#i put violet through a lot

[dragon-spaghetti]

So if Husk is a trans man, and his kid Violet is from when he was alive ... was he the one who gave birth to her? And does that mean that he wasn't out as a trans man at the time? And that his partner was a man?

He was in fact the one to give birth to her yes, but no one knew he was trans; he kept it hidden and bounced from place to place before anyone could start to question him 💀 he was on his own when Violet was born (terrible idea but he didn't want to risk being outed by going to a hospital)

Omg the partner thing is interesting; they split before husk realised there was a baby in the picture, and the partner never knew. Until me and albo accidentally made a whole arc of said partner wanting to get redeemed at the hotel cause they're also in hell, and now it's a whole thing because a big part of why they split was due to transphobia from the partner but since landing in hell they've realised a lot of that was actually internalised because they are also trans and it is a wholeass arc of this au now LOL

[hikiclawd]

violet doodle

[secondbeatsongs]

as a bi person, the bisexual flag brings me infinite joy and always puts a smile on my face, however as a person who has a Passion for Graphic Design, that undersaturated shade of purple infuriates me when it's used digitally

like, on an actual flag - which was its original purpose - it looks great!

those look fine! lovely, even! with the semi-transparent fabric, the way it catches the sunlight, it looks beautiful!

but now look at how it looks digitally

the pink and blue are so vibrant compared to the sad, lonely lavender!

and let's look at this statement from Michael Page, the creator of the bi flag:

(sidenote: he created this flag in 1998, so if his takes on bisexuality is different from yours, it's okay to notice that! a lot has changed since the 90s when it comes to lived experiences and the way we describe them. but, it's also important to respect his thoughts about this and the way he presented them, even if today, we'd probably not say that bi people "blend unnoticeably into both the gay/lesbian and straight communities.")

so in pantone colors, the pink is 226 C, the blue is 286 C, and the purple of the flag is 258 C.

but...here's the deal

Michael talks here about how the key to understanding the symbolism is to know that the purple blends into both the pink and blue. and on a physical flag, I think you can see that!

but digitally, it absolutely does not blend. it clashes badly, and looks oddly separate from the other two colors.

which got me wondering...what purple do you get if you actually blend 226 C and 286 C?

oh! oh, my god.

look at that! look at how nicely it fits between those colors!

look at it next to the original color scheme! look at how much more vibrant the purple is!

and friends. this is just blending through rgb! you get even more purple variations when you use other color spaces!

let's compare all of them:

(top: original, lab. middle: lrgb, lch. bottom: rgb, hsl)

look at all of the different purple options you can get just by combining these two colors!

if you want almost too-vibrant saturation, you can go hsl, if you want something more relaxed that's closer to the original, you can go lab or lrgb. and if you want to split the difference, lch is bright and violet, while rgb is there with its saturated but darker purple.

anyway, I guess I don't really have a point here? this isn't so much an informational post as it is Me Getting Weird About Colors, but I think it is a useful lesson about how colors look very different on screens compared to how they look on objects in real life.

and sometimes, I think it's okay to compensate for that.

out of all of these, this is my favorite bi flag:

it's the one where the colors were blended in lab color space. for me, the lighter, softer purple is close enough to the original bi flag purple, while also feeling like a smoother blend of the blue and pink

but that's just me! and it might not even look the same to you, since every screen is different, because technology is a nightmare!

anyway, thank you for coming with me on this colorful journey! I will now retreat back to inkscape and make pained sounds about inkstitch gradients until something tangible pulls me back into reality

[madebycloud]

Ex at New Year

violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬⠀ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: a second chance at love. a first chance at happiness. the love of your life is knocking at your door. do you let them in? warnings/themes: fluff and angst, ex lovers, breakup, new years eve, pining lmao, a lot of flashbacks, slightly suggestive, everyone is alive and happy au, modern au, mentions of: smoking, drinking, vi is DOWN BAD! serenading you with a boombox in the rain? yes please words: 24.7k (hell yeah...?) notes: i swear this is so fking sappy man like a hallmark christmas movie or smth like that... forced myself to NOT pull a 'past lives' ending. nyways my friend told me to listen to "ocean's & engines" just to write an angst so yeah... — ✩ part one, part two

The walk to your apartment is a quiet one, neither of you speaking a word. You're both lost in your own thoughts, the only sound being the soft scraping of your shoes on the sidewalk. Finally, you reach your apartment building. You stop in front of the door—the same door she slammed shut and left you behind three months ago.

Your hand automatically reaches for your keys, but your fingers linger, not yet grabbing them.

“So, this is it, huh?”

You nod, your eyes still trained on the door in front of you. “Yeah.”

There's a pause. A long pause before Vi speaks again, “Good night.”

This sucks.

“Good night,” you murmur.

She hesitates, like she wants to say something more. But she doesn't. With a nod, she turns and starts walking away.

You swallow the lump in your throat, finally reaching into your pocket and grabbing your keys. You put the key in the lock and twist the doorknob. The door opens with a soft click, and you're face to face with your lonely apartment. It's dark inside, save for the light that comes in through the window. You step inside, shutting the door behind you.

You take off your shoes, kicking them off to the side. You drag yourself over to your bed, slumping down against the footboard. Your hand fishes into your pocket, pulling out your phone.

Scrolling through your phone, you notice a notification from your mother, sent an hour ago. “How's Vander's Christmas party?” it reads.

You sigh, not really wanting to respond. It's already 1am, but you decide to give your mother a call anyway. After a few rings, she picks up.

“Hello?” her voice rings through the speaker. You can hear the faint noise of a TV in the background.

“Still up watching your favorite show?” 

“You know me,” she replies. “Your father is asleep already,” she pauses before asking, “You're going to come over today, right? I'll cook your favorite dish. You better.”

“Yes, I won't miss it,” your fingers playing absently with a loose thread on your sheets.

She hums on the other side of the line. “How was Christmas Eve at Vander's, by the way?”

You shrug, even though she can't see you. “It was pretty good,” you answer. “Food was good. Mylo and Powder are rowdy as always.”

“Oh, I could imagine,” your mother chuckles. “What about-” suddenly she stops, cutting herself off. “How was... how was Vi?”

You hesitate before answering. “She was... fine.”

There's a long pause, the sound of the TV filling the silence. Finally, she speaks. “And how was it, seeing her again?”

You exhale, staring up at the ceiling. “It was fine,” you say again. “It was just... fine.”

She hums, hearing the lie in your tone. But she doesn't push, not this time. “I see…”

After a moment of silence, you ask, “Mom, can I ask you something?”

Your mother pauses. She senses the seriousness in your tone. “Of course, sweetheart,” she says, the TV shutting off in the background.

You swallow, fiddling with the loose thread on your sheets again. “Hypothetically speaking…” you start. “If an ex asked for another chance... would you give them one? I mean, despite everything that's happened.”

There's a deep breath from the other side of the line, followed by a thoughtful hum. “Hypothetically speaking…” she echoes. “I suppose it would depend on why the relationship ended in the first place.”

“But let's say... hypothetically speaking…” you pause. This is going to sound ridiculous. “You have no idea why they walked away. They just... left, and then they turned up a couple months later, asking for another chance. Would you still let them in?”

Your mom takes a moment to answer. “Hypothetically speaking…” she finally replies. “I think if someone wanted another chance, the least you could do is hear them out. Find out the reason they walked away in the first place.”

“But... isn't that just asking for heartbreak all over again?”

“Not necessarily,” your mom says. “Maybe they finally realized how much they still... care for you.”

You close your eyes, pressing your knuckles against them. “But what if... what if they leave again? what if they change their mind?”

“I suppose that's a risk you'd have to be willing to take.”

“I don't know if I can go through something like that again.”

“Listen, honey,” you can almost hear her shaking her head. “If you don't try... how will you know?”

“I just... don't want to get hurt again,” you say, your voice quivering.

Your mother sighs. “Sometimes taking risks is worth it.” She's quiet for a moment before continuing, “Sometimes people make mistakes. They leave, they come back, they leave again, they come back again... but that's what happens when it comes to love. It's messy, complicated, and sometimes it hurts like hell, but it's also the most beautiful and powerful thing in the world.”

You chew on your lip. “I'm so scared, mom,” you admit. “I don't really know what to do.”

There's another pause, then her voice softens. “Remember when you were six, and you wouldn't go on the big slide at the park?”

You frown, her sudden question confusing you. “Yeah?”

“Remember what I told you?”

Thinking back, you recall the memory. Young you, clutching your mom's hand as the other kids swarmed the slide. You were shaking, too scared you'd fall. Her voice drifts through your memory. “I told you that sometimes it's okay to be scared, but you won't know if you like something if you don't try.”

“Besides,” she had said with a smile. “I'll be right here to catch you if you fall.”

You remember how you nodded then, letting go of her hand and slowly making your way up. You're trembling as you stand at the top of the slide, preparing yourself to go.

Your mother's gentle smile, her encouraging words. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart. Everything will be okay.”

Before you knew it, you were off. You were flying, wind in your hair, laughter bursting from your lips. By the time you reached the bottom, any fear you had was replaced with pure happiness.

True to her word, your mom was there to catch you at the end.

“You loved the slide after that,” she chuckles. “You went down it countless times, right until we had to go home, and I'll tell you now…” Her voice turns serious again. “Even if you're scared and you fall, I'll be right here to catch you, okay?”

“I…” You can feel yourself starting to tear up. “Okay,” you whisper, swallowing back the lump in your throat.

She gives a hum, and you can almost see her nodding. “There's my brave girl,” your mom says, a smile in her voice. “Get some rest, and we'll talk more in the morning, alright?”

“Yeah... okay.” you take a shaky breath. “Thanks, mom. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you. Don't stay up too late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you smile, though it fades quickly. “Love you too.”

You hang up, setting your phone down on the bedside table. You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face. You push yourself from the footboard and make your way to your bed. Crawling onto your stomach, you bury your face deep into your pillow and groan.

Taking risks, giving second chances, hoping for the best, fearing the worst...

You just wish you could shut it all off and just sleep.

—

3 MONTHS BEFORE CHRISTMAS, THE BREAKUP

You sat at the kitchen table, picking at your dinner halfheartedly. You glanced up at Vi, who sat across from you. Her plate of food hardly touched. She's avoiding your gaze. She's just right in front of you, and yet she feels as if she's millions of miles away.

“We need to talk about what's going on with us.”

Vi didn't even bother to look at you. She continues to push her food around her plate.

You slammed your hand down on the table, a loud clang breaking the quiet room. “Don't ignore me.”

That got her looking up to you. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“You know damn well what I want to talk about,” you snap, “this. this." you gesture between you and her.

Vi stands up suddenly, pushing her plate away from her. “I'm tired,” she mutters, avoiding your gaze. 

“Tired of what?” you stand up as well, eyes narrowing. “Tired of this, of us?”

Vi sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Can we not talk about this?’ she says. “I'm just... I'm not in the mood right now, okay?”

It has become a familiar habit. Every time you tried to address the issue, to have a serious conversation about the state of your relationship, Vi would shut down. She would do everything in her power to avoid facing the problem.

You throw your hands up, exasperated. “You've said that every time I try to talk, 'I'm not in the mood', 'Let's talk later', 'Can this wait?'” you mimic her voice. “If we're not gonna talk about this, then when?”

“I don't feel like talking right now!”

“That's the thing! there's never a time that you feel like talking. You always have an excuse, or you brush it off like it's nothing, like our relationship is nothing.”

“That's not true!” Vi snaps back, clenching her jaw. “I care about you and this relationship.”

“Then why do you keep shutting me out?” you interrupt. “You refuse to talk, you distance yourself from me, you dodge every attempt I make to connect. You're pushing me away every chance you get.”

“Jesus Christ, I'm not pushing you away,” Vi says. “I just need some space sometimes, I need to think.” Her tone softens, expression shifting from irritation to something closer to pleading. “Can you give me that at least? just some time to myself to process things.”

“Time to process things,” you repeat. “What things, Vi? see? this is what I'm talking about. You keep everything bottled up, and you never talk to me about it. I can't read your mind, and I can't fix what I don't know. I'm your girlfriend, and yet you treat me like some stranger.”

“What do you want me to say?!” Vi explodes, her voice echoing in the kitchen. “You want me to just pour out my heart and soul to you? spill all my problems and insecurities like some open book? is that what you want?!”

“Yes!” you snap, voice just as loud as hers. “I want you to talk to me! I want you to trust me enough to share what's going on in that head of yours! I can't keep going on like this, walking on eggshells, never knowing if I'm going to say or do something that's gonna piss you off.”

“Maybe I don't want to talk to you all the time,” Vi says. “Maybe I don't want to burden you with all my crap all the time. Maybe I just want some time to myself to deal with it on my own.”

“Of course you don't.” It’s sarcasm, pure and simple. “You're Vi, too tough for feelings and emotions. God forbid you show some weakness. You're so tough and strong and independent, you can handle everything on your own.” “This is why I don't talk to you,” Vi exclaims. “Because I know you'll turn it around on me, you'll make it out like I'm the one that needs fixing. You're so quick to assume the worst in me, to assume that I'm the problem. Have you ever considered that maybe—just maybe—you're the one who's being too clingy, too needy, too-”

“Too what?” you interrupt. “Say it, Vi. I'm too clingy? too needy? go on, get it out. You've wanted to say it for a while—so say it.”

“You're too much!” Vi blurts out. 

“Too much,” you repeat. “I'm too much.” It came out like a scoff. “I'm too much for trying to get you to open up? I'm too much for trying to save this damn relationship? I'm too much for wanting you to fucking talk to me?! I'm just trying to have a damn conversation, but apparently that's too much for you to handle.”

“Yeah, because everything you're saying is bullshit,” Vi retorts. “All you ever do is criticize me and bring up the same crap over and over again. You don't actually want to fix anything. You just want to complain about how I'm not living up to your perfect vision of a partner.”

“Oh my god,” you rub your temples. “My perfect vision of a partner? really? really? I'm not asking for the damn stars and moon. I'm asking for the bare minimum. I'm asking for basic communication. I'm asking for emotional connection. How's that a perfect vision'? How's that being too needy?”

“I wouldn't have to keep bringing up the same crap if you would just talk to me. I wouldn't have to repeat myself. We wouldn't be having this same damn fight again and again if you would just-” you stop yourself, taking a breath. “You know what? no. I'm done. I'm done with this. I'm done with trying to pull teeth, to drag anything meaningful out of you.”

You pace back and forth. “I've been trying to be a good girlfriend. I've given you space, I've been patient. I've listened, I've supported, and I've tried to give you what you needed. But it's never enough, is it? it's always about your space, your needs, your feelings. But what about mine? what about what I need? or does that not matter, because I'm just the clingy, needy girlfriend?”

“Well, screw that!” you continue. “Screw the fact that this whole thing has been tearing me apart from the inside out. Screw the fact that I'm miserable because I'm not even sure if you still love me. Screw the fact that I've been crying every damn night, wondering what I did to mess us up this badly.” You want to scream, to throw something, to run until your lungs burn. “Screw the fact that I can't even sleep at night because all I can think about is our fights. I can't even focus on work because all I can think about is what's going on between us.” 

You pause, choking on the lump in your throat. “But I guess you don't care about any of that, huh? because I'm just the needy one? I'm just the emotional one, the one who's too goddamn sensitive.” You press your palms against your eyes, fighting to keep the tears from falling. “I'm sick of this. I'm sick of feeling like I'm in this relationship all on my own. I'm sick of feeling like you'd be happier if I wasn't even here. I'm sick of feeling worthless.”

The tears start to fall. You wipe furiously at your face, but it was no use. They were quickly replaced with new ones. “I just want you to want me.” You choke back a sob. “I want you to want to share things with me. I want you to want to open up. I don't want to have to drag things out of you. I don't want to have to beg for your love and attention.”

“I'm so damn tired of feeling like I'm not good enough for you.” You wrap your arms around yourself, hugging yourself tight. “Or maybe…” you say, hiccupping in between sobs. “Maybe I'm just not good enough at all. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I'm the reason you can't open up, can't bear to let me get close, and maybe—maybe I'm the problem.”

“I just…” you begin, and your voice shakes so much, it's hard to get the words out. “I just want to be enough.”

“I want you to see me,” you continue, hugging yourself tight. Your nails are digging into the flesh of your arms. Anything to keep yourself from falling apart. “I just want you to see that I can be what you need, that I'm enough for you, but no matter what I do, it's not enough. I'm not enough for you. I'm… I will never be enough.” 

You drop your hands to your sides, clenching them into tight fists to stop yourself from reaching for her. You're trying so hard to hold yourself together, but it's not working. You're breaking, you're shattering, you're crying so hard you can barely speak.

“Maybe we shouldn't be together.”

Your stomach dropped to your feet. You don't think she'll go there, but here she is, talking about breaking up.

“What?” you force out, voice cracking. “Is that what you want?”

“I don't know,” she says, still not looking at you. “You need someone who can give you what you need, someone who's not so broken and messed up and damaged-” she clenched her jaw tightly, hating every word that left her mouth. “You'll find someone better. I know you will.”

Everything started to spin. You couldn't breathe. You feel like you were spiraling, grasping at straws, doing anything to reach her, to connect with her. This was happening, it was really happening—you were losing her. 

“You're serious,” you whisper. “You really want to break up.”

A part of you had been holding on to the hope that she'd change her mind, that she'd take back what she said. that this is some sort of prank and for her to burst out laughing and say 'gotcha!'.

but with each second of silence that passed, that hope was slowly dying.

You try to steady your voice to keep control. “If that's what you really want, then fine. Break up with me. Leave. Go be happy without me.”

“Okay.” And just like that, the fragile string that had been holding everything together snapped.

Vi walks to the door, her movements so slow. It's like she's in a trance, or maybe you are, because time seemed to slow down. This couldn't be happening. Please, tell me this is just a bad dream. But it isn't. It is real. It is happening.

You couldn't let her go like this. You couldn't let her walk out the door and out of your life without a fight. You had to stop her, you had to, you had to—

Your hand lasts out, grabbing her arm. “Please,” you beg. “Don't do this. We can talk, we can figure it out.”

Her hand paused, hovering over the door. She couldn't bring herself to turn around and face you.

“Don't... please,” you plead. “Don't just throw this away. We can work through this, we can fix it. We just need to talk.”

You're not above begging, not if it meant keeping her from walking out that door. You had pride once, but it has shattered into pieces. Now you are just a trembling, broken mess, desperate to keep her with you.

You desperately want her to turn around and look at you. To see that this wasn't what you wanted, that you didn't want things to end like this. “Violet, please,” you repeat. “I love you. I love you, please don't—please don't leave me.”

“There's nothing left to talk about,” she says. “There's nothing to fix. We're over. Done.”

All the hope, all the love, all the dreams you'd had together—it was all falling apart in front of you. Because Vi, the woman you were sworn to spend the rest of your life with, is walking out that damn door, leaving you alone in the silence of the apartment.

This can't be real. It has to be a nightmare. You will wake up, and she'll be there beside you, holding you like she always did.

You found yourself looking around, half expecting to see her sitting on the couch or coming out of the kitchen. But she's not there. She's not here.

Tears start to well up in your eyes. You stumble back until you hit a wall and slide down to the floor. Your hands came up to your face, trying to hold yourself together. You can't stop the tears or the sobs that wracked your body. You can't stop wishing she’s still here with you, in your arms, where she belonged.

You clutch at the thin fabric of your shirt. It hurts, everything hurts. Your head, your chest, your heart. You can't remember ever feeling like this. You can't remember ever feeling so alone and broken. You curl up on the floor, your whole body shaking, your tears leaving dark spots on the hardwood floor.

Every memory you had of you and Vi flashes through your mind. Your first date, your first kiss, your first time. All the happy memories, the laughter, the love.

But all of it was tainted now, stained by the knowledge that it is over.

You thought you knew pain before, but this... this is a new level of hell.

—

2 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

“You fucked up.”

“Thanks, Powder. Real insightful,” Vi mutters, rubbing her forehead. She's sitting in an armchair, surrounded by her family.

Claggor shifts in his seat, Mylo just rolls his eyes, and Silco and Vander exchange a glance.

“Hey, come on. Don't be so hard on Vi,” Claggor says, eyebrows furrowing.

Mylo snorts. “Yeah, she's already down after ending her four-year relationship. No need to pile on.”

Powder just shrugs. “I'm just saying what we're all thinking.”

Caggor sighs. “Let's just... drop the topic of the breakup, alright? it's in the past. There's nothing we can do about it now.”

Vander nods, a pensive look on his face. Mylo slouches back against the couch. “What's the point of us all sitting here bitching about it? it's not gonna change anything.”

Powder huffs. “I still think Vi should've handled it differently.”

“And I still think you should mind your own damn business,” Vi mutters, glaring at Powder.

Claggor glances at Silco and Vander, silently pleading with them to step in before it becomes an all-out argument. but neither of them say anything.

“What would you have done differently?” Powder snaps. 

Mylo leans forward in his seat. “This should be good.”

Claggor just rubs at his temples. This is going to turn into a shouting match.

Vander leans his elbows on his knees, sighing. “Alright, let's all just calm down-”

“We are calm,” both Vi and Powder say at the same time. They both glance at each other, and Vi frowns.

“Oh yeah, sure, real calm.” Vi scoffs.

Vander rubs his face. “Can we all just chill-”

“No!” Powder snaps. “I'm not gonna chill! Vi just-”

Mylo grins. “This is great. It's like a soap opera.”

Claggor pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you both stop arguing?”

Powder is glaring defiantly at Vi. “No, I'm not going to stop. You need to listen-”

“Oh, I need to listen? you're the one-”

Vander cuts them off. “Both of you, shut your damn mouths!”

The room falls silent. Everyone looks at Vander. Powder huffs, slouching back on the couch. Silco gives Vander a nod of appreciation.

Claggor looks relieved the arguing is over... for now, anyway. Mylo is visibly disappointed. “Man, I was just about to get the popcorn.”

Vander glances around the room, his gaze coming to rest on Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. “You three, get out.”

“Hey!” Powder protests.

Mylo grumbles, “Why do we-”

Vander raises a hand, cutting Mylo off. “No arguing. Get out. Now.”

Powder grumbles, shooting a glare in Vi's direction before storming out of the room. Claggor and Mylo follow, both of them looking slightly offended. The room falls silent once the door shuts behind Claggor.

Silco sits quietly, his hands folded in his lap. Vi looks at him for a moment before shifting her glare to the carpet.

Vander sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Christ,” he mutters. He looks tired, which is understandable. “Now, can we have an actual civil conversation this time?” No one says anything, so Vander takes that as a yes. He glances at Silco, a silent question in his eyes. Silco looks at Vi for a moment before turning to Vander and giving a slight nod. Vander sighs, sitting back in his armchair. “Alright, I'm just going to say it. Why didn't you tell us?”

Vi glances up, her eyes meeting Vander's. There's a pause before she speaks. “Because,” she starts. “I...I didn't want to deal with all this bullshit,” she gestures around the room. “I knew you'd all react this way, and…” she trails off, rubbing at her face.

Silco chuckles. “You thought you could just avoid dealing with it?”

Vander shoots him a glare.

Vi sighs, sinking into the armchair. “Look, I know I should have told you all sooner, alright? but I was-”

“Being a coward?”

She clenches her jaw, and she snaps, “I wasn't being a coward. I was just…”

“Stalling,” Silco adds, raising his eyebrows.

“Fine. I was stalling. Are you happy now? i didn't want to deal with the questions, or the pity, or the-”

“You didn't want to deal with the support?” Vander interrupts,

Vi looks at the carpet, her hands clenching into fists. “I don't need the support, okay? I'm doing fine on my own.”

Silco snorts. “Clearly you were really fine.”

Vander shakes his head. “Vi, we're a family. You should have come to us-”

Vi snaps, standing up. “And what could you have done, huh? would you have fixed my relationship? found me someone new?”

Vander opens his mouth to respond but closes it.

Vi throws her hands up. “Exactly. Nothing. I didn't tell you all because it'd be pointless. Because it's just a breakup. It's over. There's nothing you can do about it. It's in the past, so why does it-”

Vander cuts her off. “Why does it matter? is that what you were about to say?”

Vi's shoulders sag, and she nods.

Vander stands up as well and stares her down. “It matters because—because we care. Because you shut us out, because you made us think you were fine, when you were not.”

Vi scowls, her arms crossing over her chest. “Why does it matter? why do you all care so damn much?”

“Maybe because you've been moping around for a month,” Silco says. 

Vi looks around the room. “So, wait a minute, you knew?”

“'Course we knew. You think you're good at hiding things?” Silco raises an eyebrow. 

Vander sighs, ignoring Silco's comment. “We just don't want to push you.”

“Well, that explains it.” Vi glares at them both. "That explains why you invited her here."

Vander and Silco exchange a glance. “Vander and I... we both knew your little play,” Silco scoffs, lounging in his chair. 

Vi's eyes widen in disbelief. “What?”

“We just wanted to see how long you'd keep this up.”

Vi is stunned, her arms falling to her sides. “You all just... let me make a fool of myself?”

“You were doing that on your own,” Silco adds.

Vi sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I...it's for the sake of appearances, okay?” she scowls, hating that she has to even explain herself. “Because I didn't want all this bullshit over the holidays. It's Christmas. I didn't want to ruin Christmas for everyone.”

Silco stands up from his chair. “You were worried about us? you had to fake a relationship just to keep us happy?” he shakes his head. “What are we, children?”

Vi frowns. “That's not-”

Vander raises a hand, cutting her off. “No, Silco's right. You do treat us like children.”

Silco scoffs. “You always act like you're responsible for everyone, that you have to keep us all happy. When are you going to realize that we're adults? We can handle things ourselves. You don't have to fake a damn relationship just to make us happy.”

Vander sighs. “You think we can't handle knowing about your breakup? that we'll break if things aren't perfect?”

Silco walks around, sliding a hand through his hair. “You act like everything's your fault, like you're responsible for all of us. When are you going to stop acting like a damn martyr?”

Vi says nothing, just clenches her jaw.

“You do this all the time, hiding when you're not okay, pretending that you're fine. Do you even realize how much damage you're doing to yourself?”

Vander nods, stepping forward to look Vi in the eye. “You're driving yourself crazy. You need to learn to let us take care of you for once.” He gently squeezes her bicep. “You need to stop trying to protect everyone. Start worrying about yourself for once.”

“I just didn't want to burden anyone,” Vi whispers.

“Stop acting like you're a burden. You're not a burden, Vi. We care about you. We want to help you.” Silco lets out a huff, “We're family. You should be depending on us. You can lean on us occasionally without the world falling apart.”

Vander gently squeezes Vi's shoulder. “We'll do anything for you, darling, but you gotta let us help you sometimes.”

Vi closes her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She hates crying in front of them, hates letting them see her like this.

Silco sighs, leaning over to gently dab the tear away with his thumb. “Stop being so damn stubborn, girl. You don't have to handle things on your own.”

Vander gently kisses the top of her head. “You're not alone, Vi. We're here for you. Always.”

Vi sniffs, blinking to stop the tears from continuing.

Vander pulls her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her. “You're not making us miserable, okay? you don't gotta be perfect. Just be you. You're enough for us, kid.”

Vi nods, burying her face in Vander's chest. Silco rubs her back. Vander pulls back from the hug, holding Vi by the shoulders. “Now, we've talked about you,” he says. “What's going on between you and your girl?”

“We talked,” she mumbles. “I asked her to...give me another chance. To fix things…”

Vander and Silco share a look, a smirk on Silco's face. Vander clears his throat. “And what did she say?”

“She said...she'll think about it.”

Vander nods, while Silco's smirk widens. “Is that so?” he hums. “You finally grew some balls and asked her.”

Vi shoots Silco a glare. “You don't know a damn thing,” she grumbles, her cheeks burning.

“It's a step in the right direction, regardless.” Vander pats Vi on the back. “If she says she'll think about it, then she's considering it.”

“And if they say yes…” Silco says, then he glances at Vander, the two sharing a chuckle.

Vander pats Vi on the back again. “Then you'll get your girl back.” He pokes her cheek. “So, don't give up. Don't lose hope.”

Silco grins, “We just have to wait.”

“Waiting.”

“Which you're not so great with,” Silco snorts. “Anyway, if she says yes, remember to thank us.”

“You guys didn't do anything.” 

Vander and Silco share a smirk, the same thought clearly going through their minds.

Vander grins. “We didn't do anything at all.”

Silco nods. “Absolutely nothing.”

—

1 MONTH BEFORE THE BREAK UP, MARRIAGE

You're lying your head on Vi's lap, enjoying the feeling of her fingers running through your hair. You look up at her, watching her face as you speak, “Hey Vi?”

She pauses, her fingers falling still for a moment. She looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. “What's up?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” she says, her hands resuming at running through your hair.

“Have you ever thought about marriage?”

Her fingers stills, just a tiny flinch that she quickly tried to hide. But you noticed.  “Not much.” Vi shrugs. “What about you?”

You can hear the way her heart is thudding, how her words sound so strained. You reach up and take one of her hands, gently running your fingers across the back of it. You see her reaction. The way her eyes widen and her jaw is tense. It's not hard not to notice—you're literally lying on her lap, looking up at her. The topic of marriage suddenly came up out of nowhere.

“I've been thinking about it a lot, actually... marriage, I mean.”

“Marriage, huh?”

“Yeah..”

You're mentally freaking out. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can feel how your stomach is doing backflips. You want to desperately know what she's thinking. Are you freaking her out? what is going on in her head? is she disgusted at the thought of marrying you?

“Is that so?”

She is trying so damn hard to sound unphased, but you know her too well. You know her body language, the way her ears go slightly red when she is flustered, how tense her muscles become when she is nervous. 

“Just wondering what it'd be like, I guess,” you continue. You shift on your spot. The feeling of her fingers running through your hair is pleasant, but it is so hard to focus on that feeling when your stomach is flipping over itself every few seconds. “I'm just curious,” you add. “I can't help picturing it and wondering what it'd be like to marry you someday.”

Vi is silent for a moment, her fingers stopping in your hair. She licks her lips, trying to come up with a response. “Marriage,” she says again. “That's uhh…” she swallows, trying to compose herself. She starts playing with your hair again, trying to give her hands something to do to hide the way they are shaking. “It's a big deal.” She pauses. “Why—why are you even thinking about that stuff? we're too young.”

The only sound you can hear is the thump of your heart in your ears. You can feel yourself start to feel nauseous. This is the conversation you wanted to have, but now that it is actually happening, you wish you could take it all back.

“I mean.. I'm not saying I actually wanna get married right now.” This is not going well. It is not going well at all. But you continue, trying to make yourself seem uninterested. “It's just a thought... just a daydream, really. We're way too young for that kinda stuff.”

You're hoping that by downplaying it, calling it some silly fantasy, you would ease the tension in Vi's body. That maybe she will just laugh it off, make a joke about how you are an idiot. “Yeah, right, getting married to me?” she'll say, her cocky smirk on her lips, her shoulders slumping with relief.

But she didn't. She didn't brush it off. She didn't make a joke. Instead, the room is so silent.

Vi's fingers continue to run through your hair, but they are trembling, their pace a little slower than before. She's not saying anything, and that is making you even more nervous.

You don't know what to do, so you try to make another joke. “Can you imagine it?” you force out a laugh. “You and me getting married. Ridiculous, right?”

Then again, she didn't laugh. The corner of her lip curls up into a sort of half-smirk, but it looks like it's forced. Her eyes dart to the side, a clear sign she is distracted by her thoughts. She swallows, her hands still nervously fidgeting with your hair. What is going on in her mind? why is she so quiet? The longer the silence drags on, the more anxious you become. You want to reach up and shake her to snap her out of it. 

But you didn't, of course. “It will be a disaster.” You force out another laugh, hoping that she will finally talk. “Can you imagine going down the aisle in a wedding dress?” you continue. “Me, dragging you up to the altar so we can say our vows and exchange rings.”

The smile on your face is strained. Please say something, Vi.

“You will probably wear some suit that doesn't even fit you right,” you continue, the words pouring out of your mouth faster now that the panic is setting in. “You'll trip as you walk down the aisle and then fall on your ass during the first dance.” You want her to smile, to laugh, something. Anything that will give you an indication that your marriage joke hasn't gone completely wrong. But Vi is still so damn quiet.

“Then, when we finally get home for our ‘wedding night,’ you'll just…” You cut yourself off, realizing that you are about to make a dirty joke. Not the time. “Just—you will probably fall asleep immediately, right?” You sound like an idiot right now. “Then what will we do? It'll be like, our honeymoon or something, and you'll be snoring and-”

Shut up, your mind hiss. It's like you can't stop yourself from rambling like an idiot. You are starting to sweat.

“Stop talking.”

The tone of her voice made your heart skip a beat. She sounds anxious... or scared... what is going on in her head right now? is the conversation making her as nervous as it is to you?

Vi suddenly pulls her hand away from your hair, sitting up. You sit up as well to look at her. 

“I'm getting hungry.”

It's clear that she doesn't want to talk about marriage, at least for now. The conversation made her feel uncomfortable... but you don't know why. Is she really that opposed to the idea of marrying you? or is she just flustered by the thought of a future with you?

You try to push those thoughts away, try to dismiss them, and act like the whole conversation didn't just happen. Vi is already changing the subject, so you went along with it, putting your usual 'casual' tone back on.

“You're always hungry,” you tease, forcing a smile to spread on your lips. “I swear, you eat more than a goddamn goliath.”

“I don't eat more than a goliath,” Vi protests. “I just have a big appetite.” Her eyes still weren't quite meeting yours. Why wouldn't she look at you?

“And besides,” she adds. “It's not my fault I need a lot of energy to kick so much ass on a daily basis,” she flexed her arms. “Got to keep these biceps strong somehow, right princess?”

“Your biceps aren't that impressive.”

Blatant lie, you both knew it. Vi's stupid strong, not to mention she's absolutely ripped. She can probably bench press a goddamn elephant. She doesn't even have to respond. Her smirk tells you that she knows damn well she can destroy you in a wrestling match.

“Oh yeah? don't think my biceps are that impressive, huh?” she teases, flexing again. “How about I throw you over my shoulder right now, then? carry you around like a goddamn princess. Then you'll see just how impressive they are.”

“Oh, you wo-,” you begin, but before you can finish your sentence, Vi suddenly lurches forward. She scoops you up, hoisting you effortlessly onto her shoulder. You let out a strangled gasp, your hands immediately grabbing onto the back of her tank top. “This isn't fair!” Your voice comes out as more of a squeak. How does she make it look so easy to carry your heavy ass around like a sack of potatoes?

“What was that about my biceps not being impressive, princess?” she taunts. She carries you around. You're like a goddamn ragdoll in her grip, not that you're complaining...

“I have to admit,” you grumble. “I kind of like this view.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. Shit. 

Vi's smirk widens. “Oh really?” she drawls. “You like the view? then I'll be sure to give you a better one.” With that, she kicks open the bedroom door and carries you inside.

—

2 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

Vi fidgets nervously outside Powder's room. She takes a deep breath and finally knocks. “Powder?” she calls out.

What if Powder doesn't want to even talk to her? She screwed up. Who's to say Powder won't be pissed at her?! Just as Vi's starting to think about backing out, the door creaks open. There, powder stands before her.

“Can I come in?”

Powder hesitates, studying her sister for a moment. Finally, she steps aside and opens the door wider. “Come on in.”

Vi sighs in relief, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. Powder sits down on her bed, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She doesn't make eye contact. Vi shifts on her feet, standing in the middle of the room. She clears her throat. “So... can we talk?”

Powder hums in response. She slowly moves to sit down beside Powder. She's close, but not too close. “Thought you and…” she mumbles, “are still together.”

Vi shrugs. “The thing we did on Christmas was just for appearance. Dumb decision, really.”

Powder keeps her gaze on her lap, picking at a loose string on her sleeve. “Breakup must've been hard, huh?”

“That's one way to put it.”

“It was your decision, wasn't it?”

“Yeah... I was the one who broke things off.”

Powder nods, still picking absently at the string. Vi fidgets with a strand of her hair as she tries to think of what to say. But Powder beats her to the punch. “Can I ask... why?”

Vi sucks in a sharp breath. She's not sure how to answer that… how can she explain how stupid and scared she felt? how she pushes you away as a result? She wants to just give some bullshit answer, but there's something in the set of Powder's jaw that stops her. Powder deserves some form of honesty.

“It's complicated…”

Powder looks up at her. “Complicated, how?” she asks. “Did she hurt you...?”

“No, no. She'll never hurt me. Nothing like that.”

Powder nods.

“It's just... she's good. She's too good for me, Powder. She's always been too good for me.”

“You sound like an idiot.”

Vi huffs. “Hey-”

“You are an idiot if you really think she's 'too good for you.'”

Vi sighs, slouching forward.

Powder continues. “She stayed by your side for four years. She put up with so much of your bullshit, and she still loved you throughout it all. What the hell makes you think you're not good enough for them? seriously, why do you always do that? why do you always have this dumb idea that you're not worth it?”

Vi looks down at her lap. “She's kind, and smart, and beautiful, and strong...and you've seen her. She's gorgeous, Powder... and then there's me.”

“Don't give me that crap, sis. You're just as strong, if not stronger, and you're definitely not bad to look at. So that's not the real reason, is it?”

Vi bites her lip. Okay, powder definitely has a point. But she can't exactly tell Powder the full truth. But there's no way Powder will believe any more of her bullshit excuses.

Powder looks at her. “Stop trying to lie and bullshit. The truth. Why did you push her away? just tell me the truth.”

“I was scared, okay? I was scared that maybe I wasn't good enough for her, or that maybe she'll wake up one day and realize she can be with someone much better than me, or that she'll get sick of my bullshit-” She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I'm just so scared, Powder. I'm scared of being a burden, of not being able to keep her happy, of not being good enough, and it just keeps getting worse, and I feel all this pressure building up, and I panicked. So I did what I usually do, and I ran. I pushed them away, just like I always do.”

“You're a coward, Vi,” Powders says again. “A complete coward. You're so afraid of screwing things up that you end up screwing things up anyway!”

Vi winces at that.

“I watched the two of you for four years. I saw how you two were together. What you had was real, and you threw it away because you couldn't get it through your thick skull that she really does want you?”

Vi feels her stomach twist. “It's... it's not that I don't believe she wants me. I know she does, but I just... I-”

“No 'but' here, Vi! Seriously, you're so damn frustrating.”

“It's hard!” Vi says, frustrated. “I feel like I can't be what they need. I'm a mess. I'm always so angry and on edge, and I get into fights, and I've got so much damn baggage. Why would they want to deal with that when they can be with someone stable and normal?”

“Holy shit, you're such a dumbass. Do you think that she is some perfect person? She has her own issues, her own problems. Nobody is perfect, and she knew that. She knew your flaws, she knew what your life was like, she knew everything, and yet she still chose to be with you for four years. Doesn't that tell you anything?!”

Vi swallows. When Powder puts it like that, it does make her feel stupid. She swallows again, looking up at her sister. “I know it probably doesn't mean much now, but... I really do love her. She's all I've thought about...I miss her so much…”

“'Course you do. Because you just did the dumbest thing you could have done. You let the love of your life slip through your fingers because you were just too damn stupid to see what you had right in front of you.”

“I know, I.. I don't know what possessed me to think she'd be better off without me.”

Powder raises an eyebrow. “Your own insecurities? your lack of self-worth? just a guess.”

“Shut it, powder,” Vi grumbles.

“Hey, don't get pissy with me. You're the one who messed up, not me,” Powder quips. “But anyway, I've heard enough of your stupid whining,” she huffs. “I'm not going to just sit here and let you drown in your self-pity. What the hell am I being the mature one in this situation for?”

“I hate it when you're right.” 

Powder snorts and grins. “Then you must hate being around me all the time, since I'm always right.”

Vi rolls her eyes and shoves her. “'kay smartass.”

“I just want you to be happy, sis.”

“I am happy,” Vi mutters.

“You're only saying that to shut me up.” Vi tries to protest, but Powder holds up one finger, cutting her off. “I know you. I know when you're bullshitting.”

“What are you, a mind reader now?”

“Pretty much,” Powder replies.

Vi rolls her eyes, shoving powder again. “Oh, shut up,” she pauses, then looks at her sister warmly. “I love you, Pow… and thank you. You don't sugarcoat, do you?”

Powder smiles, bumping her shoulder against Vi's. “I love you too. You're a pain in my ass, but I love you. Just...promise me something.”

“What?” she asks.

“Promise me you'll be more honest about your feelings. And I don't just mean with me, I mean in general. Stop keeping it all bunched up in here.” Powder taps Vi's chest with one finger. “Don't just throw something good away because you're scared it'll end eventually anyway. If you love her as much as you say you do, then you have to make up for what a dumbass you were and... at least try to make it work. Because she's... she's special, Vi.”

Vi hesitates but finally sighs, closing her eyes. “Fine, I promise.”

Powder hums. “Pinky promise?”

Vi raises one eyebrow. “Really? Are we ten right now?”

Powder grins, holding out a pinky finger in front of Vi's face. “Come on. Do it, loser.”

“You're ridiculous,” Vi tries to bite back a laugh. “Fine.” She links her pinky with powder's. “Pinky promise.”

“Perfect. Remember, you're not allowed to go back on it now. I'll strangle you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, boss.”

“Oh wait-” Powder's eyes light up, then a grin splits her face. “You remember how we'd always have pillow fights when we were younger?”

Vi groans, already knowing where this is going. “Please, no.”

But it's too late. Powder is already grabbing a pillow off the couch and whacking Vi in the back of the head. “C'mon, it'll be fun,” she grins.

Vi rubs the spot on her head that powder just hit. “Oh god,” she groans again.

Powder chuckles, tossing her another pillow. “No getting out of it,” she teases.

She catches the pillow. “Fine,” she says. “But I'm kicking your ass.”

Powder laughs, already readying her own pillow. “As if. I'm more agile than you are.”

Vi scoffs. “You wish,” and thus, the pillow fight begins.

—

2 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP, FIRST SNOW

You're sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels on the TV, trying to find something to watch on another boring Friday day. Suddenly, you hear Vi calling out your name, and you look over to see her leaning against the window.

“It's snowing,” she shouts eagerly. “Babe look!”

You chuckle. You get up from the couch, walking over to the window to stand beside her. You can see the snow falling slowly outside.

Vi glances over at you. “It's snowing,” she repeats. She's practically pressed up against the window, her nose almost touching the glass as she watches the snow fall. She's grinning when she looks at you and exclaims, “It's our first snow of the year!”

She suddenly grabs your arms and pulls you closer, forcing you up against the window too. She presses a quick kiss to your cheek before she puts her hands on the window sill and leans out. Snowflakes are falling around her, and she tips her head back, catching them on her tongue.

“Come on,” she urges. “Taste the snow.” Without waiting for an answer, she grabs your shoulder and pulls you towards her, planting a cold, wet kiss on your lips. The snow that was in her mouth is now in yours. “See?” she laughs, pulling away.

Still holding on to your arm, she prevents you from moving away from the window. Instead, she guides your hand up to the glass. “Make a wish on the first snowflake,” she instructs.

“You really want me to make a stupid wish on the stupid snowflake?” you tease.

“Yes,” Vi responds bluntly. She squeezes your hand, her grip tightening around your fingers. “Now come on, make a wish.”

“Alright,” you relent, shaking your head in mock defeat. You tap your finger against the glass, watching as a single snowflake drifts down. You let out a breath and close your eyes, making your wish.

A yacht and a mansion would be nice, and while we were at it, I should wish for no taxes and free college. Maybe I'll even win the lottery. Win a million dollars. No, fifty million. I'm feeling lucky. I'll buy us a house with fifteen rooms. Ten christmas trees, one for every room. We'll even have a room for our christmas trees. I want to find a cure for cancer. Discover a never-before-seen species of shark, maybe a mermaid.

But most of it all, I want to spend another Christmas with her.

“There,” you say, looking back at her. “I made a stupid wish.”

“Good,” she says, grinning. She's satisfied with your compliance, then she releases her grip on your hand. She slides her arms around your waist, pulling you closer, resting her chin on your shoulder. “I hope your stupid wish comes true.”

She stays like that for a moment, her body pressed up against yours as you both watch the snow continue to fall outside. After a few silent minutes, she moves her head slightly and rests her forehead on your shoulder instead of her chin. Her voice is quiet, muffled a little against your shirt. “Promise me something.”

You glance down at her. “What is it?” you murmur, bringing your hand up to brush your fingers through her hair.

She lifts her head up so that her cheek now rests on your shoulder. Her fingers twist into the material of your shirt, clinging on tightly. “Promise me we'll spend every day through winter together, even the cold nights. Promise me you'll keep the fireplace going.”

Your hand gently massaging the back of her neck, your fingers playing with the soft hairs there. “I promise,” you whisper into her hair. “Every day. All winter. Even the cold nights. I promise.”

She hums in response, satisfied, and nuzzles closer to you. She pulls you closer, and you can feel her heartbeat—the steady thump thump thump against your chest. She mumbles something against your shirt, the words unintelligible. When you look down, you can see her cheeks are red.

“Whatcha saying?” You tug at a strand of her pink hair before you reach up and trace the edge of her ear with your fingertips.

She shivers when you touch her ear, and a grin spreads across your face. She buries her head further in your shirt, still mumbling something against the material. It's muffled, but you can still hear the last part of what she's saying.

“Love you.”

You can't stop yourself from smiling. You pull her head back so that she's looking up at you now. You want to see her face when you respond. You brush her cheek with your thumb before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her mouth.

“I love you too.”

—

5 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

Vi paces back and forth in her room, checking her phone every couple of seconds. It's been five days. Five days, and still nothing. She can wait. Yes, she can wait.

You've kept Vi on the edge of her seat for days. Which is why Vi's heart was practically beating out of her chest as her phone dinged. She practically pounces on it, grabbing it off the bedside table as she checks the notification.

Please say yes. Please say yes.

She taps the screen, opening the notification.

...it's a meme from Powder, another stupid cat video.

She texts back, “Powder. One of these days I'm going to turn off your damn notifications. Stop sending me stupid cat videos.”

Powder immediately replies, a picture of her flipping off the camera. Below it, she's added the text “love you too.”

Vi rolls her eyes, tossing her phone onto the bedside table. She flops onto her bed, sprawling out and glaring at her ceiling.

She sighs. How is it that she's been reduced to checking her phone every thirty seconds, jumping every time a notification goes off?

Pathetic.

Vi looks down at herself, looking at the sweater that she's wearing. It's an ugly-christmas-themed one that you gave her. The colors clash, there's patterns thrown in everywhere, and the whole thing is absolutely atrocious.

and it's her favorite thing in the world.

She wraps her arms around herself, snuggling up on the bed and burying her face into the fabric.

The stupid sweater smells like you. 

She has become a mess these last five days. Not knowing if you will take her back has been slowly driving her mad. She can't even take her mind off you, especially since she's wearing this stupid sweater. It's stupid. This is just a sweater. An ugly sweater made of scratchy fabric. But she can't help clinging to it, desperate to remember what you felt like.

She wants you.

She wants you here, snuggled up with her on the bed. She wants you to wrap your arms around her, pull her close, bury your face in her hair, and sigh into her ear. She wants you to whisper to her, tell her that you miss her too.

Vi wants you back.

She knows she was the one who left you, so why the hell is she the one losing her mind? She's the one who ended things. She's the one who left you. So why can't she stop thinking about how good it would be to feel your lips on hers? She can picture it so clearly. The feeling of your mouth against hers. The taste of your lips

She has become a pathetic pining mess and she hates it.

Vi grabs her phone again, unlocking it and scrolling to her gallery. Swiping through the many photos she has saved of you and her. Pictures of you in her hoodie, pictures of you cooking her breakfast, pictures of you two with your foreheads pressed together.

Her thumb hovers over her favorite picture. It's a candid shot of you wearing one of her shirts and her favorite leather jacket as your hair is ruffled with her fingers.

Vi sighs, heart clenching when she looks at the picture.

If she can go back in time and punch herself in the head, she would. She'll grab past 3 months Vi by the collar and shake her, telling her not to be such an idiot. “You're gonna regret this, dumbass,” she'll say. And god, she does regret it.

She doesn't even have a good reason why she left in the first place. She's just scared and confused. Now look where that ended her. Alone on her bed, wearing an ugly ass sweater, pining over you like some pathetic idiot.

Vi locks her phone and tosses it aside with a groan. She grabs a pillow, burying her face in it and letting out a muffled scream. “This is ridiculous.”

She's a mess. She's angry, she's frustrated, she's hurt, and it's all her own damn fault. She's the one who pushed you away. She's the one who ended everything. She's the one who walked out of the door and slammed it shut. Then five days ago, she had the nerve to ask you if you could give her another chance.

Like that will make everything all better. Like you'll instantly take her back after she treats you like crap.

That's not how life works, idiot.

She wants you to come rushing through the door, push her down on the bed, and pin her against the pillows. She wants you to kiss her until she can't breathe. She wants to feel your touch, kiss, and nibble every part of her body.

And at the same time, she wants to be left alone, to wallow in her own misery. She wants you to stay the hell away from her. 

She hates feeling like this. She hates how her heart beats harder every time her phone buzzes and then immediately sinks when it's not a text message from you.

She hates her dreams—no night goes by that she doesn't dream about you—about your face, your body, your mouth on hers. She wants to feel your skin against hers, hear your voice in her ear, taste you on her tongue.

She's a pathetic, desperate, needy, pining mess.

Vi doesn't even realize she's doing it. Her fingers tangle in her hair, absently toying with the pink strands. Her hand drifts down to fiddle with her ear, tracing the edge of her piercing just like you used to do.

She almost closes her eyes but stops herself.

She misses you. She misses the little things about you.

The way you scrunch your nose when you're confused, the way you bite your lip when you focus, the way you hum songs under your breath when you're alone, the way you get this adorable smile on your face whenever you catch her looking at you.

She misses everything about you.

—

4 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP, FIRST CHRISTMAS

“I should tell Vander to decorate the house like that,” Vi says, her eyes reflecting the Christmas lights as she looks around the neighborhood that looks like it was covered in enough lights to power a small city.

“It would cost a fortune,” you point out. “The electricity bill would be skyrocketing, not to mention the cost of all those lights.”

“Come on,” Vi protests, wheedling. “It wouldn't be that expensive, and just imagine the look on ol' Vander's face when he sees his bill next month.”

“Don't you want to give him and the other old farts in this neighborhood an aneurysm?”

“That would be great, and oh—we could also get lights in the shape of a huge middle finger,” she suggests. “And maybe a giant santa statue right in the front lawn, with a sack big enough to carry a goddamn mountain.”

“Imagine the looks on everyone's faces when they drive by,” Vi continues. “They'll think they're hallucinating, seeing Vander's house covered in every color of light imaginable, with that huge ass santa statue waving a middle finger like a damn flag.”

The snow crunches under your boots as you and Vi walk through the neighborhood.

She doesn't shut up about how much she loves this time of year, from the chilly nights to the smell of pine trees to the Christmas movies and music that seems to be playing everywhere. 

“Seriously,” she sighs, her breath fogging up in the cold air. “This is my favorite time of year. Everything is so cozy and pretty and festive.” She reaches down and takes your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours. “Plus, I get to see all the cute couples out and about, all cozied up in their winter clothes, kissing under the mistletoe…” She smirks, nudging you with her shoulder. “Makes me want to do cheesy cute things with you,” she starts whistling a tune, swinging your hands.

“We could go caroling around the neighborhood, or maybe build a snowman out in the yard, or-” Vi suddenly stops in her tracks.

Before you can ask what's inside her mind, she grabs your hand and starts pulling you along.

“Come on, I have something to show you!”

You stumble after her, trying to keep up with her as she practically drags you through the snow-covered streets.

Finally, she stops running and looks over at you. “Ta-dah!”

You look at the spot she's brought you to. It's a small park, and in the middle of it stands a tree. Not too small, but not too big.

“Look,” she states, looking over at the tree. “Now, stay right here,” she instructs, pushing you to stand under the tree. “And don't leave. I'll be right back, okay?” She winks at you before darting off, leaving you standing alone under the tree.

What is she up to?

You glance around, trying to figure out what Vi has in mind. It's getting cold, and the snow is starting to seep through your shoes. A few minutes pass, and still no sign of Vi anywhere. Just when you're starting to get impatient, you hear a voice behind you.

“Close your eyes.”

You turn around to see Vi standing there, a smirk on her face. 

“Please, close your eyes, and no peeking.”

Reluctantly, you close your eyes.

“Keep them shut,” she warns. “Don't even think about peeking.”

You hear rustling and shifting, and then some sort of...clink? what on earth is she doing?

“No cheating, okay?”

Minutes and minutes and minutes pass by, it feels like you wait for an hour. All is quiet. There's only the sound of the wind and the crunch of snow. Then, you suddenly feel her hands settling on your shoulders, positioning you exactly how she wants you.

“Don't open your eyes yet,” she whispers in your ear.

Her hands slide down from your shoulders, trailing down your arms and then coming to rest on your waist.

“Okay,” she murmurs, adjusting your position. “You can open your eyes now.”

You blink a few times, adjusting from the darkness of having them closed, and then you look up. Vi has strung a bunch of Christmas lights up in the tree. It's almost like a scene from a cheesy Christmas movie. It's so sappy, but it's perfect.

“What do you think?” she asks. “Pretty damn great, huh?” she grins, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder. She pulls you closer to her, your back pressing against her chest. She smells like a christmas treat. Just like the cookies you love to eat.

“I figured all the best cheesy Christmas movie stuff needs a perfect, romantic setting,” she says, her fingers absently tracing patterns on your stomach. “And what's more romantic than standing under the tree, with the Christmas lights all around us and the snow falling down?” Vi squeezes you tighter, nuzzling into your neck and pressing a light kiss just below your ear.

“And of course,” she mumbles. “We can't have a cheesy Christmas movie moment without some cheesy Christmas music to go along with it.” Vi steps away, going over and plugging in a set of battery-powered speakers. They immediately start playing a Christmas melody.

You watch as she skips back over to you, her hands immediately settling back on your waist. “Now, let's get in position. I want this to be suuuper cheesy.” She waggles her eyebrows and grins again, moving so she's standing in front of you. “Okay, put your hands on my shoulders, and then move a little closer.”

You follow her instructions, placing your hands on her shoulders and stepping forward, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Perfect. That's perfect.” Her hands come to rest on your hips. “Now, we just gotta get one last thing…” Her hands move from your hips, sliding slowly up your sides and over your arms. She grabs your wrists and lifts them up, putting your arms around her neck so your hands are clasped behind her head. “And now,” she murmurs, pulling you even closer. Her eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “The mistletoe.”

You look up, and sure enough, there it is. A little sprig of mistletoe is hanging from a branch just above your heads.

“Seems like we have the perfect moment to finish off the Christmas movie cliché.”Her other hand is still on your hip, and she's pulling you so close now that you can practically taste her breath as she whispers, “You know what that means, right...?��

Even though you know exactly what she's talking about, you raise an eyebrow and give her a coy smile. “Oh, I don't know... refresh my memory?”

“Yes ma'am.” She then pulls you tight and leans forward, her lips pressing against yours in a soft, slow kiss. It's not at all like her usual passionate, fiery kisses. It's gentler, softer, sweeter. She nips at your bottom lip, her teeth pulling gently before her tongue soothes the redness. She tilts your head back, claiming your mouth in a much deeper kiss.

She pushes you up against the tree, pinning you there and claiming more and more of your mouth. You tighten your arms around her neck, pulling her even closer.

After a few more moments, the two of you finally pull away.

Vi rests her forehead against yours, both of you suddenly breathless from the kiss. Neither of you say a word. The only sound is your ragged breathing and the christmas music from the speaker.

“Well,” Vi murmurs, breaking the silence. She lets out a sigh and then chuckles, pulling back so she can look at your face. “That was pretty damn cheesy.”

“Like you weren't loving every second of it.”

“I would never deny that.” Her hands still on your waist, stroking your stomach. “I'd kiss you under the damn mistletoe all day, every day, if I could.”

“You're such a sap.” You move one hand up to her hair, tangling your fingers in it and toying with one of her pink bangs. “Corny, cheesy sap with a thing for Christmas movie romance.”

She laughs, tilting her head back to give you more access to her hair. “I just want to keep doing this,” Vi murmurs. “I want to keep spending Christmas with you, over and over and over,” she continues. “Every. Single. One. Even when we're old geezers with walkers and false teeth and liver spots, spending Christmas together underneath a tree.”

She pulls you as close, resting her cheek against your shoulder. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, mumbling the words against your skin. “I want to watch you open your Christmas presents. Even when we're both pushing seventy, then I want to watch you open mine,” she sighs. “I want us to argue over holiday decorations because you insist that the garland is crooked, and I don't care if it is.”

She tilts her head to look at you once more. Then she moves to place a kiss on the corner of your lips, then the tip of your nose. “I want to fight with you on the Christmas tree lot over whether we're going to buy a real tree or a plastic tree, but end up getting both just because you refuse to back down.”

She lifts one hand to cup your chin, tilting it up towards her, then moves to press kisses to each of your eyelids. “I want to wake up at three in the morning and sit on the end of our bed in our pajamas, our hair a mess and bags under our eyes, and listen to our kids in their rooms upstairs. Hear them whisper and snicker about the big fat man that's climbing down the chimney…”

She pauses, moving to press a kiss to the space between your eyebrows, to the tip of your nose again. “I want us to make Christmas traditions, even if they're dumb traditions. I want us to bake Christmas cookies and put ornaments on the tree together… even if you complain the whole time and say I'm doing it wrong.”

Then she moves her lips to your cheeks, a kiss to one side, then the other. “I want to go to the grocery store on Christmas eve, because you forgot to buy that one random ingredient that you forgot to put on the list and you refuse to cook without it,” she murmurs, her lips moving to your jaw. 

“And then, I want to watch you fall asleep on the couch in the middle of your favorite Christmas movie, even though you've seen it a hundred times.”

She presses a kiss to your chin, then another to the underside of your jaw. “I want to come home from work late on Christmas eve because I forgot to get a present, and I just know you're gonna say, 'I told you so', but you'll still give me a kiss and tell me to sit my ass down and not worry about any damn gift.”

She smirks against your skin, as she moves back to one of your eyes, placing a kiss to the outer corner. “I just want to spend every Christmas with you. From this one to the next, all the way through when we're old and gray. We can even spend Christmas in our damn graves.”

She pulls her hand away and lets her fingers slide down and find yours, intertwining them together, bringing your hand up to her mouth. She brings the back of your hand to her lips, placing a kiss against your skin. Her thumb gently brushes over your knuckles. Her fingers are calloused and rough, but her touch is soft and delicate, careful not to squeeze too hard.

Her eyes then close, placing your hand on her cheek, leaning into your touch. “Only you,” she murmurs. She turns her head to press a kiss to your palm. “Always you.”

—

6 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

You're once again standing in front of Vander's house.

It's been a whirlwind of a year—first the breakup, then the Christmas, and now the New Year's eve. You don't know how to feel. Excited? nervous? worried? you're not quite sure which one. Hell, chances are you're probably feeling all three.

Powder has been nagging you about coming for a couple of days, and your parents wouldn't mind anyway. They're spending the night by themselves in a hotel somewhere, doing the tango or some other bs. So, here you are.

You have a feeling that the family already knows about the breakup. Vi had told you she'd tell them after Christmas, and it's after Christmas. You just hope that it won't be too awkward.

You're here for two reasons.

The first is to celebrate new years with the family, and the second is to talk to Vi.

You need an answer. You need to know why she left. Why she really left.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, then head up to the front door. You knock once, then twice, hoping to god that you won't have to wait long. Footsteps approach from the other side, and you can hear the faint sound of voices coming from the other side of the door. There's laughing, talking, and the shuffling of feet, then the sound of the door opening.

You've barely even processed the fact that the door is open when you're suddenly engulfed in a hug. A pair of arms wraps around you. A familiar scent of cherry blossom invades your senses, and you feel yourself stiffening instinctively.

The woman releases her grip on you, pulling away to look at you with a wide grin. “You made it!” 

“'Course I did,” you reply, a smile on your lips. “You were spam bombing me on every social media you could find. Kinda hard to say no to that.”

“Knew it!” she chirps, then grabs your arm and tugs you inside, shutting the door behind you as she leads you into the house. Following Powder further into the house, the sound of Mylo's voice coming from the living room as he sings loudly and very, very out of tune.

Powder stops at the entrance to the living room and glances over at him. She pauses, her fingers still clamped tightly around your wrist. She glances back at you. “I mean, you're still my friend,” she murmurs. “After you and…” she clears her throat. “After everything.” She doesn't finish her sentence, just looks back at Mylo. He's still singing, clearly oblivious to your presence. His voice breaks on a particular note, the sound of his voice scraping against your ears. Powder shakes her head. “He's awful,” she mutters. “Always has been.”

“I'm almost surprised none of you have tried to stuff a sock in his mouth yet.”

Powder snorts. “Believe me, I tried when I was younger, but Vander said violence is never the answer.” 

“That sounds like Vander.” You can almost picture Vander swatting Powder's hands away and saying some sort of fatherly bullshit about not doing something like that. 

“Yeah,” she grins, mocking her father's demeanor. “'Violence isn't the answer, honey. You and your siblings need to find other ways to figure out your differences. Blah blah blah.' Something like that.” Powder lets go of your wrist, letting her hands fall to her hips. “Anyway,” she says, “there's food in the kitchen. We already ate dinner, but there's snacks if you want any.” She pauses, her eyes drifting to the living room. “Vi's in the living room, so uh…” she stops, her eyes shifting back to you. “You know, just so you know. Get prepared for that or something. I'm gonna go.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, I think I might walk around first.”

She smiles again and gives you one last pat on the shoulder before she steps past you and slips into the living room.

You take a second, letting your eyes drift over the decorations. Familiar faces are in family pictures on the wall. There's a few colorful Christmas lights still hung up on the walls.

Upon a second glance around the room, you spot Sevika in the corner, casually puffing on a cigarette. You can't help but wonder how she always manages to get away with that. There's definitely a no-smoking rule in the house, especially during events like this. Apparently that rule doesn't apply to Sevika. She's just enjoying her smoke.

She looks up as you approach, grinning. “Hey there, kid,” she greets as she tilts her head to the side, giving you a once-over. “How's it going?” She blows out a stream of smoke that quickly drifts away.

You try not to cough when the smoke drifts into your face. You give her a half-smile. “It's going,” you reply, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I mean, you know how it is.” You nod your head at the cigarette between her fingers. “I'm surprised Vander hasn't kicked you out yet.”

Sevika grins, the corners of her lips curving into a smirk. She places the cigarette between her lips again, taking a deep drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Believe me,” she replies, “he's threatened to do it about fifty times tonight.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “I can imagine.”

She puffs on the cigarette once more. “He's got that whole 'you're under my roof' speech down pat. I've heard it a hundred times.”

“Yet here you are,” you muse, gesturing at the cigarette in her fingers. “Still taking your chances.”

“I gotta get my cigarette fix.” She grins. She flicks some ash off the end before taking another drag. “Vander can lecture me all he wants, but I'm never giving up my vices.”

You're about to reply to Sevika, but you're interrupted by the sound of a familiar laugh. An arm slides around your shoulders, and you're surprised to see Ekko standing beside you. He grins at you, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Hey stranger,” he teases.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, bumping him with your hip.

He laughs before his eyes drift to Sevika. He looks from the cigarette in her fingers up to her face, then back to the cigarette again, then back to her face. He gives her a disapproving look, and Sevika just grins around the cigarette in her mouth. “Are you really smoking in the house?" Ekko asks, arching an eyebrow. 

Sevika takes a puff on her cigarette and shrugs. “I already told the kid, I live for the thrill,” she replies, shooting you a wink. “Besides, it helps me relax.”

Ekko rolls his eyes. “Of course it does,” he mutters. He turns to you. “Don't follow in her footsteps, got it?”

You stifle a laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” you say, waving him off. “I think I can handle myself, dad.”

“Hey!” Ekko exclaims. He places a hand on his chest. “I just don't want you to end up like some people.” He casts a pointed look in Sevika's direction. He then leads you away from Sevika, pulling you into the living room where the karaoke set up is. All of your friends are crowded around it, and Mylo and Powder are squabbling over the karaoke.

Claggor is perched on the floor watching his siblings, and he turns his head and smiles when he sees you. “Hey, you made it!” he says, getting to his feet. He claps you on the back, pulling you into a hug.

“Yeah, guess I couldn't keep away,” you joke, returning Claggor's hug. “I'm surprised you didn't try to stop me, honestly.”

Claggor grins and releases you. “Eh, I get it,” he says. “I know it's a little complicated for you to be here, but still... you're always welcome here. You know that, right?”

You nod, giving him a smile. “Yeah, I do.”

He pats your shoulder again, then turns back to Mylo and Powder, who are bickering again over who gets to go first.

Your eyes dart across the living room. And then, there she is, viola! sitting on the couch, she doesn't notice you at first. Until, a moment later, her eyes drift your way as you and Ekko walk over together.

She sits up a bit straighter as you walk closer, and she's looking at you too long for your liking.

Powder glances over at her older sister curiously when she sits up straighter. Mylo glances at Vi too, his eyes narrowing as he notices the look in her eyes. He looks like he's about to say something, but Powder reaches over and smacks the back of his arm, shaking her head.

He scowls at her. “What was that for?!” he growls.

Powder shoots him a look. “Shut it.”

Ekko grins, taking an open spot on the couch. He pats the spot next to him, gesturing for you to sit down. You glance at the spot, and it is...right next to Vi. You reluctantly take a seat next to her, making sure you sit a few good inches away.

Ekko glances between everyone, clearly noticing the strange atmosphere. “So…”

He's about to ask a question when Vi turns her gaze over to him, giving him such a death glare that he immediately stops talking. Powder shoots him a scathing look as well, her expression telling him to ‘keep your mouth shut’. Ekko laughs nervously, clearly realizing that he was just about to ask a question he definitely shouldn't have asked.

Eventually, Mylo clears his throat. “So, who's up for karaoke?” he asks, trying to break the weird atmosphere.

Powder perks up, her eyes lighting up. “I'll sing next!”

Mylo scoffs. "No way, it's my turn!”

Claggor rolls his eyes. “Seriously? you were just up there.”

While the two boys bicker and Powder starts whining that she wants a turn, you glance away, your eyes involuntarily landing on Vi. She feels your gaze on her and shifts her eyes to you, and your gazes lock. She doesn't say anything, and the eye contact lingers just a moment longer than it should've. She opens her mouth as if she's about to say something but suddenly looks away. Her eyes fixed on the floor, staring down at it for a moment. Finally, she turns to look at you again, lifting her gaze to meet yours.

“Happy New Year's Eve,” she says, giving you a strained smile.

“Yeah,” you force out, “happy new year's to you too.” The words feel flat, coming out almost awkwardly. She doesn't seem like she knows what to say either. She just gives a nod, looking away again.

Claggor grins. “Powder's a better singer than you, anyway,” he teases. 

Mylo turns his glare onto Claggor, shoving him roughly with a muttered, “Shut up, asswipe.”

Claggor scoffs. “At least she can hit the notes,” he shoots back.

Mylo scoffs back at him. “My singing is perfect. Thank you so much.”

“It's not. You sound like a cat being strangled,” Claggor points out.

Mylo's jaw drops. “I do not sound like that!”

“You do.” All of you chime in unison. 

Mylo groans in protest. “You guys suck. I'm the best damn singer here.”

Powder laughs at his claim. “You're the worst singer I've ever heard.”

The trio continue to bicker, and Vi glances over again, her eyes flitting up and down your body. Her eyes flick from your hair to your mouth to your collarbones. She glances at the exposed skin of your neck, her tongue suddenly running across her bottom lip. Her gaze lingers on your chest... and then she realizes what she's doing. With a loud cough, she looks down into her lap, her eyebrows creased and her neck flushed. “You look good,” she says, just loud enough for you to hear her over the sibling's arguing.

You look down at what you're wearing, surprised by her sudden compliment. “Thanks...?” you respond, meeting her gaze again. “You don't look bad yourself.”

Mylo, Powder, and Claggor are too busy bickering to really notice what's happening between you and Vi. Ekko notices, his eyes going back and forth between you two.

But even though they're too immersed in their argument, Vi still keeps her voice low so the others don't overhear her. She glances away again so not to draw attention to the way she was just staring at you. “Thanks.”

Meanwhile, Mylo is yelling at Claggor. “I'm better at everything, including singing!”

“You're better at being stupid,” Claggor fires back.

Powder pipes up with a grin. “Oh! I have a great idea!” They all turn to look at her, including you. She grins wider before saying, “Vi should sing!”

Vi seems a bit taken off guard, her eyes widening. “N-no, no, it's fine, I-” 

Powder pushes her forward. “Come on, sing a song for us!”

Reluctantly, Vi allows herself to be pushed forward, standing in front of the microphone. She shoots Powder a glare for pushing her. “You're an ass,” she grumbles.

Powder grins at her. “Have fun, sis,” she teases.

She sighs, then turns back to the karaoke. She hums a tune to herself as she scrolls through the song list, her eyes skimming over the options. There's a few seconds more of searching, and then her fingers stop at one particular song. She glances around the room, checking to see everyone's waiting to hear what she'll sing. Her eyes land on you last, and she locks gazes with you for a moment.

Before she has a chance to chicken out, she selects the song and stands in front of the microphone. Vi clears her throat again and takes a deep breath. she seems...nervous.

At the start of the song, you immediately recognize the opening notes. It takes you a second to name the song, but when you do... you almost choke. The lyrics start, and there's no denying it. It's true. She's singing what you think she's singing.

—

4 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP, CONFESSION

You're lying in bed, phone in hand, scrolling lazily through random stuff. It's a quiet evening, and the rain patters against your window. Suddenly, you hear a faint melody drifting through the rain. Music. It must be your neighbor who decided to blast music in the rain. but wait...

Did you just hear your name?

You sit up, suddenly intrigued. You place your phone down, sitting up straight as you listen to the music. Your brows furrow, trying to find where the sound is coming from.

It's definitely coming from outside... and it's getting louder. The faint sound of Aerosmith's ‘I Don't Want to Miss a Thing’ reaches your ears. Curiosity now piqued, you slowly get up from your bed and walk over to the window. Pulling back the curtain, you look out into the rainy night, and there, amidst the rain, you spot her. Violet.

She stands under the glow of the street lights, the light rain showering down around her. She's holding something... no. Not something. A boombox. It's an old, weathered boombox. The kind you'd thought had gone out of style decades ago.

She's singing. Singing... for you.

Her face is tilted upward, the rain kissing her face, mouthing the lyrics, “Every moment I spent with you is a moment I treasure.”

It's cheesy, so, so incredibly cheesy. It's so clichéd and almost straight out of a cheesy romcom. The old boombox, the rain, the song. It's something you'd roll your eyes at in a movie. But it's... sweet, in a way. The way her body rocks slightly to the beat, the way the rain glistens on her skin as she sings those lyrics.

You open your window, the rain and wind blow in, and you raise your voice over the sound of the rain. “What the hell are you doing?” you call out. “It's raining! are you crazy, Vi?”

Vi turns her head towards your voice, a smile stretching across her lips when she sees you standing at the window. “I don't care!” she yells back, holding the boombox higher. “I know it's raining. I'm not blind!”

She takes a few steps closer to your house, her rain-soaked hair sticking to her face. The rain and the light from the street lamps bounce off her skin, making her look like a mess. But she's grinning, that smirk plastered on her face as she holds the boombox over her head.

“You're going to catch a cold!” you retort.

“I've lived through much worse than a rain,” she calls back. “And nothing's gonna stop me tonight.” She then takes a deep breath before belting the lyrics out. The smile never leaves her lips. “Don't want to close my eyes. I don't want to fall asleep 'cause I'd miss you, babe, and I don't want to miss a thing.”

You look around nervously, checking to make sure no one is disturbed by her sudden performance. The last thing you need is your parents waking up and finding out that your friend is singing under the rain for you.

“Are you trying to wake up my parents? or the entire neighborhood for that matter?! keep it down, would you?!” you hiss through tightly clenched teeth, leaning out of the window more. “Get inside!” you whisper shout at her.

She continues to hold the boombox above her head, the rain running down her face and dripping from her chin. “Come on, let me finish at least!”

“You're going to get sick,” you protest, “and my parents will be mad,” you try to reason. Although the idea of your parents waking up to the sight of her standing outside, singing a love song to you, is... funny. 

Vi just laughs at your warning, shaking her head. “Eh, who cares about that? I'm having way too much fun pissing your parents off right now!”

“Stubborn idiot,” you murmur to yourself, sighing. 

You head downstairs to the closet to grab an umbrella. As you grab it, you give a quick glance out your living room window. Vi is still there, holding that boombox, continuing to sing in the rain. Grabbing the umbrella, you step out into the rain. The rain instantly slaps your face, and you quickly pop open the umbrella, holding it over your head.

Vi turns around to face you as you approach. Her singing falters when she sees you. Her smile widens, and she lowers the boombox.

“You really are the stupidest, most stubborn woman I know,” you grumble, holding the umbrella over your head as you reach Vi.

Vi is clearly soaked. She looks like a drowned rat, but despite the mess and her wet state, she's still grinning.

“Do you know how loud you are?” you ask. “You might wake up the whole damn neighborhood, banging that boombox at this hour. It's late, you loud, stubborn idiot.” You pause, studying her appearance. Her face is flushed, the redness on her cheeks betraying her. It could be the rain, the cold, or maybe...

“What?” you ask. “Nothing to say? cat got your tongue?”

Vi pauses, her eyes meeting yours. The rain continues to fall, slapping against the umbrella.

“I like you.”

What?

“No,” you watch as she shakes her head, correcting herself, rain dripping from her hair. “I love you. No, I'm in love with you.”

You stare at her, stunned. The words coming out of her mouth are unexpected. Your mind is in chaos. How could she do this, spring this confession on you all of a sudden? Your eyes are wide, your mind whirling. “What are you talking about?”

Her cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, the redness spreading to the tips of her ears. “I said I love you,” she repeats. “I love you. I've... I've loved you for a long time.” 

She takes a step closer, the rain continuing to fall around you both. The boombox is still clutched tightly in her hand, the music still playing faintly.

You're speechless, struggling to find the words to respond. Your heart is racing and your mind is spinning. After all the years of friendship, all the ups and downs, all the times you've seen her in all her glory... this is when she chooses to confess? now? in the middle of goddamn rain?

Your gaze shifts on her lips. They're slightly parted, raindrops clinging to them. They look soft, even under the rain, even in this awkward and confusing moment.

Vi speaks again, and her words snap you back to reality. “You don't have to say it back…” she says, her voice shaky. “I just needed you to know.”

“And I know I'm a fool,” she continues, her grip on the boombox tightening. “Singing my heart out in the rain like a dumbass... but I couldn't hold it in any longer. You're all I think about.”

Your hands clench around the handle of the umbrella, her confession replaying in your head. I love you. I'm in love with you.

All the times you've admired her, all the times a simple glance got your heart to race... It makes sense now. The feeling you always tried to ignore—the warmth and the flutter in your stomach.

You don't know what to do, what to say, and those damn lips of hers are not helping at all.

Screw it.

Your brain stops thinking, and you act on impulse. The umbrella clatters to the ground, raindrops drenching you both as you step closer to her. You wrap your arms around her neck, pressing your lips against hers.

Her body is tense, clearly taken by surprise, but after that, she melts into your arms. She drops the boombox, letting it fall into a puddle by her feet, and wraps her own arms around your waist. 

She's kissing you eagerly, hungrily, her lips moving against yours in a way that leaves you breathless. Her tongue slides against your lower lip, seeking entrance. You could never deny her anything, and you part your lips, letting her tongue explore your mouth.

Her hands roam over your body. Touching and grabbing at any part of you she can reach. Her tongue is hot against yours. Sliding and tangling together, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your lips break away from hers, both of you drawing in ragged breaths.

Her forehead pressed against yours. Both of you are shaking from the cold. Her eyes are half-lidded as she looks at you, her lips swollen and red. “That's…” she mumbles, her voice hoarse. “That's one way to respond to a confession.”

Your arms remain around her neck, fingers buried in her wet hair. She's still gripping your waist, holding onto you tightly, her other hand coming up to brush a rain-soaked lock of hair from your face. “You're quiet.” Her thumb traces a path across your bottom lip. “Got something to say, or did I shut you up for good?”

“You always have to be so damn dramatic about everything, don't you?” you mutter, fighting the urge to smile. “Not even a proper date first or anything,” you continue, “just straight to saying I love you, no buildup. Very classy, very romantic.”

Her laughter is a low rumble in her chest when she shakes her head. “Welp, I'm a hopeless romantic,” she jokes, the corner of her mouth lifting in a lopsided grin. “When I see something I want, I go for it.” Her eyes roam over your face. “And I really, really want you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Now can we get inside before we freeze our asses off?” You reach down to pick up the umbrella. “I think we've given the neighborhood enough of a show for one night.”

Your eyes flicker from her soaked clothes to her shivering frame. “If you end up sick, my mom will have my ass for letting you stay out here for so long. You know what she's like when it comes to you…” Your voice softens, concern lacing your words. “C'mon, let's get inside before we catch a cold.”

Her shoulders sag when you mention your mother. She glances down at herself, taking in her wet clothes and shivering body. “Alright, alright,” she mutters. “Last thing I need is another lecture from your mom. She's damn scary.” She bends down to pick up the abandoned boombox, shaking off the rainwater.

You usher her to the front door of your house, your hand resting on her lower back to guide her. Her clothes are damp against your touch.

The door swings open, revealing your mother with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “You sure managed to wake up the damn neighborhood with your display out there.” Her eyes flicker between you and Vi.

—

6 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

You remember it all.

She used to hum that exact song to you. All the time. Humming in your ear, wrapping her arms around your waist, watching you clean dishes or cook.

Sometimes, she wouldn't even hum it. Sometimes, she would just sing the lyrics to you, while her fingertips would trace random patterns on your skin. Doodles on your back, swirls on your stomach, sometimes little hearts on your arm.

You'd always tease her. “Do you know any songs other than this one?” She'd just chuckle and hum the song harder.

All the while, she would pepper small kisses on your neck and shoulders.

You'd try to push her off, “Stop, I'm trying to clean,” even if you both knew that it was useless to try and stop her.

Sometimes you'd even start singing along in a loud, off-key voice, just to annoy her.

She'd stop humming and glare at you. “Stop that,” she'd say, pouting.

You'd just laugh at her. “Make me,” you'd challenge.

You always used to laugh and tease her about it at first... but slowly, it started to grow on you.

You'd catch yourself humming the song after she stopped visiting, and you hated that your mind instinctively wanted to hear her voice singing it. Sometimes, you'd hum it yourself, but it never compared to how she sang it. She's so much better than you.

The song continues, you just couldn't take your eyes off her. She's just... breathtaking. The way her eyes closed as she got into the song, the way her lips moved with the words, it made you want to reach forward and...

...what are you thinking? you can't do that. you can't do that. So, instead, you just sit there. You just listen. You just watch.

She's looking at you. You can feel it. Her gaze lingers on you longer than everyone else. She's really singing to you, isn't she? why does she have to make this harder?

Your heart is beating so hard, you wouldn't be surprised if everyone could hear it.

When the song finally ends, you're snapped out of your thoughts. Everyone cheers, clapping loudly.

“That's my sister!” Powder exclaims.

Mylo whistles. “Better than I expected.”

Claggor just grins, giving Vi a round of applause.

While everyone else starts chattering, you just sit there in stunned silence. Your palms are starting to sweat, and you feel sick.

Vi sits down on the couch next to you, sitting close but not close enough to actually touch or bump into you.

The others begin taking their turns singing. Ekko sings first. He starts singing a song you don't recognize, but it's something rap and upbeat. Mylo takes the mic next and immediately starts butchering a love song. Powder laughs her ass off, “You're terrible at this!”

Claggor gives Mylo a glare before taking the mic, and he actually sings a pretty decent song. “See?” he says, shooting another glare at Mylo, “that's how you do it.”

Mylo lets out an indignant squawk. “Yeah, whatever, I'm not even trying.”

“Whatever helps you feel better about sucking.” Powder snickers.

It goes on like that, back and forth. One sings, the others make comments, Powder makes fun of Mylo, repeat.

The whole time, you're just stuck there with Vi. So close yet so far away.

—

4 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP

Vi's cheek rests on the countertop, her fingers mindlessly running over the rim of the glass in front of her. It's empty, having never even been touched. Vander leans on the other side of the bar, still cleaning the glass in his hand. The place is nearly empty now, just a few stragglers sitting here and there.

“You gonna drink that?” Vander asks, raising an eyebrow at Vi's untouched drink.

Vi doesn't lift her head from the counter. “Nah,” she says. “Not in the mood tonight.”

Vander looks at her for a moment, still cleaning the glass. He puts the glass down, resting his arms on the counter, leaning forward.

“Something's on ya mind?”

She lifts her head up, rolling it until it's resting on her chin instead. She doesn't look at Vander. Her gaze on the wall on the other far side of the bar. “Can I ask you something?”

Vander pauses, then he simply nods. He knows what that tone means. The same way he knows the look in her eyes. “Sure,” he replies, “go ahead.”

“How do you…” she starts, her fingers slowly tracing the rim of the glass. “How do you know when you've found the right person?”

Vander knows where this is headed. He thinks for a moment, scratching his beard. “The right person,” he repeats. “Well,” he answers, “you can usually feel it here.” He slowly touches his chest over his heart. “Why are you asking?”

Vi suddenly feels like a little girl again, sitting at the bar, watching her father work. It's so familiar, something she never seems to grow out of. “Dunno,” she says, looking back down at the glass.

Vander smirks, knowing her too well to take that excuse as an answer. “Try again.”

Vi sighs. She glances up at her father, who's still watching her. Vander knows her too well, sometimes too well. Her fingers stop tracing the glass rim. She sits up, her hand resting idly on the countertop. “There's this girl…” she mumbles.

Vander's smirk almost becomes a grin at her words. He rests his hands on the counter, leaning forward. “A girl, huh?” he muses. “A special girl?” He already can tell the answer to that, judging by how quiet she's been this evening.

Vi rolls her eyes, but she can't stop the hint of pink that appears on her cheeks. She can feel Vander's smirk, and she doesn't have to look at him to know he knows. “Just a girl, okay?” she doesn't want to admit she's completely whipped. But she is.

Vander chuckles, seeing the hint of pink against her skin. “Right,” he drawls, clearly not believing her claim. He moves to grab a glass from behind the bar, and he starts pouring himself something to drink. “Got a name?” 

Vi groans, hiding her face in her hands. Of course he'll ask that question. “Why does it matter?” she mumbles from behind her palms.

Vander can see the tips of her ears turning red, and he has to fight the urge to laugh. “Come on,” he urges, taking a sip of his drink. “What's the harm in telling a name? at least a first name.”

Vi peeks at her father from between her fingers. She knows he's not going to drop it. So with a sigh, she slowly lowers her hands, looking down at the counter. She mumbles your name, the tips of her fingers starting to fiddle with the glass again.

“So this girl…” he continues, “you been seein' her?”

His question causes her to snap her head up. He looks back at her, his smirk still present on his face. Vi shakes her head, glancing back down at her hands. “No… she's just a friend.”

Vander raises an eyebrow. “Just a friend eh?” he asks. “That's all?”

She lifts her head, giving her father a glare. “Yes, that’s all,” she mutters, shifting uncomfortably on the stool.

Vander just grins, looking smug. He sets the glass down on the counter. “She got a boyfriend... or a girlfriend? This friend of yours?”

His question makes Vi freeze. She never thought to find out, but now that he says it, it makes her stomach twist weirdly. She bites the inside of her cheek, shifting on the stool again. “No, I don't think so.”

“You don't think so?”

“I mean, maybe she does. It's not like I've asked,” she says quickly, not liking where this conversation is headed.

“You like her, don't ya?”

Vi's sure her face is completely pink now, her eyes avoiding Vander's. “I dont-” she stops, sighing. Her shoulders slump. Her fingers twisting together. “...so what if I do.” 

He knew it. “Nothin' wrong with it,” he replies, pouring himself some more drink. He doesn't look at her for a few moments, sipping on his drink. “She knows ya like her?”

Vi sighs again, burying her face in one hand. She shakes her head. “No, she has no idea,” she mutters. “And she better not find out. I'd never hear the end of it.”

“Why not? afraid she'll turn ya down?”

Vi's head shoots up from her hands, a glare planted on her features. “No!” she snaps.

Vander just lifts both hands in mock surrender. “Then why are you so scared?” 

“I'm not scared,” she counters. “I'm just worried she'll start treating me differently.”

Vander hums in thought. “And that's a bad thing?”

Her gaze drops back down to her hands fiddling with each other. He doesn't understand. She doesn't want to lose what she has with you already.

Vander raises an eyebrow, watching her. “Why are you so scared of confessing your feelings to this girl? how bad can it be?”

Vi's fingers pause. Her eyes shut tight. “What if she laughs?”

Vander snorts. “That's what you're worried about?”

Vi groans again, dropping her forehead onto the counter. It's not as simple as he made it sound. “She might do more than that, you don't know.”

“You're scared to tell her how you feel because you think she'll... what? beat you up?”

“That's not funny.” How does she explain this to Vander? how does she explain the way her stomach turns and twists at the thought of telling you how she really feels? how much does it terrify her that things wouldn't be the same?

“You worry too much, kid.”

Vi leans back against the stool. “I know.”

“Just tell her you like her already.”

“That's easy for you to say,” she says, her eyes avoiding his gaze.

“Then why are you so afraid to do it?”

Vi groans. “Because I don't wanna lose her.”

“She won't disappear if you tell her you like her.”

“You don't know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” he counters. “Do you really think she'll stop being your friend?”

She knows he's right, at least partially, but she's still scared.

Vander sighs, his eyes narrowing at her. He knows he just needs to give her the final shove. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

“For a while..”

Vander hums. “And you still haven't told her,” he states. It's not a question. It's a fact.

Vi starts to fiddle the hem of her shirt. 

“How long are you gonna keep avoiding it?” 

She mumbles something too quiet for him to make out. 

“What's that?” he asks.

Vi grumbles, her shoulders slumping. “I said, 'probably forever, probably.'”

Vander lets out a laugh. “You're impossible.”

“You don't know how hard this is.”

“You're always making things difficult,” he teases, then he suddenly asks, “Do you trust me?” 

Vi lifts an eyebrow. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”

He leans in closer to her. “Then just listen to me for a minute.”

Vi hesitates but nods at him to continue. 

Vander leans an elbow on the counter. “Stop being a coward and just do it.”

Vi's brows furrow, ready to argue, but before she can speak, Vander holds up a hand to silence her. “Don't say anything,” he murmurs, his eyes piercing her. “Listen, you're scared you'll lose her. I get it. But trust me, if you really know her, and I know you do, why would she stop being friends with you just because you like her?”

Vi opens her mouth to object, but Vander continues before she can.

“Stop overthinking, stop being so damn stubborn, and just tell her how you feel.” Vander takes advantage of her speechless state to keep going. “Worst-case scenario, she doesn't feel the same. Sucks, but you'll survive. Life goes on.” He pokes her forehead. “Stop being a big sissy.”

“I'm not a big sissy,” Vi grumbles, swatting at his hand.

“Come on, punk,” he teases. “When did you ever let fear stop you from doing something before?”

Vi huffs. She knows he's got a point.

“You've gotten into so much trouble before. You started fights, you stole things. You even stole from me, for gods' sake,” he scoffs. “But you're too afraid to tell a girl you like her?" 

She hates that he's right, and she hates that she's so damn predictable.

“You're being ridiculous,” he scolds. “You've done scarier things than this, and yet you're shitting your pants over telling your friend that you like her.” He always has a way of calling her out. “I'm just trying to knock some sense into your thick skull, pup.”

She shifts on her seat. gaze dropping to the floor. “Don't get me wrong, I want to. Badly. But-” she pauses, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “What if it doesn't work out? what if we just end up hurting each other? or worse… what if she will just hate me in the end?”

Vander's brows furrow. He has a feeling she will say something like this, and once again, she's right. The what-ifs are always scary. He thinks for a moment, his fingers tapping an absentminded beat on the countertop. As much as he likes to, he can't deny that the outcome of a relationship is uncertain.

“Hey,” he says. “Look at me.”

Vi hesitantly lifts her head, her eyes meeting his.

“It's true. We can't predict the future,” he starts. “But we can't let fear hold us back, either.”

“What if it ends badly?”

“Life is all about taking risks,” he replies. “You can't always play it safe, not when it comes to love.”

“But-”

Vander cuts her off. “It's never easy. When you love someone, you're putting yourself out there. You're letting her into your heart, and that's scary as hell. There's no guarantee of anything. Love isn't easy. It's not simple. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it's messy, sometimes it's even painful.” He pauses, studying her face closely.

“But you know what else?” he continues. “The good parts make all of that worth it. The smiles, the laughter, the feeling of her hand in yours. The little things, like waking up next to her or sharing a moment with her that no one else would have. That's what makes love worth it. The uncertainty, the fear... those are just parts of the journey.”

Vander holds her gaze. “Don't let that fear stop you from experiencing what could be amazing.”

He lets out a sigh. “You feel it, don't you? the way your heart beats faster when you're around her? that flutter in your chest when she smiles? the heat in your cheeks when she laughs?”

“That feeling, that connection,” he continues. “That's something special, Vi. Something rare and beautiful. You can't just ignore that. You can't pretend it doesn't exist. Look, I'm not going to pretend that I can make this choice for you. That's not my place... but I will tell you this.” He reaches out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It's always worth the risk, Violet.”

—

6 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

Everyone makes their way to Vander's backyard. He's standing at the grill, flipping burgers and hot dogs.

Powder is a few feet away, setting up a few fireworks displays that she made in advance before walking over to Mylo and setting up a few lawn chairs. Silco and Benzo are standing near Vander, talking quietly among themselves, occasionally stealing a beer from the cooler.

You find yourself sitting in a lawn chair with a soda in hand, while Claggor is sitting in the chair beside you, laughing at something that Ekko said. You take a sip, letting the liquid slide down your throat. You sigh, slouching in the chair.

“Seriously, have you ever even talked to a girl before?” Claggor says, raising an eyebrow.

Ekko gasps. “I have too! I've talked to tons of girls.”

“Name one.”

“...”

Claggor grins, poking Ekko. “That's what I thought.”

You can hear Powder and Mylo arguing about something stupid, just like they always do. Mylo seems really angry about it. “You never listen to me!”

“It's not my fault your ideas suck!” Powder argues back.

It's like the two of them never run out of things to bicker about, no matter how petty or ridiculous. They can argue about the weather. Mylo could look outside, see that it's raining, and still somehow get mad at powder and vice versa.

Vi is a few feet away, standing next to Vander. She has a cigarette hanging from her lips.

You've seen her smoke countless times. Sometimes she would blow smoke in Powder's face just to piss her off, or she would take a drag and then kiss you, the lingering, slightly bitter taste of the cigarette on her lips. She would even try to blow the smoke into your mouth. It's such a weird feeling, feeling the smoke pass from her lips to yours.

You take a sip of your soda, taking your eyes off her before you could remember anything else.

Across from you, Sevika glances at you from over the top of her beer bottle. She looks like she wants to say something, but she just takes another swig from the bottle instead.

Soon enough, Vander finishes with the grilling. Everyone scrambles to get their food, with Mylo and Claggor passing out paper plates loaded up with hotdogs and hamburgers.

Everyone gathers around in a circle. Silco is holding a bottle of beer in his hand, raising it up. “I have something to say.”

Everyone quiets down, glancing at Silco. Powder is still stuffing her face with food, but Ekko grabs her arm. “Stop eating and listen.” Powder grumbles something but sets her food down, giving Silco her full attention (as much as she can, at least).

Silco clears his throat, taking a sip from his beer. “New years. The start of a fresh year, a new beginning.”

He glances around at everyone, his eye lingering on Vi for a few seconds, and then his gaze lands on you. You quickly look down, taking a sip from your soda and pretending like you didn't notice.

“This year has been a shitshow, we all know it, but we always manage to keep together. No matter what happens, we're all family here. We look after each other. We take care of each other.”

Claggor and Ekko share a look. You notice Powder giving Mylo a nudge with her elbow. Mylo scowls at her.

He takes another sip of beer. “It's a time to forget about mistakes and move forward, to grow and learn, and for some of us…” his gaze drifts towards Powder and Mylo. “It's a time to stop acting like brats.” He continues, drumming his fingers against the side of his beer bottle, “So as tradition, I want everyone to think of a resolution for the new year. It could be as silly as wanting to eat healthier or something bigger like getting a new job or going on a trip.”

It's another one of Silco's traditions. It's something they all do every year. Everyone is thinking about their resolutions, thinking of something they want to keep for the new year.

Claggor and Ekko are still sharing looks, and you can hear Mylo and Powder whispering about something.

He glances around at everyone, raising an eyebrow. “Alright, any volunteers?”

No one makes a move. Everyone is either stuffing their face, or they're thinking about their New Year's resolutions, or they're just keeping quiet.

Silco sighs. It looks like it's down to him. “Jesus. If no one wants to go first... guess I'll go.” He raises his beer. “My resolution for this year is I want to get healthier. Eat healthier, stop smoking so much.”

Benzo chuckles. “A little too late for that, don't you think?”

“It's never too late,” Silco says, sending a glare at him.

He takes a sip of his beer before looking around. “Alright, anyone next? or am I really the only one going?”

When no one volunteers, Vander steps up. He raises his beer. “I can't say I have anything big, but I want to fix up the bar and give it a bit of a makeover. Something different.”

“New paint job?” Ekko asks.

Vander nods. “Might as well. It's needed it for a while.” He looks around. “Anyone else got anything to share?”

Benzo glances around before he finally decides to chime in. “Well, my resolution...hmm.” His hand rests on Silco's shoulder. “I want to convince Silco to stop smoking so much.”

“I just said-”

“Yeah, but you've been saying the same thing every year. Your ass is still here, smoking your lungs to death.”

“I'm trying,” Silco mutters.

Benzo laughs, patting his shoulder. “Sure you are.” Silco grumbles something under his breath but says nothing. Benzo takes a swig from his beer. “Who's next?”

Claggor is staring down at the beer in his hand, swirling it and watching the liquid move around the bottle. His eyebrows furrow.

Vander glances at him. “You got one, boy?”

Claggor snaps out of his thoughts, looking over to his father. He hesitates but ends up nodding, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I actually have one.” He hesitates for a second before speaking, “My new year's resolution is... well, my goal is to pass my final exams so I can get my certificate for being a certified mechanic, but... it'll take a lot of work.”

Vander beams. “That's a good resolution. Hard but achievable.”

“Yeah, it won't be easy, but I really want to get it done. I just-” Claggor suddenly looks down at his beer again. “I just don't know if I can do it.”

Vander places a hand on his shoulder. “Don't doubt yourself. You've got the potential. We're all rooting for you, kid.”

“Yeah, you'll make a great mechanic,” Ekko chimes in, “and all of us will be in your garage for free car services.”

That gets a laugh out of Claggor, and he gives Ekko a punch on the arm. “Sure thing. I'll give all of you free services once I pass.”

“Now you're speaking my language,” Mylo grins. “Once you're a mechanic, you better make sure you don't overcharge me.”

“I know you can't afford me, Mylo,” Claggor teases. “I'm going to make you pay double.”

There's a collective chorus of ‘oooh's,’ and Mylo rolls his eyes. “Okay, smartass.”

Claggor laughs, taking a sip of his drink. “Who's next?”

Everyone goes quiet again. No one else is saying anything. The only sounds are the clinking of Claggor setting his beer down and Ekko opening a bag of chips.

Powder is sitting quietly, staring at her hands. Her fingers are picking at a loose piece of skin on her thumb.

Silco glances at her. “Powder?”

She looks over, suddenly blinking out of her own thoughts. “Oh—right, my turn.” Powder pauses for a second, staring down at her drink. She clears her throat and raises her soda. “My resolution for the new year is... I want to get into MIT. I know it's a long shot, but I really want to get in.”

Everyone is quiet for a few seconds, processing the words that just came out of her mouth. Then there's a sudden barrage of questions.

“MIT!”

“Really?”

“How?”

“Are you serious?”

Powder almost loses her balance when everyone starts talking over one another. She grumbles, waving her hands around to try and get everyone to be quiet. “Okay, okay! Shut up and I'll explain!”

All of them immediately snap their mouths shut, Powder sighs, and sit up straight. “Thank you. Now if you'll let me continue. Yes, my new year resolution is to get into Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Everyone knows MIT is one of the most competitive schools out there, right? Hell, it's one of the best schools out there. It's... it's really selective. It's a place for brilliant people, but I've been studying a lot, really going hard at it, and I actually think I have a small chance at getting in. I've already looked at their application-”

Mylo interrupts her. “But how are you going to get in? we don't have the money to afford that Pow…”

“I know! I've looked into grants and scholarships, and they do have a few financial programs for students who need help paying. If my applications go through, I can get a partial or even full scholarship. I really want to get in. I know it's a lot of work, but I'm up for the challenge.”

Mylo raises an eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak but Silco cuts him off with a look, ‘Let her finish’ Mylo snaps his mouth shut again, glaring at Silco.

Powder continues. “And honestly, I didn't just wake up one day and decide I wanted to get into MIT. I've been working hard for a while. My grades are great, I have tons of extracurricular activities, a few teachers have agreed to do recommendations for me, and-”

“If you get into MIT, you'll be moving away, right?” Vi cuts in. She pushes herself off the wall, tossing her cigarette into the nearest trash bin, then making her way over to her sister.

Powder's face drops at the question. “If I do end up getting in, I probably won't be around here a lot. MIT is nowhere near here.”

It's an honest answer. There's no sugar coating or beating around the bush to make it seem less harsh. Hearing the words come from Powder's mouth makes it all suddenly seem real. If she does end up getting into that school, she'll be gone. She'll be hours away in a completely different state. 

“I'll probably be busy studying a lot anyway, on top of clubs and stuff. It's a lot of work, honestly, and besides, I can always video call you or something.”

Vi ruffles Powder's hair. “Well, if you are going to be way up there on the east coast...don't forget about me—I mean us,” she looks around. “Yeah?”

Powder sighs and swats at her sister's hand. “I won't forget about any of you. You guys don't have to worry. Once I get into MIT, I won't abandon you all or anything.”

Silco says, “If you think you've got it in you to get into a place like MIT, then go on, kid. Try it.”

Claggor agrees with Silco, nodding. “You can do it, pow-pow. You're smart. You can make it into MIT.”

You give a supportive smile and a nod. “If you really want it, I think you should go for it. If you get in, you'll be going to a place for brilliant people, and you're definitely smart enough to be one of them.”

“Jesus, you're gonna be a long way away,” Mylo says, sighing.

Benzo adds, “Yeah, but it's good for her. Getting into somewhere like MIT is no small feat. Go for it, kid.”

Vander looks over at Powder and smiles. “That is a big place for big things. If you think you can make it, go for it. We're always here for you, Pow-pow.”

Ekko grins. “And if you get in, you'll have to show us around the campus.”

“Thanks… thank you guys. I didn't think I'd be so nervous about saying all that, but…” Powder glances around at them. “Now you guys have to share your resolutions now.”

Everyone's heads collectively turn to Mylo. He groans in response. “My resolution is, uh... to get laid and have a... girlfriend maybe,” he mumbles out, not really putting a lot of effort into his answer.

Claggor snorts. “That's what you said last year too.”

“Hey, things change! It's going to happen this year!” Mylo huffs. “And it's gonna be an actual girlfriend this time!”

“Like you had a fake girlfriend before?” Powder teases.

The group goes quiet, a few awkward glances going around. You notice a few people look at you, then at Vi. You can't count how many people clear their throat at that.

After a few seconds, Claggor speaks, “Well, that's... that's a resolution, I guess?”

Powder clears her throat again. “Yeah... guess so.”

Mylo looks over at Ekko. “What about you? what's your resolution?” he tries to distract everyone from the awkward silence.

Ekko glances around, then shrugs. “Dunno, figure things out, I guess. I think we all have stuff we need to figure out, so that'll probably be my resolution, to just... figure it out.”

“Figured out anything yet?” Powder teases him.

Ekko chuckles. “Not yet, still working on it. It's complicated.”

Mylo snorts. “Yeah, we could tell. You've had the same crush since middle school.”

Ekko opens his mouth, but Silco cuts him off. “Enough about the kid's love life. What about yours, Sevika?”

Sevika, who's been quiet the whole time, leans back in her chair. “I haven't really thought about it too much. I'm not a big resolutions kind of person.”

Benzo laughs. “Always living life on the fly. What about you, Vi?”

Vi looks at you for a few seconds, then looks away. “Work with myself more, I guess.”

“Work on yourself? in what way?” Claggor asks.

Vi shakes her head. “In a lot of ways, I've got a lot going on. Stuff that I should fix or just figure out,” she says, avoiding any eye contact with anyone but mostly avoiding eye contact with you.

Vander and Silco share a look, silently speaking with their subtle eye movements and raised brows. But neither of them say anything.

“What about you? You haven't shared yours yet,” Powder prompts, turning the conversation to you.

You never really thought too much about your own resolution, but now that they're all looking at you, you're starting to wish you did. You can feel Vi's eyes boring a hole into the side of your face, and you can't bring yourself to look at her.

You take a few seconds to think about your words, then you just decide to go with what you can think of on the fly. “I guess mine is just… taking more chances and risks.”

Powder nods. “Taking risks, yeah, that's good.”

Mylo raises an eyebrow. “Risks? what kind of risks? like skydiving or bungee jumping?”

You're starting to regret your response. You just said the first thing that came to mind, and now they're all going to be asking questions. You glance in Vi's direction, and your eyes meet for half a second. She quickly breaks the eye contact, looking away. 

You swallow hard and turn your attention back to the group. “Yeah, just...yeah, like that.”

Mylo scoffs, and it's obvious that he doesn't believe that. But he seems to decide not to pry into your answer too much. “Skydiving is definitely something I'll be interested in trying someday.”

Powder smirks. “You'll have a heart attack before the parachute even opens.”

“What? I'm in great shape. I could do it.”

“The only way you could skydive is if you were pushed out of the plane yourself.”

Mylo scowls and flips her off. “I could do it if I wanted.”

“Yeah. Uh-huh, sure you could.” Powder then checks her phone, checking the time 11:50. “Almost midnight!” she exclaims excitedly, jumping up and running over to the fireworks she was preparing. 

The rest of the group starts getting up, grabbing beers, and setting up for the upcoming countdown. 

Mylo and Ekko begin helping Powder, adjusting different fireworks, and making sure everything is in order. Powder is making some last-minute adjustments, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in silent concentration. Ekko notices this and laughs. “You look stupid when you do that.”  Powder just sticks her tongue out more in response, flipping Ekko off with a free hand as she continues working.

You look around, suddenly realizing that Vi is not where she was a few moments ago. You hear a noise next to you, suddenly you feel a presence beside you. You expect to see Vander or Silco. You look up to find Vi standing beside you.

She notices you noticed her but doesn't say anything, just kind of hovering beside you awkwardly. Both pretending to look around at everyone else's preparations for the new year's countdown, but neither of you is paying attention.

After silence and silence, the countdown begins, everyone in the group yelling out the numbers.

“10”

Mylo has his arm around Claggor's shoulders, ready to shout along with everyone else. Sevika raises a beer in the air. Benzo is recording the countdown. Silco and Vander are standing next to each other.

“9”

Powder is bouncing on her toes, her hand on the igniter, ready to fire the fireworks into the air. Ekko is standing beside her, a smile on his face as he watches her.

“8”

Mylo's head is thrown back as he yells the countdown. Benzo raises his phone up higher, trying to get a better view of the fireworks for the video. You glance at Vi, and this time your eyes meet, she's already looking at you.

“7”

Her eyes snap away as soon as your eyes meet, acting like she's not been looking at you in the first place. You're left wondering if she even wants to look in the first place. Maybe it's just a coincidence. 

Her cheeks have a faint dusting of pink, but it can easily be blamed on the cold.

“6”

You swallow hard, your heart starts to pick up its pace. Your eyes flick back to her, and this time she's staring off somewhere to the side, refusing to look at you. You start to get a nagging, sinking feeling in your stomach, but you push it aside.

It's not like she's looking at you because she wants to. Right?

“5”

Suddenly, you feel a touch against your knuckles, causing your fingers to twitch at your side. It's a subtle touch, one that you could ignore. But you don't. You don't dare look down at her hand, you don't even move your hand away. 

“4”

Vi's fingers are still touching your knuckles, and neither of you are moving away, neither of you are saying anything, and neither of you are looking at each other.

“3”

Just 6 days ago, she held your hand tight on her own, but now it feels like a simple brush of fingertips over knuckles is almost too much to handle.

“2”

Slowly, almost cautiously, you feel her pinky fingers touch yours. They brush against your skin, trying to intertwine your fingers with her own. It's hesitant and slow, but after a few moments, you take the chance and slowly move your fingers over hers, intertwining them.

“1”

Her fingers twitch when you intertwine your fingers with hers, like she's shocked that you're letting yourself do this. She doesn't pull away though, her fingers just tighten, locking yours together. 

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The group erupts into cheers and celebration, shouting out the words loudly and fireworks and whistles going off all around. Powder is shouting and smiling and laughing, launching fireworks into the air. Mylo and Ekko lift Powder up, settling to their shoulders, shouting happily. Benzo raises his phone, getting the whole scene on film.

Vander and Silco glance at them, then shake their heads with a smile. Silco murmurs something quietly, too quiet for anyone else to hear. Vander snorted at whatever he said.

Claggor nervously glances at Mylo and Ekko, worried that they're going to drop her sister accidentally. Powder notices him looking and grins cheerfully. “It's fine, it's fine!” she reassures him, then throws her hands up in the air. “WOO! Happy new year!”

Sevika downs the last of her beer, then tosses the can aside. She raises her eyebrows at the scene of Powder being lifted up in the air, a smirk crossing her face.

You turn to look at her once again. The fireworks light up her face in a kaleidoscope of colors.

She looks so... soft like this. Relaxed. Peaceful. You drink it all in. You want to remember this. The way the colors play across her face. The way the fireworks light up in her eyes. The way her eyes look so much more blue under the colored lights. 

It should be illegal for her to look this good.

You've seen her make a hundred different expressions, every one of them just as beautiful as the last. But somehow, the way the light plays across her face is making her look downright ethereal.

You've always loved her hair. The way it frames her face, how you always want to bury your fingers in it.

You want to reach up and brush her cheek, to run your fingers over the little bumps of those freckles. You want to count them all, and you want to make sure you don't miss a single one. Maybe even kiss each one, if you're feeling daring.

You think about her lips. The pouty, pretty, perfect curve of them. How pink they are and how soft they look, how much you want to kiss them or watch them say your name.

You want to kiss the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jaw. Maybe whisper something in her ear, just to watch her shiver.

The way she talks. The way her voice can be so gravelly but also so smooth at the same time. The way she laughs, her eyes lighting up as her body shakes. The way her voice gets breathless when she's riled up.

You love the way she says your name, how it sounds so different on her tongue than anyone else's.

You want to hear her say it again. You want to hear her say it over and over, so many times that it starts to lose its meaning. You want to hear her say it until you forget how to breathe without her name in your lungs.

You want a thousand more moments like this one. Moments where the rest of the world faded away, moments where you thought there might someday be more to your relationship than broken glass and sharp words.

You want the domesticity of sharing a space with her. The quiet evenings and the stupid, petty arguments. Being able to come home after work and share a bed instead of coming home alone and trying to silence the aching in your chest.

You want the stupid things. Like cooking together, doing laundry, going shopping. You want to walk through the rain together and laugh at the stupid, soggy-haired look on her face. You want to hear her sing in the shower, complain about the weather, and have her crawl into bed with you when it's cold outside.

You want the dumb little arguments about who's turn it is to do the dishes, what movie to watch, and who forgot to fold the laundry. You want stupid, mundane things like the annoying morning alarm she sets that she hates and the dumb coffee mug that she drinks out of every morning.

You want the little things. The way she would leave the bathroom door open when she's brushing her teeth just so she can continue talking to you. The way she'd pull you to her side when you're watching movies. The way she'd steal your food even though you're both sitting at the same table.

More than that, more than the stupid fights and small annoyances, you just want her. You want all of it. Every stupid, messy, frustrating, wonderful thing. All of it. You just want her, every part of her. The soft parts, the hard edges, and the broken bits.

And there it is. There's the realization that makes your chest tighten.

You're still in love with her.

Somehow, that thought shouldn't surprise you. The way you've been acting around her, the way you've watched her without even realizing, the way you've ached to reach out and pull her against you. It should've been obvious.

You think of all the days you've spent apart. The sleepless nights spent waiting for a call or text that never came. The countless times you'd wished you could see her, touch her, kiss her, love her. The times when you'd told yourself over and over again that you were perfectly fine being single, that you didn't need her.

You'd been wrong. You'd been so, so wrong.

Because no matter how much you'd tried to deny it, no matter what you'd told yourself, nothing could change the way you feel. There's no way you could get rid of the way your heart stutters every time you look at her. You can't change the way you still crave her. You don't think you'd ever be able to forget the way her smile makes you feel like you're coming home.

You're still so goddamn hopelessly in love.

You're so focused on her that you don't even notice Vander looking at the two of you.

Vander glances over to Silco, shooting him a look. Silco's eyes flick to the two of you, then he grins, raising one eyebrow at Vander. Vander rolls his eyes, returning the expression.

—

7 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

The celebration has died down now, the clock striking past 1 am. Everyone is finishing up, cleaning up the trash and any unwanted mess.

Vi is in the middle of picking up a few empty cans lying on the ground, throwing them into the overfilled bin. Her head is bowed forward, her hair falls over her face, her body bent at an angle to reach the ground, her skin flushed warm from the cold air. 

There's so many questions floating through your head. You need to talk to her. You need to ask her so many things. Why she ended things, if there was a reason, if she wanted it to end, if you somehow did something wrong. You need to know. You deserve to know.

You watch her for a moment, then take a breath and step forward. “Can we talk?”

She's still bent over, picking things up off of the ground. Her fingers pause in their movement, and she straightens up slowly, her head raising and turning toward you. “Huh?” She blinks a few times before replying, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we can.” She sets the can in her hand down into the bin with a rattle, wiping her hands on her jeans when she's done.

“Can we go somewhere more... quiet?”

She glances at the rest of the group, but they're all mostly focused on their own tasks. “Yeah, yeah, come on.”

You walk across the yard, passing Powder and Ekko, who are teasing each other as they pick up trash, making a game out of it. The two of you walk silently, with no destination in mind. Neither of you quite knows where to take this conversation, but you have to have it eventually. You walk in a mostly awkward silence for a few more minutes.

Vi glances in your direction, noticing how your hands are stuffed deep into your pockets. “Are you cold?” she asks. 

You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. “It's fine.”

She hums in response. Her eyes trail down your body, then back up to your face. Her eyes linger on your hands shoved into your pocket. After a moment, she sighs, then stops walking. “Give me your hand.” She doesn't give you much of a choice as she steps closer to you. She holds out her own hand, keeping it there like she expects you to just place your hand in hers.

But you hesitate. Sure, you're holding her finger just minutes ago, but this feels so different now, so much more real. You know if you put your hand in hers, you won't want to let go… and yet you do it anyway.

The second your hand touches hers, she laces her fingers with yours, pulling your hand toward her. She closes her fingers around your knuckles and tugs your hand closer, lifting it and inspecting your skin, her fingers tracing small circles. She doesn't meet your eyes while she examines your hand, but her gaze is focused on it. 

“You are cold,” she mutters, tracing her fingers over your knuckles and the back of your hand. She lifts your hand, turning your wrist to reveal your palm, then touches your fingertips with hers. “Your hands are like blocks of ice. Christ, you really are an idiot sometimes.” 

Her eyes stay down, but you know her well enough to know that she's smiling. Even she can't keep the smile from her face. “So… what do wanna talk about?”

Her eyes flicker up to your face, but she quickly looks away again, turning to watch her own fingers still tracing over yours. “I just wanted to ask why.”

Her fingers still for a moment, lingering in midair just above your hand. “Why what, exactly?”

“Why did you end things so suddenly? like…” you pause, licking your lips as the question sits on your tongue. “You never gave me a clear reason, just... left. No second thought. No explanation. Nothing.”

Vi's fingers go back to tracing soft lines over your skin, her head still bowed, staring at your hand. She doesn't answer at first, then sighs again. “It's not that... it's not like I wasn't happy. You made me happy. So happy. It's…” she pauses, her teeth catching the inside of her lip as her fingers freeze and she lifts her head finally. “I got scared.”

Her words take you slightly by surprise. Scared?

Her head turns toward you, but she won't meet your eyes. She glances to the side. “I got scared. We were fine. You were fine. I got scared. I got scared that you would change your mind, that you would realize that I wasn't good enough for you. I got scared like a damn coward.” She takes a breath before continuing. “I convinced myself you would be better off without me, so I ended it... to protect you, I guess... it sounds stupid out loud, doesn't it?”

“It sounds like bullshit.” 

Her head snaps up to look at you. Her fingers curling around yours just a bit tighter. 

“You can't just... I thought—I thought I did something wrong. I thought it was me.”

She shakes her head, eyes now locked on your face. “That's not it. God, no, it's not you. You were—are—perfect. Too perfect. You're more than enough. I just didn't…” she pauses, her tongue darting out to lick over her lips. “I'm a mess. I'm just a mess. I was so damn scared of ruining you.” Her eyes darts away, staring at the space between you. Her fingers loosen from where they're squeezing your hand, but she keeps her hold. “I'm sorry.”

It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The only sound you can hear is her quiet breathing and the distant voices of everyone else.

Bullshit. You think to yourself. Bullshit, bullshit.

Bullshit, because she let you go. bullshit, because she didn't talk to you. But all of that is swept away when you notice her head slowly dip forward, her forehead landing on your shoulder.

Your hands move before your brain even has a chance to think. Your fingers slide into her hair, letting go of her hand so one hand can tangle in the pink strands. It's just a muscle memory, you try to convince yourself.

She turns her face into your neck. You hear her sigh, then she shifts forward, melting into you and closing what space was left between you. Her arms wrap around your waist, her fingers gripping the fabric of your clothes. She's holding on like she's scared you'll slip away, even though she's the one who let you go.

Your other arm down to rest of her hip, keeping her close, keeping her here. She sighs again, her breath ghosting over your skin, your stomach tying itself in knots.

“That night... I hate that night. I hate it so much. I hate that you were crying. I hate that I was the reason. I really never wanted you to feel that way, but I couldn't... I couldn't fix it. I didn't know how to fix it, and I was making everything shitty.” She mutters into your shoulder.

“I would have helped you, if only you'd let me.” Your fingers slide over the back of her neck.

You feel her shake her head against your shoulder, her short hair tickling your neck. “I know. I know you would have. I just... couldn't. I wasn't.... I wasn't in a good place, and I was scared of bringing you down with me.”

“You could have told me.” Your hand moves to trail feather light touches through her hair. “You could have told me you weren't alright. That you weren't in a good place. I would have helped you. I would have been there. You didn't have to push me away.”

“I know. I know.” Her grip tightens around your waist, her hands almost shaking as she holds onto you. “I shouldn't have pushed you away. I was being selfish, and I didn't want you... I didn't want you to deal with my crap. I didn't want you to have to deal with... me.”

“Oh, Violet,” your arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her in closer. “I wouldn't mind having to deal with you. I never minded.”

“Shit, I was so stupid. I was stupid,” she whispers, burying her head into the crook of your neck. “I pushed you away because I was a damn idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” you murmur, “stupid? Maybe. A damn coward? Yeah, for sure. But an idiot? no, not an idiot.”

“They're the same,” she mumbles.

“No, they aren't. An idiot wouldn't have ended things out of fear, would they? An idiot would keep going until either both of you messed it up or you fell apart. A coward,” you correct yourself, “would end things because they were afraid of ruining something good.” You brush the tips of her hair away from her face, gently tucking the loose strands back.

She's quiet for a long moment, her face still pressed against your neck. “You make me sound smart.” 

“Well, you can be sometimes.” Your hands return to her hair. “...you made the dumbest decision possible, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” She tilts her head enough for you to see the side of her face. “I know, I know I did. It was so damn stupid. So... dumb.” She lifts her head higher, her nose bumping into the underside of your jaw. “I'm so damn sorry.”

“I... I forgive you. I do. I do forgive you. But-” Your fingers tighten their grip on her hip. “—you can't do that again, please. Just... don't push me away like that again. Don't be a damn coward again.”

“I won't, I promise I won't.” Her hand releases your shirt, rising to cup the side of your face, her thumb brushing across your cheek. “Not again, I swear. I was a damn coward, but I... I won't be like that again.”

“You're going to have to prove it.” Your own hand comes up to cover her's. You hold her palm against your cheek. “After pulling something like that, you're going to have to prove to me that you won't be a damn coward again.”

Her fingers curl against your skin, thumb tracing shapes over your cheekbone. “However I need to, I will. I'll prove it to you, I will. I'll do it a thousand times over.”

You tilt your head into her touch. “You'd damn well better. I'm not going through that again.” You pause, taking a breath. “You have a lot to make up for, you know.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “I know I do, and I will. I'll make it up to you, any way I can.” Her fingers move across your cheek, tracing gentle lines along your jaw, until they come to rest against the underside of your chin. “Every day, if that's what it takes.”

“Every day,” you repeat.

A smile tilts the corner of her mouth. “Then I guess I better get started, hm?”

End.

notes: genuine question tho, would u go back to your ex? ...asking for a friend :D

taglist: @just-levyy, @padsfirewhisky, @jinxjinxjinx12, @writtenbyhollywood, @cottoncandyclouds-stuff, @eilishxo, @wlwdottcom, @lia-winther

[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

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Pitfighter! Vi X Reader: You are the only exception

Warnings: smut, no use of y/n, oral (f receiving),fingering , Vi being a meanie (just a little), fluff, not proofread.

Word count: 2,4K

A/n: Might do a pt 2 (if y'all want it 🤷‍♀️)

You never expected that talking to Vi that one night would have made you end up here. 

Vi’s face is buried between your legs, pulling a sigh from your lips. Your hands grip at the cardboard beneath you body, desperately trying to stop yourself from bucking into her face. You can feel the strong muscles of her shoulders clench as she doubles down on her movements, making a moan rip from your mouth. Vi smirks against your cunt, one hand caressing your thigh as the other continues to put pressure on your hips. 

Loris had told you Vi’s fight tonight had been harder than usual and that he was worried she’d do something stupid. 

“Why don’t you go check on her then?”

“I tried. She told me to fuck off.”

You chuckled, shaking your head.

“She’ll listen if you go. She’s got a soft spot for you.”

That was true. You didn’t know why but Vi seemed to take your advice quite seriously. You’d met her a couple of weeks ago. You were dancing at one of the bars when she stumbled in, completely shitfaced. She’d bumped into you, causing you to spill your drink all over yourself. Most people would have taken one look at Vi and let it go. But not you.

 Oh no, not you. 

You marched right up to her, tapping her on her leather clad shoulder. She turned to face you, eyes falling on your angered expression. 

“You owe me a drink.”

Vi sighed, hand moving to rub at her eyes. She just wanted a quiet night out.

“Do I know you?”

The annoyance was clear in her tone but you didn’t back down. 

“No you don’t. But that didn’t stop you from crashing into me like some drunken sailor.”

Vi couldn’t help but smirk. You were feisty for your size. People normally went the other way when they saw her coming but not you. You walked your cute butt right in her direction. She couldn’t help but be amused. Vi turned to the bartender ordering a glass of her favorite beer, before turning to face you again.

“What you having princess?”

From that night on you became a constant in Vi’s life. You went to all her fights, intensely shouting the whole time as she ploughed through her opponents. When she won you would take her out for a drink, oftentimes dragging her to the dance floor with you. She didn’t really care for dancing but she made the sacrifice for you. When she lost you were the one you would drag her back to her bed, ignoring her mumbles and aggravated words. She’d tell you to fuck off and you tell her to go fuck herself right back. Not many people could handle Vi the way you did and even if she didn’t say it she was grateful for you. 

You had told Lois you’d check on the pink haired girl. He’d given you a grateful look and warned you that she would probably be wound up because of her last fight. He had been right. The second you stepped into her room you could feel the tension in the air. The place was filled with the sound of Vi hitting her punching bag with all her might. You walked in, taking a glance at the broken mirror before moving to sit down on her makeshift bed. You picked at your nails as you waited for Vi to finish ragging. 

“I already told Loris to fuck off.”

“Well I'm not Loris am i?”

You gave Vi a girn which she didn’t return. She gave the bag one last good punch before letting out a defeated sigh.

“Come here.”

“Princess i’m really not-”

“Violet come here.”

Vi raised her head to look up at you. Your tone was commanding but she knew you meant nothing by it. You just wanted her to shut up and let you help her out. She sighed, dragging her feet on the floor as she walked over to you. You moved so that she could sit next to you. 

“You wanna tell me what’s up or…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

You frowned slightly at her dismissive tone but you knew to respect her wishes. There was a lot about Vi you didn’t know about. You hadn’t known her for a long time but even so you’d grown attached to her fairly quickly. That didn't mean she told you everything but something about the way she behaved told you she’d been hurt a lot during her life. You wanted to be there for her. A shoulder to lean on when things got hard. Vi turned to face you, her eyes meeting yours. She placed a hand on your cheek.

“Distract me princess?”

“Sure Vi.”

Vi moved to sit down on the floor in front of you. You knew exactly what she wanted. You widen your legs, allowing her to slot her body against you. Your hands went to her hair, caressing her locks. Vi sighed as your hands massaged her scalp. She didn’t know how you did it but this always managed to remove all the tension in her body. It was such a simple act but it helped wonders. Your hands began to become stained with black as you continued your caress. It’s not like you minded though. You would just wash the grime off when you finished up. Vi sighed, her head moving to rest on your thigh. Your eyes fidgeted to the tattoo on the back of her neck. You always wondered if it had hurt a lot. You thought of asking Vi but something caught your attention. Vi’s lips were close to your thigh. She wasn’t doing anything, but the thought of her lips on your skin made you shiver. The truth was that you had a thing for Vi. The night you’d met you had expected to hate her but you’d been surprised. You had a crush on Vi and no intention of telling her.

Until now that is.

Vi felt your muscles become rigid for a moment. She could feel your fingers tense against her hair, causing her to raise her head. She turned to look at you. You stared down at her, your heart beating faster at the sight of her between your legs. Vi put a hand on your leg which didn’t help at all.

“Everything ok princess?”

Gosh she sounded so hot, her voice scratching against her throat due to all the screaming she’d done hours prior. Your face flushed, your body raising abruptly to stand. The action caused Vi’s face to be directly in front of your crotch and you almost fainted. The pink haired girl cocked her head to the side, brows furring at your odd behavior. She opened her mouth to speak but paused when her eyes caught onto something. There was a wet patch on your pants. It was barely there and the fabric of your shorts hid it well but the angle she was looking up at you made it very clear. Vi’s mouth went dry for a moment. 

After everything that had happened with Caitlyn she had stopped thinking about a lot of things. Sex wasn’t something that was on her mind a lot. She’d hardly get horny lately but the realisation that you were standing in her room, your wet cunt inches from her face made something snap inside her. 

You hadn't registered that Vi knew what was happening, far too focused on slowing your heartbeat to notice the gears turning in Vi’s head. You felt her hand wrap around your thigh, making your head snapp down to look at her. Vi’s pupils were incredibly dilated, she licked her bottom lip absentmindedly, not knowing how the action affected you. 

“Need a little help with this?”

She nodded her head at your crotch and you swore you could die of embarrassment. You unlatched yourself from her grip stumbling against her bed as you tried to move away from her. 

“I’m sorry I didn't mean to. You were so close and I just started thinking about the feeling of…”

Vi rose from the floor, watching as you struggled to make full sentences. She’d never seen you this flushed before, you were usually very confident around her. The thought that she could manage to make you this flustered thrilled her more than she had anticipated. 

“Hey.”

Vi’s voice made you look up from the floor, eyes moving against her features. She placed her hand on your cheek, slowly inching herself closer to you. Her knee slipped between your legs and you let out a whine. Vi smiled, her face mere inches from yours.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, princess.”

She moved her leg up putting more pressure against your pussy. Your hand latched onto her shoulder, nails digging into the muscles as you gasped. 

“So. Do you want my help or not?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

You could feel Vi’s breath against your lips as she spoke.

“I want to.”

You couldn’t take this anymore. Your body launched forward, lips crashing into Vi’s in a desperate kiss. You bit into her lip causing her to groan against your mouth. Vi grabbed at your hips, tugging you up. You wrapped your legs around her waist. She placed a hand on the back of your waist as the other moved to give your ass a squeeze. You gasped against her lips, allowing her to slip her tongue inside your mouth. Her boots clanged against the floor as she walks both of you over to her makeshift bed. She sinks down to her knees, placing you down on the edge of the bed as she continues to attack your mouth. You let out a content sigh as she moved to kiss your neck. 

“Vi i…”

“Yeah?”

She hasn’t even touched you yet and your voice already sounds so fucked out. It makes pride swell into her chest. Your hands grip at her locks tugging them slightly. She detaches her lips from your collarbone at the action, blue eyes gazing up at you.

“You gonna keep teasing or are you gonna help me out?”

“Bossy.”

“You know you love it.”

Vi smiles, nipping at your bottom lip for a moment before answering.

“I really do.”

The confession makes you blush and Vi thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. Her hands move to your waist, tugging at the hem of your shorts. You lift your hips up, allowing her to pull them down your legs. She runs her finger against your clothes cunt, making you buck your hips up. She leans down to kiss your stomach, slowly inching herself lower. Her hand pushes against your stomach, silently telling you to lean back. You do as she asks laying on the bed beneath you. Vi’s hand latch onto your underwear, giving the waistband a small slap against your skin before begging to tug them off. Vi’s brain almost shortcuts at the sight of your bare pussy before her. You’re so incredibly wet for her that it takes her a moment to recover cognitive function. 

“Vi.”

Her name escapes your lips in a throaty whine,causing her to look up at your face.

“Please.”

You are begging for her to give you some release. Begging for her to fuck you stupid with her tongue. And by god if that doesn’t make her horny.

She tugs your legs over her shoulder, shifting herself in a more comfortable position before leaning down to give a lick to your slit. Your reaction is immediate. Your hands latch onto her hair, hips bucking as you chase the feeling of her tongue. The soft whine that escapes your lips makes Vi’s heart pound. She dragged her tongue against your clit, giving it a rough suck before continuing to lapp at your folds. One of her hands moves from its position on your hips, moving up to grab at your tits. Her thumb moves over your clothed breasts, caressing them. But it’s not enough, you want to feel her skin against yours.

Your hips shift slightly as you force yourself to sit up. Vi glances at you curiously for a moment, trying to understand what you're doing. You grab the hem of your shirt tugging it over your head. Vi’s eyes widen as your bare chest is revealed to her. Before she can help it one of her hands wrapped around your breast giving it a squeeze. You let out a loud moan, causing Vi to look at your face. Your eyes are shut, lips slightly parted in pleasure.

“Hey.”

Your eyes open at Vi’s voice, head moving to look down at the girl.

“Eyes on me princess. I want to see you.”

You give her a small smile, shifting back to lean on your elbows. Vi gives you a pleased smile before moving her focus back to your pussy. You try all your might to keep your eyes on Vi as she eats you out but it’s quite the challenge. Vi can tell you're getting close by the way your legs begin to shake around her head. It causes her to move her hand, fingers moving to help her tongue as she brings you to your peak. Your walls clench around her digits as you coat her face in your cum. Your elbows give out as your orgasm washes over you, causing you to fall onto the bed.

“That's it, let it out princess.”

Vi helps you through it, lips moving to give kisses to your thighs as she carefully removes her fingers from inside you. You let out a moan at the sudden emptiness. Vi moves off the floor, climbing up into the bed beside you. She lays on her back, gazing up at the ceiling. You shift closer to her, legs entangeling with hers as you rest your head on her chest. Vi places a small kiss to your temple.

“I had no idea.”

You look up at her.

“About what?”

“That you were attracted to me.”

You let out a small laugh.

“Vi i’ve had a thing for you since that first night at the bar.”

“Oh really?”

You bite your lip, a mischievous look taking over your features. You sit up, shifting until your body is straddling Vi’s hips. She smiles up at you, her hands moving to grip your waist.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you just how much I like you.”

[driverlando]

✧.* PR TRAINING: 0%

synopsis- all the times y/n has been horny on main for Logan

before you continue: suggestive content ahead so minors dni! reblog and follow if you enjoyed <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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logansargeant

liked by yourusername, alex_albon and 64,988 others

logansargeant not a good weekend but we will look ahead to the next race

view all 829 comments

user1 SENDING YOU HUGS 🫶

user2 it’s okay logie bear, we’re all rooting for you 🔥

yourusername sorry you had a bad day, you can touch my boobs if you want

↳ logansargeant that’ll actually help a lot, thank you

↳ oscarpiastri urgh brother urgh

↳ user3 I volunteer as well!!

user4 we love you Logan!! don’t worry!! you’ll do better in the next one

user5 bro looks majestic here

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logansargeantfan

liked by yourusername, user3 and 14,527 others

logansargeantfan I don’t think he realises the power he has over people (me)

view all 526 comments

user6 he got me feeling freaky

↳ yourusername same

yourusername he’s delicious, delectable, luscious, delightful, exquisite, glorious, heavenly, divine, magnificent, fantastic, scrumptious, majestic, mesmerising, captivating, angelic, ethereal, celestial, paradisiacal, magical, enchanting, exquisite, elegant, remarkable, mystical, heavenly, the warmth on pillows, the slight breeze on a sunset, the pinkish purple sky, the stars in the galaxy, the feeling when u actually understand math

↳ user7 thank you for putting my feelings into words

↳ user8 STAND 🫵 UP 🫵 OMG 🫵

user9 need to run my fingers through his hair

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logansargeantupdates

liked by yourusername, user7 and 15,268 others

logansargeantupdates Logan at the gym recently via @/yourusername

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user10 GOD BLESS AMERICA 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅💥💥💥

yourusername he sent me this and I had to share it with yall, it’d be a sin not to

↳ user11 this is why you are my favourite wag

↳ user12 thank you for feeding us 😪

user13 major frat boy vibes

yourusername roses are red (usually) and violets are always blue… I want to have his babies

↳ user14 that don’t even- you know what nvm 😭

↳ user15 straight to the point, love that

user16 HIS ARMS!!

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logansargeant

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 90,863 others

logansargeant Tricky day, things are heating up tomorrow

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user17 He’s the American George Russell, always shirtless

↳ user17 I’m not complaining btw 😉

user18 Bro, do me a solid and please delete. My wife is on this app, I can’t let her see this.

yourusername things will be heating up between us tonight

↳ logansargeant good

↳ alex_albon get a room

user19 WTF IS A SHIRT 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅💥💥💥

yourusername can I lick your abs?

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bonus: Oscar disapproves

[jinxvex]

Hiiiii! I love your work! Do you think you could do Vi x reader hcs where the reader is like very day-dreamy? Like head stuck in the clouds a lot? Tysm <33

♱ gf!vi x daydreamy gf!reader ♱

hey!! so excited to put something out 4 violet!!

you could interpret this as a modern!au or arcane!u 😌

cw: sfw & nsfw, dom!vi + sub!r, wholesome at the beginning, vi is an amazing and understanding gf, vi is v flirty, teasing, dirty talk, mild choking/slapping, possessiveness, dumbification, degradation/praise, vi's a bit condescending, etc!!

+ strap usage, she eats you out + uses her fingers!!

♱ vi LOVES the fact that you’re so daydreamy and always in your own world. she appreciates your uniqueness + the way your mind works!

♱ vi thinks you’re so adorable when you slowly trail off in the middle of speaking to her—the vibrant imagery, thoughts, and inner workings of your mind too overwhelming for you to handle! she lets you look off into the distance for a bit before you’re quickly scrambling to apologize for getting lost in your own head (again lol)!!

♱ she’s quick to shut down your apology with a, “nah, babe it‘s okay. take your time, yeah?” + “you in your own head again, huh?” (EVERY SINGLE TIME!)

♱ after boxing/the gym, she often comes home to your shared apartment to you blasting music through your headphones. you’re bopping your head and bouncing your leg at your desk. lost in how the music speaks to you and flows through your veins like a constant electric current. you don’t hear or even notice her until she comes up behind you, wraps her arms around your shoulders, and nuzzles her head into your neck, “whatcha doin’, pretty? what’re you listening to?” + “love comin’ home to you all happy and shit—makes my day sweetheart.”

♱ in public, when you’re walking together, holding hands, and enjoying each other's company in silence, you can’t help but get in your head! your brain buzzing with thoughts about how nice vi’s hand feels in yours and how nice they feel in… other places… all of a sudden, you’re not paying attention to where you’re going and she gets a little stern with you. before you run into anyone or anything she’s telling you to, “watch where you’re goin’, hmm?” + “careful, babe. don’t want you gettin’ hurt now, do we?”

♱ when you're upset, whether it be because you're self-conscious about something or having other negative thoughts, you get sort of locked in your own mind--endless flashes of darkness encompassing your headspace. when this happens she's whispering comforting praises into your ear, "it's okay, princess. 'm here. not goin' anywhere." and she's pulling you into her chest to tell you to, "listen to my heartbeat, come back to me." + "hey. hey, look at me, baby."

♱ vi nudges your cheek with her fingers to get your attention when your attention has strayed away from her, "talkin' to you, babe."

♱ she totally notices when you’re fantasizing about her.

WHAT!! who said that?! 🤭

nsfw incoming...

♱ you and vi love to partake in your separate hobbies while in each other’s presence so when she’s cooking, writing, or boxing in the corner(?), you’re almost always on the other side of the room reading a book. she knows the books you read get a little dirty. when she glances at you from across the room she isn’t surprised to see you staring off into the distance (again) with your book loosely resting in your lap. you’re biting your lip and pressing your thighs together. she smirks knowingly and stops what she’s doing to walk over to you, “what’s got you thinkin’, baby?” + “wanna show me what’s got you so worked up?”

♱ she won’t stop teasing you until you’re reading her the sentence that threw you in for a loop—thinking of her hands and mouth pleasuring you. images of her muscles rippling against your skin as she fucks you into the mattress with her strap momentarily stunning you.

♱ your daydream does become a reality when she's doing just that. minutes later. she's forcing you to make eye contact with her, to give her your full attention and focus when she has you in missionary with your legs propped up on her shoulders. her pace is brutal, plunging her strap deep into your cunt with her hand wrapped around your neck; choking you and holding your head in place so you can't look away.

♱ she's a sucker for dirty talk so you know she's all up in your ear like: "fuck, baby. yeahhh, yeah. look at me when you take this dick, pretty girl." + "don't want you goin' off in your own head when i'm fucking you, need you to see exactlyy how i'm treating this fuckin' pussy."

♱ she will NOT let you cum until she knows for sure that you aren't thinking of anything except for her—she wants your brain to be mush by the time she's done with you. she wants you to let go, fall, and trust that she'll catch you. take care of you.

♱ she's not afraid to rough you up a little if you aren't listening. she'd tap your cheek and tighten her grip on your throat as she stuffs you even fuller; as deep as she can go, "*thrust* look. *thrust* at. *thrust* me." she's drilling you now, "c'mon, babe, can't you follow a simple direction? or are you too cockdrunk to function?" + "yep, thaaat's it, baby."

♱ vi also enjoys eating you out from the back while she shoves her middle and ring finger into your sopping wet cunt. as she eats you out like it's her last meal on earth, tongue zigzagging and sloppily mouthing at your heat, her fingers are curling up against your g-spot. she knows your brain thinks nothing but her because of every whimper, moan, and chant. "yes, yes, fuck yes! right thereee, vi. fuuuck" you're practically screaming at the top of your lungs. not long after she's pulling her mouth off of you and rising up to lean over your back and dig her fingers deeper inside, "there, huh? that's what she needs, isn't it? pussy's swallowing my fingers whole. greedy girl."

feel free to send more reqs about vi!! love her real bad 🤠

[r0-boat]

He actually did it...

Whb!Asmodeus x Gn!Reader

Cw: dubcon ,Asmodeus calling himself your husband, He is a little delusional right now, Regardless of readers gender a lot of breeding and pregnancy talk so beware, primal, Not omegaverse but some terminology

Happy Destroy Dick December here's some Asmodeus appetizer for your main course of Lucifer later

Ayo!!! And Thank you too @da-shrimping-station for giving me permission to use your OC Azaruuth as a cameo!!

"Darling, when there's something I want I do everything in my power to obtain it." His words echo in your mind as you see the results of the no nut November challenge, Your eyes white and as they displayed his picture on the screen of the pub and Gehenna. Every other devil in that bar was just a shocked as you.

The only winner of The 'King only competition of No nut November' was Asmodeus, The devil of Lust, The man who couldn't keep his hand out of his pants for more than a half a second; won.... Your heart sank as the reality of your situation began to sink in.

A shiver runs down your spine as you realize that a few devils are staring at you—some with a look of horror, others with worry.

You knew why, you were the prize after all...

Whoever wins this challenge will have you for the entirety of December. You would be entirely unavailable for other kings. (Except for emergencies, of course) No interruptions. You would have to stay put by their side, and you would do anything they wish.

Your heart pounded as Sitri and Amy safely escorted you to Abbaddon. Satan could not attend as he was so angry he was destroying half the castle.

Sitri and Amy are trying to talk you down from going along with being the prize, telling you that it wasn't too late... too focused on the possibility of what the king of lust could do to you for a month straight. But rules were rules, and you were the one who made the contest begin. You couldn't back out just because you didn't like the winner.

Once they reached the gates of the Abbaddon Palace, one Red Prison guard stood tall, his back straight, his chin up, radiating pure discipline. What really stood out to you was his one horn, which had two tones of pink matching each color of his mismatched eye. His mouth curved into a gentle smile as those eyes gazed upon you, but that smile quickly died when he saw the two Gehenna devils standing protectively at your side.

"I'll take them from here. Your duty is done." He spoke in a polite yet cold tone. Amy and Sitri get their teeth, But they know that it is best to turn back going any further would Go against the rules, as from this moment on, you are in Abbaddon's care. They didn't even get a chance to say goodbye as the guard tucked their hair behind their ear, fixing certain parts of their shirts. "His Majesty has been waiting for you for quite a while." His seductive person shivers down your spine as he reaches his gloved hand into his pocket with only his eyes, he motions for you to reach your hand out, placing a red key into your palm.

You're not sure how you knew what he wanted.

"Follow me, dear Descendant." You gave them one last look before the palace doors begin to slowly close behind you. You smiled and wave hoping it would ease Amy and Sitri's worries.

As the disciplined guard devil guided you through the halls of the palace, the ponytail of his dark violet hair swaying from side to side. The silence and tension were killing you. You want it to speak up and make some light conversation. But every last word trying to come out of your mouth was choked by the radiating authority from this devil. You've never met him before, but you've heard that he was relatively high-ranking, Not an advisor... But very high ranking. From the way he was dressed, it was obvious what his duty was in Abbaddon.

As Asmodeus's room gets closer you finally did manage to speak up.

"Um, how has Asmo been? I-I haven't seen him since Halloween?" His head was slightly parked up, and he looked back at you. His intense eyes softened again, and he exhaled, giving you a polite yet knowing smile. "You'll see. Don't be impatient."

You couldn't help as your cheeks flushed red from the little scolding you got.

When you see the door to his room, you notice more guards, a blue-shining pentagram glowing and pulsating on the large red doors, and foreign infernal lettering flickering all around the circle. It was like they were keeping their own king prisoner.

He stopped 6 feet away from the door, letting a curious you wonder ahead of him.

"This is as far as I could go. Be good; do as you're told, and his majesty lies beyond the door. Angels and Demons cannot enter or leave... As a human, you are free to open. I think you will quite like what his majesty has prepared for you on the other side." He smiled at you as you turned around to face him. He gets closer again, this time checking the top of your head, brushing away invisible dust or lint. He couldn't help himself sneaking a little kiss on your forehead before turning around and taking his leave. You felt a little bit of heat as your cheeks were dusted pink, raising your hand too brush your fingertips against the area his lips touched.

You brush aside the devil's affection turning back to the door You pulled out the red key preparing to try to find its lock before one of the devils spoke up. "It doesn't doesn't lock Just open it." He said with a cheery smile.

An "oh..." Escaped your lips. "Thank you." You responded with an embarrassed look. You open the door to Asmodeus's private Chambers to a dark room.

The door shuts behind you before another enchantment glows this time a red color on your side, It's magical glow gives you the faintest amount of light for your eyes to adjust to. Your heart was thumping in your chest as if you were in a horror movie as you step forward here the wrestling of metal as you finally hear of familiar voice.

"come closer~" instead of his normal sly seductive tone It was more of a breathy sultry as he almost beckins you further into the dark.

Your hand was shaky as you reach into your back pocket to pull out your phone turning on the flashlight as you take a step forward, and then another until your camera flash finally make something out of the darkness. A red chain attaching itself to the floor It was loose coiled in a pile as if it hadn't been disturbed for a while You followed that chain until you reached its owner.

Asmodeus, bound by several chains, red chains looking like it was made of crystal or ruby with more angelic-looking bindings keeping his arms and legs secured to him, but what stood out to you was the muzzle on his face, the wild look on his eyes, and the chastity belt that you've only seen angels wear, locked snug around him.

They really did kept him prisoner. It was so... Surreal to see hell's crippling narcissist locked up like one of the many people he kept in his prison. But this is probably what he had to do to win, keeping his arms bound to his back and his cock locked so he could never touch himself...

He'd been like this for a month.

And you never knew...

His slit pupils dilated three times their size when he saw you walk closer. He didn't even hide the fact he was drooling for you, saliva dripping from his chin past his muzzle and down to the floor as he tried to close the gap between you and him, only to be stopped by rattling chains. He snarls, hissing in frustration as you stop right in front of him, getting on your knees to eye level.

"You know what to do darling, Open me up and take your prize."

You couldn't say no or disobey since Asmodeus won the contest. The key sat on your palm. A devil king struggling against iron chains, trying all his might to break free to get to you, is doing something to your body, and Asmo was hyper-aware. His last shred of self-restraint, if he had any to begin with, one by one, began to erode. "You smell so good... It's so tight... Want to be inside you.."He thrusts his hips up when your hands draw near his crotch, the key fitting into the lock of the chastity belt.

He tilted his head back. His shaky exhale made it clear how good it felt to finally be free as his cock bobbed and twitched wildly.

"Touch me, touch me, touch me, touch me, touch me!" His desperate pleas to go straight to your lines as each word becomes less of a request and more of a demand. Part of you wanted to ignore him and just unlock the rest of his bindings, but seeing the mighty king of lust beg for your touch was so rare you had to at least indulge in his request. Asmodeus tried to lean against you pulling as far as the chains could allow him wanting to bury his nose into your shoulder only to feel the cold steel of the muzzle separating the two of you.

His naked body pressed flesh against Your shirt and pants, how he longed to feel your bare skin against his But at this moment, he was not complaining, especially when he felt relief on his cock for the first time in weeks.

You are such a good pet, remembering exactly how he liked it, especially when all he can think about is breeding the first hole in front of him right now.

You kept your rhythm nice and slow despite only barely touching him. His cock was drenched with precum, His balls squeezing and twitching as his cock tried to bob in your hand. With the key in your other hand, you unlock the final two chains, locking his wrists and neck as soon as the trainer on his neck clatters to the floor. You felt a hunger so feral as his hands reached for your wrists, pinning you to the floor at a blinding speed.

Asmodeus straddles you onto the floor, the entire room filled with his aphrodisiac pheromones, sweet and addicting, now so powerful you could no longer ignore it. You couldn't control your hips wiggling in place as he grinds his hips down against you. His wet cock drooled onto your pants.

He nuzzles, or at least tries to nuzzle, into your neck, feeling the cold bars press against him instead of your warm skin. Now that his hands are free, an animalistic snarl rips through his throat. He wasted no time putting two hands on both sides of the muzzle, his chest heaving as he tore the metal and leather apart in one pull.

"mine now...wanna taste you." A long in human tongue slithers out of his mouth licking his lips as he lowers his head.

With his claws and teeth He tears apart any piece of clothing in his way. You knew Asmodeus was a little unhinged before but now he was practically a snarling beast. As much as you are terrified you were incredibly turned on right now.

His intense gaze finally softened when his eyes laid upon your naked body. "Mmh~there you are, Your husband missed you~!"

With nothing else separating you between His heavy cock and and you're very eager dripping hole to your surprise He doesn't stretch you out and fuck you against the ground, instead he mashes his body against you as tight as he could lifting your hips up to grind himself against you. You felt his hot breath against your ear as he mumbled more to himself than to you "Pretty mate, want them to smell like me..."

His tongue dragging up your collarbone before burying his nose in the crook of your neck and inhaling your natural scent. Your head was spinning as your body felt hot and sensitive. Bucking your hips up to grind back against him Your breaths just as feverish is his.

His teeth grazed and nipped your skin as he presses his hips harder into you. Using His precum and your juices mixing together as he ruts his hips against yours.

"Mine!" Asmodeus growls out.

He thrusts his hips the head of his cock catching against your entrance making your back arch.

"Mine!" He growls out again .

His eyes glazed over as a hand slips between your legs preparing his cock to enter you.

"Gonna fuck you full." He muttered into your shoulder. When he slammed fully inside you, starting at a brutal pace, keeping your body pinned underneath him as he mindlessly fucked you're squeezing walls as if he needed it to survive.

Asmodeus couldn't stop his hips from moving even when he tries to manhandled you onto your stomach before taking you from behind. You felt this hot breath against the back of your neck occasionally; his teeth and tongue would taste your skin. Your legs were shaking trying to ground yourself as much as you could pushing back into him, No matter how hard you try you couldn't keep up with him as he used your body like a fuck toy.

You didn't know what to focus on the sweet scent of the aphrodisiac swirling on the room, the hard and fast slaps of his hips meeting yours, or the heavy breaths and loud moans and whimpers coming from the devil mounting you. Even with his lust drunken state, and his uncalculated animalistic thrusts. You are already close your legs shaking as your walls clamp down and milk him.

"Mate!Mate!Mate!Cumming!Cumming! Hhfa-AAAAH" His growls slur before letting out a loud whail despite orgasming the hardest heve ever done in his immortal Life He still kept his pace fucking his cum deeper.

"So good! So good! Saving up so much .for you! Hmm~All for you! I good male for you, Make sure mate...hah~ full of pups." He rambles his tongue out and panting, His eyes fully glazed over.

You've never heard him speak like this before. If it weren't for the fact that you are being fucked by the rabid beast himself, you would attempt to snap him out of it, You're not sure if you're scared or extremely horny, at the mere fact that you've broken him.

[talesof-old]

handle it | a.s., h.l.r., g.c.

pairing(s): poly!batboys x fem!eader

warning(s): 18+, smut, couples arguing, teasing, piv sex, handjobs (f receiving), oral (m receiving), reader has a vagina and is referred to by her/she, reader is called pretty girl, men being annoying and protective/possessive, if you squint there’s wing play, i did not proofread or edit because for some reason this put me in a slump, i think that’s all

word count: 1.7k

a/n: sorry this took me so long i was strugglinggg so it does end kind of abruptly

masterlist

poly!batboys + smut, angst + happy ending

“For the last time, you will not tell me I can’t go.”

Azriel barked a hoarse, humorless laugh, his eyes cold as he looked down at you. Gone were the days of training at Windhaven, children playing war as the world fell apart. No, now Rhys was High Lord, and you were a long way from the mountains you once called home.

“I’m in charge of this mission. What I say goes. And you are not going.”

Throwing your arms up in exasperation, you catch a glimpse of Cassian’s amused expression and Rhysand’s impassive face. They knew better than to get between the two of you. Azriel’s barely contained rage that settled just beneath his skin could burn hot at any given moment, and you were a formidable opponent that even your battle seasoned superiors knew better than to rile.

“You’re staying here.”

You whirled around, face nearly coming into contact with Azriel’s hard chest. Your wings flared.

“Rhys has the final say. I’m going.”

Violet eyes flickered between the two of you, one side of his lips quirking up in a smirk as Rhys shrugged. Anger flared in your chest. There was no reason for him not to side with you. You’d proven yourself over and over again, earned your place just as much as they had. It wasn’t fair.

“Rhys, I swear on the Mother-“ Rhys shook his head, silencing Azriel as he moved. Cassian followed after him, both quick to leave you two alone.

“Figure this out between you. We’re not getting involved.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched as the door shut behind them; the silence that followed was deafening. His shadows darted out and away from him, only to return to curl around his body like they couldn’t decide whether to comfort you or their master. It would’ve been comical, really, if Azriel’s sharp eyes weren’t burning holes into your forehead. You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Azriel didn’t say a word as you walked out the room.

Dinner was not a pleasant affair. Mor picked up on the tension between the shadowsinger and you with a simple glance, and it seemed to only agitate you further. Territorial fae bastards, the lot of them.

“We still set for that shopping trip on Saturday?” Mor’s honey voice filled your ears and you allowed yourself to smile. At the end of the table, Azriel sat stiff as a board, barely touching the food on his plate.

“Of course, I still need something for Dawn’s ball.”

She nodded, sipping her wine as she contemplated. You raised a brow. There was something mischievous in her eyes as she spoke next.

“I hear Caius was asking after you.” Shadows exploded across the room, darting out to weave through your hair and urge you towards their source. You narrowed your eyes at Mor who simply threw her head back and laughed. Amren scoffed over her glass.

“Az.” At Rhys’ firm tone, the shadows were reeled back in, and light filled the room once more.

“We’re leaving. I’ll keep you both updated.” A warm hand clasped yours and then all of a sudden you were in Rhys’ bedroom, perched on the edge of his bed. You turned to the partner in question.

What the fuck?

Rhys chuckled in your mind.

I thought you two would’ve sorted this out.

You rolled your eyes at that, turning to flop onto the bed, wings draped over your body. Rhys rested a hand on your lower back, shivers crawling up your spine as he massaged your tailbone.

He’s a possessive prick.

Rhys laughed out loud this time, trailing his hand over your backside. You preened under his touch, twisting to stretch out like a cat and smiling over at him softly. A grunt sounded from behind you. Rhys glanced over, sending an image to you.

Cassian and Azriel (the former having already removed half of his clothes), lip locked and tugging hard at each other’s bodies. Heat pooled in between your thighs and you turned to raise a brow at your companion. He smirked. In a blink, he was hovering over your body, chest pressed against your left side. You tilted your head upwards, pressing your lips against his. He moved slowly, pressing you down as he swiped a tongue over your lips. Rhys’ palm moved to cup your arse, rubbing your clothed cunt against the bulge in his pants. You sighed as you melted into his touch.

A broken moan drew you away from your High Lord.

You turned your head, pupils blown wide with lust as Cassian manhandled Azriel, tugging at his short hair and biting the exposed skin of his neck. Rhys laid back, hauling you up to rest on top of him. He helped you straddle him.

Someone hit the wall behind you, choking on a groan. You grinned as Rhys pulled you into him, licking a stripe up your throat.

“You’re both fully capable of resolving your issues, hm? Isn’t that what you said the last time?” You let out a long suffering sigh and gripped Rhysand’s hair.

“Don’t be a dick.”

He trailed light fingers up your sides, the sensation dulled by the fabrics covering your skin. Teasing touches turned rough as you rolled your hips. You smiled sweetly.

Behind you, the bed dipped as your two lovers joined you.

Cassian’s rough hands gripped your hips, careful of the wings you now arched high. Azriel settled against the pillows next to Rhysand, watching you with half-lidded, dark eyes. You maintained eye contact with the shadowsinger, grabbing Cassian’s hand and slipping it into your loose fitted pants. He cupped your mound, urging you to grind against his palm. You did so, head falling back as the roughness of his skin dragged against your lips and clit. He let you use him, your chest heaving as you rode yourself to climax. Your legs shook, upheld only by Rhys’ hands.

Rhysand took to leaning forward and nipping at the skin of your sensitive neck. He grinned as you keened, cunt clenching onto nothing as you tumbled over the edge. You fell against Cassian as your blood rushed through your ears. He chuckled, ignoring the way you jolted when your wings made contact with his frame.

Your body trembled following your orgasm, blissfully warm but not entirely relaxed. Azriel grunted as Rhys cupped his bulge. Your eyes flashed to his, annoyance still eating at your gut.

“Come on, pretty girl. Don’t be like that.” Cassian mouthed at the juncture of your neck and shoulders, sucking hard. You moaned softly, writhing against him as he massaged your breasts.

“Lovely, isn’t she?” Rhysand’s low voice sounded from beside Azriel. He huffed, abdomen muscles tense as the High Lord slipped a hand into his trousers. He pumped his cock, running a gentle hand over his slit and laughing when he hissed.

“You managed to piss her off pretty bad. Wonder what you’ll have to do to make it up.” Heat rushed to Azriel’s face. You watched with rapt attention, eyelashes fluttering as Cassian stripped you of your top to expose your breasts. You shivered at the sudden chill.

“Will she let you touch her?”

Azriel clenched his hands into fists, all but tucking them underneath his thighs. You giggled. Looks like he wanted to be tested tonight.

“Rhys.” You purred.

He whipped his head towards you at the sound of your voice, his name dripping with lust. You wriggled your ass against Cassian’s dick and tugged on Rhysand’s shirt.

He was on you in an instant, mouth hot against yours as Cassian pulled down your trousers and underwear. He was quick to line himself up your cunt and slowly sink in, leaning forward to press kisses to your upper back as you moaned. Rhys swallowed the sounds all too willingly.

As Cassian bottomed out, Rhys tugged down his own pants, situating himself right by your mouth. You lowered yourself onto your elbows, a soft whine leaving you as the angle changed how deep Cassian was within you. Rhysand grabbed a handful of your hair and guided your mouth to his cock. He grunted when your lips wrapped around the reddening skin.

Cassian pulled half-way out of you, giving an experimental thrust. Your eyes fluttered shut. He was slow with it, setting a lazy pace to keep you from climaxing too soon. You shivered as one of his hands grazed the inner part of your wings. Molten heat burned between your hips.

With a practiced tongue and a few well timed sucks, Rhys was pulsing in your mouth, balls drawn tight. His head was thrown back, moans tumbling from his lips in a way that would’ve had you grinning. Cassian kept his sensual pace.

You hollowed out your cheeks, gagging as Rhysand’s cock hit the back of your throat. He choked on a moan, halfway through cooing at the tears on your cheeks when his orgasm tore through him. He shook; beside him, Azriel trembled with need.

You swallowed his cum greedily, humming. Rhys jerked. You pulled off of him with a pop, grinning like a madman.

“Wicked thing.”

You shrugged, arching your back to meet Cassian’s thrusts. One of his large hands splayed across the bottom of your curved spine, the other coming around your waist to toy with your clit. You spasmed against him.

A low chuckle sounded through the room.

“Be careful tonight, we’ve all got a mission tomorrow.” Even in the midst of your pleasure, your head jerked towards Azriel. He wore an expression half resigned, half lustful. You reached for him with one hand, balancing on your right, fingers trembling. A moment ticked by. He moved, graceful as a panther, and tugged you to him. Cassian groaned as you involuntarily clenched around him. He pulled out of you, letting you splay across the shadowsinger’s front.

“You’re really giving in?”

Azriel’s sigh was answer enough, but he responded with a simple, “Yes.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his chin. The ache between your thighs was desperate for attention, however, so you moved to straddle his hips.

Much to the displeasure of your two other lovers, the words “You’re mine for the rest of the night,” were what left your mouth. Azriel leaned back.

“Show me you can handle it.”

+++

[satorusugurugurl]

Taste Me When He’s Kissing You

Summary: When Your roommate seemingly break up for a time, one of them decides to make a move.

Characters: Geto Suguru, AFAB!Reader, Gojo Satoru

Warnings: language, oral sex, making out (mxm), minions of threesomes, it’s hot!

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: Hi thank you all for your patience! My life has been so crazy the last few days! Lots of deliveries at the house lots of work at my job, I'm working on several different stories right now just trying to get them out in between not losing my mind! This is highly inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s Taste!

Geto Suguru and his boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, were constantly on and off. As their roommate, you got to experience this firsthand. So, of course, when Gojo stormed out, slamming the door and telling Geto they were done, you watched curiously from the kitchen. Suguru sighed, dark hair falling over his shoulder as he pressed his forehead against the front door.

“Mm—“ you hummed, taking a bite of pineapple off your fork. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Heh, I guess you could say that.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he leaned over the counter opposite you, watching you take another bite of pineapple. “He said we should see other people.”

Suguru watched closely as your pretty tongue darted out past your lips to lick at the sweet juice coating them. “And how do you feel about that?” Your words were brushed aside as Suguru reached for the container, grabbing a chunk of the citrusy fruit. “Oi! That’s mine!” You scolded as you pulled your bowl away, pouting as you did.

“Oh ya’ know, Satoru will be back.” he licked his lips, eyes on yours. “But you know what else he said before he left?”

You snatched the pineapple back out of his hands. “What?” You honestly didn’t care what he had said.

“That he was going to ask you out.”

You inhaled sharply before going into a coughing fit. The Vitamin C stung your sinuses’ and the back of your throat as you harshly coughed into your hand with tears stinging your eyes. Gojo Satoru wanted to ask you out?! What that fuck?!

“L-Liar!” You shouted in between coughs. “You’re such a liar!”

“Nope, that’s the truth.” Suguru leaned over the counter closer to you. “But do you wanna know what I told him?”

This time, you avoided the pineapple altogether as you hummed. “What?” You took a deep breath before clearing your throat, waiting for him to continue.

“I told him, ‘Not if I beat you first’.”

You started to laugh, ready to call him out for the blatant lie. But as the sound began to rise in your chest, he reached across the counter and slammed his lips against yours. The sudden kiss, hands jerking slightly in his grasp, but the initial shock wore off, and you found yourself slowly sinking into the kiss. With a whimper, your hands reached up, resting against his before he broke the kiss with a deep guttural growl that had your pussy throbbing.

He hummed violet eyes, searching yours before focusing back on the pineapple. “Let’s put an old wise tale to the test, shall we?” Before you could even ask what he was talking about, he dragged you to the room.

Nothing could have prepared you for what was going to happen next.

You were coated in a thin layer of wear; your panties and sweats were still hooked around your ankle as your legs trembled. Suguru’s face was buried directly between your thighs, and his tongue was slowly running up and down over your lot. The tip is darting out teasing flicks towards your clit. The torturous licks were practically unavoidable, with Suguru’s large hands gripping your hips as tight as he could without hurting you, preventing you from always pulling from his skilled mouth.

You writhed against the sheets, crying out softly as he moaned against your sex, his pretty lavender eyes flicking towards your face as your breathing hitched. You were already close to cumming for the third time since he had settled between your thighs, and fucking hell, he wanted every drop you had to offer for him. So he continued his ministrations, eyes lingering on yours as he hummed, causing vibrations to tickle the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your toes curled inside your fuzzy socks while your fingers fisted into the sheets beneath you.

“Ohh fuck!” You cried out, chest heaving as your breast bounced ever so slightly under your shaky jerks. “Holy shit! S-Sugu! Sugu!” He hummed, digging his fingers harder into your sides while he slowly rolled his hips against the mattress. Grinding his hardened cock against the crisp material, longing to be buried inside of you.

“Mmmnm~” he whispered, eyes narrowing, “That’s it, be a good Princess and cum all over my tongue.” His voice was so deep and was over-saturated with lust, dripping to the point you could feel his desire in every caress of his skin against yours. “Cum for me, baby~ cum~ pretty girl.”

“I-I—!!” The warning failed before it even began. “Nngh!!” You screamed, not giving a fuck about your neighbors or who might be listening in. All that you could focus on was the way Suguru wrapped those soft lips around your clit.

Stars and the universe and the cosmos flashed before your eyes as your orgasm hit you like the meteor that took out the dinosaurs. You screamed and squirmed, thrashing your head side to side as the waves of pleasure rolled through every nerve in your entire body. Not once did Suguru let up. He kept licking and sucking at your sensitive pussy until you were practically yanking his head away from your aching, throbbing sex.

“H-Hold on a second!” You begged as he tried dipping his head back between your thighs for the fourth time. “Easy! Fuck, easy there, Sugu!”

“Can’t help it~ you taste so fucking sweet!” He snarled, dragging you back to his mouth. You brought both hands to his hair with a yelp, tangling it in his silky soft strands.

For just an instance, you were about to lose yourself in his touch and tongue again when the sound of someone clearing their throat filled the room. You automatically seized up, eyes wide in panic, clenching onto every muscle in your body. Suguru slowly licked his lips, turning his head to look over his shoulder at Satoru, leaning against the door frame, watching the scene unfold before him.

“Wow, talk about moving on fast.” His voice and words held no heat as his eyes opened up. You’re nearly naked form. “I guess I didn’t stand a chance against you, did I?”

“Nope.”

Suguru ducked his head back between your legs, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. “Oh fuck me!” You cried out, shutting your eyes tight, half an embarrassment while the other half was trying hard not to drown in the pleasure that was starting to build up in your abdomen again.

“Tsk—” the floorboards creek underweight as Satoru walks towards the edge of the bed, gently grabbing your chin and forcing your head to the side to look up at him. “I wanted to be the first one to taste you.” His eyes glance at his best friend and boyfriend, nestled firmly between your legs. “Just how do you intend to make it up to me? Seeing that he got to taste you first?”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry as your eyes narrowed as you looked up at the white-haired man. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to taste me when he’s kissing you.” You said with a specific tone of confidence you didn’t know even lingered within your body.

Both men froze at your words; Suguru lifted his head, his chin and lips glistening with your slick. Satoru’s momentary shock slowly shifted into a sultry smirk as he released his group on your chin, focusing his attention on the dark-haired man looking at him. Satoru was kneeling, crawling to the center of the bed where you and Suguru were. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed a handful of Suguru’s hair, yanking it at the base of his roots.

“Nnmh!” Suguru hissed out, his cheeks flushing a dusty rose color as his eyes glimmered with lust as Satoru brought him close to his mouth. “Satoru~” Suguru purred as the taller man closed the distance between them.

“You heard her; if I wanna taste~ I’m gonna have to kiss you.”

Without another word, his lips slammed against Suguru’s in a heated kiss. One that was full of biting and moaning. Moans that were so deep and full of passion it was nearly pornographic. Suguru didn’t miss a beat. His hands grabbed Satoru’s shirt closer while Satoru’s fingers ran through the strands of the dark hair.

Tongues move against tongues, and you press your thighs together at the site of the men making out in front of you. They didn’t hold back. They were like two horny, crazed animals longing for each other, longing to share the taste of you against their tongues. It had between your legs, rubbing at your slow, lazy circles as Suguru tugged Satoru’s shirt over his head, throwing it across the room before his lips were on his again.

It was so erotic. Your cunt throbbed in need as they broke, kissing heavily lips, swollen as they pressed their foreheads against each other. And lilac eyes burning holes through the other growled, gripping each other with a mighty need. It was almost as if they had forgotten that you were in the room with the whimper of pleasure that rose in your throat as you felt yourself getting close to the edge.

“Awe.” Satoru hummed, reaching down and grabbing your hand to prevent you from tipping over the edge. “Not so fast, honey. I need to taste you directly because you taste as sweet as the pineapple you’re always snacking on.” He dropped between your legs, his mouth following the path of bite marks and hickeys that Suguru had left in his wake earlier.

“Oh, my fuckin’ f—“ You cried out, leaning your head back to rest it against the pillows only to have your hair yanked back up. “Mmmhm!”

A thick throbbing cock was right in front of your face. It was leaking beats of pre-cum, making your mouth water. “Come on, Princess. You can taste me while he tastes you.” You bit down on your bottom lip before nodding your head, opening your mouth to take him in.

You weren’t sure if this was what they had initially planned on doing or if they had indeed broken up. But what mattered the most was that this would be the beginning of your very long and very happy relationship together.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918 @draculemon

[livelaughlovesubs]

~ 08.10 - Fyodor ~

Dom!abilityUser!reader x sub!Fyodor - reader is gender neutral

Warning: wrong use of ability, aphrodisiac, handjob, teasing, marking, biting, little manhandling, mind break, sub space (?), cum eating, finger sucking, dacryphilia, use of pet names like baby - darling, kinda manipulation (on both sides), hints of hierophilia

~ Word count: 5k ~

Nini!rant: did I repeat myself a lot during this fic? I hope not…

Kinktober list 2024

Your vision blurred. The smoke burned your eyes and lungs, and a rough and painful ache spread from your chest to your throat. It didn’t help that your consciousness was fading in and out, or that you felt like blanking out every time you closed your eyes. You coughed, repeatedly, enough for blood to drip down the corners of your lips. Its metallic taste was one of the very things still keeping you sane. Then you dropped to your knees, fingers clawing at the filthy floor, nails filled with dirt as everything around you got rendered to ashes.

The heat made you sweat, and even though you could feel a chilly sensation run down your spine, flickering lights and the crunch of wood burning filled your awareness. With the last bit of strength you had, you looked up, arms reaching out to your mentor. They were the one who raised you, and the one who were shrieking and burning on the ground.

“Ughh- guhh…!!” You tried to talk, to call out to them, yet your voice was hoarse. Only groans of pain alongside incoherent grumbles left your lips as a dark figure approached you. The person kneeled on one knee, using their hand to cover your dry eyes as they whispered, “This is the punishment for their crimes, their sins.” Before long, your vision turned black.

An infinite amount of time passed as you slumbered comfortably. It felt way more comforting than the harsh reality you've been exposed to. When you eventually woke up, you were still alive and breathing, there was also no pain anymore. The smoke subsided, the fire ceased and all the burning buildings disappeared, or were you simply somewhere else? How long has it been since you were knocked out? You sat up from where you were and tried to look around, that’s when you noticed the soft cushion beneath you. Someone brought you here, someone saved you-

“You are awake.” A pretty voice emerged from somewhere. You had a surprised expression on your face, though it almost immediately turned into an alert one the moment you saw whom the voice belonged to. “You- you are..! Urghh!” As soon as you raised your voice a little, you began coughing again, the pain also returned as if it was only playing a prank on you. “I’d advise you to not overuse your voice.” The male said, closing the distance between you two, and taking a seat opposite of you.

There was a large window behind him, where warm rays of sunlight gently illuminated the room. Some of the orange light shone upon his silky black hair, causing it to have a colorful glow. The sky was a mix of red and pink decorated with some elements of orange and yellow, all these shades faded and intertwined, creating a scenery worthy of the title 'perfect'. Based on that alone, it must be dawn right now. In your memory, it was in the middle of the night when that horrific accident happened. It means you’ve been knocked out for at least a day.

Now wasn’t the time to admire nature's beauty, you had more important things at hand, for example, the person in front of you. He has been reticent since he sat down, piercing through your skull with his violet eyes. It felt like he was trying to read your mind, this pressure was suffocating. “Fyodor Dostoyevsky.” You mumbled weakly, each word you uttered itched and hurt. This man was the one who burned your home, he’s the one who put your mentor to sleep. But why?

Many strong emotions filled you from the inside, about to make you explode. Though you couldn’t, now wasn’t the time. “Why… did you let me live?” You asked him, hoping to get to know what your value is in his eyes and the reason behind his actions. Was he planning on using you as a war trophy? “What did master do to you?!” Due to your lack of voice, you were whispering, yet the way you stressed your words showed your intentions, you were in despair, and pure confusion.

Instead of answering anything, he poured you and himself some tea, then gestured for you to drink. “It's a simple black tea with lemon and sugar, to soothe your throat," he explained as he reached for his cup, but you bested him to it. Out of concern and wariness, you took his cup instead of yours, not caring about politeness in the face of death. Fyodor didn't stop you, he pulled his hand back to let you have full access to his cup, then grabbed yours and took a sip.

Despite the absurdity of the situation, you were thankful for the beverage, its effects showed in less than a minute. Afterward, he got up to go over to you, he leaned forward to cup your cheeks, and his gesture was painfully gentle. It tugged at your heart, it stung and you felt tears prickling in the corners of your eyes, the loss of someone dear was still a fresh wound.

For some unknown reason, you couldn’t move, too overwhelmed to act, too speechless to push him away. The burning sensation returned, a small part of you wished you could go down with your instructor. “As for your question, it's because I only punish the sinners.” He showed you a look of pity, full of what seemed to be genuine empathy, brows furrowed as he cooed, “Your mentor, he… he has been torturing the innocent souls of this world, there was no other way.” The way he talked was peculiar, strangely foreign yet elegant.

When the news of your teacher being a cold-hearted murderer echoed through your mind, you felt your world crumbling for a moment. They would never do that- right? After all, if they were that ruthless, they wouldn’t have taken you in. You didn’t know where to look at. What if he was lying? Was your faith in your guardian so poorly that you’d believe false information this quickly? Yet you weren’t able to shake off that ominous feeling, that familiar sense of betrayal and doubt.

"I'm sure it came across as quite the shock, but I ask you to believe me." The male said, pulling out a stack of paper from under the desk, and slamming it onto the tea table. "Feel free to look through it, take as much time as you need. And, my condolences." A hint of bitterness laced his tone. Your heart was wavering now, torn between whether or not you should believe him. The way he acted seemed to be real, though it could also be that he was a fantastic actor. In the end, you decided to reach out to the proof he provided you, holding one of the papers as you scanned over it.

It was a detailed report doting down the various crimes your mentor apparently committed, you even realized some of the events, but in a different setting. "Is... is this for real..? Haha- I can't believe it, and, if that's so, I didn't find out all this time?" Your thoughts hung from your lips and showed on your expression, a part of your world was crumbling down on you.

A sense of guilt and dizzy disgust engulfed you, shaking you from the core, and making you question all the memories made with him and your very existence. Could you still call yourself innocent after aiding such a horrible person with such a nativity? Even though you were still lost in your own little space, he raised your chin up, to stare down at you. Your noses were almost touching with how close he was. And with how the light drew across his features, paired with the romantic nature of the atmosphere, you couldn’t stop an impulsive thought from occurring.

The short-lived idea of him being a saint, a divine sent to expose the truth and bring salvation— he has saved you, twice now. You blinked a few times, wondering how you could think of something like that, it was crazy. Your brain must be struggling to process all this information, which led to you having some insane ideas, that must be the case, surely.

The closeness was making you feel dizzy again, eyes staring right into his dark pupils. He was smiling at you, kindly so, though his eyes had nothing but emptiness behind them. Even someone great like him isn't perfect in the art of acting, the eyes are said to be windows to the soul after all. “Y/n.” Fyodor mumbled his voice tender as it wrapped around your heart like a seductive spell, making you feel grossed out by your body's perception of him.

“Focus on me.” The male reminded you, the corners of his lips going up a little. You resumed staring at him, feeling the mood change involuntarily. It’d be a lie to say he wasn’t pretty, and he appeared even more beautiful when he calmly suggested, “Y/n, why don’t you join the decay of angels. By doing so, you can pay for the sins of the deceased, and he'll eventually be able to rest in peace.” He wasn’t asking you, he was making a deal.

You didn't know why but something about him made you feel drawn to him, it made you want to peruse him. Whatever it was that caused you to feel this way, you didn’t want it, it was annoying how it kept clouding your judgment. The thought of joining the enemy group so soon without mourning for the departed didn’t seem correct.

But you couldn’t decline either.

All you could do was stay in your seat, a drop of sweat dripping down the sides of your face as you subconsciously admired him. This bubbling sensation spread to every fever of your being, and in the end, you nodded meekly. The smile on his face widened, and then he asked you, “Y/n, please tell me how your ability works.” Once again, he didn’t seek your opinion, only stating what you had to do. But he was also aware you were an ability user, which might tied into the reasons why he saved you.

With a little hesitation, you reached your hand out to stroke his hair, his didn’t pull back or flinch, as if he was used to it, and nudged into your warm palm. Without missing a beat, you whispered in the still rough voice, “It’s poisonous gas.” As soon as he heard that, he noticed a sweet smell coming from the direction of your hand and he shuddered. Eyes widened while the sickening grin didn’t leave his face, as if he was proud of your small victory against him.

Before he could open his mouth, you added, “It’s not a life-threatening one, don’t worry.” He didn’t look angry, only amused as he let go of you, lingering for a moment longer than necessary before pulling back, sneering almost confidently, “A sly one, aren’t you?” You gave him a bright smile in return, "and you're confident much."

After his touch departed from you, he could feel his body heating up, a strange rush of need engulfing him, eating away at him from the inside. He blamed it on the poison, and he wasn’t wrong. His mind searched for the kind of poison this might be, trying to match the symptoms before he got interrupted by you, or more specifically your hand which had been placed on his head, without him noticing, he must have been careless. You scratched his scalp as gently as he has been treating you. It didn’t look like you were caressing a person but rather a cat, crawling at his skin.

For some reason, his heartbeat went higher and his blood rushed to his head, a meek whine slipping past his rosy lips, “Hmm...” He was in disbelief at his own voice, baffled by how foreign it was. Hell, he didn't recognize himself, this was like a completely different person. “What did you do-” Fyodor's gaze shot up to you, he sensed something ominous.

Consequentially the hand on his head moved down and clasped over his mouth while your other one wrapped around his waist. Then you pulled him closer, getting up in the process and pressing him into the soft cushions. The warmth of your body heat still lingered on his skin, it felt strangely comforting. A heavy blush crept onto his features as he furrowed his brows, both of his hands now crawling at your wrist, trying to peel you off him.

Though he didn’t need to do that, since you were willing to let go by yourself. Alternatively, you were holding his slim waist with both hands now, fingers sinking into his flesh loving yet roughly. “Uh-hmm..!” This time, he placed his hands over yours, trying to signal you to stop. Whenever you pressed down on his hips, a tingly feeling would course through him and he’d shudder helplessly. Poor boy didn’t take it that well, head hanging forward while he gritted his teeth. His pitch-black hair framed his face, sliding past his shoulders and tickling you by brushing over your skin.

“Let go, y/n..” he voiced out those shaky words, letting his facade crumble. You got even closer, nose now in the crook of his neck as you took a deep breath. Then you whispered into his ears, “Thank you for saving me and telling me the— truth…” The last word became so quiet he was barely able to register it. After that, you stuck the tip of your tongue out to lick his earlobe, at the same time you drew circles on his hips with your thumbs.

“Hnngh.. w-what are you..?!” Fyodor winced again. Because you were basically pressing your upper body against his, he couldn’t help but lock his hands around your neck, holding onto you tightly as he pressed his chin against your shoulder. His eyes were half-lidded as more lewd sounds escaped him. At the same time, this weird emotion coursing through him kept making him feel all buzzy inside. Confusion was a word much too vague to explain the state he was in.

On the other hand, you thought the way he held onto you was cute, it was like a little kitten that didn’t want you to leave. “...So please let me repay you.” You uttered, finishing your sentence from before after a long break, then answered his questions, “You are currently under the effects of an aphrodisiac, I thought it might help me service you better.” That’s why he’s feeling this way, so hot and bothered. It was because of your ability.

“M-make it go away then…!” He groaned, glaring at you. You weren’t expecting him to engage in such unsightly acts now, were you? “I am doing that right now. Don’t worry, you’ll feel so good.” A somewhat sinister smile spread on your lips, and then you bit his ear. “UhmM..! No- what?" Fyodor shuddered, head spinning a little from all these foreign sensations. "Are there other ways?” This is bad, it was so pleasurable that it was maddening. His body has become so sensitive all due to the poison, that he was reacting to your every touch, every light brush of your skin against his.

“Begrudgingly, no. Since there’s no other way, try to enjoy it.” You explained, one hand moving to his collar and unbuttoning his shirt while your eager tongue trailed down from his ear to his neck, leaving behind a wet path. “Haaah… you- ughh!” He eventually gave in, squeezing his eyes shut as his body quivered. Now both hands were working on his clothes, but you did it slowly, teasingly slow. At the same time, you licked over his skin, occasionally sucking on a specific area. It didn’t take long until you found a spot he especially liked.

You knew by how he squirmed around, arms losing strength as they limped and fell back next to his body, a dark reddened spot forming where your lips last touched him. It was too much, this drug was making him go insane, he couldn’t think of anything but giving himself to you. “Please..” he begged unbeknownst to himself, feeling you prying his shirt open. Then your knee pressed against his tightly shut legs, trying to separate them and force your way between.

After you did, you grabbed his waist and adjusted his position a little. He didn’t show any resistance, only whimpering in silence as he let you manhandle him. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes from raw lust, the need for your touch made him so frustrated that he became impatient. “Hurry up.. take responsibility for the mess you made,” Fyodor demanded while wearing a needy expression, you didn't know he was such a touch-starved man. “If that’s what you want.” You smirked devilishly as you took a bite out of him, or rather, you left your teeth marks on his pale skin.

The marks were deep, sinking down on him, like a form of testimony for this shared intimacy. Many hickeys were placed around the bite marks, decorating his sickly-looking body with colors. “Cute,” you commented on his appearance, then moved your lips past his chest down to his belly button. Fyodor didn’t react to that silly compliment, thinking it must have been a slip of the tongue. He let out a shaky breath when he felt you rubbing your cheek against his smooth and soft skin. That single gasp soon turned into a series of huffed moans due to you teasing his nipples.

You used both hands to skilfully circle around the nuds, sometimes flicking them with the tip of your fingers, or nudging them lovingly. Small gestures like this were enough to make him turn his head to the side, cursing out this annoying poison. The more you played with him, the stronger his reactions became. When you got to rubbing his cute and hardened nipples, his thighs squeezed around your waist, subconsciously trying to hide something very inappropriate. But you noticed anyway. He got hard by having his chest played with, enough for him to leak through his pants.

“Fyodor, I didn’t know your nipples were this sensitive.” You gasped excitedly, acting more dramatic than needed. A small yet noticeable wet patch was on his pants, the sticky fluid seeping through the fabric. “It’s because, hah.. of the aphrodisiac.” The male argued, gazing up at you all hostile. “Mhm, sure sure.” Instead of letting it get to you, you continued what you were doing. Humming to yourself before questioning him, “Well, do you want me to touch you?” His eyes basically lit up at that question, drool on the verge of dripping down the corners of his mouth.

“Mhm…” his tone was meek as if he was deliberately hiding his excitement. Putting his pride aside for now, he nodded almost too eager for his liking, and proceeded to avoid your gaze again. Since you got his approval, you decided to take it a step slower, leaning back to take your time to admire him. To worship him. That’s when you noticed how slim he was. Maybe it was due to his hands that were buried in his sleeves, or his shirt that was slipping down his arms, no matter the reason, he looked so petite right now. He was not intimidating or scary at all, not like the demon he was rumored to be.

You’ve already noticed his rather weakly looking physique, but to think it was this apparent. He didn’t really have any toned muscles, nor did he have any colors on his face. To be honest he seemed fragile, like a porcelain doll. When you put your hands on his hips again, gently holding him up and making him arch his back, the only thought running through your head was how easily you could snap him in two, causing you to be even more gentle with him, way more than before. All to take care of this man who was like a saint sent from above.

“D-don’t tease.” Fyodor groaned, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. His arms were still holding your back, clinging to you. Seeing him so needy and defiled made you impatient as well, and you rubbed his bulge through his clothes. The dark patch grew in size, and some of the liquid stuck to your hand. “I-I said don’t tease.” He repeated his words, this time putting more emphasis on his tone, toes curling while he tried to close his legs, of course to no avail. “I doubt this is only the work of the aphrodisiac.” You commented, then pulled his pants down alongside his underwear, revealing his throbbing cock.

It was twitching around in an angry shade of red, leaking pre with no end in sight. “You look like you enjoy it so much, it's so lewd.” You commented, smiling satisfied. The boy glared at you, he didn’t seem to appreciate your commentary, sneering, "Don't let that imagination of yours run wild. It's all the work of your ability." Then he locked his legs around your waist before scoffing, “Just get on with it.” He held you close to him, so close you could hear his weak but fast heartbeats. It had a weird sense of calmness to it.

Ignoring the fact his voice trembled with every word, he was simply too adorable to take him seriously. “Of course, if you allow me the honor of corrupting you?” You asked sarcastically, and your snarky question was met with a fierce glare from him. “I’m not getting corrupted, I’m thriving out the pest inside my body. And may I remind you just whose fault it is?”

Following closely were the muffled laughs from you, hoping to not embarrass him. “Yes yes~ it’s all my fault, so I’m taking responsibility.” Then you wrapped your hand around his shaft, pumping his dick up and down. “HnggGhh! Ah- ahh.. wait, that’s so s-sudden..?!” He moaned loudly, unable to restrain his voice. Your other hand caressed his body, still placed on his waist and holding him up.

“Was I wrong when I speculated you wanted this to be over quickly?” You pressed your forehead against him, slowing down to rub his sensitive gland. More and more precum collected at the tip, dripping down his member, making lewd squelch sounds whenever you moved your fingers. “Haaah…” he squeezed his eyes shut, clawing at your back to balance out the growingly overwhelming sensations. Moaning into your ear, encouraging you with the sweetest melody known to mankind. “Huh? Yes.. you, you weren’t wrong. So hurry… please.”

Right now, you must be grinning so stupidly, totally captivated by him. You quickened your pace, hands gliding across his skin. It was very easy since he had been dripping so much, and you couldn’t stop yourself from making a comment about it, “You are so wet down there, Fyodor. Are you that excited?” He pinched your back, embarrassed by your words, “Don’t- nggGhh… make my body sound so perverted ♡.” Afterward, he continued to try and bite back his moans, but he failed miserably.

“Ah- hmmm..!! It’s too intense, y/n.” Pretty tears rolled down his cheeks as he mumbled as quietly as possible, his voice all breathy and broken. When you noticed these fresh tears climbing down his face, you leaned close to him and licked them away. His tears were salty, like any other human, and they were still warm when they reached your tongue. He sobbed meekly in response to your questionable course of action, his cries stiffening a little.

Why was he crying? Was it due to the embarrassment he felt, or the troubling feelings bubbling inside him? Or because he was too overwhelmed by his own emotions, by this growing heat that was on the verge of exploding? Nonetheless, he blamed it on the aphrodisiac, to shelter himself from the truth, to deny reality once more.

“It’s alright, it’s normal to feel this way.” You whispered against his smooth skin, only moving your lips minimally. With the hand that used to be on his waist, you wiped the tears from the other cheek, watching the water dry after a while, commenting with an adoring voice, “So beautiful.” He was stunned by how tender you were with him, it made his skin crawl and his heart tighten. It was noticeable by the way his blush seemed to intensify. His dick twitched against your hand, uncontrollably so, desperate for more friction and attention. “A-a bit more— I, hic, a little bit…” Fyodor said, unsure what he meant with little, but he knew he was close.

Your hand was all slippery with his juices, and you made sure that he knew every single detail. “Look at that, my hand’s all sticky and dirty now, thanks to you.” To demonstrate what you meant, you raised your hand and held it in front of him, waiting until he opened his eyes to have a look. “Ah..” he winced a little at the loss of pleasure, then buried himself into the nook of your neck, choking out a muffled sentence, “I-I don’t want to see that.. just- make this heat stop… it h-hurts ♡.”

When he did that, you felt your own heart skip a beat, and you cooed at him, “Aah.. right, yes, my bad. You are just too cute.” He held his breath, and only exhaled when he felt your finger wrap around his weeping cock. You kissed his hair, wrapping one arm around his head and playing with the hair on the other side, stroking and caressing it. “So very cute.”

Fyodor seemed to have a rather hard time registering the fact these compliments were meant for him, and not just for the heat of the moment. He stayed quiet, except for the occasional whine that’d escape him when you drag your hand up and down his twitching dick. Then you raised the speed of your hands again, now trying to bring him over the edge. His nails dug into your flesh when he noticed a knot forming in his stomach, toes curling while he gritted his teeth. Your touch was simply heavenly, there was no better way for him to describe it.

"Arghh, y/n..? D-don't stop, don't you dare- i- nghh!!" The male threatened though he wasn't able to finish his sentence without his moans interrupting him. "Hmm~? Why can't I stop?" You teased him, despite knowing the reason very well. Your hand pumped him fast and steadily, slowly down only to take extra care of his tip. He inhaled sharply, opening his mouth to speak but ending up biting your shoulder with a messy expression. "Mfmmhh..! HnnGh~"

A shiver ran down your spine, you could barely stop yourself from grinning as you asked again, "Is something the matter, Fyodor?" If only he wasn't so messed up right now, he'd be seething with anger. Because right now, no matter what expression he pulled, he looked like a ravished and whithering animal. Wet and dried tears continued spilling from his swollen eyes, his entire upper body was covered in marks like a cherry blossom, and his skin glistened with sweat and a heavy blush.

Now moving down to his lower body, which looked like something straight out of a sinful magazine, he was so wet and sticky that he felt ashamed. To be this aroused from nothing but a simple handjob as well, it was a huge hit to his ego. Fyodor took a few moments to collect himself, and once he did, he mumbled almost inaudibly, "It feels too good.. m' gonna cum.." That was the moment you absolutely lost it, you were so infatuated with him it was worse than hypnotise.

Quickening your pace once more, you chuckled happily, "It's alright baby, cum for me, spurt it alll over my hand ♡♥︎" the sudden rise in intensity and pleasure caught him off guard, so badly that he scratched your back, screaming in ecstasy, "aaHhHGgg! W-wait, s-stop~!! It's- it's too muucHhhh! ♡♡ cumming, cumiiinnnng, pull away, it's dirty~ ♥︎♡" The boy looked like he was going crazy from all this bliss, head thrown back while his pupils turned heart-shaped.

He was mewling, drooling, and shaking from his core, brain way too mushy to think, to see if what he was babbling even made sense. Never would you have thought you could turn such a composed and fine man into this dumb little thing, addicted to the sin of the flesh. You kept moving your hand to help him come down from his high, lips pressed against the shell of his ear, "Shhh, it's alright darling, it's okay. It doesn't hurt, right? So it's okay, defile my hand like how I defiled you."

A few minutes passed in silence. You gave him enough time to get used to the feeling and cope with the reality. In the meantime, your hand departed from him, your fingers were all slick with his body fluid, and a pool of thick semen collected on your palm. While you were wondering what to do with it, his breathing was ragged and heavy, looks like he was still not used to all of this. You reached for some tissues from the table, wanting to clear up this mess if not for him to suddenly grab your wrist, bringing your finger to his lips and sucking on them feverishly.

He lapped up all the fluids clinging to you, all while gazing at you with the same eyes as before. Heart-shaped and pleasure-ridden, addicted, and out of his mind. Despite him still having your fingers in his mouth, he cried out, "he heet if stell here, i-if dihmmd woo.." (the heat is still there, it didn't work) before taking your fingers out, gulping down the fluids, and pleading sweetly, "p-please purge me more...♡♥︎♡" This was unexpected, you didn't expect him to react in this way. But you weren't going to complain, you didn't mind taking it a step further. Just...

How were you going to explain that you never used your ability on him?

Tags: @showtime-ss @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

An aphrodisiac sounds like something really fun, right? Though sadly there is no such thing in real life. According to science, all these foods and pills that claim to raise sexual desire and lust have no real correlation with boosting arousal. Because after all, sexual desire is created due to a series of brain chemistry and sometimes hormones. And that is something so complex it can’t be mimicked with chemicals or food.

Chocolate? The sugar raises euphoria and others, but not lust. Oysters? Apparently it raises testosterone levels, though that’s not arousal neither. Cinnamon and exotic spices? Now that’s a stretch. Sometimes the things suggested by people aren’t even healthy to consume! Like the Spanish fly, which helps with getting an erection. But that’s actually just blisters in the urethra, the tube in the penis…. Cuz the fly comes from blister beetles… yea

Though I’m not saying it can’t work, because sexual desire is created by the brain, right? So if you believe eating a banana helps then you can trick your brain, and it ends up actually helping. Or the rumour with the spices, most of the time it’s about the smell, and if you smell something nice that you like, that calms you, you’re more likely to become turned on then agitated or sad.

I wish aphrodisiacs were real though 😔

[moosesarecute]

Day 4: Paid Time Off

@azrielappreciationweek

Masterlist

“They’re incredible,” Feyre said in awe.

Her eyes glowed from the light of Starfall and also from the couple dancing in the middle of the ballroom.

Rhys felt his heart warm at the sight. Y/N and Azriel’s yearly dance. The first one in fifty years. It made him feel a comforting sensation that everything was as it should. Their dance truly ment a lot to everyone in their family.

“They truly are,” he answered her. “Surprised?”

“I never expected them to be such good dancers,” Feyre stated.

Rhys did agree with her. Their beautiful movements surprised him every year.

“Y/N would ask Azriel, Cassian and I to dance every year at Starfall. We always said no. We’re warriors. Warriors don’t dance ballroom dances. Then, suddenly a year, Azriel said yes. I think Y/N was just as surprised as the rest of us,” Rhys chuckled a little as the memory.

“What made him say yes?” Feyre seemed almost in trance looking at their careful and steady movements. The love that bloomed from their gazes could be seen through the entire room.

“It was their first Starfall as a couple. None of us knew, but we probably should have guessed it. Starfall has always been an important day for the two of them. And, of course, none of us know why.”

Y/N and Azriel ended the dance with a small kiss before they made their way back to Mor and Cassian. Azriel’s hand was carefully placed on Y/N’s back and his shadows still held her dress, making sure she didn’t trip on it.

“But that doesn’t explain why they’re so good at it. I never would have been such a good dancer if I only danced once a year.”

“Y/N loves dancing,” Rhys explained. “I still remember her coming crying to my room after she had started the “wife-training” as we called it. She hated the thought that she enjoyed a part of it. But she absolutely loved dancing. I have a theory that they dance all the time when nobody is around.”

“It should simmer for five minutes,” Azriel said before he moved over to you.

You sat at the table, trying to find the right place for the puzzle piece you held in your hand.

Azriel picked the piece from your hand and immediately put it in the right spot. He laughed as you let out an annoyed sigh.

“Come here, love,” he said as he pulled you up from your chair.

You couldn’t help but smile when you realized what it was he wanted.

Azriel’s strong hands held your waist as you moved through your kitchen. Your arms were wrapped around his neck. Your feet were moving together in carefully chosen patterns.

Your smiles and small laughs only grew as he lifted your hand from his shoulder and twirled you around.

The song you danced to was the song that played the first Starfall you were together. A memory you would pull forward and send into Azriel’s mind every time you danced.

His hazel eyes were looking deeply into yours and your violet ones looked back. Your smiles lightened up your entire face.

With a last twirl Azriel dipped you down and his lips met yours.

It was incredible how he still managed to give you butterflies even after centuries of being mates.

He pulled you up again and gave you another small kiss before he let go of you.

“The dinner should be done now,” he said and moved towards the stove.

And as you stood and admired your mate’s beauty you got reminded once more that it really was the little things that made life special.

Divider by @cafekitsune

[bamfkeeper]

Sticky.

RQ: 'Another idea I had was more NSFW, that being a passionate sexual experience with him (the reader can be G/N, afab, amab, or whatever you choose), of which ends with him “releasing” his fluids onto the reader’s torso from the reader pleasuring his area (depending on the reader you choose there can also be other fluids), of which Kurt falls upon when he’s finished. Since both of them are now sticky and whatnot, they decide to take a shower after they have recovered for a minute. Their time in the shower would consist of them washing and rubbing each other and doing slow and lazy romantic and sexual touches, though nothing as explicit as before. It’ll be fun to read Kurt washing / rubbing the reader with his hands and tail, while the reader is feeling down his wet fur. If you want to do something less NSFW, you could do them making out outside, of which they get dirty and then need to take a shower (though I admittedly prefer the more NSWF one 😈). Thanks for your consideration!' - @hulkingharbor

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader // Warnings: Smut 18+ | Suggestive scenes, sex aftermath

A/N: I decided to start it at the end of a passionate night, I have a lot of smut requests so I am trying to balance it out. BUT, I didn't just want it to be sfw. So I put in a little tease at the beginning <3 Unedited. WC: 1.9k

"Bitte! I-I'm close," Kurt whined as you stroked him from your laid position, his poor legs could barely hold himself up as the pleasure shot through his body so intensely. "Aah! m-mein Gott....nngh," he gently bucked into your strokes, his face flushed violet as his pants grew heavier and quicker.

"Come for me, baby...I know you want to..." you encouraged in a sultry voice, making Kurt whimper desperately in response. His hips jerked up steadily to meet your hand's movements, his breathing picked up in short, quick huffs as he felt himself throb and grow hot. His poor body didn't know what to do, he held onto the sheets tightly as he thrusted up against your teasing hand. His cock throbbed and twitched as your hand stroked him, you knew he was going to burst any second now.

"I am going to..." Kurt swallowed the thick lump in his throat as he felt himself seize, his eyes widening before rolling back and he let out the most pleasurable sounds imaginable, your name intertwined with them. His bottom lip trembled as his cock twitched in your palm, shooting out sprits of white cum all over his chest and abdomen. Rope after hot rope came from his blushed tip until the strong shots turned into pitiful pearls beading and dripping thickly down his length and onto your fingers.

His chest rose and fell with the aftermath, he let out a soft mewl as you slowly drug your hand up his cock, pulling out any remaining beads of cum hidden away. His body quivered with lingering pleasure as he lay spent on the bed, exhausted yet content. He remained motionless, allowing the afterglow to wash over him. As he gradually regained his composure, you nestled beside him, your presence a comforting warmth against his side.

You began to trail a series of gentle, unhurried kisses across his face, your lips softly caressing his forehead, cheeks, and the tip of his nose. Kurt responded with a low, appreciative hum, almost resembling a purr, his eyes fluttering closed as he surrendered himself to your loving ministrations. The tension in his muscles slowly ebbed away, replaced by a deep sense of relaxation and contentment.

"Ah...liebe..." he whispered, his hand releasing the sheets and holding your forearm instead. You laid with him and slowly ran your fingers through his hair as he recovered from his orgasm, Kurt's breathing slowly returned to normal and he sighed. "Ach...I am klebrig." He noted, feeling the cum seep into his fur and dry slightly.

You chuckled softly at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. It did make him look quite a mess, you had to admit, and if you were being completely honest with yourself, there was something undeniably attractive about his current state. The tousled hair, the flushed indigo skin, the slight sheen of sweat clinging to his velvety fur - all evidence of your shared passion. However, as enticing as he looked, you were both thoroughly spent for the night, having indulged in each other's company to your hearts' content. You were sure you looked just about the same.

"Yeah, you certainly are a sight," you teased gently, your voice warm with affection. "Let's go take a shower and clean up properly. After that, I promise we can snuggle all you want." You encouraged him to get up, offering a hand to help him off the bed. He met your gaze with tired but contented eyes, a lopsided smile slowly spreading across his face as he nodded in agreement.

As he took your hand and slowly rose to his feet, you couldn't help but chuckle at his unbalance. Even in his exhausted state, there was something endearing about the way he moved, even if he was a bit unsteady from your earlier activities. The prospect of warm water cascading over your bodies, washing away the remnants of your lovemaking, followed by cuddling close in clean sheets, seemed absolutely perfect.

You started the shower, carefully adjusting the temperature and letting the water warm up to a comfortable level before gently stepping in with him. You both simply stood there, savoring the sensation of the hot water cascading down your bodies for several minutes. The steam rose around you, enveloping you both in a warm, misty cocoon as you stood close together, relishing in the intimate moment and the soothing warmth against your skin.

After a while, you both decided it was time to begin washing, you didn’t want anyone complaining about no hot water in the morning. Your hands instinctively reached for his body wash, popping the cap and squeezing a generous amount onto your palm, the fresh scent immediately filling the shower. Your hands touched his chest and you began to lather the soap on him, your fingers gliding smoothly over his skin and through his soft fur, appreciating the textures beneath your fingertips.

Kurt exhaled with a contented sigh, his lips curving into a warm smile as you diligently worked the soap into his fur. The gentle massage of your fingers turned the soap into a sea of white, foamy bubbles that clung to his coat. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched you, clearly enjoying the attention. "You like this, ja? It seems you can't keep your hands to yourself," he teased, his voice laced with playful smugness as you continued your thorough cleansing.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment, though a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "Oh, please," you retorted, your tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. "You're the one who's messy. I'm simply fulfilling my duties as your partner by cleaning you up. After all, I am, technically, responsible for getting you into this state in the first place." As you spoke, your hands moved lower, your eyes glued on his face as his smirk faltered a bit.

"So be good and stay still for me, ja?" You whispered, your hands gently gliding down his legs, taking care to clean every inch with meticulous attention. Your touch was soft yet purposeful as you slowly and carefully cleaned between them, ensuring no area was missed. Kurt swallowed hard, his body tense but obedient as he remained motionless for you. His tail sought comfort by wrapping itself around your ankle, an affectionate gesture, but also one to keep the thing from flicking and thrashing behind him.

He couldn't remember the last time he was cleaned, not so tenderly and lovingly anyway. You worked slowly and thoroughly, making sure every crevice was cleaned on him. You stood back up, his soft, golden eyes on you as he watched with a newfound look of innocence and vulnerability. You knew he had grown up a bit...differently, the details weren't set in stone, but by how he stood there and looked at you there was enough to go off of.

"All done, did that feel good baby?" You rinsed your hands under the shower head and reached up to cup his face, thumbs rubbing over his cheekbones in gentle strokes. Kurt leaned into your hands immediately and he sighed contently, blinking slowly before allowing his eyes to fully close and enjoy the moment.

"Ja...es war gut." His gentle voice rang through the shower, hitting your ears over the sound of the running streams of water pouring down your bodies. His tail unwrapped from you and moved higher on your body, he opened his eyes once again, emitting a gentle glow in the dimmer bathroom light. "Your turn."

His hands slowly lathered your own wash, carefully guiding them over your skin with a delicate touch. He washed you with the same tenderness you had shown him earlier, his movements a perfect reflection of the love and care you had. The warmth of his hands and the soothing sensation of the soap nearly put you to sleep standing there.

"You are so perfect, liebe...so utterly perfect," Kurt murmured, his voice low and filled with adoration. His words hung in the steamy air, emphasizing the depth of his feelings for you. As he continued to wash you, Kurt placed soft, feather-light kisses along the back of your neck, each one a testament to his affection. His tail caressed and soothed your hips, the spade gently moving up and down your skin.

After you both finished cleaning up, you stepped out of the shower together, ready to dry off. As you held up a large towel, preparing to wrap it around Kurt, you noticed his body tense slightly. His eyes widened, and he shook his head emphatically. "No, NEIN, don't you dare-" you began, your voice a mix of amusement and mock horror.

Kurt suddenly transformed into a furry whirlwind, shaking his entire body vigorously, like a dog fresh from a bath. Water droplets flew in every direction, creating a miniature rainstorm in the bathroom from his shaking. You let out a surprised yelp, frantically trying to use the towel as an impromptu shield against the unexpected deluge. "Kurt!!" you shouted, your voice a blend of shock and laughter as you attempted to dodge the spray of water.

After a few seconds, Kurt's impromptu performance came to an end. The damn showman he was. He stood there, looking quite pleased with himself, his fur now a chaotic mess of spikes and tufts where it was longer. Some areas stuck up at odd angles, giving him a comically disheveled appearance. A mischievous grin spread across his face, showcasing his pride in the playful havoc he had just wreaked.

You couldn't help but shake your head in amused exasperation, a fond smile playing on your lips as you gently ruffled his hair with the towel. His fur still damp and slightly disheveled, eyes blinking owlishly as he shook his head in response to your ministrations to let his curly hair fall naturally after the ruffling you gave him. A quiet chuckle escaped you as he did so, his expression and mannerisms never ceased to make you smile.

"You're not dry yet, you know," you murmured, your voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and care. You continued your task, methodically running the towel over his body. Your hands moved with a tender efficiency, carefully working to absorb the remaining moisture from his fur. You were honestly surprised he stood still for you, considering the way his tail knowingly flicked behind him.

As you felt his fur gradually becoming less damp under your touch, a sense of satisfaction washed over you. Finally, when his coat felt mostly dry beneath your fingertips, you stepped back to admire your handiwork. A fond grin spread across your face as you took in his slightly rumpled appearance, affection bubbling up in your chest. "There," you said softly, your eyes twinkling with mirth, "All dry now, you adorable dork."

He pouted lightly, his lower lip protruding slightly as he mumbled, "I'm not a dork. That's an unfair accusation."

"You are, actually, a huge dork," you teased him back, a playful grin spreading across your face as you observed his adorable pout. Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you continued, "But don't worry, it's one of the many things I find endearing about you. Now come on, I believe I promised you some quality cuddling time, and I intend to make good on that promise."

His eyes gleamed with excitement and he eagerly followed you out of the room, his pout now a happy smile. He trailed behind you towards the bedroom, ready to indulge in the promised cuddles.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Uncanny Spider-Man (2023), Pinterest

[divinit3a]

📝drabble: catch me! (if i fall) -> ao3 link 🌟sun x (a devious) assistant reader word count: 2423 chosen words: sparklers, cloud nine, honeydew, letting go, restart

here are the cafe prompts for fellas interested! the deadline for 'new beginnings' is jan 12, 2025 ;3c

“They're called sparklers,” You once told him. Nestled away in the darkness, the sparkle igniting the dim space like a strike of a match. He’s still not sure how you snuck the miniature fireworks into work that day, and he was never brave enough to ask in fear of the cheshire grin that would split across your face. Effectively making him your accomplice, as always. Wore that same grin that always told him he was going to loathe learning what you did this time that put your employment and his life on the line.

The low lighting of the evening tickled at their switch release. Sun hadn’t yet shifted into Moon, but his other half had been awakened and tugged at the dual AI until a presence pressed against his ‘mind.’ The rooftop was technically off limits to the attendant, but you insisted that a technicality was not enough to stop you. 

You dragged him up the stairs, ‘against his will!’, the ‘innocent’ robot would cry with crocodile tears–but he knew that with a single lock of a knee joint, he could have stopped you. He always could've stopped you, but curiosity and intrigue were too devious to ignore. 

”C-careful, you're going to start a fire!“ He remembers you laughing off his safety precautions, letting the sparkler continue to send of tiny sparks. The blitz of light danced across your face, sparkled in your eyes. That's what he always liked about you; a firecracker, a wild spirit who struck the whole ‘Plex like tornado scorned. Always bending the rules in a way that ignited his circuitry, without triggering a full reprimand. Teetering on the line. 

A liability he could delete with one report. Saved a headache.  And yet, the tightrope walk was too enthralling to cut short. 

The air was bitter cold, turning each breath you took into wisps that mystified him. Like you were exhaling magic. 

You'd stand up on the edge of the rooftop, walking along toe-by-toe, a fistful of sparklers in one hand. A fire-hazard. The attendant refused to light one of the hellish sticks, and instead followed right beside you. Matching each step. Reflexes engaged to catch you at any moment. Your actions always triggered their hypervigilance; a disaster sense tickling through his components. 

You brushed your opposite hand against the grated fence that bordered the rooftop, laced fingers between each metal link as you stepped along. 

A slight mis-step. The give of the fence was enough for it to fall down. A comet racing by as the anxiety surged in their wires, compelled to reach forward. 

Wrapping arms around he tugged you backwards, stopping you from recklessly tumbling into danger. You'd laugh and tap away at his shoulder joints, insisting that it was all just in good fun, that you were always fine, that you were safe here. You’d file a maintenance ticket later to fix the fence, it really wasn’t a big deal.

That day, the sparklers slipped out of your grip, and fell two stories down. The bright lights snuffed out in a strong gust of wind. A stroke of luck, Sun scolded, as otherwise it could have started a fire in the parking lot. He remembers that you snorted out a laugh, and patted at his chest plate until he relaxed his grip and set you down. 

You kept acting like nothing in the world bothered you, though he felt the quickened rhythm of you pulse from almost slipping and falling. Simply readjusted the scarf around your neck, and offered him a sparkler, fresh from the pack. Not giving in a single budge until he took it into his hand. 

From your jacket pocket you pulled out a lighter, a deep violet one that was all scuffed up. With great trepidation, Sun squeezed his optics shut and let you light a sparkler for him, tipping it towards the small flame you lit with a click of the sparkwheel. 

Even now, replaying the memory in his mind, he remembers how you cheered on that he was finally ‘loosening up a little.’ Sun let out a nervous chuckle, certain you’d be the end of him. 

Yet, he clings on to the memory of opening his eyes to see how bright that light was. How it lit up the joy on your face, vivid and bright.

The feeling was electrifying. Addictive. The thrill of walking life on the edge; hopped up all the way to cloud nine. 

-------

”Oh, it tastes sweet.“ You'd tell him, reading the robot's mind as it watched with fascination as you pecked away at your lunch. At first you put the employee discount to good use, tried out the fast-order tacos slopped with week-old sour cream and fizzy soda until realizing that it was a one-way ticket to stomach sickness. So now, the tupperware lids scattered around the play table. You wipe off your hands from the sticky residue, and offer the attendant a piece of honeydew.

Sun accepted the piece of food, as if it could ever matter to him. He turned it around between two pinched fingers, appraising the cubed piece of fruit. ”S-sweet?“ He asked, optics flickering up to look at you with an audible click. ”Are you sure, friend? It's all...“ His optics thin out, shutters lowering like eyelids that always caught a spark of light, drew you in to lean closer. Lacking a vaster vocabulary to rely on, the attendant settled on: ”Green. Like broccoli.“ He made a so-so gesture with his hand.

You pulled a face then sneakily slid a piece towards his static smile. The fruit tapped against their piano-key teeth, the snapped-close mask barring entry. A tingle dances across the faceplate, sensing the slightest shift in pressure. Detecting the cold temperature. 

Optical sensors scan the fruit as you hold it to his ‘lips’: 90% water, 9% carbohydrates, 0.1% fat, and 0.5% carbohydrates. The sugar content was moderate, about 8-12 grams of sugar per 100 grams. He failed to grasp the appeal, and said as much through the whirring kicked up of fans.

“Too bad.“ You taunted. ”Guess you'll never understand how great it is.” You popped the piece of fruit onto your tongue instead, made a show of savoring the taste. 

Taste. One of the few senses an entertainment automation certainly can’t replicate. As you chewed, you looked as smug as can be. A twinge of electricity nicked up his arms, caused fingertips to twitch with inaction. 

The subtle interactions stacked up to an avalanche a tap away from tipping over and all falling down.

In the moment, he remembers laughing along, while redirecting extra coolant to his circuits to quiet down the betraying whirl of fans as he overheated. He tip-tapped his fingers together, then shifted the topic towards an easier one. One that made sense to the lines of code filtering through his system, simple and predictable. Unlike you.

“A-anyways, I was thinking that today's afternoon craft could be...” He started a long spiel about cardstock, glitter glue, and macaroni. 

He noticed the way you'd subtly deflate, fiddled around with your notebook as you nodded along to the plans for the day. 

-------

“Like this?” You held up the abomination of a craft. Glue dripped down the sopped piece of paper, colorful faux feathers pasted on without logic or forethought. 

“Nonono, that’s all wrong!” The robot seethed, tugged at his rays, and you just laughed at his superficial anger. The way he’d stomp, and the ring of bells would ridicule his jester-themed tantrum. 

“Alright, Mr. Perfect. Show me how its done.” You gestured to the craft supplies in front of you. He recalls the timestamp: Sunday, 3:42 pm, 18 minutes before you’d stall on leaving. Again.

Sun’s voicebox crackled out a few choice insults, all child-friendly, he’s sure. Lured over by your practiced and weaponized inadequacy, he’d set down the supplies and be pulled from his hellbent task of cleaning the Daycare for the fourth time today. Fell victim to your trivial distractions. 

“Go on, enlighten me.” you’d tease with gusto, and his ruffles would bristle. 

“Well, first off, you aren’t even putting the caps backbackback on the gluesticks—” You’d barely answer his rants, responded with quipped ‘uh-huh’s that grinded his gears. And yet you’d listen to every pointless word, resting your head against your palm as eyelids drooped. At ease. 

With you around, he found that the weekends weren’t so boring anymore. 

For better or worse.

-------

There were days you were quiet, too. Not like yourself– at first he thought, incorrectly. No, all aspects of you were you; as multifaceted as the attendant himself. With darker shadows, a botched attempt at purging a secondary AI. Recycled and restarted, and yet still imperfect. 

Sun couldn’t find you on the shift most the day. Normally he’d tsk and hum and already have half an email drafted to send off to management, but he felt rather generous—and certainly not biased in his decision to spare you. He’d find you tucked into the alleyway directly behind the daycare, bypassing the emergency exit alerts with your clearance badge.

“Smoking is bad for your health,” Sun chided. 

You startled, nearly dropping the lighter in your hands. The small flame warms your palms. A violet stain on your record. 

“You should really let-let-let that badbadbad habit go, firefly.” The robot tsk’s, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway to appear imposing. The firewalls blared in his mind not to take a step outside, as it would go against protocols and leave the daycare unattended during hours of operation. 

You looked up at the nickname, interest piqued. Flicked the lighter closed, a small, damningly hopeful smile quirked at the edges of your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Preach to the choir, sunshine.” You bat the playful nickname right back, and his panels would shudder at the audacity twisted up in his circuits. Fingers curled into fists, rattling with underlaid frustrations. 

“R-right. Well.” Sun scritched at his lowermost rays. “H-hurry back in, its cold outside, and your breakbreakbreak is over in three minutes!” Sun taps the lack of a watch on his wrist, jostling the bells there like a tambourine. 

You bumped against the attendant as you walked past him in the doorway, unbothered by his spindly silhouette. 

“Oh, right. Sun?” His neck hinge swiveled, locking eyes. Rays shrunk back, waiting for your next remark.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” you said with a wink.

The attendant stammered as you cackled and walked away, lacking a pre-programmed retort to put up with your hijinks. The hot and cold act that left his wires bunched up into a mess. The intricacies of human behavior often went beyond his programming, but Sun could pinpoint a rulerbreaker with ease. He was sure he rushed you indoors, hands lingering on the cold of your shoulders just a little while longer than necessary to warm you back up. 

-------

It happened when he was trying to restock the supply closet.  An incident he refused to report to save out on his own pride.

Now, the animatronic was taller than the average human, but the storage layout in the ‘Plex was absurd even for robotic standards. Multi-leveled, crates and boxes, all shoved into the warehouse out back. Ladders with wheels attached type deal. Sun tried to catalogue the health-code violations, but his programming set up proxies and wiped the data each time. 

Beneath him, you waited impatiently and held the ladder to keep it steady. In Sun’s opinion the menial task was better than watching you roll the supply cart back and forth, played the squeaky wheels like a fiddle. Now that was a service ticket worth sending in — that the cart’s wheels needed a good oiling. After all, idle hands make for idle minds, and you are too much to leave unattended. 

“Find it yet?” You called up, louder than necessary. His rays retracted, audio input peeked by your shout. He shook their head, resetting the input levels to neutral. 

“A-almost, just need a few more–” Sun reached out to grab a crate with one arm, confident in the circuitry and hydraulics that powered his arms to handle the weight. 

Yet the briefest flicker in the power was enough to toggle the inbetween state between him and Moon, gears grinding and power reserves swapping tempos. The sudden flash was like being struck by lightning, agonizing and leaving their wires tingling as if burnt.

He let go of the ladder. He was falling.

The impact was softer than he imagined.  And noisier, too. 

“Caught you,” You laughed, arms encircled around their scrawny waist as you held them up from crashing into the concrete floor below. The buttons of their chestplate dug into your work uniform. The devious grin he was so enamored by cracked across your face like a thunderbolt. Maybe you knew, and just wanted to cheer him up.

The attendant was shockingly lightweight, a fact you’d deviously keep in mind for later. You acted as if blissfully unaware of the severity of the moment, the possibility of what would unfold should the power have went off for good, or should they have landed and dinged up their chassis over boxes of pom-poms and silly scissors. 

“I—I—You are insufferable!” Sun sputtered.

“Easy there, sunshine. You’ll blow a fuse.” You leaned the attendant back, righting his frozen posture. “See? No harm, no foul.” You brushed the bits of dust and debris off his shoulder mechanisms, paused to feel the delicate thrum of intricate machinery beneath the outer casings. 

The touch lingered as you zoned in on the humming. He remembers that part clearly, the most confusing of all.

“Hey, Sun?” You asked to cut through the shared silence. Voice soft as feathers. 

The attendant leaned in closer, circuits pumped to overdrive with anticipation. 

“Its 4:08. Do you think they’d pay me overtime if I stick out another hour?” You asked, cheekily aware of the extent of your damages to their emotional processors. He would reel back, reprimanded you for staying past clock-out time. The hardwired programming won out against the clockwork in their chest that just wouldn’t calm down, even as he walked you to the exit, raving all the while about your poor work ethic as you grinned.

Sun remembers spending the rest of the day in a daze, too starstruck by the encounter to accomplish much else. 

How he felt anything besides hatred for you, unpredictable, firecracker, wonderful you, the attendant would never be able to calculate or comprehend.

[hhughes]

luke got a little drunk today and he kept proposing to violet , not great and grand proposals just messy little kisses against her jaw and “marry me” mumbled against her skin.

“no” violet giggles softly, as luke trails kisses down her neck “stop that! both our parents are sitting here!” she scolds softly; pulling his head away by his hair and he pouts

“you don’t wanna marry me and I don’t get to kiss you?” he whines, dramatically flopping his head against the couch

“I do wanna marry you—“ violet starts and their heads nearly butt together because of how fast he looks at her. eyes wide and cheeks flushed

“you do? SHE SAID YE—“ luke yells, mumbling the last bit against your palm as you slap your hand over his mouth, and you both send your parents sheepish smiles as they turn to look at you

“someday lukey. I wanna marry you someday.” violet says, and luke just stares at her for a few minutes before nodding

“okay. some day” he agrees and violet smiles softly, pressing her lips to his warm cheek

“ask me when you’re sober” she whispers, but he’s already passed out on her shoulder, soft puffs coming out against her neck

—

later that night luke is still passed out on the couch as vi and quinn put away dishes.

“did I hear right earlier? lukey asked you to marry him?” quinn asks and violet feels her cheeks redden under the older hughes’ stare

“uh yeah — he was pretty out of it” she laugh softly, shrugging it off

“if he was sober, and he asked—“ quinn starts but gets caught off

“I would say yes. In a heartbeat” violet answers without hesitation, “I mean — I think we could still wait a few years before we actually get married , we’re still young but — I wouldn’t mind being his fiance while I wait” she explains and quinn sends her an affectionate smile as he nods

“you can’t tell him tho,” she tells the older brother, chewing her lip nervously

“wasn’t going to, but why not? just out of curiosity,” quinn questions

“I don’t want him to feel pressured to propose. Actually thinking it through and knowing it’s what he wants is different than drunkenly mumbling it out and just because i’d say yes doesn’t mean he has to do it now, if he’s not ready. I just — don’t want him to feel pressured to do it, just cause i’d say yes” violet explains, fiddling with the dish rag and quinn nods understandingly

“I get that. but you also gotta know that my brother’s been waiting to be with you for years vi. pretty sure he wrote violet hughes on his stick when he was 14,” quinn teases and they both laugh at that

“there’s just a lot going on with both of us right now you know? me graduating soon. us moving in together. luke being insanely busy with the nhl schedule that I honestly still haven’t adapted to. he’s still playing college hockey in my brain. I don’t think it will fully sink in how busy he is until we live together. but yeah — I just think there’s a lot of things happening and I don’t want him to feel more pressure than he needs to. we’re not in a rush” violet explains and quinn nods thoughtfully

“yeah , that makes sense”