#save it as your phone background
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I'll license it under creative commons; feel free to do whatever lol
Anti Zionism is not antisemitism and I’m gonna say it everytime yall try to play victim. it’s honestly disgusting that you think Palestinian people should die just because you want a country to “exist” your people are not in danger if they have enough time to gather near a fence in thousands of groups and cheer as bombs fall on the West Bank of Gaza, you say “Palestine shouldn’t exist” and then use the exuse “when I say in a Zionist, I mean I just want the state of Israel to simply exist” but you mean you want to wipe out an entire race of people to do so, you’re honestly disgusting and I hope karma hits you like a ton of bricks because Israel and the entire west is honestly disgusting. Kike
Thank you for this. I’ll keep it as a case study.
#save it as your phone background#have it bounce around your screen as a screensaver#put it in the moma#go ahead
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Ru'thûn is no Osmium royal, she has no common blood with the Hive Gods. she comes from no extant Swarm known to the Vanguard, or even most Hive.
her armour is fluted steel, yet coarse like sharkskin. it is older than humanity, and is so deeply impacted into her chitin that tearing it away would flay her hide. within the fine, granulated crevices of her armour are the perfect growing conditions for fatal anaerobes.
(an old side portrait of Ru'thûn from February 2022. reuploaded from my twitter. feel free to click and zoom in.)
#destiny hive#hive oc#oc: Ru'thûn#oh i need a new art tag... um...#blackwax art#i'll xkit a new one later.#ah this is so... there is so much i would change about this.#does not matter right now.#since this is a .png there shouldn't be any loss in quality from my saving it and reuploading here...#i tend not to use my phone like this because of an implicit worry that the image will degrade. i hope it looks fine on desktop.#i can't believe i drew this and two weeks later Witch Queen came out#and the First thing i noticed was that Savathûn had the same heels as Ru'thûn...#the only difference between their shoes is that Ru'thûn does not have the prongs on either side. otherwise it is identical which is funny.#if the background was transparent i would say use this to compare heights since that is what it was meant for.#then again you could just superimpose your own thing onto her.#her neck is craned forward though...#i always say Ru'thûn is 20 (now 22) feet tall withoutn horns because she has no horns adding to her height.#i still do not think her horns or... i forgot the word for her Alien Queen graft... add too much.#a lot of this drawing i would redo... now that i have a nice 3d model to look at perhaps i could do that.#Ru'thûn's graft does flare upwards a little but i don't know how much height that would add.#i think what i will do is get some charts out and then count.#otherwise. for this image. i imagine her full height would be roughly where...#the large gap between the third and fourth spine on her headpiece are (not counting the horn on her forehead).#eugh.
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Like class differences is always so painfully obvious to me at times...
#miranda talking shit#I know quite a bit of different people. I don't think I know anyone in “high” class where they're shitting money#But it's... Always a bit of an disconnect when talking about growing up with people that obviously had more money#I'm from an multi-generation low class family. I mean we always had enough to eat and never had to struggle to urvive in that sense#But we've always lived modest. Especially from my mom's side. And talking about growing up with similar peoples#Backgrounds is like ah yes you inherited toys and things from siblings. Didn't have expensive game consoles#But got to play them at friends house etc. Then you talk to someone who weren't in that corner and it's like#Uhhhh what you went on multiple vacations outside the country? You got expensive toys and elictrical things? Multiple? Huh? Uh...#My first and second phone were inherited from my older siblings#Hi I talked about... Child funds with Fabian and I was like oh... They invested your money so it grew nicely#Your starting amount was my final amount um...#It's a weird disconnect somehow. Can't describe it. Just like... Oh you basically got majority things you wanted as young?#I learned to not wish for much and settle... I learned to reuse items. I learned to save things to save a bit of money#I don't even think they were spoiled. There are definitely spoiled people but I do not think I know anyone like that#But it's so wild to hear... Oh your family own an vacation house by the coast? Um... We have one inland north which was#The first own land my grand grand parents saved up and bought and built an tiny cabin on um...
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g. satoru who is a massive pervert and constantly whines for you to let him touch you all the time, even when you're both around others. you've lost count of how many times he grabs you and pulls you into his lap, his warm hands slipping under your shirt while sitting next to g. suguru, who's attention is no longer on the tv.
'he doesn't mind,' satoru always comforts you, grinning into the skin of your neck. 'sugu's my best friend, he knows i can't help but touch you, baby.'
best friend or not, that doesn't explain how you always ended up with your legs spread open wide in satoru's lap, your jeans and panties discarded somewhere on the floor as suguru kisses all over your thighs. the two of them talk like you aren't even there, as if you aren't growing wetter as each second passes.
"satoru," suguru purrs, his fingers running up and down your soft lips, parting them open to watch slick slowly drip out of you. "you must be doing something else to her. i've never seen it get wet so quickly." the way he speaks so calmly makes you dizzy. it's unfair, so fucking unfair how calm and collected suguru is when he's inches away from your pussy, those pretty purple eyes focused on it.
"yeah? 's wet?" it's also unfair how riled up it gets satoru, seeing his pretty baby getting shy because his best friend is rubbing his fingers up and down her slick folds. "she's so messy, isn't she? she's the prettiest little pussy," he coos into your ear. that gets a chuckle from suguru, his eyes finally looking at you. "always the one to talk to the pussy and not about it, aren't you, satoru?"
his fingers finally focus on your clit, rubbing little circles into it. both you and satoru look pretty from this angle, suguru notices. the pure need and shyness on your face paired with that manic desperation on satoru's...it's a perfect picture, one he wants saved forever. maybe next time you'll let him take some pictures...after all, he needs a new background for his phone.
"c'mooon, sugu...give her a kiss? c'mon, c'mon, give that cunt a kiss, tell me how sticky 'n' wet she is," satoru fucking begs, acting as if he's the one spread open and dripping. but you second the thought, giving suguru the prettiest little puppy eyes.
"anything for you, princess," he coos softly, leaning down and pressing a little kiss on your clit. it's so light you barely feel it but then he's peppering kisses on it, your wetness starting to get on his lips and making each press of his lips sticker and wetter. "s-sugu-!" before you can even beg for more, his mouth is on you. his tongue is so wet and hot on your cunt, it feels like he was drooling for you.
"does she taste good? how wet is she, suguru, c'mon, tell me, tell me how that pussy tastes, pretty please?"
"mm, satoru, it's almost as if you wanted to be between her legs."
"who wouldn't? she's so pretty, she's squirmin' so cutely, my pretty baby, my needy little mochi, her pussy's always so creamy and warm and messy, god, i miss it right now."
"shit...stop talking like that, you're gettin' me flustered, should i-"
"s-sugu, please, keep going," you so politely ask. it's unbearable how cute you are, it's taking everything in him to keep being nice, to keep treating your cunt nicely. he knows satoru is mean and practically bullies your pretty slit almost every day, but he wants to be the nice one, the one who you go to when your 'toru' is being too mean. yet, you're making it so fucking hard when you look at him with lidded eyes that beg him to be rougher with you...
but he knows he's done for when satoru whispers something in your ear that has your eyes fluttering a bit and gets a pretty little gasp from you. those gorgeous eyes—oh, do you have little tears in them too?—connect with his and he's fucked.
"s-suguuu, please," you coo to him, moving your legs to hook over his shoulders and pull him closer to the apex of your thighs. "i need your mouth on my pussy r-really bad, please don't tease me." you take a pause and squeeze your eyes shut, whining a little as satoru coos for you to keep going. "g-give my...my messy cunt attention, suguru..."
suguru shakily sighs and the next thing you know, his mouth is smushed against your pussy, his tongue hungrily swirling against your clit as his hands grab onto the fat of your thighs. he doesn't know what gojo told you in order to hear you say that, but he's silently thanking him as he messily sucks and slurps at your juicy cunt.
it's so hot, all it takes is a few swipes of his tongue and you're gushing everywhere. suguru lowers his head to dip into your hole and he moans. he missed this, missed the sweet taste of your juices on his tongue as you squirmed and moaned for him, your boyfriend's best friend.
"fuck, i-i can hear how wet she is," comes satoru's pitiful whine, his hand dipping down to swipe at your clit as suguru focused on lapping up everything that dripped out of you. "lemme help, lemme help, wanna help you get her creamy, sugu." the feeling of suguru groaning into your puffy folds has you keening, arching your back against satoru's chest. oh, he's in heaven watching you both. "yeah, you didn't know she could cream, didya? put your fingers in her, sugu, put 'em in that sticky little pussy 'n' angle up."
reluctantly pulling his mouth off you with a wet sound, suguru slips two of his fingers in you. he doesn't miss the cry of his name, but he really doesn't miss the delirious giggle and moan when he angles his fingers up, rubbing against that spongy spot.
"f-fuck, she's dripping..."
"go on, fuck her with your fingers, you know you wanna see her make a mess. make her fucking cream, suguru, get her prepped. maybe t'day she'll let you put it in...oh, based on your face, she just clenched on your fingers, yeah?"
his fingers are still swirling around your clit, his other coming down to press on your abdomen. he can hear you getting wetter, your little whimpers turning to moans as you slur their names desperately. he wants you to lose all thoughts, only able to think about him and suguru...yeah, he wants you all soft and sweet so he and his best friend can try and slip into those warm, slick walls.
"mmn...she's really creaming...god, pretty girl, can you cum for me? i wanna see you cum on my fingers. satoru, move your fingers, the poor thing needs my mouth on her."
"hmmm, suddenly you know what she needs? ehehehe, you're learninggg, suguruuuu!" if you had turned to look at satoru, you'd see the charged look in his eye, blue eyes practically glowing with insanity. his hand grabs a fistful of suguru's hair and pulls his face directly into your cunt, unable to handle any more of this. he wanted to see you cum on suguru's face.
"c'mon, c'mon, kiss it, suguru, make it messy for the both of us. mmh, fuck, listen to you making out with her pussy, s' wet and sticky, isn't it? oohmygod, both of you sound so good, she's gonna cum, sugu, she's gonna cum in your mouth...fuck, i love you both so much, can't wait to see you both fucking each other."
#geto suguru smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#suguru smut#geto smut#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#💎 ── satoru.#🔮 ── suguru.#i am insane !!#˗ˏˋ ★ lxnarworks .ᐟ
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midnight check-in
synopsis: in the middle of the night, you are woken up by a call from your husband.
pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader
the phone buzzes on the nightstand, dragging you from the edge of sleep. squinting at the glowing screen, you see katsuki’s name flashing across it.
it’s late—past the time he should have been home, but not unusual given the unpredictability of hero work. swiping the call open, you press the phone to your ear, voice still heavy with sleep.
“did I wake you?”
his voice is rough, but familiar, crackling through the line like static.
there’s no apology in his tone, but you can hear the subtle hint of concern buried underneath, like he’s weighing whether he should’ve waited until morning to call.
“no,” you lie, sitting up and adjusting to the quiet darkness of the room. “it’s fine. what’s up? are you coming home soon?”
there’s a brief pause on the other end. you hear the faint shuffle of his gear, like he’s shifting in his seat, maybe still in the office or the agency car. “yeah, I’ll be home in a bit. just… wanted to check in.”
check in? katsuki doesn’t just check in. the man’s explosive, stubborn, and blunt to a fault—never the type to dance around what’s on his mind. so, when he calls you this late just to ‘check in,’ something feels off.
“everything okay?” you ask softly, leaning back against the headboard. your fingers toy with the edge of the blanket, tracing small patterns over the fabric.
“yeah, just a long-ass day,” he grumbles, his voice a little lower now. he’s tired, you can tell, but there’s something else lurking in the background of his words.
“didn’t mean to be out so late. I know I said I’d be back before—”
“katsuki,” you cut him off gently. “you don’t have to apologize for doing your job. I know how it is.”
he lets out a frustrated huff, and you can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, the way he does when he’s feeling restless.
“still,” he mutters. “I said I’d be there, and I’m not. doesn’t sit right with me.”
your heart softens at that. even though his words are gruff, katsuki has always had a way of showing he cares—usually in his own roundabout, katsuki-style way.
“you’re here now,” you say, your voice a little warmer. “that’s what matters. I’m just glad you called.”
another pause, this one heavier. there’s a slight crackle from his end, like he’s shifting again, probably leaning back in whatever chair he’s stuck in, the tension still clinging to him.
“yeah, well… I didn’t wanna wake up and find out you’re pissed I didn’t get home.” there’s a touch of humor in his voice, and you can practically hear the smirk on his lips. “figured I’d save myself the trouble.”
you chuckle softly, shaking your head. “you’re not getting out of trouble that easily, katsuki.”
“darn,” he clicks his tongue, but the familiar grumble in his tone makes you smile. it’s his way of saying he missed you, without actually saying it.
for a moment, there’s just comfortable silence between you.
the sound of his steady breathing on the other end of the line makes your chest ache a little—wanting him here, not just on the other side of a phone.
“you almost home?” you ask quietly, the warmth of the blankets doing little to fill the empty space beside you.
“yeah.” his voice softens, dropping just enough that you can tell he’s not as guarded anymore. “should be there in about ten.”
“good,” you murmur, stifling a yawn as you sink further into the bed, imagining him walking through the door any minute now. “I’ll wait for you.”
there’s a beat, a moment where his breathing catches ever so slightly, before he grumbles again, but softer this time. “you don’t have to stay up for me, y/n.”
“I want to.”
the silence that follows feels different—warmer, like he’s smiling, even if you can’t see it. and maybe it’s the exhaustion in your voice, or the way you said it so matter-of-factly, but something in him shifts.
you hear him let out a quiet breath, the kind he only ever lets out when he’s alone with you.
“...you’re such a damn idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it. just warmth.
you smile into the phone, eyes already half-closed. “takes one to know one.”
he snorts at that, a rare sound of amusement that you love catching him off-guard with. “whatever. just keep your ass in bed. I’ll be there soon.”
“mhm,” you hum, already feeling the drowsiness tugging at you again, but there’s something in the comfort of his voice that keeps you tethered.
you shift slightly, hugging the blanket closer, waiting for the familiar click of the front door. before you drift off entirely, you murmur, “love you, katsuki.”
there’s a pause, and for a moment, you think he’s hung up. but then, quietly, with all the weight of a promise, he replies.
“yeah. love you too.”
the call ends with a soft click, but even after, the warmth of his voice lingers in the quiet room. you smile to yourself, feeling the space beside you growing less empty by the minute.
kofi — navigation — masterlist
do not copy, translate, or plagarize
#bakugo x female reader#bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n#bakugou x you#bnha x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou katsuki x you#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo x you#bakugou x reader#bakugou x fem!reader#katsuki x y/n#katsuki x reader#katsuki x you#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou x you#katsuki bakugou x female reader#mha x reader#bnha x y/n
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this reminds me of simon riley... (🌽 link)
simon riley has the tendency to bend you over any piece of furniture he sees, whether that's the couch in the living-room or the kitchen countertop, he isn't bothered, what's on his mind is easing into your slick, soft folds to plough into your aroused cunt for hours, until he's had his fill and is finally able to stop mercilessly thrusting into your drooling pussy, soothing that pulsating and throbbing ache between your supple, soft thighs.
you know a lot of simon's filthy secrets, from his deepest and darkest fantasies to his sickening kinks that most people would judge and shame him for. they're perverted, but not as perverted as him recording you without your knowledge. he feels excited and on edge while having sex with you knowing he'll have a memory of it saved onto his phone whenever he's on deployment, the camera recording between your glossy thighs and how simon ruts into your tight hole, his pace gentle and slow and his thick, calloused fingers kneading with the flesh and fat on your soft thighs and hips.
“take it deeper— that’s it, attagirl. you always know how to please me, yeah? so perfect and precious, ain’t‘cha, my gorgeous girl?” simon grumbles out through guttural growls, the pleased noises he lets out coming from deep within him. his voice and your loud and whiney moans are audible in the background of the video, with the sound of simon's balls slapping against your wet pussy increasing in volume and drowning out your cries for more the faster and deeper he thrusts.
he'll jerk off to these videos on deployment or when you're not around to soothe and fix the stiffness of his boner, his thick tip creamy and sticky and the sound of your euphoria and ecstasy visible, audible, and addictive, going straight to his aching cock.
#orla speaks#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley smut#simon riley x female reader#call of duty ghost#mw2 ghost#cod ghost
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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your boyfriend doesn’t like it when you eat unhealthy food while busy with uni work.
tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff. age gap (reader around early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). behavior may come off as ‘overprotective’ to some. nicknames ‘baby, sweetheart, princess’. not proofread
satoru’s at work while you’re in his kitchen, preparing a quick meal for yourself. you’ve been busy making and finishing assignments all day. you really could do with a break. though, a short one. there’s still lots more to do before you’re done with everything mandatory.
it’s convenient that satoru allows you to stay over at his apartment whenever you want to. he’s given you a spare key and told you that his home is also yours. if you need a break from your own place, you can always stop by his.
“ah, crap,” you hiss as the sauce packet nearly bursts open in your hand due to how roughly you pulled on its edges. you season your instant ramen noodles without much thought. it’s a quick meal that saves you time.
you’ve had it four days a row now—along with some pizza slices here and there. your boyfriend has been nice enough to send you money, telling you to treat yourself to some decent food while he’s away on business, but you’re really just too busy to treat yourself.
satoru’d be upset if he knew that you’re living off unhealthy crap again. the last time he caught you, he prepared you homemade meals or took you out to restaurants for weeks. he needs you to ingest your daily nutritions so you can stay healthy. you’re too important to him and he wants the best for you.
you grab your chopsticks and mix the sauce with the noodles, your spotify playlist running in the background. you walk to the fridge and grab a soda before sitting down at the kitchen table. unlocking your phone, you decide to see if anything’s going on on social media.
you’re too focused on your screen and the food entering your mouth to notice the front door opening. you catch a glimpse of a figure in the corner of your eye and your head flies up. a bit too late..
“ah, hi, satoru,” you mumble with a mouthful of ramen noodles. you’re caught off guard and you barely know what to do as the white-haired man puts his keys in his pockets. you put your phone down and discreetly try to cover your bowl, “didn’t know you’d come back so early.”
too bad you didn’t think of opening a window or throwing away the opened package of instant ramen. satoru looks over at the messy counter before walking towards you. he reaches a hand out to your cheek, brushing your thumb against your skin.
“hi, pretty,” satoru greets you with a gentle smile. he leans down and presses a kiss onto your lips, tongue stealing a taste of the sauce on your mouth. he pulls back and pinches the cheek he’s holding, “mind telling me what you’re eating, hm?”
you pout and swallow the bite of noodles you had in your mouth. you put your hands down, knowing there’s no hiding anything from your boyfriend. he dislikes the fact that you’re not taking your health seriously. “instant ramen. . .” you respond defeatedly.
satoru ruffles your hair with a shake of his head, silently disapproving of your actions. “i’ve given you money to get a proper meal, didn’t i, baby?” the older man explains in the same tender tone. he doesn’t have the heart to be mad at you. he crouches down next to the chair you’re sitting on and kisses your knuckles, each getting a peck.
“yeah, ‘m sorry,” you nod, knowing your lover did his part of taking care of you. he gave you money to spend on food or ingredients, but you still chose the easy way out. it’s not like you’ve been craving noodles—you’re eating them for the sole reason being that they’re fast and easy to make. you’re too busy (and lazy) to go out and buy stuff.
satoru chuckles, not really mad at you at all. he’s simply worried for your wellbeing. he sees how hard you work for uni while also making time to spend with him, no matter how little it may be. “it’s okay, it’s okay,” satoru coos and kisses your forehead before getting up.
the sorcerer looks down at the bowl of noodles before glancing back at you. “do you want to finish it or do you want me to make you something?” he asks whilst playing with the little hairs around your face. you’re beautiful, somehow even more gorgeous with those dark circles under your eyes.
you pout and think about his question. you’re tired of eating the same thing four times in a row and you know how good satoru’s cooking can be, so. . .
“can you make me something?” you ask carefully in a quiet tone, flashing your boyfriend your best puppy eyes, “pretty please?”
satoru grins and nods immediately. he’s always happy to help you out when you need it. “of course. anything for my princess,” he coos and squeezes your cheeks one last time. he’s got an obsession with the way you scrunch your nose up every time he does so.
he grabs the bowl of noodles and puts it away after making sure you didn’t want any more of it. sure, he wants the best for you, but he doesn’t want to be too restrictive. in case you still want to steal a bit, satoru puts the bowl in the corner of the counter.
you walk to satoru as he stands near the fridge. you rub your weary eyes and watch as he grabs the needed items to make your favorite comfort meal. he catches you staring at him and he smirks lovingly.
“oh my, i have such an adorable girlfriend,” the older man holds himself back from squeezing your cheeks together again. he holds your wrist and pulls you flush against him, his head leaning down to match your eye level.
satoru plants a quick kiss on your lips. his hand finds it way on your hips before slithering upwards. he pats your back, gently comforting and encouraging you, his other hand doing the same on the back of your head. he knows how hard it is for you these days, with the busy end of the semester and all.
“love you, ‘toru, thank you,” you smile at him and nuzzle your face into his chest. you really needed a distraction from all the hard work you still have to do. a quick break with the person you cherish most will gain you back all the energy you’ve lost.
satoru hugs you even tighter to him when you utter those magical words. if he could, he’d take care of you every single second of the day. he’d do anything to make you feel better. he places a peck to your forehead, “i love you too, sweetheart. but promise me one thing; please take better care of yourself, ‘kay?”
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#satoru x reader
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The only answer is that it's ok, of course. This is a standard learning activity anyway.
While we're on this topic, it's also ok for you to save artwork you find online, to print it out, to hang it on your wall, to get it professionally printed for your own personal use, to get whole books of fanfiction printed and bound for your own personal use, to use anyone's artwork as your icons or computer/phone backgrounds, to use someone's visual depiction of a character for personal use in things like RPGs, even to RP other characters in a private setting for personal fun, to draw other people's characters and species, to make up your own character of someone else's species or in someone else's fantasy world, etc., etc., etc., WITHOUT EVER ASKING, just as long as you 1) don't sell it, 2) don't claim it's yours, 3) don't go advertising your use of it (don't post your traced art or other use of characters that aren't yours), and 4) if you're using it online (like an icon or posting fanart) try to credit it somewhere.
It is PERFECTLY OK to do these things. No one can police your personal offline life. They can't even KNOW. You don't have to ask. You can do stuff with things you find online for personal fun, all day everyday.
ALSO while on this topic, "closed species" used to be a huge thing on platforms like DeviantArt. There's no such thing as a "closed species." You can draw any fantasy creature that someone else made up, and you can make up and draw your own OCs of that species all day long.
It is simply not possible and not even right to police what you do for your private use.
*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).
#well that's a tangent#but it's CRAZY and BIZARRE actually that I see so many people asking to use art for things like#phone backgrounds?????#icons???#yes ofc you can the answer is yes#if the artist says No for some inane reason the answer is still ABSOLUTELY YES#did you people never save reams of artwork you found online just for fun?? and slap it on your monitor backgrounds?? now you're ASKING to d#WHAT NATURE INTENDED???#just go use the arts for personal use just do it stop asking all the tiiiiime#find a cool looking character you like and if it fits your RP character appearance then use it in your RPG#love a 'closed species?' GREAT. go make one. they can't stop you.#THEY CAN'T STOP YOU#and they shouldn't even try#that stopping people was even a premise in the beginning is bonkers fruitcake nonsense#empty paper bag lunacy#holds zero water#go have fun people#private use is private use#literally what people don't know can't hurt them#commentary
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Ex at New Year
violet "vi" x female reader — 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?”
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
#arcane#vi#arcane vi#vi arcane#violet arcane#arcane violet#arcane x reader#arcane x female reader#arcane x you#arcane x y/n#vi x reader#vi x female reader#vi x you#vi x y/n#vi imagines#violet x reader#fluff#angst#angst with a happy ending
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strategic manoeuvre.
— WITH…ART DONALDSON!
contains...babysitter!reader, age gap, 18+ MDNI, art cheats w reader but it is lowkey implied that tashi planned the whole thing, car sex, semi-public sex, head (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, inspired by this post from @traumatrios
You had never been interested in tennis before Art.
You weren’t interested in sports at all, really — you just wanted to buckle down and focus on your college work, earn some money with an easy part-time job. You didn’t have time to follow sports, or anything else.
But then you got a call. You had been in the middle of a lecture when your phone buzzed against your notebook, a California number shining up at you and enticing you to pick up. Normally you would’ve let it go to voicemail, but you had recently gone around some of the fancier hotels in your city with flyers, asking for babysitting jobs and posting your number, so you excused yourself with a wave and took the call in the hallway.
You didn’t know who Tashi Donaldson was when she introduced herself, but the hotel she’d asked you to come to later that night was fancy enough that you didn’t question it. You had done an extensive google search afterwards, of course, but simply raised an impressed brow at her repertoire.
Then you met Art, her tennis player husband and the father of the lovely little girl you would be taking care of, and suddenly you were pretty interested in tennis.
It started when Lily had a bad nightmare and you couldn’t get her down — well, it started when you met the guy, palm sweaty in his own as he introduced himself, but it didn’t really start until you had to put one of his old games on the TV for the girl to watch until she fell asleep at your side, tear tracks from her bad dream dry on her cheeks.
You had been planning on carrying her back to her bed when she was down for the count, but you had been so fixated on Art’s movements; his determined look, his arms, his legs, that you ended up dropping out too. You woke up a few hours later with a blanket over your body and Art standing quietly at the kitchen island behind the sofa.
“You looked peaceful. Didn't wanna wake you.” He’d said, sipping at his tea, and you knew you were done for.
Now all of a sudden you had time to watch a tennis match in the morning, play one as background noise while you studied. You had started following his tennis journey right from the Junior Open in 2006 — you didn’t think you'd ever actually see him again, but you could fantasise about it whenever you remembered the smell of his cologne as he thanked you for taking care of Lily, promising a big tip would go straight into your account in the morning.
(The money went in fifteen minutes after you’d left).
It came as a pleasant surprise when Tashi’s number popped up on your screen once more, a few months later. You had been in your kitchen, and took the call the moment you recognised the digits.
“We’re a little ways out of town.” She’d said, “But Lily raved about you for days after last time, and we know you better than a stranger. If you can’t make it out here, don’t worry, but we still wanted to try our luck.”
We she’d said. As in her and Art.
You cursed yourself for lusting after a married man in the uber to the hotel.
From then on out, you became their primary babysitter. Since they travelled a lot, and Tashi’s mom was with them most of the time, you only really sat for them once every couple of months. The town you lived in was sunny and had a huge private sports centre for professional athletes — a fact you weren’t aware of until Art told you over a cup of tea — so they always came back. You were glad you could count on them coming back — it was like magic, the way your phone lit up with Tashi’s now saved contact whenever the late night bingeing of matches and interviews stopped fueling your infatuation.
The guilt was almost enough to make you ignore it, say you were busy or just get a new number all together. But you never did. As much as you knew it was wrong, you always dropped what you were doing and drove to that cushy hotel where the receptionist knew your face and let you in with a smile. You travelled that same memorised route to the master suite, knocked on the door and made sure you were standing far enough away from the peep hole that you didn’t look weird and distorted when Art would look through before letting you in.
It was always Art now. Tashi had greeted you a few times but lately it had always been him — a sick part of you thought she might’ve known about your crush on him, played with it for fun because she couldn’t play tennis anymore. But that was crazy, and you really needed to sort yourself out.
You would greet him with a smile, push through the small talk, lean up against the kitchen island and watch his shirt stretch around the planes of his back as he made you coffee (On those unlucky days he would be wearing a shirt. Sometimes he would be just done with warm ups and physio and would answer the door half naked and covered in sweat. Those were the good days). Then Lily would come running at you from her room, hug you around your waist and pull you in to play; Art would laugh and grin at you, sliding the coffee cup in your direction and holding your eyes before heading to his room to get ready.
You would be knee deep in headless barbies and chewed up polly pocket clothes when he and would return, dressed up and ready to go. He would lean down, kiss Lily on the forehead, and press his hand to your back in a silent goodbye. Then he would leave, and you would spend the whole day trying to pull yourself together.
He was married. He was ten years older than you. He had a child, and was paying you to look after her.
But he always made you coffee when you arrived — just how you liked it because he remembered. He always checked in on you, asked you how your life was while you nursed the mug that was warm from the beverage and his hands. He would tell Lily to behave for you because We like her, and we don’t want to scare her off. He would let his land linger on your back half a second longer every single time he left.
But.
But Tashi was the one who would call you. She was the one who made you coffee the first time, told you it was the least they could do for you. She would walk out of her room with Art, smile at you and tell you how beautiful you look in that shirt. She would grin at you before leaving, waiting patiently by the door for her husband to take his hand off your back.
You were evil. Truly. The guy was married.
But as evil as you were, you always made sure there was an old game of his playing on the TV when they would return — because then Art would prompt you to stay and listen to him talk about it. And you would have an excuse to lean up against that island and watch him make tea while Tashi excused herself to bed. Hours would pass before he was checking his watch and hissing out an apology for keeping you so late, and then letting you leave.
The first couple of times he’d simply make sure you got in your uber safely. Then he started calling cars himself, the same ones that would drive him and his family to and from matches, press events. The same sort of service celebrites used, not their babysitters. You didn’t mind — it was a thrill, listening to him ask the person behind the wheel to make sure you got back safely.
(The bar was under the court at this point, but at least you were aware of that).
But tonight was different. In more ways than one.
In the beginning, all was the same. You were left sitting on the plush carpet of Lily’s room surrounded by lego pieces, a burning in your gut and guilt in your heart. You played doctor, you made dinner, ordered room service after her relentless begging, put on a movie, carried her sleeping form to bed, came back and watched Art play tennis until he returned.
You had started to run out of games to watch, ones you hadn’t already seen, so settled for an old game from 2006. He was playing against his old partner, Patrick something, and you wondered where the lesser known second half of Fire and Ice had disappeared to after that night.
Then Art came back, Tashi right behind him, and you smiled at them both over the back of the sofa. Tashi watched the game, something unfamiliar glinting in her irises, before blinking back at Art, “I’m going to bed.”
He responded a little slower, kissing her goodnight and looking back at you, “Tea? This game was one of my most memorable.”
“Even though you lost?” You teased, leaning against the marble.
He paused, looking back at you. He blinked, “Yeah.”
You drank your tea. You pretended like you weren’t full of shame for standing that inch closer to him. You let him talk until he had nothing left to talk about, and watched him check his watch. You waited for him to pick up the phone and call the car — only he paused by the phone, hand floating just before it, and retracted his steps to the kitchen, “I’m gonna drive you back, if it’s not too much trouble. Saves waking up my driver.”
“Oh.” Your fingers twitched, and you told them to stop. “Sure, of course.”
Art’s car wasn’t what you had expected. Thinking back on it, he didn’t seem like the sports car type, but his status and riches led you to assume you were about to get into one of the two seats in his Bugatti — you didn’t. The black jeep was expensive enough for someone like him, but close enough to home that you didn’t feel like an outsider climbing into the passenger seat.
The drive wasn’t all that far — twenty minutes both ways, so Art would’ve been back before Tashi fell asleep if he hadn't pulled into a parking lot five minutes out.
Your lips parted, eyes following his hands as they slid slowly off the wheel and into his thighs. His chest rose with a deep breath and his jaw constricted when he swallowed. Then he was looking at you, eyes piercing.
“Lily likes you.”
You were unsure, feet shifting beneath you, the sound encasing the silence of the space and forcing you to stop and blink, “I’m glad. I like her.”
“Tashi likes you.”
You weren’t too positive that she would like you if she could feel how you were feeling now — that all too familiar heartbeat pulsing between your legs with every one of Art’s breaths.
“I like you.” He finished, tilting his head until his temple rested softly on the headrest of his seat. His smile was almost taunting when he undid his seatbelt, “Which is your favourite?”
“What?”
“The games.” He clarified, knowing his question was too broad and that you would have to ask, “The ones you watch every time you’re over. The ones I assume you watch even when you aren’t sitting for us. My games. Which is your favourite?”
“Oh. Um —“ Slightly distracted by the way he shed his jacket, dumping it in the backseat. He’d lent all the way forward to take it off and his eyes didn’t leave yours once. “I don’t know.”
“The one you were watching tonight.” He asked then, “What’d you think of it? Honestly.”
“Honestly?” You swallowed, mortified that you were even entertaining this, “You looked a little distracted.”
He huffed a laugh, finally looking away and letting you breathe. It didn’t last long, because he was then getting out of the car and rounding the front of it.
The breeze was cool when it hit you, Art blocking most of it from where he stood in the gap. His hand was still on the handle, but you were busy unbuckling your own seatbelt — the message had been received, you had crossed a line and he was kicking you out of his car.
But when you turned, legs swinging carefully into the cold, his hand on your knee stopped you from really getting out. Your eyes snapped up to his, and you realised you had been caged — with one hand on the door and one hand on you, Art Donaldson had you right where you had been dreaming of him having you. It felt surreal.
“My opponent. In the game from tonight.” He breathed, glancing around casually like you were having one of your simple conversations over tea. “He slept with my wife.”
Out of all the things…
“What?” Your eyes darted between his, but the rest of your body otherwise remained still. Even when his hand on your knee travelled upwards.
“He’d slept with her before. In college. We weren’t together then.” He was now watching his hand move, like he wasn’t the one moving it, “But then he slept with her again, in Atlanta. After I’d already married her.”
“Wow.” You breathed, mainly because it was the easiest word you could slide out of your mouth whilst holding your breath. His fingers reached your thigh, begged to dip between them. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He was quick to respond. Your legs parted on instinct, and at this point you had surrendered to being an awful person — although maybe you’d fallen asleep on the couch and this was all a dream. You didn’t think you’d be able to face Art if it was. You couldn’t even face him now.
He took the newfound space for granted, stepping between your legs and holding them open with his body. His hand on the door followed him, taking its new place on your other leg. He rubbed up and down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from his face.
“I don’t want you watching him play.” He spoke lowly, tracing his fingertips around your waistband, “I’ve seen enough of his games.”
“Okay.” You didn’t hesitate to let out, swallowing the hungered saliva that had built up in your mouth.
He unbuttoned your jeans, pulled the zipper down — painstakingly slow, but it allowed you time to brace your hands on the seat and the dashboard so you could raise your hips and let him slide them off you.
You were stuck in your head, but Art didn’t seem to notice since he was too busy folding your jeans and hanging them over the open car door. You dared question it through a heavy breath but he just moved on to your panties, throwing them precariously on the dashboard and exposing your glittering cunt to his bright eyes.
“We shouldn’t —“ It was a half-assed attempt at reconciling with your guilt, but the fact that you were half naked and spread eagle made it lose its meaning.
Art shushed you, kneeling down so he was looking at your pussy, “We can, and we will.” Then he glanced back at you, brow arched, “Unless you don’t want to.”
Any sense of rationale had fucked off when he put his hand on your leg, so you swallowed and said, “I want to.”
He wasted no time, licking a thick stripe from your asshole to your clit. You knocked your head back with a gasped moan, bucking into him and hissing when the gear stick poked you in the back when you led back too far.
You let out a shaky breath as he lapped you up, tongue dipping inside of you before travelling up to that sweet spot and sucking at it gently. You gasped and moaned, hands scrambling between holding yourself up and holding him down. His own were resting on your thighs — his calm and collected demeanour was a drastic contradiction from your own.
His head nodded calmly between your legs, relaxed in its position — yours, shaky and tense all at once, neck bracing whenever you fell back. His hands tapped soft melodies on your skin whereas yours tightened around whatever was in their old, whether that be the leather of the seats or the blonde of Art’s hair.
When he finally came up for air, his chin was coated in your slick, and he licked his lips clean before straightening up above you. You watched, paralysed, while he unbuckled his belt, threw it over the door with your jeans, and sent you a look under his lashes that you’d only seen him wear during his tennis matches.
You had been keeping quiet earlier, but when he bottomed out inside you and started to piston, your mind went wild. Choruses of Oh my God and Fuck!, shouts of Art’s name and whimpers under your breath — it all came tumbling out and you couldn’t even try and stop it.
Not that you wanted to; your vocality seemed to make him go faster, harder. It made him vocal, no longer calm and relaxed as he had been when eating you out, but loud and gruff. Grunts and moans you had dreamt about hearing outside of a television screen, now being huffed into the air you shared.
You came with a whine and Art followed not long after, and you settled there for a moment — legs spread in his passenger seat with him standing between them — until you could muster up the strength to push yourself up.
Five minutes later and you were both dressed, Art’s black jeep parked outside of your apartment building. You hadn’t exchanged any more words, but when you turned to slam the door once you had jumped out, you found his eyes on yours.
“I have a game this weekend. Two hours out. Tashi wanted you to come. A gift, for all you’ve done for us.”
(You went to the game. Art won. Tashi grinned like she’d made it happen and then offered to buy you a drink).
divider by @cafekitsune !!
#art donaldson#art donaldson x you#art donaldson x reader#art challengers#art donaldson smut#babysitter!reader#challengers#challengers movie#@lia’s works#tashi duncan
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BEACH DAY ꒰⚘݄꒱ BLUE LOCK
SYNOPSIS: as a manager during the nel, a well-deserved rest was needed. what better way to rest than a fun day in the hot summer air, in a bikini, at the beach?
note: this was originally a special for 100k reads on my wattpad book found (which u should SO read btw #shamelesspromo) but to avoid confusion i edited out a lot of mentions of the manager characters who were included in this short! i really hope you all enjoy!
TODAY
is a completely regular day of fun outings. Shidou had (in)formally organised a beach trip, something you decided would be a good idea. The NEL has been stressful on all of you, whether it be you and the other managers, the players, or even coaches—taking a good day off seemed to be a good idea.
So, you were heading to the beach.
The place where women can wear skimpy bikinis without being called promiscuous names (it would happen anyway—but in a perfect world everybody would mind their own business) and the place where strange men (some of those men may happen to be named Otoya and Aiku) would check out the local fauna dressed in said skimpy bikinis.
It was a fun day of splashing around in the waves, ignoring all problems present in your life, and unwinding in the grainy sand. You miss it. That is why, even though you're sure this will happen to end up in disaster, you agreed.
So, this is what got you in this predicament now—thirty minutes before you had to get there with a ten minute trip driving—that was all that was left for you to remember everything.
Swimming outfit. A change of clothes. Sandals that won't trap sand. What else...
You ponder as you stare down at your duffel bag, filled with everything you need. Money—food stalls at the beach were always ridiculously expensive for no apparent reason, Floaties—you never know when somebody might just need some abrupt saving. Towels—plenty of towels, A robe—you'll probably be a little chilly when you get out of the water.
Apart from the obvious essentials like hair ties, deodorant, sunscreen, keys and whatever other odd things you need whenever you go out—you think you're good to go.
You take a good look at your swimsuit. You haven't worn it in a while. A simple black two-piece with each front piece of fabric being held together with two silver rings—it's a little smaller than you would've liked, but you don't own any other kind, so you decide to just go with it.
You roll up your towel nicely and tuck it into your bag, then zip it up. You stare down at the fat duffel bag that is practically bursting at the seams. You are ready to take on the final boss—the beach.
You stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, pulling at the tight elastic band of your bikini. It digs into your skin slightly. Hissing through your teeth—you decide it's nothing, and quickly make your way outside.
With your bag under your arm, you walk out and look around. Two of the other manager girls said they'd saved a spot underneath a bright purple umbrella. It takes little effort to spot it in all its neon glory.
They both sit atop a beach towel, with odd things like sunscreen, keys, and waterproof mascara all scattered around them. You wave a little before you sit down on a part of the towel, taking in the sight of the beautiful beach.
Children running around, adults chasing after them—some guy was even getting told off in the middle of the waves for losing his swim trunks. All in all, the beach was positively bursting with rich energy.
You missed this. You haven't felt this calm in a good while. Dealing with all those rowdy boys vying for your attention—it took a toll on you.
Too bad this peace would not last for too long.
Your phone dings. You pick it up and press on the notification—it's a snap from Shidou. You hesitantly click on the picture and it's a closeup of his left eye—but in the background, you can see the side of the building you had just changed inside, and a shirtless Otoya is trying to kick at somebody.
You don't even have the chance to properly react when a loud yell interrupts your thoughts. You snap your head towards the sound so fast your neck aches—the source was Rin on the floor while, even though a second ago a phone should've been in his hand, Shidou is jumping him.
A smart, sassy quip and loud groans erupts from both you and the other manager girls—you slap your phone down and squeeze your face in your hands.
Perhaps this is the start of doomsday, you think as the overly massive group starts making their way towards you and your blaring purple target of a neon umbrella.
"[name]!!" Bachira crashes into you—with the way he knocks you both to the sandy ground, he should be playing rugby instead of soccer—and rubs his cheek against yours like a loving cat. "I'm so excited to see you again! You never come by our stratum!!"
He's flat on top of you and the stares you're receiving start to grow uncomfortable. You push back at his chest but he simply opts to sneak his arms around your shoulders, "Bachira...!! Let me... get up..."
It takes the brute force of Barou King Shoei to remove his figure from latching onto yours. With a twitching brow and eyes that could stab daggers into Bachira—a small laugh unintentionally escapes your lips when he talks, "You're all sandy, you disgusting bug. If you get all that sand on the towel, I'll seriously kill you."
Bachira is being held up by the scruff of his water suit like a cat. He dangles in the air and flings himself at Barou next—"Fight me, king!"
"YOU—!!!"
Ignoring the upcoming brawl on the ground, you step over the two and you find your way towards...
"Hello, Isagi."
Your voice seems to make him jump—his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of your face and he looks far too nervous to be speaking to you. "O—Oh... Hello, [name]...! It's good to see you again..."
He's trembling and making such intense eye contact that you wonder if he's okay. His fists are clenched hard beside his body and you think he might just about have a heart attack. "Are you... okay?"
He answers a little too quickly, "Yes! I'm fine, haha, why would you worry about me? I'm totally good! Best I've ever been! Why would you ask? I look okay, right? Well, I gotta go now! I'll see you later, [name]!"
He runs off like he's a high school girl who's just had her first conversation with her senior crush. I can't tell if he's insecure about how he looks or worried about being disrespectful to me.
Maybe it's a mix of both. Isagi is on the slimmer side, compared to guys like Barou. Even though I know he's not, he looks like he's on steroids.
And Isagi's always been worried about being disrespectful to you—worried about overstepping boundaries and making you uncomfortable—at least when he's in his usual, clear state of mind. There's no telling what he's thinking when he stares down at you late at night after a good game with that overconfident, egotistical smirk.
Anyways—he's rushed away by now, and you're just standing here looking all stupid. Oh well. At least you're not alone for too long, because your attention is quickly stolen away by a certain trio.
Karasu, Otoya, and Yukimiya all come up to you—only one bothers to wave or even smile (there's no surprise he's a model—he's seriously gorgeous, you note when glancing down at his torso).
"Hey." The sneaky ninja is not so sneaky anymore, because he doesn't even try and disguise the way he's staring at your chest. He gives you a thumbs up, to which you scowl, "Lookin' good."
"Get your eyes off my chest."
"Sicko." Karasu shakes his head with a disappointed expression. You deadpan.
"You too, stupid crow."
"Did your mothers not teach you respect?" Yukimiya clicks his tongue—eyes fluttering closed as he shakes his head. He soon turns his head towards you and he actually does make eye contact with you—a step above his two friends. "It's nice to see you, [name]. You look very nice. Ignore these two."
You promptly ignore the offended looks shot at the model—you opt to just stare, perhaps a little too dreamily (but you couldn't care less, really), and smile back, "It's nice to see you too, Yukki. Thank you, you look handsome today, too. I was planning on ignoring those two, anyways."
"Woah, that is seriously hurtful." Karasu places a hand over his bare chest where his heart would be. "Too bad I don't care."
You roll your eyes. "Of course you don't, stupid crow."
"Would you stop calling me that?"
"Would you stop staring at my boobs?"
He pauses. "Point taken."
Having Nagi cling to you during your time at Blue Lock is pretty hard already. Believe it or not, he's 6'2, and believe it or not, having a grown 6'2 man hanging off your side makes it pretty hard to get around.
Having a shirtless, messy-haired Nagi plant himself right on top of you and having his face smushed against the top of your chest is a little worse.
You can feel a burning stare at the back of your head. You're not sure if the stare Reo is giving you is directed at you or the snow-haired boy. (Perhaps it is both and he's just conflicted—you would understand).
"Nagi..." You push back at his head and slowly intertwine your fingers in the white locks. They're softer than you imagined, but the ends are unmistakably dead. You should cut it for him later. "Go swim or something."
You are disappointed (yet, not the slightest bit surprised) when he promptly shakes his head no and proceeds to dig his nose even deeper into your exposed skin. His voice is slightly muffled, but still plausibly understandable, "Nuh-uh. Dun' wanna."
Your eyes twitch. Perhaps you have been spoiling him a little too much—so much so he refuses to leave you be.
"'Cause I didn't wanna go, but then mmmm... uh—Reo told me you were gonna come... and it wouldn't be too much of a hassle if you stayed with me. Hadn't seen you in so long. Missed you."
Right. You forgot he told you that before, too. Perhaps you had been a bit too doting on Nagi—he's clingy-er than you remember. Or perhaps it had been similar to that saying, distance makes the heart grow fonder.
A loud shriek (it sounds far too girly to have come out of Nagi's mouth, but go figure) alerts you and you see Nagi has been grabbed backwards into a headlock by Barou King Shoei. Perhaps he had turned away from the villainous side since your last meeting with him, because right now, he's saved you twice, like a hero.
Nagi doesn't even fight the King's death grip—he flops like a dead fish and it looks rather funny seeing it so closely. Nagi is taller, yet much lankier than Barou, who looks like a bodybuilder compared to the lazy snowhead.
"You're kicking sand all over the towel, Mr Hassleman." Barou snarls and jerks Nagi's head back. The boy doesn't react other than wearing his little :x face. "Go swim it off. Now."
Nagi does not make any visible effort to move. Barou still holds him like a ragdoll in his grip when he turns to look at you—you laugh a little and move your sunhat out of your eyes. "Hi, Barou. It's nice to see that you came. I didn't think you'd like the beach."
He looks a lot different with his hair down, you note. But in a good way. Fallen beneath his shoulders—you wonder why he does not wear it this way more often. He still holds his signature forever pissed-off expression, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think I'm incapable of having fun?"
You pause, with a small grin. "Yeah, kinda."
He gives you a deadpan expression. "You're the same as always, you shit manager."
"I thought our relationship had progressed to the point we'd gotten past these mean names." You place a hand over your chest, a cheeky smile on your lips with a faux-hurt expression. You didn't usually joke around like this—it wasn't really your thing—but he was just far too easy of a target to tease. "I'm hurt, King."
He cocks a brow—you see Nagi trying to wriggle around now, and it's good to know he didn't actually die—"Seriously? Didn't think you were the type of person to care."
"Doesn't matter now. You're gonna swim, right?" With a nod of his head, you break away from his sharp stare and give him a small wave with a closed-eye smile. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Oh yeah—by the way, you look good with your hair down. You should do it more often. Anyways, see you later."
You do not catch the half-hearted wave Nagi sends you—which was just him flopping his arm up in the air—nor do you catch the look Barou throws over his shoulder at you, "... Not too bad yourself."
He says, but you do not catch it.
Nagi stares up at the man with a blank expression, "Who knew you were all sweet on our manager, huh, King?"
The King in question growls like an animal and tosses Nagi into the ocean like a ragdoll, "Shut the fuck up!"
"Beach volleyball?" Chigiri stares with confusion in his bright pink eyes as Kurona sits on Gagamaru's shoulders—setting up the tall net. His hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and his bangs fall over his eyes. "Are you serious?"
His head turns to yours when you shrug, "Why not? Beach volleyball is super fun. It's not like you guys can play soccer on the sand."
Chigiri pauses to think your words over for a second. You give him the most empty stare you can muster before you speak, "You really can't play soccer on the sand, Chigiri."
"Well, still. Are you gonna play?"
You shake your head and spare him a small smile. "No, I think I'll pass on this one. I'd like to see you play, though. You seem like you'd be really good at volleyball."
He gives you a pretty smile and shakes his head. "Oh, I don't know. I wasn't really planning to play either. I was honestly just thinking of sitting down with you and just relaxing."
"Oh, but I really would like to see you play. I bet you'd be better than anybody else out there, Hyoma." Not to be brass or anything, but you like to think you know a good amount about Chigiri—including how to get him to do what you'd like: Fan his ego. Or to put it in better words, praise him. "I think you'd look pretty cool."
You give him the nicest smile you can muster, and you're sure that's what seals the deal. He turns his head away from yours—yet you can practically sense the smirk he now holds—"Well, if you really think so, why not?"
You laugh a little as he walks onto the court, and each side with six players—even if in official beach volleyball, there were only two on each side, this was the most unofficial game you've ever really witnessed.
Otoya and Karasu are jumping on each other's shoulders in an effort to block the spikes—it only ends in the one on top tumbling to the ground and Yukimiya shaking his head in an I'm not mad, just disappointed motion.
Bachira is using his feet to play, kicking the ball up even when his hands were a completely more viable option—you think this is illegal, but who are you to judge—and Shidou is doing the same thing, except he... is hogging the ball. You aren't even sure how you hog the ball in volleyball, but he's managing it.
Rin is the one who manages to get it away from him but it only ends up in another tussle—something you do not bother to stop because one of the manager are already running toward them with a can of hairspray (which, if you were not previously aware, has the same effect as pepper spray if directed into the eyes).
You loll your head back and let out a heavy sigh. This beach day was going better than you had expected—still, your group by far had gained the most traction from how loud you all ended up being. You've gotten countless stink-eyes from old people, especially when Shidou yells out profanities in the vicinity of little children.
You wonder if the police may get called on you all. Maybe you should pretend you're not in their group as a last-ditch effort if it does end up happening.
You are broken out of your thoughts by a small, almost nervous greeting, "Um... hey, [name]."
You look to where the source of the sound came from—you get an eyeful of Isagi's bare torso before you see his face. He's looking off to the side awkwardly as if the mere action of looking at you would be purgatory, and he looks like he doesn't know what to do with his hands so he grips the end of his swimming shorts awkwardly. It's cute.
"Hi, Isagi." You smile. You shuffle over to create a little more room on the towel you are sitting on. You pat the free spot beside you and nudge your head towards him, "Come sit."
Obediently—you didn't expect him to move so fast—he sits beside you. He still looks stiff and nervous, so you ask him what's up. He responds, quickly but much quieter than his usual calm tone, "I was... um... ah, this is so stupid..."
He sucks in a deep breath of air and turns his back towards you. It's a little more built than you imagined. "I was... just gonna ask if you could put sunscreen on my back... I can't reach, and I trust you more than the... others."
You can practically feel the way his face burns up from how his voice cracks and grows more hushed with every word. To save him from the embarrassment, you decide to spare him from teasing words. "Sure. I don't mind. I'm glad you trust me, Isagi."
The words come out a little more sultry than you intended as you test the waters and place your fingertips on his bare shoulders. He shivers. You can feel it.
You spread the sunscreen all over his back—he places his face in his hands as you work your hands a little lower. When your fingertips brush against the waistband of his shorts he has to bite back a small groan. This was utterly humiliating for him—seriously, this was sad.
You're not completely oblivious to this fact, so in a menial act of pity for the poor guy, you try and finish up as quickly as possible—if only to save him from the embarrassment.
It feels far too intimate to be just a friendly gesture. He wonders if you feel that way too. You lightly rest your palms on his tense shoulders when you are done, sitting on your knees and leaning your face near his own, "Done."
He'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat. He swallows thickly, blunt nails digging into his palms as he shuffles around so he faces you. The words that come out of his mouth are a little shakier than he would've liked, "T... Thanks... [name]."
The smile you have plastered on your face is nothing short of pretty, he thinks. "No problem. You can come to me if you need anything, okay?"
Why do you have to say things like that, [name]?
Isagi gives you a small nod, and practically forces a wavy smile onto his lips. "Yeah... You're really helpful, you know that?"
You laugh. "I know."
The mood between you two is calm and the strange tension from before has dissipated. You're smiling from ear to ear, about to say something—when Isagi's demeanour changes completely. You're not too sure why, but he seems to spot something behind you and his eyes completely shift.
Gone is the meek and shy boy, and in his place is a coy, smiling man. He places a hand on your upper arm—it makes you jolt and look at him in surprise. A second ago, he couldn't even look you in the eye, and now, he was shuffling closer towards you like it was the most natural thing ever.
"Anything, right?" He finally speaks, and he moves his hand up, away from your arm and it lightly traces underneath your jaw. He looks deeply into your eyes, but still keeps glancing behind you. "Can I do this?"
You do not get a chance to ask what this happens to be—although, it does not take a genius to figure it out, and you are no genius—or even spare him an answer before he grabs your hardcover novel and holds it up in front of where the two of your lips meet—covering your kiss from the other players that surround you all.
He doesn't dare take this further than a small kiss—yet, it wouldn't be considered a simple peck either. His hand holds the underside of your jaw lightly and tilts your head up so he can easily feel you and the back of the hard-cover book feels cool against your cheek.
You'd like to believe the reason your cheeks are on fire is from the blaring heat of the sun shining down on you—even though you are underneath the shade of that purple umbrella. His lips taste sweet, like a fruity drink. You think a stall nearby is serving something similar to that.
You can feel his smile against your lips, and he seems to be all too happy to have you like this. He tilts your face forward and your body has to follow—to the point you practically collapse into his lap. It feels much more intimate now that you can feel his bare skin against your own.
Isagi moves his hand down from your jaw down toward your waist, holding you taut against him and letting his fingertips rest in the dip of your back.
You finally end up moving backwards, and your sunhat almost falls off your head—Isagi quickly readjusts it when he pulls away. He gives you a sweet smile—though, it grows more cocky when he glances behind you again—and says, "You really are helpful, [name]."
You blush a little but still retain that same smile when his hands trace down your spine gently, romantically. "I know."
Isagi joins in on the beach volleyball fun with Nagi after Rin and Shidou leave in favour of taking a dip in the sea (you think you hear Shidou saying something about skinny-dipping, and you pray to every god imaginable you heard wrong), so you are left to yourself once more.
You are perfectly content. Your sunhat lay on the towel beside you and your legs are peeked out in the sun—reading your book where you last left off.
Your life is perfectly calm until it is not.
Hands suddenly cover your vision and all you see is darkness. You jerk your head up and are about to say something when a heavily accented voice suddenly rings out throughout your ears, "Guess who?"
You could recognise that voice in your sleep from how often it haunts your dreams. You recognise that voice even before you hear it. You slump down where you sit, letting out a heavy, almost tired sigh. "Kaiser..."
"Ah! How did you guess it so easily, hübsches Mädchen?" He removes the hands blocking your vision and he suddenly plops himself down, right in front of you—of course, his little guard dog is right by his side, sporting his usual guileless expression. "Perhaps you think of me far too often, hm? Also, I told you to call me Michael. We are closer than that, no?"
You shake your head, eyes slightly squinted at him. "I don't know about that. Hello, Ness."
The puppy-dog boy waves his hand at you, clearly delighted. "Hello, [name]!"
Kaiser looks annoyed at this interaction. He scoffs, rolling his electric blue eyes and waving you off mindlessly, lashes fluttering closed, "Whatever. I cannot believe you're just reading at the beach."
You raise a brow. "What's wrong with that?"
He picks up the book by its spine and tosses it nonchalantly on the towel beside you, lips curled downwards into a sneer, "It's terribly dorky. You look like a huge dork."
"You sound like you care about that more than me."
"I don't want my love interest to look like a huge geek. Appearances matter a lot, you know." Yeah, you make that really clear. He abruptly stands up—Ness scrambles to get up as well—and looks down at you, finger curling upwards towards you like he's beckoning you to follow him. "Come on."
You blink with your nose scrunched up. "Excuse me?"
He coughs into a closed fist, looking up at the bright blue sky so he doesn't have to meet your gaze. He still holds a hand out to you, "Come on. Don't keep me waiting."
You're so shocked that you actually find yourself following after him—though, you do not take his outstretched hand and it is left hanging awkwardly. Ness would've taken it.
Your sandals flop on the sand as you walk down the beach, past families and couples and people simply wanting to tan—you follow behind Kaiser in silence while Ness walks beside you. You hope people don't think of you three as a throuple. That would absolutely not be good for your image whatsoever.
You pause as soon as you realise exactly where he is leading you. He's stepped halfway into the water when you halt your movements right before the splash of a wave hits your toes.
"Yeah, no thanks." You abruptly turn on your heel and proceed to try and make a getaway—you don't get too far until Ness grabs your wrist and tugs you backwards. You tumble into him—somehow, he doesn't fall over and only grabs your upper arms in his hands with a frantic expression.
"Please, [name]! Kaiser really wants to swim with you!"
Kaiser hisses through his teeth lowly and stares at Ness like he's just cursed out his mother, "What the hell, Ness?! I never said that!"
The small boy does not make it very subtle when he gasps in shock. Ness slaps his hands over his mouth and shakes his head—his voice is muffled when he speaks, but you can still understand slightly, "I—I never said that! Nobody said that!"
He's so embarrassed the poor boy rushes into the water and disappears beneath the waves. You wonder if he has become one with the sea. In the distance, you can see Kurona and Hiori chilling on a large unicorn floatie—with drinks and colourful straws—that should've only been able to fit one person.
You and Kaiser are now just staring at each other in very much awkward silence. You take a languid step back. "Well... If you don't want to swim..."
Once again, you do not get the chance to dash away because he's grabbed you and pulled you into his grasp before you could even react. You look at him with wide eyes—but you're practically putty in his hands when he bends down and clasps his arms over the back of your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder like a menial sack of potatoes.
Your sandals fall off your feet as soon as you find yourself tucked over him—you let out a very loud, very offended, very embarrassed gasp of shock, "What the hell... ?! Kaiser—put me down! Sick bastard!"
Your words have no visible effect on him. Your head slumps down when you feel him walking, and your hair hangs over your head. You get a good eyeful of his back. He's also more muscular than you imagined. Makes sense why he could even do this. That doesn't mean you're not pissed, though.
You can't see his face, but you can practically envision his signature cocky smirk and how it paints his stupidly handsome features, "I'm all fine, hübsches Mädchen. Are you ready?"
Huh? Ready for what—!!!
You feel so indiscriminately stupid for even asking this question—you should've already known the answer—because you suddenly find yourself collapsing into the water, salt filling each of your senses and the loud noises of children screaming around you fading to muffled nothingness.
You jump up as fast as you can—you're just tall enough so you can stand with your chest above the waves. You start coughing to try and get the small amount of water you happened to swallow out of your system—your hair is now wet with the water and is suddenly heavier, and you're shivering cold.
Kaiser, the asshole he is, is laughing wildly at your expression. You push your hair away from your vision and you receive an earful of his—stupidly charming—laughter. His hands clamp over his mouth in a last-ditch effort to muffle himself, which only makes your face flush hotter with anger and your chest tightens.
You want to yell and scream into his face, but you choose the better way out. You puff your cheeks out and hold your breath as you dive back under, swimming behind him and slamming your foot into the back of his knees so that he tumbles forward, face-first into the water.
You've never felt prouder of yourself.
You bob your head back up and start to laugh wickedly now—it was his turn to look like a drowned rat. When his head comes above water, you can't help the tears of laughter that brim across your waterline when he gives you a deadpan, silently fuming glare.
His wet bangs cling to his face (somehow, it suited him—the mere thought made you feel a little angry, in the way that your stomach started to feel all weird and your heart skipped a beat or two) and his red eyeliner is smeared down his cheek. He pushes his blonde hair back, so that his damp bangs fall over his left eye and his hair is parted strangely to the side.
"Hmph." He looks away from your figure—you have to cling onto his shoulder to stop yourself from falling over, and your chest heaves up and down wildly to breathe. "I don't know what you find so funny."
You look up at him from your slumped position, eyes squinted upwards and you're practically sparkling with joy, "You... you look hilarious! Ahahaha—look at you! I can't—" Your words are cut off by your gasps for air.
Kaiser does not look the least bit impressed. He stares down at where your cheek is planted on the side of his neck, right where the blue rose lies. His hands stabilise you by falling into the small of your back—right where Isagi's fingertips once touched.
You finally regain your composure and move away from how you were practically pressed up against him—your cheeks are starting to hurt from how hard you were smiling, and you now sport a much calmer sort of grin when you stare up at him. "Ah... I'm sorry—don't look so mad—"
He rolls his eyes, which makes you chuckle, hands resting on his shoulders, "Oh come on... don't look at me like that... I'm sorry..." Your tone is far too playful to sound apologetic. He is slightly enjoying the attention you bestow upon him, but the thought makes his head hurt so he chooses not to reflect on it. "Michael..."
Fuck. His name sounds so nice coming out of your mouth.
He still keeps up the annoyed act, however, even when you grin up at him with that stupidly pretty, stupidly knowing look, "Don't be like that... I'm sorry, okay? What do you want me to do to make it up to you?"
The blonde pauses, blinking owlishly and looking down at you. You are still smiling, and he can feel your heart beating loudly in your chest. You almost look dazed, probably from your previous session of full-blown laughter.
His hands still rest lowly on your hips. He moves one and tilts your chin up with his thumb, "Hm." A smirk coils onto his lips and in an instant you can see the happiness that practically radiates off his being. "I think this will suffice, for now."
He leans forward, and suddenly, he is kissing you. Unlike Isagi—he wastes not a second to slip his tongue between your lips and kisses you as deeply and passionately as he can muster—it's so Kaiser, so him that it makes your stomach twist within itself.
His hands run down the side of your body—the places where his rough fingertips meet the skin that you usually cover with clothing make you jolt and goosebumps form on your wet skin.
His bangs tickle your cheek and despite how wet they are, they are soft. His left, tattooed hand finds itself on the side of your stomach and his blunt nails sink into the soft flesh—he grabs at whatever he can get his hands on. It's lowly and desperate and so unbefitting, so uncharacteristic of him—but in this moment, he can hardly find it within himself to care.
The hot sun beams down on you both and it causes your head to grow all hot and fuzzy—Kaiser's natural warm body heat is not helping either. You're feeling so much all at once that your hands unconsciously place themselves on his bare chest in a small attempt to create a sliver of distance between you two.
It does not work. Your torso leaves no room or gap as you're sunken into his arms—it makes him groan into your mouth and god, you almost feel sick to your stomach when you realise your first thought after hearing it is that you really want him to do it again.
You're not underwater anymore, but you might as well be. Every sense is muffled—the children screaming, the cool, glittery water that surrounds your bodies, even the blackness that clouds your closed-lidded vision—all you can feel is him, his tongue in your mouth and his hands running all over the smoothness of your skin.
Suddenly, you feel your lungs aching, and you realise you need air. You try to pull away—but his face follows yours like he's a mindless dog, and you could've laughed at it if you had not been so stripped of oxygen. You need air and yet he's kissing you like you are his air—it's a fact that makes your cheeks flush red hot.
The only option you can think of is the next action you take—you squeeze your hand out of where he presses your chests impossibly close and entangle them within his damp, blonde locks—tugging backwards and forcing him to leave the slightest amount of space between your mouths, so you can gasp for air.
Your hand tugging at Kaiser's long hair, hard, and you hotly panting into his mouth—he'd rather be caught dead than admit this aloud, but it doesn't feel half bad.
Your eyes crack open slightly, and you have to choke down a laugh when staring at his expression. His face is flushed bright red—compared to his usual pale complexion—and his squinted cerulean eyes are clouded with unmistakable desirable passionate lust.
"Scheiße, hübsches Mädchen." He curses lowly, chest rising and falling erratically as he pulls you in even closer—if that were possible. You can feel every ridge and bump of his hard torso against you and the smirk that pulls across his lips makes your heart pound. "You make my heart race."
When your breathing starts to even, he closes the gap between you both once more, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down—you whine into him and he kisses you softly as some sort of minor apology—you'd never hear the word sorry come out of his lips, after all. His hand dips down to trace up and down your spine, while the other rests below your ass.
He slides his lips away from yours, down your neck and he rests his face in the crook between your neck and shoulders—pressing languid, open-mouthed kisses against the salty skin. His hair falls over his shoulder and trickles into the water like molten honey—it flutters around in the sea and he looks stupidly gorgeous like this.
Now that he's not blocking your vision nor taking over each of your senses, you can see now see the distant figures of your friends all playing together in the sea, including that of Isagi. He's talking together with the others and having fun while you're over here, making out with one of his most hated rivals.
Still, you can't find it within yourself to give it a second thought when his teeth sink into your neck, and his hands tighten around your upper thighs. He lifts his head after you whimper a little and push him back—he follows where your eyes lead and you're sure he also happens to see the head of your dear friend.
The smile that curls across his lips is nothing short of dangerous. "Oh, is that Yoichi? Are you worried about him seeing us?" You do not give him a verbal answer, but the way you look down and the way your lips tremble gives him everything he needs. "How cute. No worries."
He lifts his face and all you can see is him. His hair falls over his shoulder and his bangs tickle your cheek once more. His touch is undeniably soft despite the carnal look he sports in his sharp, angled eyes. "Why don't we give him a show, hübsches Mädchen?"
He whispers so delicately—you do not have the mind to shake your head no, nor do you protest when he slips his tongue between your obediently open lips once more, hands tucked around your hips.
Your heart will not stop pounding. Kaiser smiles at the fact that he is doing this to you. He smiles at the fact you are like mindless putty in his hands, and he smiles at the fact that he can feel bright blue eyes staring holes into him—there's nothing wrong with showing off, right?
© KENYUMMY 2024
#blue lock x reader#bllk#bllk x reader#blue lock#blue lock manga#michael kaiser#kaiser x reader#michael kaiser x reader#kaiser#isagi#isagi yoichi#isagi x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#nagi#nagi seishiro#nagi x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#karasu#karasu tabito#karasu tabito x reader#otoya#otoya eita#otoya eita x reader#karasu x reader#otoya x reader#yukimiya#yukimiya kenyu#yukimiya kenyu x reader#barou shoei#© iliverae 2024 !
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in which Spencer needs your expertise to help solve a murder, but crime fighting is most decidedly not for you
find more chemist!reader here!
who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: flangst (like. the end is a little angsty and it has case details) content warnings: typical cm violence, science talk, fem!reader, reader is not built for crime, morgan being an older brother, some fun banter!! death by firework is crazy lmao word count: 1.68k a/n: this is one of my favorite fluff pieces i've written in agessss i missed chemist!reader so much i learn so many things when i'm writing her. this was a request! i hope you like it as much as i do!!
“Do you have a second?” Spencer asks, his voice slightly choppy over the phone. Between his ancient phone and being inside concrete police precincts, some disconnect was bound to happen.
Saving your document to your computer, you rest the lab phone between your shoulder and ear, “If you’re asking me if I have any corrosive chemicals in my hands, the answer is no.”
He chuckles lightly, “I never know with you.”
You roll your eyes in response, even if he can’t see you, “It was one time and I needed a new phone case anyway.”
“You fused the plastic of your phone case to the material of your phone,” he retorts far too quickly for your liking.
“Yes,” you acquiesce, “but I know the exact chemical reaction that caused that phenomenon.” You cross your legs one over the other, maintaining your balance on your lab stool as you speak to Spencer over the phone.
He gave a light hum in response, “Speaking of chemical reactions – I need your help.”
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You’re asking me for help in chemistry?” There really was a first time for everything, you suppose.
Spencer was more than capable of navigating a lab on his own, even so, he admits, “You have more applied practice than I do.”
Pursing your lips, you nod to yourself, “Fair enough. What’s stumping you, Dr. Reid?” Your inquiry, while innocent enough, garners a wolf whistle from your graduate assistant.
“There’s something burning a hole in these bones, and I’m not sure what would be causing it to happen this fast,” he explains, giving you minor background information on how long the bones were out and if the medical examiner had treated them with something.
You clear your throat, frowning at the notes you had scrawled down in front of you, “Burning or corroding?” What was seemingly a meaningless distinction would actually allow you to filter through approximately half of the possibilities.
“Corroding,” he corrects himself, “My mistake.”
Crossing off some of your notes, you purse your lips at the new possibilities, “No worries. Did you try flushing it out with water?”
You hear papers flipping on his end of the call before you get a response, “That would destroy evidence.”
“Well,” you raise your eyebrows, “It sounds like your evidence is destroying itself.”
“Baby,” Spencer says in a no-nonsense tone reserved for when he was deep in a case. You could’ve sworn you heard Morgan in the background of the call mocking him for the pet name.
Turning back to your notes, you sigh, “Yeah, yeah, all work and no play. Was the body buried?”
“Partially,” his reply intrigues you, “I can have Garcia send you the crime scene photos if you think it’ll help.”
Wrinkling your nose at the thought, you made an unsure sound, “Right, because nothing says lunchtime like getting up close and personal with a homicide victim.”
“What lunchtime? It’s three pm in D.C. right now,” he caught you, a slight chiding tone in his words.
Ignoring his questions, you ask more of your own, “Was the body near water? Did they test the pH of the soil and water?”
There were more papers flipping, likely someone presenting the results of those tests to him, “Yeah, the soil was a five-point two and the water was a seven-point eight,” he listed off for you.
While your knowledge of the pH of the soil in Iowa was limited, you did know that those levels were pretty on par for the northern Mississippi River. “O-kay,” you say, extending your vowels, “and they didn’t find anything else on the scene that points to corrosive materials. Hydrofluoric acid?” You posit, “No, you know what – maybe you should send me those files. My work email is encrypted, you can give it to Penelope.”
He speaks to someone else in the room with him and you resist the urge to ask him if he’s enjoying Iowa, “It’s sent,” he confirms with you.
Pulling up your email only takes a moment, and once you get over the initial shock of seeing a dead body on your computer screen, you lift your lab glasses to the top of your head in order to get a better look. “I mean,” you think for a moment, “those look like alkali burns to me. I’ve never seen them on bones before, but you should do a litmus test to check either way.”
“So, we rinse it with water?” He asks, seeking instruction from you in a way that makes you feel oddly powerful.
Your eyes widen, “No, no, no. If it’s a metal compound then it’ll be covered in a mineral oil, so rinsing it with water would actually make the burn worse.”
Pausing for a moment, you consider the possibility that Spencer didn’t have the luxury of time – he was trying to solve a murder, not do experiments in a lab.
“Alkali burns can be serious, it all depends on what caused them, and most are helped by rinsing with water. So, unless you have the time to test for metal compounds, I’d go ahead and rinse it. You might want to brush the damage to the bones with a dry brush first. If there’s lime on the bones it’ll foam, which not only will corrode the bones even further but it might release a toxic gas,” you have no idea how the corrosion would interact with bone marrow, but something tell you that you don’t want to know
“Wait a minute,” Derek interjects, being included in the conversation now that Spencer put the call on speaker, “I thought things like alkaline water were good for you.”
You scoff instinctively, “Oh, there’s no definitive evidence that shows alkaline water as having any real health benefits. Especially not the benefits that the internet says it has.” Straightening up in your stool, you continue, “In fact, there is evidence from the NIH that says drinking alkaline water could cause kidney damage. There’s a particular-“
“My bad,” he interjects, effectively stopping your rambling before it really took off, “I forgot whose girlfriend I was talking to.”
Groaning at your new vexation, you huff, “Oh, fuck off, Derek. Go kick down a door.”
Spencer quickly switches the phone back, “Thank you, angel.”
Squinting at the photos that were still on your laptop screen, a crude, disturbing thought came to mind, “You know, sparklers can cause alkali burns. It might be something to consider because of the diameter of the burns.”
Your boyfriend was silent on his end of the call for so long that you had to check and make sure the call hadn't dropped. “Did you say sparklers?”
“Yep,” you confirm, “like the ones you can get everywhere this time of year.”
He says something to Morgan, placing his hand over the receiver so you can’t hear, “There’s only one spot in this town, though. I’ve gotta go, see you soon.”
“Stay safe, please! I prefer your bones unburned,” you rattle off into the phone before it clicks, placing the phone back on the stand and deleting the crime scene photos from your inbox.
The front door to the apartment opens and shuts quietly, with Spencer under the assumption that you already went to bed, he was surprised to find you on the couch, nursing a cup of tea. “Hey, baby,” he chirps, unusually peppy for this time of night.
“Hey,” you say half-heartedly, threading your fingers through the handle of the mug.
Your somber tone gets Spencer’s attention, “What’s wrong?”
The slight panic in his voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “Nothing,” you murmur. “It’s just… the woman who was in those pictures. There- the burns on her bones, they were signs of torture, weren’t they?”
You’d been thinking about the burns ever since Spencer showed them to you, “Yes,” he answers with a reciprocating softness, sitting down next to you on the couch. “The medical examiner concluded that she was burned antemortem.”
That woman had been burned alive by fireworks, sparklers had seared their way through skin and muscle until it finally met her bones. You blink a few tears from your eyes at the thought, “I like my lab, Spence.”
The confusion on his face was palpable, “I know you do.”
“I like my minimal human interaction and my chemicals, and I like knowing why certain things cause certain reactions. I like it when things make sense.” You take a deep, shaky breath, “Killing someone. Torturing someone with fireworks. That just doesn’t make sense to me.”
You had no interest in hearing the excuses that the killer had provided. You had no interest in hearing the psychological breakdown of that woman’s killer. Spencer knows that, “The photos got to you?”
Taking a sip from your mug, you nod solemnly, “I can’t stop thinking about the way it must have felt. Oh, the smell must have been horrible. That poor woman.” In theory, it was a ridiculous notion, killing someone with fireworks seemed neither probable nor possible. Yet here you are.
“But we got the person who killed her,” Spencer reassures you, resting his hand gently on your knee. “We couldn’t have done it without you,” he adds.
Your face warms at his compliment, “I wish I could have helped before she was killed.” You were grateful that Spencer hadn’t passed on any personal information about the woman, it was easier for you if you kept things in separate storage files in your mind.
Spencer hums, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “There’s always going to be another one. I’m sorry about the photos, I should’ve made sure Garcia only sent the necessary ones.”
Nodding absentmindedly, you look at him thoughtfully, “This will pass, but for tonight I just feel bad for the victim.”
“I can have Penelope share some of her favorite baby animal videos, if you’d like,” he offers softly, resting his head on your shoulder.
In return, you give him a small smile, “Well, I suppose it really can’t hurt.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#written by margot#chemist!reader
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Pretty please may we have more about Johnny finding your photos in older bf Simon’s phone?
continuation of this
so like i said about older bf!simon who saves all the photos and videos you send him because he likes having a lot to work with. no matter how fucking filthy it might be, he saves it right to his camera roll.
no albums, no hidden folder, no passcode (all things you need to show him when he’s home) photos of your naked body or videos of you humping a pillow and crying his name- all hanging loose in the photos app next to sweet photos of you two on date night or the screenshots johnny had sent him earlier.
that’s where this all went pear shaped, johnny had screenshotted the directions and sent them to simon’s phone. simon was busy assembling his weapon when johnny asked if he could grab those pictures off him.
simon had agreed (well he’d grunted but johnny knew him well enough to translate)
johnny’s thumb was working overtime to get to the screen with the photos app on it (simon doesn’t understand categorising apps so he has like three pages of them) and when he finally finds it, it was already open in the background (simon also doesn’t shut any apps, they’re always running in the back)
in hindsight, the fact johnny went quiet for once should’ve been a warning.
there, in soap’s hot little hand, was a photo of you that looked like it had been taken from the floor. your legs looked amazonian and the pair of knickers you had on hugged the curve of your ass like they were made for you. trailing all the way up your body until he could see your hands cupping your chest.
“jesus christ, L.T- the fuck is this?”
simon casually walked over to join him, looking over his shoulder and grunting again- this time in recognition.
“nah mate, the photos you sent are up ‘ere.”
not a care in the world.
as a long finger reached over to begin swiping through the photos, johnny’s head nearly spun off his shoulders as he was treated to an effective carousel of you in compromising positions.
videos of your legs spread, photos of you in simon’s clothing, close ups, long shots- johnny shifted on his feet in hopes he could adjust himself without hands, without raising alarm.
heat rising in his cheeks, he was close to handing the phone off and telling ghost he’d be back in 15 when a video began to autoplay with a missed swipe and johnny found himself jerking the phone so he could watch it play.
you were on your knees on the bed, back arched and hand between your thighs playing with yourself. your head was rested on the bed, looking back over your shoulder to lock eyes with the camera as a heady moan drifted off your lips.
“si- don’t be gone too long, need you to come home and fill me up”
soap could see stars, they were twirling round his head like somecunt had dropped an anvil on it. his eyes were fixed to the screen in front of him, unable to look anywhere else.
he was snapped back to attention by a dark snicker that came from just on his six. he swore he could feel ghost’s chin resting on his shoulder as the man spoke behind him.
“y’like that, huh? if you ask nicely, i’m sure i could get you one too.”
simon could be generous, but not that generous- you were still his, end of story. but that didn’t mean he couldn’t share something small with his closest.
especially when it was a video of you getting filled up at both ends, just silicone now but who knows what’ll happen when they come back?
#ANYWAYS wtf is wrong w me#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley blurb#simon ghost riley blurb#simon riley drabble#simon ghost riley drabble#johnny mactavish smut#johnny soap mactavish smut#johnny mactavish x reader x simon riley#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#older bf!simon
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‘SHE’S BUSY.’
tags: roommate! choso x fem!reader, choso has a tongue piercing, smut, ōral (f. receiving), choso is needy at the end, mdni.
a/n: the way this was supposed to be a short hc… w.c: 1.2k
+ likes and reblogs are appreciated 💜
roommate!choso who is madly in love with you but never wants to tell you because he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship you have.
roommate!choso who goes absolutely feral when he sees you dressing up to go on a… date?
“oh,” choso says, defeated, as you mention you’re going on a date with some guy you met through a mutual friend.
“do you think this is fine, cho’?” you ask, giving him a twirl of the dress that nicely hugs your figure. choso gulps at how stunning you look, feeling his heart beat faster.
“yeah, you look really good,” he says, continuing to eye you. oh, how he would treat you much better than that guy.
“i’ll show you the other dress- i can’t decide,” you say, returning to your room and shutting the door to switch between dresses.
roommate!choso who sits patiently in the living room, waiting to see your other outfit. should he make you show up late to the date or—
ding!
choso’s attention shifts to your phone that lit up twice. he wants to look so badly at the text but doesn’t want to invade your privacy, but—
ding!
choso looks around his surroundings as he picks up your phone to see the texts. he feels even more upset when he sees you saved the guy’s contact name as ‘j♡.’
‘ima call u’
just as choso finishes reading the message, you get an incoming call from him, and choso nearly panics. but he starts thinking about how badly he wants you to himself. he answers.
“hey beautiful, i—”
“sorry bro, she’s busy.” choso calmly says as he ends the call.
roommate!choso who knocks at your door as you’re still getting dressed to break the news to you, telling you that your date was spam calling to the point choso had to answer and said, “he canceled last minute.” you didn’t question choso because you knew you could trust him. little did you know…
roommate!choso who comforts you as you feel sad that he flaked on you. choso prepares a mini movie night, getting your favorite snacks and drinks while playing your all-time favorite movie. he makes sure you’re comfortable as he holds you tight in his arms on the couch as you lay on his chest.
“cho,” you say as he continues to rub your head, almost making you sleepy. he hums, “did you lie about him canceling?” you ask, feeling his heart beat quicken.
“yeah…” he says, not having any excuses as you giggle at his honesty.
“do you have feelings for me—”
“so fuckin’ bad,” he quickly answers as you both rise from your position, looking into his pretty brown eyes. at this point, the movie is just background noise as you two forget about it.
“do you want me?” you purr, and he nods rapidly, already getting up from the couch as he drops to his knees, parting your legs to make room for his broad figure.
you stare down at him as he pulls down your pajama shorts and panties, lifting your hips as he quickly throws them behind him. your legs are spread wide, resting on his shoulders, giving him full access.
choso moans as he sees your pretty cunt, giving your folds soft kisses. he’s about to lose his mind as his filthy dreams finally become reality.
you’re growing impatient as he’s basically teasing you, taking his time when you need him now. you tug at his silky hair, pulling it up to make him look at you. “cho—i need you,” you desperately say, and he feels himself grow hard at your neediness.
he doesn’t waste any more time as he dives into your cunt. your whole body jerks forward when you not only feel his tongue enter you but also the metal piercing on his tongue. the cold ball unexpectedly adds more stimulation, making you squirm as he snakes his arms around your thighs to keep you in place, growling into your cunt.
he brings one of his hands to your achy clit, rubbing tiny circles as you arch your back from the couch, moaning loudly from the double stimulation. it’s so fucking messy as choso loudly slurps your arousal, drool mixed with your juices coating his mouth and chin.
“f-fuck, cho, ’s too much,” you shakily say as he pulls away, arousal dripping from his chin as he looks up at you, his expression drunk on you. you unconsciously buck your hips closer to his face, wanting more as he chuckles darkly at your desperation.
he stares at your wet heat and slaps your cunt. your body jolts at the feeling as he repeatedly does it, hypnotized by the way your hole clenches at nothing. choso is starting to lose all sanity as your juices splatter all over his face and the couch. oh, how filthy this was.
“so fuckin’ good, baby, y-you’re so good,” he whines as he lays his tongue flat on your clit, your mind buzzing at the cold metallic ball. choso sucks hard on your clit, the piercing making you cry out in pleasure as it drives you to ecstasy. he slips two fingers deep into your pussy, knuckles deep as he curls them, thrusting in and out, loud squelches of your sloppy cunt echoing in your ears.
you���re already dumb from the intense simulation—the metal ball, his long fingers, his tongue. oh, how he loves your facial expression.
your legs begins to shake uncontrollably, feeling intense waves of your orgasm approaching rapidly as you shudder at the foreign feeling.
“‘m so c-close, cho,” you sob, tears streaming down your face as choso sucks harder at your clit. at this point, he doesn’t hear anything you say—he’s so caught up in his own head, only wanting to pleasure you, forgetting about his raging hard-on pulsating within his briefs.
your orgasm comes intensely as you feel yourself gushing arousal all over his face and the couch. your legs shake rapidly as you continuously spray his face. your vision is blurred as tears flood your eyes, crying out as your climax takes over you.
choso, on the other hand, kneels there, face covered in your cum, everything messy and lewd as his face and your cunt glisten in your arousal. fuckkkk, he thinks as he loses his mind.
“f-fuck, you’re a squirter,” choso moans as he watches your cum dribble down, leaving a pool of your mess soaking into the couch. “mmh, my pretty boy,” you manage to say as you bring a hand to pet his damp messy hair. but choso cannot seem to take his eyes off your sloppy cunt.
after a short tug, he finally looks up at you, quickly rising and smashing his lips onto yours, twirling his tongue around yours as you wrap your legs around his body, grinding his bulge against your bare cunt. you moan into his mouth at the friction, messily making out, tasting yourself on his tongue, your arousal from his face smothering onto yours.
“mhm, i-i’m your pretty boy,” he says as he pulls away from the kiss, looking at you, his face hazy from eating you out. “c-call me your pretty boy again,” he whines, blushing at the thought of being yours.
“my pretty boy—”
you’re interrupted as you hear your phone loudly ring and vibrate beside you. you both groan at the caller id: ‘j♡.’
roommate!choso who sends ‘j♡’ a selfie of both your fucked-out expressions, followed by text,
‘i told u she was busy.’
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#choso kamo#jjk choso#choso smut#choso x reader#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso kamo smut#choso x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader
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━━ ❝ it's sticky, toshi... ❞
ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : you help ushijima finally realize that he's got a breeding kink
ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...cw : u. wakatoshi x fem!reader, dirty talk, messy and wet, teasing, marathon sex, pet names, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy, ushijima can't stop cumming
ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : haikyuu save me, save me ushijima wakatoshi, SAVE ME !! anyways hi i spent 150$ on ushijima merch yesterday and i don't regret it, so say hello to my haikyuu phase coming back !!!
ushijima having a breeding kink isn't a surprise to you at all.
what is surprising is how long it takes for him to figure it out.
sure, at first it wasn't clear, but after being with him for so long, you quickly pick up on whenever he'd mutter in your ear as he slid his stupidly big cock inside of you, saying how badly he wished he could cum inside of you instead in the condom.
afterwards, he's so focused on cleaning you up and making sure you felt good and satisfied, you don't get a chance to question him on it. not that you were complaining, ushijima is so cute when he's asking if you need anything and constantly reminds you to get up and go use the bathroom.
it's even cuter when he realizes you can't walk.
"ah. i'm sorry, i didn't realize how hard i went...here, let me help."
eventually, you to suggest things to ushijima, trying to test out the waters with him.
you start by just asking if he’d want to fuck you without the condom, what he thought about cumming inside, even jokingly saying you’d make him a dad one day.
but it seems like that last part was swimming around his head for a while...he can't get the thought of you getting chubby and round with his kid out of your head. and knowing he'd be able to take care of you all the time? that thought alone made him shiver a little.
what can he say, he loves doting on you more than anything.
however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.
"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."
"..."
"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"
he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.
next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.
"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"
you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.
he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.
"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."
it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.
"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.
“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.
"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”
with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.
ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.
but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.
ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.
“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.”
“I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”
fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.
“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”
all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work
#ushijima x reader#ushijima wakatoshi x reader#ushijima smut#ushijima wakatoshi smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#ushijima x you#ushijima wakatoshi x you#haikyuu smut#hq x reader#hq smut#hq x you#🍉 ── wakatoshi.#˗ˏˋ ★ lxnarworks .ᐟ
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college bf! f1 drivers pt 1 ☆
summary: college bf! f1 drivers text messages with small written snippets based on the texts :)
warnings: fem pronouns, kys jokes, cursing, mentions of kissing, kissing, slightly suggestive, nicknames (baby, babe, love), typos (?)
read more below the cut !
charles leclerc
you grab a can of grape soda and search for a place to sit. you find a corner near the window, the fresh spring breeze rustling your hair. you sit down and wait patiently for charles. a few minutes later he's walking inside the canteen, towards you. he's smiling big and as soon as he reaches you, he grabs your face, placing chaste kisses on your cheek and lips.
"hey, baby" he greets you. you smile and reply "hi"
he takes a seat beside you and raises his eyebrows, like he's waiting for you to do something. you raise your eyebrows in return. he grumbles out a few words which you cannot decipher. you nudge him softly as you ask him to repeat. "i didn't get my kiss!" he says, rolling his eyes playfully.
"oh you big baby" you say as you grab his face a drop a few kisses on his cheek. your lipstick staining his cheek. you caress his cheek to wipe it away. "happy?" you question him. he nods, "very. afterall, i ditched my class to be here with you."
your smile fades a bit, feeling a little guilty as you had called him so abruptly. you shove him playfully, making him stand up "go back, the class would've just started. you can still make it"
he frowns. he shakes his head, "its not an important class, he's just doing some revision."
"revision is important! i just needed to see my boyfriend for a little boost. i'm good now. go!"
he reluctantly lets go. he places a kiss on your forehead and promises to come visit your dorm later in the evening. you smile up at him and reach for your soda, only to see it in charles' hand. he gives you a wink as he leaves, taking a sip from the can.
carlos sainz
the game had just ended, and you were so incredibly proud of your boyfriend. he had scored a goal for the team. the winning goal. you smiled in excitement, waiting for the team to let go of your boyfriend so you can congratulate him. he spots you standing nearby and excuses himself from his team mates. he walks over to you, picking you up as he reaches you.
you yelp in surprise and hold onto him tight. wrapping your arms around his neck, laughing. "congrats, baby. that was amazing!" he smiles brightly, kissing your cheek. "thank you, mia cara" he says. he puts you down gently and wraps his arms around you.
"you came" he says, kissing the side of your forehead.
"i wouldn't be anywhere else"
after a few seconds, you swat him away. "look at all that sweat. ugh get away from me" you complain, rolling your eyes playfully
he picks you up again, walking towards his car. "put me down, you sick fuck" you wrap your arms around him as he fastens his pace, making you laugh. "now i'm all sweat"
"gives us another reason to shower together" he says, a slight smirk making its way onto his face.
lewis hamilton
you pick your phone up as soon as you're done showering and putting on some comfortable clothes. you click on the face time button and set your phone up on the bed, pillows as the support. you wait for lewis to pick, which doesn't take long as he picks up in a couple of rings.
you smile at him "what's up, princess?" the words slip past you automatically, like you've said this to him a thousand times. which you have.
he grunts in mock annoyance. "come save me, i'm stuck here" he says, his face showing how he hated being in that party. you could hear loud snarky music in the background.
"i wish i could, i left my car for service" you smile at him apologetically. he groans and starts walking towards a balcony of some sort, or an open space. it was much more peaceful. you could hear him more clearly now.
"will you please stay with me on ft for a while? until my room mate decides to leave. which will be soon because he's drunk out of his mind." he says, sitting down on a stool. the night breeze making him shiver.
you spoke for a few minutes until his friend decided to leave. lewis said he'd be near your dorm after dropping his mate in the room. he said he desperately needed your hug.
george russell
you shared your live location with george. you were currently walking towards your dorm. you felt his strong cologne engulf you before his arms did. you smile as you walk with george, his arm draped around your waist. "well, hello there" you amuse.
"don't you ever scare me like that. do you know how much i died on the inside?" he questions you, giving your waist a squeeze. you kiss his cheek, hoping to calm his nerves. "i told you, baby! i fell asleep in the library. ms sanders woke me up. i was exhausted after that 12 page essay"
"its okay, i know. you need to rest, love. did you eat yet?" he questions, as you both enter your dorm.
you shake your head, "i had breakfast, slept through lunch"
he looks at you like you've grown two heads. he grabs your hand and starts walking towards the exit. you let out a chuckle "now where are we headed to, girl?"
he looks at you, giving you a mock glare. "girl? what happened to bf, love, baby, cutie?"
he tells you to wait near the exit. a few minutes later, he's there with his bike. he motions for you to hop on. you smile as you get on, getting comfortable behind him. "we are getting some food into that stomach of yours" he says, handing you your helmet.
you wrap your arms around his torso. you knew. you knew, even if he had the most important thing to do, he would drop it to look after you. not because you were his girlfriend. but because you were his priority. because you were important. and he was deeply, madly, desperately, messily in love with you.
max verstappen
you were in your university park, sitting under a tree. the guy you were supposed to be doing your political science project was doing anything but the project. you were not a patient person, and it was getting harder as the guy even kept touching your shoulder now and then.
to your rescue, your boyfriend was right there. he walked towards the both of you. he took his seat next to you, giving the guy a timid 'pls fuck of soon' smile. he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. he sat there as you guys actually started to discuss your project.
the guy clearly didn't get the hint as he still tried to make contact with you now and then. the third time, max was done with all the utter bullshit that he was witnessing. he pulled you closer to him
"you know, i would really like it if you got your stupid ass hand off my girl" he says, making the guy frown in annoyance. within seconds, the guy is scurrying off.
you let out a delayed laugh. you look up at max. he shrugs, giving you an innocent smile. "you can't actually say that, max!"
he kisses your forehead, whispering "i just did, baby."
he brushes your arm near the place where the guy touched you. "what are you doing?" you question.
"dusting off his filthiness from you. maybe we should get back to my dorm. shower the filthiness off after i watch you finish on my face." he offers his reply. you shove him playfully. "you're the filthy one"
he stares, kissing your lips softly, mumbling, "you make me."
the end
an: had so much fun making these. hope u enjoy!
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