#Twitter Followers Cheap

[dickthyology]

Suck it clout chasers welcome to the pit of anonymity.

Wait I realized this Twitter rate limiting thing happened literally the same day as the Reddit 3rd party app shut downs. Wonder how many of those users have come here today to this Luigi Wins By Doing Nothing Ass website

[fromdove]

HOW I THINK SOCIAL MEDIA IS LIKE IN ㅤㅤㅤㅤ GOTHAM CITY

tiktoks where people are like “day 54 of trying to get batman to notice me by looking helpless and holding a brick outside of wayne tower.” and then like. a day later they upload another one like “guys it worked. i threw the brick at a window and he SWOOPED DOWN AND YELLED AT ME. i think we’re engaged now.”

BATMAN FAN ACCOUNTS. “batm4nslut6969: yall i saw him last night and his thighs were THIGHING. i can’t.” “i want him to run me over with the batmobile. respectfully.” “what does it say about ME that i’m in love with a man who beats people up in alleys.” “he punched my cousin and now my cousin’s life is on track. king.”

you’ll see a tiktok like “get ready with me to testify against the penguin 😘” and they’re curling their lashes like “trial’s at 10 i’m wearing valentino. hope the DA is hot.”

facebook moms in gotham be like “hi!! anyone else’s toddler develop shadow powers after playing near the narrows??? normal or???”

“guys u wont believe what just happened i was literally just tryna get a tuna sandwich and then scarecrow gassed the 6 train again 💀” followed by: “ok but like did anyone else get lowkey productive on fear toxin bc same”

and like imagine those "what's in my bag" videos but it’s like “what’s in my gotham emergency kit” and they pull out like mace, an inhaler, one (1) batarang they found in an alley, a granola bar, and a tiny bottle of holy water just in case it’s some demon this time.

every batman chase has like. three angles. one guy from his apartment, one guy hiding in a dumpster, and one guy who just happened to be doing a GRWM video when batman crashed through the laundromat window behind him like a medieval poltergeist in kevlar.

there’s also that one tiktoker who’s like. always posting “day in the life as a gothamite 🥰” and it’s literally her dodging debris from a police chase while trying to get a matcha. like she’s got wireless earbuds in while the riddler is detonating something in the background. caption: “when i said i wanted chaos i meant eyeliner not explosives 😭😭😭😭”

people be going live from literal crime scenes. like “hey besties so i’m outside ACE chemicals rn and idk what’s going on but i just saw a clown sprint past. anyone know what’s happening???” and everyone’s commenting like “GIRL GO HOME” and “go inside nowwwwww” and “live laugh leave gotham.”

you'd see youtube videos like “i lived in gotham for 2 days and here’s why i left” and it’s just footage of a man watching fire rain from the sky while eating a pretzel in pure silence.

twitter’s a HELLHOLE. people tweeting like “batman knocked over my hotdog stand again. this is the third time. i’m filing a restraining order” and “why does bruce wayne look like he hasn’t slept since 2003” and “if the joker had a podcast i’d listen. just being honest.”

ALSO fancams of villains??? OF COURSE. edits of scarecrow like “your mental health isn’t scary but he is ��🔥” and joker fan edits with lana del rey playing over it like “he slayed literally. like a bunch of ppl.”

there’s discourse about EVERYTHING. “does batman exploit underage sidekicks??” vs “no they CHOSE to be there 🙄”

imagine gotham love confession tiktoks like “i met him in an alley while harley quinn was robbing a jewelry store” and the comments are like “literally gotham's version of a meet cute 💘💘💘💘💘💘💘”

theres podcasts like “the ethics of vigilante justice” and then they go off topic and start debating if bruce wayne and batman have ever been in the same room and one of the hosts is like “they have different jawlines 🙄”

the gentrification discourse?? YEAH. “just moved to crime alley!! rent was SO cheap!! the vibes are kind of ✨✨ except for the screaming at night. also someone left a human tooth in my mailbox. i think that means i’m accepted into the neighborhood??”

and of course. OF COURSE. the joker thirst edits. like i wish i was kidding. i wish. but someone posts “what if he kidnapped me actually. like what if i let him.” and it’s a picture of him looking crazy with 15 different filters and a caption that says “he’s literally me (i need therapy).”

and GOTHAM INFLUENCERS. OH MY GOD. the way they would be the WORST. “hey guys today i’m doing a billionaire morning routine <3” cue 6 am ice bath in the wayne building gym someone does a house tour and people in the comments are like “i think that’s *insert famous rich socialites name's* old penthouse????”

homeless ppl getting filmed for fake charity clout. omg. “today we’re giving a makeover to this unhoused gotham citizen 🥺”

gotham meme culture is top tier. like they’re actually so funny. because they have to be. it’s trauma response meets terminal irony meets "oh the joker blew up a costco again time to live tweet." they have memes like: “you vs the guy she told you not to worry about” - it’s a pic of bruce wayne (or some rich socialite) in a suit and then batman looking like roadkill in a cape or something like “just got mugged by harley quinn and she said i have bad taste in shoes. kinda valid tbh.” or “why is scarecrow hot now. like when did that happen.” “penguin looked at me sideways in the club. should i press charges or kiss him idk.”

some of them are rich rich. and also literally host giveaways with captions like: “win a week in my tower penthouse if you repost and comment ur favourite crime i’ve survived 💋”

the drama is UNREAL. like gotham reddit?? a cesspool. like there’s this one post every week like : “AMA: i dated bruce wayne for 3 weeks in 2018 and he ghosted me after i found a batarang under his couch.” and then batman side of reddit is like “this guy tried to sell me fake kryptonite at a gas station AMA” and the replies are like “was it the guy in the trenchcoat outside the CVS?? i knew he was shady.” oh and you know there’s a gotham reddit thread called r/gothamCitizenSupport and it’s just “does anyone know how to get joker gas out of your vents” “batman smashed my windshield again how do i file an insurance claim” “my roommate joined a cult and now she glows in the dark?? normal or should i move out?”

you know the “hot takes” girlies?? yeah they’re deranged. “ok but like… what does batman really do for the economy.” or “i’m just saying gotham has more billionaires than public libraries and i feel like that’s not a coincidence???” or “why is no one talking about the gentrification of *xyz place name* just because ivy turned a building into a forest resort spa”

the comments are always fighting for their lives like: “he saved my life leave him alone??” or “girl i got evicted because catwoman turned my apartment into a goth club shut up”

ALSOOOO there are entire sides of gotham tiktok like:

“batman sighting alerts”

“gotham thrift hauls (featuring actual riddler merch)”

“bruce wayne conspiracy theory corner”

“citizen thirst traps featuring blurry robins”

“updates from people who work at arkham: the podcast”

and every time a villain escapes it’s like “uhhh guys. just saw mr. freeze at the bodega. he said he wants vengeance.

"guys...my parents just told me we're moving to gotham because its cheaper...help me what should i expect?"

OH AND BATMAN WOULD HATE IT. and there are so many compilations like “BATMAN GETTING FED UP WITH CITIZENS PART 7” where it’s just clips of him looking pissed af. dramatically because someone asked for a selfie mid-chase or tried to ask him to do fit check in their video.

[dazevi]

outta my mind | vi x fem!reader, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI) wc: 20k

synopsis: you didn’t plan on falling for anyone, let alone the painfully attractive bartender at the underground bar your friends dragged you to. she’s trouble, but she’s the kind you don’t mind getting into. | masterlist

content warnings: bartender!vi x fem!reader — modern au, bartender!vi, college student!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn ish, drinking/alcohol, flirting, mutual pining, pet names; baby, princess, sweetheart, smut!!!; top!vi, bottom!reader, semi-public sex, making out, marking/hickeys, fingering (r receiving), pls let me know if i’m missing anything else!

note: lovely request by @balinor93 ! fanart by wickestd on twitter! ( title inspo from song called outta my mind by monsune )

YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.

It was an underground pub, called the Last Drop, tucked between an alley of a street near your campus. The air inside is heavy, thick with a haze of cigarette smoke and the low hum of chatter and laughter. The brick walls are decorated with bright paintings and band posters, chipped and scratched in places, and adorned with flickering neon signs advertising cheap liquor and beers on tap. It’s dimly lit, with most of the light spilling from the bar itself—a warm glow reflecting off rows of liquor bottles stacked neatly against the back wall. The scent of stale beer and faint traces of spilled whiskey linger in the air, mingling with the beat of a bass-heavy track pulsing through the speakers.

You didn’t really plan to be here tonight.

In fact, you pictured something far less chaotic—maybe sitting cross-legged on your tiny dorm bed, your laptop open to half-hearted notes, headphones in to drown out the incessant noise of your hallmates partying down the corridor.

Finals week was looming, but somehow you found yourself here instead, caught up by a friend you weren’t too close with, Maddie, who told you to wear something cute and live a little.

You glance down at yourself, suddenly self-conscious in the outfit you hastily threw together—something a little nicer than your usual, a pretty black dress you found in your closet a jacket to battle the cold, though, it was not nearly as flashy as what your classmates seem to have pulled off effortlessly.

The slight chill in the room makes you tug at the sleeves of your jacket as you follow your group further inside, weaving through the crowd that seems to grow louder and rowdier by the minute.

Your friend is already laughing, tossing her short hair over her shoulder as she chats with someone from another group, leaving you trailing behind. They surge toward the bar, a noisy clump of university students jostling for attention from the bartender. You linger at the edge of the crowd, unsure of whether to join in or keep your distance.

Your eyes wander across the room, taking in the mismatched furniture and the way the low-hanging lights cast strange shadows over the scuffed wooden floor. It feels gritty, raw—nothing like the polished campus lounges or cafes you’re used to. People are packed into every available space, some leaning close to shout over the music, others pressed together in corners.

When you finally look toward the bar, something—or other, someone—catches your attention.

She’s pretty tall, her toned, tattooed arms flexing subtly as she works, pouring drinks expertly without even looking at her hands sometimes. Short, pink hair glows faintly under the neon lights, messy and partly shaved on the side of her head, but it was like she rolled out of bed and still managed to look better than anyone else in the room. She’s wearing a fitted black tee, tattoos peeking out along her biceps as she slides a drink across the counter to a waiting customer.

She glances up for the briefest moment, her sharp blue eyes scanning the crowd—and they land on you. Just for a second, you think, but it’s enough to make your pulse quicken.

But you look away before you could give her a chance to the way your cheeks reddened slightly, thought it would’ve been hard to see anyway underneath the dimness of the light.

You ended up in a booth in one of the corners of the room, sitting with a couple of your classmates as they drank and ate their pizza. The booth creaks slightly as you lean back, your drink—something simple and unadventurous—sitting untouched in front of you.

The group you came with has scattered across the room now to various corners of the bar, their loud laughter and shouts blending into the rest of the noise.

You’re not sure why you agreed to come tonight. Finals around the corner were stressful enough without the added distraction of cheap liquor and the kind of music that vibrates in your chest.

Across from you, someone slides into the booth with a bit too much enthusiasm, too much confidence, their knee knocking against yours under the table.

You glance up to find a man from your group—one of those classmates whose name you barely remember—flashing you a wide grin. Jason? Jacob? He had short brown hair, a white button up under his coat and smells faintly of whiskey and strong cologne, his cheeks flushed in a way that suggests he’s had a drink too many.

“Hey,” he says, his voice pitched louder than it needs to be over the music. “You’re in Professor Medarda’s class, right? Postmodern lit?”

You blink at him, already regretting this conversation.

“Yeah,” you reply, tone flat, hoping he’ll get the hint and move on.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans in, propping his elbow on the sticky table like he’s settling in for a long chat.

“Aren’t you the one who absolutely wrecked her in that debate? Something about, what was it—‘deconstructing the deconstruction’ or whatever?” He waves a hand vaguely, his grin turning lopsided. “Man, that was brutal. Everyone was talking about it for days.”

You press your lips into a thin line, your gaze drifting toward the bar. The bartender with the pink hair is still there, moving effortlessly behind the bar underneath the warm glow of the lights. She laughs at something one of the regulars says, the sound faint but distinct over the din, and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere but here, maybe talking to her instead of… this guy.

“Yeah, well,” you say finally, dragging your attention back to him. “It wasn’t… really a debate. I just pointed out that her entire argument was contradictory.”

Jason-or-Jacob—whatever—laughs, a little too loudly, and takes a swig of his drink.

“See, that’s what I mean! It’s… it’s impressive… And not to mention… you’re… really pretty on the eyes.” He gestures vaguely in your direction, his eyes lingering a little too long.

You shift uncomfortably as you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Uh… right, thanks.”

He chuckles again, clearly not picking up on your disinterest. “No, seriously. You’re, like, intimidating. Smart. And hot. In a good way.”

“Uh-huh.” You tap your fingers against the edge of your glass, your patience wearing thin. “Listen, if this is your way of hitting on me, you might want to workshop it… or something.”

That finally seems to trip him up, his grin faltering as he moves awkwardly in his seat. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just…”

“Right,” you cut him off, standing and grabbing your drink. “Thanks for the conversation, but I’m gonna go… anywhere else.”

You don’t bother waiting for his response as you stand and step away from the booth, weaving through the crowd.

The bar feels slightly less oppressive now that you’re moving, and as you approach the counter, you can’t help but glance toward the bartender again. She’s wiping down a glass, her movements precise, and for the second time tonight, her eyes meet yours. This time, there’s a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe—as her lips twitch into a subtle smirk.

You set your drink down on the counter, your heart skipping just a little. Maybe tonight isn’t a complete waste after all.

The stool creaks faintly as you settle onto it, the weight of the night pressing on your shoulders. You prop your elbow on the bar and glance down at your drink, still untouched. The condensation clings to the glass, cool against your fingertips as you absently trail them along its surface.

The music feels louder here, basslines thrumming through the wooden counter, but it fades into the background every time your gaze drifts upward—to her.

The bartender.

She’s been moving nonstop, hands deft and practiced as she pours drinks, slides glasses across the counter, and exchanges brief words with customers. She was confident and smooth without even trying, her short pink hair glowing faintly under the neon lights that flicker lazily behind her.

You tell yourself you’re not staring, but you are.

She’s impossibly attractive, the kind of person who seems entirely out of reach—too cool, too confident, too… everything. And yet, you catch yourself glancing her way more often than you should, trying to look away quickly enough that she doesn’t notice.

You sigh, shifting in your seat as you fiddle with your drink again, fingers tracing patterns on the glass. You haven’t taken a sip, and you’re not even sure why you ordered it. It was just something to hold, something to keep you occupied in this crowded room.

Just as you glance up again, hoping to catch another fleeting glimpse of her, a voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Hey there,” someone slurs, the words thick and clumsy.

You blink, turning to find a man standing far too close, his grin lopsided and his eyes glassy from too many drinks. His shirt is untucked, and he sways slightly as he leans an elbow on the bar, effectively blocking your view of anything else—including her.

“You’re way too pretty to be sitting here all alone,” he says, his words slurred. “Let me keep you company, yeah?”

“I’m not alone,” you say flatly, holding up your glass like it’s proof. “And, I’m not interested.”

He laughs, as if you’ve said something charming. “Nah, come on. You’re too gorgeous to be hiding away in the corner. You need someone to—”

“No,” you interrupt, your tone sharp. “I’m really not interested.”

But he doesn’t take the hint. Instead, he leans in closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Don’t be like that. Just one drink, huh? I promise I’m a good time.”

You grimace, leaning back and trying to create some distance. “And I promise I’m not.”

The man chuckles, as if he thinks you’re joking, and you feel your frustration rising. You glance around, hoping someone—anyone—might intervene, and that’s when you notice her again. The bartender.

She’s been watching, her sharp eyes narrowing as she assesses the situation. Her hands pause mid-motion as she sets down a freshly poured drink, and without missing a beat, she walks over to your side of the bar.

“Hey,” she says, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

The drunk man looks up, startled, as she plants both hands on the counter, leaning slightly forward. Her gaze is steely as she stares down the man next to you.

“You bothering her?” she asks, her tone deceptively casual, though there’s a warning laced in her words.

The man blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What? No, we were just talkin’.”

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t look like she’s enjoying the conversation,” she replies smoothly. Then she turns her attention to you, her expression softening just a fraction. “You good, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. The word sends a small jolt through your chest, and for a moment, you can only shake your head, your voice caught in your throat.

The man mutters something under his breath, but the bartender doesn’t budge.

“You should go.” she says firmly. “Or I’ll have someone make you leave.”

He hesitates, but the weight of her stare is enough to make him backpedal. He stumbles away, disappearing into the crowd, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Thanks,” you murmur, glancing up at her.

You see her more clearly now. Light blue eyes. A strong nose. A small scar over her top lip. Another one over her eyebrow. Nose ring. And a small tattoo of the Roman numeral six on her cheek.

She straightens, brushing her hands off on a rag as a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips.

“Don’t mention it. A lot of people don’t know how to take a hint.”

You can’t help but smile faintly, your fingers still absently fiddling with your glass. “You seem good at dealing with them… They listen to you.”

“Well, there’s this rule around here that, uh, people shouldn’t really mess with the guy who pours the drinks, so… they either listen or I call Loris—our big scary bouncer.” she says with a smile, leaning against the bar now, her full attention on you.

“Do they always listen?”

The bartender smiles that charming smile of hers and simply says, “No.”

She clears her throat and looks down at your hands, then looks back up at you with an eyebrow raised.

“You gonna drink that, or is it just decoration?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” you say. Her teasing tone makes your cheeks warm. You glance down at your untouched drink, swirling the liquid idly in the glass before muttering, almost to yourself, “I don’t actually drink that often, to be honest…”

Her voice pulls you from your thoughts, warm and teasing. “A glass of water for the pretty lady, coming right up.”

Your head snaps up at the words, your cheeks instantly heating. She’s already reaching for a clean glass. But there’s something different now—something about the way she smirks just a little as she glances at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Pretty lady?” you echo, trying for casual, though you’re sure the slight waver in your voice gives you away.

She shrugs as she fills the glass with water, the ice clinking softly against the sides.

“Well, yeah,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What else would I call you?”

Your stomach flips at the nonchalant confidence in her tone, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. “I don’t know. Most people just go with my name.”

She places the water in front of you, her smile widening just enough to show off the faintest hint of dimples. “Fair enough. But I don’t know your name yet.”

You hesitate, caught between the urge to give her your name and the inexplicable nerves that come with her attention.

You tell her your name, your voice a bit quieter than you intended.

Her smirk softens into something more genuine, and she repeats your name back to you, slow and deliberate, like she’s trying it out.

“I’m Vi,” she says.

Vi. The name suits her—short, sharp, and just as bold as the woman herself.

“Thanks for the water,” you manage to say, your fingers brushing the cool glass.

“Anytime.” Vi leans her weight on her forearms, resting them on the counter as she tilts her head slightly, her eyes catching yours. “So, if you’re not much of a drinker, what brings you here?”

You can’t help but smile, a small laugh escaping you despite yourself. “My friend thought I needed a break from studying. Dragged me out here against my better judgment.”

“Ah… Those your friends over there?” She nods her head in a certain direction, and you follow it slowly.

You see the group you came with, some scattered by the bar spilling drinks and laughing loudly, others by booths making out and shouting over the music and the rest dancing on the dance floor. There are others, who are gathered by the jukebox, laughing and trying to figure out how to play something other than the heavy bass thundering through the speakers. One of them is gesturing wildly, clearly tipsy, while another leans against the wall, scrolling through their phone like they’re already over it.

You shake your head and smile, “Yeah…”

“Loud bunch.”

“Sorry ‘bout that… finals are coming up soon this month, so...”

She gives you a smile and says, “No need to apologize, princess. I serve you, remember?”

Another one. Princess. You were sure you probably as red as a tomato now.

“I barely know half of them...” you say, taking sip of your new glass of water.

“So, what’s your usual crowd then?” Vi asked, her eyes completely on you as she grabs a glass to wipe it down with a rag.

You shrugs, “Textbooks?”

“Well, that’s no good.”

“So I’ve heard,” you reply dryly, taking another small sip of the water she’d poured for you.

She chuckles again as if she finds your answer amusing in a way she doesn’t quite want to admit.

“I’m not exactly big on crowds either,” she says, leaning a little closer as if sharing a secret.

You raise an eyebrow, gesturing subtly to the packed room around you, where people are practically spilling over each other in their rush to the bar. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”

Vi follows your gaze, scanning the chaotic scene with a small smirk tugging at her lips.

“Fair point,” she concedes, looking back at you.

You glance at her again, curious despite yourself. She’s standing still now, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her gaze is on you, not in the sharp, observant way she’s probably used to watching the bar, but softer—almost like she’s lost in thought.

Her smile is faint, but it’s there, tugging gently at her lips, and it’s different from the teasing smirks you’ve seen so far. This one feels more… personal, like she’s mulling something over and doesn’t quite realize she’s staring.

Your stomach twists, her attention making you acutely aware of every small movement you make—the way your fingers nervously trace the condensation on your glass, the way you’re trying not to shift under her gaze.

Finally, you can’t help but ask, your voice a touch quieter than you intend, “What?”

Vi blinks, like you’ve pulled her out of a daydream, and her soft smile turns into something a little sheepish.

“Sorry…” she says, before licking her lips. “Just, uh, a bit distracted.”

Her eyes linger on you for a moment longer, as if she’s debating saying something else. Absentmindedly, she tries to trace every feature of your face with your eyes, trying to remember it.

She wanted to say something else—anything… But, fuck. You were really pretty… and it was distracting her. She also decided that she really liked talking to you—even though it’s barely been ten minutes.

But then, from down the counter, someone shouts her name—a regular by the sound of it, slurring slightly as he waves an empty glass in the air.

“Vi! Another round over here!”

Vi doesn’t move right away. Her head turns slightly in the direction of the call, but her attention snaps back to you almost immediately. She hesitates, not wanting to go anywhere.

She shifts her weight, one hand resting on the counter, her body angled toward you even as she glances down the bar.

“Be right there!” she calls back. It’s almost begrudging.

Your lips twitch into a small smile, watching the tiny battle play out on her face.

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” you say lightly, though there’s something a little playful in your tone.

Her eyes dart back to yours, and she huffs out a soft laugh, her hand running through her short pink hair.

“Yeah, I know,” she smiles and mutters, almost to herself, before adding softly, almost like a plea, “Call me if you need anything?”

You nod and she smiles. You watch her go, the faint blush on your cheeks lingering as you sip at the water she poured, the ice cold and refreshing.

For the first time tonight, you’re glad your friend dragged you out.

You cant stop thinking about her.

The library is silent except for the soft rustling of pages and the faint clicking of keyboards. It’s a lot more crowded here now, especially during this time of the year, and you’ve grown not to like it. You’re hunched over a stack of textbooks, a highlighter in your hand, staring down at a paragraph you’ve already reread three times. The words swim on the page, refusing to stick, as if your brain has decided it’s reached its limit.

You let out a frustrated sigh and lean back in your chair, dragging a hand through your hair. The fluorescent lights overhead feel harsher than usual, and the quiet tension of finals week is suffocating.

But it’s not just the studying—or the endless pressure of upcoming exams—that’s been messing with your head.

It’s Vi.

You’ve tried to focus, tried to immerse yourself in everything you could but every time your mind starts to settle, her face slips back in. The way her smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. The way her pink hair caught the light behind the bar. The low, teasing lilt of her voice when she called you pretty.

You groan softly, rubbing your temples. This is ridiculous. You barely know her. You’ve spent what—maybe an hour total in her presence? And yet, she’s managed to lodge herself into your thoughts so completely that it’s becoming a problem.

The highlighter in your hand falls to the desk with a muted thud, and you drop your head into your hands, your elbows resting on the textbook in front of you. You can still see the way she looked at you—softly, like she saw something in you that others hadn’t bothered to notice.

It’s infuriating, really. You’ve got finals to prepare for, and instead, your mind is full of half-replayed conversations and fleeting glimpses of pink hair, strong arms and tattoos.

The worst part? You can’t shake the feeling that she’s thinking about you, too.

It’s irrational—you know that. She’s probably forgotten all about you by now, busy serving countless other customers, flashing that same smirk at someone else.

But a part of you, buried beneath the layers of reason and logic you cling to, whispers otherwise.

You snap out of your thoughts and glance at the open book in front of you. The words blur together again, mocking your lack of focus.

With a frustrated exhale, you push the textbook aside and pull out your phone, the screen lighting up in your hand. You scroll aimlessly for a moment, debating whether you’re actually considering what your restless thoughts are urging you to do.

Should you go back? Would she even remember you?

You shake your head, trying to will away the temptation.

Finals. Study. Focus.

You tap your pen against your notebook, each click bouncing off the walls of the crowded library. It’s packed to the brim, filled with students just as desperate as you to cram as much information into their heads as possible before finals. Yet, instead of feeling motivated, all you can focus on is the cacophony—the whispered conversations that aren’t really whispers, the shuffling of papers, the faint tapping of keyboards, the occasional obnoxious laugh breaking the tension.

Your head throbs.

With a sharp sigh, you drop the pen onto the desk and lean back in your chair again, staring blankly at the high ceiling. You’ve been sitting here for hours, yet the number of notes you’ve managed to take is embarrassingly low. Nothing is sticking. You can’t focus.

It doesn’t help that your thoughts keep drifting to her.

To Vi.

You shake your head as if it’ll clear the image, but it doesn’t.

The noise of the library swells again, louder this time—a group of students a few tables down bursts into laughter, drawing glares from everyone around them. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help.

The dorm wasn’t any better. Earlier, when you’d tried to study there, the walls practically vibrated with the bass of someone’s speaker. The hallway had been filled with voices, laughter, and the unmistakable sound of another dorm party kicking off despite the looming threat of finals.

You’d lasted maybe twenty minutes before storming out, bag slung over your shoulder, hoping the library would be better.

It wasn’t.

You sit there for a moment, staring down at your open textbook and the mess of half-finished notes in front of you. The sheer impossibility of getting anything done right now feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Screw this.

You grab your things in one swift motion, shoving your notebook and pens into your bag with more force than necessary. The chair scrapes loudly against the floor as you stand, drawing a few annoyed glances your way. You ignore them, slinging your bad over your shoulder and walking out of the library without so much as a glance back.

The cold evening air hits you the second you step outside, sharp and bracing, but you welcome it.

You pause at the edge of the path, staring out at the quiet campus bathed in the glow of dim streetlights. You should go back to your dorm, try again, push through the noise.

But the very thought of that makes your stomach twist.

Instead, your feet carry you forward, down the path and out toward the street. You don’t have a destination in mind, but you already know where you’ll end up.

It’s not a conscious decision—it never is, really. You tell yourself you just need a break, some fresh air to clear your head. But the truth hums beneath the surface, undeniable.

You want to see her.

When your feet finally stop, the bar looms in front of you, the soft glow of its neon sign illuminating the damp pavement below. The night air is cool against your skin, a faint breeze carrying the quiet hum of traffic and chatter.

Your hands are shoved deep into the pockets of your jacket, fingers curling into the fabric as you linger just outside the door. You glance at your reflection in the window—a hoodie that hangs a little loose on your frame, jeans you’ve had for years, and shoes slightly scuffed from the walk here.

You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you’d thought to stop by your dorm first. Maybe throw on something a little prettier. But instead, your feet had brought you straight here, as if they knew something you didn’t.

It’s almost 9 p.m., and the bar looks alive even from the outside. You can always hear the faint hum of music seeping through the walls.

You hesitate. What are you even doing here? It’s not like you have a good excuse—no friends dragging you along this time, no group to blend into. You’re alone, standing in front of a bar where you might not even be remembered.

But the thought of her pulls at you, stronger than the nerves keeping your feet planted. You’d tried to shake her from your thoughts all week, telling yourself she was just a random bartender, someone you’d probably never see again. But it hadn’t worked. Every time you sat down to study, her face would slip into your mind.

Your chest tightens as you reach for the door, your hand hovering over the handle. What if she doesn’t remember you? Or worse—what if she does, and she thinks it’s weird that you’ve come back?

You shake your head, trying to push the doubts aside. You’re here now. You might as well step inside.

With a deep breath, you pull the door open and step into the warm, dimly lit space. The scent of alcohol and faint traces of perfume hit you first.

The bar is slightly less crowded than it had been the last time, but it still carries the same energy—low lights, muted colors, and a buzz of life that makes the air feel heavier than the world outside.

You glance toward the bar, your stomach twisting when you see her. Vi is behind the counter, her pink hair catching the soft light as she leans over to pass a drink to a customer. She straightens, her expression neutral as she scans the room, and then her eyes land on you.

For a split second, her face doesn’t change, and panic spikes in your chest. Maybe she doesn’t—

Then she smiles.

It’s subtle, but it’s there—a small, warm quirk of her lips that sends your nerves scattering in a hundred directions. She holds your gaze for just a moment before returning to what she’s doing, her hands moving fluidly to pour another drink.

You let out a shaky breath, your feet carrying you closer to the bar. You slide into one of the empty stools, trying to shake off the nervous energy buzzing under your skin. The cool wood of the counter feels solid beneath your palms as you rest your elbows on it, trying to make yourself look casual.

But it’s hard to relax with your pulse pounding so loudly in your ears. You glance around the room, looking for anything to distract you from the fact that she’s here.

You’re trying not to fidget with your fingers, not to bite the inside of your lip, not to seem like you’ve been thinking about this moment for days now—trying to shake the nerves that have settled into your bones. But it’s hard when you feel her presence just behind the bar.

It doesn’t take long before you feel her eyes on you.

You glance up just in time to see Vi, mid-conversation with another customer, glance over the counter at you. And in a split second, she’s finished what she’s saying to the customer, brushing past them with an ease.

She doesn’t even seem bothered by the fact that she’s walking away mid-conversation. It’s as if she’s already decided where she needs to be.

Your pulse quickens.

You watch her approach, the way she moves is confident, the soft hum of the music surrounding her as she gets closer. Her smile is almost shy this time, like she’s not entirely sure what to say after the last time you were here. But she doesn’t hesitate.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again,” she says as soon as she reaches you, her voice low, almost teasing, with just a hint of something more.

Her words catch you off guard for a second. You shift slightly on your stool, trying to keep your cool, but you can feel the heat creeping up your neck. Her gaze is steady, not flirtatious exactly, but certainly interested, like she’s been waiting for this moment as much as you have.

You clear your throat, and even though you try to sound casual, your voice betrays you.

“I didn’t really expect to be back so soon.” The words feel like a weak excuse even as you say them.

Vi chuckles softly, leaning just a little closer as she rests her hands on the counter, her gaze never leaving you. “Not really the type to stay away for long, huh?”

There’s that spark in her eyes again, that teasing warmth that makes you wonder if she’s deliberately making you squirm.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide the nervous flutter in your chest.

“I needed a break,” you explain quickly, looking away for a moment. “Studying was driving me crazy.”

You pull your bag closer to the bar, pretending to straighten it out, but your thoughts keep slipping back to her.

Vi’s smile softens a little as she studies you, her eyes tracing your face for a moment longer than necessary. She doesn’t seem in a rush, doesn’t try to fill the space with empty words or awkward small talk.

You swallow, suddenly aware of how much closer she’s gotten, how much she’s drawn you in. There’s an easy chemistry between you, something unspoken but undeniable.

“Well,” she adds, a teasing glint in her eye as she straightens back up, “What’s your drink of choice, princess?”

You almost forget how to breathe for a second at the sudden shift in the atmosphere, your heart racing again. You take a moment to collect yourself before replying, your voice just a little quieter than usual.

“Surprise me,” you say, the words coming out with a confidence you don’t entirely feel.

Vi’s smile deepens, her eyes flashing with something a little mischievous, “Think I can manage that.”

She decides on making something light and sweet—remembering that you didn’t drink that often.

You watch her as she begins to gather the ingredients for your drink, her hands moving expertly behind the bar. The soft clink of glass bottles and the gentle hiss of the tap. You barely even realize you’re fidgeting until you catch sight of her looking back at you, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Finals week started?” She asks.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by the question. The thought of finals feels like a weight you’ve been trying to avoid all week. The textbooks, the endless hours of studying, the fact that you’re still not feeling ready for any of it—it all hits you again in that instant. But Vi’s gaze makes it hard to focus on anything else.

For a split second, you can feel it too—the awkwardness, the nerves, the slight flutter in your chest that feels completely out of place. It’s not just her usual flirtation. This feels different somehow. She’s not the smooth bartender effortlessly working the crowd, she’s… her. And it makes your heart skip in a way you’re trying to ignore.

“Yeah, it did,” you answer, your voice quieter than you intended. You rub the back of your neck, feeling a little out of place yourself. “It’s… been a nightmare. The library’s packed, the dorm’s loud—honestly, it’s like no one even remembers that we have to actually study for this stuff.”

She raises an eyebrow, her smile never quite fading but now tinged with something a little more… uncertain. Her gaze flits between you and the drinks in front of her, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s just waiting for something to happen.

“Seems like you’re trying to avoid it,” she says softly, her tone lighter but still holding that underlying curiosity. Her voice is almost shy now, like she’s letting down the tough-girl act just a little, and it feels natural. She looks at you again, this time a little less playful and more vulnerable.

You feel something stir inside of you at her words—maybe relief, maybe the sense that she’s giving you a little window into her own world.

“Yeah, kind of,” you admit, your gaze dropping to the counter as you fiddle with the edge of your glass. You take a breath, glancing back up at her, your tone playful but also a little softer than you meant.

She’s leaning slightly over the counter, her eyes scanning the room for a moment, as though looking for your friends. When she doesn’t find them, her gaze returns to you, a small quirk of her lips tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Here alone tonight?” she asks, her tone light and soft.

You feel a small flutter in your chest, a hint of nervousness bubbling up—was she genuinely interested?

“Yeah,” you say, a little unsure, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass. “My friends are… off somewhere else.”

Vi nods slowly, that small smile still playing on her lips, and for a second, you almost feel like she’s understanding you without needing you to say much at all. She’s always been so good at reading people, it seems.

“Well, lucky for you,” she says with a wink, her tone playful but sincere, “I’m here to keep you company, then. No need to be alone if you don’t want to be.”

She leans a little closer, her voice dropping just low enough that only you can hear.

“Not that I mind the company, either.”

Her words settle in your chest, warm and easy, and for a brief moment, it feels like everything else—the noise, the people, the pressure of exams—falls away. All that’s left is the gentle pull of her attention, the way she makes you feel like you’re the only one she wants to talk to tonight.

You can’t help but smile, your nerves starting to ease.

“I like that you’re here,” you say, a little quieter now, the honesty behind your words surprising even you.

Oh.

Vi swallows the tiny lump in her throat, ears reddening at your words.

“Me too,” she says softly, her eyes meeting yours.

And then the night stretches on, the sound of clinking glasses and lively chatter filling the air, but somehow, the noise feels distant.

Vi moves between you and the rest of the bar, always managing to return to you just as you start to think she’s too busy to notice. She steps away occasionally to serve drinks, her smile never fading even when the pressure of the crowd pulls her in different directions.

Every time she returns, though, she looks at you with that same look in her eye, making you feel like you’re the only person in the room who matters. You can tell that she’s working, but there’s an ease in the way she glances over at you, as though she’s intentionally carving out space to keep you company, to make sure you’re not left alone in the bustle of the bar.

As the crowd grows louder and the night wears on, Vi seems to sense that things are getting a little out of hand. The rush of orders starts picking up, and she glances over at Mylo, a colleague of hers you’ve seen around. With a quick wave, she calls him over.

You watch as Vi leans against the bar, her body language shifting just slightly.

“Hey, Mylo, could you cover the drinks for a bit?” she asked, her tone casual, but there’s something unspoken in the way she does it. Mylo gives her a knowing glance, then nods and steps in to take over, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Vi doesn’t waste any time.

For the rest of the night, she stays close, always coming back to check on you between serving drinks, leaning against the bar whenever she has a spare moment. Mylo helps manage the crowd, but Vi is there, always making sure you’re okay, always drawing you back into the conversation.

There’s no rush, no pressure—just an easy flow between you two, and the more time you spend with her, the next time her eyes meet yours, the way she smiled, the more you realize that this is something you’ve been craving without even knowing it.

The night slips away quietly, and when you glance at the clock on the wall behind the bar, a wave of disappointment hits you.

It’s later than you thought. You hesitate for a moment, your fingers brushing the edge of your empty glass, and then you finally say it, though it’s not what you want to say at all.

“I should, uh… get going,” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intended. You already know you’ll regret it—regret leaving this place, leaving her.

Vi’s smile falters just a little, her eyes quickly flicking to the clock too, and you see the shift on her face, like she’s come to the same realization. There’s a brief, almost imperceptible pause between the two of you as the world around you continues on, but time seems to slow as she takes a breath.

“I… didn’t realize it was that late either,” she says, her tone softer now. And for a brief second, you can almost feel the space between you close in, like neither of you really wants to say goodbye.

Then, without skipping a beat, Vi’s voice pulls you back into the present.

“Hey,” she starts firmly, like she’s made up her mind about something. “Let me walk you back.”

You blink at her, the suggestion catching you off guard. You hadn’t expected her to offer—hadn’t thought she’d even consider it. And though a little part of you wants to say yes immediately, another part of you, the shyer, more self-conscious part, hesitates.

“I don’t want to put you out,” you say quickly, though you’re not entirely sure why you feel so shy all of a sudden. “Besides, you’re working.”

It’s a simple thing, after all, a walk.

But you’d be even more alone. With her. And although that made you excited, it made you even more nervous.

Vi doesn’t give you the chance to second-guess yourself. Her smile returns, and there’s a spark of something playful in her eyes.

“It’s no trouble,” she says, her tone light but insistent. “I’m not going to let you walk back alone at this time. I don’t think I’d be able to focus without knowing you got home safe, so...”

Before you can protest again, she turns to Mylo, who’s tending to the growing crowd at the far end of the bar.

“Hey, Mylo!” she calls out, her voice carrying just enough over the noise to catch his attention. “I’m taking my break now. Be back in a bit.”

Mylo doesn’t even look up from his work, just nods in acknowledgment. “Alright, Vi,” he calls back, and you catch the playful undertone in his voice. It’s clear he knows exactly what’s going on.

Not wasting any more time, Vi grabs her jacket from behind the bar. She slips it on ace doesn’t look back at you to see if you’re ready; she just turns, giving you that soft, inviting smile.

“C’mon,” she says, her voice low and gentle, like she’s pulling you into something that feels a little outside of the ordinary, but in the best way possible.

Her words make you pause, but only for a moment. You look at her—really look at her—and something about the way she’s standing there, waiting, makes your hesitation dissolve. The warmth in her smile settles in your chest, and for the first time in a while, you realize you don’t mind the idea of the night stretching out just a little longer.

You nod, a soft smile curling at your lips.

“Okay,” you say, your voice more confident than it was a second ago.

Vi grins.

Without another word, she starts walking toward the door, holding it open for you, and you follow her out into the cold night air. The city seems quieter now, the streets not as busy, and as the two of you step into the night, the world feels a little smaller, a little more intimate—just the two of you, alone together for the walk.

You can’t help but feel your heart race just a little, but in the best possible way.

The walk to your dorm is slower than you expect, almost as if neither of you wants to rush through it. The night air is cold, the streetlights casting soft pools of light on the sidewalk. The hum of distant traffic fades into the background as you walk side by side, your pace matching each other’s, no one in a hurry.

You’re not sure what it is, but something about the silence between you feels comfortable—like there’s no pressure, just two people walking together. Vi’s steps are easy, casual, but every so often, she glances at you from the corner of her eye, as though she’s watching you without even realizing it. It’s subtle, but you catch her gaze a few times, and each time, she looks away just a fraction too late, as if she was lost in thought.

You can’t help but notice it, how her eyes linger on you, how her attention feels a little more intense than you’re used to, but it’s not uncomfortable. No, it’s the opposite, actually—it feels like she’s admiring something in you, and the idea makes your stomach flutter in a way you can’t quite explain.

Vi keeps most of the conversation light at first, teasing you about how you managed to get through the day without completely falling apart under the weight of finals. But soon enough, the banter turns into something more genuine, more personal, and you find yourself sharing little details about your life.

Vi, on the other hand, seems to enjoy telling you bits and pieces about herself. She talks about the things she’s passionate about—how bartending isn’t just a job for her, but something that gives her a connection to people and to her dad especially, how she loves the way a good drink can change someone’s mood, make them feel more at ease. She tells you about her favorite spots in the city, the places she goes when she wants to unwind or just take a break from the noise.

She mentions that she has a little sister—one that she’s so proud of with how smart she is. She has a scholarship at some other university a pretty far from here, and you can tell Vi misses her dearly.

For the entire way, Vi doesn’t stop glancing at you.

It’s soft and subtle, but you can see it, feel it—the way her eyes linger on you, tracing the lines of your face in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out.

And for the first time in a while, you don’t mind being the center of someone’s attention. You can’t help but wonder if, in some small way, she feels the same as you.

“So, your dorm’s just up ahead, right?” Vi says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Her voice is low, and there’s a hint of something soft in it. You realize, in that moment, that this walk has felt… different.

“Yeah, just a couple more blocks,” you reply, your voice a little quieter now, feeling like the night has already given you more than you expected.

Eventually, the two of you reach the entrance of your building. It was an apartment style dorm, sitting just a few miles away from campus.

You stop for a moment, your feet lingering on the sidewalk as you take a small breath, suddenly feeling reluctant.

You don’t want it to end—not just yet.

But before you can say anything, the loud thump of music reaches your ears, coming from one of the floors above. Vi’s eyes flick up toward the building, and her brow furrows slightly as she notices the source of the noise.

“Guess the party’s already in full swing,” she murmurs, a bit of a wry smile tugging at her lips, but there’s something in her tone that’s a little amused.

“Yeah. The usual,” you say, your voice tinged with mild exasperation. You chuckle softly, rubbing the back of your neck, feeling a little embarrassed. “They don’t really care if it’s late… It can be quiet sometimes… but on rare occasions.”

Vi glances up at the building, the loud music still spilling out from one of the floors. She hesitates for a moment, then looks back at you.

“You know, uh, the bar doesn’t… open until six… I mean, the lounge opens at ten, but… no one really comes around that time,” she says, her voice quieter now, as if the suggestion she’s about to make is somehow more personal.

She glances at you again, her eyes flickering with tiny hint of nervousness.

“You could, uh, come earlier if you want some quiet… I’ll be there.”

You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t expected her to offer her own space at all. The bar, of all places.

You feel a warmth spread through you at the thought, a pull you hadn’t expected. Something about it makes your heart race a little faster, and you find yourself hesitating, uncertain if you should take the leap.

It was kind of a lousy excuse, Vi thought, but at least she’d get to see you again, instead of waiting all week to see if you’d stop by.

Though she knew she probably should’ve just asked you out on a date like a normal person, but… maybe she’d be able to see more of you this way.

“Vi, I—” you start, but you don’t really know what to say.

“You don’t have to,” she adds quickly, her voice gentle, as if she’s afraid to push too hard. “But if you’re looking for a place to study, it’s quiet in the mornings. And I promise not to be in your way. You don’t have to stay long or anything—just… if you want to, I’m there. And we could talk more, or just… not.”

The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard, and you feel a small tug at your chest.

You glance at her, meeting her eyes for just a moment, and that’s all it takes. Despite the swirl of thoughts in your head, you find yourself nodding.

“Okay,” you say, your voice steady now, though there’s a trace of something soft beneath it. “I’d really like that.”

You watch as her smile brightens, a little relieved and a little pleased, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything, she just nods.

Vi pauses just as she’s about to turn away, a hesitant look crossing her face. For a moment, she seems to be second-guessing herself, like she’s trying to figure out the best way to say something without overstepping. Then, with a slight sheepishness that’s almost endearing, she glances back at you, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly.

“Oh, shit, I-I should probably give you my number… you know, in case I’m not there or anything,” she says, her voice a little softer, a little more self-conscious than usual. Her fingers nervously tug at the hem of her jacket, and her eyes flicker away briefly.

You can’t help but smile at the way she’s acting—this confident, capable bartender who, just moments ago, had been so cool and smooth, now hesitating as if she’s unsure whether she’s overstepping by asking for your number.

You reach for your phone, feeling a small rush of warmth in your chest.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” you say, your voice light but warm, trying to make her feel at ease.

You quickly unlock your phone and pass it to her, offering a small, reassuring smile.

Vi’s fingers brush against yours as she takes your phone, and for a second, the touch lingers. She types in her number quickly, and you catch the faintest flicker of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. She hands the phone back to you after saving her contact information and you glance down at the screen.

violet :)

“Done,” she says, her voice light again. “Just… in case you need to reach me or anything…”

Vi pulls out her phone, her fingers slightly fumbling as she unlocks it. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and she gives you a small, almost nervous smile. You type your number into her phone in return, and when you hand it back, you make sure your fingers brush against hers just a little longer than necessary. She smiles softly when she gets her phone back, seeing the small heart you put next to your name.

“Thank you, Vi,” you say softly, feeling a little bolder now.

She grins, the playful glint in her eyes back now, “Text me… whenever.”

She lingers, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, the edges of her smile bright but just a little tight, like she’s holding something back. Her eyes meet yours, warm and soft, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

You notice the way her gaze flickers, almost imperceptibly, down to your lips. It’s quick, barely a second, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Your heart thuds in your chest, and you wonder if she realizes how obvious she is—or maybe she doesn’t care. Either way, her attention makes your stomach flip in a way you’re not entirely prepared for.

“I should…” she begins, her voice quiet and almost reluctant. She shifts on her feet, looking down for a moment before glancing back up at you. She hesitates, like she’s searching for a reason to stay, even though she knows she can’t. “…get back to work.”

Her words are practical, but the way she says them—soft and almost regretful—makes it clear she doesn’t really want to leave.

She’s stalling, and you can tell.

For once, Vi doesn’t have that confidence she carries behind the bar. Right now, she just looks… a little unsure. A little vulnerable.

“Goodnight,” you say softly, the words gentle but carrying more weight than you intended.

Her smile widens, though it’s still tight-lipped, and she nods, her hands still buried in her jacket pockets.

“Yeah… goodnight, princess,” she echoes, her voice just above a whisper. She lingers for another second, her gaze sweeping over your face before she finally steps back.

The sound of her boots on the pavement fades as she turns and walks away, heading back down the street toward the bar.

As she disappears into the distance, you catch yourself glancing at your phone, her number now saved there, and you wonder how long you’ll be able to resist texting her. The night air feels colder without her, but the warmth she left behind lingers all the same.

Truth be told, Vi isn’t usually the one to open the bar.

That’s Mylo’s job, and it’s been that way for as long as she can remember. Surprisingly, he’s the early bird, arriving just maybe thirty before ten—always grumbling about it but showing up on time regardless, keys jangling as he flips on the lights and starts the long process of getting the place ready. It’s quiet in the morning, and it’s practically empty until the sun starts to set.

Vi’s shift doesn’t typically start until later in the evening, right when the crowd begins to build, when the air gets thick with chatter and the clink of glass. That’s her time, where she thrives: loud music, fast drinks, and tiny bit of chaos.

But as soon as Vi gets back to work that night after walking you to you back, something shifts. She heads straight behind the bar, sets her jacket down with a quickly, and finds Mylo leaning against the counter, lazily wiping down the counter like he always does. He glances up at her, one brow quirked, clearly ready to make some smart comment about her lateness and tease her about that little crush she has on you.

But before he can get a word out, she cuts him off.

“I’m opening from now on,” she says flatly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Mylo freezes mid-motion, the rag in his hand hovering over the counter. He stares at her for a moment, like he’s not sure he heard her right.

“What?” he says finally, his tone incredulous. “Since when do you wanna deal with the morning grind? You hate opening.”

“Since now,” Vi snaps, her tone sharp like she’s already decided and doesn’t care for an explanation.

Mylo narrows his eyes, leaning against the bar with a skeptical look. “You’re serious? You, of all people, wanna deal with the dead hours?”

“Yeah,” Vi says simply, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and beginning to organize the counter with quick, efficient movements. “It’s not a big deal.”

Mylo snorts, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “It is for you. You hate the quiet. You told me that yourself. Even Claggor hates the quiet.”

Vi doesn’t answer right away.

She busies herself adjusting the liquor bottles, her back turned to him as she forces herself not to think about why she’s doing this—or more accurately, who she’s doing this for. But her thoughts betray her anyway, drifting back to the way you’d looked at her tonight, soft and unsure but trusting, the way you’d smiled at her when she offered you the bar as a place to get away. The memory makes something tighten in her chest.

She finally turns back to Mylo, her face composed, her tone even.

“Just need a change of pace,” she says with a shrug, though even she knows it’s not convincing. “Besides, you could use the extra sleep.”

Mylo stares at her for another beat and squints his eyes, clearly unconvinced but too tired to argue.

“Is this about that girl you were talking with earlier?”

“No,” Vi said all too quickly, but she knows she couldn’t keep up the lie against Mylo for too long. “Maybe… Yes.”

“Why didn’t you just ask her out? Looked like she liked you enough. Plus—she literally came back to see you—“

“Just—Let me have this. If it goes sour, you can have all the free drinks you want.”

“Fine,” he says, throwing his hands up in defeat. “It’s your funeral. Just don’t come crying to me when you’re stuck listening to the same three jazz songs we have on Vander’s old jukebox.”

Vi smirks, but it’s faint, her mind already elsewhere. “Noted.”

The truth is, she doesn’t care about the mornings or the hassle of opening. All she cares about is the chance that you might show up again, walking into the bar in the early hours, looking for a place to escape the noise.

And if that means opening the doors herself, sitting in silence for a couple hours, and putting up with Mylo’s grumbling, so be it.

She doesn’t tell him any of this, though. She just gets back to work, excited for the next time she might see you.

The sunlight filters in through the thin curtains of your dorm room, soft and golden, warming your skin as you slowly wake. Your eyes blink open, the haze of sleep still clinging to you, and for a moment, you simply lie there, staring up at the ceiling.

Then, your mind drifts back to the night before.

Vi… again.

The thought of her hits you like a spark, and you feel a smile tug at your lips before you can stop it. Your chest tightens slightly, but not unpleasantly, just enough to make you feel warm all over.

Still smiling, you roll onto your side, glancing at your phone on the nightstand. The thought of texting her had crossed your mind the second you got back to your room last night, but you hadn’t been sure if you should. What would you even say?

Now, as the morning stretches ahead of you, you find yourself staring at your phone again, the nervous energy in your chest making it hard to breathe.

You pick it up, the screen lighting up instantly. And there it is.

A small notification sits at the top of your screen.

“1 new message from violet :)”

Your heart jumps, and your thumb hovers over the notification for just a second before you tap it, unable to wait any longer. The message opens, and your breath catches when you see it.

not to brag, but it’s very quiet this morning. open invitation ;)

Attached is a picture of the bar. The room is empty, save for the neat rows of chairs and the warm light spilling in from the windows. The space looks so different from the lively, chaotic energy you’d seen before��calm, inviting, almost serene. But what catches your eye most is the subtle detail in the photo: her black jacket draped over the back of one of the chairs in the corner, and a mug sitting on the counter.

She’s there, waiting.

Your heart does a little flip, and you bite your lip, staring at the message. The cheeky little smirk emoji at the end feels so quintessentially Vi, and you can almost hear the teasing lilt in her voice as you read the words again.

You’re not sure how long you sit there, staring at your phone, trying to decide how to respond. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, typing and deleting messages you’re too nervous to send. Finally, you settle on something simple, something safe.

all that space for me?

You hit send before you can overthink it, your chest fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves. Almost immediately, the little bubble indicating she’s typing pops up, and your stomach flips again.

you get special treatment, what can i say?

Her reply comes with another photo—this time, a close-up of her coffee mug on the counter, a little steam curling up from the top. In the background, you can see her hand resting on the bar, the edge of a tattoo peeking out from her wrist. It’s casual, but the fact that she took the time to send it makes your cheeks flush.

You can’t help but smile again, your heart racing as you stare at the screen. The morning, which had started so quietly, now feels electric, buzzing with the possibility of seeing her again. And as you type out your next reply, you can’t help but wonder where this might lead—and how you’ve somehow stumbled into something that already feels so much more than you expected.

You barely even remember the process of getting ready.

It was all a blur of rushing to find something cute, definitely cuter than the night before yet comfortable, sifting through your limited wardrobe for something that felt right. Even though the chill of winter was biting at the edges of the morning, you chose an outfit—layered up enough to keep warm, but nice enough to make you feel put together. You’d even spent a little more time on your hair, fixing it neatly just for Vi to see.

Now, standing in front of the bar, the nerves hit you all at once.

The quiet street around you makes the moment feel even more amplified. You glance at the entrance, the black-painted door that suddenly feels much taller, more imposing, than it had before. Your heart is pounding in your chest, the bag full of textbooks and notes hanging heavy at your side, reminding you of the excuse you gave yourself for coming here.

It’s just a quiet place to study, you tell yourself for the hundredth time, though you know it’s only half the truth.

The other half is much more difficult to admit—that you’re here for her. That something about Vi has been stuck in your head ever since she walked you home, her warm, smooth voice, the way her blue eyes lingered on you. She made your entire body flutter and you can’t help but want more of it.

You take a deep breath, clutching the strap of your bag tightly, and push the door open. The soft chime of the bell above the frame jingles lightly, and you step inside, immediately greeted by the sound of soft jazz playing in the background. The bar looks just like it had in the photo—empty, calm, and warm, bathed in the golden glow of lights reflecting off the polished surfaces.

Your eyes scan the room, and there she is.

Vi stands behind the bar, her jacket from earlier now draped over a nearby stool. She’s pouring herself a cup of coffee, her back to you at first, but as the door closes behind you, she glances over her shoulder. The moment she sees you, her face lights up with that easy smile, the one that makes your chest flutter in ways you’re not quite ready to deal with.

“Look who it is,” she says, setting her mug down and leaning casually against the counter. She folds her arms across her chest, giving you an appraising look. “Was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

You step forward, trying to steady your breathing as you approach the bar. “Well,” you say, your voice soft but steady, “that picture you sent was pretty convincing. Had to check it out for myself.”

Vi’s smile widens, and she gestures to the empty space around you. “Guess you came to the right place, huh? It doesn’t get much quieter than this.”

You nod, trying not to fidget as you sling your bag onto one of the stools. “Yeah. Plus, you did say I’d get special treatment.”

Vi chuckles at that, her voice low and warm, “I did, didn’t I?”

She leans forward slightly, resting her elbows on the counter as she watches you unpack a few of your books.

“Something like that,” you mumble, flipping open a notebook and trying not to let her attention distract you too much. It’s easier said than done, though, especially when you feel her eyes on you, warm and curious, like she’s genuinely interested in every little thing you do.

Vi gestures toward your bag with a playful grin. “Didn’t know you’d bring your entire library with you.”

“It’s called being prepared.”

She smirks at that, but as you settle into your work, she finds herself falling quiet. Her gaze lingers on you as she leans back slightly, folding her arms.

“Go ahead and start. I’ll be here if you need anything,” she says kindly, a smile on her face that made your stomach flutter.

You thank her with a smile and a nod and the only thing Vi can think about is how cute you are.

In just a couple of minutes, you’ve focused up, skimming through a page of dense text, your brow furrowed in concentration, and Vi can’t help but notice the way your nose scrunches just a little when you hit something particularly complicated.

It’s… endearing.

She doesn’t mean to stare. Really, she doesn’t.

The jazz music playing softly in the background seems to fade into white noise as Vi lets herself get lost in the little details of you. The slope of your shoulders, the way your hair falls to the side when you tilt your head, the faint flush in your cheeks that she wonders—hopes—might have something to do with her.

She doesn’t even realize she’s staring until Mylo’s voice echoes in her head: You’re being so obvious, Vi.

She clears her throat, tearing her gaze away and reaching for the coffee mug she’d left on the counter. As she takes a sip, she glances back at you, this time trying to keep her interest a little more subtle.

You catch her staring just as you look up from your book, your eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. Vi freezes, caught, and you tilt your head slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“What?”

She blinks, quickly shaking her head and giving you a grin that’s a little too casual.

“Nothing,” she says, her tone light, though her ears flush faintly.

Then she looks down at her mug, then back up at you. She watches you as you shyly turned away, trying to mask the way your cheeks reddened under her stare. With a soft chuckle under her breath, she moves towards the edge of the bar, finally deciding to make you a cup of coffee.

She moves quietly as she works the espresso machine. The bar is silent except for the faint hum of the machine, the relaxing jazz playing in the background, and the occasional sound of you turning your pages, but her focus isn’t entirely on what she’s doing.

Instead, it keeps drifting to you. Sitting there, head bowed over your notes, and Vi can’t help but notice how different you look today compared to the last time she saw you.

You’re dressed a little nicer today—nothing too flashy, just enough that she can tell you put some thought into it. She likes it. She really likes it.

Maybe it’s the way your sweater hugs your frame a little more snugly, or how your jeans look perfectly paired with your boots. Or maybe it’s just the fact that everything about you feels intentional, like you dressed up… just for her.

Either way, it’s distracting her in the best way possible. She shakes her head slightly, trying to focus on the task at hand, but the thought keeps nudging its way back in: So pretty.

She glances at you as she pours the espresso shot into the cup, the deep brown liquid swirling into the mug. You’re chewing on the cap of a pen, your brow furrowed in concentration, and Vi feels a faint, involuntary smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

She watches closely. Too closely. She watches your lips shamelessly, wrapping your lips around the cylinder shape, biting softly on that pen, and… god, you’re just… something else.

Vi shakes her head and tries to throw the thought out of the window. It’s far too early to be thinking about you like… that.

The hot water follows, and before she knows it, the americano is ready. She sets it on the counter softly, barely making a sound, and steps back to admire her handiwork—not the coffee, but you. And maybe she’d never admit it out loud, but she could probably watch you for hours.

When you finally notice the mug in front of you, you blink up at her with a smile, a little startled.

Vi shrugs, leaning one elbow on the counter, her grin casual but her gaze lingering. “Coffee. Figured you could use it.”

Your lips quirk up slightly at her teasing, but there’s something shy in the way you glance down at the mug, your fingers brushing the edge of it.

“Thank you,” you mumble shyly, almost under your breath.

“No problem, princess.” Vi leans back, her hands sliding into her pockets as she studies you for a moment longer. You’re even prettier up close, she thinks.

After a couple minutes, Vi busies herself cleaning the counter, though her eyes flick back to you more often than she means them to. There’s something about you today that feels different… And if she’s being honest with herself, it’s driving her a little crazy—in a good way.

When Vi had her back turned for a moment, adjusting the bottles on the shelf behind the bar, it was your turn to take the opportunity.

Your eyes wandered before you could stop yourself, taking her in as she worked. She moved smoothly, easy, like she’d done this a thousand times before—and maybe she had—but it didn’t make the sight any less captivating.

You’d been trying to focus on your notes, scribbling little reminders in the margins or flipping pages as if you were actually absorbing the words.

But who were you kidding? You couldn’t concentrate. Not when Vi was right there.

Your gaze lingered on her arms first, toned and inked, muscles flexing just enough with every movement. The way she reached up to straighten a bottle, her fingers long and strong, made your thoughts blur and stutter.

And then there was her profile—the sharp angle of her jawline, the way her asymmetrical lips curved faintly even when she wasn’t smiling. That tiny quirk, one side of her top lip arched slightly higher than the other, was unfairly charming. It made her look like she was always on the edge of smirking, always holding back some witty comment.

When she turned slightly, moving to wipe down the counter again, you quickly dropped your eyes back to your notebook, pretending to read a passage you hadn’t actually taken in.

But the distraction didn’t last long. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her pick up a glass, her hands moving over it in smooth, practiced motions as she polished it to perfection. Her forearms flexed again just slightly, and you caught yourself staring again, your thoughts hazy and full of her.

Every time you looked up, there was something new to notice—the way her brows furrowed just a little when she was focused, the way her tattoos seemed to tell a story you desperately wanted to know. You liked the way her hair fell just a little out of place when she leaned forward, the way her shirt clung to her broad shoulders and the defined curve of her biceps.

You liked the way she moved, so sure of herself yet entirely unaware of just how mesmerizing she was to watch.

It was distracting, sure, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. If anything, you welcomed it.

It didn’t take long for the mornings at the bar to become your new routine.

Vi would open promptly at ten in the morning, and you’d stroll in not long after, bundled up in a jacket, a bag full of textbooks and notebooks slung over your shoulder. She’d always greet you with that soft, lopsided smile of hers, already moving to make you coffee before you even asked.

“Morning, princess,” she’d say, setting the mug in front of you with a little flourish, and you’d roll your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips every time.

You’d settle into your usual spot, unpack your books, and get to work while Vi busied herself behind the counter.

She was always within view, her quiet presence oddly comforting as you flipped through pages and scribbled notes. And she didn’t hover, not exactly, but you knew she kept an eye on you. She’d pause her cleaning or organizing to glance over, catching little glimpses of your concentrated frown or the way you tucked your hair behind your ear absentmindedly.

For you, the quiet space was perfect, and Vi’s company made it even better.

You studied through the morning, your head bent over your books, easily working and concentrating with the quiet surroundings, before eventually packing up to head to your exams in the afternoon.

One morning, though, exhaustion finally caught up with you. You’d been cramming for a couple days, running on little sleep, and your body decided it couldn’t keep up anymore.

Vi noticed you were quieter than usual, your head drooping slightly as you flipped through your notes. She’d thought about saying something but didn’t want to disturb you.

When she looked over again a few minutes later, though, she saw you slumped forward on the counter, your head resting against an open textbook. Your breathing was slow and even, your face pressed against the pages, looking completely at peace.

Vi froze for a moment, her chest tightening in a way she couldn’t quite explain. You looked… adorable, she thought, almost too perfect in that quiet, vulnerable moment. She wiped her hands on a towel absentmindedly, then glanced around the empty bar.

Unable to help herself, she moved from behind the counter and slid into the stool beside you, making sure to be quiet. She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the counter as she studied you.

The soft rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your lashes fluttered just slightly in your sleep, the curve of your lips as they parted ever so slightly—it all made her heart ache in the strangest way.

For a few long minutes, she just sat there, her head tilted slightly, watching you like she was trying to memorize every detail. She thought about waking you up, but part of her didn’t want to. You looked too peaceful, and honestly, she liked having this moment to herself.

Vi let out a soft breath, her lips curving into a small smile.

“Pretty,” she murmured under her breath, the words barely audible even to herself.

When finals week ended, you should’ve felt relief.

You’d survived the late nights, the endless notes, the last-minute cramming. But as you walked back to your apartment after your last exam, all you could feel was a gnawing worry sitting heavy in your chest.

Without exams to study for, without needing the quiet escape of the bar in the mornings, what excuse would you have to see Vi now?

Could you just… show up?

Vi had told you plenty of times that you were welcome there whenever. But it felt different now, like you were losing the one solid reason you had to sit in that quiet space while Vi worked behind the bar.

The thought made you slow your steps, your bag of textbooks feeling heavier than it had all week.

You’d fallen into a rhythm with her—those soft, peaceful mornings where she’d make you coffee without asking, tease you gently when you got too absorbed in your books, and being in her presence made you feel more grounded than you’d ever been.

Now that the routine was gone, you weren’t sure where that left you.

You tossed your bag onto your bed and flopped down beside it, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe I’ll still go to the bar tomorrow morning, you thought, trying to reassure yourself. But doubt crept in immediately. Would she think it was strange if you kept coming back without a reason? Would it seem like you were lingering too much, too long?

You rolled over, burying your face in the pillow as the worry churned in your mind. You couldn’t deny how much you liked being around her—how much you liked… well, her. The idea of not seeing her felt almost unbearable.

With a groan, you sat up and pulled your phone from your pocket. You stared at the screen, thumb hovering over Vi’s contact name.

You’d only messaged a few times before—mostly her checking in, asking if you’d made it back to your apartment safely. The thought of starting a conversation now made your stomach twist nervously.

But you wanted to see her. Needed to, even.

You tapped out a message and then erased it.

Then another.

Then erased that too.

What were you supposed to say? Hey, finals are over, but can I still come to the bar and stare at you for hours like a hopeless idiot? Stupid.

Finally, you set your phone down with a sigh, running your hands through your hair. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe she was thinking about you too, wondering if she’d still get to see you now that finals week was done.

But for a while, you stayed away.

Not because you didn’t want to go back—you wanted to more than anything—but the thought of walking into that bar now made your chest tighten with nerves.

The thought embarrassed you, enough that you buried yourself in other things—laundry, tidying your dorm, even a quick grocery run you didn’t really need. Anything to avoid confronting the growing ache in your chest that whispered how much you missed her already.

You told yourself you’d go tomorrow. Then tomorrow came, and you put it off again.

But those days dragged.

The emptiness of your mornings felt heavier than you expected, and the thought of Vi kept slipping into your mind no matter how hard you tried to focus on anything else.

Here, it felt hollow, like something was missing. And you knew exactly what it was.

By the second night, you were pacing your room, staring at your phone every few minutes, wondering if you should just message her. You groaned at yourself, flopping onto your bed and tossing your phone to the side.

It was ridiculous. You wanted to see her. You liked seeing her. So why was it so hard to just show up?

It was the knock on your door that snapped you out of your restless thoughts. You opened it to find Maddie standing there, already halfway dressed up, her hair curled and makeup done. She grinned at you, that mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Get dressed,” she said without preamble. “We’re celebrating. We deserve to let loose a little.”

You hesitated for half a second, your mind immediately jumping to Vi and that bar. “Where exactly are we going?”

Maddie smirked. “The Last Drop, obviously.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to play it cool, shrugging like you didn’t care either way. “Oh, back there again?”

“Hell yeah,” she said, already pushing her way into your dorm. “C’mon, don’t make me drag you. Get dressed. No excuses.”

For the first time in two days, you felt a rush of anticipation—nerves, yes, but excitement too. You couldn’t deny it anymore. You wanted to see Vi.

And maybe going with Maddie and the others would make it easier. Less pressure, less obvious that you were showing up just to see her.

So you jumped at the opportunity, rifling through your closet while Maddie lounged on your bed, offering unhelpful commentary about your choices. Eventually, you settled on something nice—a pretty dress, stockings, a coat to match.

“You clean up well,” Maddie teased as you slipped on your shoes.

You flushed, ignoring her as you grabbed your bag and jacket. It was cold outside, but you’d still made an effort—a bit of mascara, a touch of lipstick, enough to feel put-together.

But as you walked toward the bar, the nerves came creeping back.

The neon sign of the bar glowed in the distance, and your chest tightened as you stepped closer. The thought of seeing Vi again made your heart race, but you shoved the nerves down.

As soon as you stepped through the door of the bar, you could feel the atmosphere shift. It was quieter tonight, but still filled with the familiar hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the low buzz of the jukebox in the corner.

Your eyes automatically darted to the bar, hoping—no, praying—that you might catch sight of her.

And then Maddie’s voice broke through your thoughts, loud and unmistakable.

“Hey, over here!”

You turned to see her waving enthusiastically at a booth toward the back of the bar. A few of her friends were already there, but what caught your attention wasn’t a group. It was the other two people sitting at the table, one of them leaning back with a casual air, a drink in hand, the other staring at you like they were expecting you.

You froze for a moment, your heart sinking. Your gaze flickered between Maddie and the table, noticing her bright, mischievous smile. She’d set you up.

You forced a smile, suddenly feeling out of place. “Uh, Maddie…?”

Your stomach dropped. A double date?

“This is Chris,” she interrupted, pointing at the guy sitting next to you. He smiled widely, practically leaning over the table as he extended his hand.

You hesitated for a moment, still processing the situation. “Uh… hi.”

“We thought you two would hit it off,” Maddie added, as though she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on you.

“Yeah, you know, I take Professor Talis’ class, right?” Chris said, his voice a little too eager. “We’ve had a couple of group discussions before.”

You offered a polite smile, not quite sure what to make of him. You weren’t even sure how to respond to the whole situation.

Was this supposed to be a date? You’d come to the bar to see Vi—not this.

You glanced around, your eyes scanning the familiar faces behind the bar, hoping to see her. And there, at the counter, you finally spotted her.

Vi.

Chris kept talking, his voice a constant buzz in the background as you tried to nod politely, throwing in an occasional “mhm” or “yeah” just to keep the conversation moving.

But your attention wasn’t on him. It wasn’t on anything other than Vi.

You saw her again, and this time, it wasn’t a subtle glance. Vi had noticed you, her gaze locking onto you from across the room. Her eyes moved briefly over your face, taking you in, before they shifted downward—her gaze narrowing slightly as she looked at Chris, who was still talking to you like everything was normal.

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw her brow furrow, just enough to let you know she was confused.

There was something in the way she looked at you, something almost possessive, like she couldn’t quite figure out what was going on but she knew for a fact that she didn’t like it. She stood still for a moment, fingers wrapped around the edge a glass as she studied you.

For a second, you wondered if it was just your imagination, but then it clicked. Vi was jealous.

You hadn’t noticed before, but now you saw the little tension in her posture, the way her lips pressed together just slightly, the way her gaze flicked back to you every time he leaned in a little too close.

Chris, oblivious to well… everything, kept talking, his voice rising a little as he continued to try and make small talk.

You had no idea what he’d said because all you could hear was the beat of your heart in your ears, and the undeniable pull of Vi’s gaze on you. It was like she was silently challenging you, wanting to see what you’d do.

You glanced back over to Vi, who was still watching you, but now she was pretending to be busy with something—towels, or glassware, or whatever it was that could distract her from the situation.

You saw her glance down at her phone for a second, and you could almost feel her trying to decide whether or not to come over, to approach you, to do something to get your attention.

But instead of doing that, she lingered behind the bar, still looking at you—her expression unreadable now. And as much as you tried to focus on the conversation in front of you, your mind kept drifting back to her. You didn’t care about him anymore. You didn’t care about anything except the way Vi looked at you just now.

Your eyes slid back to Vi, and this time, you didn’t look away. You didn’t try to hide how you felt.

On the other side of the room, Vi’s eyes were locked on you, even though she tried to focus on the tasks in front of her.

She couldn’t help herself, a sense of possessiveness building in her chest. She wondered if you had dressed up like that for him. The guy you’d been sitting with, the one talking a mile a minute, clearly trying to impress you.

Vi’s stomach twisted, and she found herself gripping the counter a little too tightly as she watched you.

God, you looked so good. Vi’s chest tightened at the thought. She tried to focus on cleaning the counter in front of her, but the image of you with him—of you dressed up for him—kept invading her mind.

She wanted it to be her you were dressed up for. She wanted it to be her who got your attention, who you couldn’t stop thinking about.

She couldn’t do this.

She had to look away, had to force herself to breathe, because it was all getting too much.

With a frustrated sigh, Vi wiped her hands on a towel and excused herself, slipping through the back of the bar and into the staff area. She didn’t care if anyone noticed. She just had to get out of there.

She slammed the door behind her, pressing her back against it as she took a deep breath. Her heart was racing, and her mind was spinning. She had no idea what this was, what you were doing to her.

But the thought of you with someone else, the thought of you not being hers, made her ache in a way she wasn’t ready for.

She rubbed her face with both hands, trying to shake the frustration from her body. She tried to steady herself, taking in a few deep breaths as she stared at the floor. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way. She wasn’t supposed to be jealous.

But she wanted you.

And the more she thought about it, the clearer it became.

Vi’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the knock on the staff room door.

She’d half expected it to be Mylo, probably ready to give her a hard time for disappearing off the floor. He always seemed to have a knack for knowing when she was brooding in the back, and she was sure he’d have something to say about it.

But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Mylo.

It was you.

You stood there in the doorway, hesitant, but with that soft look on your face. You looked so damn good up close like this—like you had stepped out of a dream. Vi’s chest tightened, and she swallowed hard.

You looked at her for a moment, unsure of what to say, and then, in a voice that was soft, you say, “I thought… I thought you might be back here.”

She stood still for a second, just staring at you, unsure of how to handle the fact that you had found her.

“Uh, sorry if I—” You paused, glancing down at your shoes like you weren’t sure how to proceed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to, I don’t know, check in.”

“You’re not interrupting. I just—“ Vi stepped back to let you in, closing the door behind you. “—needed to take a break.”

She leaned against the door, keeping her distance, unsure if you’d notice how much she was trying to keep her guard up.

The silence stretched between you two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… intimate in its own way.

You were quiet too, glancing around the small room, but eventually, your eyes fell to her again. Vi noticed the way your gaze lingered on her, and she couldn’t help but feel the heat rise to her face.

Her breath caught in her throat for a second, but she quickly brushed it off, trying to focus on the conversation, trying not to get lost in the way you looked at her.

“You didn’t come back… when your tests were over…” Vi’s voice dropped quieter, a little hesitant, like she wasn’t sure how to ask the question.

She hadn’t seen you in a while, and it made her question everything.

The words hung between you, and Vi shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering away for a moment, focusing on something in the corner of the room.

She didn’t want to look too eager, too desperate. But the truth was, she had been thinking about you. Every minute of the day. And when she didn’t see you, when she didn’t hear from you, it made her feel like maybe she wasn’t as important to you as she had thought.

She didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but the words had slipped out. Vi cleared her throat, turning back to you.

“I thought… I thought maybe I’d see you again, but… you didn’t come back.” Her voice softened again.

Did you want to come back? Had she somehow messed things up by letting herself feel this much for you? Vi couldn’t keep the questions from creeping into her mind, even though she tried to push them away.

“You didn’t even text,” she said quietly, her voice softer now, almost a whisper.

You blinked, surprised by the sharpness in her voice, the way it cut through the silence that had been so comfortable just a moment ago. You could see it in her eyes—something in the way she said that, something fragile.

It made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t meant to distance yourself from her. You just… didn’t know what to say.

“I… I didn’t mean to disappear,” you said quietly, your voice soft and unsure. You shifted your weight, glancing down at your feet, before looking up again. “It’s just, I was nervous about coming back without having a solid reason to, and I thought maybe, you know…”

Vi’s gaze softened, the intensity in her eyes giving way to something more tender. She tilted her head slightly, studying you.

“Nervous?” she repeated quietly, as if testing the word. Her brow furrowed slightly. “About what?”

You swallowed, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress, trying to find the right words. It felt strange, admitting it aloud, but with Vi in the room with you, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“About… you,” you said, the confession slipping out before you could stop it. “About all of this… about seeing you again, about how I feel when I’m around you… I didn’t want to mess it up.”

Vi’s heart skipped a beat at your words. Her breath caught for a fraction of a second.

“It’s just…” she started again, her voice a little rough. “I missed seeing you. That’s all.”

Her gaze shifted to the floor for a moment, a faint flush creeping up her neck. She wasn’t used to admitting this kind of thing aloud either, not even to herself. But there it was, spilling out between you two like something she couldn’t stop.

You felt your heart tug at the honesty in her voice, the way it made you feel like maybe you hadn’t been the only one thinking about this.

“I missed you, too.”

And for the first time tonight, Vi finally smiled.

You couldn’t help but tease her, a small smirk curling at the corners of your lips as you said, “I was waiting for you to text me, too, you know.”

The words felt bold, but you couldn’t hide the nervous excitement bubbling up inside of you.

Vi dropped her head and let out a breathy chuckle. The jealousy, the frustration, everything she’d been feeling earlier—it seemed to vanish completely.

She leaned back against the door, her eyes never leaving yours, full of something far gentler now—something you hadn’t seen before, or at least not like this.

“Can you come here?” she asked, her voice soft, almost like a whisper, but there was something in it that made the air in the room thick.

You hesitated for just a moment, heart pounding in your chest, but you couldn’t resist. Slowly, you walked over to her, your movements measured, though a nervous excitement fluttered in your stomach.

Vi’s eyes never left you as you approached. She watched the way your dress moved with each step, the way your body shifted as you walked toward her, and it drove her absolutely wild. She couldn’t help but let her eyes linger, taking in the sight of you, the way the fabric clung to your curves.

By the time you were close enough, Vi had already moved. She leaned against the door, her hands coming up to gently but firmly grip your hips, pulling you in closer. You felt the heat of her touch spread through you, her hands on your hips guiding you so that you were now flat against her chest, your bodies pressed together.

You couldn’t stop the breath that caught in your throat, the feel of her hands on you sending a wave of heat rushing through your body.

You could feel the rhythm of her breathing, the slight hitch in it when you finally stood there, so close. Her gaze flickered down to the dress you were wearing, and you could feel the tension in her fingers as she lightly traced the hem of it, playing with the fabric as though she couldn’t quite get enough of it.

“I like this,” Vi’s voice was quiet, almost a murmur, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s pretty.”

You didn’t say anything at first, instead simply meeting her gaze, your pulse quickening under her touch. The way she looked at you now, hungry and dazed, made your stomach flip in the best way.

“I… I wasn’t sure if it was too much,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling a little shy but also emboldened by the way Vi was looking at you.

Vi smiled softly, her lips curving up as she leaned in just a little bit closer, her breath warming your cheek.

“It’s perfect,” she said, voice low, as if the words were meant only for you. “You look perfect.”

Her eyes darkened just a fraction, the playful smirk on her lips transforming into something more primal, more feral. Her hands on your hips tightened just a little, urging you closer, as if she couldn’t get close enough.

Vi’s gaze was heavy, her pupils dark and blown wide as they locked onto your face, moving slowly down to your lips. Her stare was intense—shameless, even—and it made your breath hitch.

Her grip on your hips tightened, fingers pressing firmly into your sides. The fabric of your dress bunched up under her hands, her thumbs brushing against the soft material as though she couldn’t help herself. Her touch was slow, almost like she was trying to memorize the feeling of you under her palms.

You could feel the heat radiating off her, the space between you almost nonexistent now. The way her gaze lingered on your lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt rooted to the spot, as if moving would break whatever spell had settled over the two of you.

Vi swallowed hard, her Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, her hands twitching against your hips as though resisting the urge to pull you impossibly closer. Her chest rose and fell in time with her quickened breathing, and you could feel her struggle to keep herself in check, though the way she stared at you made it clear how difficult that was.

Instead, her fingers tightened again, the slight pull of your dress drawing you even closer to her. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were on the verge of saying something, but her gaze kept flickering back to your mouth, and you wondered if words were even necessary.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but before you could form a single word, Vi moved. Her grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your dress as she leaned in and claimed your lips with her own.

Her mouth was warm, soft but insistent, and it stole the breath right out of your lungs. You froze for half a second, startled, but then everything in you melted. Your hands found their way to her shoulders, gripping her lightly as she pulled you even closer, pressing your body flush against hers.

There was a kind of hunger in the way her lips moved against yours, but it was careful too—like she wanted to take her time and savor every second of it. Her fingers slid up your sides slightly, still gripping your dress, her thumbs brushing over your waist as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss.

When she finally pulled back, just barely, her forehead rested against yours. She was breathless, her eyes still heavy-lidded as they locked onto yours. Her hands were still on your hips, holding you against her.

Vi looks at you, a wide, soft smile spreading across her face as she leans her head back against the door, her hands moving upward, tracing the curve of your back slowly. Her fingertips brush against the zipper of your dress, playing with it absentmindedly as she lets out a breathy laugh.

“I think I’m doing this out of order…” she murmurs.

Your brows knit together slightly, still dazed from the kiss.

“Out of order?” you echo, your voice quieter than you intended.

Vi nods, her gaze drifting back to your lips as if they we drawn there magnetically.

Her smile turns almost sheepish, but the heat in her eyes doesn’t fade as she mutters quietly, “Yeah… ‘was supposed to ask you out on a date first.”

The words make your stomach flip, and before you can respond, she keeps going. Her voice softens, a little lower, as if she’s painting a picture just for you.

“I would’ve asked you where you’d like to eat… something casual, nothing too fancy. Then I’d pick you up, you’d wear something pretty for me, and I’ll take you somewhere nice. Not here,” she says with a small grin, “somewhere quiet, somewhere where I could actually talk to you without interruptions.”

Her hands are wandering now, sliding slowly down your sides, then up again, the warmth of her palms seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. One of her thumbs brushes against your ribcage, close to the underside of your breasts, her touch gentle but enough to make your breath hitch.

You’re barely holding onto her words as her hands move, but she keeps talking, her tone calm and almost hypnotic.

“Maybe, take you to this little Italian place I like. Not too crowded, but the food’s incredible. Candlelit, y’know? Not to be cheesy, but I think you’d like it.”

Her hands drift down again, her thumbs skimming along the curve of your hips as she keeps her voice low and steady.

“We’d get some wine—unless you’d rather have water, of course,” she teases softly, her lips twitching into a smirk, “and then we’d just… talk. No distractions, no noise, just you and me.”

Her fingers glide back up, tracing the line of your spine.

“After dinner, maybe a walk somewhere. I dunno, a park, the waterfront… wherever you’d want to go. Just somewhere I could hold your hand and maybe steal a kiss, if you let me.”

You try to focus on her voice, but her hands are relentless, mapping your body like she’s trying to memorize every inch. Your breath catches when her fingers tease the short sleeve of your dress, her thumb brushing your shoulder.

“Then,” she continues, her eyes flicking to yours, “I’d walk you home, make sure you got inside safe. And maybe… maybe if I was lucky, you’d ask me to come in and... Well, I don’t wanna spoil it.”

Her lips curve into a lazy smile, her fingers halting just above the small of your back.

“That’s how it was supposed to go,” she says softly, her voice dripping with affection as her gaze locks onto yours.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your body warm and your mind spinning. It’s impossible to think straight when her hands are on you, her voice so low and inviting.

“So why haven’t you?” you ask softly, your voice almost a whisper.

You lean in closer, and Vi instinctively follows your lips, her breath brushing against them.

“Hm?” she hums, clearly distracted, her gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“—asked me out yet?” you finish, your voice trembling slightly, the boldness of the question surprising even you.

Vi freezes for a fraction of a second, then her lips tug into a small, almost bashful smile. Without saying a word, she leans in and kisses you again, soft and lingering, her lips fitting against yours. After a moment, her mouth leaves yours only to trail a path down to your jaw, her lips brushing against your skin.

She pauses at the curve of your neck, pressing a slow kiss there before muttering against your skin, her voice husky and low, “You make me nervous, too.”

You feel her lips curl into a smile against your neck, like she knows exactly what kind of effect she’s having on you. Her hands tighten slightly on your waist, holding you as if she can feel the way your legs are threatening to give out beneath you.

You tilt your head slightly, giving her better access without even thinking, and she takes full advantage of it. Her breath is warm against your skin, and every kiss feels like it’s melting away whatever distance was left between the two of you.

“Vi…” you murmur, unsure if you’re trying to stop her or encourage her to keep going.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her lips slightly parted, her cheeks faintly flushed.

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice quiet.

You don’t have an answer, not one you can articulate anyway. All you can do is stare at her, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure she can hear it. And then she smiles, a crooked, endearing smile that makes your stomach flutter in the best way.

Vi’s lips return to your neck, her breath warm against your skin. She lingers there, her mouth pressing gentle kisses to the curve of your throat, her hands holding your waist firmly as if to steady you. You feel her lips part, the faintest scrape of her teeth against your skin sending a shiver down your spine.

“V-Vi…” you whimper again, but your voice lacks conviction, too soft, too dazed.

And good god, her name sounds so good on your lips.

She hums in response, low and teasing, as her lips close over the sensitive spot she’s found, sucking lightly. The sensation sends a shiver through your entire body, and you grip the fabric of her shirt without thinking, your nails pressing into her shoulders as she kisses your neck.

Her hands slide up your back, keeping you close, and her lips move to a new spot, determined to leave another mark. You know you should stop her, that you’ll be left with marks you can’t easily explain, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Her tongue traces over the freshly made hickey, soothing it before she moves lower, her lips brushing against your collarbone now. You feel lightheaded, completely consumed by her—her touch, her warmth, her scent, her hands, her lips.

“Vi…” you try again, but it comes out weaker than before, more like a plea than a protest.

She chuckles softly against your skin, the sound low and rumbling, and you feel her smile.

“Too much?” she asks playfully, though she doesn’t pull away.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Instead, your fingers tighten against her shirt, and she takes it as permission to continue. Her lips find the hollow of your throat, her teeth grazing against the delicate skin there before she sucks lightly, her hands roaming lower to rest just above your hips.

By the time she finally pulls back, you’re breathless, your head spinning. Her lips are slightly swollen, her smile smug but tender as she looks at you.

“You’re gonna hate me when you see those,” she says softly, her fingers brushing lightly against your neck where her lips had been.

As soon as Vi pulls back, her lips curling into that smug, tender smile, you don’t think. You act. You grab her collar, pulling her down as you surge up to meet her lips, kissing her hard and desperate, pouring every pent-up feeling into that kiss.

Vi grunts softly against your mouth, low and rough, and it sends a thrill down your spine. Her hands, still gripping your waist, tighten possessively to keep you exactly where you are. You feel her smile against your lips for a moment before she kisses you back just as fiercely, her teeth grazing your bottom lip, her tongue brushing against yours in a way that makes your knees weak.

It’s almost overwhelming, the way she kisses you—like she’s been starving for you.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to push herself off the door, her hands sliding to your hips as she turns you around. Before you can even process what’s happening, your back hits the door with a soft slam, the wood rattling slightly behind you. Vi’s hands cage you in, one hand by the side of your head and the other on your hip, keeping you in place as she crashes her lips back onto yours.

She kisses you like she’s claiming you, like she wants to make it crystal clear who you belong to. Her heart swells with pride as she imagines that guy you were with outside, seeing all those little bruises she left on your neck for everyone to see.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Vi murmurs against your lips, her voice hoarse and ragged, before diving back in.

Her fingers slide underneath the hem of your dress, tracing the soft curve of your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. The moment her touch makes contact with the bare skin of your thighs, you gasp, the feeling of her fingers inching higher and higher, making your pulse race.

You can feel the way she presses in, her grip firm, as if she’s marking territory, staking her claim. She wanted you so bad. But she’s careful with you, and you can feel how she’s holding herself back just a little, the restraint making you ache for more. You know she wants you just as much as you want her—and you can’t help but be drawn deeper into her orbit.

Her hands reach up under your dress, the pads of her fingers tracing your lace panties and Vi shudders at the feeling. She can feel the dampness and warmth of you already and fuck, it drives her absolutely wild.

“You’re already wet, sweetheart,” she says, smiling against your neck proudly.

“V-Vi… Here?” You gasp into her ear.

She nods eagerly, eyes dazed as she looks at you, “Mhm.”

“B-But, someone might hear—“

“Then, you’ll keep quiet for me, won’t you, princess?” She purrs into your ear. “Can you do that?”

Your breath hitches at the way she says it, making your knees feel weak. You feel her smile against your skin, a sly curve of her lips that tells you she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

“Hmm?” she hums, her thumb rubbing the center of your panties in soft circles, testing your reaction. She tilts her head slightly to catch your gaze. “Or are you gonna make it hard for me?”

You swallow, your heart pounding as you meet her gaze, your lips parting to answer, but nothing comes out. Instead, you nod, your breath hitching as her thumb presses your clit over the fabric of your panties.

She smiles, one hand coming up to fondle your breast. You whimper when she squeezes softly, enjoying the soft fullness in the palm of her hands.

“Tell me.”

You get lost in her stare, blue eyes telling you how much she wants you.

“I-I want you, Violet.”

Without wasting another second, Vi slips the hand that was under your dress and into your panties, her fingers immediately coming in contact with your soaking cunt, your folds slick with want. She hums in approval, and all you can do is nod again, biting down on your lip to keep from making a sound. Vi notices, her smirk widening as she leans in again, her lips trailing down your neck in a series of soft kisses.

“That’s my girl,” she whispers, her voice vibrating against your skin, making it impossible to focus on anything but her.

And when she slips a finger inside, you drop your head to her shoulder, trying to muffle your moan. Her finger immediately curls against your tight walls and you can feel your knees buckle as she thrusts her finger into you.

“Oh, V-Vi—“

She lifts her head up and kisses you on the lips, her tongue slipping inside with ease. She swallowed your moans as she whimpered into your mouth, her body trapping you between her and the door.

“You look… so good,” she murmured, voice hushed, her lips grazing your skin as she spoke. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

But then she adds another finger without any warning, her pace speeding up as you leaned your head back against the door behind you. You let your jaw fall when you feel her thrusting, and thrusting, and thrusting, and curling right into that spongy spot inside your pussy that made you moan.

“N-nh … A-Ah, fuck!” You gasp, unable to control your voice as she speeds up her fingers.

“Shh, shhhh, baby,” she murmurs against your lips, tilting her head as she watches you fall apart on her fingers. “Does it feel good, princess?”

“M-Mhm—ah—“

“Yeah?” You feel Vi smile on your lips.

Nodding your head, you whine, feeling your body grow weak the longer she fucked you.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs against your neck, her voice low and husky.

Her fingers move quickly as they piston in and out of you, a soft squelching noise filling the empty room, teasing and testing your boundaries, gauging every reaction you give her. You could hear the low thrum of the music outside, playing in the lounge and in the bar, but you can barely begin to think about anything else other than the way Vi was making you feel, the way you were coming undone right in front of her.

“Look at you,” she whispers, her voice thick with adoration, “so pretty like this.”

Her free hand, the one that was fondling your tits, moves from your waist to cradle your face, her thumb brushing over your cheek as she leans in to kiss you deeply.

And holy fuck, you could feel it—how close you suddenly were.

You were sure Vi could feel it, too. She groans against your neck, head falling to your shoulder as she breathes you in, feeling your tight walls clench around her digits. You close. You were so damn close—

Then, Vi’s ears twitch—the sound of footsteps coming closer from behind the door.

She freezes. But only for a brief moment when she hears Mylo’s voice through the door, her body going taut as she glances at you. Your eyes widen, but Vi doesn’t pull away. Instead, a sly grin spreads across her face, her pupils blown wide as she looks at you.

Her lips find your ear, her words sending a shiver down your spine. “Stay quiet for me, yeah?”

And instead of stopping, her lips curl into a mischievous grin. Her fingers don’t falter, if anything she thrusted them faster into your wet pussy, her other hand moving quickly to cover your mouth as a quiet whimper escapes you, muffling all your delicious moans. You whimper against her mouth, eyes rolling back, not sure when you were going to cum. You felt so close—so fucking close.

“Shhh,” she whispers, her mouth brushing against your ear, her voice low and dripping with amusement.

From the other side of the door, Mylo’s voice comes again, confused but unconcerned. “Vi? You in there? You good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she calls out, her voice steady, calm, like nothing at all is happening. “Just… needed a minute.”

You feel your face heat up as you struggle to stay composed, muffled against her palm, your eyes wide and pleading. But Vi’s gaze is locked onto yours as she continues to fuck you.

“Well, can you hurry up? The bar’s getting packed,” he says.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll be there!” Vi sighs as your legs begin to tremble.

Mylo grumbles something you can’t understand, footsteps retreating as he wanders off.

As soon as the sound of his steps fades, Vi lets out a low chuckle, finally removing her hand from your mouth. Her thumb brushes against your lips as she leans in close, her breath fanning your cheek. You were right around her fingers, and Vi couldn’t help but groan and press her thumb against your clit.

You jolt in her arms as you hold on to her shoulders for some leverage, trying to keep yourself steady, even though it felt like an impossible task. Vi groans when you clench, your soaking wet pussy dripping down your thighs, dripping onto her hand as she fingers you.

Vi could feel it on her fingers, slick and tight. How close you were—fuck fuck fuck. She moved faster and all you could do was hold on and cry into her shoulder.

“V-Vi, I—close—I’m—“

“You wanna cum? Yeah?” Vi whispers, using her body to press you against the door, fingers thrusting harder, deeper and faster. “Cum for me, baby.”

Then it crashes. Vi feels your body tense under her touch, your breaths coming faster as you gush around her fingers. She can see it in the way your hands clutch at her shoulders, the way your head tilts back slightly, lips parting as a soft, desperate mewl escapes your mouth.

But before that sound can grow louder, Vi’s lips crash onto yours, swallowing the moan that tries to escape. She doesn’t stop her fingers until you’re trembling in her arms. You melt against her, your body trembling, leaving you breathless and clinging to her, her strong arms and broad shoulders hold you up. Vi doesn’t pull back, keeping her lips on yours until she’s sure you’re done riding it out.

When she finally does break the kiss, her lips linger close, her forehead resting gently against yours. You’re panting softly, and she’s just smiling.

“Fuck,” she murmurs and you can feel her smirk against your skin as she presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Vi’s hand slows to a stop, pulling her fingers out of you slowly, her palm pressing flat against your thigh as she watches you. Her gaze is stuck on you, like she couldn’t believe what she’s seeing. The way your body trembles against hers, the soft flush of your cheeks, the way your lips part as you gasp for breath—it’s all too much and somehow not enough at the same time.

Her chest tightens as she leans her head forward against your shoulder. Vi wasn’t prepared for this—wasn’t prepared for you. And the thought crashes into her like a freight train: she’s falling hard. Maybe she already has.

She lifts her head up and he thumb absentmindedly brushes against your skin as you catch your breath. You’re leaning against her now, your head resting lightly on her shoulder, still dazed and glowing after your orgasm. Vi doesn’t even realize she’s staring, her lips slightly parted, her pupils blown wide with love.

She blurts it out without even thinking.

“So… dinner… Friday?”

Her ears burn as she watches for your reaction.

“I mean—” she starts, her voice faltering, unsure whether to backtrack or double down.

But when she glances down at you, still pressed against her, all she can do is grin sheepishly.

“You’re seriously asking me out… right now?” you say, lifting an eyebrow at her. Your voice is soft and teasing, but still a little breathless from everything that just happened.

Vi’s lips curl into a crooked grin, and she lets out a laugh that’s equal parts nervous and amused. She’s holding you up slightly, biceps flexing under her shirt, her hands resting lightly on your hips, her thumbs grazing the fabric of your dress like she’s afraid to let go.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice low but steady, her grin widening. “Is that a problem?”

You shake your head, narrowing your eyes at her like you’re trying to figure her out. You dart your eyes downward, glancing down at where her hands are on you, feeling the warmth of her touch through the thin fabric.

“Stupid,” you mutter under your breath.

You stare at Vi.

“Friday?” you ask softly, tilting your head slightly, your voice teasing her.

Vi nods again, more earnestly this time, her lips parting like she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead, she just looks at you, like she’s this big, lovesick puppy. And, if she had a tail right now, you’re pretty sure it would be wagging hard enough to knock over a chair or two.

“Friday,” she repeats.

She shifts on her feet slightly, her hands still resting on your hips, thumbs brushing tiny circles against the fabric of your dress. You bite back a laugh, your smile growing as you watch her, all nervous and excited.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi’s entire face lights up, her crooked grin spreading so wide it makes her dimples appear.

“Yeah?” she says softly, and you nod, still smiling.

And then she stops, her eyes flickering to your lips one last time, but she doesn’t move any closer.

She’s waiting—patiently, sweetly—for you to close the gap if you want to. And it makes your heart ache a little because she’s trying so hard to hold herself back for your sake, even when you can tell it’s killing her.

But as soon as your eyes day to her lips and smile softly, her restraint crumbles. She leans in and kisses you, her hands tightening slightly on your hips. Vi’s heart feels like it’s about to burst out of her chest. She likes you—so much it scares her, so much she doesn’t know what to do with herself right now except kiss you harder.

You kiss her back with just as much intensity, your fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt to pull her even closer. You can feel the slight tremor in her hands where they grip your hips, sliding up slowly to your waist. She tastes like peppermint gum and something faintly sweet, and the way she kisses you makes your heart race so fast you’re surprised she can’t feel it through your chest.

Vi pulls back for just a moment, her forehead resting against yours as she exhales a shaky breath. Her lips are still parted, her eyes half-lidded as she looks at you, and she’s smiling—wide and boyish and so full of joy that it makes your chest tighten.

“I really, really like you.”

You laugh softly, your hand moving up to touch her jaw, your thumb brushing over her cheek where her tattoo is.

“I really, really like you, too,” you tease, your own voice a little shaky from how lightheaded you feel.

Vi grins, her dimples showing, and then she kisses you again, this time slower, softer, like she’s savoring it.

You cant think of anything else but her. The noise from the bar, the memory of whatever brought you here tonight—it’s all drowned out by the feeling of Vi’s lips on yours and the warmth of her hands on your waist.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself stop overthinking.

Vi feels like she’s floating, her chest so full it feels like she might burst. She likes you so much it almost hurts, and the way you kiss her back like you feel the same way makes her head spin. She pulls you just a little closer, her fingers slipping around your waist, and she can’t stop the quiet, breathless laugh that escapes against your lips. You smile into the kiss, your own heart thudding loudly in your chest.

If this is what liking Vi feels like, you think, you don’t ever want it to stop.

ty for reading ! | navigation

[biquid]

This is the wildest twitter arc yet lol

[undercvrfan444]

Summary - Roomie Satoru walks in on you during some uh, intimate time!

WC - 2.5k

AN- Okay wait because if this post gets flagged like my other one i’m going to be so mad. Hopefully yall like roomie Satoru because I love him.

Two weeks have passed since your little episode with Satoru. Naoya was now a thing of the past after reading his rather uh…colorful texts he had left for you! And you were kind of thriving truthfully. 

Everyday life had seemingly gone back to the way it had been before you were sprawled out on your roommates bed, his tongue plunged deeper inside you than anyone else had ever been. So aside from his teasing growing dirtier with each passing day and his occasional “accidental” walk in on you changing or getting in the shower, he was still your same old roommate. 

Earlier this morning Satoru was called into work which left you with much valued and needed alone time thankfully. Now listen, you absolutely loved the silver haired man, but being sexually on edge each time he came around was antagonizing. You were constantly on your toes whenever he was close. A part of you was still embarrassed with the drunken activities you had partaken in, especially knowing there was a video of the whole ordeal. 

With your roommate leaving for a few hours you decided to take this time to just relax. Take a nice shower without worrying about him walking in, make a warm cup of tea to relax the tense muscles, and delve into whatever show you wanted knowing Satoru wouldn’t be in your ear making sly remarks. However, as time passed you grew somewhat bored of the silence. 

One thing led to another and you were scrolling on twitter, a hand lazily between your legs. Clicking on a video that seemed to pique you interest, the girl on screen screeched dramatically and honestly it turned you off more than anything. Swiping out of the video and scrolling a little more you finally get sick of the cheap rehearsed porn on your phone. 

Then, as if a little devil appeared on your shoulder, a thought drifted into place.  

You still had the video Satoru recorded for Naoya. Slowly you opened your photos app, scrolling up a little while your eyes scanned for the little white number indicating where the video was. 

Found it. 

Was it weird that you were watching a video of your own pussy being eaten alive? No. Because you weren't necessarily watching the video to see yourself, but rather to see that messy mop of white hair. To see how his jaw flexed with each passing line of his pretty pink tongue. It was hard not to be pulled in by Satoru, anyone that knew him couldn’t argue with how sex seemed to be emanating from him in everything he did. 

Clicking on the video you were immediately flooded with red hot embarrassment. Your own moans matched the girl who previously annoyed you. Satoru’s chest came into frame for a second before he laid the phone flat on the bed, giving a perfect angle of your weeping pussy and the even wetter man behind you. 

“So pretty baby, can’t believe how good this cunt tastes.” Velvety rich words flow out of the speakers making your core ache. You could feel heat rising to your fingertips and down to your toes, arousal blooming. As time went on, slick seemed to pour out of you as if your pussy remembered the way Satoru took care of her. Moans fell from your lips in breathy huffs followed by the broken syllables of Satoru staining the air. Caught in your own world, you fail to hear the jingle of keys unlocking the front door you roommate insists on being locked. Something about “pretty girls like you are taken advantage of all the time.”

His soothing voice calling out to you informing of his arrival home falling on deaf ears. Heavy footsteps make their way to the start of the hallway before he freezes, ears perking up. 

“Fu~ck! ‘Toru..” Muffled high pitched whimpers bounce off the walls from your room. A tent growing impossibly fast from Satoru cultivating a mental image of what’s going on behind your door. How lucky was he to come home in time to get a glimpse of the perverted things you do behind doors, there was no way he’d pass this up. 

There were many ways for Satoru to go about this. He could either 

A. Interrupt your little party and embarrass you 

or 

B. Let you embarrass yourself. 

He decided to go with B. 

Of course. Who would he be if he didn’t indulge himself in a harmless tease?

So despite his cock aching underneath his uniform, he knew the look on your face would be worth a little discomfort. A small smile plays on Satoru’s lips as he makes his way into the bathroom, turning the shower on and stripping down. If he was going to embarrass you then he’d pull out every weakness he had against you. 

Back in your room, you’d finally reached an orgasm. Legs shaking while your eyes drew back towards your skull with how hard sparks tingled against your bones. Ragged breaths heated the cool air of your room while you regained your composure. Slipping off of your bed and reaching for a pair of shorts you had previously discarded, you finally heard the water running in the bathroom. 

Your eyes widened at the thought of Satoru coming home and possibly hearing you. It takes a few seconds before you conjure enough courage to step into the hall and make your way into the kitchen. 

Attempting to push away the horrifying thoughts of being heard, you open the fridge doors and rummage for something to drink. 

Satoru steps into the kitchen with a slightly damp towel hanging loosely on his shoulders and a pair of black shorts on. He smelt strongly of his soap, delicious herbal musk with hints of saccharine notes. Strands of wet hair curled nicely against his head while his undercut peaked through softly. 

“Oh hey!” 

You jump at his sudden chirp of voice, spinning to see a beautiful grin on his features. Swallowing thickly you move to lean against the island separating you two. “Hey. When did you get home?” 

Internally you wanted to cringe at how stupid you sounded, quite the opposite to Satoru who was beaming so bright you swore you could see light seeping through his pores. “A few minutes ago. Yaga let me leave early after dealing with a couple curses and bratty kids.” 

Nodding along, you take a swig of the cold water you fished from the fridge. The conversation dies as Satoru makes his way behind you, mimicking your earlier actions and finding something to drink. Your heart beat lurched against their confines beneath your ribs so hard it felt as though you might burst.

Before you get the opportunity to turn around, Satoru pressed his chest against your back. His legs finding their way between your own while he slots his chin on your shoulder, lips brushing against the sensitive skin below your ear. His hands press against the fatty part of your hips as they slowly squish into the countertop, hinging so that your face is flush with the cool marble below. 

“S-Satoru?” 

The man pecks gentle kisses down the column of your throat, leaning in with his hips to press his erection against your ass. “Is this what you imagined?”

Quiet whines float up into Satoru’s ears. Your elbows bend softly to keep yourself upright against the island. The air is dizzy between you, Satoru’s strong smell offering a familiar comfort you cling to in the tense moment. 

“What?”

Low rumbles of laughter erupt from behind you. “Don’t play dumb with me baby, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” His lips latch on to a few spots on your neck leaving blooming bruises in their wake. 

Humiliation was all you could feel. Unadulterated humiliation and…arousal. Satoru was so warm pressed against you it was impossible for you not to rut back against him. The thin fabric of your shorts did nothing to block his prying hands. All it took was a tug or two and you felt the clothing item slip down your legs. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” two thick fingers slip against your slit, teasing the already puffy hole. “You sounded so beautiful. The way you said my name would make any man go crazy.” 

Filthy squelch’s echo in the kitchen from where Satoru plays with your gooey folds. His abs flex against your clothed back, the older tshirt doing nothing to deter his advances. Any other time than now you would appreciate how strong your roommate was, all rippling muscles completely at your disposal. From your low lying position on the counter you can’t see any of Satoru’s actions, only feel them. 

Squeezing a clammy hand against your mouth, whatever schoolgirlish whine or moan that threatens to come out is muffled quickly. Sinking a long digit past the swabs of slick dripping down your thighs, Satoru can’t help but push the shirt he’d given you up your waist to expose more of your eager body below. “Why aren’t you speaking baby? You’ve got such a sharp tongue until I’m knuckle deep in your pussy.” 

Shaking your head, you can’t help but push back onto the wall of man behind you. Your pussy is still sensitive from the last orgasm so any touch is amplified. “It’s embarrassing! Just..stop talking.” 

A loud “tch” rings in your ears. “Embarrassing? Awe, how come?” 

Satoru slips another finger past your gummy ring of muscles, scissoring the two digits in a slow deep rhythm that has you leaning forward in an attempt to find a way for his fingers to plunge further within you. 

“Toru please! Don’t start with the teasing like last time. If you’re going to fuck me then do it already!” Your words come out in a shrill breathy whine. To be completely honest you’re not sure if you’d be able to take Satoru’s incessant teasing once more. Here you were, stretched over the kitchen counter while you gushed over your roommate's fingers and all he could do is act like a dickhead! 

Your pleas are music to his ears. 

You feel his touch slip away from your lower body, instead being used to push his own shorts down. Low groans vibrate in your shoulder from where Satoru latches onto the soft skin for an anchor. You might be needier, but Satour was right there with you. Craning your neck to look back, your met with a core achingly intimidating sight. 

He was huge. Both in length and sheer girth. Breaths get stuck in your throat when you feel his cockhead nudging at your clit in rough pumps, the bulbous tip hard against your red puffy lips. You wiggle your hips the best you can in this situation, toes barely skimming the cool wood floor of the kitchen. 

Inch by girthy inch, your pussy is fed with Satoru’s cock. “Oohh fuck baby, I haven’t even put it all in and your already clamping down on me.” Softly he slides his body against yours, leaning down to trail sloppy kisses mixed with nips over the curve of your shoulder. 

A deliciously burning sensation tingles as each thrust of Satoru’s hips pull gasps out of you. You’ve never been this full, ever. Finding a grip on the counter was a struggle. Each relentless slam of Satoru’s hips leave your body jerking forward, dragging your pebbled nipples against the sealed surface. “Feels like y’r gonna tear me apart ‘toru! Sl-ah! Slow down!” 

Satoru’s hips slap against your ass in unforgiving waves. The spongy spot buried deep in your cunt getting abused with each bite from his leaky tip. “Slow down?” Moving one of his hands down between your legs, his fingers latch onto your clit and roll the nub around between the pads of his finger tips. 

“No, I don’t think so baby. Remember that you -ngh-asked me for this.” A shit eating grin forms on Satoru’s perfectly straight teeth. A pack of wild horses could stampede through the kitchen and it still wouldn’t deter Satoru from fucking you silly on his cock. For months, uh uh fuck that, YEARS, this man has minded his manners and let you go about your sad relationships. Now that you were right where he wanted you there was a better chance of hell freezing over than him letting you tap out. 

The longer you struggle to find a grip on the counter, the harder Satoru’s thrust become. Like some pussydrunk teenager he becomes absolutely ruined by the sight of your ass jiggling against him. With each passing moment you can feel an orgasm building ferociously in your belly, that same spot you swear the male behind you fucks into. “Pl-please ‘toru. Not like this.” 

Luckily for you, he knew exactly what you meant. Pulling out of our your fucked out cunt, Satoru pulls you into him for support. Carefully he lifts you up until your back is stuck to the counter and he can wrap your ankles around his waist. “That what you want baby? Hmm?” Stars dance behind your eyes as the slippery feeling of Satoru’s dick realigns itself between your pussylips one more time. Leaning down to kiss you, the older man locks your lips with his in a strangely soft kiss while he spreads your walls apart. 

Lewd squelches erupt between your legs, louder now than before. Your previously shy orgasm is now raging through your muscles before you get a chance to say anything. Stark white blinds you as Satoru swallows whatever sounds arise from your throat, his hands hold your hips down on the marble to keep you in place as he chases a high of his own 

“S’toru! I-” 

“Shh I know baby, m’ right here. Give it to me pretty.” 

Wave after wave of euphoric pleasure crash over the two of you, bodies melded together with the sticky sap like slick from your pussy mixed with sweat. The world falls away around you for the entirety of your come down. Satoru being the only thing keeping you tethered to the world and him wanting nothing short of that role. 

Heavy pants mix together in hot breaths that fan over your chest like a warm blanket. Satoru pulls his achy cock away from the gluey entrapment between your legs causing a small pout to force its way onto your face. He giggles cutely, leaning down to peck a kiss on your damp forehead before searching for both of your clothes. Before he can put your shorts on he takes a rather long look between your legs, a mixture of both yours and his cum leaking down onto the counter; pooling. 

Without another thought Satoru reaches into his shorts pocket to pull his phone out, snapping a picture for safe keeping. “Think the neighbors heard?”

“Shut up and help me get clean. This is so gross I don’t think I can ever eat off the counter again.”

[chingyu1023vick]

Patch 1.113

I finished checking my mods for the latest burglar patch and tagged their status on my Google spreadsheet. The good news is that all custom traits are compatible with the patch. I'll update the rest of the affected mods asap.

Feb 27, 2025 Updates for patch:

Age Up add Preferences V15

Balanced Life {Merged Edition} V22

Blue Fear V6

Introduction Hider / No Autonomy V8

Massage Socials Fix V5

More / Less Skill Boost from Moods V6

No Mopping in Bad Weather/ Outdoors V4

Occult Fanatic Trait V6

Smarter Self-Care V21

Walk Normally V8

Feb 28, 2025 Updates for compatibilities:

UPDATE: Holiday Tradition Custom Preferences V1.1

Minor update for compatibility with my Custom Traits in Club Filter V26

UPDATE: Higher CAS Story Skills V4

Updated to include missing Thanatology Skill from EP17 Life & Death Pack

UPDATE: Life And Death Rebirth Tweaks V1.1

Minor update to fix missing strings for the Chopstick Savvy trait

UPDATE: Lot Traits Turned Challenges V4

Updated to add packages to unlock and turn the Locked Lot Traits from EP03 City Living and EP07 Island Living into freely-use Lot Challenges. Be reminded that some of these originally Locked Lot Traits like Cheap or Pricey have no impact on gameplay despite their description.

🆙UPDATE: Custom Traits in Club Filter V26 (Big Update)

Add-on for World Resident club requirement. This auto assigns hidden traits to tell which world a Sim is currently living in, and you can select them in the trait section of the club requirement.

Added traits & preferences of the upcoming Businesses & Hobbies pack.

Updated to include missing traits from previous packs, kits, and patches, including Life & Death, High School Years, and more.

Added my holiday tradition custom preferences and my next traits pack

I now put "Plant Sim" in the new occult section added in patch 1.113.

Adjusted wealth requirements for each club filter option.

Fixed a few llama icons for EA hidden gender & sexuality traits.

I will revisit this mod to update custom traits from other creators after fixing my other broken mods. Please tell me if any trait is missed in the filter!

🔆 Changelog in February 2025 HERE

🔹 Links to ALL My Traits, Game Mods, and CCs

🔹List of IDs for creators who want to refer my traits to their own mods 

🔹 List of Chingyu’s CC Traits Name and Descriptions for mod users

🔹 Check Mod Status after a patch & Compatibilities

👁‍🗨 Learn how to install a mod & FAQs

👁‍🗨 Terms of Use

👁‍🗨 Ask Questions/ Suggestions/ Bug Reports on Discord

▶ I need to see a screenshot or LE report to help you figure out what’s wrong!

👁‍🗨 Download on my Patreon

👁‍🗨 Follow me on Twitter

[solxamber]

Shark Tanks and Shady Deals - Azul Ashengrotto x reader

After narrowly dodging a one-way trip to the sharks, you've hit rock bottom, career-wise. Enter Azul: your friendly (totally-not-shady) talent manager. In a moment of desperation, you sign with him. Wait, he's actually really good at this. Like, too good at this. Maybe the near-shark experience was just the universe’s weird way of setting you up?

w.c: 10.5k

You were doomed. Utterly and completely screwed.

The day had started out as usual—you’d shown up for filming in your usual state of caffeine-induced autopilot. But the moment you stepped on set, you’d been hit with the news that the director wanted a small change to your next scene.

A small change, they’d said.

You weren’t sure how dangling over a pool filled with actual sharks for the sake of some cheap thrills counted as a "small" change.

Seriously. Actual sharks. And worse? The scene involved you trying to “seduce” the lead while balancing on a wobbly plank that dangled above the tank. Who wrote this script? Why was this being greenlit? This had to be breaking a law.

“You’ll be perfectly safe!” the director had assured you with that suspicious smile that directors give when they’re one day away from having a lawsuit slapped on their desk. “We’ve had the sharks… sedated. Probably. No need to worry!”

"Probably" wasn't exactly reassuring.

And that’s how you’d found yourself standing in front of your director and refusing. Actually refusing. You weren’t about to let yourself become the thumbnail for the next YouTube video essay about ‘Actors Who Died Stupidly for Garbage Art.’

“C’mon, what are you, chicken?” your co-star had sneered, all smug as if he wasn’t terrified himself. He’d been gripping the railing with white knuckles while trying to act all cool about it.

“Listen, if I wanted to end my career, or my life, I’d start a Twitter feud with a K-pop group,” you had deadpanned, crossing your arms. “I’m not doing it.”

What followed was a spectacular implosion. You could still see the disbelief on the director’s face, as if the concept of an actor saying “no” was alien to him. Your refusal? It kicked off a chain reaction: you were labeled “difficult,” your role was cut, and before you knew it, your agency had dropped you faster than you could say "shark-infested waters."

Now, you were sitting on a park bench, staring at the crumbs of your half-eaten sandwich, contemplating the life choices that had led you to being unemployed and blacklisted from any decent drama in the country. The sharks might’ve been preferable to this.

You sighed. Maybe you’d start a new life. Move to a remote island and become a hermit. Or maybe a fisherman! Fishermen didn’t have to deal with directors, right?

“Excuse me,” a smooth voice cut into your thoughts, breaking you out of your pity party. You blinked up, squinting into the sunlight, only to find yourself staring at a man who was entirely too polished for this park. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his silver-rimmed glasses reflecting the afternoon light in just the right way that you almost thought he was some kind of model.

“Sorry to disturb you,” he said, flashing a well-practiced smile. “But you seemed rather... troubled.”

Great. You were so pathetic that strangers were now approaching you out of concern. Fantastic.

“No, it’s fine,” you mumbled, trying to sound less pathetic than you actually were. “I’m just... processing life.”

“Well,” he said, taking a seat beside you with a confidence that made you think he owned the place, “I couldn’t help but overhear a bit about your recent… situation.”

You side-eyed him. “Do I have a sign on my back that says ‘Miserable and Fired’?”

He chuckled softly, and you realized that he probably did know your situation—if the sly look in his eyes was anything to go by. This guy was shady. No questions about it.

“But you know,” he continued, leaning back against the bench, “for someone with your talent, there are always… opportunities. You just need the right connections.”

The way he said "connections" sent a small shiver down your spine. Oh, great. This guy’s gonna offer me some dodgy deal involving pyramid schemes, isn’t he?

“Who are you, exactly? I don't want to sell MLMs by the way” you say, skeptical.

He flashed you a business card. Azul Ashengrotto, CEO of Mostro Corp. The card was ridiculously fancy—embossed gold lettering, sleek finish. It practically screamed ‘shady but professional.’

“I’m a manager,” he said smoothly. “I run an agency that helps clients… of a certain caliber.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Certain caliber?”

“Talented, of course,” he said, smiling like a fox who’d just found a henhouse. “And from what I’ve seen, you have the potential to be a star. It’s just a shame that such talent is going to waste.”

You stared at him for a moment, half expecting him to start laughing and reveal that this was some kind of prank show. But he didn’t. He just kept smiling that annoyingly charming smile, waiting for you to bite the bait.

And you were desperate enough to bite. “Alright, Mr. Ashengrotto. I'll bite. What’s your deal?”

What followed was one of the strangest business meetings you’d ever been part of. You found yourself in a dimly lit café that doubled as Azul’s office, where he laid out his plans for your career with the kind of precision and efficiency that made your head spin.

Everything seemed normal at first—he arranged auditions for you, connected you with stylists, and even got you a few decent roles to build your portfolio. But then, things started getting weird.

For one, Floyd Leech—the guy who looked like he enjoyed squeezing the life out of people for fun—was suddenly your bodyguard. You had no idea why you needed a bodyguard, but there Floyd was, lurking behind you with that predatory grin of his, ready to pounce on anyone who so much as looked at you funny.

“Oh, don’t worry about Floyd,” Azul had said with a dismissive wave when you’d asked about it. “He’s just there for… insurance purposes.”

Insurance against what? You’d wondered, but wisely kept your mouth shut.

Then there was Jade. Ever the smooth talker, Jade seemed to be involved in every part of your career—whether it was subtly manipulating the press or somehow making your critics mysteriously disappear from public view. He was polite and terrifyingly efficient, and you were certain he could make entire scandals vanish with a snap of his fingers. He was shady, but he was the PR manager of your dreams.

And then there was Azul himself. The man was shady, no question. Every time he smiled at you, you half expected him to ask you to sign your soul over to him. But strangely enough, you found yourself growing fond of him. Despite the underhanded methods and the vaguely mafia-esque vibes, Azul actually cared about your success. He was invested in making sure you succeeded.

He pulled out all the stops just to make sure you were taken care of. The small, thoughtful gestures that he tried to pass off as “business necessities” but were far too personal to be anything but affection.

One day, you came back from a particularly grueling audition to find a brand-new set of skincare products waiting for you. Attached to the box was a note: “You deserve only the best. – A.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest.

Azul falls first. And he falls hard.

It had been a good day—or at least, it had been a good enough day. You were walking down the corridor towards Azul’s office, ready to talk about your first gig under his management. You’d been feeling a little lighter lately, knowing that things were finally falling into place with your career. Azul had been a lifesaver, despite his rather... unconventional methods.

But as you approached the door, you froze.

Muffled voices were coming from inside. At first, you thought it was just a typical business negotiation. After all, Azul had many clients and was no stranger to... tense conversations. But then, the voices escalated. One, in particular, sounded agitated, bordering on furious.

You tiptoed closer to the door, the actor in you instinctively picking up on the subtext and emotional cues of the conversation. Whoever was in there was pissed off. You strained to listen.

“I don’t care what the contract says,” the voice spat out, dripping with indignation. “I’m the star of this show. Do you think I’ll let some washed-up nerd dictate how I do my job? I’ve got producers eating out of my hand. You’re lucky I even signed on with your pathetic little company.”

Oof. That was... rough.

There was a pause, and you could picture Azul’s composed expression, his steely calm always in place no matter how nasty things got. His voice was cool, detached. “As your manager, it’s my job to ensure you fulfill the obligations outlined in your contract. If you fail to adhere to them, there will be consequences.”

The other voice laughed—a nasty, derisive sound. “Consequences? Please. What are you going to do? Sue me? You’re just a glorified, ugly, little accountant with delusions of grandeur. I’m the star. Without me, your little operation crumbles. I suggest you remember who holds the power here, Ashengrotto.”

You could feel the insult hanging heavy in the air. Your fists clenched. You knew that comment had really hit. It wasn’t just about the power dynamic in the industry; this actor was taking a shot at Azul’s looks.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You weren’t just going to stand there and let some arrogant, entitled actor stomp all over him. You burst through the door.

“Excuse me,” you said, loud and clear, your eyes fixed on the offending party. They turned to you, surprised. “I couldn’t help but overhear your eloquent speech just now. Really, it was breathtaking. Almost Shakespearean in its delusion.”

The actor blinked, caught off-guard by your sudden entrance.

“And I have to say,” you continued, crossing your arms and giving them a once-over, “you must be so proud of yourself. I mean, to have reached such heights in your career despite having the personality of a wet sock? Incredible. Truly. I’m amazed the directors can tolerate you long enough to hand you a script.”

Azul’s eyes widened slightly as you strolled further into the room, all confidence and righteous indignation. He stood frozen, clearly stunned that you had shown up at just the right time.

The actor’s face turned red, their expression twisting into a snarl. “Who do you think you are?”

“Oh, me? I’m just the one who reads contracts before signing them,” you said sweetly, throwing them a sharp smile. “But hey, I get it—reading is hard for some people. That’s why we have professionals like Azul here. You know, people who are smart enough to handle things like legal terms and intellectual property, which are clearly out of your wheelhouse. Not everyone can be as brilliant as you when it comes to... what was it again? Oh, right, throwing tantrums because the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

Azul blinked, still processing what was happening. You were... defending him? Fiercely? His heart did a little stutter-step, but he tried to pull himself together.

The actor sneered at you, puffing up their chest. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to this. I’m the one with the power here!”

You tilted your head, as if you were considering their words. “Oh, you’re so powerful. Look at you! Big, mighty star. But let me tell you something,” you said, stepping closer with an almost predatory grin, “in this industry? Power isn’t just about being on camera. It’s about the people who pull the strings behind the scenes. People like Azul, who are smart enough to navigate contracts, negotiations, and legalities. You know, the things you clearly didn’t understand when you signed your name on that dotted line.”

You turned to Azul, flashing him a grin before looking back at the actor. “And trust me, you wouldn’t last two minutes without someone like him watching your back. So, instead of throwing a tantrum, why don’t you go home, read your contract—assuming you can read—and think about how grateful you should be that someone as capable as Azul is even willing to manage you.”

The actor sputtered, unable to form a coherent response.

Azul, meanwhile, was still trying to catch his breath. He knew you were a talented actor, but this? This was something else. The way you stood up for him with such... confidence, such fire, had him reeling. His mind was spinning in ways he couldn’t quite grasp. You had stood up for him, defended him so fiercely, and made it look effortless. His heart gave another traitorous lurch in his chest. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way—certainly not about a client. But, wow, the way you had just handled that situation was...

The actor stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind them. You just stood there, hands on your hips, victorious. You turned to Azul with a grin.

“Problem solved,” you said with a wink.

Azul blinked, mouth slightly open. “I... What just...”

“You’re welcome,” you said, walking up to him and tapping the stack of contracts in his hand. “You’re too polite sometimes. Let people like me do the talking every once in a while.”

Azul’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. You could practically hear the gears grinding in his head as he tried to process his emotions. All he could think about was how confident you were, how assertive, how... attractive.

Jade and Floyd would never let him live this down.

But right now, Azul couldn’t think about that. All he could think about was how you had defended him so effortlessly and how his heart was racing in a way he’d never quite felt before. Oh no. He was in trouble.

And as you shot him another smile, one of those dazzling, confident grins that made his stomach flip, Azul realized something else: He was falling. Hard.

You’re sitting in the lounge of Mostro Corp’s office, Azul across from you, his usual composed self with a pen in hand as he reviewed some new contracts. Everything felt calm—well, calm for him. You, on the other hand, were fidgeting in your seat. You needed to break the news to him about the offer, and frankly, you had no idea how to approach it.

“So,” you begin, trying to sound as casual as possible, “I got an offer from another agency.”

Azul’s pen screeched to a halt, freezing mid-signature as if someone had just told him that Mostro Lounge had run out of drinks during peak hours. He didn’t look up immediately—no, instead, his glasses slid ever so slightly down his nose, the slight twitch of his fingers giving away the panic brewing underneath his pristine exterior.

“What?” His voice came out strangled, halfway between an octave too high and a choking sound.

You, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in Azul’s brain, continued casually, “Yeah, it’s from one of those top agencies. They think I have a lot of potential and want to sign me on for this big, high-profile drama. Pretty exciting, huh?”

You were practically grinning like a child who’d just found a shiny new toy, but Azul? He was seconds away from a full-blown existential crisis.

Inside Azul’s mind, things were rapidly spiraling out of control. Top agency? High-profile drama? They want to sign you?! He’d invested so much time, so much effort—no, no, this couldn’t be happening. His precious investment… his precious person… stolen away by another agency?! Ridiculous! Outrageous! It was completely… utterly… breaking him.

Azul’s inner monologue was a flurry of despair and denial. He could almost see it now—some slick, rival manager swooping in with promises of red carpets and glamorous roles, tempting you away with glitzy trailers and five-star restaurants. No, this couldn’t be how it ended. He had to keep you with him!

On the outside, however, Azul forced his face into a tight, polite smile that looked more like a man moments from passing out. “I… see. And you’re… considering this offer?” The words left his lips like venom, though you didn’t catch the sheer level of devastation laced into them.

“Yeah, it seems like a good opportunity,” you replied, shrugging casually. “It might be good for my career, right? I mean, that’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

Oh god, Azul thought, his brain short-circuiting as he stared at you. This is it. I’m losing them. They’re going to leave me for some flashy agency, and then—then what? I’ll never see them again!

Azul’s breath came out in small, controlled bursts as he tried to keep himself from visibly panicking. No, calm down, Ashengrotto. You’re a businessman. You can negotiate your way out of this. But a small part of his brain, the part that was definitely not a businessman, was screaming, Please don’t leave me!

“Ah, well… perhaps we should… further discuss your future endeavors?” Azul finally said, his voice tight. He placed his hands on his desk, knuckles white as he forced a smile that looked like it was causing him actual physical pain.

But you, bless your completely oblivious heart, smiled brightly and nodded. “Sure! I mean, I haven’t accepted it yet, so I thought I’d run it by you first.”

Azul nearly choked. Haven’t accepted it yet? His brain did a frantic backflip. Wait—there’s still hope!

His brain quickly switches to damage control mode. He straightened his posture, trying to regain some semblance of his usual composed businessman self. “You… haven’t accepted the offer yet?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.

“Nope,” you replied, reaching for a snack on the table. “I figured I’d talk to you first. You know, weigh my options.” You casually popped a cracker in your mouth, completely unaware that Azul was just about two seconds away from collapsing into a puddle of pure relief.

Azul’s heart soared. Okay, okay, we still have time. I just need to—wait, did they just say they wanted to run it by me? He blinked, his brain spinning in confusion. Why would they…?

He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses in an attempt to regain control of the situation. “I see. I’m… honored that you would consider discussing it with me first.” The relief in his voice was palpable, though he tried his best to maintain his usual air of dignity. “Though… I would like to remind you of the benefits of staying with Mostro Corp. We have always prided ourselves on our… unique approach to talent management.”

He said this with the air of a lawyer arguing a life-or-death case, when in reality, you were just mulling over whether you wanted fancier sushi or Azul’s morally ambiguous but highly effective business tactics.

Meanwhile, Azul’s brain was going a mile a minute. I can’t lose them. I’ve put too much into this. There must be something I can do… His eyes flicked to you, who was munching happily on crackers, completely unaware of the dramatic turmoil unfolding inside his head.

“Well, of course, you know I value everything you’ve done for me,” you said with a smile, patting his hand. “It’s just nice to know that I’ve got other options, you know?”

Options?! Azul’s brain screamed. NO! I AM THE ONLY OPTION! But outwardly, he managed to laugh—albeit a little shakily—and nod. “Yes… options… how delightful…”

You went back to casually munching your snacks, while Azul sat there, mentally spiraling deeper into a pit of doom and gloom, trying to keep a lid on the emotional hurricane swirling inside him.

By the time you finally looked up at him again, his composure had cracked just enough for you to notice the slight tremble in his usually steady hands. “Azul… Are you okay?”

His mind raced, trying to find the words. “I… I just thought that… perhaps you’d prefer to stay with someone who knows you well. Someone who understands your… unique needs.”

You blinked at him. “Wait… Azul, are you jealous?”

Azul sputtered, the words catching in his throat. “I—what? No! Of course not!” His face flushed red, his voice rising in pitch. “Jealousy is for amateurs! I am merely… concerned about your future. As any responsible manager would be!”

“Uh-huh,” you said, a knowing smile spreading across your face. “Right. Of course. Well, just so you know, I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

Azul let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Okay. Okay. We’re still in the game.

“And besides,” you continued, giving him a reassuring smile, “I trust you, Azul. You’ve done more for me than anyone else has. I’m not going anywhere unless it’s something you think is best for me.”

Azul blinked, his brain stalling for a moment. They trust me? They’re not leaving?

The relief that washed over him was almost too much to bear. He slumped back in his chair, feeling as though the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. He smiled—a genuine, warm smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Well then,” he said, his voice softer now, “I suppose we’ll continue as we always have, won’t we?”

You grinned, leaning back in your chair. “Looks like it.”

And for the first time that day, Azul relaxed. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he was already planning how to lock you down even tighter in his company’s grasp… for purely business reasons, of course.

And maybe, just maybe, for something a little more personal.

You were leaning against the wall, sipping on a coffee Azul had bribed Floyd into fetching (after much grumbling and threats about broken kneecaps). Today was a rare break from the constant whirlwind of shoots, and Azul had dragged you along to an event where industry people could network and rub elbows with those who thought they could “make it big.” You were supposed to be schmoozing, but you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care.

From across the room, you watched as a tall, good-looking actor made a beeline for Azul, who was politely chatting with a producer. The actor had that annoying air of confidence, someone who clearly thought they were a big deal, but not quite there yet. They slid right into the conversation, flashing a brilliant smile at Azul, who raised an eyebrow, bemused but ever the businessman. The actor looked at Azul like he was a prize—no, like he was the prize to win.

“Azul Ashengrotto,” the actor began, their tone dripping with charm. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I’ve seen how much of a star you've made of your… client.” They gestured toward you, their eyes briefly flicking in your direction before they focused back on Azul. “I’ve been thinking—I could really use someone with your talents managing my career.”

You snorted into your coffee, nearly choking. Seriously? This guy wants Azul to manage them?

After that dumbass who couldn’t read had pulled that stunt, Azul had delegated all the actors he was managing to his employees, and he was now only managing you, which admittedly made you extremely giddy.

You straightened up from your position against the wall, deciding to interrupt before Azul could even entertain the notion of jumping ship.

With a wide grin and zero hesitation, you strode up to them, placing yourself squarely between the actor and Azul. “Yeah, no. Sorry, but Azul’s my exclusive manager.” You gave them a look that could cut glass, making sure the actor understood the weight of your words. “He’s not taking on any new clients.”

The actor blinked, taken aback by your sudden appearance and directness. “Oh, but—”

“No buts,” you interrupted, standing firm. “Azul is mine. I mean, my manager.” You could feel Azul’s gaze burning into the side of your face, but you kept your focus on the actor. “He’s not available to anyone else. Trust me, he’s busy enough keeping up with all my… uh, brilliance.”

Azul, to his credit, didn’t immediately burst out laughing. Instead, he simply pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What they mean to say,” he said smoothly, “is that I’m currently not looking to expand my roster at this time. But I appreciate the interest.”

The actor, visibly flustered, tried to salvage the situation. “I see… I didn’t mean to intrude, I just thought—”

“No hard feelings,” you said, patting their arm in what you hoped was a reassuring gesture. “But I’d suggest finding someone else. Someone… less exclusive.”

The actor gave a forced smile and mumbled something about needing to talk to someone across the room before scampering off. The moment they were out of earshot, you turned back to Azul, who was eyeing you with a raised brow, lips twitching like he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing.

“Exclusive manager, huh?” he mused, his voice warm with amusement. “I didn’t realize I’d been promoted to such a prestigious title.”

You shrugged, not even slightly embarrassed. “Hey, I’ve got to protect my manager. I can’t have you getting distracted by someone else.”

Azul chuckled softly, but the laughter wasn’t entirely aimed at the situation. No, it was more for how ridiculously flattered he felt by your words. Exclusive, huh? He’d never thought he’d be the sort of person to get all giddy over being someone’s exclusive anything, but there it was. Something about the way you’d swooped in so quickly to claim him—without hesitation—made his heart do a strange little flutter.

Internally, Azul was practically doing cartwheels. You had no idea how hard it was for him to suppress the grin threatening to take over his face. But, ever the composed businessman, he simply adjusted his cufflinks, a faint laugh escaping his lips. “Well, it seems I’m in high demand,” he teased lightly, trying to mask just how pleased he really was.

“You’ve always been in high demand,” you shot back with a grin. “Just lucky for me that I got to you first.”

Azul's laughter this time was soft but genuine. “Indeed. Very lucky.”

But inside, he was absolutely beaming. Not even the prospect of losing a business opportunity could faze him—because honestly, how could anything compare to the feeling of being yours? Even if you didn’t fully realize it yet.

You’d been roped into having dinner with Azul’s family after a business trip to Coral Sea City went surprisingly well. Somehow, what was supposed to be a brief check-in had escalated into a full-blown family dinner at the Ashengrotto household, with Azul, Floyd, and Jade acting as your escorts (read: babysitters).

Azul, as always, had planned to keep things professional. Just a casual dinner. What could go wrong? Except, as it turned out, quite a lot.

The minute you walked in, you were greeted by the smell of delicious food and spices, courtesy of Mrs. Ashengrotto, who practically beamed when she saw you with Azul. “Oh! Azul! You didn’t tell me you were bringing your partner!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

You blinked in surprise. “Oh, no, I’m not—"

Before you could even finish, Floyd swooped in, grinning like cat who just caught the canary “Yup, they’re totally dating, Auntie! Azul’s been so secretive, but we finally got him to spill the beans, heh~”

You shot Azul a panicked glance, but his face had already turned a subtle shade of pink. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “That’s… not exactly true, Mother. They’re my client.”

“Client? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Mrs. Ashengrotto asked, giving you both a knowing wink.

You were on the verge of correcting her again, but before you could, Jade, ever the schemer, chimed in. “Oh, it’s quite romantic, really. Azul’s always looking after them, making sure they’re taken care of, both in their career and in life. The dedication he shows is quite admirable.”

“That’s because I’m their manager,” Azul muttered, shooting Jade a glare that clearly said please stop helping.

“Manager? Oh, Azul, don’t be so modest,” Mrs. Ashengrotto said, her voice soft with maternal pride. “It’s wonderful that you’re so dedicated to them.”

Floyd, ever the troublemaker, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Did you know that Azul practically handpicks all of their outfits too? He’s got a real eye for detail.”

Azul looked mortified. “I did not—”

“Isn’t that romantic?” Jade sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Choosing clothes for someone, guiding them through their career, always by their side…”

Azul pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the urge to throttle his eels. “I’m just ensuring they look professional.”

Mrs. Ashengrotto smiled sweetly at the exchange. “That’s so thoughtful of you, Azul. Just like your stepfather—always looking out for the people he cares about.”

You opened your mouth to interject, but before you could get a word in, Azul’s grandmother shuffled in from the next room, her staff clicking against the floor. She was a small, wizened woman with sharp eyes that seemed to peer straight through you.

“Ah,” she said, nodding sagely. “So this is the one who has captured Azul’s heart.”

You felt like you were about to faint. “No, no, no! We’re not—”

“Don’t be shy, dear,” Azul’s grandmother interrupted, giving you a smile that somehow made you feel accepted. “Azul’s always been very particular, but I see why he’s chosen you. Strong-willed, intelligent… It’s a good match.”

Azul’s face was the color of a boiled lobster at this point. “Grandmother, they’re not—"

“Oh, it’s just like a fairy tale,” Floyd sighed dramatically, flinging his arms wide. “The manager and the star, united against the odds! Love blossoming amidst the contracts!”

Jade leaned in, his voice smooth and teasing. “I suppose we’ll have to prepare a speech for the engagement party soon. You wouldn’t want to be caught unprepared, would you, Azul?”

Azul shot Jade a look that could kill. “There will be no engagement because there is nothing to engage.”

You, meanwhile, were torn between laughing and crawling under the table. How had this situation spiraled so completely out of control?

“Ah, young love,” Mrs. Ashengrotto said with a fond sigh. “It’s a beautiful thing. Just like when I met my husband. He was so shy at first too, you know.”

“I am not shy!” Azul protested, but his voice lacked its usual bite. He glanced at you, clearly embarrassed, but you could see the way his lips twitched with a suppressed smile. He was as flustered as you were, even if he was trying not to show it.

You decided to just give up and lean into it. “Well, I guess if everyone’s so sure we’re a couple,” you said, throwing a look at Azul, “then maybe we should start acting like one?”

Azul froze for a second, then gave you a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “You’re absolutely not helping.”

Jade chuckled. “Oh, but they are, Azul. They most certainly are.”

Azul sighed, shaking his head, but there was a faint smile on his face. His family continued to dote on you both throughout dinner, exchanging stories about Azul’s childhood and teasing him endlessly about your “relationship.” And while it was all a little overwhelming, you couldn’t help but find it… oddly heartwarming.

At the end of the night, as you and Azul finally managed to escape his family’s clutches, you caught him glancing at you, a rare softness in his eyes.

“You know,” he said quietly, “they’re never going to stop teasing us about this.”

You laughed, bumping his shoulder lightly. “Well, it could be worse. At least they like me.”

Azul smiled, his expression warm despite the chaos of the evening. “That, they do.”

And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea of them being right.

The role was wild from the start: you’d been cast as a “Hay-Witch.” Yes, you heard that right. A Hay-Witch. The small-time movie was hyped as the next indie darling—a quirky, fantasy-adventure flick where your character used the mystical powers of hay to cure ailments, summon the wind, and fend off demons. It was like a strange blend of Hallmark romance and someone’s fever dream. And of course, you had to research this bizarre profession to get into character.

Where do you even begin? Naturally, with a trip to the village of Elderstraw, home to the world’s last remaining Hay-Witch practitioners. Because yes, apparently, that’s a thing.

You were baffled, Azul was intrigued, and the both of you set off to the countryside, where adventure awaited—and perhaps a bit of weirdness, too.

The village itself was charming in a “smells like cows and fresh grass” kind of way. Everyone was far too friendly, as if they hadn’t seen an outsider in years. You couldn’t walk five steps without someone giving you fresh milk, yogurt, or, unsurprisingly, bundles of hay. It was bizarre but kind of sweet.

It all seemed manageable until one of the village elders, a sprightly old woman with a mischievous glint in her eye, mistook you and Azul for a couple.

“Oh! Look at you two, so in love!” she exclaimed, hands clasped dramatically to her chest. “It warms my heart to see young folks so smitten.”

Azul chuckled, clearly amused. You, however, were mid-sip of water and nearly choked on it.

“No, no, we’re just—” you began, waving your hands wildly.

“Deny it all you want,” she said with a wink, “but love speaks louder than words. It’s in your eyes! And don’t you worry—we’ll make sure you enjoy all the festival activities together as a pair.”

“What festival?” you asked weakly.

“The Hay Festival, of course! Only couples can participate,” she said matter-of-factly, grabbing your face and Azul’s, smushing them together. “There’s no need to be shy! We’re not a judging village!”

Azul, the absolute traitor, merely smiled and shrugged. “When in Elderstraw…”

You shot him a withering look, but it was no use. The village had already decided, and there was no backing out.

The day started innocently enough, with the village’s version of “couple activities.” First up was the “Two-Man Hay Bale Haul,” a ridiculous contest where you and your supposed partner had to lift bales of hay and stack them as high as possible. Azul, ever the perfectionist, approached it like it was an Olympic event. Meanwhile, you were doing your best not to trip over the giant, scratchy bales.

“Careful,” Azul teased, as he hoisted yet another bale. “We wouldn’t want to ruin that professional image of yours.”

“I’m already in a village hauling hay for a Hay-Witch movie,” you grumbled. “My professional image is long gone.”

Next up was the “Lovers’ Hay Ride,” where you were forced to sit in a tiny wooden cart filled with—you guessed it—hay, while the local farmhands pulled you through the fields. The villagers serenaded you with what could only be described as country ballads.

Azul, to your horror, looked positively relaxed. You, on the other hand, felt like you were one step away from a sitcom-level breakdown.

“It’s peaceful here,” Azul remarked, gazing out at the rolling fields. “Don’t you think?”

“Peaceful?” you muttered, shoving a piece of hay out of your sleeve. “I’ve got hay everywhere. I think it’s multiplying.”

But it didn’t stop there. The locals had arranged a series of “intimate couple activities” that only got more ridiculous. From attempting to weave “love charms” out of hay (yours looked like a sad clump of straw), to participating in a “Hay-Witch Fortune Telling,” where the village’s oldest resident peered into a bowl of dried hay and made proclamations about your future.

“You’ll marry before the harvest!” the elderly fortune teller cried, her wrinkled face lighting up with joy. “I see it as clear as day! Your love will thrive like our crops in spring!”

You coughed, feeling a bit light-headed from the sheer absurdity of it all. “Uh, thanks? I think?”

Azul snickered, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “You heard her. Before the harvest.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, elbowing him.

But the straw that broke the hay-witch’s back came when the village elders insisted you both join them in the “Festival of Eternal Union”—which was apparently just a fancy way of saying “giant group picnic where all couples feed each other.”

“I’m going to die here,” you muttered as an elder handed you a basket of homemade cheese and bread. “This is how it ends for me.”

Azul, ever the opportunist, merely handed you a slice of bread with a smirk. “Then I’ll make sure it’s a memorable end.”

And somehow, throughout all of it, you found yourself… softening. The ridiculous activities, the constant teasing, the stolen glances and easy banter—it was all so strange, yet it felt right. Maybe it was the quiet charm of the village, or maybe it was just Azul being… well, Azul.

Your heart started doing funny little flips whenever he smiled at you, or when his hand brushed against yours by accident (or, more likely, on purpose). You were used to his confidence, his calculated demeanor, but here, in the middle of nowhere, he seemed softer. More human.

At some point, as you sat under the shade of a giant oak tree, watching the sunset, you realized with a jolt: Oh no. I’m actually falling for him.

You stared at him as he casually offered you a piece of fruit from the basket, completely unaware of the internal crisis you were having.

I’m falling for Azul Ashengrotto. In a tiny village where they think I’m a Hay-Witch. In the middle of a field. Because of hay. How is this my life?

The universe had a twisted sense of humor, clearly.

Azul glanced over at you, noticing your silence. “Something on your mind?”

You blinked rapidly, trying to compose yourself. “Uh, no! Nope. Just thinking about… hay.”

Azul quirked an eyebrow. “Hay?”

“Yeah,” you said lamely. “Lots of it here.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, hand brushing against yours. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Oh god, you thought, your heart thudding in your chest. I’m really doomed.

You're no coward. You've realized your feelings and you're going to do something about it. You're almost certain he likes you back so all you have to do was confess right?

Oh, you sweet summer child. You wish.

The sun had barely crept up over the horizon, but you were already at work, trying once again to get through Azul’s thick, polished skull that you had a crush on him. It had been weeks—no, months—of subtle hints. Casual touches on the arm. Extra compliments on his outfits. Playfully stealing his pens during meetings. Even dropping lines like, “You know, if you weren’t my manager, you’d make a great boyfriend.” Nothing had worked. Not even a flicker of recognition in those brilliant blue eyes of his.

Across the room, Floyd and Jade were quietly dying. Well, Floyd was barely quiet. His cackling echoed through the office more than once, only to be shushed by a very flustered Azul.

You sighed, watching Azul as he flipped through some papers, oblivious to the chaos happening right in front of him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was intentionally ignoring your advances. But no—this was Azul. The guy who was both brilliant and completely clueless when it came to romance. It was like trying to flirt with a brick wall that had an MBA.

“Alright,” Azul muttered, adjusting his glasses. “Here’s the agenda for today’s meeting. We’ll need to go over the contract for your next project and—”

You weren’t even listening. Not really. You were too busy devising your next plan of attack. Jade caught your eye from across the room, smirking knowingly, while Floyd had his face buried in a pillow, trying not to burst into laughter again. They both knew what was coming. They always knew what was coming. This time, you weren’t going to go subtle. No, subtlety had failed you. This time, you were going to drop a bomb so big, Azul wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“Well,” you began, standing up from your chair with a dramatic flair. “Azul, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Azul barely looked up from his paperwork. “Yes? Is it about the new script?”

“No,” you said, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. “It’s about something... much more important.”

“More important than the script?” Azul raised an eyebrow, finally looking up at you. “Are you feeling alright? Should we reschedule the meeting?”

Jade had already covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle his laughter. Floyd had given up any attempt at composure and was sprawled out on the couch, face buried in a pillow, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

“No, no,” you continued, ignoring the fact that your two audience members were on the verge of a breakdown. “I’m perfectly fine. I’ve just... I’ve been trying to tell you something for a while now, and I think it’s time I just come out and say it.”

Azul blinked, looking genuinely concerned now. “If it’s about renegotiating your contract, we can certainly—”

“Oh my god, Azul, stop talking about contracts for five seconds!” you blurted out, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “This isn’t about the contract! It’s about you!”

Azul blinked, confusion settling in. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. This was it. The moment of truth. “I like you. Like, really like you. As in, I’m attracted to you. Romantically.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Azul stared at you, processing your words like you’d just spoken in an ancient, dead language. His eyes darted around the room, looking for some kind of logical explanation, while Jade’s shoulders shook harder with barely-contained laughter. Floyd was now actively biting his pillow to stop from shrieking in delight.

“...What?” Azul finally said, his voice full of disbelief.

“I. Like. You,” you repeated slowly, enunciating every word. “Like, in a romantic way. You know, feelings. Like affection, Azul. I’m saying I have a crush on you.”

Azul’s face flushed pink, and he shook his head rapidly as if trying to clear the fog. “N-no. That... That’s not possible. You must be mistaken.”

Floyd let out a loud snort of laughter, unable to hold back anymore. “Mistaken? About their OWN feelings?” he echoed, half-laughing, half-gasping for air. “Oh, this is too rich!”

Jade was trying to keep his composure, but he was wiping away tears now. “Azul, I do believe they’ve been quite clear.”

But Azul was undeterred. “No, no,” he said, standing up and pacing, hands flying around as he tried to piece together an explanation. “They’re clearly just being friendly. Maybe it’s a... a professional admiration! Yes, that’s it. A-and, perhaps, they’re simply appreciative of my management skills!”

Really? Right in front of your salad? If mental gymnastics was an actual sport, he would be the Olympic gold medalist without breaking a sweat.

Floyd was full-on howling now, tears streaming down his face as he clutched his sides. “Bro, I can’t breathe—what skills are you even talking about?”

“Azul,” you said with as much patience as you could muster, “I’m telling you that I like you in a romantic way. Like... I would very much like to go on a date with you. As in a romantic date.”

Azul stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. “No,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else. “No, that can’t be right. It’s got to be a misunderstanding. you’ve never shown any romantic interest before. There must be some other explanation.”

“There isn’t,” you said, exasperated. “I’ve been dropping hints for months! I’ve been flirting with you this entire time!”

Azul looked at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, what?”

You rubbed your temples in frustration. “Do you remember when I complimented your outfit every single day for a week?”

Azul blinked. “I thought you were just being polite.”

“And the time I said I’d love to have a boyfriend as organized as you?”

“I assumed you were just making conversation.”

Floyd rolled off the couch, clutching his stomach and wheezing from laughing so hard. “Boss, you’re killing me!”

Jade patted Azul’s shoulder, his face split into a wide grin. “Azul, perhaps it’s time to accept that they may actually like you.”

Azul stared at you, his brain doing backflips to try and comprehend what was happening. “But... why?”

“Because I like you,” you said with a sigh. “You’re smart, charming, and—despite being utterly oblivious—you’re incredibly caring.”

For a moment, Azul just stood there, mouth agape, trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “But... you’re my client. You can’t possibly like me in that way.”

Jade, at this point, was openly laughing. “Oh, Azul. You truly are one of a kind.”

You sighed again, this time with a fond smile. “You know what? Fine. Don’t believe me. I guess I’ll just have to be even more obvious about it.”

Floyd, still trying to catch his breath, managed to rasp out, “Can’t wait to see how that goes.”

Azul stared between you and his cackling friends, his mind still racing as you simply smiled at him, leaving the final blow for later. But little did he know, you had one more trick up your sleeve—the next time you had an interview, you’d make sure the whole world knew exactly how you felt. That should be obvious enough for even him to understand.

...Hopefully.

The interview was going smoothly—or at least, it was supposed to. You were doing your usual promo rounds for your latest movie, fielding questions with ease, and feeling pretty confident. Azul stood off to the side, clipboard in hand, monitoring everything with his usual meticulous care.

Then, the interviewer hit you with the dreaded question. "So, there's been some talk about your personal life. A lot of fans are dying to know... is there someone special in your life right now?"

You didn’t even hesitate. Flashing a coy smile, you leaned forward in your chair, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You could say that, yeah."

Azul, off to the side, blinked. His eyebrows furrowed, immediately sensing danger. Wait. What? They never mentioned this before... His brain immediately started scanning for any missed signs. Were you seeing someone and hadn’t told him?

The interviewer’s grin widened, clearly excited by the scoop. “Oh, really? Someone special, huh? Do we know them?”

"Well," you mused, pretending to think about it as you twirled the water bottle cap in your hand. “I’d say a lot of people know them. They’re... pretty well-known for being supportive, always looking out for me, and just being an all-around amazing person."

Azul swallowed hard. Supportive? Well-known? He tried to stay calm, but his heart rate was rising. Who the hell could they be talking about?

Jade, meanwhile, had the world's biggest grin on his face. He glanced at Azul, enjoying watching him mentally spiral. This was about to get good.

The interviewer pressed on, eyes practically sparkling. “Sounds like someone really special! Care to drop a hint for us?”

You laughed, a sound that made Azul’s pulse spike for entirely different reasons. “I don’t know if I should,” you teased. “But I guess I could say... they’ve been by my side every step of the way.”

Azul nearly dropped his clipboard. Wait, wait, wait. No way. No, it can’t be… Me? His mind was in chaos. There was no possible way, right?

Azul could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. His thoughts were racing at a million miles per hour. No, they’re definitely just being vague for the media. It’s probably all for the image... right?

Jade leaned over and whispered, loud enough for Azul to hear. “Sounds like they’re talking about someone we know, don’t you think?”

Azul shot him a panicked look. “It’s definitely not me,” he hissed. “They’re just... being friendly. It’s purely platonic. Definitely platonic.”

Jade’s smirk deepened. “If you say so.”

But the more confident you looked, the more Azul found himself spiraling. Your calm, collected attitude was doing something to him, stirring something deeper in his chest that he refused to acknowledge. Why were you so relaxed about this? Were you toying with the media for fun, or... were you serious?

Jade was, by now, thoroughly entertained, watching as Azul’s thoughts clearly spiraled. “Azul,” he said with mock seriousness, “I do believe you might need some water. You’re looking a little pale.”

Azul shot him a glare that could’ve frozen a lake. “I’m fine. They’re just being... vague.”

Jade hummed, unconvinced but highly amused.

But before Azul could continue to stew in his confusion, the interviewer asked the golden question. “So, this person... Is it someone from your current circle? Perhaps a certain... manager?”

Your smile widened. “Oh, absolutely. They’re in my circle. In fact... It is my manager.”

Azul’s heart skipped about six beats. He stared at you in complete shock, the world around him tilting slightly. No...

The interviewer gasped dramatically. “Your manager?! Really?”

"Yep," you replied breezily. "They’ve always been there for me, handling my career, keeping me on track... Honestly, I wouldn’t have come this far without them."

Azul's brain short-circuited. They’re talking about me... Wait, no. Maybe they mean it in a purely professional sense. Yeah. That’s got to be it. This is all just... a misunderstanding.

The interviewer was ecstatic. “That’s so sweet! So, you really admire them, huh?”

You met the interviewer’s gaze, your tone softening slightly. “Yeah... I do. A lot.”

Azul was trying very, very hard not to combust. His hands were shaking slightly, and Jade noticed, elbowing him with a wicked grin. “Still think it’s platonic, Azul?”

“I—” Azul stammered. “They... They must mean it... as a friend. Nothing more.”

Jade chuckled. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The interview finally wrapped up, but the damage was done. You were trying not to laugh as you rejoined Azul and Jade, who were both staring at you with very different expressions. Jade looked like he was about to burst from the sheer amusement of it all, while Azul… Azul looked like he was desperately trying to figure out how to delete your entire existence from the timeline.

“Why did you—?” Azul started, but you just patted his arm, snickering.

“Oh, come on, Azul. Don’t worry so much. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?!” he practically screeched. “You just told the world you have feelings for me!”

“Yeah, and?” You shrugged nonchalantly, finding his distress far too entertaining. “Everyone’s gonna find out sooner or later.”

Azul ran his hands through his hair, clearly nearing a full-blown meltdown. “They’re going to think we’re… we’re together! People are going to start making assumptions! What if it affects your career? What if—”

Jade clapped him on the shoulder. “What if you stop panicking and actually consider that maybe… just maybe… they meant what they said?”

Azul was about to protest again when your phone buzzed. You checked it and burst out laughing. “Oh man, Azul, you’ve gotta see this.”

“NOOOO, THEY’RE IN LOVE???” “Who’s Azul and why haven’t we seen them kiss yet??” “Okay, but like… I can’t even be mad, this guy is hot.” “I’m crying… I thought I had a chance 😭” “Azul? More like A-zuuulooooove 🥲” “Wait, isn’t he their manager? Damn, that’s hot.” “I SHIP IT SO HARD!!!” “Okay but let’s be real, they’re glowing lately, so Azul is probably good for them.” “I demand photos of them with this Azul!!! I need to see if he’s worthy!!” “AZUL IS LUCKY AF.” “I thought I was delusional, but NOPE, IT’S REAL!!!” “Lmfao, this is straight out of a K-drama. Is Azul secretly a billionaire?”

Azul just groaned, covering his face again. “I’m going to die.”

You patted his back with a grin. “Nah, you’ll be fine. Just think about all the fans you’re getting now.”

Jade was chuckling beside him. “Oh, I’m sure he’s enjoying this. Internally, he’s probably quite flattered.”

Azul just muttered something incomprehensible, which you chose to interpret as agreement.

All in all, it was probably the most entertaining interview of your life—though for poor Azul, it might have been the most traumatic.

It was supposed to be a routine day on set—a quick shoot, a few lines, and some light action. Nothing out of the ordinary. But of course, that was the day everything went wrong.

You hadn’t even realized anything was amiss at first. Just a small slip while rehearsing a particularly tricky scene. Sure, you scraped your knee, but it wasn’t exactly life-threatening. You shrugged it off as no big deal.

Except it was a big deal to Azul. Because the moment Floyd let slip that you had taken a “gnarly fall,” Azul exploded onto the set like he was auditioning for a telenovela himself.

The door to your dressing room burst open, and there he stood, eyes wide with horror. “You’ve been injured?!”

Before you could even respond, he was at your side, grabbing your hand and scanning you over with frantic intensity. “Where? Where does it hurt? Are you bleeding? Do we need an ambulance?”

“It’s just a scratch—”

“A scratch?! Scratches can get infected! We need antiseptics, bandages—perhaps we should take you to a hospital just in case!” Azul’s voice climbed higher with every word, his panic spiraling out of control.

Floyd, who was leaning against the doorframe, grinned mischievously. “Oh, it was brutal, boss. They were practically airborne, soaring through the air like a majestic seagull—”

“Floyd!” you interrupted, shooting him a glare. “I slipped, and my foot barely left the ground.”

“Details, details,” Floyd said, waving his hand dismissively. “But Azul’s right, you know. Maybe we should call in a medevac.”

Azul’s hands were now fluttering uselessly around your arms, his normally cool demeanor shattered into a thousand frantic pieces. “You could have a concussion! A torn ligament! Internal bleeding! We should get a full-body scan—what if this jeopardizes your career?”

You sighed, feeling both exasperated and oddly touched by his theatrics. “Azul, it’s a scraped knee. I’ll survive.”

But he wasn’t hearing it. “No, no, no. You don’t understand! This industry is cutthroat! We can’t risk even the slightest injury—what if this compromises your ability to walk in heels for a scene? Or worse, what if—"

Finally, you'd had enough. With one swift motion, you grabbed the lapels of his pristine suit and yanked him down to your level. Then, without hesitation, you pressed your lips to his.

Azul froze like someone had just poured a bucket of ice water over his head. His eyes went wide, his hands hovering in the air for a moment before slowly settling on your arms. You held the kiss for a few seconds, long enough for him to stop his rambling.

When you pulled back, Azul blinked, looking dazed and utterly bewildered. “Wha—what was that for?” he stammered, his cheeks flushed pink.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face. “To shut you up. Honestly, you’re being ridiculous. It’s just a scratch, and I’m fine.”

“But—” he began, only to stop short when he noticed the faint smile on your face. Slowly, he let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I… may have overreacted.”

“You think?” you teased, still holding onto his suit.

Azul cleared his throat, straightening his posture, though he couldn’t quite meet your eyes. “Well, I suppose I was a bit... concerned,” he admitted, his voice softer now, more vulnerable.

You raised an eyebrow. “A bit?”

His lips quirked up in a sheepish smile. “Fine, more than a bit.”

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, Azul still holding you close, his earlier panic replaced by a gentle fondness. “You really scared me,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing against your arm in a rare display of tenderness.

You softened at his words, letting go of his suit and resting your hand on his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

Azul exhaled, the tension finally melting away from his shoulders. “Well,” he said, his usual confidence slowly returning, “I suppose I’ll forgive you. But only if you promise to be more careful.”

You smirked. “I’ll try. But no more medical emergencies, okay?”

Azul gave you a soft smile, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your arm. “Agreed.”

Azul still had a hand resting on your arm when Floyd finally disappeared, but the mood shifted slightly, the weight of the moment sinking in. He glanced at you, and though the frantic energy had dissipated, there was still something lingering in his eyes—a hint of hesitation.

You decided to go for it.

“Azul,” you began, your voice soft yet steady, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

He blinked at you, his brows furrowing in concern. “You’re not seriously injured, are you? I knew we should’ve gotten a doctor—”

“No, Azul, it’s not about that,” you cut him off gently, grabbing his hand again to keep him from spiraling. “It’s… about us.”

That got his attention. His body stiffened, and his eyes widened a fraction. “Us?” he repeated, like he’d never heard the word before.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I didn’t want to say anything at first because I thought you were delibrately ignoring my confession. But I think… I’ve fallen for you.”

For a solid three seconds, Azul just stared at you. Not a blink. Not a twitch. It was like his entire brain had momentarily short-circuited. “Fallen for me?” he echoed slowly, like he was trying to translate a foreign language in his head. “You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I said,” you teased lightly, though your pulse quickened. “What, is it really so hard to believe?”

Azul swallowed hard, his voice still unusually shaky. “I—well—yes, actually.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-expecting a quip or a deflection. “Why’s that?”

Azul suddenly seemed more flustered than when he thought you needed an ambulance. “I just assumed—well, this whole time I thought… I mean, I thought it was more of a… situationship,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower with each word, like he was embarrassed to even say it. “A temporary thing. Surely you couldn’t actually… love me.”

You let out a small laugh, though it was more affectionate than amused. “You’re really selling yourself short, Azul.”

He stared at you like he was still processing the information, eyes wide and blinking rapidly. “But I’m not… I mean, you could have someone better,” he mumbled, suddenly very interested in the floor.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated and endeared all at once. “Oh my god, Azul. You’re smart, funny, successful, and you care more than you let on. Why do you think I’ve stuck around this long?”

Azul’s cheeks were bright red by now, his lips parting slightly in a way that made him look like a fish out of water. “You… love me.” He repeated again, this time softer, almost like he was afraid to say it too loudly in case it turned out to be a joke.

You couldn’t help but laugh at how flabbergasted he looked. “Yes, Azul. I love you.”

He let out a breath he didn’t seem to realize he was holding, and for a moment, he just stood there, completely silent, his expression one of shock mixed with… something else. Something deeper, like a weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders.

Then, out of nowhere, his hands tightened on your arms, and before you could react, he pulled you into his chest in a sudden, desperate hug. His grip was so tight you were sure he was never going to let go.

“I-I love you, too,” he said, voice muffled against your hair. “I didn’t know how to say it… I thought you’d want something… less complicated than me.”

You smiled, pressing your face into his chest and letting the warmth of his embrace wash over you. “You’re more than worth the complications, Azul.”

His arms loosened just enough to pull back and look at you, eyes glistening just a little, his expression softer than you’d ever seen. “I can’t believe this,” he murmured, almost in disbelief. “I thought—well, I thought you’d tire of me.”

You wiped away a stray tear that had slipped from his eye, your heart swelling. “I don’t think I ever could, even if I tried.”

For a moment, he looked like he might cry again, but he quickly blinked it away, clearing his throat as he attempted to regain some composure. “You’re sure you’re not concussed? Perhaps this is the result of head trauma…”

You laughed, swatting his shoulder playfully. “I’m sure.”

Azul cracked a smile, though he still looked a bit overwhelmed. “Well… I suppose this changes everything.”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open again, and Floyd poked his head in with a devilish grin. “Sooo, I guess I should cancel that medevac, huh?”

Azul groaned, but this time it was more out of exasperated affection than anything else. “Floyd…”

Floyd snickered, winking at you as he sauntered in. “Aww, look at you two, all lovey-dovey. Makes me wanna puke.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Floyd grinned wider. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around. Never know when you might trip and need mouth-to-mouth.”

Azul threw a water bottle at him. “Out!”

Floyd dodged it easily, laughing as he slipped back out the door, leaving the two of you alone again.

Azul sighed, shaking his head, though there was a faint smile on his lips. “He’s never going to let us live this down, is he?”

“Nope, and neither is Jade.” you said, grinning. “But that’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

Azul looked at you, his gaze soft and warm. “Together.”

“So,” you said after a moment, pulling away just enough to look up at him, “now that we’ve got that sorted, how about we go celebrate? Dinner? Something fancy?”

Azul’s eyes gleamed with excitement, the business side of him flickering to life. “I happen to know a very exclusive place. The best seafood in town, I assure you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seafood? After the whole shark tank incident?”

Azul blinked before laughing, realizing the irony. “Alright, maybe something more… neutral.”

And as you glanced at Azul, his hand warm and secure in yours, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the universe had thrown you into this crazy situation for a reason. After all, who else could say their manager turned out to be the love of their life?

Azul Ashengrotto, the shark in a suit, was all yours.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Masterlist

Okay the azul brainrot was real here, it went from 1k to 2k and i then suddenly was committed to a 10k fic Fun fact: The hay witch thing came from a movie idea that my friends and i came up with while being completely wasted.

[sophieinwonderland]

Hello fellow Tumblrites!

Yay! Glad to hear it!

So here is the deal... Apple CEO Tim Cook donated a million dollars to Trump's inaugural committee. He foolishly thought that bending the knee in advance would get him favor with the new regime.

The problem with fascists is that once you surrender, they always want more.

Trump earlier on truth social threatened to put a 25% tariff on Apple.

The above real post on Truth Social was followed by a sharp drop in Apple stock.

The real Tim Cook, like so many other corporate leaders, is afraid to stand up to fascism. They are afraid to explain the realities of manufacturing in America and why even with tariffs, it's still cheaper to produce in other countries.

If we cannot look to corporate for resistance, we can at least manufacture it ourselves.

What I am asking is that you help me spread around this tweet.

This is not real. This is a product of paint.net because we're too cheap to pay for Photoshop.

What we need you to do...

Reblog this to help it spread around Tumblr and get more people involved in our psyop.

Copy the image of the fake tweet from Tim Cook and share it on at least one other social media website you use. It can be Twitter or Facebook or Truth Social if you are on Truth Social for some reason. You can post it on a subreddit that you don't mind getting banned from for spreading misinformation. Add your own reaction to the post about what you think of what "Tim Cook" said.

Try to aim for posting this on websites where you will find conservatives who might pick it up.

Be prepared to defend the validity of the tweet if challenged. If somebody mentions that they looked at Twitter and didn't find it there, you can claim that it was deleted.

If somebody makes too good of an argument against the tweet's existence, such as finding this post that spells out the strategy, just ignore them and don't give them any further attention. Block if necessary to hide their corrections or make sure you get the last word.

Whatever you do, absolutely never break character and reveal that you know it's fake in front of Trump supporters on other websites. You can tell your friends though if you want to get them involved.

If you come across someone else on another site spreading this tweet, be sure to like and share it to boost them.

What is this really going to accomplish?

The most ambitious goal would be to have this take off and spread everywhere, even getting picked up by lazy right-wing media who will help goad The Trump Regime into threatening even higher tariffs on Apple, further driving a wedge between them and making the real Tim Cook regret his donation.

That is a pretty lofty goal and it would take a lot of effort and luck to get it that far.

Even if it doesn't get there, every single Trump supporter who believes this misinformation is another Trump supporter who will be less likely to buy an Apple product.

We can still hurt their bottom line. We can still punish them, at least a little, for bending the knee and trying to pay off a wannabe dictator.

And it can be a little fun too! 😁

So, who's in?

[stone-stars]

Full thread from Sam on the SAG strike and Dropout!

[ID: A thread from Sam on twitter, as follows: "A thread about the strike and Dropout production: 👇✊. I stand in complete and utter solidarity with our striking performers. I myself am SAG-AFTRA, as are others on our executive team, having come from the world of working actors. I am nothing but sympathetic to their cause and outraged by the mafia-like behavior of the major streamers and AMPTP. It is harder than ever to make a living in this industry, and that goes even for the lucky few of us who get to work on meaningful projects.

In the meanwhile… 🤑 Uber-rich CEOs and shareholders are cashing in like never before 💸 Major streamers are gambling millions on dubious projects and business models 🍾 Hollywood is hiding profits and playing the victim while drinking champagne aboard their superyachts

Dropout production is right now on hold. Because we aren't associated with the AMPTP, it's possible we may be able to reach an interim agreement with SAG that allows us to continue to produce content during the strike.

But we'll only do that, obviously, if we get the blessing of the union and the buy-in of our performers. If not, we have enough content in the can to last us a little past the end of the year.

I pride myself in that Dropout has always paid above SAG minimums. As the years go on and the company is healthier, we will strive to do even better, and then even better still. Without the talent of our performers, we are zilch. Zero. Nothing."

Attached is an instagram post from an actor reading: "The Netflix show in question is shorter than a traditional half hour. But @ collegehumor and @ dropouttv paid me MORE than that for one of their scripted series. Dropout was a brand new online platform at the time and they still managed to pay their actors more than NETFLIX for scripted short form content."

Thread continues: "Public companies don't do this for the very simple reason that they feel more indebted to their executives and shareholders than they do their workforce. It's why corporations are so often exploitative. Our industry, because our jobs are so desirable, is especially vulnerable to exploitation. Hollywood takes advantage of that by making us feel generally commoditized, cheap, and replaceable …which is ironic given just how personal our work so often is. That's why unions - and the power of collective bargaining - is so important: because public companies often won't pay their workforce any more than they're forced to.

As for me, I intend to honor my union's position that I not promote SAG productions as a performer -- even if they are produced by me. That means that I won't personally be promoting any of our shows for the time being.

Attached is a screenshot of Sam on Discord responding to the question "given the strike… what picket line chant will you be rockin'?" with "i'm a talent / CEO! me says me has got to go!"

Thread continues: "This year, instead of running a FYC campaign for Game Changer, we donated $10k to the Entertainment Community Fund in solidarity with the WGA. Today, in solidarity with SAG-AFTRA, I'm personally matching that donation with another $10,000. If you have any disposable income, I encourage you to donate as well: https://entertainmentcommunity.org. And as soon as I test negative for COVID, I'll see you on the picket line. ✊"]

[purble-gaymer]

i don’t really do big announcements about things, but this is important to me. twitter user Toonyteeth just learned she, along with several other kirby artists she knows, have recently had their work stolen and used to train an AI system to generate images in their art style.

so, i just want to come out here and say if you use or support generative AI, you are not welcome on this blog. i’m not sure if i’ve been vocal enough about it despite venting my frustrations here, but this kind of thing has to stop. it is not okay. artists dedicate years to their craft and it is the biggest disrespect to throw it into a machine for some cheap imitation. i cannot imagine how devastating it feels to learn people have been using your hard work for this purpose.

AI users stay the hell away from me, keep your dirty hands off my art, and get out of this community. in a fandom of painters, writers, and artists of all kinds, why on earth would you prefer something like this? if you can’t show respect to the artists you follow, don’t engage with their work at all.

[bagels-and-cream-cheese333]

Tell me about Mona <3

SCREAMS.

This is her oooooooo hot lady ooooo are you listening EVERYBODY LISTEN UP IM FINALLY GONNA POST ABOUT MY LADY!!

just remembered that I LITERALLY have a lore paragraph abt her hold up I’ll copy n paste it

TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR BRIEF MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL ABUSE, FINANCIAL DEPENDENCE, N STALKING.

Mona’s biological dad died when she was really young (5 ish?) and her mom (whom she was super close to) started dating a reaaally toxic guy but Mona COULD NOT convince her mom that he was bad for her, when Mona was 12 her mom started to see it but had become financially dependent on him so it was kinda too late. Until one day when Mona and her stepfather got into a fight and he slapped her hard enough for her to go flying across the room. Her mom saw this and calmed and comforted her until Mona was calm enough to pack her stuff and prepare to leave. Mona and her mom left the following morning and found a cheap apartment to live. The stepfather stalked them for about a year before disappearing. If she could get revenge on anyone, she would get revenge on her stepfather. She hates him with all of her body, mind, and soul.

Yay cool stuff!! Now onto the little details stuff about her <3

She’s a lizard yokia <333

She omnisexual, pref for guys

SHE’S DATING RAPH (I have their entire relationship planned out in my head guys it’s not even funny how much I love them) tell me if you want a post just for them y’all…

she likes to call ppl nicknames based on what she thinks about them, for example raph is Pretty Boy (mmmmmmqjwwhejsmwm mmmmm) Mikey is Art Kid, Splinter is Fat Rat, Donnie is Inhaler (bc his head looks like one), and Draxum is Skinny Deer. Still pending on what to call April n Leo. She strictly calls them by their nicknames and almost never calls em by their real names and if she does, then something is 100% wrong.

Her and Raph’s relationship is lowkey kinda silly bc they both view themselves as incapable of loving without hurting the other person ^^ and they both think the other person is pure as hell and wouldn't date them if they “truly understood eachother” because they both think they deserve someone better <3

she is Masculine. She is Boyish. She is Butch. And not just as butch as Twitter can handle, as butch as physically possible and she makes Raph WEAK IN THE KNEES ABOUT IT.

she has a silly lil playlist <3

I’ll make cover art soon I prommy

She’s pretty damn strong since she works a construction job

I know we love to make Mona taller than Raph but I prefer short queen who can still make her bf do whatever she wants

PROTECTIVE OF HIM. SHE IS THE TYPE TO CALL SOMEONE UP AND THREATEN TO KILL THEIR FAMILY IF RAPH MENTIONS THEY INCONVENIENCED HIM ONCE <3

Has an extensive collection of guns

Doesn’t like people who seem fake or disingenuous or “too friendly”, she likes/has a soft spot for Raph and Mikey because they seem like genuine people who don’t try to hide anything, she can tell from how awkward Raph is that he ain’t hidin nothing

She meets him post-invasion

Her personality is very cold, shady, and steady. She doesn’t emote very strongly and has a damn good poker face. Bossy, straightforward, serious, stuff like that. But definitely don’t mistake that for her not caring, she cares to the ends of the earth about her loved ones, she just doesn’t emote very well a lot of the time.

IF I HAD TO DESCRIBE HER IN ONE WORD IT WOULD BE GIRLBOSS. IF I COULD ADD ANOTHER TWO ITD BE FEMALE RAGE. SHE IS THE DEFINITION OF FEMALE RAGE I TELL YOU

She takes a while to warm up to people typically.

she loves like fire: passionately, hotly, and with every inch of her being.

She still has a pretty close relationship with her mother.

Straight up Cannot See without her glasses

Voice claim is Garnet from Steven Universe <333

Her anger is WAY easier to ignite than her happiness

one of the first things she says to people is “my name is Mona Lisa, don’t ask why I was named after a famous painting, I don’t know either.”

SHES A GAMER SHE LOVES CALL OF DUTY AND FALLOUT AND LEAGUE OF LEGENDS AND- *gets shot*

she has road raaaggeee <3

Her and Donnie have an INSANE rivalry

often has an unimpressed air to her

She often tackles ppl to show affection :)

Sketches by my lovely friend @hiwi191 on instagram <3

she really likes bubble tea. It’s concerning.

She often brings out the most confident side of someone

@t1atam3ra knows sooooo much abt her since I’m pretyy sure she’s the first and only person I’ve talked about her to <3

ANYWAYSSSSSS THATS ALLLLLLLL <333 I’m gonna go do a personality test of her and tell y’all what she is :) BYEEEEE

@lady-inkmare since you wanted this :)

[ruined-strawb-cakes-in-arcane]

Shimmer thoughts - Analysis on Shimmer Purpose > Creation > Variants

♡˚ crediting people from twitter who helped me so much with this : @omniscient_she @ethnicallymoral @hartbrekprince @Darkroastdreams

Purpose

Initial goals of Shimmer ⤷create a substance that could provide strength and power ⤷Become a superior medicinal-healing drug

Later goals of Shimmer as the story progress: ⤷permanently enhance the human body and mind

Creation:

Shimmer was created by Singed using glowing purple flowers and biological experiments, including a rare regenerative creature named Rio. ● Flower ⤷Observed to grow in a cave and seen to be growing in Silco/Singed’s hideout in the canary as per S1E1 (could be the cold, dark, damp nature of the location) ⤷combustive when it comes to contact with fire

● Rio ⤷a unique, rare creature that possesses remarkable regenerative abilities (ArcaneWiki) Singed stated the following about Rio: S1E6 mark: 39:28 - “she’s a rare mutation I cultivated” S1E6 mark 31:52 - “The mutation must survive”

There’s no concrete evidence if Shimmer is made solely from either Rio or the flower, only that they are alluded to as the base foundations of the drug. Singed, with the help of young Viktor, was initially feeding Rio the flowers which may be the cause of mutation, therefore Rio is technically “man made” and not an organically occurring mutation. 

Still with the tubes tied to Rio glowing with the same purple essence of the flowers on the later part of the show, we can infer that Shimmer may be made by glowing flowers passing through Rio’s DNA system. 

“Shimmer could have been made by passing nectar (or a form of transformed sap) from the flowers through Rio's organs. Through the organ's natural processing (stomachs digest, kidneys remove waste and extra liquid, livers produce bile and pancreas store insulin...) the sap turns into shimmer. Or at least a proto-shimmer that is then refined by Singed  Perhaps also the Waverider microbiome within their body contains specific bacteria that break down the proteins and such contained within the flower in a different way. So it's not only the mechanical function of the organs but also the chemical function of the microbiome”

Naïa, First Chancellor's Archivist @omniscient_she

Variants:

As revealed by Singed he developed Shimmer variants, some of which are more advanced than others.v. ArcaneWiki

The existence of different variants and purity levels (even expiration) as per @Darkroastdreams thread could mean Shimmer divided as:

Variant A - For productions and distribution

Street Shimmer • Who uses it: Silco’s foot soldiers, goons, thug enforcers. • Effects: Enhances strength, pain tolerance, durability, tissue regeneration, possibly nervous system repair, resuscitation from near-death cases (makes you a walking tank) • Side effects: . Short-term: Mutations, temporary growth in size, cognitive degeneration, and aggression. Long-term: Highly addictive; physical deformities such as large tumors protruding from the skin; progressive degeneration of skin and muscle tissue. • Distribution: Mass-produced. Cheap. Dangerous. This is the version running Zaun’s black market economy.

Chembaron-grade • Who uses it: Sevika, Silco, Silco’s inner circle, possibly Singed’s own test subjects. • Effects: Similar to street shimmer, but targeted—such as enhancing strength, regeneration, durability—without major side effects (e.g., physical mutation). • Upgrades: Combined with technology (e.g., Sevika’s arm) or delivered via implants to ensure the user receives the proper dosage. • Side effects: Still risky, but shows longer-term integration.

Quoting from thread : “There are likely different purities of shimmer available for purchase on the streets of Zaun, with the highest purity coming directly from Singed (such as the type used by Silco and to revive Jinx as well as what Viktor was most likely given) and lower purities sold on the street as an illegal drug.”

DarkroastDepresso @Darkroastdreams

Note : The testing phase from S1A1 looks more like Street Shimmer as it caused Dekard to physically change, if a several drops caused physical and increased aggression to a rat then application must be equal to body weight of the user? several drop: rat/1 bottle: teenage human. We can then reason that when Caitlyn used Street Shimmer on Vi, the single drop administered was a low enough dose to mitigate the usual side effects.

Variant B - Singed’s personal research, produced personally on his lab

Prototype • Who uses it: Jinx, speculated: Singed and Warwick during his hibernation phase. • Effects: altered physiology, strength, longevity, total body mutation, heightened senses. • Thoughts : we can speculate that Jinx is the first successful human test when Singed was trying to resuscitate her.

“This appears to be a mix of variants that made Jinx the most successful experiment, preserving her through near-death resuscitation while incorporating a controlled combat strain. It aligns with Singed’s goal of reviving his daughter in a stable, powerful form. The idea that she “became Shimmer” suggests a perfected biological mutation: a proof of concept for a sentient, controllable Shimmer being without the side effects seen in Warwick.”

@ethnicallymoral 

Beta (used to combine with Hextech) • Who uses it: Viktor and speculated: Warwick during his hibernation phase. • Effects: Catalyst, longevity, pain suppression, durability, tissue regeneration, possibly nervous system repair • Goal: sustain Viktor's life to continue his research, by accelerating assisting a fusion of Shimmer and Hextech

Apex shimmer • most advanced and potent form of Shimmer—refined beyond the unstable • Who uses it: Singed and Warwick • Effects: Physical enhancement (boosts strength, speed, and resilience), life preservation (slows or halts degeneration), biological evolution. • Used for: stabilizing Warwick enough to be able to awaken him, slows degeneration by using it on Oriana and Singed • Risk: Unknown however it seems to only be suitable for individuals with strong willpower, intellect, or specific biological conditions.

Variants structure provided and assisted by @ethnicallymoral // els 

< END PERSONAL THINK THOUGHT AFTER THIS >

Is a drop enough to mutate only Silco’s eye? 

Unsure, we can speculate that he must have had other side effects aside from his eye. I’m inclined to believe that Silco must have had other changes in his body, which could be his lungs being able to withstand a greenhouse filled with a leaking tank of the Grey. Not only is Silco a heavy smoker but he also worked in the mines infested with the Grey, which could have caused long term lung damage, but we never see Silco cough nor does he exhibit any lung issues. 

Also, we first have to know what variant he had been dozing on and if he switched to the purified healing variant once Singed is able to concoct other variations of Shimmer.  

Have we ever thought of the possibility that silco is the first human test of Singed due to the nature of his injuries? I have.

Does it affect Silco’s cum quality? I.e. taste, potency, color A: Because Silco seems to have been using the Variant A - street shimmer from s1A1 and could have been using it since the prototype version we can guess that there maybe changes to his body, if not externally like his eye then internally. We can also see Silco's tear as violet in here.

2. Does it help with his bedroom performance (Physical endurance during sex AND Shorter refractory period) Again Again there maybe changes to his body if not externally like his eye then internally. Despite his age, injuries and past history (starvation, exposure to the Gray) we can see Silco crashout as him having exhibiting strength, this could point out that : Yes, Silco does have stamina No proof in regards to refractory period

3. Does Shimmer give him erectile dysfunction? Given that one of shimmer's main goal and coveted effects are tissue regeneration, possibly nervous system repair, AKA HEALING AND SLOWING/HALTING DEGENERATION and Silco's long term use, then we can reason that he has no erectile dysfunction

[elliespassagerprincess]

Hiii! Could you please write something about Ellie and reader who met online (they can both be streamers maybe?) and then ended up dating and moving in together? Like inspired by the song “no one noticed” by the marias and that lyric “fly to your city, excited to see your face”!!

ANYWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH!! Ur writing actually makes my day!

Headcannons: streamer!ellie williams x streamer!reader

hi anon!! you're welcome and also thank you sm<333

masterlist

☆ Ellie stumbled across your Twitch stream late one night while scrolling through smaller creators. You were playing a horror game, screaming every five minutes, and she was immediately obsessed.

☆ She followed you anonymously at first, not wanting to come off as a bigger name being weird. But you noticed her in chat eventually. “Wait, is that the EllieWilliamsTV?”

☆ Your first DMs started with memes and escalated to 2 a.m. voice chats about life, mental health, and favorite comfort foods.

☆ Neither of you realized how frequently you were texting until you started finishing each other’s tweets.

☆ The fandom caught on fast. Shipping edits flooded TikTok and Twitter before either of you were even flirting openly.

☆ Ellie had a secret folder of screenshots of your selfies and stream clips—your laugh made her heart do dangerous things.

☆ You designed matching stream overlays and helped her revamp her “About Me” section with inside jokes.

☆ The first time you did a collab stream, your viewers spammed “GET MARRIED” and “chemistry off the charts.”

☆ Ellie would go dead silent if you leaned into the mic and whispered something like, “Ellie, you still alive over there?”

☆ You’d hear her typing furiously during stream, then get a Discord ping: “I think I’m in love with you. BRB, pretending I’m not.”

☆ There was a running joke that you were long-distance girlfriends even before either of you confessed.

☆ Your playlists on Spotify started to sync. Sad indie for slow days, hype pop for collabs. Ellie would listen to your mixes when she missed you.

☆ She started calling you “sunbeam” in private because you were always so bright on call, even when exhausted.

☆ Ellie’s hands would tremble the first time you sent a voice note laughing. She replayed it eight times.

☆ The confession didn’t happen on stream—it happened at 4 a.m. when you both admitted you were too scared to lose each other.

☆ Ellie buys a cheap flight the moment you tell her, “I wish you were here.” No hesitation.

☆ She sends you a picture of the boarding pass with a simple caption: “fly to your city, excited to see your face.”

☆ You meet at the airport, both pretending to be chill, but when you lock eyes—it’s instant. You run to her.

☆ You wear her hoodie the entire first week she visits. It smells like vanilla and her skin.

☆ She clutches your pinky while you walk in public like she’s trying to memorize your existence.

☆ The first night, you stay up watching dumb YouTube videos cuddled into her chest. She can’t stop looking at you.

☆ Ellie always brings your favorite snacks in her suitcase like it’s a survival kit.

☆ She leaves little Polaroids in your apartment every time she leaves—on your desk, mirror, and even in your hoodie pocket.

☆ FaceTime calls while you cook together long-distance. Ellie burns things often, but you laugh anyway.

☆ Shared playlists labeled “When I Miss You” and “When You Can’t Sleep.”

☆ You stream with a beanie she left behind. Your followers go wild every time you wear it.

☆ Ellie keeps your perfume in her drawer. She sprays her pillow with it when she’s feeling needy.

☆ You both fall asleep on call more often than not. Ellie mumbles your name before she dozes off.

☆ Postcards from cities she visits—even if you just talked that day.

☆ Pet names over text: “baby,” “bean,” “sweet girl,” “trouble.”

☆ You each get matching controller skins and call them your “love language.”

☆ Ellie’s hoodie becomes your sleep uniform. You start twitch streaming in it regularly.

☆ She sends you a handmade bracelet. Yours says “don’t log off.” Hers says “stay.”

☆ She learns to bake just to make cookies for the next time she visits.

☆ She cries the second time she leaves—but only after you're gone.

☆ You tell her “I found a place. It’s ours if you want it.” She replies, “When can I come home?”

☆ Moving day is a chaotic montage of plants, monitors, controllers, tangled cords, and pizza.

☆ First night in the new apartment: you eat instant ramen and fall asleep on the couch wrapped in one blanket.

☆ You get matching mugs that say “her player 1” and “her player 2.”

☆ She sets up both your stream rooms, cable-managing everything meticulously.

☆ Her side of the room has sketchbooks and a photo of you. Your side has a sticky note: “look at me when you’re nervous.”

☆ Grocery shopping is now a chaotic love language. You argue over cereal and kiss in the snack aisle.

☆ You cook together, dance barefoot in the kitchen, music playing low.

☆ Ellie insists on fixing things around the apartment even if she has no clue what she’s doing.

☆ First thunderstorm together—you curl into her side while she rubs your back and whispers, “you’re safe.”

☆ You accidentally fall asleep on her during a 12-hour stream. She ends it early, kisses your forehead, and carries you to bed.

☆ Lazy Sundays become sacred: cartoons, pancakes, and soft giggles under blankets.

☆ Ellie has a habit of leaving sticky notes around the house: “drink water,” “you’re gorgeous,” “I love you.”

☆ You both adopt a cat named Wifi. Wifi loves Ellie more. You pretend to be mad.

☆ She starts signing off her streams with “goodnight, from me and my girl.”

☆ You make a joint YouTube channel. Fans adore your dynamic.

☆ Ellie builds you a custom PC for your birthday. Your background? A candid photo of her asleep in your lap.

☆ You buy a couch that’s way too big—just so you can cuddle in the middle of it.

☆ When she travels for cons, you send her off with a hoodie that smells like you.

☆ You kiss her on camera once and break the internet.

☆ Rainy days are now movie marathons, sketching on each other’s skin with washable markers.

☆ You have a shared “comfort drawer” filled with heating pads, snacks, notes, and lavender oil.

☆ Ellie sometimes stares at you from across the room like she still can’t believe you’re real.

☆ She writes your initials into the underside of her desk. Quiet and sacred.

☆ You fall asleep tangled up after stream marathons, mumbling about build updates and DLCs.

☆ Your bookshelf holds photo albums titled: “long-distance,” “airport hugs,” “us now.”

☆ Ellie builds a playlist titled “the sound of loving you” and never shares it publicly. It’s only for you.

☆ You get into dumb arguments about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza. She lets you win.

☆ She draws you in her sketchbook almost daily. You find one where she labeled it “my forever face.”

☆ You both get matching tattoos—small controller icons on your wrists.

☆ Ellie proposes during a shared anniversary stream. You cry too hard to say yes for a full minute.

☆ Your apartment walls become covered in fan art people send. You hang everything.

☆ Wifi sleeps at the foot of your bed while you both dream of each other.

☆ Every time she says “home,” she means you.

☆ “Fly to your city, excited to see your face” becomes your wedding vow—because she never stopped flying to you.

[tofupixel]

Hey tofu! I was just wondering as a fellow artist, how did you grow your following? What's your journey man.

hii

the first socials i had was instagram i think. originally it was for my personal photos and stuff but i changed it when i started doing pixel art. that was 6 ish years ago (i wasnt very good then)

3 or 4 years ago i signed up to twitter and started taking art a bit more seriously (covid happened and i had no job)

oh yeah and i was also doing commissions on fiverr for stupidly cheap. i dont recommend that. but i was working all the time back then and drawing day and night to make ends meet. and i saw a lot of improvement in those years because it was basically all i did

i dont really know / think i did anything unique to grow my following to be honest. i dont think there is anything special about me. i just did a lot of art and posted a lot. i had no issue with posting stuff that isnt finished or if i dont think its that great. i think not being a perfectionist really helps in the social media ecosystem

if anyone wants any tips or advice for socials lmk but i just dont take it that seriously and post and have fun :--3c

so yeah thats me im just a girl 🌸

[okenki]

hello, hello! i'm ken and i love to create! i make this post to compile my works and where you can find them!

most of my comics are free and on comicfury! comicfury profile you can support comicfury on patreon and kofi!

___ my ongoing projects are: goth boyfriends

"goths? in your area?! more likely than you think! Follow the trials and tribulations of young adults wanna be goths as they navigate through life, love and... cringe! slam poetry sundays, queer self discovery and complicated friendships, all wrapped in spikes, crosses, leather and anything dark, cool & edgy really!"

updates: every 3 days

it also have a tumblr blog for it, i'll try to use it more for extra art and such and share updates! : )

more under the cut!

MSAT

Music Sounds Awesome Together is a collection of one shots centred around the life of a few idiots phasing through time and space together. Includes a LOT of yappin', you have no idea.

updates: no schedules (it has some characters in common with "goth boyfriends", but except their names, sometimes appearances and some personality traits they are not the same at all. Sorry if it is confusing)

completed/one shots (it's a selection, but i have more, you can even find really sort one on the comics tag of my tumblr)

-dreamteam69 "The last match of the Dream Team..." for the 2019's edition of the 23h de la Bande Dessinée

-LUNNARP a bts fancomic "Yoongi vs. an IKEA table ft. 6 idiots"

-PigritiAdes The Adventures of Fleur and her Demon. for the 2018's edition of the 25h de la Bande Dessinée

you can find more comics on my itchio, compiled as pdf, a lot of fanzines, most of them free! and if you're cursed with the ability to understand french, i did a lot of 23h et 25h de la bande dessinée! name there is okenki as well!

i also made some games! mostly during game jams, all are free! they're all vns and can also be found on my itchio! i am very active on tumblr, comicfury, often post projects on itchio, i can be spotted on bluesky, and that's about it! deleted my art instagram and my account on whatever happened to twitter a long time ago. i'm mostly reachable via my pro email: okenkibox[at]gmail.com. i reply to comments on tumblr's post also if you have questions on a specific post if asks are closed! other places i very often miss messages! you can support me on patreon and have access to secret sketchbook monthly! i have over 50 available now! you can pledge a month, get them all and dip, i'm fine with that. other than that i very often have commissions on kofi, they are usually very cheap because they're very basic! :) thank you!! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ have a nice day!

PS! i have a FAQ and contact pages, i don’t know if you can access them on mobile/the app, so to sum it up:

please do not repost/reupload my work, especially not without credit, i’d appreciate if you could ask first. for personal use (icon, banner, printing for personal scrapbooking, .. anything you make no profit with) is ok! if applicable (icon, banner) please do credit and link back to either my blog or my carrd.

my art is never oriented to mean harm to anyone. please keep in mind english is not a language i’m very good with, i might make mistake or misunderstand, but it’s never malicious or vicious. thank you.

[th3-c0ll3ct3r]

Vtuber fans... We're going through it dawg... Michi Mochievee, forgive me for I have doubted when you said that it was hard to trust people in the vtuber industry. "what could go wrong?" I thought. I WAS BUT A FUCKING FOOL.

So basically, Nano (an artists) who was previously employed by Sinder came out with a Google Doc basically detailing th following (also for clarity Sinder's manager is called [ redacted] but it is her manager to which you later confirms:

>Sinder and her manager were intentionally using manipulative tactics and behaviour to isolate Nano into becoming someone who exclusively works for that

> intentionally sabotaging other people projects

>encouraging Nano to be ruder and charge more money for their services, even though Nano was trying to be nice and give sample out for cheap/free to other trusted clients

>intentionally wanting to sabotage Bao The Whale, and other notable vtubers ( who have yet to speak out and that's why I'm not gonna talk about them) by encouraging Nano to charge more and even cancel projects all together to prioritise Sinder

>Isolating Nano and other artists so that they exclusively work with her after Bao "stole one of her editors"

>Manipulations and gaslighting.

Post by Nano here:

https://x.com/Nanoless_/status/1916005023646916910?t=7KA0YUai6dnYn1SoYZ20MA&s=19

Some other artists as well as other vtubers have shown their support and shared someone their experiences thinking it was a "normal part of the industry"

Bao The Whale, creating a response post basically going through everything that was set in the documents and somethings to note:

>The video editor independently chose to be exclusive to her to which she was very supportive but also encouraged them to work and other projects if necessary

> she has never once Sabotage someone else's work intentional and she didn't know that editor worked with Sinder previously

>Both her and other but especially Numi are heartbroken, confused and overwhelmed by the situation because they just found it that Sinder and her manager has been intentionally sabotaging projects they've been doing for a number of months and maybe even year(s). Leading to the question of how many smaller or larger project did Snider or her manager intentionally sabotage to gain leeway?

> following on for the previous point, Sinder sees vtuber as "just for business", which is quoted saying in Nano and another doc. Meaning that she was sabotaging people for profit. So think back to all the times they'd been "scammed" or overcharged in the past. All the times they'd been ghosted. Because in Nano doc, it's implied that Sinder wanted Nano to essentially prioritise her and ghost everyone else

Bao post here:

https://x.com/baovtuber/status/1916006443242639566?t=lFbskdh3PfiRGDrGqhoXTQ&s=19

Since then both the editor and channel manager of Bao have confirmed both independently of each other that she encouraged them to take other opportunities if necessary or wanted.

Since this Sinder has posted her own reply shifting the blame on her manager, but still apologising. Additionally she's the number 1 trending in the US on twitter right now

Here you can see the confirmation of him being her manager and how she's throwing them under the bus.

THE TOP REPLY HOWEVER is from someone who played games with them in the past, and has said (with many other sources saying it's true) that her "manager" is her boyfriend. Which makes even more sense as to why she'd want people exclusively for them.

The running joke being that "you'd fire the manager but keep the boyfriend?"

It also saved her a significant amount of money, because she didn't really need to pay her boyfriend. So for her to then turn around and then encourage people to charge double what she pays knowing they're paying out of pocket for EVERYTHING themselves is even worse

So yeahhhhhhh...