#sorry this got long--just the dumb thoughts of a writer
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A moment of silence for the days where I could actually come up with creative/clever titles for my fanfic chapters.
#rhys-ravenfeather signing on#i've started reading a fanfic lately and only just noticed in the chapter i read today that the author gave titles to their chapters#meanwhile i didn't bother giving titles to the chapters of my own ahit fanfic :P#just chapter one two etc. :P#it's not really something i'm particularly sensitive or jealous of it's just kind of funny looking at it#given that my ahit au/fanfic is probably the one i'm most passionate about#all my creativity went into writing the actual story itself XD#though i come up with creative names for my open rp starters so i'll consider those a half-example?#i guess i could theoretically go back and come up with titles for my chapters and rename them#but tbh i think it's probably a bit late in the game for that...#and again i don't really feel like it's really that big a deal :P#though maybe i'll give the different oto chapters fun chapters when i publish it as a graphic novel#especially given the direction i ended up deciding to go with that story#and hey i didn't give the myth city chapters titles so that could also make up for that :P#sorry this got long--just the dumb thoughts of a writer
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Continuation of the Beast Peak Lord SY AU with SJ.
Click here for part 1
They both would have gotten to Cang Qiong a little later than everyone else. However, with SY there with SJ, SJ is less bitter with someone with him that is also a little bit behind on their cultivation. With SY there with SJ he never had to learn under Wu Yanzi so his cultivation core is only underdeveloped rather than shattered and pieced back together haphazardly.
When SJ first found out that SY got into the Beast Peak instead of Qing Jing he was absolutely upset. He went on long silent stint, ignoring SY until he couldn't take it anymore. Meaning that SJ broke first, despite being equally as stubborn as SY, and sought him out to talk.
Idk if I want to go into more detail about their disciple years. Maybe if I find the energy I will :). But when SJ first became Head Disciple and understood that would mean he would be the next peak lord he was hesitant to accept as he didn't want to leave SY behind. Thankfully SY, or course, being the top performer of his peak also became Head Disciple. I like to think they have this sappy promise when they first joined the sect (or even before when they met at the Qiu mansion whispering late into the night about far off plans of escaping and becoming more than what they are now) that they promised each other that they would get married when they became Peak Lords. But or course, it's only so that they could guarantee that they would both raise above their stations forced upon them at childhood. Yes, definitely not because they both started to realize that maybe they were the only two people on the face of the Earth that knew so much about each other without the fear of judgement. Or that they are so comfortable around each other than any other person. And to add some sparkle I think it would be hilarious if they did a small no-nonsense wedding that was just them and the officiator. And none of the other peak lords know about their marriage status and it somehow become unveiled at the most inconvenient time.
I haven't thought about how YQQ would fit into this but I'll figure it out...maybe. And I still want SY to be a transmigrator. Maybe his early arc could be that he's starting to learn that SJ had a more complicated past/ maybe this was like the rough draft of what SJ could have been. And SY is PISSED that readers were left without vital context to SJ motivations and even more so that SJ was delt the worst hand out of all the character. I also think it'll add a little flare with the system there or if like SY started out with the system and then gained enough points throughout his life to get rid of it idk. I do know for sure that when SY meets with SQH and finds out he's the author there is going to be less words spoken and more action taken lmao.
Sorry for the rambling. Again I'm a shitty writer and just had this AU stuck in my head that I needed to get out so all I got is drawing dumb doodles of this. I'll link the first part of this AU up at the top of this post incase y'all want to see the humble beginnings of this AU.
#svsss#shen yuan#svsss fanart#shen qingqiu#shen jiu#scumcum#disciple shen yuan#the most shitty AU writing ever because op is not a writer but desperately wishes they were
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CHAPTER FIVE: TELL HER

heart to heart series | vi x fem!reader
synopsis: vi doesnât take your response well, falling back into the one thing that always drags her down even furtherâalcohol. meanwhile, youâre left to reflect on your own reaction, struggling to figure out what it is you truly want. when jayce decides to give vi a reality check, she decides to pull herself together and sets her mind on planning something special.
content warnings: MDNI. slightly suggestive content, more angst, some fluff, hurt/comfort??, rockstar!vi, bookshop owner/writer!reader, exes to lovers, friends with benefits dynamic (kinda), so exes to fwb to lovers, alcohol/drinking, smoking, bestfriend!jayce, kissing, vi is sooooo in love ⌠if im missing anything else please lmk!
wc: 20,080 (slightly inaccurate since i made some edits)
notes: ok ok ok im so so so so sorry for the long wait when i kept saying that i was gonna upload this chapter soon. i have gotten so busy these past couple weeks with work plus taking care of my grandma, so iâve been struggling to write for a bit, but i finally got this chapter done! itâs also currently the longest chapter of the series, i hope i didnât stretch it out too long to the point it gets boring, but i hope you all enjoy it :) ty for ur patience! also lovely fanart by bunimint_ on IG !
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Her head fucking hurts. Sheâs lost count of how many drinks sheâs hadâwhiskey, mostly, the sharp burn of it sliding down her throat, but never really reaching that part of her that needs numbing the most. Besides that, the club is too loud. Music pounding through the speakers, some deep, bass heavy track that makes the floor vibrate beneath her boots. It was full of shouts, laughter, the clink of glassesâbut itâs all just noise.
Vi sits slouched in the corner of the bar, a cigarette tucked behind her ear, the smoke of someone elseâs drifting too close, burning her nose. The lights are dim, neon flickers bleeding red and blue across the bottles lined up behind the bar. She rubs at her temple, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the liquid swirling in her glass.
Itâs been weeks since she last saw you. Since she watched you pull away from her, watched you cry, watched you remind her of the rules she stupidly agreed to.
Your words ring inside her head.
Then, she takes another slow sip. It doesnât help.
Viâs phone buzzes against the surface of the bar, but she doesnât look at it right away. Itâs probably Ekko or Loris wondering where the hell she is, why sheâs ghosted them for the past few days. Or maybe itâs Steb sending her some dumb meme to make her laugh, like thatâs gonna fix the massive fucking hole in her chest.
It could even be her manager. Sheâs gotten too many calls from him this weekâall of them she ignored.
She swallows the thought down with the rest of her drink, signaling the bartender for another. She just sits there, drowning in the noise, wishing it was enough to make her forget you.
Her phone buzzes again. The screen lights up on the bar, her managerâs name glowing and flashing across the top of the screen. She watches it ring, until it goes silent.
Thatâs the fourth call tonight. The tenth this week. She doesnât bother listening to the voicemailsâshe already knows what he wants. She can already hear him over the phone, telling her that her timeâs up, and that itâs time to get back to work.
She used to jump into the thought of work.
But now, she doesnât even want to think about. All of it feels too big, too exhausting.
And, sheâd rather think about you.
And itâs fucked upâshe knows thatâbut youâre the only thing her mind keeps circling back to. She replays that night in her headâthe way you looked at her that night, standing there in your apartment, eyes glistening with tears, the way your voice cracked⌠the way you didnât say I love you back.
Vi knocks back the rest of her drink and taps the bar for another.
Sheâs drunk. She knows it. She drags a hand down her face, her and leans back forward against the counter.
Sheâs so fucking drunk, and still, the ache in her chest is sharper than ever.
âHoly shit⌠itâs Vi!â
Oh, for fucks sake.
âVi! From The Lanes!â
She doesnât look up. Doesnât move. Just grips the glass a little harder, teeth pressing into her bottom lip.
Of course. Of fucking course.
âGuys! Itâs Vi! Right over hereâcome look!â
A few heads turn. The manâsome guy she doesnât recognize, drunk off his assâwaves his arms like heâs discovered some kind of rare fucking animal.
âNo way.â
âVi? LikeâLike, Violet Lanes?â
âShit, get a pictureââ
Her head is pounding. The music is too loud, the lights too bright, and now there are people inching closer, whispering and grinning, phones already coming out.
She shoves her glass away from her, ice clinking too loud against the counter.
âNot tonight,â she mutters under her breath, voice rough, but the guy doesnât get the hint. Heâs still calling people over, still beaming like this is some fan meet-and-greet she didnât agree to.
âVi, manâyou gotta let me buy you a drink,â he says, his hand reaching out, like he might actually touch her shoulder.
Vi flinches back. âDonât.â
Her head is fucking killing her.
âFuck off,â she says, louder this time, not even bothering to look at them. âIâm not in the mood.â
The guy laughs, like sheâs kiddingâlike this is all part of the show.
But itâs not. Itâs really fucking not.
And he still doesnât take the hint. Heâs still grinning, still too close, and Vi can feel the heat creeping up her neck. Itâs the alcoholâmaking her blood too hot, her patience too thinâbut itâs also everything else.
âCome on, Vi,â he says. âJust one pictureââ
He touches her arm.
She shoves him back, not hard enough to send him flying, but hard enough to make a point.
âDonât fuckinâ touch me.â
The guy stumbles a little and his friends go quiet.
âVi, chillââ someone mutters.
She stands, the bar stool scraping back with an ugly screech. Her jaw locks, and sheâs already picturing how it would feel. Just one hit. Just to make him back off.
Her knuckles twitch.
But she doesnât.
She doesnâtâbecause she knows what happens if she does. Knows the headlines thatâll follow. Vi from The Lanes Punches Fan in Nightclub. Knows her manager will tear her apart the second she picks up her phone. Knows this asshole isnât worth the trouble.
âFuck,â Vi mutters.
She pushes past themâshoulders stiff, teeth grindingâignoring the half-hearted apologies, the drunken protests, the phones still aimed at her.
She doesnât stop until sheâs outside.
The air hits herâcold and wetâand Vi realizes it mustâve just rained. The pavement glistens under the glow of a flickering streetlamp, puddles pooling along the alleyway. The clubâs bass still thuds behind her, muffled now, but itâs better for her head.
Vi leans against the wall, bracing her palms against the rough brick, head hanging low.
And all she can think aboutâall she ever seems to think about these daysâis you.
Vi squats down, her back against the brick wall, the damp chill seeping through her jeans. She rakes a hand through her hair, then presses the heel of her palm against her temple. Her head tips back, hitting the wall with a soft and dull thud.
Sheâs not sure how long she stays like thatâseconds, minutesâbut then she hears the scuff of shoes against wet pavement, footsteps coming closer. She doesnât move, doesnât look up at first. Just stares at the ground, at the smear of neon reflected in a puddle a few inches from her boot.
Then the shoes stop.
Right next to her.
Dark brown leather, a little worn at the toes but still clean. Familiar.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â
Vi knows that voice.
She lets out a long breath through her nose, her jaw clenching once before she finally looks up.
Jayce stands there, hands in the pockets of his coat, his brows drawn tight in that way they always do when heâs about to give her a lecture. His tieâs a little loose, like he came from some fancy dinner or meeting, but heâs still all crisp lines and polished shoes, the perfect picture of a man whoâs got his shit together.
It pisses Vi off more than it should.
âHow did you find me?â she mutters.
Jayce lets out a sigh. Itâs not the kind of sigh that means heâs annoyed, though.
âChecked Vanderâs first,â he starts. âBut you werenât there. Then checked a few of the nightclubs in town⌠thereâs not that many, soâŚâ
âJust leave me alone, Jayce,â she huffs.
âCanât. Come on, Iâll drive you home.â
Vi doesnât move at first. She can feel his eyes on her, like heâs waiting for her to push him away again. She lets out a frustrated breath and drops her head back against the wall again. The throbbing in her skull hasnât stopped and her fingers itch for a cigarette
âI donât want to go home yet.â
Jayce sighs and thinks for a moment, weighing the options in his head. When heâs done deciding, he moves to stand next to her, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze lingering on the city lights in the distance, even though heâs not really looking at them.
Vi pulls out a cigarette, and lights it with her lighter, a cheap one, yellow and plastic, she bought at one when she stopped to get gas, the soft flare of the flame briefly illuminating her face before the smoke curls into the cool air.
Jayce doesnât say anything, just watches her. He knows sheâs not okay, knows that she hasnât been for a while now. But he doesnât push.
Vi exhales a long, slow breath of smoke, watching it twist and fade in the air. She wants to scream, wants to throw something, anything. Sheâs so damn tired of feeling like sheâs losing everything.
She glances over at Jayce from the corner of her eye. Thereâs concern in his gaze, but no judgment.
âI donât know what to do,â she whispers.
Sheâs not sure why she says it. Maybe itâs because sheâs drunk, maybe because Jayce is the only one who hasnât looked at her like sheâs already gone. Maybe because she needs to say it out loud for someone to hear.
Jayce doesnât respond right away. The alleyway smells like wet concrete and stale smoke, and Viâs head still pounds as she rolls the cig between her teeth, the taste of tobacco bitter on her tongue.
She hear Jayce shift beside her, leaning against the wall with a quiet sigh, âMel says that⌠____âs mad at you.â
Viâs lips curl into a smirk, slow and humorless. She lets out a sharp breath through her nose, shaking her head softly.
âUnderstatement of the century,â she says roughly.
She keeps her gaze fixed on the slick ground in front of her, a single puddle catching the glow of a distant streetlamp. Anything to keep from looking at Jayce. Anything to keep from seeing the pity thatâs probably written all over his face.
She can still hear youâyour voice, the way you said her name like it was a weapon.
I told you what this was, Violet.
She shakes her head at the thought of Jayce even being here. She doesnât need a lecture. She doesnât need a pep talk. She doesnât need someone else telling her how badly she fucked upâshe already knows.
âHave you talked to her at all?â
âJayce.â Vi furrows her brows, throwing her unfinished cig into the puddle she was staring at before standing and turning towards him, âWhat the fuck is this?â
Jayce doesnât flinch at her sharp tone, but he exhales through his nose and watches the cigarette fizzle out in the puddle, a tiny hiss of smoke rising and disappearing into air.
âIâm just asking,â he says softly.
Vi scrubs a hand over her face, her palm dragging down the length of her scarred cheek before she plants it firmly on her hip, the other hand raking through her already-messy hair.
âNo, what the fuck is this?â she repeats, louder this time. âDid Mel put you up to this? Did she tell you to come track me down and play therapist? Huh?â
Jayce tilts his head, his jaw flexing. âNo one put me up to anything, Vi.â
âBullshit.â
âItâs not.â His voice is firm when he speaks. âBelieve it or not, I care about you, Vi. I care about you and I care about ____. And, clearly, youâre spiraling.â
Vi lets out a bitter laugh, pacing two steps back and then forward again, like she canât stand still, like the walls of the alley are pressing in on her.
âYou donât know shit,â she snaps.
âDonât I?â Jayceâs voice hardens. âI know youâre drunk right now. I know that everyoneâs wondering where you are. I know that theyâre worried about you. Iâm worried about you. Just because you havenât been here for a while doesnât mean we donât care.â
Vi looks away.
âAnd everyone knows itâs because youâre still in love with her.â
âDonât,â she warns.
Jayce watches her carefully. âViâŚâ
She looks up at him then, eyes bloodshot and glassy, her throat bobbing as she swallows hard.
âJust leave it,â she mutters. âPlease.â
âTalk to her,â he says softly.
Vi lets out a bitter laugh, âShe wonât even fucking listen to me!â
Jayce clenches his jaw, but he doesnât move from where heâs leaning against the wall, watching Vi pace around right in front of himâsomething she recognizes her doing every time she was feeling hot headed.
âShe doesnât even love me anymore, so whatâs the fucking point?â Vi says again.
Jayce exhales through his nose, âYou donât know that.â
âTrust me, I do.â
Sheâs pacing again, boots scuffing against the wet pavement. Her hand twitches toward her pocketâprobably for another cigaretteâbut she stops herself.
âYou didnât see the way she looked at me,â Vi mutters, more to herself than to Jayce now. âLike I was a mistake. Like she regretted everââ
Her voice breaks off, and she presses the heel of her palm to her eye, like she can shove the tears back in before they even have the chance to fall.
Jayce watches her quietly for a moment, âViâŚâ
But Viâs already shaking her head, blinking hard.
âShe told meââ she pauses, swallowing hard. âShe told me she didnât want anything more with me.â
She lets out a shaky breath.
âAnd I said okay. I said fucking okay because I thought⌠I thought maybe if I just stuck around long enough, sheâd change her mind. That sheâd see that I stillââ
She cuts herself off again, biting down on the words before they can fully slip out. Her shoulders sag, head tipping back against the brick wall as she stares up.
âShe doesnât love me anymore,â Vi whispers, so quiet now that Jayce almost doesnât hear it.
He shakes his head, his brows pulling together. âYou really believe that?â
Viâs gaze moves awayâdown the alley, anywhere but him.
âVi,â Jayce says again, âIf she really didnât love you, you think any of this would hurt her so much?â
Her throat bobs. âShe doesnât even want to talk to me.â
âMaybe because itâs easier than admitting what she actually still feels for you.â
Vi lets out a shaky breath, running both hands through her hair now, tugging at the roots like it might pull the thoughts straight out of her head.
âLook⌠people donât get that angryâdonât get that hurtâunless they still care,â he says quietly.
Jayceâs voice softens as he steps closer.
âSheâs just scared, Vi.â
Vi opens her mouth to argue, to push back, but nothing comes out. She knows itâs true.
âSheâs not gonna let anything else happen unless she believes youâre really here to stay.â
Her heart beats heavy in her chest, and she feels Jayceâs words on her shoulders. And to be honest, sheâs scared, too. Scared to face everything sheâs fucked up. Scared of making another stupid mistake. Like asking for more with you, telling you she loves you, when you werenât even ready for it yet.
And maybe, just maybe, Jayce is right. Maybe she hasnât lost you completely. Maybe she still has a chance.
Vi leans her head back against the wall, her eyes closing for a moment as she lets out a long, shaky breath.
âJust get your shit together, Vi. You can talk to her whenever youâre ready,â Jayce says, kicking himself off of the wall, dusting his jacket off. âAnd be honest. If you just give her some time, sheâll think it through⌠And Iâm sure sheâll wanna talk to you about it⌠with whatever she decides.â
And for a moment, Vi looks at him, raising a curious eyebrow.
âYou got all this from Mel, didnât you?â
âFuck you.â
Vi smirk and shakes her head, turning away to think for a moment.
Minutes of silence pass between them and Jayce begins to think about what might be going on in that head of hers. Vi can be reckless sometimes, for sure, butâŚ
âI think⌠thereâs something I wanna do first.â

Lately, your phone has been more like dead weight in your pocket than anything else. It vibrates, it chimes but you donât check it. Not right away. Sometimes not at all. Itâs easier that way. You just canât. The screen lights up on the counter now, another message coming through, but you keep your eyes on the open book in front of you. You havenât turned a page in ten minutes. The words blur together, the sentences dissolving into meaningless shapes, but you keep staring anyway.
You already know whatâs waiting for you if you look.
Melâs worried messages. Your momâs reminders about dinner this weekend. And Viâyou donât even want to see her name glowing on the screen.
Now youâre staring right at it. And you donât even remember picking up your phone. But here you are.
The last message from her is still there: can we talk?
You never answered. Itâs been days. Probably weeks. Time feels weird latelyâslipping by too fast and too slow all at once. But that message lingers. Just like she always does. And fuck, you wish it didnât. You wish Vi didnât still take up so much space in your mind but she does.
And you know exactly why.
Because you still love her.
And thatâs what makes all of this so much worse.
But what would you even say? That it still hurts? That you still think about her? That no matter how much you try to push her away, sheâs still there in your mind, even when you told yourself time and time again that youâd forget about her.
Now, the days have started to blur together.
You wake up to the sound of your alarm, the same sound every morning but it still feels like a knife to your brain when your eyes flutter open. Just another day starting, just another reminder that you have to get up, have to keep moving. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, the sheets start to feel cold all over againâbecause thereâs never anyone there to warm the other side.
You donât think about it too much. Or at least, you tell yourself you donât.
Then itâs the bookshop.
The same key turning in the lock, the same creak of the door as it opens, the same scent of pages and worn leather covers. You used to love itâstill do, in a wayâbut the magic has dulled a little. Maybe itâs because youâre reminded of the way you started, when Vi was here to keep you company and help you out when the shop was just opening.
You water the plants by the front window, straighten the stacks of books people left behind in the wrong spots, flip the sign to Open. Some customers trickle inâa few regulars who smile politely, some who donât even make eye contactâand you help them find what they need, ring them up, thank them for coming.
And then itâs quiet again.
You check the time too often. Tell yourself not to, but you do. And itâs always slower than you expect.
By the time you flip the sign again and lock the door, the sky is a dark. Streetlights buzz faintly above you as you walk home every evening, your bag slung over your shoulder, your thoughts too loud.
And then itâs back to your apartment.
The place is too still when you walk in. You kick off your shoes, drop your bag by the door, and stand there for a second too long like youâre waiting for something. But nothing happens.
You shower. Eat somethingâusually whatever takes the least effort. And then you crawl into bed, the sheets still cold. Your phone sits on the nightstand. You donât look at it.
Then, you sleep.
And wake up.
And do it all over again.
And no matter how hard you try not to, you think about Vi.
It sneaks up on you, when the shop is quiet and the only sound is the soft flutter of a page turning, or when youâre lying in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, the space next to you too empty.
What is she doing? The question echoes in your head more often than youâd like.
Maybe sheâs packing her things right now. Shoving worn tees and jeans into a duffel bag, zipping it up without a second glance, like itâs easy. Like itâs nothing. Maybe sheâs already leftâgot on a bus or a plane, disappearing to some other big, fancy city.
She could. Vi could leave.
Maybe this time, though, itâs not about chasing a dream or a career. And maybe sheâs finally too defeated to fight for you anymore. Maybe this was the moment she realized thereâs nothing left to fight for. That she lost. That youâre gone.
But you were just protecting yourself, right? Werenât you?
Sometimes, youâd think about asking Mel for some more advice.
You love her. You really do. Sheâs always been the voice of reason. But tonight, even though you know sheâd pick up on the first ring, you donât call her.
Because you already know what sheâd say.
Sheâd sigh, probably a little exasperated but mostly concerned, and sheâd tell you that you need to talk to Viâreally talk to herâbecause this silence, this distance, is only making it worse. Sheâd remind you that you still love Vi, that itâs obvious to everyone, that pushing her away hasnât stopped that hurt in your chest or the way your thoughts circle back to her every damn night. Sheâd tell you that Vi is a mess without you.
You saw, peeking at one of her messages, that Jayce found her flat out drunk outside of a club one night.
And most of all, sheâd tell you that youâre scared.
But, you know all of this already.
So you donât call Mel.
You can lie to yourself about a lot of things. You can tell yourself that this distance is what you wanted. That you were the one who pushed her away, the one who set the rules, the one who told her no commitmentâand that Vi was only ever following your lead.
But what you canât lie aboutânot to yourself, not to anyoneâis how much you miss her.
Itâs a hard thing to admit, even when thereâs no one around to hear it.
It means that no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise⌠you still love her.
The truth might be hardest part.
Because, deep down⌠all youâve ever wanted was for Vi to be with you. Not just in pieces, not just in passingâbut wholly, fully.
Maybe itâs time to be honest with yourself.
Youâve spent so long hiding behind the walls you built, pretending that the space between you and Vi was what you wanted. You told yourself it was for the best, that it was easier this wayâno complications, no expectations, no getting hurt again. But you know for a fact that itâs all been a lie.
Because every time you push it away, every time you convince yourself itâs better to stay away, it only gets harder to ignore what youâre really feeling.
So, maybe itâs time to stop running from it. Maybe itâs time to stop pretending that you can move on when all your heart wants is to turn back, to let her back in.
Maybe you should be honest with Vi.
You owe it to yourself. You owe it to her. No matter how much you try to tell yourself otherwise, you know you canât keep living like this⌠canât keep hiding behind you r feelings. Youâve already spent years hurting yourself trying to ignore it.
And it might be terrifying. But for the first time in a long while, you wonder if maybe thatâs the way forwardânot hiding, not pretending, but facing whatâs been there all along.
And maybe thatâs why youâre standing outside of this club in the middle of the night, the cool air biting at your skin.
You didnât even realize how you ended up here. It almost felt like an out-of-body experience. Your feet carried you here on their own. You didnât plan itâhell, you didnât even really want to come.
You called Jayce earlier, your voice shaky even though you tried to hide it. Just a simple question. Whereâs Vi?
His response was almost too quick. He didnât even seem surprised you were asking.
And now, here you are. Outside the club, standing out in the open, feeling like a fool.
What the hell are you doing here?
You donât know if itâs courage or madness that brought you to this here, but now that youâre here, you feel a little paralyzed. Thereâs a lump in your throat, your hands cold as you wrap them around your arms for warmth. Your thoughts are racing, but theyâre all tangled up. Should you go in? What if sheâs not here? What if she sees you and walks away?
You could turn around and go home. You could pretend none of this ever happened, that you never came searching for her.
But, before you could even take a step forward towards the door, Vi stumbles out.
You freeze in place, your breath catching in your throat as you watch her. A cigarette dangles loosely between her lips, the smoke trailing behind her as she stumbles just a little. Sheâs not looking where sheâs going, lost in whatever space sheâs in, completely unaware of you standing there.
For a second, it almost feels like you shouldnât be here. Like you shouldnât even be watching her like this, as if youâve caught some part of her that wasnât meant for you to see. She looks⌠tired. Defeated, almost. And youâre left standing there, staring at her, your heart pounding in your chest like itâs going to break through your ribs.
Vi stops a few feet away, her hand fumbling with the cigarette, eyes still unfocused as she exhales a cloud of smoke. Then, finally, she looks up, and when her eyes meet yours, itâs like everything comes crashing back.
Her face softens just slightly. She doesnât say anything right away, but the look in her eyes makes your heart race. She opens her mouth, as if to say something, but the words seem to die before they can leave her lips.
Vi takes a step toward you, then stops herself, like sheâs unsure if she should. Her eyes flicker between you and the ground, her fingers twitching at her side as if she wants to reach out but canât bring herself to. The cigarette is still hanging from her lips, now forgotten, burning down to nothing. She takes a long, slow drag from it and then finally tosses it to the ground, grinding it out beneath her boot with a soft sigh.
âWhy are you here?â
She didnât say it in a mean way⌠just⌠curious. And confused.
You look at her and answer honestly, quietly, âI donât know.â
âYou donât know?â she repeats.
You shake your head slowly, âI donât.â
Itâs true, though. You donât really know why youâre here. Maybe itâs because you missed her. Maybe itâs because you donât want to lose what little of her you still have left. Maybe itâs just the way your heart aches every time you think about her, every time you let yourself wonder if thereâs a chance to make things right again.
Vi stares at you for a moment, her eyes searching, like sheâs looking for something in your face that might give her an answer. And just when you think sheâs about to pull away, retreating back into the walls sheâs built around herself, she steps closer. Her hand rubs the back of her neck, that nervous habit of hers. She looks at you, then away, and you can tell sheâs trying to figure out whether this is real or just a dream in her mind, watching it like itâs in front of her.
âI⌠donât know what you want from me,â she says quietly.
You open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. Instead, you study her face. Her eyes look tired, a steady frown on her lips as she looks at you, dazed.
âMaybe, we should talk about this laterâŚâ you murmur softly. âWhen youâre sober.â
âIâm not drunk,â she says too quickly.
She opens her mouth again, but her words falter, as if sheâs trying to convince herself more than you.
âIâm notââ she starts again, but her voice sounds quieter than before, and she trails off.
You sigh and take a step back, keeping the distance between you just enough to give her space, but not too far away to make her feel abandoned. For a brief moment, she looks like she wants to protest all over again, like she wants to tell you sheâs fine, that sheâs been through worse and this doesnât bother her.
But instead, her eyes soften, just slightly. Her lips tighten, and she simply nods, though itâs a reluctant one.
You take a late bus ride home with herâback to that old neighborhood you both used to live in.
The bus ride felt like it stretched on forever, the city lights flickering past the window in flashes of neon and fading streetlamps but none of it mattered.
Not when Vi couldnât take her eyes off of you.
She hadnât said anything in the last few minutes. She didnât know what to say. But her eyes were glued to you, tracing the soft curve of your profile as the light hit your face. She wanted to reach out, to touch youâher fingers aching for soft feel of your skin. She wanted to press her cheek against your shoulder, close her eyes, and breathe you in like she used to. The simple, familiar warmth of you against her. She wanted to hold your hand, to intertwine her fingers with yours, but the fear of rejection all over again kept her frozen in place.
So instead, she just stared.
Her eyes lingered on you, taking in every small detail, from the way your hair fell softly around your face to the way you absentmindedly tapped your fingers against your knee, to the way your lips press together tightly for a quick second whenever you were lost in thought. Everything about you felt so familiar, so desperately close, but so far out of reach.
When the bus finally pulled to a stop and you both got off, Vi still didnât say anything.
The neighborhood looked the same as it always had, the houses standing like quiet sentinels on either side of the street, the trees lining the road, long shadows just beneath them.
She walked beside you, close, her steps almost too quiet. She couldnât help herselfâher eyes kept darting to you, taking in the way you held yourself, the way your shoulders shifted ever so slightly when you took each step.
And when you reach Vanderâs house, Viâs childhood home standing just in front of your motherâs, Vi felt her heart race again. She wanted to ask if you were okay, wanted to say something, to close the gap between the two of you.
But then you stop walking, just as your reach the end of Viâs driveway, turning to look at her. Her eyes meet your immediately and you know for a fact that Vi didnât want you or her to go anywhere.
âYou should go,â you say politely, nodding your head towards the house behind her.
It wasnât meant to push her away, not exactly, but you both knew how fragile things were between you at the moment, and you werenât really sure what else to say. What else could you say?
But Vi didnât move, didnât take the step toward her front door like you had expected. She just stood there, staring at you, her face unreadable as she fidgeted with her hands, unsure of herself.
Finally, her voice cuts through, âDo you wanna come in?â
Viâs voice trembled, just a little, as if she wasnât sure whether she should have said it at all. Her eyes searched yours, looking for somethingâpermission, maybe reassurance. It was so different from the confident, stubborn woman youâd once known.
A hundred things flashed through your mind in an instant: the memories of Vi in this house, her old bedroomâlaughing, arguing, falling asleep on her couch, her bed with her arm around your shoulders, the sound of her voice soft in the dark.
But all those thoughts felt so far away now, like a dream you could barely reach.
âMaybe not tonight,â you whispered.
She nods.
Not tonight. Vi tries to study your face, like she wasnât sure what your words meant. But her gaze softened, and the slight tremble in her hand betrayed how much this moment mattered to her, how much she needed somethingâanythingâfrom you.
She take a breath before muttering, âI miss you.â
Those three words were almost enough to knock the breath out of you.
Vi waited, her eyes never leaving yours. She stood there offering something you still werenât sure you could takeâor something you werenât sure you should take.
You shook your head, the concern rising again, but your heart already knew the answer.
âYouâre drunk, Violet,â you whisper softly, not wanting to be harsh, butâ
âJust because Iâm drunk doesnât mean I donât miss you,â she said.
Your breath hitched in your throat, the distance between you closing with every word she spoke. Maybe it was the way she looked at you. Maybe it was the fact that you missed her too.
But still, you hesitated, unsure of what to say back.
âViâŚâ you started, but the words didnât come easily, and you could see the way she stiffened, like she was bracing for the rejection she expected.
Her eyes softened and she sighed, before taking a step back, giving you some space.
She nods again.
âWhen Iâm sober,â she says.
âYeahâŚâ you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.
Viâs looking at you, waiting, her breath uneven, her hands twitching at her sides like she wants to grab you, pull you in, make you understand. But all you can do is swallow the lump in your throat and try to call yourself, even though your heart seems to be pounding so loudly in your chest.
You nod your head towards her house again. âYou should go inââ
âYou first.â
You sigh, already knowing Vi wonât budge. It was familiar.
Back in high school, after nights when sheâd take you out on a date, take you home after some school dance or game, whatever it was, she always made sure you got home safely, watching you outside of her own house as you stepped into yours. And itâs only when she sees the door shut after you when she finally turns on her heel and goes home.
âCan I call you?â she asks, just as you turn to walk away.
You stop. Your heart skips, and you let out a soft breath before turning halfway, catching the way sheâs already bracing herself for a no.
Buy you look back at her and smile softly, âWhen youâre sober?â
The corner of Viâs mouth twitches, but the smile never really makes it, âYeah.â
Your game lingers on her for a moment, watching as she stuffs her hands into the pocket a off her jacket.
âGoodnight, Violet.â
You donât look back this time. You just keep walking, the night quiet except for the soft scuff of your shoes against the pavement as you head towards the house a cross the street.
Vi stays frozen at the edge of her driveway, watching your silhouette disappear behind the front door of your old house.
Three days pass since you same her that night. Watching her stand there, half-dazed from the alcohol, eyes tracing, trying to memorize each and every detail of you.
You wondered if she remembered. Did she? Or did she wake up, head pounding, wondering how she even got home?
You try not to think about it, but you really canât help it. You canât stop the thoughts that slip into your mind. You wonder if sheâs forgotten about it. If sheâs forgotten about you.
But a big part of your heart doesnât let you believe that.
You know itâs a foolish thought, itâs hard not to think about. You wish sheâd call. Just to hear her voice, even if itâs only for a minute.
Then, she does.
Itâs late when your phone buzzes, and the sound startles you. Youâve been lying in bed for what feels like hours. Youâre not sure what you were expecting tonight, but it certainly wasnât this. Not at this hour.
When you glance at the screen, your heart skips a beat.
You stare at the name for a moment.
Itâs been three days. Three silent days. Your thumb hovers over the screen, uncertain, as if maybe itâs some mistake. Maybe itâs just some fluke, a wrong number or a dream.
But itâs her name.
Your thumb is already swiping across the screen, and before you know it, youâre answering, âHello?â
Itâs quiet for a moment on the other end, and you wonder if sheâs second-guessing this, if sheâs having the same hesitations you did before she called. You can almost hear her breathing, like sheâs trying to find the right thing to say.
âHey,â she says.
You sit up in bed, your eyes closing as you press the phone closer to your ear.
âSorry, I know itâs lateâŚâ
You swallow, your mouth dry. âItâs okay.â
âI⌠Iâm sober,â she lets out a shaky breath.
You canât help but smile softly. She remembered.
âThatâs good, Vi.â
She sighs on the other end.
âIâve been thinking about you a lot⌠butâŚâ She hesitates, âI⌠I want to talk about it in person.â
In person.
âWhen?â you say nervously.
âUh, can you come by Vanderâs tomorrow? After work? I-If youâre working, I mean. Or whichever day youâre free.â Her voice is soft, nervous, like sheâs afraid youâd say no.
You nod to yourself, though she canât see you. Your heart races as you say quietly, âIâll go after I close the shop.â
âYeah⌠okay.â
Thereâs another pause, and then Viâs voice comes through again, quieter than before.
âI miss you.â
You probably shouldnât say it, but you do anyway.
âMe too.â
On the other end of the line, Vi lies flat on her back in her childhood bedroom, the phone pressed tight against her ear, her free hand draped over her face as if that could somehow hide the flush creeping up her neck. Sheâs staring at the ceilingâat the faint cracks in the paint, the old band posters she put up when she was seventeen, the ones she never bothered to take down. It smells the same in here, but now with the faint scent of the cigarettes she now smokes outside but somehow still manages to drag in with her.
Her heart is racing and it almost feels stupid, how nervous she is, how her whole body feels like itâs buzzing, like sheâs back in high school, lying in this exact room, talking to you on the phone late into the night, whispering so Vander wouldnât hear that sheâs awake past midnight.
And Vi swears her heart stumbles in her chest when she hears your voice, her hand dragging down her face. Sheâs blushingâfull-on red as a damn tomatoâand itâs so ridiculous that she actually closes her eyes, biting back a smile, because itâs you. Itâs always been you.
Her voice is quieter now, rough but tender, the words slipping out before she can think too hard about them.
âReally?â She asks softly, the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Your cheeks instantly get hot and your clear your throat before quickly saying, âSee you tomorrow.â
The line goes dead before she can even get a word out.
And then, Vi smiles.
The soft beep of the call ending echoes through her room, and for a second, she just lies there, blinking at the ceiling, the phone still in her hand. Then, she drops the phone onto her chest. You blushed. She heard it in your voice, before you hung up so quick.
Sheâs nervous. And she can only hope everything she planned, goes well.

The sky is a deep orange when you close up shop and start your walk towards Vanderâs bar. The air is warm but it was cooling fast, a breeze slipping beneath your jacket and brushes against your bare legs.
You donât know how long youâve been standing here when you arrive, outside of The Last Drop, just staring at the worn sign hanging above the door, just like you did the time Vi asked you to come on Benzoâs birthday. The neon letters are bright against the brick wall, hanging just above the door.
You tug your jacket a little tighter around your shoulders, the simple dress beneath it fluttering lightly with the wind. Itâs nothing fancyâyou told yourself you didnât dress up for this. Didnât want to. That you wouldnât. But thereâs still a small part of you that combed through your closet this morning for something just nice, pretty enoughâsomething Vi might notice anyway.
The street is mostly empty, just a few people lingering further down, the occasional sound of a car passing by. The barâs windows glow dimly from the inside, soft lights spilling out onto the sidewalk, but itâs quietâjust a bit early for the late night crowd.
And from where youâre standing, you canât tell if Vi is even here.
You swallow, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, biting the inside of your cheek as your eyes stay fixed on the door. It would be so easy to turn around, walk back the way you came, head home to your apartment and pretend you never came here at all.
But your feet donât move. You promised yourself that youâd be brave. And honest.
So, you step in.
The door creaks softly as you push it open, and the scent of old wood and faint cigarette smoke wafts over you. The bar is quieter than you expectedâjust a few regulars hunched over their drinks, the clink of glasses and the low hum of some rock song playing through the crackling speakers filling the room.
Vanderâs behind the bar, wiping down a glass with a rag, his broad frame taking up space behind the counter just as you remember. His beardâs a little grayer now, but his eyes still looked the sameâthe kind that always made you feel welcome, even on the nights when you and Vi would stumble in after one of your countless fights after school, both of you pretending you hadnât just spent the walk here arguing, bantering, even though he knew that youâd make up an hour later.
The door swings shut behind you with a soft thud, and Vanderâs head lifts at the sound.
âHi, Vander,â you greet.
âWelcome back,â he says with a smile. âViâs out back. Had her help with some of the new supplies that came in today.â
You manage a small smile, tugging your jacket a little closer around yourself, unsure what to say. But you donât have to, because before you can even open your mouth, Vanderâs already turning, peeking his head into the small kitchen behind the bar.
âVi!â he calls out.
Your heart jumps.
A clatter sounds from the back; a faint curse, something heavy being set down and then thereâs the sound of footsteps, slow at first, then quicker, like she was rushing.
And all you can do is stand there, staring at the kitchen door, bracing yourself for the moment she walks through it.
The kitchen door swings open just enough for Vi to peek out, her shoulder braced against the frame, and the moment her gaze lands on you, standing there, soft and still and backlit by the dim glow of the bar lightsâher heart skips.
Her hair is a mess, unruly and half-falling out of the loose, low, short ponytail she mustâve tied back hours ago. Thereâs a smear of flour or maybe grease across her forearm, and her knuckles are dusted with something darkâsoot from the ancient stove, probablâand for a second, Viâs painfully aware of how she must look. Like she just climbed out of a fight with the kitchen itself.
And then thereâs you.
Viâs lips partânot because she knows what to say, but because she doesnât. She just stares for a beat too long, her chest rising and falling a little too fast, her fingers tightening around the edge of the doorframe.
âUhâŚâ She finally says, like it had to fight its way out of her throat.
Her brainâs moving too slowâstill caught somewhere between how pretty you look and how completely unprepared she suddenly feels.
You donât say anything yet. Just look at her with those wide, unreadable eyesâthe ones that always made her feel like you could see right through her. Vi swallows. Her free hand rakes through her hair, trying to smooth it down, but it only makes the strands stick up more, and she curses softly under her breath. You smile just a little and itâs enough to knock the air right out of her lungs.
Viâs voice cracks just a little when she stammers, âO-One sec. Let me get my things.â
Then, before you can respond, she disappears back into the kitchen like sheâs running from a fire.
You hear a clatter againâsomething metal hitting the floor. Thereâs a shuffle of movement, the sound of a zipper being yanked too hard, and then Viâs voice again, muffled: âShitâwhere the hellââ
You stand there, still, your fingers idly brushing the hem of your jacket as Vander watches from behind the bar with an amused smirk, wiping down another glass. The warm hum of the bar seems distantâthe soft chatter of conversations, the scrape of a chair against the floor but all you can really focus on is the faint noise of Vi scrambling around in the back.
Sheâs nervous. Youâve known her long enough to tell.
And you are too.
When Vi reappears, sheâs breathlessâhair still a little disheveled, but free from they messy, low pony she had on earlier, cheeks a little flushedâbut sheâs shed the dirty apron, now holding a leather jacket in one hand and shoving her phone into her back pocket with the other. Her boots scuff against the floor as she stops just short of you, swallowing hard.
âOkay,â she says, like sheâs still catching up to the moment. Then, with a quick glance down at herselfâlike sheâs realizing, too late, that she still smells faintly of smoke and whatever the hell she was cooking back thereâVi clears her throat. âUh⌠ready.â
You blink at her, tilting your head slightly. âAre we going somewhere?â
Viâs eyes widen and for a split second, she looks like a deer caught in headlights.
âOh, right! Y-Yeah,â she stutters, the words tripping over themselves. Her gaze darts to the window, like sheâs only just noticing how the sky outside has deepened from soft orange to dusky purple, the last light of the sun slipping away. âI⌠I wanted to show you something.â
She doesnât elaborate.
Your lips part slightly, a question at the tip of your tongueâbut you donât ask. Not yet.
Instead, you watch as Vi fiddles with the zipper of her leather jacket, her fingers twitchy and restless. She keeps stealing glances at you when she thinks youâre not looking and then drop to the way your dress falls around your legs, soft and simple, before she hastily looks away again like sheâs scolding herself.
Sheâs nervous. Itâs endearing.
You smile gently, adjusting your jacket over your shoulders, and let the silence stretch just a little longerâenough to make Viâs throat bob as she swallows hard.
âIs it far?â you ask softly, finally breaking the silence.
Viâs gaze snaps back to yours. âIts, uh, a bit of a drive⌠but not too far. Promise.â
You give her another small smile and nod. âOkay.â
Relief flashes across Viâs face so quickly you almost miss it. She steps back, motioning toward the door with a jerk of her chin.
âCome on,â she says. âItâs better if I just show you.â
Vi leads you through the back door of the bar, her hand hovering near the small of your back but never quite touching, like she wants to guide you but thinks better of it at the last second. Itâs a bit colder outside now, the heat slipping away into a soft breeze.
Her truck is parked there, a beat-up thing that looks like itâs seen better daysâfaded red paint, a dent in the front bumper, a sticker peeling off the back window. Just like you remember. And without a word, Vi steps ahead, pulling open the passenger side door for you. You climb in, the worn leather seat creaking softly under you, and Vi closes the door carefully, before roundjng the truck and jogging over to the driverâs side.
Thereâs a beat of silence got a momentâjust the two of you sitting there. Then Vi reaches forward, twisting the key in the ignition. The truck starts, and the radio clicks onâlow music filtering through her old speakers, some soft, indie song you donât recognize. And itâs quiet enough that you can still hear Viâs shaky breath as she shifts into gear and pulls out of the lot.
The drive is silent, for the most part.
You steal a glance at Vi, the way her fingers flex around the steering wheel, her thumb tapping against it. Her jaw is tight, her left knee bouncing ever so slightly.
Sheâs nervous. Extremely.
She hasnât looked at you once since you got in the truck. Not directly. But her knuckles are white where they grip the wheel, and you can tellâsheâs thinking about you.
âYou okay?â you ask softly, not because you donât know the answer, but because you want to hear her say something.
Viâs fingers tighten around the wheel.
âYeah,â she says too quickly. âYeah. Just⌠thinking.â
Thinking.
You donât ask about what.
Instead, you just turn your gaze back to the road ahead, watching as the lights of the town blur past. The road twists and turns as Vi drives, the town slowly fading behind, buildings growing fewer. The truck hums along, the music still playing softly through the speakers, though neither of you has said much since you left the bar.
You glance at Vi again, at the way her fingers grip the wheel, her jaw working like sheâs chewing on a thousand words but swallowing every last one. Sheâs tense, sure, but thereâs something kind of bright in her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching like sheâs holding back a smile.
You begin to wonder nowâWhere are we going?
But then⌠you start to notice the way the road curves just so. The familiar slope of the hill you know all too well. The buildings growing further and further now in the rearview mirror, until thereâs nothing left but open sky and that long, winding road that stretches upward on the hill.
Thereâs no way, you think.
But⌠you can see it from here now.
That old drive-in movie theater at the top of the hill, long abandoned but still standing. The massive, weathered screen towers above the lot, cracked and peeling but somehow still proud. Rows of broken, overgrown parking spaces stretch out before it, grass pushing through the cracks in the ground.
Itâs exactly the same. Older. But the same.
And suddenly, you remember the nights spent here, years agoâsneaking in after hours when the place had already shut down, lying on the hood of Viâs old car, watching the stars instead of whatever movie was playing, because Vi could never really sit still long enough to actually watch anything⌠especially with you there next to her.
It was the first date she took you on, after years of growing up together, secretly crushing on each other, after finally confessing to you when sophomore year had barely started. She took you here, soon after Vander had gifted her the truck on her sixteenth birthday. She saved up for weeks, trying to make it all perfect, grabbing dinner at that pizza place you like, picking flowers in some random field after band practice and giving it to you when she finally mustered up the courage to ask you out. You remember the way sheâd steal glances at you instead of the screenâthe way her fingers would twitch like she wanted to touch you but didnât know if she should. The way sheâd finally work up the courage, lacing her pinky with yours, cheeks flushed even in the dark. You kissed her here for the first time, surprising her, and not only did Vi fall more in love with you, she fell in love with kissing you.
And nowâhere you are again.
Vi pulls the truck into the middle of the lot, the perfect spot for a good view of the screen, before cutting the engine.
Silence.
The sound of the radio dies, leaning only the distant chirp of crickets and the faint whisper of the wind through the grass.
Viâs fingers are still curled around the steering wheel, like sheâs gathering the courage to let go.
Finally, she clears her throat.
âI, uh⌠I thought we couldââ She stops, shakes her head, then tries again. âI just⌠I used to bring you here all the time, remember?â
Her voice is quiet. Tentative.
You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of your jacket.
âYeah,â you whisper. âI remember.â
Vi lets out a shaky breath, her thumb still tapping nervously against the steering wheel.
âI thought this place shut down a couple years ago,â you say, looking out the window.
In fact, you knew it did. You came here from time to time, while you and Vi were still datingâwhile you were here, and she was off far away chasing her dream. Youâd come here alone from time to time when you were missing her, maybe in between months to watch a movie to pretend she was with you. You liked doing that.
But, the people who ran this place decided to shut it down, you heard. Bad business. Less and a less people coming. Not enough money coming in to keep this place running.
Your heart broke with it.
âIt looks clean,â you say, eyes scanning what looked liked freshly cut grass and no sight of trash littered across the field.
Vi clears her throat before speaking again.
âI⌠I actually spent a few weeks getting this place fixed up,â she says quietly, glancing at you nervously.
Your heart skip another beat.
âYou⌠What?â you ask, barely above a whisper.
She shifts in her seat, her thumb still twitching against the wheel, a nervous habit you recognize all too well. Her other hand scrubs at the back of her neck, and you catch the faintest hint of red creeping up from her collar, disappearing beneath the jacket sheâs wearing.
âI, uh⌠yeah,â she mumbles, eyes darting to the dark screen towering above you both, the massive structure still cracked and weathered but now oddly⌠clean. Cleared of the overgrown vines and layers of grime that once clung to it like a second skin.
Vi lifts her gaze back to you, âI figured I could fix it up.â
You blink at her.
And she clears her throat again.
âEkko, Steb, Loris⌠even Jayce. They all helped. Took a couple weeks to clean the place up. Three days just this week to make sure everything was workingââ She stops herself, clears her throat. âThe projector, I mean. Itâs old, but⌠we got it running again.â
Your mouth opensâthen closes.
Because suddenly, itâs so clear.
The smudges of grease on Viâs fingers when she rushed out of the kitchen earlier tonight. The faint streak of dirt on her shirt. The way she kept checking the sky, the timeâso desperate to get you here after the sun completely set.
Sheâd been working on this for you.
Your throat feels tight.
âYou did all of this?â you whisper.
âYeah,â she breathes, nodding nervously. âI just⌠I wanted to bring you back here. I thought maybe⌠we could talk here. And itâs quiet, so...â
She laughs softlyâbitterly, almost.
âOr, yâknow⌠we donât have to talk, if you want. We could just sit here. Stare at the screen. Like we used to.â
Your chest aches.
Because Vi isnât just showing you this placeâthis isnât just about an old drive-in movie theater. Itâs about all the time she lost, all the ways sheâs trying to piece something back together. Sheâs standing in the ruins of what you once had, and instead of walking away⌠sheâs trying to build something new.
For you.
You swallow hard, fingers tightening around the edge of your jacket as you glance back at the screen, the rows of parking spots, the cleared out grassâeverything Vi touched, cleaned, and fixed looking back at her.
âViâŚâ you whisper, but you donât know what to say.
The smile tugs at your lips before you can stop it.
You donât realize how long youâve been staring at each other until you quietly say, âCan you put a movie on?â
It takes Vi a second to noticeâlike she wasnât expecting itâbut when she finally turns her head and really looks at you, her own smile creeps up slow. Itâs tentative at first, like sheâs afraid to let herself feel too much, but then it grows brighter and wider, spreading across her face until her dimples flash like sheâs suddenly seventeen again, sitting in front of you with a heart too full to control.
âY-Yeah,â she stammers, the excitement in her voice is clearâimpossible to hide. âYeahâuh, just gimme a sec.â
And then sheâs movingâquickly, almost tripping over her own feet in her rush to get out of the truck. She doesnât even bother closing the door properly, leaving it cracked open as she jogs across the lot, her jacket nearly slipping off one shoulder as she reaches the small booth tucked at the back of the theaterâthe projector room.
You watch her climb up the short set of metal stairsâtwo at a timeâbefore fumbling with the old lock on the door, muttering something to herself when it sticks for a moment. She manages to shove it open with a rough push of her shoulder, disappearing inside.
For a moment, itâs quiet.
Then, after a few seconds, a faint flicker of light appears on the blank screen in front of you.
You lean back in the seat, your heart still beating a little too fast, watching as the screen brightens as the picture starts to settle. A movie startsâand you smile, shaking your head as the music fills your ears before anything else. Star Wars: A New Hope.
And a few seconds later, Vi comes sprinting backâslightly breathless, a wide grin plastered across her face as she throws herself back into the driverâs seat.
The iconic opening is already rolling, those bold yellow letters floating through the starry sky, the score blasting through the old speakers Vi mustâve rigged back to life.
You remember the way she used to kiss you during the this movie. How sheâd slip her hand into yours when Leia appeared, saying something cheesy like, âYouâre prettier than her,â and youâd roll your eyes, laughingâbut your heart would race, and youâd kiss her in the cheek anyway.
You smile again.
And Vi notices.
âWhat?â she asks, a little shy, like sheâs bracing herself for you to tease her.
You shake your head, still smiling, eyes glued to the screen. âNothing.â
But Vi doesnât look awayânot right away.
She keeps watching you, like youâre the only thing worth watching tonight.
The movie plays on, echoing softly through the speakers Vi mustâve dragged out here, though the soundâs a little scratchy, like itâs crackling at the edges. But it doesnât really matter. Neither of you are really watching it anyway.
You can feel Viâs gaze drift toward you every few minutesâlike sheâs checking, like sheâs still waiting, like sheâs terrified this might all be too much, too soon. But she doesnât say anything.
It really is quiet up here, like she saidâno passing cars, no city noiseâjust the wind brushing through the grass and the soft hum of the projector behind you.
You pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself.
And then you glance at Vi.
Sheâs watching the screenâor at least pretending toâbut her jaw is tight, her lips pressed together, like sheâs biting back words. You can tell she wants to say something, the way her knee wonât stop bouncing, the way her hand keeps flexing against her thigh, like sheâs thinking about reaching for yours but doesnât dare.
So you speak first.
âWhyâd you fix this place up?â you ask softly.
Vi blinks. She looks at you for a long moment, mouth partingâbut nothing comes out at first.
âI⌠I donât know,â she admits, running a hand through her hairâmessing it up even more, if thatâs possible. âI just⌠I remembered you saying you used to come here.â
She glances away for a moment.
âI know I wasnât always⌠there. Back then.â Her jaw clenches, struggling to find the right words. âBut I remembered you telling me how youâd come here sometimesâwhen I was on the road. After we broke up, I was on a call with dad and heard that it got shut down.â
You swallow, hard.
âI guess⌠I just wanted to fix it. Make it⌠I donât know. Make it something good again. For you.â
You remember those nights. The ones where Vi wouldnât call, or would miss your textsâtoo busy chasing the dream you told her you were proud of, even if it meant you were left behind.
You clear your throat, blinking back the sting in your eyes. âViâŚâ
She shakes her head quickly, like she doesnât want you to say anything.
âI know it doesnât fix anything,â she mumbles.
Her gaze drops to her lap.
Silence again.
But before you can stop yourself, your hand moves until your fingers brush against Viâs on the seat between you. Just a light touch. Just enough to let her know you heard her.
Viâs breath hitches in her throat. She doesnât look at youâbut she doesnât move her hand away either.
The movie rolls on, the light flickering on the screen softly, and uneven shadows dance across Viâs face. Your fingers are still there, resting lightly against hersânot quite holding her hand, but not pulling away either.
Vi hasnât moved. Hasnât even dared to breathe too loud.
Sheâs still nervous. You can feel it in the way her knee keeps bouncing, in the way her thumb twitches, like she wants so badly to close the distance and link her fingers with yours.
But she doesnât. She stays there, still as a statue, letting you set the pace.
You glance at her out of the corner of your eye.
Sheâs not watching the movie anymoreâhasnât been for a while. Her gaze is fixed on the screen, sure, but you can tell by the way her eyebrows twitch slightly, by the way her lips press into a thin line, that her head is somewhere else entirely.
Sheâs thinking about you. You know her too well. Sheâs overthinking, pulling herself apart, wondering if all of this was too much.
She thinks you might pull away any second now.
So you donât.
You shift slightly in your seat, letting your pinky finger loop gently around hers. Itâs barely anything but Vi notices immediately. Her body goes stiff for a second. Then, slowly, she moves her handâjust enough to let her pinky hook back around yours.
Itâs almost nothing.
But to Vi, itâs everything.
She lets out a shaky breath, like sheâs been holding it in for too long, and finally dares to look at you.
âI wasnât sure if you were gonna show up today,â she admits, âAfter⌠the other night.â
You hear the words inside of your head again. I love you.
You swallow the lump in your throat and speak softly, your finger still hooked with hers.
âI told you Iâd see you tomorrow,â you say.
Viâs lips twitch once more, but thereâs still a question in her eyes, like sheâs waiting for you to reject her all over again.
Like sheâs still afraid youâre going to run.
And maybe a part of you is still afraid too.
The movie continued to fade into the background. You shift a little, the leather seat creaking softly as you move. Your pinky was still hooked around hers, but the rest of your hand stayed still. Waiting for something from her.
It was too quiet now. Neither of you looked at each other. Viâs chest tightened with the silence. Her fingers fidgeted where they rested against the seat as she thought about how much she wanted to say but didnât know how. She wasnât sure if it was too late, or if youâd even believe her if she told you how much she still loved you, how much she regretted everything that had happened between you both.
Then, the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. Viâs heart skipped a beat as soon as she said it, and she immediately regretted the rush.
âIâm leaving the record label,â she blurted out.
You stopped and turned your head to look at her.
âWhat?â
She couldnât bring herself to look at you, her eyes glued to the screen ahead, even though she was barely watching. Her other hand curled into a fist over her lap. She hadnât planned on telling you this way. She wanted to ease into it more. And she wasnât ready for this conversationâhell, she wasnât sure if sheâd ever be readyâbut now that it was out, it was impossible to ignore.
Vi sighs, her mind racing. It had been a decision sheâd been turning over for the past year, before coming back here, before seeing you again, something sheâd thought about while staring at the ceiling of her hotel room, when the loneliness finally sank in. She was done with it. The constant demands, the fake smiles, the busy schedules. She was done pretending. Done with the things that had pulled her away from everything that had once mattered.
And that included you.
âItâs just⌠itâs not what I thought it was.â She says, voice shaking as she spoke.
Vi finally turns her head, just enough to catch a glimpse of you, though she wasnât sure if she could hold your gaze yet.
âIâm tired of it,â she breathes.
She was tired of being someone she wasnât sure she recognized anymore. The pressure. The distance. The mistakes. The demands. Constantly touring. Strict deadlines for recording and making music. Promotions. Events. She was tired of pretending she was fine with drowning in the endless work, tired of feeling like she was losing herself more every day, when all she ever wanted was to make music and play it with her best friends.
Her knuckles whitened, clenching her fist hard.
âI didnât realize how much I was⌠letting go of until it was too late,â Vi continued, her voice dropping, vulnerable in a way she wasnât used to. âI let everything else slip through my fingers. And youââ
Her throat tightened, and she cut herself off, shaking her head, her breath catching in the back of her throat.
âI was so focused on everything else, I didnât even notice⌠I didnât even notice how far I was from you.â
She wasnât sure what she expected, if anything. Maybe she was just hoping to get it out, to let you know she wasnât the same person anymore, that she was ready to change. Ready to fight for what really mattered. For you.
âViolet,â you say softly. âYou love the bandâŚâ
Viâs smile was soft as she looked over at you. She let out a breath, shaking her head.
âI do, yeah⌠butâŚâ She trailed off, her eyes flitting to the dashboard as if the answers were hiding somewhere in the worn leather seats.
âIâm not quitting the band⌠I donât want to do that any time soon and I didnât think youâd want me to do that either,â she added, running a hand through her hair. âBut Iâm tired of the way things are going. The stuff we have to do⌠Itâs not fun anymore.â
She let out another deep breath, her eyes briefly meeting yours again.
âI want a place where weâre not being told what to do, where we can just⌠make music and play what we want,â Vi smiled a little again, more to herself than to you, as if she was starting to believe it herself. âI guess⌠I just need to find a label thatâs willing to let us have more freedom, you know?â
âWhat does the band think?â you ask her. After all, they did sign to a major labelâyou know it wonât be smooth sailing if they quit. But a part of you also knows how popular the band is, how big theyâve gotten, how successful they are, and that if this happens, people are still going to want to listen to them anyway.
âYeah, theyâre on board,â Vi smiles.
She was scared, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. Her eyes found their way back to the screen, the flashing lights of the movie scenes dancing across her face, but⌠she couldnt think about anything else.
âAnd I also⌠I wanna be closer to you,â Vi whispered, almost as if she wasnât sure she even had the right to say it.
Her lips pressed together. She was nervous again.
The truth was, she didnât know how to make you believe her. How to make you see that she wasnât the same person who had let you go before.
That this time, she wanted you. All of you.
She cleared her throat awkwardly, âI-I mean⌠T-Thereâs a record label Iâve been looking at. I-Itâs independent, and itâs just several hours away, but itâs closer than New York and Ekko and I were already thinking about setting up a studio here at home soâI-If it works out, weâll just finish our contract and move right after⌠Besidesââ
Sheâs rambling.
After a minute of talking out of her nerves, her gaze flickered toward you again, against her better judgment, and for a split second, her heart stuttered in her chest.
You looked⌠perfect. Beautiful. So much more than she remembered, and yet so familiar, like she was coming home.
Fuck, she thought. You look so pretty.
Vi immediately turned her head back to the screen, suddenly feeling the heat spreading across her cheeks. She wanted to look at you again, to let herself drink you in, but she was scared. It was easier to look away, to focus on the movie in front of her. But she couldnât stop thinking about you. Every little thing about youâyour laugh, you smile, the feeling of your hand against hersâwas driving her crazy.
She sneaked another glance anyway, this time a little longer, though she quickly darted her eyes away again when she realized how easily her breath hitched. You werenât even doing anything, just sitting there, your gaze soft on the screen, yet everything about you felt so magnetic to her. It was hard to ignore, harder still to pretend that she wasnât still in love with you.
âI spent a lot of time trying to forget about you, you know.â
For a second, Vi wasnât sure if she had heard you correctly.
But she could hear the honesty in your voice. And suddenly, she wished more than anything that she could take all of that pain away. That she could erase the hurt she had caused, make it right. She wanted to apologize, wanted to explain everything she had never said, but the words felt stuck in her throat.
You turned your head slowly, and though she couldnât see your face clearly, she knows that tears were threatening to spill.
âI spent so long convincing myself I was okay without you,â you continued. âI told myself I was fine⌠and for a while, I believed it. I really did.â
Viâs heart twisted painfully as you spoke. It was hard to hear, but at the same time, she couldnât tear her eyes away.
âBut no matter how much I tried to push it all down, I couldnât stop thinking about you. Sometimes, I wondered if we could ever go back to the way we were.â
You turned your head away, trying to hide the tears that found their way down your cheeks.
âI figured youâd forget about me too⌠that you were out there living your dream already⌠and that you didnt need me anymore.â
âYouâre wrong.â
Viâs heart raced as she quickly scooted closer to you, the long seat in her truck creaking slightly, like she couldnât wait another second to close the distance between you.
Her hand hovered over yours for a split second, then laced her fingers with yours. She pulled your hand into her lap, her hands big, warm and roughâthe same way theyâve always felt before. Vi stared down at your intertwined hands, her thumb tracing the soft curve of your knuckles, over and over again, as though she was trying to memorize the feeling of your skin. She couldnât look at you just yet; her gaze was fixed on your joined hands, touching you, holding you.
âYouâre wrong,â she repeated, her words spilling out, desperate for you to hear her, to believe her. âI never stopped needing you. Never stopped wanting you.â
She swallowed hard, shaking her head.
âI thought about you every day,â she whispered.
Vi didnât look at you as she spokeâher eyes still fixed on your hands, her thumb continuing to trace small circles over your skin.
âI thought about all the things Iâd do right the next time⌠if I got the chance. All the ways Iâd be better for you.â
Her fingers tightened just slightly around yours, pulling you a little closer. Her side was pressed against yours, but even then, she wanted to be closer.
âI also wondered if you found someone else. Someone whoâd be there for you the way I wasnât,â she said, smiling sadly at the thought. âItâs been three years since I saw you so⌠I donât know. Thatâs a long time and IâŚâ
Always thought it was too late.
Her head dropped, chin tilting slightly downward, as she let out a shaky breath, trying to keep herself from falling apart. There was so much regret, so much pain for the time she had wasted, for the distance that had grown between the two of you.
âWhen I saw you at the wedding⌠All the bullshit Iâve been running through my head, all the walls Iâve put up⌠they just⌠disappeared,â she said, eyes shifting to meet yours for just a moment. âAnd all I could think was, âIâve wasted so much time. Iâve been so stupid.ââ
Her breath was shallow, unsteady, as she ran her thumb back and forth over your skin. She wanted to make you feel safe, wanted you to feel the sincerity in her touch, the way she wanted to be close to you.
âYou deserve more than⌠than everything I gave you,â Vi sniffles quietly. âI wasnât ready then, but Iâm ready now.â
She squeezed your hand slightly, to reassure herself that you were here, that you hadnât let go, that you were still holding onto her.
Her thumb continued its slow path over your knuckles.
âYouâre my dream, too.â
Her chest feels tight as she says it.
âAnd if you donât want this with me⌠thatâs okay,â Vi says softly, though her voice cracks at the end.
She stares straight ahead, at the flickering lights of the drive-in screen now, though sheâs still not really watching the movie.
âI just⌠I want you to know itâs not about what I want. Itâs about what you want. If being close to me againâif it hurts too much⌠then I get it. I swear, I do.â
Viâs grip on your hand loosens, hesitant, like sheâs preparing herself to let go. Her heart is racing, her stomach twisting. Sheâs trying to be strong, to give you space, but the truth is, the thought of losing you againâthis time for goodâis tearing her apart piece by piece.
âI want to be happy⌠and if you think you canât be that with me, Iâll understand.â
And finally, Vi turns her head just enough to look at you, her eyes glassy. But she doesnât push. She doesnât beg.
She waits.
Tears slip down your cheeks before you can stop them.
It hurts. God, it hurts.
Without thinking, you move closer and lean your head against Viâs shoulder, tucking your face near the curve of her neck. You feel her go still beneath you, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe, as if one wrong move might br the reason you pull away from her again.
âYouâre an idiot,â you mumble against her neck, your voice breaking somewhere in the middle.
And then the tears come harder. Your shoulders tremble, and you try to keep it together, but itâs useless.
Viâs heart is poundingâyou can feel it beneath the fabric of her t-shirt. She doesnât pull away. Doesnât shift or fidget. She doesnât want to. She just stays frozen, her fingers still loosely laced with yours in her lap, her thumb still now, resting against your knuckles like sheâs forgotten how to do anything but sit there and let herself feel you this close.
She stares straight ahead at the drive-in screen, but it only blurred in her vision. All she can think about is you. Your head against her shoulder. The brush of your hair against her neck. The way your arm grazes hers, how your hand is still in hers, even as your shoulders tremble with silent tears.
Vi closes her hand a little more firmly around yours. Your soft, broken sobs are barely more than a whisper against her shoulder, but to her, theyâre louder than the movie, louder than her own heart pounding in her chest.
Slowly, her gaze drifts down to your tangled hand resting in her lap, to the way your knuckles look small in her rough, calloused palm.
She remembers how many times sheâs held your hand like this beforeâwhen you were both younger, when things were simpler. She remembers pulling you through the halls in school, in her house, on dates, lacing your fingers together on long drives with the windows down, slipping her hand into yours just because she couldâbecause back then, she didnât have to wonder if youâd let her.
Her thumb brushes over your knuckles again before she squeezes your hand softly. And then, hesitantly, Vi lifts your hand from her lap, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she brings it closer. Her lips graze the back of your hand as she kisses you there, just barely. Her mouth stays for a moment longer than it should, her breath warm against your skin, and when she finally pulls away, her hand still holds yours, cradling it carefully like its something sheâs scared of breaking.
âViolet,â you whisper again.
Viâs head snaps up instantly in a panic, worried youâll pull away from her soon.
But you donât.
Youâre still there, still leaning into her, your face close enough that she can see the faint trail of tears drying on your cheeks, the way your lips tremble, the way your eyes are focused on her, and only her.
âYeah?â She breathes.
You donât say anything right away.
But carefully, you let your other hand move upwards, your fingertips brush along her jaw, so softly, and Vi swears she forgets how to breathe. Her skin is warm beneath your hand as your thumb gently ghosts over the scar that cuts through her the tattoo on her cheekâthe one that spells out her name. She leans into it instinctively, like sheâs starved for the feeling of you, like sheâs afraid this might be the last time youâll ever touch her like this.
Her eyes flutter shut for just a second before they open again, and now sheâs not staring at the screen or at your hands.
Sheâs staring at you.
Viâs breath hitches. Her eyes fall shut for a moment, the feeling of your soft skin against hers comforting her in a way she hasnât felt in years.
âI think Iâve forgiven you a long time ago,â you say.
Vi feels the walls sheâs been building around herself start to crack, just a little. Sheâs so close to breaking, but sheâs scared. Scared of what this means, scared of how much she still needs you, how much sheâs missed you.
You continue, quietly. Nervously. âI panicked because I⌠I was scared of repeating the same things that happened in the past⌠I was scared of wanting more with you⌠not knowing if anything would actually change.â
She opens her eyes, her gaze darting over to yours immediately. And she could lose you again, she knows that. But what scares her most is that sheâs not sure sheâs strong enough to let you go, even if she wanted to.
âI donât want you to be scared,â she whispers, almost desperately. âI donât want to be the reason youâre scared anymore. I justâŚâ
Her voice cracks as she continues.
âThis⌠This is the one thing I wanna get right.â
Vi can see the shimmer of your tears in the faint glow from the screen, and it makes chest ache.
âI will get it right,â she promises.
Her eyes search yours, trying desperately to figure out what youâre thinking.
But soon, youâre crying again.
Vi watches helplessly as tears begin to fall again. The sight makes her feel like sheâs breaking all over again. She feels her own eyes welling up, but she blinks back the tears, trying to hold it together, trying to be strong for you. Her eyes trace your face, and her hand still tangled with yours, thumb brushing gentle circles against your skin. Her heart is pounding so loudly sheâs sure you can hear it, but she doesnât say a word. Sheâs too scared. Scared that this might be the moment you pull away from her all over againâthat despite everything sheâs said, youâll decide itâs too late, that sheâs too late.
But then, in a voice so soft that Vi barely hears, you mutter quietly.
âOkay.â
Vi freezes. Her mind stumbles over the word, running it back over and over again like she misheard it, like it couldnât possibly mean what she thinks it does. Did you mean it? Did you really mean it?
She blinks down at you, your tear-streaked face still pressed to her shoulder, and she feels like her heart just forgot how to beat.
And then, like the airâs been knocked out of her, she sighs. She couldnât believe it.
âOkay?â she echoes softly.
âOkay,â you nod against her, sniffling softly. âI think⌠we should take it slow, at leastââ
It feels like the air has been knocked out of Viâs lungs. Sheâs still staring at you, eyes wide, like she canât fully process what you just said.
âWait, waitââ She swallows hard. âYou⌠you mean it?â
You lift your head just enough to look at her, and the sight of your tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes almost undoes her entirely.
âYeah,â you whisper, nodding your head.
Holy shit. Vi stares at you. It doesnât feel real.
The word echoes in her head, over and over, her brain still trying to convince itself that you really said it. That you really meant it. Her chest feels tight, and for a second, she wonders if sheâs forgotten how to breathe.
And yet, Vi doesnât move. She doesnât blink. She doesnât speak.
Honestly, a part of her is still bracing for you to take it back like this is just a dream sheâs about to wake up from, or a cruel joke the universe decided to play on herâthat any second now, youâll realize you made a mistake, pull your hand away, and tell her you canât do this.
But you donât.
You sniffle instead, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand before tilting your head slightly to look at her. Vi is still frozen, staring at you like you just spoke in another language.
A slow, bittersweet smile tugs at the corner of your lips.
âViâŚ?â
Vi blinks rapidly, mouth opening slightly, but no words come out andâshit.
You tilt your head slightly, eyes still glossy, still searching her face, and Vi swears sheâs about to pass out because fuck, youâre beautiful. Even after all that crying, the way youâre looking at her, like youâre really seeing her for the first time in years, like sheâs something worth looking atâ
Vi feels her entire body go up in flames.
Sheâs red.
Like, really redâcheeks burning, ears practically glowing, and the moment your eyes meet, she panics. Her face heats up so fucking fast sheâs sure sheâs about to combust, the tips of her ears burning, and before she can stop herself, her forehead drops against your shoulder in pure mortification, and she groans.
âFuck,â she mutters, muffled against your jacket. âIâjustâgimme a second.â
She can feel you shaking slightly, and for a second, she thinks youâre crying again, butâitâs the quietest little laugh that falls past your lips and into her ears.
And despite the fact that sheâd do anything and more to make you laugh forever, out of pure embarrassment, she groans quietly, âDonât laugh at me.â
You sniff again. âIâm not.â
âYou are.â
And you donât say anything else after that. Neither does Vi.
She just stays there, forehead resting against your shoulder, breathing slow. Her fingers are still tangled with yours, her thumb absently running along your knuckles like she needs the reassurance that youâre still here with her. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, she moves her face closerânuzzling in closer, her nose brushing the curve of your neck. You feel her breathe you in, sighing softly against your skin.
She smells like cigarettes and the faded remnants of whatever cologne sheâs been using since sheâs got back home, but underneath all of that⌠she smells they same as she did before. She smelled like thr girl who used to hold your hand and kiss you under the bleachers after school, who used to sneak through your bedroom window at midnight just to fall asleep beside you. The girl who kissed you like she meant it every single day. The girl you thought you lost.
You swallow the lump in your throat, blinking against the sting behind your eyes, and Vi mustâve noticedâmustâve felt the way your breath hitches because her grip on your hand tightens just slightly.
She lifts her head carefully a moment later, afraid to pull away and when she finally does, her face is close. And maybe itâs because she had already scooted over on the bench seat earlier, maybe itâs because the space between you has been shrinking all night, but suddenly, sheâs no longer in front of the steering wheelâsheâs right there, so close that her jeans are brushing against your legs, so close that you can feel the warmth of her body against your side, boxing you in against the truck door.
You donât know if she planned it, if she even realized what she was doing, or if her body just naturally moved toward you the way it always used to. But sheâs so close now.
And sheâs looking right at you, like sheâs trying to memorize every inch of your faceâlike sheâs scared youâll slip through her fingers if she so much as blinks.
Her eyes drop to your lips, just for a second.
Then back up, meeting your gaze.
Vi searches your face, her thumb absently brushing over the back of your hand.
âAre you sure about this?â Her voice is barely above a whisper now. âBecause if youâre not, if you need time, IâIâll wait. I swear, Iâllââ
âVi.â
She shuts up instantly.
And then, she just looks at you. Youâre so fucking pretty, itâs practically driving her insane.
Her eyes keep dropping to your lips, no matter how hard she tries not to. Soft. She knows how they feel, knows the way they move against hers, the way they part just slightly when you sigh into a kiss. Sheâs addicted to it, the memory of it burned into her mind, something sheâs thought about every time sheâd think about you.
And now youâre here, looking at her like that, so close, your breath warm against her cheek, and Vi is losing her goddamn mind trying to hold herself back.
Her fingers twitch against yours, grip tightening for just a second before she forces herself to loosen it.
You exhale softly, and Vi feels it against her lips.
She doesnât even realize sheâs leaned in this close until she sees the way your lashes flutter, the way your breath hitches just slightly. Her grip on your hand tightens again.
Fuck⌠Should she ask? Is she allowed to ask? Well⌠Its too late now, becuase her mouth is moving even before she could even think.
âDoes⌠taking it slow⌠mean that I canât kiss you right now?â Vi asks quietly.
She watches you, searching, waiting for any sign of hesitation, of doubt on your face that might tell her to back off.
But you donât pull away.
You just look at her, eyes soft, lips parted, so heartbreakingly close that Vi swears she can feel your warmth pulling her in like a moth to a flame.
Sheâs drowning in it.
And she wants to kiss you so badly it hurts.
You donât say anything right away. She watches your eyes, how they linger on her mouth for a beat too long. It sends a shiver down her spine, a spark of hope that she tries to smother, but youâre already under her skin.
âIâŚâ you trail off.
Fuck. Maybe she shouldâve kept her mouth shut. Maybe this was too much. Maybe youâre not readyâmaybe sheâs already ruined this before it even started. Maybeâ
Your free hand moves. Just barely. Fingers brushing against her knee.
Itâs the lightest touch, but Vi feels it anyway. Youâre looking at her like youâre thinking, like youâre considering it. And sheâs desperate, holding her breath, waiting for anythingâany sign that itâs okay to close the distance between you, to let her feel those warm, delicious lips of yours against hers.
âI didnât say that,â you whisper, heat spreading across your cheeks.
But thatâs all it takes for Vi to lean in, forehead brushing against yours first, slowly, like sheâs giving you one last chance to pull away. You donât. You stay, your eyes half-lidded, waiting. She leans in slowly, so slowly itâs almost agonizing. Then, her nose nudges softly against yours, the faintest graze of skin on skin, and she shivers. She can feel the warmth of your breath, smell the faint trace of your perfume, fingers lace tighter with yours. Her other hand lifts, trembling just slightly as she cups your cheek, her thumb grazing over your tear stained skin.
You feel her lips brush against yours. Gentle. And careful. Giving you every opportunity to change your mind.
Still, you donât.
You lean into it, soft and sweet, your hand tugging around the front of her jacket. She kisses you slowly, savoring the warmth of your mouth, the way you taste, the way your lips part just enough for her to deepen it.
And for the first time in years, Vi doesnât feel lost. She doesnât feel empty.
She canât breathe. She doesnât want to breathe.
She just feels you.
All she wants is you.
The second your lips move against hers, Vi completely melts into you, helpless against that need thatâs always been there. Her thumb smooths over your cheek, hand moving down to pull you closer by your neck, the other still clinging to yours, but itâs not enough. Itâll never be enough. She kisses you as if sheâs afraid sheâll never get to again.
Thereâs no hesitation now. No fear. Just you. Every sensation sinks into her, overwhelming and intoxicating.
She tilts her head, chasing more. The kiss gets desperate, messy, and Vi doesnât care. Sheâs starved for this⌠for you. You sigh softly against her mouth, and Vi feels it everywhere. It makes her kiss you deeper, hungrier, like she could devour every sound you make. She tugs you closer, her body instinctively leaning into yours. The truckâs old leather seat creaks beneath you, but neither of you pay it any mind.
God, sheâd kiss you forever if youâd let her.
Sheâs always been like thisâhopelessly addicted to the way you fit against her, the way you always responded to her touch. Her thumb brushes over your cheek again, and Vi can feel the warmth of your skin beneath her calloused fingers, the slight dampness of the tears youâd cried moments ago. It only makes her hold you tighter, to keep you closer, thinking about never ever letting you go againâdoesnât even give it a second thought.
You pull away first, your breathing ragged, soft as you try to catch your breath. Viâs eyes stay closed for a moment, like sheâs trying to hold on to the feeling, imagining what your lips feel like even though youâre just right there, mere centimeters away from her.
When she finally opens them, she looks completely dazed. Her pupils are blown wide, her lips parted, still tinged with the lingering heat of yours. She looks at you like youâre the only thing in the world that matters.
And maybe, to her, you are.
It takes her a second to realize how close sheâs gotten. Her arm is resting along the back of the seat, her body practically caging you in. Youâre pressed up against the cool leather of the truck door, your legs tangled with hers, her hand still clutching your, afraid to let go.
Vi blinks, then quickly leans back, her cheeks burning. âShit, sorry.â
She doesnât go far. She couldnât, even if she wanted to. Her hand stays in yours, her thumb absently tracing over your knuckles, but she forces herself to give you some room. Barely.
âDidnât mean toâŚâ She trails off, shaking her head with a huff of a laugh.
You donât say anything yet, your chest still rising and falling as you catch your breath. Vi canât help but stare at the flush dusting over your cheeks, at your slightly swollen lips.
She wants to kiss you again. God, she wants to kiss you a thousand times over.
But somehow, she finds the strength to stay put.
âI didnât mind,â you say softly.
Viâs heart stutters. She swears it stops entirely.
Youâre so beautiful. More than beautiful. And sheâs pretty sure she could stare at you like this forever.
Vi tears her gaze away from you, her eyes drifting toward the glowing screen past the window. Her breath hitches, a shaky sigh falling from her lips. Barely a second later, her eyes move again, looking down at your intertwined hands resting on her lap. Her thumb brushes over your skin slowly.
She knows whatâs coming, and sheâs terrified of how itâll feel, how youâll react⌠if youâll pull away from her again, like you did before.
But she canât stop herself from saying it.
Slowly, Vi lifts your hand to her lips, pressing a soft, tender kiss to the back of it all over again. When she pulls away, her eyes meet yours. And before you can speak, before the words even leave your mouth, Vi swallows hard, and opens her mouth.
âI love you,â she whispers.
You donât respond immediately, but she isnât expecting you to. But she needs you to know. She needs you to hear it. She looks down again, her grip tightening around your hand, and her voice cracks slightly when she continues.
âY-You donât have to say it back⌠I just⌠I wanna remind you that I do⌠and I always will.â
Viâs heart is pounding in her chest, and she looks away again, unable to hold your gaze any longer. Her eyes fall to your hands once more, still clasped together in her lap, tracing the lines of your hand with her fingers, her thumb lightly brushing the back of your palm. Itâs automatic, almost like her body knows how to do it without thinking.
She thought she was prepared for this, for the possibility that you might not be ready to say it back. How could she expect you to feel the same way, right this second, after years of not being there for youâwith you?
She smiles weakly, more to herself than anything.
And yet, itâs hard to ignore. She loves you, so deeply. And the thought of not having you in her life againâitâs unbearable. Sheâs willing to do whatever it takes.
Her eyes stay locked on your hand in hers, still unable to look up at your face, scared that she might see something she doesnât want to. Maybe youâll change your mind about her. Maybe youâll tell her that this canât happen againâthat this shouldnât happen again⌠Maybe, you donât love her as much as you used to⌠Maybeâ
âI love you.â
Wait, did she say that? Vi blinks, her heart skipping a beat. The words echo in her mind, like sheâs misheard themâlike they canât possibly be real. It takes her a moment to register that it wasnât her voice that said it. It was yours.
Her eyes lift slowly, hesitantly. But when she finally looks at you, she sees the truth written all over your face. The way youâre biting your lip, the way your gaze moves away from her, your cheeks flushed. Youâre nervous.
âIâŚâ She canât find the words.
And then, so softly, you speak again.
âThat partâs never changed, Vi.â
She canât tear her eyes away. She studies every inch of your face, trying to convince herself itâs real.
Because you said that you love her.
The lump in her throat grows, and for a second, sheâs sure sheâs going to cry. She wants to say something, to respond, but all that comes out is a shaky breath.
âGod,â Vi whispers, barely able to get the word out. âYouââ
She shakes her head, her lips parting as if to try again, but nothing comes. And then sheâs smiling. Itâs small at first, soft and disbelieving, like she canât believe how lucky she is.
âI thought Iâd never hear you say that again,â she finally says.
Vi feels the sting in her eyes, the tears threatening to spill. She hates it. Hates how overwhelmed she feels, how her chest feels tight, like her heartâs too full, and for a second, itâs all too much.
She tips her head back, resting it against the worn leather of the truckâs seat. The ceiling stares back at her, cracked in places from the years that passed. Her throat works around a shaky breath, and then she sighs.
âFuck.â
It slips out before she can stop it, the word practically laced with everything she couldnât put into words, knowing how badly sheâs wanted this, how afraid she still is that it could be gone agin. She feels you move slightly beside her, your hand still tucked firmly in hers. But Vi canât bring herself to look at you just yet. If she does, she knows she wonât be able to hide the way her eyes are glossing over. Sheâs always wanted to look brave and tough around you⌠but, itâs getting harder and harder to hide with each second that passes.
She bites her lip, forcing down the sob that threatens to crawl up her throat.
âSorry,â she mumbles, though sheâs not even sure what sheâs apologizing for.
Your thumb brushes lightly against her hand, and itâs enough to make shut her eyes tight, like she can will the tears away. But it doesnât work. One slips free, trailing hot down her cheek anywayâŚ
Vi barely makes a sound. She just sits there, head tilted back against the seat, her chest rising and falling in shaky breaths. The tears slip down her face but she doesnât even bother wiping them away.
She sniffles softly, her jaw clenched as another tear slips past her lashes. God, she hates crying. She hates how vulnerable it makes her feel. But with you, itâs different. She feels warm with you.
Vi finally brings a hand up, swiping roughly at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. It doesnât do much. But when she drops her arm and finally dares to glance at you, thereâs nothing but softness in your eyes.
âSorry,â she whispers again, cracking at the end, betraying just how much sheâs holding back.
But you just shake your head, squeezing her hand. âDonât.â
She sighs in response, her chest rising and falling as she tries to keep it together. Her thumb continues to trace slow, absentminded circles against your skin, and suddenly, the truck feels too small.
You donât rush her. You never have.
Vi doesnât say anything at first. She canât remember the last time she felt this bare. Itâs terrifying. But with you, itâs also⌠safe.
She lowers her head, her forehead brushing against your shoulder again. For a moment, neither of you move. The sound of the movie in the background drifts through the truckâs open windows, but neither of you are paying attention.
âI missed you,â she whispers against your shoulder. âI missed you so fucking much.â
âI missed you, too,â you reply just as softly.
Vi squeezes her eyes shut. She wants to say more. She wants to tell you how every city, every stage, every goddamn after party felt hollow without you. How sheâd check her phone after every show, hoping for a text that never came. How sheâd lie awake in hotel rooms, thinking about you, about being with you, about how much she missed you, about how much she wanted to turn back the time and do everything differently.
But instead, she just presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, her lips trembling against the soft fabric of your shirt.
âIâm so sorry,â she whispers again. âFor everything.â
âI know,â you say. âMe too.â
Her eyes search yours, her brows furrowing like she canât believe what she just heard.
She shakes her head, âWhy are you sorry? You donât have toââ
âI couldâve tried harder too, Vi.â
Your voice trembles, as Vi stares at you. She looks like she wants to argue, to tell you that none of this was your fault. That sheâs the one who let you down. That sheâs the one who made you feel like an afterthought while she chased a dream that didnât feel half as good without you in it.
But you keep going.
âI couldâve said more. I couldâve told you how much it hurt when you didnât call back, how lonely it was waiting for you to come home,â you whisper. âBut I didnât. I just⌠I convinced myself it was easier to pretend I was fine. To act like I didnât care as much as I did⌠I assumed that you had bigger things to worry about than me⌠and I got scared to tell you. I-I shouldâve told youââ
âYou donât have to apologize,â Vi cuts in. âIâm the one who made you feel that way andââ
âVi,â you interrupt softly, your thumb brushing over her hand. âYou donât have to take all the blame⌠It wasnât just you⌠It was me, too. I let myself think that I was the one who had to adjust, to accept whatever you gave me. I pushed away my own feelings so I could make sense of the distance⌠and I left when all I wanted was to be close to you.â
She stares at you, chest heavy with guilt, but sheâs not interrupting now. Sheâs listeningâreally listening.
âI just wanted to matter to you,â you muttered.
Her eyes soften, her lips trembling, âYou do matter to me. Youâve always mattered.â
Vi pauses, her gaze always seems to fall to your hands, the way her fingers are wrapped around yours.
âI was stupid⌠and selfish back then. I didnât realize how much you needed meâhow much I needed you.â She reaches up to gently tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, âI never stopped thinking about you. Even when I was out there⌠none of it was ever as important as you. Not even close⌠And Iâll keep showing you. Everyday. Until youâre sure⌠And even after that, Iâll keep showing you anyway.â
After a quiet pause, Vi watches you, her heart beating fast as you shake your head, that small, tired smile tugging at your lips. And then, without a second thought, you lean into her, your head finding its place on her shoulder all over again.
âI already said okay,â you say softly, muffled slightly against her jacket, tears threatening to spill again.
Vi lets out a shaky breath, the corner of her mouth twitching into the smallest smile.
âI know,â she smiles.
Her eyes dart down again, catching the sight of your hands resting in her lap, smilimg at the way your fingers fit so easily with hers.
Truthfully, she wants to say more. Tell you how much she loves you. How sorry she still is. How sheâs going to spend the rest of her life making sure she never breaks your heart again.
But all she does is run the pad of the thumb along your knuckles as she dips her head just slightly, brushing her lips against the crown of your hair. The smell of your shampoo is sweet and soft, and Vi only holds on to your hands tighter, determined to be the best version of herself that you deserve.
Itâs quiet now. You both stay like that for a while. And all Vi can focus on is the feeling of you beside her.
âThank you,â she says after a while, you almost didnât hear it.
For giving her a chance she wasnât sure she deserved.

Vi drives back into town when the movie ends. And in truth, she wished the movie lasted forever if it meant being able to sit beside you like that for the rest of the night.
The ride back was quiet⌠but it wasnât uncomfortable. Every so often, Viâs knuckles would brush against yours on the bench seat, the way they used to when sheâd drive you around town. And every time it happened, sheâd swallow that lump in her though and grip the steering wheel a little tighter, afraid to push her luck.
She brought you to that same old pizza place near the edge of townâthe one you two used to hit up on late nights like theseâVi had pulled over without thinking. It was late and, in her mind, it wouldnât be a proper date if she didnât take you to get food.
âStill open,â sheâd said, half-relieved, half-nervous. âYou feel like splitting a pizza?â
You nodded when she asked.
And now, with the lingering scent of melted cheese and warm dough filling the truck, you both sit parked in the lot. The pizza box is cracked open between you, the last couple of slices mostly forgotten. Viâs trying not to make it obvious, but sheâs been eating slow. Suspiciously slow. Every bite takes twice as long as it probably shouldânot because sheâs savoring it, but because sheâs trying to stretch the her time with you, desperate for it not to end.
She glances at you for what must be the hundredth time. You seemed relaxed enough, though maybe a little bit tired, soft light from the streetlamp beside her truck glowing slightly on your face. Vi thinks youâre beautiful like this. She always has. But now that youâre here, itâs all she can do not to stare.
âPizzaâs still good,â she tries, something to fill the silence. âTastes the same.â
You hum in agreement, chewing thoughtfully. âI think they changed the sauce a little.â
Vi blinks, looking back at her half-eaten slice. âReally?â
You shrug. âJust a little sweeter. Or maybe Iâm imagining it.â
A beat passes. Viâs lips twitch into a small smile. âStill better than that place in New York.â
You laugh softly, and god, the sound of it has Viâs stomach doing flips.
âThat place was awful,â you agree. âWhyâd we even go there?â
âBecause I swore itâd be authentic.â Vi chuckles, as she throws in finger quotes. âI think I hyped it up for, like, a week.â
âWell, I think itâs impressive that you found a bad pizza place in New York,â you tease.
Vi huffs a laugh, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. âNever living that one down, huh?â
You shake your head softly.
It gets quiet again. Vi risks another glance your way, only to find you already looking at her. She quickly looks down, her fingers fidgeting with a stray napkin in her lap.
âI, uh⌠I could take the long way back,â she offers, trying to sound casual. âIf youâre not in a rush.â
You hesitate for just a moment bedore shaking your head. âI-Itâs late. I should probably get home.â
Vi nods quickly, forcing a smile. âRight. Yeah, of course.â
The words are easy enough to say, but they taste bitter. She doesnât want this night to end. Not when things feel⌠good. Almost like before.
Still, she doesnât argue.
Itâs a silent ride on the way back to your apartment. Viâs fingers drum softly against the steering wheel, her other hand gripping it a little too tightly. Occasionally, she sneaks a glance at you, but youâre gazing out the window, lost in your own thoughts.
She likes it better than nothing.
After all, it wasnât too long ago when silence meant something worse.
But now youâre here. Right next to her. And even though her heart aches a little from how much she still wants, Vi wouldnât trade this moment for anything.
Her truck rolls to a stop in front of your apartment building. She lingers for a moment, trying to think of something clever or easy to say, but...
You beat her to it. âThanks for the ride.â
Vi swallows. âYeah. Anytime.â
You reach for the door handle, but her voice stops you.
âIâll walk you up.â It comes out quickly, afraid you might say no if she hesitates.
You blink, surprised. âVi, you donât have toââ
âI want to.â Her eyes soften as they meet yours, a shy smile tugging at her lips. âI mean, if thatâs okay.â
It takes a second, but then you nod.
Viâs out of the truck before she can second guess herself. She jogs around to your side, and even though youâre perfectly capable, she still opens the door for you, just like she used to. She doesnât say anything about it, and neither do you. But the corner of your mouth twitches, and Vi catches it.
The building is quiet as you both step inside. You lead the way to the elevator, Vi trailing just half a step behind. Itâs strange, how familiar this all feels. She knew this place so well nowâthe smell of some faint lemon cleaner, the creak of the old elevator doors, even the way the number buttons lit up. Sheâd spent countless nights walking these same halls, on her way up to see you⌠to kiss you⌠to make love to youâwell⌠thatâs what she always thought of it⌠And, even the same as before, it feels like sheâs holding her breath with every step.
The elevator ride is short, but the silence makes it feel longer, really. Vi shifts on her feet, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets as she sneaks another glance at you, catching the way your teeth tug at your bottom lipâa habit she knows all too well. Youâre nervous.
She wants to say something. Something to make you feel at ease⌠comfortable⌠to make you smile, maybe. But her throat feels tight, and by the time she thinks of anything, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open.
You make your way down the hall, and Vi follows closely. She canât help but notice how her palms are starting to sweat. Fuck, itâs so ridiculous.
Eventually, you stop in front of your door. For a moment, neither of you speak. You pull your keys from your bag, fidgeting with them, and Vi watches you turn.
âThank you for tonight, Vi,â you say softly. âAnd the drive-in⌠It was really nice.â
âY-Yeah.â She nods, then rubs the back of her neck. âOf course.â
âReally,â You smile, though itâs small. âI had a really good time.â
âIâm glad,â Vi returns your smile, feeling a bit proud. âWe, uh⌠should go again some time⌠I mean, i-if thereâs another movie you wanna watch, I could⌠I could figure out something.â
And then itâs quiet again. She almost hates it. Because she knows this is where youâre supposed to say goodnight. Sheâs supposed to turn around, head back to her truck, and let the night end.
But god, she doesnât want to.
Viâs voice is softer when she speaks next. âCan I see you again soon?â
Your fingers tighten around your keys, but you donât look away.
âYeah,â you say simply, unable to fight the way your lips curved upwards. âSoon.â
She nods, and despite the nerves eating away at her, she smiles. âOkay.â
And just when sheâs about to take a step back, to let you go, you surprise her.
Itâs soft. And gentle. And before she can even think, you lean in, just enough for your lips to brush her cheek. Itâs quick, barely there, but Vi freezes. Her eyes widen slightly, heat rushing to her face. You pull back and turn around, your own cheeks warm, too nervous to look at her again. Vi stands there, staring at you like a complete idiot. Her fingertips brush over the spot where your lips had been, and she can still feel the ghost of it.
And although you donât see it, a grin slowly spreads across her face.
Your fingers barely brush against the keys in the lock before you hear Vi sigh behind you, like sheâs been holding her breath. And before you can turn the key, her hands are on yours. And now, itâs your turn to freeze. Her palms against your skin is nothing but warm as she pulls you away from the door. She doesnât say anything at first. Just turns you toward her, slowly and carefully.
Her thumbs brushing over your knuckles and you donât meet her eyes right away. But you feel her looking at you, staring hard. And when you finally lift your head, her gaze meets yours immediately.
âIâŚâ Vi starts, but the words disappear in her throat.
She opens her mouth again, then closes it, clenching her jawâmaybe in frustration.
And then she tries again.
âI didnât want to leave withoutââ Vi pauses, her brows knitting together. âI mean⌠I know I should, butâŚâ
Her voice drops, trembling only slightly as she looks down at your hands.
âI donât want to⌠just yet.â
Sheâs so close. Close enough that the scent of herâsmoke and some of her cologneâis all you can focus on.
âViâŚâ you whisper, her name barely leaving your lips.
âIâm sorry.â She shakes her head, her grip on your hands tightening just a little. âI justââ
She stops, exhaling sharply like sheâs frustrated with herself again. Her hands twitch, and for a moment, you think sheâs about to let go, but she doesnât.
âI missed you,â she says softly.
âI missed you too, Vi,â you admit.
Deep in her mind, she feels like this isnât real⌠that sheâs dreaming and that sheâll wake up soon. Fuck, pleaseâŚ
âI⌠I really wanna kiss you again, â She whispers, stepping closer. âCan I?â
You donât answer right away. Not because you donât know, but because you feel a little overwhelmed⌠in a good way, really. Vi waits, her breath warm against your skin, her hands still cradling yours.
And with the softest nod, you give her the answer sheâs been waiting for.
Vi doesnât waste a second. She leans in, her lips brushing against yours so gently and when you kiss her back, just as softlyâshe fucking melts.
A shaky breath falls past her lips, hands tightening around your own as she kisses you like sheâs memorizing the shape of your mouth all over again. And god, sheâs so close. Her forehead brushes against yours, and her breath mingles with yours. You can feel the cool metal of her nose ring brush against the side of your nostrol as she pulls you in closer. And as your fingers trail up, your hands finding their way to her neck, Vi feels herself lean in even closer. You cup the strong curve of her jaw, your thumbs brushing along the sharp line of it, and the touch sends a shiver down her spine.
Vi kisses you deeper. Her big hands, rough and calloused, move carefully from your hands, sliding down to your waist. Her fingers curl against your sides and the way you tilt your head, the way your body instinctively presses just a little closer, makes her feel dizzy. She canât stop the soft groan, that desperate little noise muffled by your lips. And your fingers thread gently into the hair at the nape of her neck.
Sheâs not sure how long you stay like that, and even as her lungs beg for air, Vi doesnât want to stop.
But eventually, she pulls away slowly, her forehead lingering against yours as she tries to catch her breath. Her chest rises and falls, lips still parted, tingling from the kissâfrom you.
She blinks, trying to set her mind straight, but itâs impossible when youâre so close.
Her thumb brushes absently over your waist where her hands still rest, rough fingertips trailing the hem of your shirt. She doesnât even realize sheâs doing it, like touching you is second nature, a habit she never really broke. She doesnât want to stop touching you. She doesnât think she could if she tried.
But then she lifts her head just enough to meet your eyes, and whatever she was about to say dies in her throat. Youâre staring at her, cheeks flushed, lips parted like youâre just as overwhelmed as she is.
Fuck, you look so pretty.
âIâŚâ She starts, but the rest of her words never make it out. She shakes her head slightly, letting out a breathless laugh. âI didnât mean toâŚâ
Get carried away? But thatâs a lie. She did mean to. Sheâs been thinking about kissing you like this again since you left the drive-in.
Her hand tightens just slightly against your waist as she opens her mouth again, âI-I mean⌠I did mean to. I justâFuck, sorryâI donât know what Iâm trying to say.â
She searches your face briefly, desperate for any sign that she hasnât just ruined everything. When she catches the faintest smile tugging at the corner of your lips, her heart trips over itself.
âYou okay?â She asks softly.
You donât answer right away, but you donât pull away either. Vi can still feel your hands on her neck, your fingertips brushing against the strands of her pink hair. She swears she could stand here forever if you let herâjust holding you, breathing you in, memorizing the way you feel pressed against her.
âIâm okay,â you finally whisper so softly.
Relief washes over the girl in front of you. Her lips twitch, almost forming into a smile.
âGood,â she breathes, her hands lingering at your waist. âThatâs good.â
And itâs quiet again⌠but this time, Vi doesnât mind it. Her eyes flicker down to your lips without meaning to, and her fingers flex slightly against your waist. She doesnât really know how the hell sheâs supposed to walk away from this nowâfrom you.
But she knows she should. She already kissed you multiple times tonight, and it was more than she ever thought sheâd get. She canât push her luck.
âI should⌠probably let you get inside,â Vi says, although itâs clear even she doesnât believe it. Her grip loosens just enough, her hands still hovering close to your hips. âItâs late.â
You nod shyly, barely meeting her eyes. âYeah,â you reply, but you donât sound all that sure either.
Vi forces herself to move, her hands dropping to her sides even though every nerve in her body screams to stay. She takes a step back, putting some space between the two of you that she instantly hates. She shifts on her feet, awkward now, her heart still beating a mile a minute.
âGoodnight,â you say.
Vi nods quickly.
âNight.â Her voice cracks slightly, and she winces. âUh⌠goodnight. Sleep good. I mean, well. Sleep well.â
âThank you, Vi,â you say again.
âMhm.â
You smile, small but amused, and Vi thinks she might just die right there on your doorstep.
Her cheeks are burning. She can feel the heat crawling up the sides of her neck to the tips of her ears. Sheâs pretty sure her cheeks are just as red, and hell, she probably looks like a mess, but she doesnât dare cover her face. Not when youâre still standing there.
She watches as you turn toward the door, your keys jingling softly in your hand.
You glance back at her one last time, eyes falling to her neck where her skin meets that tiny glint of her silver necklaceâa peice of jewelry you know all too wellâand then youâre gone, the door clicking shut behind you.
Vi lets out a long breath, dragging a hand down her face.
âFuck,â she mumbles to herself.
She doesnât exactly know how long she stands there, staring at your front door. To some stranger, she might look like some creep standing in front of some random apartment, but all she can think about in her head is replaying the way your lips felt against hers, the taste of your mouth, your hands on her neck, how soft you felt under her fingertipsâshe misses all of it.
But eventually, she turns, heading down the hallway, her hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets.
And even though sheâd wanted nothing more than to stay,to press her forehead against yours and ask for just one more kiss, one more minute, Vi couldnât bring herself to feel anything but grateful.
Because for the first time in what felt like forever, she didnât drive away from your apartment feeling empty.
God. She is so screwed.

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#â heart to heart // series#bâs writings#vi x reader#vi x fem reader#vi arcane#arcane#arcane x reader#violet arcane#violet x reader#arcane fanfic#fanfiction#vi x reader smut#fanfic
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oml your afab scaramouche fic đ¤đâźď¸ /pos
that gave me an idea
imagine him agreeing to be tied up by reader w/ his wrist above his head cuz he finds it hot but then finds himself so desperate for their fingers/mouth he starts begging đ reader would constantly deny him just to hear more pleas from him but once they finally let him heâd cum so hard he squirts đ
(Ofc feel free2 ignore my request, i'll understand if your not comfortable w/ it (especially the tying up part))
Scaramouche x gn!reader ;; readers pronouns not mentioned
SMUT/[N]SFW CONTENT (sub scaramouche, afab!scara, dom!reader, fingering, some slight eating out?, begging, squirting, tying up, orgasm denial, he kind of starts crying)
Summary: Scaramouche agrees to you tying his hands above his head, but he didn't consider the fact that you'll force him to beg for his release. The one you've been denying him.
A/n: UGHHH ITS BEEN SO LONG IM SORRY!! BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS ^_^ it was a great idea, I wasn't sure how to describe the squ!rting part, but I tried... and thank you for your comment <3

Minor writer, dni if uncomfortable!
You didn't think that someone like Scaramouche would want to allow you to do something like that to him, but he nodded his head, asking when you wanted it to happen. At the mere mention of you tying his hands made him feel warm, stomach fluttering, but he couldn't show how he actually felt about your suggestion. You loved having control in the bedroom, and the both of you would get.. something out of it, so why not?
You tie his hands together with a belt that you hadn't used in your outfits for quite some time. You made sure that it wasn't too hard on his wrists, hooking a finger between his skin and the material. Scaramouche was eagerly watching you, a small blush already apparent on his cheeks.
After properly restraining him, you move away, sitting down in front of him. You cup his face in your hands and lean in for a kiss, Scara returning it immediately. Shutting your eyes, you already get into action, moving your hands over his body, one resting at chest while your other moves down between his legs. He bucks his hips towards you, wanting you to touch him already. It made you laugh against his mouth, but you did as he wanted. You slowly moved your fingers over his clit and pushed one into his entrance.
You move away from your kiss, staring at him with a curious expression. "You're already a bit excited... I thought I'd be the one enjoying your hands being tied," you spoke, moving your finger slowly in and out. He shook his head, letting out a small moan, "I'm- not excited about you tying me up, dumb ass."
You roll your eyes at his response. Who is he trying to fool? Whatever. You know what to do with that attitude in bed.
You push another finger inside him, pumping them at a slow pace. He moans softly while you move to his neck to kiss his skin. You drag your teeth down his collarbone to his chest, finding a good spot to mark. He twitches from the sudden bite, cursing under his breath. You not speeding up your fingers was making him groan, trying to move against them to feel more. You gazed up at him and moved your fingers at a faster pace, which caught him by surprise.
You watched him try to move his hands against the restraints, so you fingered him a little harsher for that. He moaned at that, face flushing red. You continued to bite at his chest, dragging your tongue up to his collarbone, biting at the skin there as well. You felt his head fall back as he pushed his hips against you, making your fingers hit deeper. He was tensing his thighs, his stomach in knots at a building release.
You gazed up at him before detaching yourself from his skin and watching. He was slightly twitching, his hands digging into each other in the restraints. You smirked, slowing your fingers down, which immediately got a reaction out of Scaramouche. "No- Fuck, no, don't-" He whines out, trying to catch your fingers, but you already pulled them out.
"Uh-uh, that's for being a smart ass," you muttered, cleaning your digits, "You'll have to beg, darling." Scara raises an eyebrow in disbelief before letting out sarcastic chuckle. "In your dreams, darling," He used the same petname with sarcasm, "Come on, touch me." He didn't have all day to wait, and he would prefer not to be left here restrained. Fuck, I'd be great if you could tie him up a little more. Tighten the belt around his wrists, make it sting.
You don't respond. Laying down on the bed, you move your hands over his thighs, spreading them apart more. You hear his breath hitch and know that he is staring at you, wondering what you'll be doing, if you'll be doing. Sliding your hands over to his crotch, spreading his folds, you lean in, and his back arches. You don't waste time, quickly lapping at his core with your tongue, humming in the process. Hearing the belt buckle make a sound let you know that he was struggling against the restrains. Scara bucks his hips forward, letting out a louder groan.
"Yes, oh, fuck- Haah, yeah-!" He's feeling that build up again, and he struggles hard against the belt, wishing he could grab your hair. Of course, he doesn't get out because you knew how to properly put that belt around his wrists. Oh, just a bit more... He's moaning loudly, chest rising with each breath, oh dearâ
And then you pull away, just when he was about to start saying how close he was. You hear his hands thud against the wall as he groans, annoyance evident in it.
"For fucks sakeâ" "Uh-uh. Did you forget what I said?" You immediately cut him off, sitting back up. Scara rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath, probably cursing you like usual.
And that's what you do for like, 10 minutes, more or less. Moving your hands on his body, leaving bites, trailing your tongue on his skin, then pushing your fingers inside of him again... And moving them away when he's close. As he shakes, breathing heavily from another denied orgasm, you kiss down his chest to his stomach, attaching your lips against his clit again, and he whines so loudly, knowing that you'll likely deny him again.
He's twitching, legs trying to close around your head just to keep you there and get his release, but you retract your tongue back in your mouth and shut your lips, unmoving. He's left there whining and shutting his eyes, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead as he breathes in and out. Scaramouche can't take this any longer, but he does not want to beg. He simply will not. But he needs your fucking touch, he needs to cum, for fucks sake, why couldn't you give him what he wants?
As his pussy clenches around nothing, your tongue long gone, he swallows the remaining spit he had in his dry mouth. He needs to.. Gosh, can't you just...?
Of course you could. You just didn't do it. You were waiting for him to ask you that, to beg you for release, you already told him that at the start. All of this is entirely his fault. You were not going to budge from his whines, in fact, you loved hearing them. You loved denying him what he wanted, because of his own actions. You will only continue when he does what you want him to do, plain and simple.
As you ghost your fingertips down his body yet again, he gasps, sucking in another shaky breath through his teeth. He can't- He can't do this again. It was clear to him that you could do this all day, which pissed him off so fucking badly.
Your thumb brushes against his core and he jolts, straining his wrists against his restraints. "You're gonna do this again?" You asks, moving your thumb in slow and agonizing circles. Scara swallows down a moan, his cheeks painted red. He doesn't respond yet, hoping, hoping that you'll let him cum this time. But then again, he doesn't want you to pity him, that would be worse. Fuck.
You lean down again to replace your thumb with your mouth, and Scaramouche moans at the feeling of your tongue. You go slow, making sure he feels every drag of your tongue. He starts trembling when you increase your pace, moans and whines falling past his lips. It doesn't take long to feel that feeling building up in his stomachâ
His eyes shoot open at the realization, once again, that you were going to deny him again. Right when your tongue was quickly lapping at his core, making him shiver and moan... it started to slow down. Scara whined, his head falling forwards, tears springing at the corners of his eyes.
"Please, I'm sorry, [name], please, don't stop, no-" He choked out, trying to grind against your tongue that was about to move away completely. "Please, don't stop, don't- don't, please, [name], plea-ahse." His voice cracked slightly at the end.
You stayed still for a moment before getting back up. Scara stares at you in some shock, about to say something, but you shut him up by harshly pushing your fingers inside of him, immediately starting to move them at a quick pace. He gasps, almost choking from him inhaling new air.
You put your other hand on his chin, moving his head sightly upward so he'd meet your eyes. You pushed your two fingers further, knuckle deep now, he mewled in response. You raised your eyebrow at his stare, smirking at his pathetic noises and moans.
"What, don't you want to cum?" You ask, leaning in closer to his face, "Beg. Or I will stop." His eyes widen and he whines, pulling at his restraints again. "No, no, no, ah, don't stop, please-! No- mmhh, fuck, don't- gah- Don't stop-! Pleaseâ" He's shaking in your hands, moaning from the overwhelming pleasure, feeling himself reaching that high at an incredible speed.
He starts bucking his hips, unsure if he's ready to cum all over your fingers or if he really, really wants the release. Your eyes are half lidded as you whisper, "Keep begging." It was beautiful. You liked seeing this. His breaths were quick as he shook in your hands, the belt making noise as he tried to move his hands again.
"I'm- I'm so close, gah, fuckâ! Please, [name], please please please, fuck, I'm- I'm gonna-" He struggles to keep his eyes open, from how fast he's breathing he starts to feel dizzy, "Don't stop, please, I'm begg- nghâ!"
You quicken your pace, and his body jolts forward. He gasps and moans louder than he did before. He's about to- There's so many feelings currently inside of him, he's not even sure what is happening right now, is he going to cum? Can he even do that anymore after all of this denial? Your fingers feel so good, and they're quick, and he's trying to catch his breath between his moans.
He doesn't have time to think about anything as your fingers hit impossibly deeper, and he snaps with another loud moan that was almost comparable to a whine. His eyes blur, a tear or two running down his cheeks as he shakes, you hadn't stopped yet. You felt his walls tighten around your fingers, indicating his climax, and then you felt something more. As you looked down at the scene, you saw him squirt. Something you haven't seen before.
He himself didn't even register that, mind going blank from the pleasure he finally got to feel. You slowed your fingers down, pressing kisses on his neck in a soothing manner. He blinks a few times, coming back down, heavily breathing. Scara moves his head to the side, trying to look at you. You gazed up at him with a smirk, "That wasn't so bad now, was it, baby?"
He feels his cheeks flush again. "Shut up.."
Thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy the taste <3
Š h0ney-mochi 2024 / Please don't copy or repost my work and writings! <3
#â°⢠â writings#â°⢠â ask box#genshin impact x reader smut#genshin x reader smut#genshin smut#genshin x you#genshin impact smut#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#sub scaramouche#scaramouche x reader smut#scaramouche x you#scaramouche smut#scaramouche x reader
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sorry for being feral just realized I commented on both your wip for you to tag međđđ artrick writers are just so much rarer and i love your writing style
but as for a request, I was thinking maybe stanford!art getting jealous of tashi (since patrick spends all his time with her) but once patrick realizes heâs like âawe baby if you wanted me to fuck you too all you had to do was askâ
omg, first of all, thank you so much! i really appreciate the interest! also, i am SO sorry for how long this took, truly no excuse, i just take forever and am very easily distracted⌠this really got away from me ehtiwjrjsjfjs i lowkey donât know how to keep things short so this is kind of a mini fic⌠i feel like it might be a bit different from your original rec, it ended up being a lot cuter than i had originally thought!
anyway! artpatrick, stanford, 2.5k, m/e
When Patrick walks into Artâs dorm, he immediately knows heâs in trouble.
Art is lying supine on his bedâdoing that thing where he pretends to be asleep but is really just quietly furiousâarms crossed and hat covering what is sure to be a very dower expression.
Patrick double checks his watch, only now registering itâs three hours past when theyâd originally agreed to meet up. He wincesâheâd been in a haze after leaving Tashiâs dorm, high off the sight and sound that is Tashi Duncan in the morning. Sheâd rolled on top of him and his brain leaked out his ears. Heâs only human.
Heâd been late arriving to the Stanford campus the day before and was too tired after hours of driving, so heâd crashed in her dorm. He hasnât even had the chance to see much of Art yet. Patrick feels a twinge of guiltâitâd been some time since his last visitâbut canât help the smile that quirks up at the familiar picture Art makes: pouting and waiting for him. Always with the dramatics, Patrick thinks fondly.
âHey.â He tries, opting to ignore the tense atmosphere heâd just stepped into.
Art doesnât respond, continues lying there like heâs not in the room. Patrick, never one to be ignored by Art, lands on the bed brashly, hard enough to jostle Art in his place with the loud creak of the springs. His dumb, red Stanford hat tumbles off his face, revealing his annoyed expression as he sits up to glare at Patrick directly. âYouâre three hours late.â He finally says.
âI know, Iâm sorry.â He is, is the thing. âTashi and Iââ
Art cuts him off sharply. âI donât need to hear about you and Tashi.â His tone is increasingly harshâArt seems to be getting angrier the longer he looks at Patrick. âDo you even know what you look like right now?â Patrick blinks. He really, really doesnâtâcan only imagine itâs something along the lines of very-freshly-fucked. âIt couldnât be more obvious that you twoââ
âHad sex?â Patrick finishes with a grin. âWhy, is that a problem?â He asks, faux-innocently with a tilt of his head.
Art on the other hand only gets more tense, brows furrowing further as he looks away from him. âItâs kind of fucking gross, yeah.â
âGross?â He scoffs. âMe, having sex with my girlfriend? Are we twelve?â Art twitches at the mention of girlfriend, staring hard at the door as if heâs trying to will Patrick into leaving with just his mind. Like hell heâs going anywhere now.
He shifts even closer, on his knees knocking into Artâs legs. âFigured youâd like it. Smelling her on me. Like a contact high.â
The blonde whips his head back towards him, seething: âCan you just,â He grits through his teeth, âfor one second, not fucking push me?â
Patrick takes a second to think about it. He answers easily and honestly. âNo.â
Something snaps in Artâs eyes, his body language, and it freezes him in his tracks. Art is seriously pissed, Patrick can tell, but he canât help his heart skipping at the sight of him anywayâ hurt, furious, blazing with it.
âI am so sick of your shit,â He says, face burning but voice cold, embittered. âAll I do is justâwait for you like an idiot, or watch you fucking leave.â
The sudden nconfession makes Patrick crumple a little. âArtââ
âNo.â Art only gets more and more worked up as he goes on, fists clenched at his sides. âI just sit around, waiting, and then youâre here, for like, a second, before youâre fucking gone again. Like I donât exist whenever youâre in drooling distance of Tashi. Do you know how shitty that is for me?â
If heâs being honest, guilt isn't something Patrick experiences a lot. Itâs just not how he moves through life. Heâs thoroughly and proudly self involved, with very few exceptions to the rule. But the fact that he could make ArtâArt Donaldson, of all people, feel unimportant to himâit breaks his heart a little. A lot. He figured Art would be pretty upset at him spending all this time with Tashi, hell, he kind of liked the idea. Even more so Tashi spending all this time with him, butâ
Something of a light bulb moment occurs just thenâan unexamined, unacknowledged truth suddenly staring him in the face, loud and clear. A puzzle finally coming together. Which is all to say that, âOh,â Patrick grins, âYouâre jealous.â
Artâs anger burns to a fever pitch, flushing his skin. âThatâs all you have toââ
âYouâre not just jealous of me,â Patrick continues as if Art hadnât interrupted, voice a little awed, smile growing on his face. âBut Tashi too.â He swings a leg over Art and straddles him to deliver his simple, tender finishing blow. He cups one hand gently to Artâs cheek, watches him twitch away before eventually leaning into it. âYou couldâve just said you missed me, you know.â
He can feel the tension finally break as Art sputters, face contorting from confused, to embarrassed, then back to furious. âIââ
âAnd I really am sorry.â Patrick looks him straight in the eye, wanting to get this part right. âIâm bad at this shit, and weâwe never really had to make plans, before.â Up until last summer, Art and Patrick had practically lived the same life. There was no need to establish dates or times to meet. Heâd simply look over, and Art would be there. Heâd figured it as a fact of lifeâArt would always be there for him, waiting.
He doesnât want to make Art wait anymore. He watches Art absorb this, his shoulders softening for the first time since heâd gotten here.
âAnd for the record,â He continues, because he always does have to push, âYou always exist, even when I am drooling over Tashi. I miss you even when Iâm with her. Youâre all we talk about, anyway.â
Art tenses again, this time out of clear surprise. Patrick lets his hand drop from the side of Artâs cheek, down, slowly, to his neck; thumb rubbing at the intersection of his throat and collarbone.
âReally?â He asks, softly, all the air out of his sails.
Patrick shrugs, but heâs smiling, and it gets Art smiling too. âWhat else would we talk about?â
They sit there with a pair of goofy smiles on their faces, chuckling at how quickly their anger had dissipated, before Art shoves him playfully in the chest. He leaves his hand there, warm next to Patrickâs kicking heartbeat. He bites his lip, waiting for something. âArenât you going to tell me you miss me too?â
Artâs soft smile turns into a smirk, eyes crinkling with humor. It gives Patrick butterflies to look at so closely. âNah.â He says, boyish and adorable.
âNo?â Patrick pouts. âNot even if I doââ He takes a quick, measuring breath, praying heâs not somehow off the mark; âThis?â His voice barely above a whisper as he presses his lips to Artâs.
His entire body tingles at the touch, the subtle press of his lips to Artâsâis this what they mean when they talk about sparks? He feels Artâs breath hitch, a tiny gasp of air when their lips part, then Artâs mouth chasing his. Their kisses are soft and short, tentative in this new balance theyâve struck. When he pulls away, Artâs still smiling, eyes closed. Even so, he shakes his head.
Not saying it, his bouncing curls telegraph. They both giggle, giddy with happiness.
Patrick could sit here kissing Art forever, but right now, he has other plans to put into action. A myriad of ways he could make it up to Art flash in his mind, and he's beyond eager to get to work. He rises further onto his knees, kissing down his throat. âStill no?â He rasps.
âU-Uh-huh,â Art breathes shakily as Patrick uses one hand to push him back on the mattress as he makes his way down further. He pulls Artâs shirt up to reveal the expanse of pale, smooth skin, lips tingling and head dizzy at the contact.
Patrickâs kissing his way down his heaving stomach, fingers resting at the waistband of Artâs shorts. He holds onto Artâs hips, slinking further enough down the bed that he can see the effects of his mouth so close to the tent in the blondeâs shortâs, hearing him panting as he appraises it up close.
Artâs a twitching mess under his hands, trying not to get ahead of himself but clearly wanting for moreâthe desperation makes Patrick smile. Without warning, heâs kissing his crotch, mouthing at the fabric to a loud gasp and lingering groan. âOh, fuck, Patrick.â
âMiss me yet?â He mutters, dizzy with his nose digging into Artâs groin, soaking the fabric with brief sucks of his mouth.
Artâs hands lift from their place on the sheets, tentatively gripping at Patrickâs hair, as his groan bubbles into a disbelieving laugh. âPatrick, câmon.â
Patrickâs smiling so hard it hurts his cheeks, dick throbbing in his own pants. He feels so fucking dirty, lapping at him through his shorts. This might be the sexiest thing heâs ever experienced, his head buried in Artâs crotch. âNot till you admit it, baby.â One particularly harsh tug of his hair has him groaning into Artâs clothed dick.
âI fucking missed you, ok?â He looks up to catch the expression on Artâs face; a wobbly grin to mirror his own, cheeks flushed with arousal instead of anger, eyes filled with bemused adoration. âCouldnât stand it. Everythingâsââ He breaths, âEverythingâs so fucking boring without you.â The confession makes Patrick moan and his heart clench. He gestures quickly for Art to lift his hips so he can remove his shorts and toss them aside, mouthing at his thin briefs instead.
âFuuuuck,â Art moans, shivering. Now that heâs started babbling he can hardly stop, and itâs driving him crazy. âPatrick, please, I missed you so fucking much, I miss you all the time, miss youââ Patrick sucks at the tip through the tiny fabric, prompting a string of curses from Art, hips jumping from the bed in pleasure.
As fun as teasing him is, if Patrick doesnât get his mouth on Artâs dick immediately he might actually die. With a quick tug of Artâs underwear it pops out, pink and straining and perfect. Patrickâs mouth waters as he quickly licks a stripe to the top of Artâs cock, tongue swirling at the head.
âJesus Christ,â Art mutters, looking straight at him, both hands deep in Patrickâs curls as he encourages him to take him in his mouth. Patrick acquiesces happily, taking him deeper, cheeks hollowing as he meets his eyes.
He hears Artâs head hit the pillow, sighing like nothing has ever felt better. So it catches him off guard when he says: âIs this what you talk about with Tashi? Hm?â He tugs at his hair again, taking control of the pace to Patrickâs surprised pleasure. âHow badly you want to suck my dick?â
Patrick feels shivers run down his entire body, grinding down into the mattress, moaning on Artâs cock. He pulls off to catch his breath, letting his hand take over as he huffs. Heâs so turned on he can barely think, can only offer a breathy âYeah,â before heâs going back down for more.
He gets an answering âFuck,â in return, Artâs dick throbbing in his mouth as he bobs his head faster. Patrick and Tashi had never really said as much, not in so many words. But everytime she put her fingers past his lips, making him choke on them, the way heâd suck and bite without question, he could see in her eyes thatâs what she was thinkingâand vice versa.
Artâs dick is a lot bigger than Tashiâs fingers, and Patrick fears he may be addicted to the weight of it in his mouth. What a waste to have not been doing this the entire time, he thinks, head fuzzy with how good it feels to finally have Art where he wants him. He sucks harder to compensate, tries to remember all the tricks girls had used on him in the past while his brain is still functioning.
Not that Art would notice any of his attempts to impressâhe can feel how close he is, the way heâs dripping into his mouth, the way his hips buck under his hands, the way his moans ring loud in his tiny dorm, probably through the hall. Moans that sound so sweet, thatâll haunt his dreams, his waking days, for the foreseeable futureâuntil he gets to hear them all over again.
âShit, Patrick,â Artâs voice and body trembles, his thighs quivering underneath his palms. âSo closeâOh shitâPlease please please,â He starts blabbering, drunk and desperate with his approaching orgasm, and Patrick could probably get off just like this, hips rutting into the mattress and Art begging to come in his mouth.
He takes him in a little deeper, almost in his throat now, humming in encouragement; he wants to show him how bad he wants it, tooâand Artâs off like a rocket in no time, entire body arched, overcome with his release. Patrick watches him fall back into the mattress like a puppet with his strings cut, filled with a sense of pride and, also, a mouth full of come.
Heâs not going to make it to the bathroom, figures what the hell, and just swallows. Art gets up on his elbows and watches him do this, watches him lick his lips to get the rest of it and groans weakly, dragging him back up. âChrist,â is all he can manage, pulling Patrickâs lips back on his, tasting himself, while his hand shoves itâs way down his pants. Patrick jolts into him immediately, whimpering into his mouth after being on the edge for so long. Artâs hand starts to move, firm and fastâa little rough from practiceâit has Patrick groaning into Artâs neck, thrusting into his fist.
âMissed you,â Art whispers into his ear, leaving soft kisses to the side of his cheek. Patrick turns, chasing his mouth. Artâs somehow even sweeter after heâs come, voice velvety and earnest as he mutters sweet nothings between kisses, working Patrick up even further. Artâs twisting his hand the way he knows he likes, thumbing his head hard the way Patrick told him to all those years ago, and all that combined with the soft way he says; âMissed this faceââ makes Patrick melt, cut him off with a breathless groan, and come into his fist. Boneless, he collapses into Art, who graciously lets Patrick lie on top of him as he catches his breath, other hand rubbing soothing circles into his back.
They bask in the afterglow for sometime before Patrick pipes up, rolling off him to press up against his side, ankles crossing and legs tangling together. âHappy now?â He mumbles into his neck, and smiles as feels the vibration of Artâs laugh.
âVery.â Art replies, fucked out and satisfied. He turns to his side, hand coming up to play with Patrickâs curls.Â
âGood.â Patrick says around a yawn, sleep closing in faster with every soothing scratch at his hair. He thinks about how Tashi might feel when he inevitably tells her about this development between him and Artâ that sheâll probably be very happy too, so long as they can both make up for excluding her this time. He dozes off to fantasies of all the things he and Art can do for her, content in his best friend's arms.Â
#the teasing is very sweet#and also there r bjs instead of fucking#might be a little different than what u had in mind but itâs where my spirit took me⌠i hope u enjoy!!#artpatrick#artrick#patrick zweig#art donaldson#artrick smut#ask#drabble
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Sub Adam smut pleasepleasepleaspelalslePLEASEPLEASE i NEED that dickhead to be put in his place I am BEGGING (fem reader<3)
my favorite genre is putting adam in his place đ¤ also how do writers make text yellow on mobile all i could find was orange đ



know your place
â adam x f!reader
âincludes : pegging, crying, begging, bondage, edging, bottom!adam, dom!fem reader
heâs pathetic.
adam, the first man, seemed more like an annoying bird than an angel as he kept boasting about his status and yapping about his dumb stories. how could someone so renowned as him be such a brat?
it was clear he needed some training.
and if no one was going to teach him on how to shut up, youâll do it yourself.
âmfphâ! mmmh!â
adamâs incomprehensible whines sounded better than any foolish joke heâd try and tell you.
his mouth was covered, his hands were bound, and his eyes were blinded with the fabric ripped off of his ostentatious clothes.
the tears stemming from his woeful desperation soaked into the makeshift blindfold, but still streamed down his face like a weak river. the way his mouth quivered around the spit-covered cloth was so pathetic that it was almost endearing.
almost.
if only he wasnât such a dick all the time, maybe youâd have some more empathy.
his body is trembles as he arches his back again, a loud cry leaving his restrained mouth once more as you drive your strap inside of him, constantly hitting the spot that made him feel like he was in heaven. or well, another heaven.
the vibrator on his tip certainly was helping him feel like he was ascending too.
although, unfortunately for him, the cock ring stopped him from truly meeting god. or maybe lucifer, considering how sinful this all was.
his wings would flail beneath him like a caught dove, flapping and batting against the soft bedsheets every time he got close.
which of course, youâd follow it up by slowing down both the vibrator and your hips.
it made him wail every time, slamming the back of his head down onto the pillow as he begged for you to let him come.
but how would you know? you couldnât hear any words coming from his mouth.
âi didnât quite catch that, what did you say?â
âmphfâmm!! mhâhmâhmm!â
he couldnât speak even if he didnât have the fabric between his lips. his mind was thoroughly melted, swirling with only thoughts of you and the pleasure he was experiencing. there was no way he could possibly be coherent.
the night keeps going like this. adam, the self-proclaimed best playboy around heaven, getting absolutely ruined by a woman. his weary moans and frail keens fell onto deaf ears. his begging, simply incomprehensible as you show him how weak he was under your touch. he doesnât know how long itâs been, but surely too long!
too bad you donât think so.
later, you finally pull off the makeshift gag after what you deem is enough time for him to remember that heâs just a feeble man when it comes to you. that you were the one who truly had the power around here.
âPLEASE! pleaseâplease please oh, fuck pleaseâ!â his voice would fray as it got higher, drool slipping down his bottom lip as he pleaded.
âplease what?â
âpleaâpleaseâŚha, lemme cumângh!â he grits his teeth as you thrust particularly roughly, raising the speed of the vibrator as you do so. it drives him insane, your cruelty.
âno.â
you could only describe his sound as a guttural scream, crying for you, his true goddess, to let him cum. it reeks of desperation, his writhing, his now jumbled mess of begging, his now breaking spirit.
heâs yours, yours, yours.
he doesnât even realize heâs saying it out loud.
âiâm sorryâiâm sorryiâmsorryiâmsorryâPLEASE!â he whines, hoping that youâd take mercy on someone like him.
and finally, you do.
you were a kind angel after all, unlike him.
you rip the blindfold off of him, welcomed with his perfectly debauched face before lifting his legs over your shouldersâhe really was flexible!âand taking the cock ring off, reveling in his beautifully demolished state.
âwhat do you say?â
âTHANK YOU! thankyouthankyooouâfuckfuck FUCK!â he sucked in a breath before a long drawn out cry tumbles past his cracking lips, and for once, you like whatâs coming out of his mouth.
with your word, adam finds his release, falling from his already corrupted grace. his eyes roll back like heâs died once more, his body, once so animated and jumpy, now stiff for a brief second as he rides his high.
you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you with that glazed over look in his eyes. you donât even know if he can see you, but the action alone made him groan weakly in response.
âknow your place.â you say, releasing his chin.
adam, once so full of himself, nods in agreement, sniffling as he tries to stop his crying.
a lesson well done, you think.
sorry if the words get repetitive ive been having headaches the past few days đ ill pull out my thinking cap soon
tagsâ @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx
#hazbin hotel#sub hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel dom reader#sub adam#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel adam#adam x reader#dom reader#bottom adam
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Mi ValentĂn
Tags: full nelson, butt job, head (m receiving), fingering, hand job, groping, something about free use??? semi public sex porn WITH plot
no use of y/n afab!reader, reader has a fattie sorry but i don't make the rules đŽâđ¨đ
TW!!! I am NOT a writer!! This is just something I do for funsies so don't expect much lol
Sheâs a beefy one so buckle up
Valentine's day is your absolute favorite holiday. A whole mushy gushy day dedicated to showing your significant other, or your friends or yourself to how much you love them and appreciate them. An excuse to dress up and go out, excessive chocolate consumption and give gifts. But, unfortunately, your beloved husband thought otherwise. Â
He never liked Valentine's Day, and he had thousands of excuses too. âWhy is one day out of the whole year meant to show your love when I do it all year long?â Miguel said, rolling his eyes as he chopped vegetables for dinner. Itâs not like he didnât spoil you on Valentine's day, he always took you out to a nice restaurant for dinner and got you some gifts. But he was missing the whole entire point!
âDrop it amor, Iâm plenty romantic as is. Remember when I took you out to that hotel and we spent the night away from the kids?â Miguel asked, his go to excuse when you brought this topic up. He turned to face you, one hand on the counter and the other holding the knife. He had an apron on, with âMilfinâ Ainât Easyâ printed on the chest. You decided it was best not to question, said apron and moved on.
âBut Miggy, itâs my favorite holiday. Canât you not be so cynical for one in your life and humor that your wife enjoys something?â You said, crossing your arms under your chest. He just snorted and continued with his cooking, you scrunch your face and turn your heel, deciding you're not gonna give him the satisfaction of your presence, you leave to go find something to keep yourself occupied or just pout while you wait for dinner.
âYou know itâs a dumb holiday, mi vida. Itâs like how birthdays were invented by greeting card companies to make more money.â Miguel teased as he sat down in bed next to you after dinner.
You frown and roll on your side with your back facing him to let him know how upset you are with him. He sighed and chuckled, he cuddled up against you so he was big spooning you. He ran his calloused palm over your bare leg. âDonât be like that, mamĂĄs. You know I love you, but I just canât get behind a holiday thatâs supposed to be about showing love since I already do that everyday for you,â He pouted, kissing your cheek and patting your butt.
You sighed and sat up, âOkay, you know what. Youâre right, you already do so much for me. I guess itâs a little selfish to ask for more. I just get jealous sometimes, of all my girlfriends who always talk about their partners and how romantic their Valentineâs Day isâŚâ You admitted, it sounded silly when you say it out loud. It embarrassed you, you have an amazing husband who gave you two beautiful daughters and here you are, ungrateful all because of FOMO.Â
âItâs alright, I know what you meanâŚbut letâs not focus on that. I promised weâd never go to bed mad at each other. And weâve had a long day, hmm? How about we get to sleep now? Since weâve got a big week ahead of us,â Miguel asked, kissing your collarbone, he was such a smooth talker it drove you up the wall sometimes. But you nodded, kissing him back and curling up with him in bed.Â
Little did you know heâs been scheming.
One week âtil V-day.
You let go of the whole Valentineâs Day thing, you were embarrassed about getting so worked up about the situation. You got home late from work, Miguel was already gone to watch Gabrielaâs soccer practice and he took the baby with him. You had the whole house to yourself, you sat on the edge of the bed. Sighing as you take off your earrings and heels, you notice something on your nightstand.Â
You look to see a fuzzy little lion plushie with a fancy red ribbon tied around his neck. You smiled softly and picked it up, it was soft in your palms and smelt like strawberries.Â
It was obvious that it was from Miguel, you set it down on the bed and finished getting out of your work clothes. After a nice shower, you put on some cozy clothes and flop onto the bed. The house was clean and there were no chores to do so you got to relax, you sat in bed watching a movie with your new bed buddy. You hugged it to your chest, breathing in the strawberry scented mane.
Miguel came home with the girls a bit after your movie ended, Gabriela skipped into the house with her baby hairs stuck to her forehead from sweat and the remnants of chocolate ice cream on her cheeks. You usher her into the bathroom for her bath before finding Miguel. You wrap your arms around his neck and stand on the tips of your toes to give him a quick kiss.
âWhat was that for?â He chuckled, his hand on the small of your back, the baby on his hip.
âJust a kiss, I saw that stuffy.â You smiled and shrugged, looking up at him through your lashes. âI love him, but you didnât need to get me anythingâŚâ
âI know that, I just saw it when I was at the store and thought youâd like it soooâŚâ He said, his hand snaking up the small of your back to roll his fingers through your hair before pressing a kiss to your forehead.Â
âGracias guapo,â You coo, leaning into him for one more quick kiss before pulling away to give Gabriela her bath.
Five days âtil V-day.
You and Gabriela sat at the kitchen table while Miguel was at work. With baby Esther on your lap, the three of you were hard at work making Miguel his Valentineâs Day present. Since he was always so low key for the holiday, you would do the same. Opting for something cuter and simple that also included the girls.
You already had a hand print of Miguelâs huge, paw-ish hand from an old craft Gabriela made when she was in kindey. You cut out a nice square of paper around the hand print, you carefully painted your own palm and fingers with a soft pink. You pressed your hand over his painted hand print.
Next was Gabriela, you painted her hand with a slightly darker pink color and pressed it over your hand print once it was dry. Then Esther when Gabrielaâs handprint dried, you used a baby safe paint that was a darker pink color then Gabrielaâs. You pressed the babyâs palm gently over her sisters. So it was papa Miguelâs big black hand print, your smaller light pink hand print, Gabrielaâs little hand and then Estherâs teeny tiny hand.
It was perfect, a cute little card from all his girls for Valentines. You let Gabriela paint a couple pink hearts on it and sign it and it was perfect. You take it to write a lovey dovey message on the back and tuck it away in your nightstand once it was completely dry for the fourteenth.
Three days âtil V-day.Â
You looked awful, you tripped in the snow as you hiked your work parking lot to get to your car in front of your boss. When you finally got up out of the slush, you got your hair caught in a branch. Tangling it with leaves and sticks, finally you got home.Â
You trudge up the driveway, it has been snowing and raining all day long. You hated the cold winter weather in Nueva York, you just had to wear heels today as you took big steps over the slush. You finally made it inside the warm apartment, taking a deep breath, your shoulders relaxed. The girls are in the living room watching Bluey with Miguel cooking in the kitchen. You kiss the girl's forehead hello and wobble deeper into the warm kitchen.
âHey mamĂĄs, howâwoof, what happened to you?â Miguel half laughed, pulling his oven mitts off his huge hands. Today heâs wearing a green apron with âBesame soy IrlandĂŠsâ printed on the chest.Â
âI donât wanna talk about it,â You mumbled, brushing the leaves out of your hair. Your whole front is soaked, there was some sort of ice or snow in your bra and your makeup smeared from crying in your car.
âOye, poor mami.â He cooed, wrapping his big arms around your waist and hugging you to his chest. He held you tight, kissing the side of your face.
He helped you untangle your hair and get out of your soaked clothes. He drew a warm bath with bath salts and bubbles, he washed your hair for you once you were in the water. His big calloused hands rubbing your shoulders as he pecked your cheek. His chest pressed against your back, his hand snaked down into the water in front of you. He peppered the side of your face with gentle kisses as he gently rubbed your core with his pointer and middle fingers. His wedding ring was cool against your inner thighs, his other hand cupped your left breast. Massaging it softly, his thumb grazing over your perked nipples.Â
His other hand cupped your sweet pussy, his fingers dipping in between your soft folds and pushing into your wet hole. âMy poor girl, Iâm sorry your day sucked.â He whispered into the shell of your ear, you bit down onto your bottom lip. Holding back whines as he gently begins to pump his fingers slowly, your hands find the edges of the bathtub to grip. Your head rolls back, your eyes shut as a little gasp escapes your soft lips. He smiled into the dip of your neck, still playing with your tits.
His surprisingly tender lips graze up over your neck for an open mouth kiss, catching your wines and huffs in his mouth. You feel his lips twitch into a little smirk, that smug bastard is always so proud of himself. He pulled away, you whined from the emptiness that filled your soft walls now that he took his fingers out, but you immediately perked up when you heard him take his belt off from the loops.Â
Miguel stood up and over to the side of the tub, he slipped his semi hard cock from his boxers. He looked down at you as he pumped his huge hand over his girth, he held you face with his other hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your bottom lip. His way of silently telling you to âopenâ.
You obediently part your pretty lips, he slapped his red tip onto your tongue. He was now fully hard, his cock was perfect. His member is a little darker than his brown skinned body, at least eight to eight and a half inches long. Maybe even ten on a really good day. It was girthy too, with a fat vein on the side of it, it curved up slightly, his groin perfectly shaven besides the happy trail over the base of his length. His balls were heavy, you took him in your mouth. Since he was so big, you always struggled to take him completely.Â
You manage to get a good four inches in and start to bob your head, you look up at him through your lashes. It hasn't even been in you long, but you were already cock drunk. He instinctively began to roll his hips into your jaw, the bathroom filled with lewd squelching, moans, and groans. You gag and your eyes roll back.
Just when things started to get good, the baby screeched downstairs in the living room. Miguel sighed and threw his head back dramatically, he pulled away and pulled his slacks back up
over his hips. You frown and pout, he chuckles and bends down to kiss your forehead. âLo siento, mi corazĂłnâŚâ He muttered, pulling away to get back downstairs to make sure the girls didnât kill each other.Â
You groan a little and sink a little deeper into the warm water.
One day âtil V-day.
You had actually forgotten all about Valentineâs Day. The girls and work had made you forget all about it. You were sitting at your desk at work, typing and scribbling down notes for later when one of your colleagues told you that there was something at the front desk for you. Curious, you go to check on whatever goodie or package was delivered to you. You never get these sorts of things, you couldn't help but be excited as all the possibilities ran through your head. What the receptionist handed you was better than anything you could have imagined.
The front desk person handed you ramo buchon. One hundred pink and white roses were arranged and wrapped, surrounded by matching pink and white babyâs breath blooms tied together by a ribbon. A little white teddy bear with a ribbon and tag sat in the center of the buchon, the tag signed by your secret admirer. It didnât take long to figure out who said secret admirer was, since it was Miguelâs handwriting.Â
You looked at the gorgeous flowers for the majority of your shift, making sure to send Miguel a little âI love youâ text to show your appreciation. Even though he played dumb when you got home, insisting that it wasnât him and someone else must have sent it. He hugged you tight, muttering under his breath how heâs gonna teach that âson of a glitchâ a lesson for daring to make a move on his woman when he finds out who sent it to you. Though you could hear the smile in his voice.Â
âWhen I find them, Iâll teach them a lesson they soon wonât forget for thinking he can just make a move on my woman and get away with it.â Miguel scoffed, kissing the crown of your head. âIâll kill him dead,â He said when you chuckled.
âYou hear me, mariposa? There are some things as a man I simply cannot stand for. And when another man thinks he can have what's mine. And you are mine.â He continued, his forehead pressed against yours as he spoke. âMy woman, my baby mama, mine mine mine.â
He repeated that mantra throughout the night, you curled up against him in bed. Him kissing your forehead with his hands rubbing your sides. Going up and down the dips and valleys of your body. You couldnât help but smile, your face pressed against his neck. âMy sweet mujer,â He sighed dreamily. Peppering your pretty face with gentle kisses.Â
âDid you like the buchon though?â He asked between smooches. You couldnât help but giggle, squeezing your dear husband's hand gently and nodded. Your legs tangling with his, the blankets pulled up over to their shoulders. It was nice and cozy in their little blanket cocoon. Miguel needed a weighted blanket in the winters, that coupled with the fuzzy white tiger blanket on top of it made you both nice and warm.Â
âSĂ, sĂ. Ellos tienen buen gusto,â You reassure him with a smile and a peck on the cheek. He looked satisfied with that answer.Â
Valentineâs Day.Â
You woke up snuggled up in the warm bed with Miguel. His alarm went off weirdly early, you blinked, your eyes crusty in the morning, yawning and stretching your arms over your head. Miguel stirred as you sat up, his hands over your lap, you arch your back to stretch. His almond eyes slowly opened and glanced up at you. He smiled into your waist but didnât move, his morning wood pressing into your plush thigh.
You look down at his hidden face then down into his lap. You smile to yourself and lay back down next to him, your hand snaking down underneath the covers. Already thinking up so many naughty thoughts, tracing down his tummy, following his happy trail, your fingertips teasing the waistband of his sweatpants. He grunted a little as you gently began to stroke his length. You squeezed gently, creating a delicious pressure.Â
He finally âwoke upâ, grumbling into the crook of your neck. Rolling his hips back and forth into your hand. You chuckled, looking back over him. You press a little kiss to his nose, âgood morning, quapo.â You purr into his ear. This was his favorite way of waking up, your hands on his body. Whether you stroked or sucked, his eyes rolled back and toes curled before waking.Â
âGood morning, mariposa, you slept well?â He muttered into your neck, his hand over your chest. He kneaded your pretty tits in his big hands and sighed dreamily.
âI did,â You answer, you roll your palm over his angry red tip. Pearly beads of pre cum dribble out of the head onto your hand. You scoop it up in your fingers, pulling your hand away to taste it. His cum was sweet with a bit of salty, you loved the feeling of his warm seed on your tongue. And he loved seeing you enjoy it, he watched your lap up his pre, a smug look on his handsome face as you swallowed.
Just when you reached to finish the job, he sat up. His erect cock twitching right in front of your face, you were mesmerized. Jesus, you were just a simp. âGabri could just walk i-â You started, he was already reaching to lock your bedroom door. He grabbed you by your waist and flipped you onto your stomach. He reaches into his nightstand drawer to grab something. You look over your shoulder as he ripped your pajama shorts and panties off your body, making you giggle.
He drizzled massage oil on your bare ass, his calloused palms ran over your buttcheeks. You buried your face into the pillows, giggling like a giddy schoolgirl to yourself. He pressed his nose into your hair, breathing in your shampoo, letting out a shuddering sigh, he sat back up on his knees behind you.
He dipped his ring and middle finger between your plush inner thighs, spreading the warm oil over your already wet pussy lips. You shiver but stay as still as possible for him, he bent over your pretty body. Pressing kisses onto your lower back. Muttering to himself as his fingers slip into your slits folds, your velvet walls clenching his long digits. You whine and cuss under your breath as he makes a scissoring motion with his fingers.
âRelax, mamĂĄs, canât have you clenching my dick off.â He chuckled breathily in your ear, making you groan a little. You did your best not to clench on his fingers so hard, you rolled your shoulders and breathed deeply. Burying your face into the silky pillows, you whine as he begins to rock you by pumping his fingers into your weeping hole. Your breath shudders as his free hand down your back to asscheeks, squeezing gently and smacking to make you squeal.
âOye,â You hiss, looking back at him over your shoulder, furrowing your eyebrows. He snickered like a kid and went back to pumping fingers. It didnât take long till your orgasm, it never took Miguel too long to get you to cum. Your nectar pooled in his palm, he smirked proudly, licking
your cum off his hand. You whimper in shame, hiding your red face in the pillows. He chuckled cruelly before slapping his now fully erect member over your thick ass. You squeak as you watch his big hands grab the headboard above you and he begins to hump like a bitch in heat.
He sat on your calves on his knees, his thighs on either side of your hips. The massage oil acts as a lubricant for him to slide his fat cock between your buttcheeks easier. You whine into the pillows, your shoulders hunching and back arching.Â
You let out a soft moan as his shaft dragged over your holes over and over again, making you shiver in pleasure. He let out a soft, satisfied sigh as he took you from behind. You just knew that the smug bastard had a satisfied look plastered all over his face as he humped, spanked and slapped your poor, poor, red ass.Â
He grabbed and groped, before pulling off of you completely. Miguel took his shaft in his paw-ish hand, dragging his leaking tip to your weeping entrance.Â
âMiggyâŚâ You whine, it's been too long since youâve had him all to yourself. Whether it be your respective jobs, family and taking care of two kids under ten. You miss the feeling of him stretching you out, you miss the burn. You missed him making it hard for you to walk the next day, and him eating you out like a starved man, repeating the phrase âIâm sorry,â over and over again as an apology as he palmed his dick.
You missed the burn and the after care and him making you breakfast for you afterwards. His cock slipped inside, not even three inches at first just to get you ready. His fingers stretched you out best he could, but he was getting impatient, and he needed to feel his pretty girl. His hands drifted off the headboard to either side of your head on the bed.Â
Sloooowly, he pushes deeper, you choke back all your noises. You look over at the nightstand on Miguel's side of the bed at the alarm clock, because you apparently married an old man. It was a little after five in the morning, he usually sets his alarm for six, that smug bastard set it early to squeeze a Valentines day quickie before work.
Your thoughts were interrupted by the plap plap plap of his hips hitting your ass and his tip kissing your cervix and the low creaks of your shared mattress. You slap your hand over your mouth, his big hands tighten around the sheets he was clenching. The massage oil and both of your sweat rolled off of eachother, pooling on the bed below you, but youâre too full to care. His length filled you up so good, that you couldnât think to care about the fact youâre ruining your sheets.
âYesâŚâ You whine, your shaky hands clinging to the sheets as he pounds into you.
Miguel laid his body over yours as he slowly bucked into you, you almost preferred it when he was pounding into your poor, abused pussy since then he wasnât torturing you with slow, agonizing strokes. His lips pressed into your ear, his eyes glazed over as he grunted and huffed into the shell of your ear, you loved how vocal he was. How heâd react to your body, how'd he moan and praise you.Â
His arm slithered under your neck, pressing you into a headlock as he rutted against your soft walls. His nose buried into your hair, breathing in your cocoa butter shampoo. He tightened his grip on you until your cheek was pressed up against his bicep, his sweat, musk and the remnants of his cologne from yesterday made you slick.Â
A knot formed in the pit of your belly, his pre mixed with the oils and your slick, coating the sheets with liquids. You really should have put a towel downâŚ-
âSo wet, you like that, don't you?" He growled, his voice deep and husky as he took you from behind. He couldn't resist, he couldn't fight it. He was under your control, he was yours to do with as you pleased. He always portrayed himself as the head of the household, el jefe, but it was a different story once the girls were in bed and the door was locked. He was still very much the dominant, though your pleasure was his priority. He wanted you to be pleased and happy with him above anything else.
âMhmâŚfeels, fuck, so goodâŚâ You mewl, your hips swaying side to side as he slowly rolled his hips into you, your warm walls clenching him. He pulled out until only his tip was in, before pounding back in. Your sweet nectar flowed from your core, you writhed and silently screamed into the pillows. Miguel kept rutting before quickly pulling out, his hot cum spilling down the small of your back.
He let out a satisfied sigh and flopped down on the bed next to you. The giant laid face down next to you, groaning.Â
âJesus, youâre not that old.â You choke out after a minute of basking in each other's sweaty afterglow. âYouâre fine,â You grumble, nudging his calf with your foot.
âIâm just warming down, gimme a minute.â He gruffed, tilting his head to stick his tongue out at you and scrunching his nose. âBleh,â
âOh my god, youâre just like Gabriela.â You snicker, rolling on your back to stretch, and looking over his body. Miguel was on his stomach, one of his long legs off the bed as he pressed his face into his pillow. You canât help but look at him with disgust.
âYou have a ridiculously nice ass for a man.â You pout.
âDonât be jelly,â he scoffed playfully.
âDid Gabriela teach you that word?â
âWhat, âjellyâ?â He asked and you nod. âOh please, Iâm well educated in the field of slang. I know about what the kids are saying, âon fleekâ, âyeetâ, âlitâ, you name it. You married a very educated man, lucky you~â
âIâve never heard anyone say that in literal yearsâŚâ
âWho?â
âHmm?â
âAsked.â He said proudly, you let out a groan. This was just middle school all over again.
âOkay, okay, Iâm done now, mariposa. I promise.â Miguel giggled, grunting a little before rolling onto his back next to you. He snakes a big hand over you and pulls you atop of him.Â
âThis is disgusting,âÂ
âI didnât even-!â âThe sheets, and us. I should get in the showerâŚâ You grumbled, he wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you back down to him as you sat up. Your cheek smushed up to his firm pecs.Â
âTwo more minutes,â He promised, patting your sticky back.
Youâve been getting ready for what felt like hours, your makeup, shoes, hair, jewelry, clothes, accessories. Maybe you were spoiledâŚsat on the floor of your walk-in closet in nothing but your pretty lingerie, your arms crossed under your chest, you mull over your options for the perfect outfit for your and Miguelâs date tonight.
You check the time on your phone and sigh, deciding to take your chances with that one bodycon cami dress you got months ago. It was cute, I guess. You quickly finish getting ready, your finishing touch being a pretty little necklace with a pendant with the letter M engraved into it.Â
The girls were shipped off to your parents house for the night, it was just you two. He cooed and crooned over you, showering you with gifts and peppering your pretty face with kisses. Making your face a little red from his stubble brushing over your cheeks, he booked a nice restaurant nearby for the two of you and came back home for Valentine's Day sex.
After years of marriage and having kids, of course things would often fall into a routine. But after all his gifts and gushing, maybe things won't be so uniform tonight.
The dinner was fineâŚyour alfredo pasta was good so far, and the wine was nice. But Miguel was acting strange ever since you woke him up. He's been red in the face and nervous, which was weird since he was usually so confident and outspoken.Â
He was complaining about the wine being expensive, you look up from your pasta to count his forehead creases.Â
âItâs like I have to hunt a waiter down for a bottle of wine, wine that's nearly two-hundred dollars. RidiculousâŚâ He grumbled, you canât help but roll your eyes as he obnoxiously waved at a waiter.Â
âMiggy, please stop. Youâre acting like my mother.â You mumble after he spoke to the waiter, you watch the poor twenty something year old disappear into the kitchen to get that bottle.
âOh please, even I wouldnât stoop that low.â Miguel scoffed, poking his food with the prongs of his fork like Gabriela did when she didnât want to eat her dinner and sheâd stall for sympathy. You tried making conversation, when that doesnât really seem to work, something more devious appears in your smile as a sudden idea comes to mind.Â
Of course, youâd know how to get him to relax. You prided yourself with that, so you set your little plan to action. You make sure no one in the restaurant was looking in your general direction, you pick up your salad fork, a type fork you may have used twice in your life, and drop it on the fancy dark wood floors of the restaurant. Which, in turn, makes the most loud and annoying âtingâ sound, Miguel gives you a look as you freeze.Â
âGosh, clumsy me~â You quickly reassess, making sure no one is looking, you duck to your knees to pick up the fork that somehow got almost completely under the table. It was one of those circular tables with a long red cloth draped on it to the floor. You sneak underneath without anyone suspecting a th-
âWhat are you doing?â Miguel calmly asks, though you can tell by his tone heâs the human equivalent to a donkey on the edge.
âIâm grabbing my fork,â You answer, though you have passed the fork, crawling on your hands and knees, you make a beeline to your manspreading husband. You rest your chin on the edge of the chair, pressing your soft lips for a fat kiss on his bulge. He jolts when you do, his hands flying to cover his crotch.
âA-amor!â Miguel yelped, his knees hitting the table. Making his wine glass fall, he quickly moved to pick it back up. Giving you just enough time to sloppily unbuckle his belt and pull his slacks down just enough to pull his semi-hard cock out, the table cloth covering his lap up. You smile to yourself before licking your palms to stroke him with both your hands.Â
Once he was completely hard in your soft hands, you took his tip in your mouth. Kitten licking it as you stroked with one hand and kneaded his balls with the other. He was trying (and failing) to mask his whimpers and squeaks by sipping his wine.Â
âSo pretty~â You cooed, slapping his fat cock over your tongue. His pre dripped down his aching shaft from his slit, which you of course greedily lick up. Every noise Miguel made went straight to your sopping pussy, which you were grinding up and down his dress shoe. He grunted, how rude, youâre polishing his cock and shoes, and he dares to complain?
You take a solid four inches into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. You wish you could look at his pretty face as he groans and grunts, you nod your head, attempting to fit more into your mouth.Â
Relaxing your throat, you take a deep breath in through your nose and breath back out slowly before taking him all the way to his base. Your nose nestles into his trimmed pubic hair while your hands snake forward to dip back into his boxers to give his balls a squeeze. Your drool and his pre dripped from your soft lips and down his balls.
Miguel pressed his palm into his lips, his eyes squeezed shut. His free hand on the crown of your head, his fingers tangled with your hair as he guided you. His thighs shuddered, doing everything in his power to not moan loudly in a crowded restaurant on Valentines day. You try to bob your head but he keeps you down on his cock.
He huffed and his hips buckled to push deeper into you, you gag and tears roll down your cheeks. It only took a few more seconds as hot, white ropes shot down your throat and warmed your belly. You swallow quickly, your moans vibrate against him as you ride him through his orgasm.Â
Only when you hear that whimper do you finally slide off of him. Your lips leave the tip with a lewd pop. You give his cock a sweet little kiss, you dry your tears and climb back into your seat, placing your fork back on the table where it belongs with a satisfied smile. He wasnât glaring anymore, he looks much more relaxed nowâŚ
Just from the look alone tells you that youâre in for it when you get home.Â
Before Miguel could say a thing, the waiter zips back over to the table to come check up on your dinner. He was about to leave when he paused.
âYouâve got some alfredo sauce on your lips, maâam.â The waiter said, pointing to his own lips. You squeak out a quick âoh!â and dab your lips with your napkin. Wiping off the âalfredo sauceâ as the waiter ran off to another table.
âDonât,â You sighed, Miguel was smirking, resting his head on his palm. He was relaxed now, and was giggly from the alfredo sauce comment.
âI didnât even say anything~ though you do look cute with alfredo sauce on your lip.â Miguel said sweetly, swirling his wine glass to watch the red liquid slosh in the cup before raising it to his lip to take a sip. His crimson eyes trained on you. Giving you a look that made your previously soaked panties soaking wet and sticking to your cunt.
âThough you are very much still in trouble.â
Your heel made you slip on the icy doorstep, Miguelâs hand on your waist hoisted you upright before you could fall into the snow. âCareful~â He tutted smugly, unlocking the door for you and you rushed inside the warm home.Â
Both you and Miguel had been drinking, you from the embarrassing alfredo sauce incident and Miguel because he was trying to loosen up. Youâre both tipsy and stumbling into the kitchen, you go to the sink to pour yourself a big glass of water to sober up. Just as you gulp down the last sip, Miguel comes up behind you, his big, calloused hands resting on your shoulders, squeezing gently.
His soft lips find your jaw, he massages your shoulders. The wine made him tipsy and went straight to his dick. Your back pressed against his chest and stomach, your hands on the cool surface of the kitchen counter. Signing softly and nearly letting a moan slip as his hands travel down from your shoulders to rub your clothed breast.
You grip the counter, your shoulders going slack and your back involuntary arching. His thumbs brushing over your hardening nipples, you feel his cock hardening from underneath his slacks as he slowly grinds on you. His lips still on your jaw, the tip of his tongue slipping from his lips to press against your soft skin.
Humping your plump ass and squeezing your plush tits was heaven to Miguel, the only thing missing was his cock buried deep into your gushing cunt.Â
Tipsy, he decided thatâs what he needed, he wrapped a beefy arm around your waist and hoisted you up over his shoulder.Â
âMiguel!â You squealed, kicking your feet as you slowly began to sober up. He didnât say anything, just grunting and his hand falling from the small of your back to your butt, pinching the fat to tell you to quiet down. He carried you with ease up the stairs, down the hallway to your shared bedroom.Â
He wrapped his arms around your thighs and flopped you down on your back onto the blankets and pillows. You landed back with a squeak of the mattress, your legs dangling off the edge as he straddled your his. His lips crashed into yours, his cheeks painted in a pink hue, his big hands ran up and down your sides
You parted your lips, catching your whines and huffs in his mouth as he pressed your beefy body into you. Trapping you to the bed with his hands, he leaned over you, his kisses searing as he held your wrists up over your head to keep you underneath him.Â
When he got tipsy, he wouldnât be bothered by foreplay. He needed to get right to the good part, his kisses got hungrier and needier with every second that passed. His hands rubbed down your sides, sliding your dress off your body. His eyes wandered and quickly widening when he saw your lack of anything under your dress.
You went rogue on him, you ditched your lingerie in the restaurant bathroom, since your panties were soaked and uncomfortable, and because you too wanted to get to the main event as soon as possible~ He stripped and sat down on the edge of the bed with you on his lap in his favorite position, full nelson. Your legs bent up to fold you in half, your knees on either side of your head with his arms bending you back with his fingers locked with each other behind your neck. It was sort of uncomfortable, but the second he moved his hips, you forgot all about it.
He thrusted sloppily into you, you threw you back on his shoulder almost immediately as his tip practically kissed your womb the first thrust. He didn't stretch you out prior, the burn was enough to make you scream. His hips jutted up and down, your ass slapping down against his pelvis. Filling your bedroom with the sweat slaps of skin hitting skin and your lewd moans.Â
Your eyes flick up and cross, heâs been at it for hours it feels like when he actually just started.
âPlease, Miggy,â You mewled in his ear. He ignored you, peering over your shoulder to watch your pretty titties bounce from how he was rocking you. Miguel looked angry, like he usually did during sex. Grabbing your hair he roughly pulls making your back arch suddenly âFucking ride it,â he commanded in a harsh tone.Â
Feeling him throb in you, you're ready for more, slowly start raising your hips and bringing yourself down the best you could when you squished and bent into the position. You felt the knot in the pit of your tummy tightening as he speared into you, a ring of cream wrapped around the base of his angry, twitching cock.
All night long, the man fucked you like a fleshlight. Making you cry tears of pleasure and scream his name for all your neighbors to hear. Your knot snapped for what felt like the umpteenth time, your orgasm ripped through you in waves.Â
That didnât stop him though, heâs fucking you like heâs trying to mold your gummy walls to fit his, and only his cock.Â
Painting your womb white with ribbons of hot cum for the sixth time, he finally letâs go. His hands slightly raised as if admitting defeat as his chest rose and fell. Sweat rolling down his body as you crawl onto the bed to try to cool down. He falls down on his stomach next to you on his side of the bed.Â
You poor thing have been put through the wringer, youâve came too many times to count, been came in too many times to count, cried, screamed and moaned. Your throat and poor, slutty, pussy been played with and fucked ruthlessly. Your eyes are half lidded when Miguel rolled onto his side to face you.
âAmorâŚ?â Miguel whispered, his voice hoarse.
âHmm?â
âI need to admit somethingâŚI sent you the ramo buchon, even though I told you that your secret admirer sent it to you.â He admitted sheepishly, like he was an embarrassed kid owning up to taking a cookie. It made you chuckle sleepily.
âYeahâŚI had a hunch,â You smiled, taking his hand in yours and running your thumb over his knuckles. He seems genuinely surprised you knew it was him.
âHowâŚ-you know what, never mind, mariposa. Happy Valentine's Day to the loveliest girl in the whole multiverse.â He smiled sweetly, bringing your hand to his lips and kissed it softly.Â
âThank you, mi ValentĂn.âÂ
#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#2099<3#domestic miguel#writing#fics#fluff#spiderman 2099#smut#valentines day#miguel x reader#miguel x you#miguel o'hara x afab!reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o'hara valentine#be my valentine#happy valentine's day#happy valentines#miguel o'hara imagine#imagine miguel
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May i request a baby bat (preferably male) that's left at home with a babysitter (it was after Alfred's surgery or he could just be sick but he's resting) while everyone is out on missions and the babysitter is completely ignoring the babies cries for food and a diaper change while titus is trying to comfort him (btw i noticed that you write titus as doberman even though he's a great dane? Please don't take offense i didn't know if this was on purpose or not so i just thought I'll point it out!) baby ends up crawling out of his crib, out of the doggy door and into the streets in only a diaper and shorts and of course titus is right behind, every time baby tries to go into traffic titus is gently nudging him away with his snout , every time a random person tries to pick up the baby and take him to the police titus is not having it, until eventually word reaches the batfam about this and they go to investigate and the unbelievable anger they felt after watching the camera footage of inside their house, you can choose what happens to the babysitter but family fluff with the baby please! Sorry if this is long i just heard from other writers that the more details they have the easier it is to write, thank you!
Okay, thank you for pointing it out that Titus is a great dane because, I could swear on anything, that Titus is a Doberman. I'm not sure whether or not I need new glasses or a new brain. And don't worry, I'm not offended, just shocked that I'm that dumb and blind. Either way lets get to writing.
Summary: (Y/N) has to be babysat by somebody outside of the family. It doesn't end well.
Warnings: child neglect, Titus is the best dog, the batfam loosing their minds, again child neglect if anyone is sensitive to that, babysitter is awful.
This GIF is in honor of Titus and I know Titus isn't the same color, but it's too cute.
Bruce was very hesitant to leave his young son with an outsider. He was a baby and Bruce might be protective, but this is his first son who was a baby, so unable to defend himself, so vulnerable. Jason sometimes said a bit stupid, but that they had a sense of who was who.
Whenever he cried, Bruce was the one to calm him down. And (Y/N) could tell when to do help out the family. He still remembers how Lex took him from his arms and Jason was ready to deck him. What did (Y/N do?
Threw up on a very expensive Italian suit. Bruce was apologizing, but with absolutely no sincerity in his voice. Jason took (Y/N) at the time, cooing at the baby, wiping his mouth with a tissue.
Bruce was impressed with how much babies had a sense for people. Maybe that should have been thinking of that when he hired the babysitter. (Y/N) was fine with Bruce, but with the babysitter he got a bit fussy. But Bruce brushed it off, thinking it must be because she is new. But Bruce had no choice. Alfred is recovering and they are swamped with missions.
And it seems that (Y/N) was right about his feeling about this babysitter. After caring for a few hours, (Y/N) was forgotten. Bruce had given the babysitter a very specific schedule on when (Y/N) was supposed to be fed and when he was going to go to sleep.
(Y/N) was crying, because he was hungry. He was squirming in his crib, the diaper heavy due to being unchanged. The only person who seemed to care, well, an animal who seemed to care was Titus, Damian's dog. The Great Dane fell in love with (Y/N) from the moment he has seen him as a newborn.
Everyone was slightly worried, but the Great Dane was great with (Y/N). Always near him, always coming to check on him when he is crying, or just to watch him play. Even when Damian is taking him for a walk or just to play outside, he always has to have (Y/N) watching. So more often then not, Damian is carrying (Y/N) in a baby carrier while in the yard with Titus.
And Titus came to (Y/N)'s room, wondering why his baby brother was crying. He sniffed his hands and gave them a lick to comfort his brother. (Y/N) stopped crying for a second, but he still sniffled. Titus sniffed down at the diaper. He whined a bit from the smell too.
Bruce said that Titus had a superpower when it came to (Y/N)'s diapers. Although just a good sense of smell, Titus alerted everyone when (Y/N)'s diaper needed to be changed. Anyone he could find, he would lead them to (Y/N).
Now (Y/N) was slightly less upset, but still upset. Titus tilted his head when he saw how (Y/N) turned on his stomach and started moving through a small opening. (Y/N) was now crawling out of the room and Titus followed. The babysitter was laughing on the phone, laughing at whatever the friend said.
(Y/N) crawled to the kitchen, stopping for a second. He moved to the back door, crawling through the doggy door. Titus followed without hesitation, walking right behind (Y/N).
Eventually, they have reached the city. Titus was never a fan of it, believe it or not. He preferred the backyard and its quietness. He never liked the smell of it either.
(Y/N) tried to get to the road and Titus was quick to push him away from them. They continued walking and it looked like something out a movie. Maybe a children's cartoon.
And not a good one.
A lady tried to pick (Y/N) up, but Titus made a biting sound at her, not wanting her to take his baby brother. She backed off and (Y/N) continued on his adventure. Well, there was some luck to it. James Gordon aka Jim Gordon was driving by and stopped the car.
He met the family and they were good friends. He recognized Titus and he recognized (Y/N). He stopped the car and got out, moving towards the animal baby duo.
" (Y/N)! What are you doing here champ? " Gordon said, crouching down in front of the baby. Titus bared his teeth, but relaxed when he saw that it was Gordon.
" And what are you doing here Titus? Either way, lets get you both to the station. "
(Y/N) was picked up and Titus waited in front on the passengers side. Gordon opened it and Titus squeezed himself in. Gordon sat back inside and went directly to the station. He needed to change (Y/N)'s diapers and call Bruce Wayne. Something is off.
Bruce was on the way back home, just ready to crash. His kids were with him too and they all wanted to see (Y/N) after being separated for so long. It felt awful. All of a sudden there was a call in the car. Bruce accepted, not even looking at who it was.
" Yes? "
" Hey Bruce, it's Jim. There is some news about your youngest. "
Everyone was alert now.
" What do you mean? "
" He was found wandering the streets. Titus was with him, moving him away from the traffic. Is anyone watching him? "
" Babysitter is supposed to... Why? " Bruce asked, now worried.
" Well, he was in a desperate need of a diaper change and a bottle. He downed a bottle. "
Bruce was speechless. What!?
" Okay, I'm going to the station now, I also have the camera feed on my phone so I can check what the hell happened. " Bruce said, taking his phone out. He unlocked and handed it to Tim next to him.
" Tim, check the footage. I want to know what's happening. " Bruce said, taking a sharp turn.
" Hang on, let me find it. " Tim said, looking for the said footage.
Bruce floored the gas pedal, making sure to be fast as possible. He parked with a screech and everyone got out of the car. Bruce and the others went inside, moving quickly to the offices and they saw Titus and people around him, just petting him, but Gordon was sitting in the chair with (Y/N) on his lap.
" Hey Bruce. " Gordon said, watching the distraught father taking his son into his arms, cooing and swaying him.
" Oh my son, what were you doing in the streets? " Bruce said, kissing his son on the head. Titus went to Damian and Damian gave him scratches and praises.
" Good boy, you followed (Y/N) and made sure he was safe. "
" I have something B. It seems that the babysitter ignored (Y/N). " Tim said and everyone crowded around Tim to see. Everyone in the room looked in shock as they watched the babysitter ignore (Y/N). Titus was there to comfort him at least.
" Oh no. Oh hell no old man. " Jason said, clenching his fists.
" Don't worry mister Todd, we will arrest her. " Gordon said.
" Good. Oh my poor brother. Hand him over. " Jason said, taking (Y/N) into his arms.
" Damian, remind me to buy Titus everything he wants next time we go to the pet shop. " Jason said, kissing his brother's head.
" Will do. Now can we go to the manor to arrest her? " Damian asked, and Gordon agreed.
The babysitter walked out of the manor in cuffs, protesting. Bruce didn't waste his words, he went to his room and laid down on the bed and then laying (Y/N) down on his chest.
The others filed in, laying down to Bruce on both sides. They were comfortable on the Alaskan bed, happy to be near their baby brother.
" Night everyone. " Bruce said.
There were murmurs of good night and all of them could finally fall asleep, with their baby brother near them. Oh and Titus?
That good boy, no, the best boy laid down at the foot of the bed, also guarding the little boy.
#dc comics#dc x male reader#batfamily#x male reader#batkids#batman x child!male reader#bruce wayne#batman#platonic relationships
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I canât tell if your requests are open or not, so iâm sorry if they arenât and just disregard this <3 Can I request ANYTHING with MK1 Bi-han, iâm down ASTRONOMICAL for him. if you want me to get specific something where heâs learning how to be affectionate and (ironically) less cold with you đ to me it seems like heâd be more of a physical touch/actions kind of person, even though that may be few and far between especially at first. also can i just say youâre the best mk writer iâve seen âĽď¸
NOTE:Â They are! I just struggle with writing them sometimes, so Iâm MUCH slower at making them than my New Era chapters, but they are!
<3 Thank you for requesting and being so lovely <3 Sorry for how long the wait was! I kinda treated this like a character study + my headcanons for the man.
Also I couldnât tell if this was s/o or not so I just defaulted to crush?
The fic is set to be kinda ? told in his POV, but in second still. Youâll see! Also I kindaa got carried away at the end so maybe ??? a bit ooc. I just like writing people pining.
FOR YOU [SUB ZERO X READER]
Doing small things for others' convenience was not something Bi-Han was used to doing, nor was he known for doing these things.
âGet up.â Bi-Han stood over you, from where he had swept you and sent you tumbling to the floor. There were a few moments of silence as he watched you hesitate, staring up to him bewildered. Why were you confused? The command was simple enough. You stared at his hand, seeming lost in thought. He rolled his eyes.
How was this the person who could go toe to toe with him?Â
âAre you deaf?â He asked you, his stare turning into an icy glare.Â
Why did you look so lost?Â
Sure, he had never helped you off the ground before, Bi-Han could give you that. The reasons behind this was simple, he was just simply tired of hearing his brothers nag him for leaving you on the floor. Itâs not like he helped any others up during sparring. They were capable of getting up themselves, they did not need their grandmaster to coddle them.Â
Just because heâs known you for a while, why should you be the exception?
Still, their complaints were tiring and bothersome, so he decided to try to help you up for once. Maybe that would settle their complaints. They were always pushing him to be a little lessâŚicy. Plus, out of anyone, he supposed doing this for you would not be the worst. Sure, you tried to hang around him constantly, but your company wasnât unpleasant he supposed.
Bi-Han growled as he watched you still lay on the ground, staring at his hand. With a huff, he lunged forward, grabbing your hand for himself. He was going to help you up one way or another, dammit. You were not going to be the person to deny his kindness. Hoisting you up, he was caught off guard as you collided with his chest.Â
Did he hit you so hard during training that you were acting dumb all of a sudden?
With a grunt, he steadied you, holding you by your waist. His hands settled quite nicely there, and his hands instinctively squeezed. Your hands were on his chest, as you righted yourself properly. He sent you another glare, this one more instinctual than intentional. You seemed caught off guard, confused, and so many things all at once.
You were confusing.
What was even more confusing was the fact that his mind seemed to want to capture this moment, wanting to sear the memory of you being in his arms permanently in his head. His hands twitched, and his lips pursed at the thoughts that invaded his head. He pushed them away, shooing them away like annoying flies.
A grandmaster should not be plagued by suchâŚodd thoughts.
He sighed as he let go of your waist once you seemed steady enough. You shot him that sunny grin of yours, and commented on how his heart was finally defrosting. It seemed that you finally had your senses back. In return, Sub Zero frowned as he crossed his arms. You always had a knack for trying to make puns out of his powers. Still, despite the disapproving looks he always sent you, you never stopped.
Bi-Han wasnât sure to think of you as brave for not caring for his warning glares, or stupid for ignoring them. He was inclined to think of the latter. Would you so brazenly ignore a wolf staring you down with predatory eyes? And yet, a small voice in his head told him otherwise.
He didnât quite like nor agree with the voice. Honestly, he didnât even know what to make of the voice in the first place.
âSatisfactory job for today.â Bi-Han said, and he felt a strange sense of satisfaction as you beamed at his words. You were always too eager to accept any positive words from him. You gave his shoulder a pat and scampered off, probably to eat since it was around dinner time now.Â
He stood there for a bit longer, watching you disappear, and watching the place you last were before you turned the corner. He frowned as he realized he had been staring. How ridiculous, why had he been staring? With a grunt, he turned around and stalked off to his office.
He couldnât get the feel of your hand out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.
Bi-Han was not known for little acts of kindness.
âYou need to eat.â Bi-Han scolded you, shoving a bowl full of food in your hands. Your fingers brushed, and he pursed his lips, not knowing what to make of the tingle it left on his skin. Heâs been more oddly aware of his skin whenever he was around you lately, and he wasnât quite sure why.Â
He watched as that stupid confused look overcame your face again as you took it. It always happened whenever he did things like this, but never with anyone else. He felt a bit offended every time. It wasnât as if he was incapable of kindness. It didnât sit right with him the idea that you thought he was incapable of it. You looked at him, opening your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.Â
âYou didnât eat breakfast this morning.â He mentioned, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Which it was. Anyone, if they were paying even a smidge of attention to you, would notice how you failed to eat this morning. It actually has been a few days since youâve eaten breakfast, leading to you complaining and being famished by lunchtime. It had begun to bother him.
Was it just him who noticed these things about you? You even seemed surprised by the information he told you.
How foolish.
âDid you make this?â You asked, peering at the food as you prodded the rice congee with the spoon. Bi-Han nodded, and he felt a strange fluttery feeling in his chest as you took a bite and hummed in delight. You were too pleased by this simple cooking, this was a meal that a child was capable of making. He didnât like how he craved more of your approval. âThis is really good! Thanks Bi-Han!â
Your praise made him feel content. Much to his chagrin, Bi-Han felt his mind churn out some ideas. How would you react if he made you something special instead of this simple breakfast? Certainly you would be more impressed, why shouldnât you be? His cooking was sufficient. Maybe youâd even praise him more.
Maybe he should make you some more food, sometime.
âYou should be eating breakfast, itâs stupid to skip meals.â The cyromancer continued to berate you with a frown. He didnât like the idea of you skipping meals, it feltâŚwrong. He watched as you, through a mouthful of food, tried to excuse yourself. He sent you a glare. âThere are no excuses. Even a child knows not to skip a meal.âÂ
âBut-â
âI just said no excuses.â Bi-Han said, shutting you down with a tone of finality. You sent him a sheepish look, one that told him that you were honestly, and truly sorry. You didnât have any malice behind your actions, at least. He sighed, leaning forward to meet your gaze. âJust so you donât go running around without at least some food in your stomach, Iâll make you breakfast.â
âReally?â You said. You blinked in surprise, and he nodded. You smiled at him, and he closed his eyes, ignoring how his mind wanted to save that imagery. âIâd like that a lot Bi-Han, thank you.â He nodded, opening his eyes to send you a small glare as he ignored the flutter in his chest.
âYou need to wake up earlier though, so you have time to eat.âÂ
âThatâs worth it.â
Bi-Han was not known for letting others close to him.Â
âHold still!â
You swatted his shoulder, huffing as you glared at him. Your confidence around the grandmaster was almost astounding to the rest of the Lin Kuei. Not many would not even think of glaring at the man, let alone swat his shoulder in annoyance. And yet, here you were, doing just that. The oddest part of it all was that Bi-Han was letting you.
Well, more like tolerating you.
Your efforts were not without some push back from Bi-Han. You received your fair share of glares, huffs, and scoffs. And yet, you ignored all of those. The glares he sent your way were deflected, as if they were mere stares. His huffs and scoffs were like entertainment to you. He watched as your grin grew whenever he did these.
When did you stop fearing his intimidating presence?Â
Did you ever fear him in the first place?
Bi-Han was left brooding as you tended to his wounds. He felt like a sheltered, pampered dog with a person who fussed far too much over him. His lips pulled into a frown as you pulled his arm into place, making sure to grip it tightly so he could not move and mess up your delicate work.Â
âIâm trying to stay still.â Bi-Han grumbled, his voice sounded resigned as he let the arm you worked on go limp. He had learned well enough from your previous efforts that resistance was futile. You would probably chase him down to the ends of the earth to dress his wounds. The thought alone seemed ridiculous.
Then again, it was you. And he wasnât sure when he stopped minding it when it was you.Â
âWell, try harder!â You sassed, rolling your eyes. The grandmaster kept his eyes on yours, finding them more interesting than anything else in the room. No, he was not fawning over your eyes. Such a notion was unfounded. He simply didnât think anything else was interesting.
Thatâs it. Thatâs all.
Your eyes were simply just more interesting than the same old training rooms heâs known since he could remember. Honestly, most things were. But your eyes were especially a standout. They held a certain quality to them. A warmth that could not be replicated, not even by his younger brotherâs pyromancy. No, it was unique. Something he couldnât quite place.Â
Bi-Han felt his breath catch as your eyes, the ones he definitely did not find fascinating, met his own eyes. You certainly had to have some sort of magic within your blood. It was impossible that you didnât in some capacity. After all, why would he be unable to look away if that wasnât the case?
âWhat?â Bi-Han asked, his voice rumbling as he continued to look at those strange eyes of yours. He watched as they narrowed once again at him, like he did something wrong. He couldnât have, though, all he did was stare at you. And you never once complained about it.
âDid you even hear what I said?â You nagged. Realization trickled in, and Bi-Hanâs first instinct was to frown. He most certainly did not hear what you said. It wasnât his fault though. He was far more focused on trying to figure out your eyes than to hear whatever you had been going on about.
Not that he disliked your voice. It was nowhere near ear splitting and headache inducing. Heâd never admit it, but it was the complete opposite of that. And by complete opposite, he meant it was tolerable. Nothing more, nothing less.
Seriously.Â
âNo.â Bi-Han bluntly replied, knowing that youâd chew him out if he even bothered to lie. You seemed to read him better than he could read you. It was a bit frustrating. He wasnât exactly an open book, yet you made him feel like one. Meanwhile, you were open with almost everything and almost everyone. So why could he not figure you out?
âI said you need to be more careful.â You repeated, an exhausted tone in your voice. He frowned, both at your insistence and your condition. Have you been skipping out on sleep again? After searching your face, he determined that no, you were just exhausted by him.Â
âI am careful.â He retaliated, dropping his gaze to look down at his hands. They were clasped together as he hunched over. He detested the way his mind started to drift back to thoughts of you again. How would your hand fit in his? Were your hands soft and gentle? Or were they rough and calloused like his? Were they warm? Cold?
Why did he always think of you?
âClearly, youâre not careful enough.â You nagged. For emphasis, you tightened the bandage you were wrapping around his bicep. He should not like the fact that you were concerned over him. He didnât need you to be concerned over him. âHonestly, for being grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, I thought youâd be more careful.â You muttered.
Bi-Han sent a half hearted glare your way, being met with one of the same intensity. He couldnât even muster up a retort to send your way. It was just because he knew you wouldnât care whatever harsh comment he had. Thatâs it.
His mind fixated on the gentle way you smoothed out the bandages. Your fingers tracing over his muscles such care that was foreign to the cryomancer. It feltâŚdomestic. His heart skipped a beat at the idea of a domestic life.
Since when did he crave for those kinds of things?
âSomeday I might not be here to patch up your wounds.â You threatened, but both he and you knew it was a half hearted lie. You would always be there to bother Bi-Han. Whether it be to nag him, make stupid jokes, or just toâŚbe there.
Heâs grown soft, he realized, if heâs actually grown to tolerate you and your presence without too much thought. Looking back, the man realized that, heâs actually grown to be used to you being with him for a while now. This realization would have made the man angry or terrified long ago.
Now he was justâŚokay with it.
And so Bi-Han sat there, with the overwhelming realization that heâs grown to trust you.
Bi-Han was not known for being vulnerable.
The grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, as much as he would never admit it, is very much human.Â
He had dreams. Dreams of ascending to higher things than just being a member of a clan that listened to a god to a drop of a hat. He had aspirations of growing stronger and better than he was now. He had flaws, much like any other person. He was ambitious to a fault and was too harsh and blunt, even to his own kin.Â
But most of all, Bi-Han felt weaknesses.
It wasnât often, but he sometimes thought of his parents.
Bi-Hanâs relationship with his father was strained. To be the firstborn of a clan that was so revered meant he had a lot of expectations on him since he was born. He had to command respect without being harsh. He had to be confident, but not cocky. He had to give up who he was, or wanted to be, for the clan. Because Bi-han was now the clanâs life blood.
The cyromancer never asked for such a destiny. But who was he to deny a path to power since birth? He supposed it was only worthy of him, as he rose to the challenge when he knew many would crumble under the immense pressure. He alone withstood the harshness of his fatherâs teachings when others did not see that side of him.
No one else had to see the sheer disappointment in his fatherâs eyes everytime he did not live up to his expectations.
It was suffice to say his father expected much of him. Bi-Han, after all, was going to inherit a lot of power and responsibility. It was only fair. Still, bitterly, the cyromancer remembered how much easier his brothersâ expectations were. But it was fine. It was not as if they were trained to be the next grandmaster of a clan.
It was probably for the better, for now he was a man who could hold his own.
Still, sometimes he wished, deep down, that he had a father instead of a teacher.
Bi-Hanâs relationship with his mother was better. Where his father surmounted a lot of pressure upon his son to forge him into a diamond, his mother took care and time to polish him. The man was ever thankful for and adored his mother.
When father had been harsh, she had always been there to provide guiding words to help quell his fears. She gave him compassion and kindness in his times of need. His mother had always been proud of him, even when he felt as if he fell short.
Bi-Han had been hit the hardest by his motherâs death.
Tonight was one of those nights where his weaknesses managed to snag their claws into him and tear at his chest. Lying down on his bed, he stared up towards the ceiling. It was dark in his room. He preferred it that way. But the cover of darkness did not help his mind as he looked into the inky black darkness.Â
Though he did not feel the chill of his own powers, he knew that the temperature in his room was dropping quickly due to his lack of self control. He should have better control than this. The old man would despise this as much as he despised him.
He needed water. Water would help him get back into the right mindset.
Bi-Han trudged towards the kitchen, a layer of frost following in his wake. Thoughts of the parents he no longer had filled his mind as he went, trying to drag him down. Shards of ice born from his irritation grew on his forearms.Â
Why were the dead haunting him so much?
It was irrational for him to allow them to have such a chokehold on his thoughts, even after all this time. The cyromancer owed them nothing. He had no need for them to whisper into his mind, telling him how he needed to be more than he was now. How Bi-Han was still not enough,
The knob on the kitchen grew icy as he gripped it. Fragile shards dropped as he turned, shattering like glass on the floor. His steps felt like molasses as he walked towards the sink. The glass he grabbed immediately grew cold, almost threatening to shatter in his hands.
He glared at the sink as it refused to relinquish the water he desperately needed. Bi-Han felt his frustration grow, and he clenched his fists. He trembled and shook from anger. He was the grandmaster, dammit! He should not be struggling with any of this.
The glass shattered in his hand.
âBi-Han?â A voice rang out amongst the whispers in his head. He froze, the ice on his hands sticking to the sink like his fatherâs teachings stuck to him. Like a cornered animal, Sub Zeroâs head whipped around and he glared instinctively at the intruder.Â
It was you.
You stood in the doorway, eyes wide as you looked at the mess that was Bi-Han. He cringed inwardly, detesting how you saw him at his lowest. Slowly, you stepped into the room, looking at the shards of ice and the frost that had overtaken the room.
âAre you okay?â You asked, now in front of Bi-Han. Instead of the fear he had imagined in your eyes, you only showed concern. Slowly, you reached out a hand to cradle his now bleeding hand. You examined his hands, taking out the bandages you seemed to always carry for his sake and began to patch him just like you always did.
The words Bi-Han wanted to say caught in his throat as he stared at you. He was bewildered. Why were you not running? Why were you still here? It was illogical for you to be staying here when he was likeâŚthis.Â
âI saw all the ice.â You said, your voice gentle and soft. It soothed the pain. It silenced the whispers in his head. âI was worried for you.â You murmured, your gaze focused on his hand that you held so carefully, as if it would break if you breathed too hard.
Normally, he hated being treated lesser than he was. But he knew with you, that wasnât the case here.
âSorry if Iâm overstepping butâŚâ You said. You paused, uncertain over something. Then, slowly you wrapped your arms around him, giving him a warm gentle embrace. For a moment, Bi-Han stood there stiffly, not knowing what to do. This type of affection was lost to him.
Slowly, though, he wrapped his arms around you too.Â
And he sobbed into your shoulder.
Bi-Han, most of all, was not known for being soft.
Standing outside in the garden, you stood by his side. You always seemed to find your way there. Bi-Han could not think of a better place he would rather you be. It only felt right that you were there, after everything youâve been through with him.
The cyromancer glanced at you, letting out a breath as he saw the frost nip at your nose and cheeks making them flush. Bi-Han, in that moment, was jealous of the gentle snow and cold and how it brought the color to your cheeks.
It should be him.Â
If he made a light snowstorm like the one surrounding you both, would you look at him with even a fraction of the admiration he held for you? If he made an ice sculpture dedicated for you, would you swoon for him and fall into his arms?
No, none of those felt right.
He watched silently with thinly veiled admiration as you spread out your arms, embracing the cold weather. A large smile pulled at your lips, and it also pulled at his heart. The joy on your face was nearly infectious, and he had to fight to keep his lips from quirking up. And yet, if you were to open your eyes and look over, you would see the ghost of a smile on his lips.
No person should have this amount of control over another over a damned smile, and yet here you were. You were able to make the icy grandmaster smile without lifting a finger. All you had to do was to have to smile. By the Netherrealm, you could just look at him at this point and his heart would be jumping for joy.
You had him wrapped around your finger, did you know that?
No. Of course not. You were too oblivious to his feelings. If you did, you would and should be trying to hug him, and not the snowflakes that surrounded the both of you. So instead, Bi-Han just admired your all too perfect face, trying to commit the sight to memory.
By the elder gods, he really wanted to kiss you.
âIsnât the snowfall just wonderful?â You asked, peeking open an eye to look at him. Bi-Han, snapping out of his stupor, crossed his arms like he guarded his heart. He paused, trying to think of something, anything.Â
What should he do? Should he try to flirt? No, knowing you, youâd probably laugh at his attempt and think he was trying to make a joke. That, and flirting wasnât really his style anyways. That was something the arrogant actor would do, and he wanted you to fall for him, Bi-Han. Not Johnny Cage.
So instead he just nodded.
It seemed a sufficient enough answer for you. Your smile grew, and Bi-Han wondered for a moment if you were the embodiment of the sun. No, of course not. You were far more radiant than that stupid star, if anything, the universe should revolve around you.
His world already did, anyways.
âItâs nice to have something gentle for once, itâs usually a blizzard out here!â You exclaimed, and Bi-Hanâs mind couldnât help but to run in circles over your words. Did you prefer a gentleman? The ghost of a smile on his lips disappeared, replaced with his usual frown.Â
He wasnât exactly a shining definition of a gentleman.
âAw, you stopped smiling.â You pointed out, and Bi-Hanâs heart skipped a beat. So you werenât as oblivious as you seemed. You noticed his smile, and even seemed to mourn the loss of it. Did you like it? If he were better at it, heâd smile just for you. His lips pursed, and he suddenly wishes he could smile on command. Heâs never wanted that before.
Bi-Hanâs eyes wander, and they look towards you hair and the snowflakes that decorate it. You looked absolutely ethereal. It was like the universe was trying to set him up for failure. How could the universe decorate you just soâŚperfectly?
âMan, I should have brought gloves.â You complain. You bring up your hands, which were trembling slightly from the cold. You exhaled into them before rubbing them together to try and bring back some warmth into your body.
âHere.â Bi-Han said, and his body worked faster than his mind as he grabbed your hands. For a moment, he was pleased with himself. Then, in the next, he felt foolish. His hands were probably cold, what was he thinking? He stared at you, trying to gauge your reaction to his impulsive actions.
At first, it was shock. Then, that melted away into something that feltâŚbashful? Bi-Hanâs heart skipped a beat, and he forced himself to engrave the look on your face into his brain. He never knew someone could look so breathtaking.
âOh, thank you.â You said, your face becoming ever more flushed. The grandmasterâs heart swelled with pride and joy. He made you feel this way. Certainly that had to mean something, right? You bit your lip, and he couldnât help but be entranced. How could someone have such kissable looking lips? âIâŚumâŚI need help with something else tooâŚâ You trailed off, swallowing as you nervously looked away.
âHm?â Bi-han hummed, entranced by the usual shyness. He leaned ever closer, eyes searching your face. Whatever it is you wanted, he would give.Â
âMy lips are cold too.â You managed to mumble out, before giving him the most hopeful smile heâs ever seen. Bi-Hanâs lips grew into a soft smile as his stomach did backflips. He leaned forward, until his lips hovered just a breath away from yours.
âI can help with that.â
Then, he gave you a kiss.
Bi-Han was not known for doing small things for others, nor for his kindness. He never was known for letting others in or for vulnerability. And most of all, he was not known for his softness.
And yet, heâd be all of that and more, if it was for you.
#mk1 x reader#mortal kombat x reader#sub zero x reader#sub zero#bi han#bi han x reader#mk1#mk1 2023#mk#mortal kombat#mortal kombat fanworks#imagine#mortal kombat imagine#one shot#fluff
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ii Most Wanted Part 10: 'Til The Day I Die (1)

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"
Summary: How you and Sy overcome long distance. And what about your friends?
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, ANGST, FLUFF. Distance, horny, filthy Sy on video, electronic sex, masturbation, voice/dirty talk kink, glasses kink, size kink, Angst, Sex in committed relationship. Oral sex, female receiving, making love, raw p in v, fluffy Sy, future plans, your friends are menaces, and of course, so is Sy.
Read at your own risk. Not Betaâd. All errors my own.
A/N:Â This is the 10th installment of II Most Wanted. These characters won't quit, so this series will be extended, but not for much longer. Results from the wedding dress poll will be revealed in the next part. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.
I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! đ
I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
Previous part here
âââ
Donât open this in public.
You were intrigued when you got the notification, but you did as you were told, and put your phone back into your purse, catching up with your friends but with anticipation for when you got home.
It was just the second day back in your town, and you were out to dinner with co-workers who wanted to catch up on your new development. Youâd just started to fill them in on you and Syâs story when you got his message.
â--
The day beforeâŚ
All morning, Sy thought of you and the picture youâd sent. He had to concentrate to work, and therefore was a bit of an asshole to the guys all day. He couldnât wait to talk to you again. When you answered his call that evening, heâd been struck dumb.
âSy? Are you there? Can you see me⌠can you hear me? Shit, this must be a bad connection.â
Sy seemed frozen, his mouth gaping open.
âIâll have to call you bââ
âWait, Buttercup, donât hang up. Iâm here.â
You smiled at him and settled back on your pillows.
âGood, You looked like you were frozen.â
âI was, kinda. Iâm at a loss for words, Buttercup.â
You adjusted the glasses that Sy had never seen you in and patted your hair. You must have looked tired after a long day. You laughed nervously.
âYou want to reconsider? You finally see me in my natural state. In bed, my hair up, in comfy clothes and glasses. Tired as hell. This is me. Sure this is what you want?â
You chucked your chin up as if you were ready to take a blow.
Sy recognized your anxiety and shook his head.
âIâm so sorry, ButtercupâŚâ
Your heart dropped to your stomach. You bit your lip as you prepared for the worst. After all that happened this weekend, Sy was about to drop you like a hot potato.
âI need to ask you a question.â
âSure, Sy.âÂ
âWill you marry me? You are the most gorgeous thing on the planet. Good lordâŚâ
You stared at him in disbelief, then laughed, wishing he were there so that you could punch him.Â
âYou are a menace, Syverson, I swear.â
You sighed and brought the phone closer to your face.Â
âOf course I will marry you. I am marrying you. Canât take it back now. I will hunt you down.â
Sy grinned at you, reveling in the fact that you actually wanted him too.
You grinned back at him.Â
âAnd you donât have to butter me up. Iâll show you my boobs.â
âMmmmmm. Iâm not trying to butter you up, Buttercup. You are the cutest little thing in those glasses. Giving me all kinda thoughts. Canât wait to see you like that in person and hold you again. But in the meantime, Iâll take you up on that offerâŚ.â
The next morning, even after having fun sexy time on the phone, Sy woke up with a boner and the memory of an extremely hot dream involving you naked on the kitchen table in those glasses.
And to make it worse, you had sent him a picture of you in those same glasses and his Army T-shirt the next morning. Sy was very hot and bothered.
Just in a slightly better mood.
â--
It was after 11 pm once you settled into bed and got your phone out.Â
You opened your text thread to see a graphic up close video of Syâs cock, slick and leaking as he gripped it hard, fisting it brutally, his thumb swiping over the tip when he reached the top.
You clutched your pearls, but stared at the screen and opened the video, licking your lips and wishing that you were with him.
âGot me down bad, Buttercup. So fucking horny for you. And that picture. That. Fucking. Picture. Have so much cum for you I donât know what to do with it.â
Your hand was on your neck and you dragged it down under Syâs shirt to grip one of your nipples, squirming in your bed at the thought of the cock that was held before you. You couldnât believe that Sy had recorded this. But you werenât mad.
Not at all, although you felt faint and swore you had a fever. Your body was hot and your throat was parched and your eyes were glued to the screen
âOh my god, SyâŚâÂ
You spoke to the image as if it were him and immediately put your hand down your underwear.
âAre you wet for me? If I walked through your bedroom door right now, would I find you playing in your panties?â
You heard him panting and then pausing what he was doing to squeeze the base of his cock.Â
âFuck! I canât stop whatâs coming, Buttercup.â
Sy grabbed his balls up with his two smallest fingers as the rest of them squeezed his shaft tighter.
âWhy canât I stop? That picture. Thatâs why. Yâlook so fucking cute and godamn sexy in those glasses and my shirt.â
You gasped. You thought the picture was rather innocent. You were fully covered up. And you never imagined that your glasses would be a sex aid.Â
âWell ainât that a peach,â you said out loud and giggled at your use of a Sy-ism.
âThe shirt is so big on you that it slips off your neck and I can see your collarbone and the hickey I put there the other day. The size of the shirt reminds me how tiny you are and how, how f-fucking tight your little pussy is⌠ugh.â
He sounded so desperate, and him handling himself was so erotic. Your clit was hard now and you were as desperate as your fiancĂŠ was on the video.Â
âI was hard all fucking day, Buttercup. But I didnât touch myself until now. It was like I was punishing myself. But then I thought about punishing youâŚâ
You stilled, heart almost beating out of your chest. Did he just say�
âYeah I said it, Buttercup.â
Sy panned the camera to his face and it looked fearsome. It made your heart thrill and you gush wetness over your fingers as you started again to rub your clit in tight, tight circles.
âI thought about spanking that beautiful ass of yours until itâs hot to the touch, then fucking you. Hard.â
You swore you saw his blue eyes actually flash through the screen.
â âŚjust until you are ready to cum. Then stopping. Making you wait, like I have to, to feel you againâŚâ
You whimpered.
â...making you get on your knees and feeding you my cock until both of us are dripping wet and canât handle it anymore. FUCK! Canât stop thinkinâ of that mouth of yours, fucking your throat until tears run down your face and then letting go all over you, and getting those glasses filthy with my cum.â
âFuuuuckkk! Sy!â
Your fingers were touching yourself, but Syâs words were getting you there.
âChrist, Buttercup! You drive me crazy woman.â
You could tell that he was speaking through clenched teeth and was trying not to cum even though the camera was focused again on his cock. Pre cum almost continually squirted out of his tip, and his entire shaft looked glazed, like a donut. You licked your lips at the thought.
âIs your clit pounding all pretty like it does for me? Hm? After all that, I wanna eat you out, damn, I just want to taste you again, to wrap my lips around that pretty little clit and drink from that fountain, Buttercup.â
Your back arched as you remembered the burn of Syâs beard between your legs. Your vision whited out as you came. You wanted him there with you.
âBet you came right then. Nothing like the real thing, huh?âÂ
Sy chuckled as he read your mind.
âSend me another picture like that and donât be surprised if I turn up at your doorstep the next day. Donât say anything, just take this cock in whatever hole I choose to put it inâŚ.â
Sy continued to speak until you witnessed his precious white cum spurt forcefully out of his cock, the sight making you touch your sensitive pussy again, this time moaning his name for your empty house.
Your mind was scrambled by the time he had wound down said a sweet and tame, âGoodnight Buttercup. Sleep tight. I love you. Talk to you soon.â
Sy had ruined you. You had to return the favor.
You looked at the clock and noticed that it was almost 2 am in Texas, so you didnât call him like you wanted to.
Instead, you opened your own camera to record a special wake up call for Sy.
And that was how you kept your sexual connection sizzling across 1500 miles.
â-
Even though you had a fiancĂŠ, you couldnât neglect the rest of your life, or the friends who had been constant in your life for 20 years. You looked forward to your weekly zoom with Carla and Tiffany.
Normally.
At the moment, you were being lambasted by your besties three states over.
âSo⌠you come home for a reunion and we see you, what? A total of about 4 hours over the course of about 80?â
You tried to explain, but Carla interrupted.
âYou right, Tiff! So whatâs up Buttercup! You ditched your friends for some dâ GIRL WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ON YOUR FINGER!!??!??â
Your two best friends in the world start screaming.
âIs that the ring? THEEE Ring?â
Tiffany was up and gesticulating in her living room, her two teenagers looking at her like she was crazy since she had her earbuds in.
âYes-â
Your explanation is interrupted by Carla again.
âOh no you didnât. Because you didnât tell us about it. That better be a, âthe pussy was so good I gotta give you some jewelry ring, and not the ring you gushed over in high school when you started writing âMrs Jacob Syversonâ all over your little notebooks. Not that important ass ring that probably means a very important ass thing that we have no idea about. Right?â
Now she was quiet as Carla and Tiffany waited for you to reply. You smile sheepishly and shrug.
âWanna come to Vegas in a month?â
Tiffany threw up both her hands and screamed while Carla hung up.Â
But by the end of the night, they were both back on the call and on the same page as you. They listened as you explained how you came to realize that you didnât want to waste anymore time because of what other people did and thought.Â
You told them how much you loved Sy and how much you wanted this. They couldnât deny that you were right. They ended the call as your best allies who just needed to have a tiny talk with Sy.
â-
âI canât believe that they went over to your house and threatened you.â
Sy only looked a little scared. You had to laugh.
âIt was more terrifying than war, Buttercup. Those women are scary. We coulda used them in country.â
Then Sy was chuckling.Â
âThey calmed down when I explained how much I love you, and how I would make sure that nothing or no one ever hurts you again. Even me.â
Damn. You really loved this man. You smiled at him.
âWell, Iâm glad that you escaped unharmed. You might want to check Betty before you start it in the morning, though.â
âNo worries. I set up a time for them to help me⌠for them to help me get something for the wedding. Everything is cool.â
You raised an eyebrow at your phone. He grinned.
âYouâre so godamn cute, Buttercup.â
âWhat are you up to, Jake Syverson?â
âJust getting ready for the most important day in our lives.âÂ
Sy smirked at you as you gave him a side eye.
âThe question at hand, though,â He wiggled his eyebrows and held up his dominant hand then lowered it, and you could clearly tell what he was doing. âIs what are you wearing, Buttercup?â
You were successfully distracted.
â--
The first two weeks apart from Sy went by pretty quickly. You were very busy: You had to turn in paperwork, find a property management company, order moving supplies, search for a house cleaner and stager, and shop for wedding dresses with Carla and Tiffany virtually critiquing every choice.
You finally settled on the perfect choice for a Vegas wedding dress in July that was to your taste and that would drive Sy crazy. But you were exhausted. You didnât have time to second guess yourself.Â
You texted Sy all day long and facetimed every evening. It wasnât just phone sex; you talked about your plans for the future, your five year plans, and how you wanted your marriage to work.
âI want us to have a family meeting every quarter, even if it is just for the day, and check on the status of our marriage. Want us to adjust everything as needed, finances, individual and couple goals, and evaluate where we are with one another. And make changes if we need to.â
You didnât know why you were surprised, but you were. You just didnât expect Sy to come at you this way.
He laughed at the look on your face.Â
âI know that you think Iâm the emotional one, and that you are the analytical one. But I donât want us to take each other for granted. This is too important, Buttercup. This will be for the rest of our lives.â
You smiled and responded with your heart.
âForever and ever, amen.â
âForever and ever, amen.â
â
The last week before the 4th crawled by.
You were amped up, which gave you excess energy to get packed up. You tried not to bother him too much, because he was trying to tie a bow on some projects so that he could have time off for the wedding and honeymoon.Â
It just didnât seem real.
Finally, Sy was getting on the road to come to you. You were nervous for the two days that it took for Sy to drive out to your place, talking to him much of the way to keep him company as you finished packing up the few things you wanted to put in the back of the Bronco.
You couldnât sleep the night of the first day when you knew that he was sleeping just 10 hours away from you. The next morning, Sy confessed much the same.Â
Your car was picked up by the shipping company, and the storage container was delivered and set on the front lawn in the driveway the morning he was to arrive and you were at your living room window watching when you heard Betty Bronco turn the corner around 6 pm.Â
When you saw her down the road, you couldnât help but take off on foot down the road to meet him, causing Sy to honk and stop the truck in the middle of the road to get out and snatch you up.
âButtercup!â
He picked you up, twirled you around and lifted you over his head as you laughed and your soon-to-be ex neighbors looked at the scene curiously from their lawns, or their porches, or from between the slats on their blinds. Neither one of you cared about the scene youâd created.
You began kissing him before he let you down and slid down his body before he pushed you back away from him to look at you. Your curls were up in a puff and you had your glasses on and Sy laughed down at you, clad in one of his flannels and denim short shorts.
âDidnât know that you stole that shirt too, Buttercup. You are so fine. And all mine. Soon to be Mrs. Syverson.â
He kissed you again, and before things got too heated, you pulled away and pushed him back toward Betty.
âLetâs get out of the road and into the house, Sy.â
He winked at you.
âGood idea, Buttercup.â
You practically skipped to your door as Sy parked by the curb and got his bag out of the back of Betty. You held the door open but as soon as Sy stepped foot inside, he slammed it shut and you against it.
âHello, little lady.â
âHullo Sy. I missed you.â
âNo question I missed you too. But in less than 72 hours, we will be saying âI do.ââ
Sy looked at you hungrily.
âYes, Sir. You ready for that?
âFuckinâ A.â
And Sy kissed you. Tentatively at first, rubbing his lips against yours, his beard tickling your cheeks, You put your hand up to rub your fingertips in it while he traced your lips with his tongue. You moaned, and thats when his tongue darted in to meet yours, re-exploring your mouth and causing yours to venture out and re-explore his.
Sy grabbed your hips and lifted you up so that your heads were level with each other and causing your legs to wrap around his waist. His hands explored under his shirt as yours went around his neck. And when you finally stopped kissing, you leaned your forehead against his, a little overwhelmed by the emotion.
âSyâŚâ
You whimpered it, your need emerging, but Sy let you down, letting your body slither against his as you gained your feet again.
âI know, baby. But show me around a little bit before we⌠show me around. Need to see how you are and how you are doing.â
You nodded and looked down at his shoes, which were huge next to yours. Why did that get you wet?
âTake those off.â
You did it first, showing him where to put them, and as he did as he was told, you backed up and admired your man. When he looked back up at you, he winked.
âWell, this is it. Itâs not as big as yourââ
âOur.â
â...house, but itâs been good to me.â
You showed him around the small dwelling, and he admired the craftsman bones of the house.
âLooks like you got most of everything packed up.â
You smiled wide at him.
âHad a burst of energy lately.â
âHmmm. You were supposed to wait for me, Buttercup,â Sy said, turning his big body in the small, filled-with-boxes space.
âWhat are we gonna do for the next two days?â
You suddenly felt shy. He really made you feel like a kid again.
âWhy donât you take a shower? Iâll order some food. Maybe take a nap? You must be tired from the driveâŚâ
Sy looked at you with an intensity that shook you to your core.
âIâll take you up on that shower. Need to wash the road off. And go ahead and order the food if you want. Your favorite place. I am mighty hungry.â Syâs eyes swept up and down your form and you stuttered.
âOh-okay. L-let me show you the bathroom.â
Sy followed you and you felt his eyes on you as you got him set up.
âIâll give you some privacy.â
Sy chuckled.Â
âThanks, Buttercup. Wonât be long."
You were shook as you ordered Thai food and tried to make space at your small table among the boxes. You felt like it was 20 years ago, yet again.Â
In a few minutes, Sy came out of your master suite, clad in grey sleep pants. You tried not to stare, but hell, he was yours. You dragged your eyes up his thick, muscular form to his handsome face.
âFoodâs here.â
You gulped as he held his hand out.Â
âGreat. Itâll reheat, right? Cause right now what I need is to hold my future wife.â
You melted into him as he practically carried you back into your bedroom and laid you both down on the king sized bed that took up most of the room. You relaxed into his arms suddenly safe again. You thought about how he hadnât immediately wanted to fuck. Heâd asked about you and how you were doing. He was so pure.
âWhat are you thinking, Buttercup?
Sy whispered and brushed a knuckle over your cheek.Â
âJust thinking about what a good man you are,â you whispered.
âYou are so good to me. Even when I was giving you hell about what happened 20 years agoâŚâ
Sy chuckled.Â
âNever stop giving me hell, Buttercup. What I need is a woman who can keep me on my toes.â
You turned toward Sy and kissed him, causing a groan when you threw your thigh over his hips.Â
âThere are a few things that I need to give you,Right here in your bed.âÂ
âOur bed,â you replied as you arched your back and his lips ventured down the side of your neck.
His hands skimmed the side of your breasts, squeezing them gently through his shirt.
 âI like the sound of that, Buttercup.âÂ
Sy smiled into your neck, his voice was muffled since his lips were busy on your collarbone, making new marks, and his hands were busy unbuttoning and unwrapping you from his shirt. His eyes went wide as he leaned back and looked at your naked torso, then locked in on your eyes again.
âMissed you so damn much.â
âMe, too, Sy.â
Sy descended again to place his lips to your skin, covering your breasts with soft kisses, despite the pebbling, hardening flesh over your sensitive peaks. When he drew those into his mouth was when you arched into his hand, which had unbuttoned your shorts and delved inside to cup your moist mound.
âDamn, I canât wait for you to be mine, fully. To carry my nameâŚâ
âI am yours, Sy. Til the day I dieâŚâ
Sy muttered a soft curse, squeezing his eyes shut, and he chewed his bottom lip, concentrating, as his fingers strummed you to the edge. He gradually increased the pace, as you widened your legs and held onto his shoulder. You rotated your hips, wining on his hand until he swore again and rubbed his thumb over your clit. Your orgasm ripped through you, intense and earth-shattering, causing you to throw your head back and scream.Â
âHoly fuck, you are so beautiful when you come. Give it to me.â
He leaned down and suckled at your nipple while your pulses slowed, then he scooted lower, dragging your shorts off and parting your thighs and propping them on his shoulders. He stared at it for a minute, while you brushed his now longer curls out of his eyes. He smiled at you and then your pussy.
âSheâs so beautiful.â
You giggled, but it was cut short as his lips made contact. You felt the groan he emitted through your soul, and you had to bite your lip at the first brush of his tongue on the super sensitive skin that was still recovering from your orgasm. The first lick of your slick center had you clenching your hands into the sheets.
âOh God.â
He lapped at you, kissing and exploring with his tongue. He took his time, seeming to be in no hurry. When his tongue circled your throbbing bundle of nerves, you flew apart in his hands again, but he didnât let up. He kept lapping and slid a finger into you causing you to roll your hips and your legs to open wider.
Sy parted your folds to put another finger inside you, curled both of them, stroking over those bundles of nerves inside you as he pumped in and out as he suckled your clit. Your third orgasm rolled through you, on the heels of the one before it. Â
He drew himself back up your body, naked now, having shed his pants as you were coming down, pausing to nip at your hips and his favorite parts of you, then to suck at both breasts. When he made it to your lips, he whispered against them.
âThatâs going to be a daily thing.âÂ
âYou could do that to me any time you want, Sy. Please, fuck me now. Please? Pleaseeeee?âÂ
He shifted between your thighs and teased your slit with his leaking cock as his jaw clenched. You begging was his kryptonite.
âI had the idea to wait until we got married. But⌠I just⌠canâtâŚ.â
You moaned and he closed his eyes as he slowly entered you inch by inch, stretching you out again for him. His jaw remained clenched, and yours was gaped open in a gasp until he was fully seated inside you. Sy leaned down and kissed your forehead.
âSo tight. So good for me, ButtercupâŚSuchhhh a good girl for me, babyâŚâ
You keened at his praise as he started moving, making love to you sweetly, kissing you, holding you tenderly, and looking into your eyes. The connection was everything.
âYouâre mine. And I am yours.âÂ
âI know.âÂ
The tense knot in your belly began to unfurl, and you held onto him tight as the orgasm took over you.Â
âLove you so much, Buttercup.âÂ
With just a few more strokes, Sy found his release.
â-
You eventually got up from bed and ate. Then you talked for the rest of the night.Â
You and Sy caught up you loaded the shipping container, leaving the big furniture for the movers. You were in your little domestic bubble until you heard pounding on your door on the morning of the 4th of July, the day before you and Sy were going to drive to Vegas for the wedding.
Sy got up from bed and opened the door, as you peered around the corner from your bedroom.
He looked through the peephole and rolled his eyes before he opened the door. He let Carla and Tiffany push him aside as they entered your house.
âMove aside, Syverson. Weâre here to take our bestie for some girl time and a bachelorette party to remember before she signs her life away.â
You stared at Sy, then at them as they continued.Â
âPack your bags, Buttercup, weâre going to Vegas!â
ââ
Please if you liked it!
Next part here.
#ask dj#am writing#writeblr#henry cavill#henry cavill fanfiction#captain syverson#captain syverson fanfiction#captain syverson x reader#captain sy x reader#captain syverson smut#syverson fic#syverson x reader#captain syverson fluff#syverson fanfiction#syverson fluff#captain syverson angst#cpt syverson#Syverson#syverson angst#Sy x Buttercup#syverson x black!reader#captain syverson au#captain syverson x black!reader#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill smut#ii most wanted#ii most wanted fic#amwriting
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Hi, would you be able to do a mutual pining yelena x avenger!reader kinda thing where yelena has been ignoring reader because she doesnât know to how to deal with her feelings and when reader confronts her, yelena admits that she likes her? Mainly angst with fluff at the end if possible. Love your fics!!
ââ ŕź*¡Ëâ đś đżđ˛đŽđšđšđ đłđđ°đ¸đśđťđ´ đšđśđ¸đ˛ đđźđ
paring: yelena belova x fem!reader
tag(s): fluff, some angst, mutual pinning, nat being the big sis
warning(s): yel having a hard time admitting her feelings, grammatical errors, unedited
word count: 1.8k
note: Soooooo sorry it took me soooo long to post this. I FUCKING LOVED THIS REQUEST btw. Also guys, it's taking me so long to post fic because a) my laptop is just a bitch and won't work, and b) I guess I'm going through a writer's block and it's kinda hard to find the motivation to write. But I'll try my best. Lots of love, M <3
requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

Your legs were sore, you couldn't feel your arms anymore and you were gasping for air, but it wasnât over until one of you was down.
âCanât we take a break?â you whined out as you tried dodging Yelenaâs fist but still made contact with your body and you groaned out in pain.Â
âFocus, Y/n,â Steve called out, before Yelena would punch again.Â
You knew she was holding back, measuring her strength, she always would when training with you. And you didnât know if you found that reassuring or mocking. You kicked her in the stomach, but it still did not affect her, it was quite the opposite really.Â
âThatâs all you got?â
âWhy? Wanna try something else?â you teasingly said while winking at her.Â
You got her off guard, she wasnât expecting your cocky self to show up while training, and seized the moment to swift her off her feet and got on top of her.Â
âWas this what you had in mind?â
Your hands quickly found her wrists while your body pressed into her abdomen pushing her down so she wouldnât get out of your hold.Â
âOkay, I think itâs enough,â Steve called out, sensing you had gone off track.Â
Both you and Yelena knew that she could easily get out of your hold, but still it took her two minutes to do so. You didnât want to let her go that easily, you felt your whole body burning just by the thought of her skin against yours, still you stood up and got on moving before the two of you could have a say on what just had happened.Â
That was how it always went with Yelena, one moment you had the courage to openly flirt with her and a second later you would run back to your dorm second guessing the whole interaction. You wanted to do more, each and every time, but she was so nonchalant about you flirting with her that you convinced yourself that it was just that, a flirty friendship.Â
And most of the time you were okay with it, playing dumb about your own feelings. But then shit like that would happen, you would brush her skin, or would make her laugh, or just look at her, and the thought of a friendship would fly out of your mind. That was why you would lock up in your room, trying to calm and persuade yourself to not let your stupid feelings get in the way.Â
And the same stupid thing would happen to Yelena, which you didnât know about.Â
âYou want to talk about it?â Yelena heard her sister's voice as she watched you heading out the training room.Â
âI wasnât holding back, I swear.â
âNot about your punching,â she raised her brow at her little sister.Â
âThereâs nothing to talk about,â Yelena shrugged it off as she grabbed her bottle of water and took a big sip.Â
âLena, I know you,â Natasha took advantage of the fact that her sister was chugging down water. âI know we donât do feelings, we donât trust people. But that was the old us, that was the red room. We have to put that shitty part of our lives behind us for good.â
âAnd I have,â Yelena scoffed.Â
âThen why haven't you done something about it?â Yelena knew her sister meant you, she didnât have to clarify. âAt least, give it a go,â Natasha sighed. âIf not for you, then for her.â
âShe doesnâtâ.â
âYou never know, Lena. Neither will she, if you donât tell her,â and with that Natasha left her sister to her own thoughts.
âSuka,â she mumbled under her breath, because Natasha was right. She was always right about everything, it was the power that came with being a big sisterâher big sisterâ, and she hated it when she was right.Â
She knew she had to do something about it, about you. But the fear of rejection, of feeling unwanted felt too much to bear. She wasnât going to open up her heart just for someone else to crush it. But maybe, just maybe she could trust you not to crush it.Â
[...]
Still, it was easier said than done. It took her a full week to finally come to the conclusion that she was, actually, madly in love with you. A week full of stress and anxiety because deep down she felt like she didnât deserve to have these feelings towards you.Â
And now that she knew exactly how she felt about you, it fucking terrified her. So she did what she thought was best and put some space in between the two of you. The thought of you clouded her brain and it was starting to affect her line of work, and she couldnât have that. Being part of the avengers gave her life meaning, and she was not going to let her stupid feelings ruin that for her. Even though she wanted to be close to you, and just melt into your arms.
Of course, her coldness didnât go unnoticed by you. You were confused, though. It wasnât like Yelena to just shut you out. Even though you wanted more than just a friendship out of her, you wanted to consider yourself a friend of hers and it hurt that she was just avoiding you.Â
You didnât know what was going on, she just felt out of your reach. You asked her sister about it, she just told you to give her space and she would be okay, before muttering something under her breath and went on with her day. You asked Kate and she just completely avoided the topic and changed the subject.
The more she didnât talk to you, not even glance at your direction, the more you felt like you had done something wrong, maybe she had found out about your feelings and now she was avoiding you because of them. She probably felt uncomfortable about them, she probably wanted nothing to do with you. And who were you to decide otherwise?
You talked to Steve, making sure to not have more training lessons with her, only to find out she had already asked the same thing. You knew it was stupid to feel as if your heart was breaking since you wanted the same thing, but it did feel like shattering to pieces. You just nodded, a tight smile finding its way to your lips and went to your room before shedding any tears.Â
This whole thing was bullshit. Yes, maybe she didnât feel the same way you did about her. But the both of you were full grown-ups, you should be professional about it and act like nothing had happened. Because in reality it didnât, not that you were aware of it. So you decided that you were going to give her a piece of your mind.Â
You searched for her throughout the entire building and finally found her in the training room. Of course she was there, you should have thought of coming there earlier.Â
For a trained assassin she didnât notice your presence, too caught up in her own mind, focusing on her breathing and throwing punches at the boxing bag.Â
You cleared your throat. âGot a minute?â
She looked over her shoulder, finally acknowledging you there, and you swore you watched as her whole body just tensed up by the sound of your voice.Â
âIâm kinda busy right now,â she mumbled before throwing two more punches.Â
âIt wonât take long,â you insisted, wanting to get this over with.Â
âLook, I really need toâ.â
You cut her off. âI donât know who told you or how you found out, but yes, itâs true, okay?â you finally got her attention. âI just thought you would be professional enough to not let this get in the way and pretend like nothing happened. Which is what I also wish for.â
âWhat are you talking about?â
âYou avoiding me,â you quickly mumbled, a tint of concussion in your tone. âI get it, but letâs just put this behind us and act like propper adults.â
âNo, Iâm aware of that part,â she scoffed, embarrassed to admit to you what she had been up to. âWhat I mean is, what have I found out?â
Your brows furrowed. âAbout my⌠me⌠and you,â you gave yourself a second to think her words through. âHold on a second, you donât know?âÂ
âWhat donât I know?â
âYou donât,â you finally added two plus two and realised that Yelena had no recollection whatsoever about your feelings, but still something was off. âWhy have you been avoiding me then?â
You watched her as her mouth opened and closed, searching for the right words.Â
âWhat did I ever do to you for you to completely avoid me, huh?â
âYou did nothing, I justâŚâ
âYou just what?â you scoffed, now anger filling your tone. âYou just decided it was fun to ignore me?â
âNo! God, no.â
âThen what is it?!â the two of you were pretty much screaming at each other.Â
âBecause I like you, damn it!â she finally confessed. âIs it so hard to see?â
Your eyes winded. âYou like me? You have been avoiding me because you like me?â
âI know, not my brightest moment. But it's just that you⌠you justâŚâ she gestured to her brain. âYouâre just stuck here, and I canât get you out. At first I was scared to admit my own feelings to myself,â she took a deep breath. âBut then Tasha said something and it made me realise that thereâs nothing wrong with having feelings. But then I had to admit to myself that I really fucking like you. And I just⌠I just got scared because you might not feel the same way, and you might just push me away,â another deep breath. âAnd I decided that I would push you away first⌠and so I did.â
âSo you like me.â
âYes,â her brows furrowed. âWas that all you got?â
âI mean⌠itâs the part that matters most,â you grinned at her.Â
âWhat do you mean?â
âI really fucking like you too,â you said cupping her cheeks. âI thought you knew and that was why you were avoiding me. But now I get it, I make you nervous,â you said teasingly.Â
âI wouldnât use that wordâŚâ you rolled your eyes before shutting her off with your lips, finally giving in and kissing her.Â
âIâve been wanting to do that for a while now,â you whispered over her lips as you deepened the kiss.Â
Her lips were soft and rough, and they had some saltiness to them due to her being all sweaty. But you didnât mind at all, in fact you really like it.Â
âRemember last time we were here?â you whispered in her ear, trailing a path of kiss down her jaw and neck.Â
âYou mean⌠that time we last trained?â she sounded breathlessly and it sent a shiver down your whole body.Â
âIf I remember correctly, which I know I doâŚâ you gently bit her skin earning a hiss out of her lips. âYou were on the grown and I was on top of you, remember?â
âYesâŚâ she said as her fingers ran through your hair.Â
âWant to pick up where we left it off?â
Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3
-M
#yelena belova#yelena belova x reader#yelena belova x y/n#yelena belova x fem reader#yelena belova imagine#florence pugh#florence pugh x reader#littlexscarletxwitch's fic#requests by lovely anons âŕšâ
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Every time YouTube nonsense happens I'm always like "I can't wait to see what Sergle says about this" because you're the only person I follow that talks about YouTube nonsense.
Please take this is an invitation for you to talk about the Watcher's apology video lol
I am a filthy youtube enjoyer so you can absolutely count on me and GODDDDDDDDDDD... I mean the apology is not NEARLY as funny as the blunder, so it hasn't kept my attention as much but like the obligatory upfront thing is that, like, it is good that they posted it, they apologized for being insensitive and whatever, they're not scraping their channel clean or going forward with their old plan to only post their shows on their own platform, and these are technically good and correct things, because they could have pretended not to notice all the negative feedback. So like, responding is good. BUT LIKE I HAVE QUESTIONS NOW... Because they took SO LONG to film and upload a video that basically is just "we fucked up, we're sorry, we're not gonna do that anymore", which doesn't exactly take a writer's room several days to cook, but I DIGRESS... They were quiet for long enough for everyone to LOOK REALLY CLOSE. After the initial reaction, people had time to do some pretty comprehensive cost breakdowns for their stuff, and for what they have to be pulling in from adsense, sponsored segments, patreon, merch, and touring Like, they'd need to be really mismanaging their finances, because they're doing very well for themselves, making good, stable money, and the vids they make are super duper advertiser friendly. SO... you take long enough without putting out a holder statement or a quick heel-turn apology or anything, it gives people more time to get comfortable with not liking you, and also to dig around and google things about you, or scrape up info/trivia about you to corroborate their new opinion of you. It gets personal, is what I mean. So pulling this move has still, at BEST, caused some permanent damage to their relationships with fans, in both directions. They all got a huge flood of negative feedback, and even a perfect, emotionally mature, non-entitled person would have a negative reaction to people being upset with them at such a high volume. But now they're gonna remember the things that people have said about them, and there's no way that at the very least, Steven isn't gonna feel spiteful about this. People TOTALLY unloaded on him (funny) (valid) about his evangelical christian conservative leaning tesla privileged out of touch boy gold flaked ice cream eating ways. He definitely is going to remember that ppl said they never liked him in the first place. As for Ryan and Shane, people didn't have any dirt on them, but they definitely still received a lot of angry messages from people, most of which will have been reasonable, but they're gonna remember the really really mean and intense ones. Anyway, they made a booboo dumb enough for jack to want to make a skit about it, so for that I'm very grateful, because I thought it was really really fucking funny
youtube
#it's no big deal and it's whatevs because it's Low Risk youtube scandal which is why I like it so much#but it still never fails to amaze me how much this didn't need to happen#like this would have been a totally preventable blunder. I can think of a million different ways to increase profit before trying this move#personally I think it's funny to mess up this badly because the Second Messup would be to respond REALLY quickly#You see it trending and you immediately need to act bc it will only get worse the longer you stay quiet#sergle answers#long post
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Thinking about how Steph looks sm like Arthur again, down to their stupid little ponytails. She definitely cut her hair in Robin #100 bc it reminded her too much of him, right? Like we never get a reason for the style change in canon I don't think, to the point I actually misremembered it as having happened after his death (due to above reasoning) but no it was a good 10 or so issues prior. Obvs she could've just cut it for non angst reasons but that's no fun is it? (There is also an argument to be made that with the comment she makes to Cole the elevator boy about how long haired blondes are seen as ditzy and short haired blondes are brainy- which is a debatable take on the blonde stereotype but hey man writing this- it could also be for reasons of Gender and Perception but again, not gone into by writers).
Love that take. Nothing like stephanie browns overwhelming fear she will end like her father.
That whole era is so insanely messy timeline wise, Between GK37, Batman Family, whatever was going on with the Birds??? I donât even know. Iâve definitely thought it was an Arthurâs death thing too at some point, it just really seems like it should be.
I miss her stupid bob sm đđ. I actually just today got a physical copy of Robin 111 finally and itâs such a srsly darling look. So off topic but the bruise is so important to me. How often do we see characters with sustained injuries, especially things which should be as common as bruises or scrapes? But Stephâs vulnerability is plastered on her throughout the issue. She canât hide her bruise, itâs right there on her face, and we see it be seen by characters, by the librarians who offer her coffee and by the waitress who points it out. Likewise Stephâs trauma is âexposedâ in the same way. She canât hide her immediate reaction to the news abt the tv show cutting the sexual assault plot, and when she tells Tim about Jim Murray and shares that deep âburied secretâ, that formative trauma, itâs not just Tim who finds out, the man at the music store overhears as well. Stephâs wounds both internal and external are laid bare in this issue, and importantly not private or truly hideable. Okay tangent over sorry i just love Robin 111 so much.
Funnily enough, it seems like Arthur has a bob himself in the âflashbackâ(?) as Steph relays to Tim how she learned of his death. So I checked back and yeah, in their last face to face encounter Arthurâs rocking a bob. So if anything, Steph stole his look??? Weirdly enough???
Now Iâm imagining Steph chopping off her hair in rage and tears after a really bad night and then looking into the mirror and going: fuck because she forgot Arthur had gotten the bob as well. Comedic but also really sad. The ensuing emotional whiplash and hypothetical breakdown might explain why Steph never goes back to the short hair look.
Also yea that thing with Cole was a little stupid and dumb. Hate to say it but I donât actually think thatâs a real stereotype?? Love to think of Steph and gender and perception anyhow youâre so very right for pointing it out.
Steph discord server (which you should totally join btw!!!) was talking about a concept with Steph and perception and gender a while back: what if the vaguely gender neutral implications of her og suit stuck and Steph purposefully misled other vigilantes/villians into believing she was a guy? Was yapping abt Steph aligning herself with masculinity as a way to distance herself from her expierences which tie femininity to victimization.

Doesnât really apply so much to the bob cut but I got reminded of this bc of the hair and gender stuff and figured Iâd toss it in. Something to chew on ig!! Thank you 4 the ask!
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mae girl! iâve been living for your carmy stuff. k know youâre just getting back but iâve been thinking about this idea for a while and i believe the last writer i shared with had gotten deactivated. this might be two ideas instead of one so feel free to do whatever you desire. idk why but would you be down to write some fluff and angst with maybe like married!carmy? maybe something where nat and pete legit ambush carmy and his wife to start talking again? but it like a lighthearted fluffy kinda way at the same time ? utilizing the scene carmy yells at syd as a base- i hate to use that scene as an example but itâs one that comes to mind when writing this atm. anyway, like the reader doesnât work at the bear butâll come in on her days off and mornings before her shift to help them open. and carm is already on edge about something going on in the resto and he yells at his wife out of overwhelming frustration. evidently, heâs mad at himself for it after he does it he apologized but sheâs all like âno.â and sheâs literally giving him the silent treatment. ofc her and nat are besties and loves her sil, so i totally see nat roping pete into getting carmy to come over whilst the reader is already on her way since they havenât spoken in a while. both nat and pete are literally doing whatever they can to keep these two in separate spaces of the house because neither carm or his wife have any clue theyâre there. maybe like y/n is inside with nat and pete meets carmy outside on arrival? the reader is walking towards to the door to out and natâs still stalling like âso are things with you and my brother?â and the reader scoffs and natâs just like âstill not talking to him huh?â and while the reader grabs the handle slowly opening the door open sheâs all like âlook, sugar- you know i love your brother, but carmy sometimes can be a piece of shitâ and then all you hear is carmy being like âoh, iâm a piece of shit- even after i apologized to you?â and i can just see carmy and the reader being like wth is going on here. idk but nat and pete will sillily have to do the most to get these two the civilly sit down inside of their house to even have anything of a talk. and then nat team tagging with pete to get to the bottom of things and then she lets it slip that y/n had mentioned that they were trying to get pregnant and camryâs just like âwait. what? and carmy already up and ready to talk to her alone. this man would be so loving the first time all like ây/nn can i talk to you in the kitchen for a second?â and then sheâs tryna explain and carm out here using her FULL name âin the kitchen now.â just hearing how heâd say it makes me squirm and squeak đđŠ. and sheâs just speeding over because she knows he means it when he pulls out the first name. and think with that heâs all just hurt that she told his sister and he hadnât really said anything- since it was their thing they they were still figuring out. seriously feel free to do whatever you desire. just sharing the same idea iâll dream about in a few moments. tysm in advance đ.
- đĽŁ.
i'm so sorry this took me so long to write, my love! this has nothing to do with you i just got a bit concerned and got lost so many times lmfao, im just dumb like that
ĘÉ
naturally, carmen wants to try to keep his anger away from you. youâre his love, his angel, his everything. the idea that he blew up at you makes him wanna cry but you wonât talk to him, you refuse to in fact until you process what he said.
âwhy the fuck are you here?! i donât need you messing shit up and crowding me!â he yelled at you. the memory fresh in your mind. it should be since itâs the only thing youâve thought about for the past few days.
nat and pete, in their own ways, notice this and take charge. pete thinks you two can handle it but nat chimes in with the, âi know my brother. he canât handle shit. If this is left up to him to resolve, nothing will happen. i love him but still.â
so they form their plan. pete invites carmy over to set up furniture, catch up, whatever and nat invites you over to talk about the baby and ask for your help with meal prepping. âso, have you and my brother talked about what happened at the restaraunt?â she asks.
you walk over to the couch, putting on your jacket and scarf. you let out a scoff as your answer. âtaking that as a no.â nat answers. you put your hand on the doorknob, your back to the front lawn where carmen and pete, unknowing to you, stand.
"look, you know I love Carmen. and you know i want-" you sigh. "i want a family with him, Nat. i want a child, or children, with the guy. but your brother can be a real piece of shit sometimes." You open the door fully at that point, where carmen's now staring at you.
"i'm a piece of shit, after i apologized to you?" carmen asks. you stare at him before looking at pete, then at natalie whose got a guilty smile on her face. "okay. what the hell is this?" You question.
"oh! carmy, hi! i had no idea you were gonna be here. come on in, we'll all have some coffee and we can talk about what's happening." natalie says as she pulls you inside, motioning for carmen to come inside.
he reluctantly agrees, stepping inside as he sits at the dining room table. you stand in the kitchen, far enough away from them.
i think once nat reveals that you told her you want kids his reaction changes. maybe you two talked about it or maybe he doesnt know but either way, he wants to talk to you. that changes things in his mind. because you still want kids with him.
while you and carm work out your own issues, of course nat and pete take credit for it, even though you and carmy are both mad at her. also the idea of carmen using your full name as a way to call you stop oh my gosh
#maeberzatto#mae writes!#mae writes: the bear#mae has mail! đ#mae's anons!#bowl anon#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#the bear fx#the bear hulu#carmen berzatto fanfiction#mae answers your asks!#mae answers: carmen and reader making up</3
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TMAGP 21 thoughts, spoilers below the cut
âWhat if Alice is right about how fucked up the OIAR is?â I mean fuck, dude, she probably is
âItâs fine I can just quit if something tries to murder meâ Sam that wonât help with the whole âmonster trying to kill you thingâ thatâll just make you unemployed in addition to being about to die
When Celia said she had a âcomplicated immigration statusâ I fucking cackled like girlie you are never beating the universe hopper allegations
Also yeah why did the OIAR not notice that she probably has next to no legal documentation of her existence? Like I get them being more lax than other government organizations but this is a whole other level
tbh itâs probably because Lena was like âeh fuck it this isnât even in the top 70 weirdest things Iâve seenâ and let it slide
âI wouldnât be able to take Jack with me if I went backâ Does this mean she knows how to go back?????
MAGNUS INSTITUTE CHESTER STATEMENT
ooh this is some alchemy shit
POLITICAL RESOURCES? did the institute have fucking plants in the government or did they just have, like, lobbyists?
love how this guy is like âwe need stop being Christian centric when choosing the date to our fucked up eldritch ritual guysâ
Iâm sorry, a UNIVERSAL TRANSMUTATION? as in transforming the entire earth or even the whole universe???? Dude what???
The fucked up ritual in question is called the Dome Project, which judging only by the name sounds like theyâre trying to make Flat Earth real, which is fucking hilarious
ok they were allegedly trying to create a utopia but every âutopiaâ is flawed so the question is how did they fuck this one up?
Oh damn they were trying to create a perfectâfinal state of societyâ that never changes. Even without the eldritch bullshit thatâs a terrible idea just look at like every dystopian novel ever (and also the game slay the princess, which is built around the idea that change is a necessary component of life and has Jonny Sims voicing a lot of the dialogue)
I love how this guyâs best argument against bringing the world to a stagnant state is just âbut weâre alchemists, guys, change is our whole thing :/â
Was I the only one who thought âet alâ was pronounced like âet allâ or is it just me? Or is it a regional thing?
Wait was their plan to actually just build a big ass dome to house a âperfect societyâ?
Oh shit they had actually already started construction.
Of course they were exploiting workers to build this âperfect domeâ
THE DOME IS REAL????? (Itâs called the millennium dome, donât just google âdome projectâ youâll just find a bunch of unrelated shit about business models and stuff)
WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DONâT KNOW HOW LONG THE DOME WILL BE THERE? Isnât that a major safety issue?
bro thinks the place is supernaturally contaminated and heâs probably right
Oh boy itâs also contaminated with heavy metals the real danger here is lead poisoning
Iâm sorry what the fuck??? Construction guy got cloned by some dirt in the site and then his clone just fucking yanked him into the dirt? Clone didnât even bother to replace him
lol statement writer just went âtldr we shouldnât do our ritual here itâs fucked up enough as it is and incorporating a stagnant utopia into our eldritch ritual is dumb and we shouldnât do itâ
Alice has realized that Freddy is purposefully giving Sam Magnus statements
GIRLIE DID YOU JUST DELETE IT FROM HIS CASELOAD???
oooh shit she got caught by Lena
âhaha Samâs computer keeps malfunctioning so I tried to fix it and he definitely gave me permission hahaha ANYWAYS when are we getting a new IT guy?â smooth, Alice. Smooth.
Oh shit whereâs Gwen? Sheâs late coming back? Lena doesnât know where she is????
Ink5oul probably got her
Was that a .jmj error noise I just heard?
Oh fuck we actually get answers to the Gwen question and she is in fact running from ink5oul
Jesus this chase scene is actually scary, Iâm impressed. Itâs kind of hard to unsettle me this much without involving one of my actual phobias. Nice.
Also I had to google what trash polka is, turns out itâs a really cool tattoo style thatâs simultaneously photorealistic and trippy, usually done in black, white, and red.
Oh shit Ink5oul can mess with tattoos they didnât do
oh fuck they caught Gwen
Hey why is Gwen monologuing like those corpses?
[ERROR]? Where have you been, loca?
WHY IS THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES THEME PLAYING UNDER GWENâS STATEMENT MONOLOGUE?
The transcript describes [ERROR] as âa nightmarish specter of an older worldâ and Iâm not sure what to make of that yet but they sure are possessive of their victims, apparently. Judging by the fact that they said âthere is moreâ I think theyâre targeting either anyone with institute ties or anyone in the OIAR. Maybe both.
Love that Gwen just fucked booked it instead of sticking around to witness whatever that whole [ERROR]/ ink5oul interaction was
Iâm glad that [ERROR] didnât kill ink5oul tbh I like them
THE TAPE RECORDER FUCKING BIT THEM IM CACKLING
The Magnus Protocol sure is a podcast
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S3 First Reactions đŞđđŚđŞś
â¤ď¸ Already fangirled about the whole engagement night - the hugs, Hyacinth!!!
Colin not being able to stay away for that long after their engagement announcement and immediately excusing himself at Anthony's suggestion is exactly what I'd expect of him. Ă
â¤ď¸ Colin calling out Portia. "out of love." đ˘
â¤ď¸ "OUR BRIDGERTON NAME" is so important, because it's reiterating that Penelope's getting to choose her family when the one she was born into is so awful
He was so nervous when she didn't respond to their new home.
"Because I love you...Pen." đ˘
"Are you sure?" PEN, no đđđ
â¤ď¸ That mirror moment (i love how he said "the way your eyes shine when you look at me..." callback to her complimenting his eyes) "...And other things..."
bxtch they stuck with the thread of Colin not opening his eyes to stay in the dream and Pen checking to see if it's real when they kiss
The eye acting of Nicola and Luke! (they are being doe eyes x the intensity of his gaze or w/e it is)
The gulp <3 Nicola
"You are so beautiful."
â¤ď¸ The first time!!!
"I hope my husband.." - Fran, AND John -"I would not dream of it" đŻ asdfjgkglyl
Kate & El (got their s2 vibes)
Ahh, the "Do I look a mess?" "You are my mess" was delivered so perfectly.
cute, cute, cute riding through town in carriage (no personal space)
The hand kiss in front of portia!
Colin handing Eloise the spoon đ¤Ł
â¤ď¸ the charades game - the cutest thing (they're holding hands)
Also, fuckin Anthony being tooo competitive đ
Peneloise rights! The back 'n forth in the game đŹ
The panic attack was high-octane; the concern in the scene was cute xxx
â¤ď¸ Fran looking at John & Violet hating this story lol.....and then, me noticing her realization to another child in love
â¤ď¸ The look & collar tug in the church (polin is so dorky & domestic already)
â¤ď¸ Soooooo....the spontaneous dance in the church is better than I thought it was gonna be...their goofy footwork, spinning in a multitude of circles "dancing with MY FUTURE WIFE in THE CHURCH WHERE WE WILL BE MARRIED" bye
Part 1, the ton jokes and bullies them and Part 2, we just see people that can't help but get happy and giddy when they see their young love. Violet and Lady Danbury awwing at polin and embracing them in the park!!!
â¤ď¸ "I am going to look at the very fine wainscoting" -John, please! đ
"Not every attachment must be dramatic and hard-fought." - Francesca đ˘ bby, you're right
I legit went from this man has the crazy eyes ppl talk about to *tired eyes Wide-Open*... Bi Benedict?! ..I'm getting Bi Benedict?! (I was like: Why?Is?He?Staring?at?him?Like?That? (i knew i sensed the vibes! The Best Surprise!!!)
"This dance does not compare to a private waltz in the church where we'll be married." She's SO cute! "Well perhaps we shall have to add some flourish." Stop. km now (that's so him! he is so dumb; they're married already and dumb as they should be! Ă)
Props again with the deaf representation & the sass when Miss Cressida enters the ball
"A scandal writer for a daughter. Can you imagine?" - Portia (i'm sorry i love this whole sequence)
Polin gets more perfectly dork w/stepping on feet being included during their dance at The Mondrich Ball (that's very them)
Thank god for Bridgerton giving us hour long episodes in this 2nd part.
â¤ď¸ Eloise admitting she's wrong (and so casually) đ˘ ps i think they both have faults but i just love this
â¤ď¸ "The column began because I felt powerless in my own home." - Pen (well, i'm glad she said it!)
ok, now Pen admits her faults. all is right again
â¤ď¸ Irish accent again
"You are Lady Whistledown." This reveal was everything
omg, was this the scene where he wasn't supposed to cry, but did?! What would I have done without this reaction in such an important moment?! đ˘
I love how Penelope highlighted the voiceless as she said she should with Eloise in her new edition of Whistledown
Violet to Agatha - "..but I hope you know that my care for you is not contingent on your aid." đ˘ (she sees her)
This whole fight outside the modiste's. đ
"I have been careful. You have been foolish.."
â¤ď¸ "I LOVE YOU" and he was shocked (an 'ily for you' moment) [i was not expecting the follow up to his line to go like that]
â¤ď¸ They deserve a hot passionate makeout before they are married where they get completely caught up after fighting.
"What am I chopped liver?" yes Anthony in this situation you are.
â¤ď¸ Violet calling in Kanthony for Colin marital advice
â¤ď¸ Yellow
The look at each other down the aisle.
â¤ď¸ Vows. Weddings on this show are usually so unhappy, but I appreciate that Colin is still so reassuring & clearly beaming about this when there is residual upset/confusion.
â¤ď¸ Eloise cryyinng
Ben's line to El- "..The friendship you have with Penelope... As the one you have with Colin." xxx (she doesn't wanna lose them)
"OUR child will always be a Bridgerton, but I should like them to know that they are a Sharma as well." fxck đĽ˛
"I should like to dance with my husband.."
The disappearing people in the wedding dance. like they're the only 2 ppl in the room! (Bridgerton either has it out for me [to cry] or loves me so much)
ANTHONY đđ Marcus & Violet
Colin's hand caressing on Pen's face at the end of the dance they're really coming for me (bro did he almost kiss her?!??? i freaked out; had to rewind)
The queen excusing all non-Bridgertons + "Penelope, you are a Bridgerton now."
I kind of love that "Everyone except the Bridgertons are to scatter," but Lady Danbury's just there
GOD (I knew it as soon as it was coming) Eloise hugs Pen <3 đĽ˛
ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod bi Ben
â¤ď¸ The hair grab!
This printer's assistant is on my shit list
SCOTLAND!!! JOHNCESCA
"It is not up to you what we do." đ¤â¤ď¸đ¤Ł Colin mad but still ready to defend his wife (as it should be)
"I know my father was a good man and you are a good friend." Violet-Agatha feels
đHe kept the letters!
đJohn's words to Mama Bridgerton (her children's traits)
She said she was a fumbling mess in front of Edmund like 5 minutes before she is fumbling in front of Marcus
"Then how am I meant to help you?" â¤ď¸ "By loving me."
â¤ď¸ Pen's love confession
"....to be a young lady to whom no one listens." - Pen!~Eloise shared look
Philippa + her "bugs"
đ˛ Lady Danbury x Pen (she knew! â¤ď¸)
â¤ď¸ Colin's love confession (them crying together x)
El traveling with Johncesca
Mi-MICHAELA Stirling ... Bridgerton I swear if you are queerbaiting
OH MY GOD! Mama Bridgerton's words -FRANCESCA is fumbling her words.
â¤ď¸ Colin focussing on the hands in bed
Pen on top!
"Your father is always trying to distract with a clever word &..." "You think my smile is beguiling?" x "I could not have written without the help of Auntie Penelope." They are so obsessed with each other
Philomena?! did i hear that rt? omg Philippa
Yay we got confirmation of Colin's book! (I can only hope they're sitting in bed reading next season).
#oops should probably post this#live reaction#bridgerton#bridgerton spoilers#polin#anthony bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#colin bridgerton#eloise bridgerton#francesca bridgerton#hyacinth bridgerton#violet bridgerton#john stirling#kate bridgerton#penelope featherington#penelope bridgerton#portia featherington#philippa featherington#lady danbury#lady whistledown#marcus anderson#francesca x john#peneloise#michaela stirling#*mine
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