smoking? like one night they're sitting and talking on the couch, maybe watching a movie or something and vi whips out her lost mary (i KNOW thats what she'd smoke) and reader asks kinda out of nowhere to have a hit, and vi laughs a little and then teaches her how to use it (it is an art form), and their faces keep getting closer and closer and they're basically kissing because they're hitting from the same vape, right? RAAAHHHHHH 😩

college roommate!vi cinematic universe not me having to google the brand but yES ur rite she woULD

+18, no sex but vape usage, mdni

"l-like that?"

"yeah, just like that -- breathe in -- hold it -- breathe out --"

you let out a soft groan, the "cherry peach lemonade" flavored smoke slipping from the corners of your lips in streams, vi's eyes flickering down and back up again, her own lips parted, her pupils dark.

"it's -- it's a good flavor," you say, blinking as you hand the vape back to vi, who grins and takes a long hit, leaning back slow, one hand on the vape, the other slung lazily across the sofa back, letting the smoke unfurl from her mouth. you watch, mesmerized as she rounds out her lips and blows out little smoke rings just to make you laugh.

"yeah, it's nice," vi says, her voice soft as she glances back at you, at the way your eyes have gone just a bit hazy. she leans forward, tugging your chin towards her with a thumb and forefinger, a mischievous grin sweeping across her face.

"open your mouth for me, pretty girl."

you do, letting your mouth fall slack as vi takes another long hit and blows the smoke into your mouth. like this, you can feel the cool of the smoke, the warmth of her breath, the strange duality sending tingles shooting down your back, a coil tightening in your gut as you breath in.

your lashes flutter as the high slips through your body, the weightlessness gathering in your loosening muscles.

"i-i've seen people do that before --" you say, grasping for something to fill the strange, ethereal silence, "at parties," you clarify, hoping for... you're not entirely sure what.

vi chuckles, "yeah? it's called shotgunning. it's... a bit gentler than just taking a hit straight from the vape so --"

she pulls you towards her again, this time, you lean in and your lips are so close you can feel the heat of her skin against yours.

you open your mouth without her prompting, and you don't miss the way her pupils dilate at the motion. and just for a second, you can taste your own heartbeat -- the sweet cherry peach lemonade tang of it at the back of your throat -- before vi's blowing another steady stream of smoke into you and you're breathing it in, tasting her -- wondering if her lips would be just as sweet without all the flavored smoke --

"there... think that's enough for you for tonight?" vi asks, pulling back with a grin.

you lick your lips, glancing at the tv screen.

"we've missed like... half the movie."

vi laughs, grabbing for the remote, "yeah well. we were busy. luckily, there's a rewind button."

you keep quiet as she rewinds through the parts of the movie the both of you missed, your mind a berry-tinted haze of half-formed thoughts. you inch closer to her, pressing your thigh to hers, letting your head drop onto her shoulder.

"thanks, vi," you say, your eyes cast towards the tv but not really seeing it at all.

she stills beneath your touch.

"what for, princess?"

you nuzzle your head deeper into her neck, "nothing just... glad you're here."

after a beat, vi curls an arm around your shoulder and gives you a squeeze.

"i'll always be here, princess. whenever you need me. and even if you don't. got it?"

you giggle, closing your eyes and letting the bright neons of the movie play out behind your eyelids like the passing of so many days and nights.

"i'll always need you, vi... even if you think i don't." and your voice is so, slow, honest. so honest that vi feels her chest squeeze. she settles for brushing her lips along the seam of your hair.

"then i guess we're stuck with each other for the long haul, aren't we princess?"

you let out a sleepy little laugh, nodding.

"yeah. guess we are."

[freakywrites]

Jjk men as subs

did ya hear me?!?! SUBSSSSSSSS WOOOOOOOO (I’m going crazy)

Yk the drill here are the warnings!! ;P

Character- nanami/gojo/suguru

Warning- UNEDITED smut! (Duh) dom reader (double duh) miss use of a human being (nanami) you can read it as fem reader but it’s kinda nb

I feel a little silly and goofy

—————————————

Kento Nanami - human furniture /toys/gagged/orgasm denial/soft dom reader

“Hello how may I help you?” You said sweetly to the person at the other side of the phone. “Mr.Nanami?- Oh, he is a bit busy at the moment.” You replied, setting the vibrators too high. A few whimpers escaped Kentos' gagged drooling mouth. Crossing your legs and placing a hand on his blonde hair, rubbing it gently, trying to soothe his nerves. “Mhm! Yes, I’ll tell him no worries.” You cheered before glaring down at the man that was trying to speak muffled words. “Ok have a nice day~” You spoke smoothly before hanging up.

you bent down to Kento’s face, pulling him gently by the hair. “Hmm last thing I remember is that chairs don’t talk, right? Or am I mistaken?” You said with a gentle voice as the man looked at you with dizzy adoration his face flushed to his forehead, drool hanging from his chin, dripping down to his flush neck.

You leaned on the desk head laying on your hand. You played with the remotes, one connected to the vibrator in his ass the other connected to the toy wrapped around his dick both vibrating intensely. Leaning down, you see his dick twitch inside the toy. You could tell he was close his pre was basically dripping out.

Nanami's body shakes, face hot. He is close so close he feels if he could get his release right now, he would faint. Feverishly, he twitched and hummed at the vibration. oh, how cruel you are. With a click of your tongue, you lowered the intensity of the vibration.

“Can't have you break so soon.” You coo, leaving light touches over his shoulder blade to the shell of his ear, then cupping his face, his brows knitted together eyes rimmed with glossy tears, basically begging you for the flash of bliss he needs. Feeling his shaky breath on your skin as he nuzzled into your palm, you grin.

"Be quite and I'll let you cum."

Suguru Geto - bondage /pegging/degrading/ hard dom reader

Suguru was tied up by red rope his arms behind his back and his face smushed to the ground, body twitch with every thrust of your hips. "That's it- taking it like the fucking slut you are." You said with gritted teeth griping his waist leaving cresent marks on his pale skin.

his head rose up, pink swollen lips moaning your name as you fuck him out his mind. "Ha-hah plea-please-please-please." Suguru pleaded his voice cracking and shaking feeling his head go fuzzy as he felt the throbbing climax rising hot from his groin to his neck and ears.

Suguru’s eyes rolled back as you stroked his worked-out dick crashing your hips deliciously against his ass. "C-Close!" He winced out the climax build up almost painful on his dick. His heavy breathing turning into bitchy little whimpers as you pick up the pace slamming into that sweet spot that made him see stars. "Your close again? What a dirty fucking bod you got Suguru." you teased flipping him over on his back to see his fucked-out face. Spreading his legs wide and pulling him closer to you, watching how he bit his lip when your eyes met.

"So, fucking pretty.” You say breathlessly, pulling one of his legs over your shoulder and leaning down to kiss his lips followed with a playful bite. "Make a mess for me ya?” You asked going down to his chest licking and sucking on his nipple earning a high-pitched whimpering hum. His body arches up as you bit gentle at his sensitive bud his eyes wide and mouth agape as he feels that tight coil in his stomach snap as he spurts out a hot load on his stomach. His body shakes and legs twitch as his last drops of cum spill out of his length as you fuck him through his orgasm. “Fuck- you came so much.” You said slowing down your thrusts kissing his jaw and corner of his lip, his face messy and sleepy.

“that’s it for today, ya?” You said, looking at the red panting man below you.

Satoru Gojo - voyeurism(you)/ feet kissing and licking foot job/ leg riding/brat taming

“F-fuck-need to cum.” Satoru bit his shirt between his teeth as he strokes himself blue eyes looking into yours as you sit pretty on the chair in front of him. “Such a foul mouth you got their Satoru.. is this really exciting to you?” You teased. “N-no you won’t let me fuck you.” He spat as he fist fucks himself. “Oh really? But this thing shows me you’re having fun.” You joke moving your foot to rub at his hard-on.

A rush of pleasure made Satoru shiver and moan out. “h-hah shit!- S-stop that!” He said, grabbing at your thigh, digging his nails into your plush skin. you hummed, stretching out a hand. You pat his fluffy white hair. “How can I? You’re so pretty when you're a mess.” You replied, looking down at the man as his hips grind on your foot desperately. “You’re being mean…” he grumbled as he glared at you through white lashes.

With a relaxed expression, you moved your leg away from him as you spoke. “Now would a mean person let you do this, or would a mean person get up and leave you to yourself?” Crossing your legs, you stare down at him, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration “your choice, Satoru.” You smile.

With a shaky sigh, he began to kiss your foot, starting from the heel to the toes, lapping at them as he stroked himself. He kissed up to your knee gasping when he feels the soul of your foot rub against his tip making him let out whimpers his hips moving up to reach your foot pre cum rubbing onto you. Satoru moved to grip at your thigh as he fucks onto you, dick rubbing at your leg smearing it with his wetness “f-finally” he grunts hips thrust wildely, impatiently for release. You soothe him by rubbing his hair and caressing his face tilting it up to see his light blush on his cheeks dipping your thumb into his mouth to press on his tongue.

Gojo gulped down his pride and pleaded. “O-ok! Stay, please - just... Let me finish - I’ll be good..” He begged, pawing at the chair, looking up at you with blush dusted over his cheeks. With an eye roll, you crumbled and sighed. “..Fine” Satoru’s face lit up, “but” you continued. “You can only cum with my leg- that’s it.” you smile warmly at the distraught looking man on his knees.

“Are you kidding me? No! I want all of you-plea-” You click your tongue. “Do you think you deserve to fuck me? Just this would be enough, yeah? Take it or leave it.” You spat. "Fine!” Gojo pouted, getting into a comfortable position. “Hold it, Satoru.” You said, pushing him away with your foot. “What? I’m doing what I’m told.” He sassed. You pulled up your leg. “Don’t you wanna saver it?” You joke earning an eyeroll from him, but he still obeyed.

“So pretty when you’re worked up” you coo watch the man twitch and gasp as he stares at you his face presses to your knee, his thrusts speeding up with the praise. “ha-ha-ah” he was vocal, his jaw clenched as he breathed in soon to loosen to release choppy moans. You roughly pull him by his hair leaning your body towards his giving him a deep and sloppy kiss which he returned with frantic need drool pooling from the corner of his lips pulling away you huff “that’s it pretty boy” you talk him through the erratic thrusts of his. “Fuck! I’m gonna cum” he said through gritted teeth and you hum rocking your foot up and down his shaft that was wet with saliva and pre cum. “Like a bitch in heat.” You murmur against his lips “come on satoru show me your worth yeah?”

The white haired man’s breath hitched as the burning of climax bursts. His body pulsing as a hot wave crashes through him his nails digging and roaming your skin as spirts of white cum smear on your foot dripping to the floor. You could feel the pulsing against your skin, and you hum as you watch his head drop to your lap

“there there wasn’t that good?” You said softly, rubbing as satoru grumbles and presses his face on your thigh.

—————————————

A/N: Hello did ya miss me? No? ;-;

ANYWAAAYSSS NEW POST >0< (brain rot)

my first time writing foot play and human furniture play… as well as bondage ….and leg ridding…. And pegging…. And…. I'm going to church tmrw :( (deadass)

Gojo was so hard to write sense how the FUCK do I write foot stuff? Is it counted as feet stuff??? Idk

loved everything I wrote here except Gojo’s so happy homie dead (jk…. A little bit ..srry not srry-)

Was gonna do more dudes but I no no wanna :(

BUT LOVE YALL XOXO 💋

[ashwhowrites]

Would you be able to do a mild angsty fic with Steve where he’s self conscious about how hairy his chest is? He’s dating reader but she hasn’t seen him with his shirt off yet and one day maybe someone makes a joke (cuz Steve hasn’t told anyone he’s insecure about it) and reader is like ?? And they’re like oh have you not seen yet? And Steve is awkward and embarrassed for the rest of the day and reader notices. So after they’re alone she asks to see and just kinda runs her hand through it and cuddles into his chest and talks about how sexy she thinks it is and makes him feel good?

I love your stuff so much. Thank you!🙏

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Ladies dig it

Y/N felt like her relationship with Steve was going incredibly well. The connection and attraction were there, stronger than either had felt before. But there was one thing Y/N felt insecure about and she felt silly about it. She hasn't seen Steve without a shirt, like ever. She was worried he was hiding an offensive tattoo or something worse. At first, she thought he wanted to take it slow and she was fine with that. But now they are coming up on three months and nothing. It wasn't like they had to have sex, but at least move forward.

She wasn't going to bring it up, she didn't want to embarrass him. And she was going to let it go and continue to wait. But last night was the final straw.

~

"And Lucas asked, "When did he get so hairy?" And I was like "Right?.....but he says the ladies dig it." Dustin said, telling the story of Max stealing a look at Steve's hairy chest. Y/N felt ridiculous to be jealous of a teenage girl but why the hell was Steve shirtless in front of her?

The gang laughed, except for the couple. Steve felt his cheeks flush red when Y/N stiffened. Dustin noticed the weird look on Y/N's face like she didn't understand the joke.

"Get it? Because we all tell Steve he needs to tame his chest hair!" Dustin explained the joke, leading the group into a fit of laughs.

Y/N, feeling a little annoyed, turned to look at him. Shrugging she teased, "I don't get it because someone won't show me." Steve stared at her with his jaw dropped. He awkwardly laughed and lowered his voice.

"You know me, just wanna go slow."

Y/N accepted the answer, giving him a small kiss. He smiled and pressed his lips against hers. "You're worth the wait."

She was going to leave it alone, but then Dustin spilled the beans that everyone had seen Steve's chest. So why was he only private with her?

Y/N left it alone, figuring it should be a conversation to have in private. As they hung out with the rest of the gang, she noticed how anxious Steve was. He fumbled his words, leg bouncing, and spaced out.

~

Y/N waited for Steve to wake up in the morning before she began questioning. He was half awake when he noticed her sitting next to him with coffee in her hand.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked, his deep morning voice made her shiver. She smiled and pushed back his fluffy hair.

"What happened yesterday? After Dustin's stories about your chest, you got all nervous and awkward. Why don't you want me to see your chest?"

Steve sighed and sat up, looking over at her with puppy eyes. "It's stupid."

She scoffed and waved his comment off, moving closer to cuddle his body as she sat down her coffee on his nightstand. "It is not stupid. Talk to me."

"When I was with other girls I always had a naked chest. And I was single for a good amount of time before I met you so I let the hair grow. I feel better with it but my friends make it seem like it is a bad thing. So now I'm insecure about it." Steve explained, not able to look into his girlfriend's eyes.

"Can I see?" she asked, unable to hold back her smile. Thinking about his chest made her feel warm and excited.

Steve seemed conflicted as she moved to straddle his lap. "I promise you, I'll give you nothing to feel insecure about." The seductive look on her face made Steve less worried. Steve nodded and pulled his shirt over his head.

Steve's ears perked up when Y/N let out a small moan as her eyes took in his hairy chest. There was lust swimming in her eyes and Steve couldn't help but harden underneath her.

"You were right," she smiled, leaning in to speak against his lips. "The ladies dig it." Steve chuckled and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss started getting hot and heavy, making him wish he had shown her sooner.

She pulled away and Steve couldn't help but chase her lips. "May I?" she asked, her hands ghosting over his chest. Steve nodded, holding his breath.

Y/N looked at her hands, teasing Steve as she trailed her nails through the hair. She ran the rest of her hands through, loving the way his body shuttered.

"Feel nice, Stevie boy?" she looked up at him with a smirk. His face was flushed red and he licked his lips.

"Yeah, really nice," Steve whispered. She continued to run her hands through it, obsessed with the way it felt.

"You are incredibly sexy. And so manly," she purred. "Can I show you how much I like it?" She asked, slowly moving off of his lap. Steve watched as she moved down to his legs, hands hovering over his sweatpants.

"Oh god, please," he whined, heart racing as her hands slipped under his sweats.

[screams-of-the-damned84]

(flops on stage) i now present to you my very silly swap au,,,

essentially jasper is now the co-leader of the society who was bitten by a werewolf and is trying to hide it, jekyll is the uni student who got kicked out due to his experiments and then picked up off the streets, etc. jasper and rachel can’t communicate and jekyll and lanyon are living the world’s weirdest horror romcom you’ve ever seen. more info under cut hehe (feat. bad explanations and doodles)

in simpler terms, jekyll and lanyon swap narrative positions (?? is that the right term) with jasper and rachel respectively. (lanyons and rachels swap doesn’t technically work as well as Jekyll’s and jaspers does but shhhhh). Frankenstein becomes the mad scientist that attacks the society and moreau becomes jaspers idol.

longer explanation but WARNING!! it is 3am when i am typing this and i am terrible at explaining. it may be slightly incomprehensible.

so like jasper and rachel founded the society after jasper publishes his research and gets semi famous. two years before current events jasper is out on a research venture and gets bitten by a werewolf. he doesn’t want to scare rachel or the lodgers so he keeps it a secret (to his own detriment). flash forward to now and jasper gets a call to investigate a “creature” terrorizing the streets of london only to find hyde.

before jasper can process the dumpster man he is looking at hyde transforms back into jekyll. jekyll explains that while trying to prove his theory of spiritual alchemy at his university he may or may not have split his own soul. and got kicked out. and is now living on the streets.

jasper, not really knowing what else to do and kinda relating to the poor guy, takes him back to the society. he introduces his co-leader rachel, who pretty much keeps this entire thing up and running. (rachel and jekyll still become friends but she especially takes to hyde. that little brother shaped hole in her heart is still very much present!) then theres the lodgers (idk how they all swap) and then there’s lanyon, a university student at the society because it was mandatory for one of his courses. he is not enjoying it and would very much rather be breaking boy’s hearts back at school. lucky for him tho, there’s jekyll!

this goes about as well as you would expect. lanyon then spends the rest of his stay at the society trying to understand (and woo) the conundrum that is jekyll and hyde. it’s very fluffy and they learn to communicate like jasper and rachel in canon (yippee!)

unfortunately for jasper and rachel, they have been playing the “just friends” game for the last decade. im having a bit of trouble trying to flesh out swap rachel so i don’t really know if she’s in a lavender marriage like canon lanyon is or is estranged/divorced or just single but whatever the case is she likes jasper but thinks he just sees her as a friend while jasper is madly in love with her and is too scared to tell her. this problem has only worsened since jasper got bitten. everyone else tho is aware of how they feel about each other and are stuck witnessing their tortuously long slow burn.

(hyde and lanyon at some point probably come up with a scheme to try and get them to confess. it goes horribly wrong.)

so yeah. this au has been floating around in my head ever since i read the comic for the first time. it mainly came to be because of how well jasper and jekyll parallel each other and because i wanted to draw stupid fluff and older jasper lol.

if anyone has any ideas/questions/etc TELL ME!!!!! this is just a rough idea if you have a better concept go for it awhdvgevd

[s1lly-c0r3]

HI OMG i saw your cuddling post with the tulpar crew and i was kicking my feet LIKEE

CAN I REQUEST UHM the tulpar crew with a clumsy gn reader and how theyd react to reader getting a pretty bad injury?? like, easily bruises, wakes up with random bruises n scratches, keeps falling over/knocking stuff, and one day they get a really bad injury?? i dont mind how they got it!! CAN BE ROMANTIC OR PLATONIC IDM

HOPE THIS IS OKAY GAH I WOULD LOVE TO READ MORE OF UR WRITING 🫶

Omg im so glad you liked it<33 I love this request sm. Not kidding i saw it RUSHED to start writing Remember that this is for entertainment purposes only!!

Clumsiness || Curly, Jimmy, Daisuke, Anya, and Swansea

CURLY

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He seems to always knows when you're upset or in pain.

I mean, he's the captain. How could he NOT notice his beloved partner limping around.

"Did something happen? Are you alright? Have you gone to Anya yet?" - Basically, interrogating you

Made you sit down, crouching in front of you. He imminently finds that injury.

"Oh, hun, what did you do now?"

After he heard you had fallen down the steps whilst wandering, he sighed.

He simply picked you up, if you're hurt, you're not going to hurt yourself more trying to walk around.

He took you to Anya, i mean, he's strict on the roles so it's obvious he's going to have the nurse help!

He stood by you the entire time though, his knuckles nervously pressed against his lips as if you shattered a bone.

Even after bandaged up, he's pampering you and BEGGING you not to get hurt like this anymore.

"Cmon darling, I can understand the minor ones but this? You have to be more careful..."

Keeps you beside him the rest of the day, if you even move an inch he's pulling you closer with a bit of a fear you'll get worse.

JIMMY ┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Didn't notice at first, he doesn't really notice when you're hurt unless you're complaining, and even then, he doesn't do much.

The second you yelped when you stood up he seemed a bit more concerned then usual.

"What? What is it?" - He tried to sound annoyed, but there was a strong sound of worry in his voice

He forces you sit down, his grip a bit too tight.

Instantly inspecting every part of your body until he found the wound on your leg.

"How the fuck do you manage to do this?" He said, a bit pissed you managed to hurt yourself this bad.

He thought it was stupid when you told him you fell down the steps, wanting to smack the shit out of you for being this stupid.

After a sigh and a mental break from how clumsy you manage to be, he stole some items from the medical room (he refuses to let anyone else touch you)

Obviously patched you up, poorly, the attempt is what matters right.

"You're lucky I kinda care about you, don't pull this shit again."

DAISUKE · · ──꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ── · ·

Hes slow, lets face it. He won't notice until he SEES how bad you're limping or you openly complain about the wound

"HUHH?? ARE YOU OKAY??? PLEASE DONT DIE ON ME!!"

Takes you straight to Anya, doesn't even let you explain yourself. Looking as if he's almost in tears begging Anya to save your life.

After he finds out it's just a injury on your leg he's a bit more relieved

Still though, he's clinging onto you for life and pampering you

"Oh god, please don't EVER be that clusmy again bro..."

ANYA •☽──✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧──☾•

She's a nurse, cmon? The second anyone has a bit of a grunt or a limp she knows something is up

"Is something wrong, dear? Did you hurt yourself again?"

She sits you down first, asking where it hurts and feeling the injury

After you explained to her you simply fell down the steps, she couldn't help but chuckle softly at your clumsiness

"Oh dear, how silly of you"

Patched you up after that, even kissing the bandages to "ensure they heal faster"

Wanted you to stay beside her in the medical room the rest of the day, claimed it was so she could make sure you didn't hurt yourself more, it was. But she also need the reassurance you werent going to kill yourself just walking down some steps.

SWANSEA ⊹˚₊‧──────‧₊˚⊹

he's got two kids, noticed the second you limped a bit into the utility room.

Was a bit ticked off you had managed to hurt yourself so badly that you were limping.

Sat you down on a stool, his arms crossed as he acted like you had just snuck out.

"What happened? Did someone hurt you? Did you hurt yourself? Do I need to get anya?"

even after you tried to convince him (he wasn't convinced) it was nothing he still questioned you

Eventually you told him, there was no getting out of it.

"Jesus, kid, you're gonna get yourself killed at this rate."

Patched you up himself, didn't think it was worth bothering anya again

Extremely gentle, though he did flick the back of your head for being so dumb

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GAH THANK YOU ALL FOR THE SUPPORTTTT !!! I finished this up in class so hopefully I didn't make too many mistakes <33