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nhmkhnh · 1 month ago

Text

velvet boundaries.

pairings: caitlyn x fem!reader

preface: in a house where she’s your best friend’s mother and you were never meant to be hers, caitlyn makes you unravel one obedient breath at a time.

author's note: alright mama cait is here! enjoy, my girls.

wrn: lowercase ;; age gap (c: 39 ; r: 19)

navigation.

it’s a slow summer afternoon, all clinking glasses and polite laughter in the spacious backyard of the kiramman estate. you’re there because your best friend invited you—of course—but you didn’t expect her mother to look like that.

caitlyn stands by the hedges in a sleek navy sundress that hugs her waist too perfectly for someone "just turned thirty-nine." she’s pouring champagne into a flute, head tilted, soft smile gracing her lips as she chats with a family friend. but her eyes—her eyes are already on you.

she doesn’t smile when your eyes meet. doesn’t look away, either. it’s not flirtatious. it’s worse. it’s clinical. calculating. like she’s just filed something about you away.

you try to ignore it, to keep talking to her daughter like normal, but every time you glance over, she’s still watching you. unbothered. bold. one hand on her hip, thumb grazing the rim of her glass in lazy circles.

at one point, when your friend disappears inside for snacks, caitlyn walks up beside you. doesn’t say hi. doesn’t introduce herself.

“i don’t recall you dressing like this the last time you visited,” she murmurs, voice low and unimpressed, eyes flicking over your outfit.

you blink, stammer something about borrowed clothes, but she’s already turning away.

“i see,” caitlyn says, with that maddening hint of a smirk. “well. it suits you.”

and then she’s gone. just like that.

but her voice? her gaze? the deliberate slowness of her walk?

you feel it burn in the pit of your stomach for the rest of the day.

your best friend’s texting someone on the couch, completely distracted, so she barely notices when her mom walks back into the living room after a phone call.

“it’s going to rain soon,” caitlyn says casually, looking at the window. then she turns to you. “you’ll stay for dinner.”

it’s not a question. you blink.

“oh—uh, only if it’s okay, i don’t wanna—”

“i said you’ll stay.”

you can feel your friend nudge you with her elbow, like yeah, that’s just how her mom talks. but there’s something in caitlyn’s tone that makes you sit straighter.

dinner is tense in ways it shouldn't be. caitlyn sits across from you at the long oak table. you try not to stare, but she’s in a blouse now, crisp and fitted, one button too low. her fingers cradle a wine glass, slow and deliberate, the same way her gaze moves down your face like she’s sizing you up—again.

your friend’s chatting with a mouthful of pasta. caitlyn ignores her entirely. she only speaks when she’s addressing you.

“so, darling—” that word makes you stiffen “—what are you studying these days?”

your voice catches halfway through your answer. not because of nerves, but because caitlyn interrupts, cutting right through the sentence with a soft, “that doesn’t suit you.”

you blink. “what?”

she sips her wine, eyes not leaving yours. “you don’t strike me as the type to follow rules. i imagine you’d get bored.”

there’s a silence. even your best friend looks up, confused.

caitlyn just smiles. “dessert?”

later, as you get ready to leave, your friend runs upstairs to grab her umbrella. you’re alone in the foyer with caitlyn, who’s helping you into your coat.

“you should visit more often,” she says, voice soft against your ear as she adjusts your collar, fingers brushing a little too slowly down your shoulders. “there’s something… refreshing about you.”

you don’t say anything. you can’t.

she opens the door for you, lets the cool air hit your skin before adding one last thing:

“don’t keep me waiting too long, dear.”

your best friend’s in the middle of a meltdown—midterms, boy drama, caffeine withdrawals—and she practically begs you to sleep over for emotional support. you agree. of course. because you’re kind. loyal.

and maybe, just maybe, because you haven’t stopped thinking about her mother’s voice all week.

the house is warm. the lights are low. your best friend’s already curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and deep into some trashy reality show.

“wait, can you grab my charger from upstairs?” she mumbles. “i left it in my mom’s room. top drawer.”

you hesitate.

but you go.

caitlyn’s bedroom door is slightly ajar when you reach the second floor. you knock, soft, but there’s no answer.

and then she says it—from somewhere inside:

“come in. i need a hand.”

you push the door open.

she’s standing at her vanity in a silk robe, back half-turned, one arm behind her trying (and failing?) to zip up a long dress.

her eyes catch yours in the mirror.

“zipper,” she says simply. “would you?”

you step behind her like you’re dreaming. her perfume is soft, sharp, familiar—like amber and velvet. her bare shoulder is warm under your fingers.

the zipper is smooth, but slow. too slow. and caitlyn doesn't move an inch. she just watches you in the mirror.

“your hands are cold,” she murmurs. “nervous?”

you don’t answer.

when the zipper reaches the top, she places her hand over yours, holds it there for a breath too long.

“there,” she says, finally turning around. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

you stammer something about the charger. she smiles and reaches into the drawer behind her, placing it in your palm—slow, deliberate.

as you step back toward the hallway, she speaks again. soft. amused.

“you should knock louder next time, sweetheart. or someone might mistake you for a voyeur.”

you don’t sleep well that night. you dream of silk and zippers and the sharp sound of your own breath.

you show up to brunch with your best friend wearing a soft cream sweater—something new, something that makes you feel… noticed. and you are.

the moment you step into the kitchen, caitlyn’s already leaning against the counter with a black mug in hand, nails polished, gaze unreadable. she looks you up and down once, then twice. the air shifts.

“that color looks good on you,” she says, voice low. “makes you look… sweet.”

you murmur a thanks, trying not to flinch under the weight of her stare. but she’s not done.

“i remember wearing something like that when i was your age.” she steps closer, casual. “though i never pulled it off quite so…” her eyes flick to your lips. “innocently.”

you freeze.

she sets her mug down—soft ceramic on marble—and brushes past you to the fridge. close enough that her shoulder glides along yours. close enough that your skin feels branded.

your best friend walks in mid-tension, yawning and stretching.

caitlyn doesn’t miss a beat. “i was just telling your friend how well she’s growing into her figure.”

your friend blinks. you nearly choke.

“mom.”

“what?” caitlyn shrugs. “i meant it as a compliment.”

but her eyes are still on you. calm. knowing.

later, while your friend goes to the bathroom, caitlyn walks past the table where you sit alone. she pauses behind your chair. one hand settles on your shoulder—light, but unmistakably firm.

“you do like compliments, don’t you?” she whispers.

you don’t turn around. you can’t.

but you feel her smile against the back of your neck before she walks away.

it starts innocently.

your friend’s mom invites you to stay for dinner again—some sort of semi-formal thing, wine glasses and roasted duck and linen napkins. you wear something nice this time. you don’t know why. maybe you do.

but the zipper at the back of your dress? it’s stuck.

your best friend’s already downstairs, yelling about how you’re going to be late, when caitlyn appears in the doorway to your guest room.

“problem?” she asks, tone deceptively casual.

you give her a sheepish look. “it won’t budge.”

caitlyn’s already walking toward you before you finish the sentence. her heels make no sound on the carpet.

“turn around.”

you obey.

her fingers graze your back first—cool and careful. the first tug is mechanical. but the second? the second one lingers.

“poor craftsmanship,” she murmurs. “a dress like this should glide open. don’t you think?”

you swallow. “it’s supposed to.”

“then hold still. let me.”

you don’t breathe as she works.

her knuckles trail your spine like a line being drawn. her breath grazes your shoulder. she doesn't speak again, but she doesn't rush either.

when the zipper finally gives, caitlyn’s hand doesn’t fall away.

instead, she rests her palm flat between your shoulder blades, grounding. possessive. like she’s checking your pulse.

“you should’ve asked for help earlier,” she says, voice so low it curls in your stomach. “it’s what i’m here for.”

you face her—slow, unsure. but she’s already turned away.

“i’ll be downstairs,” she says over her shoulder. “don’t take too long.”

you stand there in your half-zipped dress, heart in your throat, knowing damn well she didn’t just unzip fabric.

she’s unzipping you.

it’s late. your best friend’s gone out—date night, something forgettable—but you stayed behind. said you were tired. said you had studying to do.

caitlyn knocks on your door just past ten.

you open it, blinking at her silhouette. silk robe. bare legs. a glass of red in her hand.

“i made tea,” she says, but she doesn’t offer it.

instead, she studies you for a long moment, then tilts her head toward the hallway. “come with me.”

you follow without thinking.

she leads you into her study. a soft-lit room full of dark wood, leather-bound books, and shadows that feel too heavy for the hour. she sets the wine down, walks behind the desk, gestures toward the chair in front of it.

“sit.”

you do.

she pours herself another glass, deliberate and silent. then she leans back in her chair, crosses one leg over the other, and studies you with those cool, assessing eyes.

“you’re very obedient when it counts,” she says, swirling her wine.

you shift in the chair. “i just didn’t want to be rude.”

“oh, i don’t mind rudeness,” she replies. “but hesitation? that disappoints me.”

you don’t know where to look.

caitlyn takes a slow sip, eyes never leaving yours.

“do you know what i see when i look at you?”

you shake your head.

“i see someone waiting to be told what she’s allowed to want.”

you suck in a breath.

she leans forward now, elbows on the desk, voice velvet-soft. “if you were mine, i wouldn’t make you guess.”

you don’t speak. can’t.

she smiles—small, amused. like she knows.

“still,” she says, standing, walking toward you. “let’s call this practice.”

she sets her glass down beside yours, then tips your chin up with two fingers.

“stay right there. don’t move.”

you stay.

she walks away.

you shouldn’t be wearing the dress.

it’s too short. too tight. too low. your best friend picked it out for a party she’s dragging you to tonight, but you knew the second you pulled it on: it wasn’t about the party.

it was about being seen.

specifically—by her.

you’re halfway down the stairs when caitlyn looks up from the foyer, eyes locking on your legs first, then climbing higher.

her lips part slightly. she doesn't smile.

“going out?” she asks, voice like warm velvet wrapped in glass.

you nod, nerves prickling. “with your daughter.”

“i see that.”

she takes a step closer. you should keep walking. you don’t.

she circles once, slow and precise, her heels echoing lightly against the wood floor. then she stops in front of you, fingertips brushing the hem of your dress. barely there.

“this fabric’s so thin,” she murmurs. “one wrong breeze and—”

you inhale sharply.

caitlyn tilts her head.

“did you wear this for her? or for me?”

you can’t answer. your pulse is hammering. she knows it.

she steps in closer—too close—until her hand is at the small of your back and your bodies are a breath apart.

“show me,” she says softly.

you blink. “show you… what?”

“what it looks like when you beg with your eyes.”

you freeze.

she leans down, mouth near your ear, breath warm. “you already know how.”

then the door bursts open—your best friend yelling something about being late—and the moment snaps in two.

caitlyn steps back, calm as ever. like nothing happened. but before she walks away, she murmurs, only for you:

“fix your lipstick, darling. it’s smudged.”

it wasn’t. until you bit your lip.

it’s another quiet evening in the kiramman house. your best friend’s asleep upstairs—headphones in, lights off. you’re in the kitchen, barefoot in shorts and an old tee, pouring a glass of water and trying to stop thinking about how caitlyn looked at you earlier.

but then—

she walks in.

silk robe. hair pinned up. a glass of something darker than wine in her hand.

“can’t sleep?” she asks.

you shake your head, your voice caught somewhere in your throat. “just… thirsty.”

she walks over to the kitchen island and sets her glass down, slow. controlled. then she leans against the counter and nods at the stool across from her.

“sit.”

you obey. you always do.

she watches you for a long moment. then—

“put your hands on the table.”

your brows pull together, confused. “what?”

caitlyn’s voice doesn’t rise. it doesn’t have to.

“hands. flat. right in front of you.”

you hesitate—only for a second. but she sees it. and that pleases her.

you set your hands down.

she steps closer. walks around the island, until she’s behind you.

you feel her breath at your ear. “you follow instructions well. i like that about you.”

her hands brush over your shoulders, then slide forward until they’re ghosting above your wrists. not touching. not yet.

“but do you know how to stay still?”

you inhale. shallow.

she presses her palm down over your right hand. just one. not hard—but enough to anchor you there.

“i could ask anything of you right now,” she whispers. “and you’d listen. wouldn’t you?”

you nod.

“no,” she corrects gently. “use your words.”

“yes,” you breathe.

“good girl.”

her free hand traces your jaw, slow. her thumb skims your bottom lip. it lingers.

“keep your hands right where they are,” she murmurs. “no matter what i do.”

and then she leans down—kisses the corner of your mouth.

just once. barely there.

but you feel it like heat spreading through your spine.

she straightens, glides her fingers off yours, and walks away without another word.

you sit there for ten more minutes. hands on the table. shaking.

the rain’s falling outside, soft and rhythmic. your friend went to spend the night with her girlfriend, and caitlyn—well, caitlyn said she was staying in. you offered to help her tidy the guest wing before bed.

now you’re here. in her room.

you shouldn’t be. but you are.

you’re holding a stack of freshly folded towels when she steps out of her ensuite bathroom—hair down, skin dewy, dressed in an impossibly sheer black satin nightgown that clings like second skin. the light behind her frames her in gold.

you freeze.

she doesn’t.

“towels?” she murmurs, stepping closer.

you nod. your throat’s dry. “you said you needed fresh ones…”

“i did,” she says, taking them from your hands and setting them aside. “but now i need something else.”

she doesn’t touch you. not yet. but her eyes devour every inch—down your bare legs, up the line of your throat, resting finally on your parted lips.

“you shouldn’t walk around here dressed like that,” she murmurs. “not if you don’t want to be—”

her fingers find your chin. tilt it upward.

“—watched.”

your lips part. you forget what you were going to say.

caitlyn steps in closer, her body brushing yours. “tell me the truth, darling. did you wear this hoping i’d see?”

you shake your head. then nod. then can’t decide. your breath stumbles.

she smiles.

“honesty looks good on you.”

she walks around behind you, fingertips grazing your waist as she passes.

“i’m going to ask you once,” she says, voice velvet over steel. “just once.”

you turn, eyes wide. waiting.

“are you mine for the evening?”

silence.

your heart’s beating so loud you’re sure she can hear it.

then you say it.

“yes.”

she exhales—low and pleased. walks to her nightstand, takes a small black velvet ribbon from the drawer. loops it around her fingers.

“good girl.”

she gestures to the foot of her bed.

“sit.”

you do.

she walks over slowly. takes her time. then bends slightly, ties the ribbon loosely around your wrist.

“this isn’t to restrain,” she says, brushing a kiss over your knuckles. “it’s to remind.”

“remind me of what?” you whisper.

“that tonight, you belong to me.”

it starts with the ribbon.

you still wear it sometimes when you're alone—just to remember. but tonight, caitlyn sees it. wrapped loose around your wrist beneath your sweater sleeve as you help her carry dishes into the kitchen.

she doesn’t comment.

not yet.

later, when the house is quiet and your best friend’s asleep across the hall, she finds you standing at the window in the guest room, moonlight casting silver along your skin.

her voice is quiet behind you.

“you wore it for me, didn’t you?”

you don’t turn around. you nod.

caitlyn closes the door.

you hear the soft sound of her heels across the wood floor. you hear your own heartbeat in your throat.

then her hand slides up your arm from behind—slow, deliberate—until her fingers find the ribbon and tug.

it unravels, whisper-soft.

she pulls it free and loops it around her fingers once more.

“i gave this to remind you who you belong to,” she murmurs at your ear. “but it’s not enough anymore.”

you swallow hard. “what do you want?”

“i want you to say it.”

she turns you around gently, backs you toward the wall until you’re caged between her arms.

“say who owns you,” she says, so close her breath fans over your cheek. “say it with your mouth.”

your lips part. nothing comes out.

so she leans down, kisses your jaw. your neck. your collarbone.

“you want to please me,” she whispers. “i can feel it. i can hear it in every breath.”

then her hand slides beneath your sweater, gliding up your spine.

“be brave for me. say it.”

your legs shake. you’re dizzy with want.

then finally—

“you,” you whisper.

she hums, pleased. but not done.

“louder.”

you blink, dazed. “you.”

she cups your jaw. “say my name.”

“caitlyn.”

she inhales like she’s waited a hundred years to hear that from your lips.

then she kisses you. deep and slow and unforgiving.

when she finally pulls away, your sweater’s wrinkled, your breath’s stolen, and the ribbon’s in her pocket.

“mine,” she says, smiling darkly. “and you’ll keep saying it. every night i make you feel this way.”

#caitlyn x reader #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn arcane #arcane

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lascvitae · 2 months ago

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DREAMIN’ ✵ AERI UCHINAGA.

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ alt. I MUST BE DREAMIN’ .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ aeri calls you over to the studio when she can’t focus, but you prove to be far more distracting than anything else.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. giselle x fem!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. smut (18+) ᝰ.ᐟ warning(s). dom aeri, pet names (love, baby, pretty girl, pretty baby), choking (but not really), cunnilingus (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), slight rough sex, praising, overstimulation, thigh riding, aeri records your moans :dizzy:

ᝰ.ᐟ word count 2k

ᝰ.ᐟ katty: requested by shawty bae but okay next post make you mine part 3 (maybe)

masterlist.

YOUR PHONE BUZZED against your nightstand for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

aeri <3

what are u doingggggggggg

i’m lonely

dopamine is killing my brain

come over or i’ll die ):

you rolled your eyes but couldn't fight the smile stretching across your face. there was another buzz — a facetime call this time.

you picked it up and were immediately greeted by aeri’s pouty face, glasses slightly tilted. she was wrapped in an oversized hoodie that you were definitely going to steal later.

"you look insane.” you teased immediately.

"please, baby. i’m literally losing my mind. i need moral support. and food.” she tugged the hoodie tighter around herself.

“you just want some food.”

“nuh uh!”

“mmmhmm. you’re using me.” you rolled your eyes.

“i would never.”

you continued to put on your shoes. "you’re lucky you’re hot."

"luck got nothing to do with it, baby.” she blew you a kiss before hanging up.

you navigated the quiet, dimly lit hallways of sm, holding a brown paper bag of late night convenience store junk food. the building was practically abandoned at this hour except for maybe a few exhausted producers and maybe a trainee passed out in one of the practice rooms.

when you pushed open the door to the studio, you found aeri exactly as you imagined her.

she was slouched in the chair like she was bored, hoodie almost swallowing her entire body. you could see her sneakers kicked off under the desk.

"delivery for the world’s neediest girlfriend.” you announced while stepping inside.

her head snapped up immediately, whole face lighting up.

she scrambled out of the chair and towards you in like two seconds, throwing her arms around you so hard you almost dropped the bag.

"you’re my hero.” she mumbled into your shoulder.

you laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. "but you owe me.”

she pulled back enough to smirk at you. "i’ll pay you back. in kisses.”

"you better." you said, leaning down to kiss her quickly.

you settled on the couch, watching as she took a bite of the snack you brought. chips, half squashed candy bars, a sandwich? and dramatically groaned like it was the best thing she ever ate.

"i’m saving your life right now. this is basically charity work.” you said while lounging back, one leg hooked over the other.

"i’m gonna put you in the credits. special thanks to my sexy, generous, perfect girlfriend.” aeri mumbled with a mouthful of chips.

"damn right."

silence passed over while she chewed and you scrolled through your phone. the studio was lit by the monitor's glow and the leds on buttons and knobs you knew absolutely nothing about. but aeri did and you admired her for it.

"wanna hear something?” she asked suddenly, adjusting some of the buttons.

“always.” you perked up immediately, tucking your phone away.

she fiddled with the buttons some more and an addictive beat filled the room. it intrigued you immediately. you watched the way she bobbed her head to it she was effortless even in the middle of the night. even with a few crumbs on her lap.

your chest tightened.

"this is so good, baby.” you said honestly, shifting so you could see her better.

aeri flushed, smiling as she twisted her chair slightly. "it’s missing something."

"what?"

"you."

you smiled, pushing yourself up off the couch. "smooth."

"learned from the best."

you wandered over, hands sliding onto her shoulders and kneading gently. she hummed, leaning back into your touch.

"mm, 's not fair. you’re distracting me.” she said quietly.

"not doing anything.” you teased, squeezing her tighter. you bent down to press a kiss behind her ear, smiling when she shivered.

“stop. you know what that mouth does to me.” she whined, tilting her head back to look at you upside down.

"maybe you need a break.” you whispered against her temple, smiling when her hands reached for you.

she tugged you closer, and before you could blink you were straddling her, sinking into her lap. the chair squeaked under the both of you.

"jesus.” she breathed out, hands immediately gripping your thighs, your waist. anywhere she could touch.

she lifted her thigh up into you and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet whimper. a quiet whimper that she caught.

"you sound so pretty.” she murmured, voice low against your neck.

“wonder how pretty you’d sound on the track."

you bit your lip.

"make those noises for me. let them hear.” she whispered.

your heart stuttered. you kissed her — it was messy, hot, and a little desperate. your fingers thread through her hair and pull on the pink locks lightly. she moaned into your mouth, nails digging into your hips.

the music still played in the background, beat pulsing through the room as the air between you melted together.

aeri broke the kiss only to trail her lips down your jaw, your throat, nipping lightly. you rocked in her lap, gasping when she ground her thigh up into you.

you tugged her hoodie off her head with clumsy fingers, giggling when her hair stuck out in all directions. aeri grinned up at you with pink cheeks.

"stop looking at me like that.” you breathed, rocking down a little harder.

she cursed low under her breath, fingers tightening around your waist before she leaned forward to create a new track.

"can't help it. you’re like a fucking dream.” she said.

her words made you feel drunker than any drink could. you kissed her again, slower this time. it was deeper and it stretched out until your lungs burned. aeri’s hands roamed under your shirt beginning to trail light, teasing touches across your spine that made you shiver.

"so sensitive.” she teased, voice raspier now. she nipped at your bottom lip when you pouted. but your stomach dropped and you had heat rushing through you.

you continued to grind on her thigh and her hand came up to lightly tug around your throat, making you whimper.

“aeri…” you moaned out. she pulled you closer by your throat, kissing you messily while you rocked on her lap.

"there’s my girl.” she whispered as you pulled away, rocking her hips up deliberately and slowly.

"up.” she said roughly.

you pouted.

she gave a low laugh. “come on, baby. be good."

you barely had time to react before she gripped your hips and lifted you, manhandling you off her lap — making you stumble back into the chair clumsily, arms flailing to catch yourself.

"aeri—"

but she was already dropping to her knees between your legs, hungry and determined.

"fuck, look at you.” she murmured, dragging your shorts down your legs, tossing them somewhere across the studio carelessly.

you whimpered, legs instinctively trying to close but aeri was faster — hands firm on your knees, spreading you open wide for her.

"god, you're dripping.” she breathed, almost in awe.

you squirmed helplessly under her gaze, cheeks burning.

she smiled before reaching over. without breaking eye contact, she hit the red record button on the track.

“make those noises for me, love.”

you barely had time to process before her mouth was on you, and your head slammed back against the chair with a helpless whimper.

your hands tried to grip the armrest but settled on aeri’s hair instead. she groaned low against you at the first taste, the vibration going straight through your spine.

“aeri—” you gasped, already trembling under her touch.

she just groaned low against you, like she was savoring you, and the vibration made your hips jerk up without permission.

you felt the way she smirked against your skin.

"so greedy." she muttered.

you were desperate and overwhelmed, you tried to squeeze your legs shut but aeri’s hands shot up, gripping your thighs with a bruising force. she pried them back open roughly, leaving you exposed and trembling.

"no. you don’t get to hide from me. not when you’re this pretty.” she said, voice thick with want.

you whimpered, the raw need in her voice sending a full body shudder through you.

"keep those legs open, love. and let me hear you.” she commanded, punctuating it with a flick of her tongue against your clit.

the music pulsed, lost under the wet sounds of her mouth on you and the broken cries spilling from your lips.

you were shameless now, little moans and gasps tumbling out with every grind of her tongue.

and when she slipped two fingers into you, slow but deliberate, your whole body seized with pleasure.

"fuck— aeri—" you sobbed, head thrown back, tugging at her hair.

"that’s it. give it to me, baby. let me record how pretty you sound.” she whispered, voice rough, curling her fingers just right inside you.

you whimpered again, heat rushing through you at the thought. at knowing she was still recording, that this was all hers.

she thrust into you harder, dragging messy, high cries from your throat. you felt yourself getting close, the pressure building fast.

"gonna cum for me, gorgeous? gonna soak my fucking hand?” she teased against your thigh, kissing it.

"yes— yes— aeri, please!” you moaned frantically.

"then be good and cum.” she ordered, pushing you harder into the chair.

your orgasm shattered you, pleasure ripping through your body like a lightning strike. you were crying out her name so loud you were worried the soundproofing couldn’t stop you anymore

but aeri didn't stop. she hummed, fingers still driving into you through the aftershocks. then her mouth sealed around your clit again like she couldn't get enough.

you whined, the overstimulation making your hips stutter.

"stay open.” she ordered when your legs tried to close again. she forced them wider, kissing you even deeper.

"so fucking good for me. gonna give me another, pretty baby. i know you can.” she praised, bringing you right back to the edge.

you sobbed, nodding helplessly because you had no choice. you were already too far gone.

she curled her fingers again, slow and punishing, tongue never letting up.

you were already shaking, whole body hypersensitive and twitching under her mouth but she didn’t even slow down.

"so sensitive now, huh, love?" she said, soft mockery in her tone.

her fingers dragged against that perfect spot deep inside you again and again, unrelenting, while her tongue lapped hot and heavy against your clit.

"stay fucking still. be good. take it.” she said, voice full of lust.

your eyes were squeezed shut, mouth dropping open on a broken, needy moan.

"please, aeri— i can't—"

"you can. you're doing so good, baby. so pretty for me. cum again — right on my fucking tongue." she said, not giving you even a second to come down.

the pressure snapped so fast you didn’t even realize you were cumming again until you were crying out, body convulsing in her hold. you were louder this time. messier. the sounds were desperate and beautiful.

aeri moaned against you and kept licking you through it, dragging out every last drop.

"fuck, listen to you. could make a song with your sounds alone.” she breathed, pulling back just enough to watch you. your was face flushed and your chest heaving for air.

she smiled and gently kissed the inside of your trembling thigh.

"that’s my good girl.” she whispered, voice rough but full of warmth.

you barely noticed aeri reaching over to stop the recording, the little red light finally blinking off. she kissed your temple gently, murmuring something you couldn’t catch.

"easy, baby. you’re shaking.” she whispered against your skin.

you glared and she just laughed before reaching for her hoodie and tugging it over your head, wrapping you up.

"there. my pretty girl.” she cooed, kissing your nose.

you clung to the sleeves, sinking into the warmth of the fabric.

"you’re so mean.” you muttered hoarsely, letting your head loll back against the chair. aeri laughed again.

"you loved it.” she teased, leaning down to place kisses over your flushed cheeks, your nose, the corner of your mouth.

you just buried your face in her shoulder.

"you're insufferable."

"and you’re obsessed with me.” she shot back, arms wrapping around you to lift you up out of the chair effortlessly.

you yelped, clinging to her neck. "aeri!"

she just laughed again, carrying you just a few steps over to the studio couch and collapsing onto it with you.

“my best girl. the best vocalist.” she sighed, snuggling into you and tangling her legs with your tingling ones. she then pulled a blanket from the back of the couch to toss over both of you lazily.

you groaned, slapping her chest weakly. "don't you dare use that recording for anything."

“too late. it's my new alarm tone. imagine waking up to you moaning my name every morning."

you shoved your face deeper into her hoodie, clearly mortified.

she just laughed, tightening her arms around you while her voice softened.

"you’re everything to me, y/n. you know that, right?" she murmured, breath warm against your ear.

you looked up at her, heart squeezing painfully tight in your chest.

"yeah. you’re everything to me too.” you whispered, kissing her jaw.

aeri smiled and kissed you slow like there was no rush now. like you had all the time in the world.

"good. cause i’m never letting you go.” she said, nuzzling you.

and then you realized.

you will never be able to hear her song without thinking of this.

taglist — @saysirhc @m00nqvv @yuyuy90

#dreamin’ — ua #aespa #aespa imagines #aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa giselle #giselle x fem reader #giselle x reader #giselle smut #aeri uchinaga x reader #aeri uchinaga #wlw #wlw post #gxg #kpop gxg #gxg imagine #gxg smut

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obxsummer · 8 months ago

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wave of you // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: more treasure hunting continues but your group takes time to enjoy the perfect surf day. it was perfect, that is until topper’s girlfriend becomes unhinged and you find yourself in the middle of an argument with… rafe cameron coming to your defense?

warnings: the usual obx angst, anxiety attacks, mentions of PTSD, cursing, crying. yeah.

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Sarah and John B had beat your half of the group back to the house, Kiara having been running the shop in the unexpected absences. After taking a shower to scrub the hospital off of you and changing into the comfiest clothes you could find, you joined everyone in the living area where everyone was sharing their half of the past few hours.

John B and Sarah had taken the amulet to get an inscription translated into what you found out said Where the living and dead collide, the gatekeeper will guide the way, whatever that meant. They were kicked out shortly after revealing where the object was from, the individual telling them it was cursed.

“Genrette was obsessed with Blackbeard, so maybe directions to his treasure?” John B theorized as he handed the amulet over to JJ.

“So, what is this treasure?” Cleo continued, “Gold?”

Pope shook his head. “No, I remember hearing something about like a… a crown, blue crown?”

His suggestion was immediately vetoed by Cleo and Kiara, neither girl believing a word he offered. You sighed and leaned back into the cushions of the couch, wrapping the blanket tighter around you as you listened to them bicker.

“Apparently, it is the most sought out artifact in the ancient world,” John B read off a page of a book he’d grabbed from the shelf. You squinted at the object in his hand, quietly asking yourself when your brother of all people read a book. “The blue crown was created for Darius the Great of Persia over 3,000 years ago.”

“That’s worth more than 50k.”

John B ignored JJ’s comment and continued, “It was said to possess the blessing of the gods themselves, granting the wearer immense favor and rare invincibility. Holy shit, look at this. Xerxes, the son of Darius the Great, he was a badass. He’s wearing it. Uh, Alexander the Great, beat the shit out of everybody. He’s wearing it. Julius Caesar, also a badass, murdered a bunch of people.”

“Dad told you all of this?” You asked him as he read the names off the pages. Pushing yourself to your feet, you moved to stand behind JJ and rested your chin on his shoulder as you looked over at what they were reading. He moved you into his side, thumb brushing your hip bone as he tugged you close.

John B shook his head at your question, glancing up at you. “No, no. I don’t remember any of this, I just know it granted wishes.”

“Like a genie?”

“Hold on, it says right here the crown was lost sometime in the 1700s, but it was rumored to be hunted down by… Blackbeard.”

There was no argument that the direction of the treasure hunt had been changed when it came to a priceless item versus 50k. The whole night shifted, turning into a bonfire and celebration between the group that brought everyone’s spirits back up.

“Oh, come on!” You complained as Pope smacked your burnt marshmallow from his face, sending the treat into the grass a few feet away. “Pope, that was my fuckin’ marshmallow!”

“I’ll make you a different one! The burnt ones are ass!”

You groaned in response and fake pouted before shaking the can of beer in your hand to find it empty. The six of you had been out here since sundown, embracing the thrill of the evening and what lay ahead. Despite hating the danger your group always seemed to head into, you missed this feeling of nostalgia and anticipation.

JJ’s hands grabbed your hips as you got up from your folding chair, bumping into him as you did so. You covered his hand in the one that didn’t have an empty can and smiled at him. “My knight in shining armor.”

“At your service, baby,” He replied instantly, trading your empty can for the fresh one he had next to him. Once it was securely in your hand, he tugged on your waist until you fell into his lap, a squeal escaping your lips before the two of you lost balance with the momentum and tumbled backward into the grass.

You screamed in shock, your beer flying away in the chaos as you rolled off JJ who was high off his ass and giggling loudly at the fall. You couldn’t stop the laughter escaping your lips and dropped into the grass completely, overwhelmed with happiness for the first time in what felt like forever. “You dumbass!”

“C’mere!”

Another yelp escaped you as JJ swooped you off the lawn and over his shoulder, hauling your ass toward the house with no explanation.

“Oh come on!” John B groaned and covered his eyes with his hand as JJ carried you out of view, various whistles from the ground following. “Fuckin’ hate you, JJ!”

JJ flipped your brother off with his free hand and walked into the house, closing the door with his shoe before he gently placed your feet on the ground. You grinned up at him, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him impossibly closer.

“Did you need something?” You teased and faked innocence as you fluttered your eyelashes to drive the effect home.

JJ tsked his tongue, his fingers cupping your neck before he kissed you roughly, moaning at the way your body fell into him without hesitation. You knew he wasn’t going to hold back very long and there was a 100% chance your friends could walk in at any moment.

“Upstairs,” You rushed out as his lips dropped to your neck, nipping softly at your skin to make your knees even weaker. “Jay.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He mumbled, his kisses stopping long enough for him to crouch and loop his arms around your ass and waist and pick you up, your ankles crossing behind his back, supported by his strong grip. “Lemme love on you.”

You hummed, kissing him again and biting gently on his bottom lip in response to his request. “You can love on me as much as you went when it’s not somewhere John B can see it.”

JJ groaned and shook his head. “Please stop bringing up your brother when we’re making out.”

You laughed loudly as he started walking up the stairs to your room, his kisses lingering on your collarbone and his grip tight as he did. The lack of light was welcomed as you landed on the bed with a laugh, barely having a second to pull your shirt off and drop your shoes before JJ was hovering over you with a hungry desire in his eyes and a whole night to make you his, again and again, just as he intended to.

The next morning was a haze of blissful kisses and a warm shower between you and JJ, the house still silent as everyone slept. Your boyfriend wrapped you in a soft towel, pressing a kiss to your forehead before telling you he was going to check on the shack. It hadn’t taken more than a few minutes before he was running through the house, waking everyone up and telling them about the swell.

The warm sunlight was shining through the window as you slipped on a swimsuit for the day, taking the time to brush your skin with sunscreen and grabbing one of John B’s lightweight shirts to slip on over your shoulders. The boys were already down prepping the boards with Kiara as you and Sarah took the time to make breakfast for everyone, knowing food would easily be forgotten in the excitement of the day.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you guys are seriously surfing today?” Pope walked across the screened-in porch while shoving his backpack on his shoulders.

You frowned at the sight of him in everyday clothes and not swimwear, “And you aren’t?”

Ever since you were little, you’d spent every surf day with the boys and Kiara. It was like the second the news of a perfect swell hit town, all bets were off and the beach was calling your name. Pope was usually the one to drag you out of bed for it, so to see him walking away was a surprise.

“Well, I don’t want to sell the million dollars I have in my hand for 50k so, I’m gonna look into this.” He held up the amulet for emphasis.

JJ looked just as confused as you did. “Wait, Pope. Didn’t you hear me? It’s a perfect swell day.”

“Yeah, and there will be other swell days.”

Low whistles and ‘ooohs’ followed his statement, the group collectively disagreeing with his mindset. John B turned to Sarah from his spot where he was waxing your board. “You wanna maximize beach day?”

Sarah pursed her lips. “I wanna maximize this tan.”

You bit into your toast and pushed at her with your toes. “Sarah Cameron, I know you used to be a Kook but you’ll learn how to surf the Pogue way today.”

She rolled her eyes in fake annoyance before pushing at your foot, sending you off balance from your stool as you yelped before laughing.

“Well, everyone have fun maximizing.”

“Wait!” You called out to Pope as he turned on his heels to leave. “Where’s Cleo? I have to see her on a board. She’s gotta be insane with it.”

Pope shrugged, “She texted me, said she’s looking for bait in The Cut.”

“Lame, tell her we’re closed!” Kie argued back.

JJ continued to try and convince Pope to join you all on the beach, but the boy wasn’t having it, his mind stubborn on exploring more info on the amulet for the day. He informed you all he texted Cleo to meet up before hopping on his bike and disappearing from view.

You weren’t sure how the boys managed to get all the boards on the Twinkie, or honestly, you didn’t want to know, but the second the sand was in between your toes, you didn’t have a care in the world. Surfing was always one of your favorite pastimes. The sunshine, the water, and the feeling of landing a good wave were so rewarding.

John B had managed to find the group an open spot on the beach to set up chairs and the umbrella he almost took JJ’s eye out with. You took off in the sand and dove headfirst into the water, relishing in the refresh it gave you as the water crossed over. It had been so long since you had nothing to do besides lay in the salty water.

The peace didn’t last long, of course. Topper and his rowdy group pulled up in their newer vehicles, purposely parking close to your group as if it would make a point. You rolled your eyes at the sight of them, knowing this wouldn’t end well because it just never really did.

JJ met you in the water with both of your boards in hand, but your focus wasn’t on him. It was on the group piling out of the cars which happened to include Rafe Cameron.

“I won’t let anything happen,” JJ attempted to reassure you as he stopped to kiss your temple, sliding your board into your hands. You gave him a weak nod but didn’t move your gaze as you watched Topper move closer to your setup where he intercepted John B.

Your hands moved to give JJ the board back as you walked out of the water to approach the two boys. You didn’t need John B doing anything irrational, especially if Topper pushed his buttons the way he normally did.

“Nice of you to join the party,” Topper acknowledged as you came to stand next to your brother with crossed arms.

“Top.” You nodded in his direction, not backing down in your defensive approach.

Topper motioned toward John B, “I was just hashing things out, you know. Friendly banter to get things even.”

“Do you really think it’s even, Topper?” You asked him as the list began to run through your head. Every time you guys got the slight upper hand, the Kooks took you down two pegs.

Topper pursed his lips and looked away from you. “Uh, let’s go down the list. You guys sunk my boat.”

“Allegedly.”

“Then you cold-cocked me and put me in the ER, remember?” He looked at John B pointedly like it was the worst thing ever.

“You beat the shit out of Pope,” You reminded him. “Or, how about pushing John B off a two-story building, hmm?”

Topper rolled his eyes and pointed behind John B. “Look, I was with her first, bro. If your girl comes to me, if she can’t resist….”

“Real mature of you, Topper. Oh, by the way, thanks for burning our house down,” John B replied, his fingers twitching to throw the first punch, but he wouldn’t with you standing next to him.

You sneered at Topper’s attitude and stepped forward to block John B in case the emotions got the best of either boy. “Just here to surf, Top. Unless you had more to say?”

Topper’s eyes glanced behind you before he cleared his throat and refocused with no further argument. “No, no. Just here to surf.”

You hummed in agreement as he turned to walk away, mumbling something about having a good chat. Waiting until he was far enough on his side, you shifted back around to see JJ standing a few feet behind you, glare sharp enough to kill the Kook. No wonder Topper about shit his pants.

“C’mon.” John B grabbed your hand, tugging you away from the scene. You didn’t miss the way Rafe stared at you the entire time despite the new brunette he seemed to have attached to his hip. It took one glance to know she wasn’t a Kook, especially with the obvious discomfort she held around the group.

Pushing their presence to the back of your mind, you allowed John B and JJ to tug you out into the warm sea, Kiara and Sarah following behind the three of you as the waves started to kick up. It became a routine of swapping waves, dropping in amongst your friends’ cheers and applause. Even Sarah managed to grab a couple and remain on her feet for the course into shore, which had all of you celebrating.

Hours passed between the sun and waves before you flopped on a towel and treated yourself to a midday nap. Sarah had the right idea when she said she would maximize her tan, the warm rays lulling you to sleep before you knew it.

JJ pulled himself out of the water, brushing as much from his hair as possible so he didn’t look like a wet dog. He didn’t feel half bad dropping in on a wave that Topper supposedly thought he could claim. JJ laughed to himself; the damn Kook should know better than to try to out-surf a Pogue.

His eyes caught sight of you sound asleep and cuddled up on the oversized towel you insisted on grabbing for yourself at the thrift store. It was rare nowadays for you to sleep without someone by your side, especially at night. There were too many times when you’d crash on the hammock before the group came in and you woke someone up with a heavy scream.

In the years JJ had known you, he’d never considered you to be weak or broken. You’d always been an example of strength in his eyes, someone who could persevere even the toughest of challenges. He knew it took a little bit of support now and then, but you were healing, and he was so, so proud of you. You’d shared such vulnerable moments with him, and though he wished he could take the pain away, he knew it was a process. It took him longer than he’d like to admit to share about his dad with you, so he understood the hesitancy you had when it came to unpacking what occurred while John B was gone.

Usually, when you caught sight of Rafe, you shut down completely. JJ didn’t pry to ask what all happened when you were stuck with him, trusting that in time you would open up and share when you were comfortable. He was grateful that you felt comfortable enough with them around to sleep even though the person who’d taken so much from you was so close by.

“Guys, there’s a turtle hatch!”

Kiara’s excitement woke you up from the warmth of the sand, your eyes blinking in an attempt to adjust to the sunlight. You shifted to see where she was pointing, noticing the little movements of sand and the dark figures poking out. Pushing yourself to your feet, your friends scurried around to make a path in hopes of guiding the baby turtles safely toward the water.

You quickly tossed John B your towel to drag out the terrain evenly before taking a closer look at the small creatures, wishing you could pick one up but knowing better. “They’re so cute, what the fuck!”

“Make a turtle highway,” Sarah laughed beside you, the two of soaking up the once-in-a-lifetime event as Kie continued to build a path with the boys. Pulling out your phone, you snapped a few photos of the event, including one of Sarah pointing at the little turtles as they cruised by.

The sound of a revving engine pulled your attention away and toward where Topper’s supped-up Jeep was approaching. You frowned at the sight, not sure what his intentions were before you noticed Topper wasn’t even driving, Ruthie was.

“Hey!” Kiara stood up and waved her hands in the air, “Stop! There’s a hatch!”

“Topper, stop!” You yelled next, trying to point around the current path of the turtles who were moving as fast as their little bodies could take them. “Move!”

There was barely enough time for JJ and Kiara to throw themselves out of the way of the oncoming Jeep, thankfully missing the turtles and the near-death of the duo. You could hear Ruthie’s obnoxious laugh behind you as you faced the Kook group who apparently, found attempted murder funny.

“Hey!” You were shouting before you had a chance to think it through, feet stomping through the sand to carry you closer to where Kelce and his friends found it hysterical. “What the hell is wrong with you people?”

Kelce continued to laugh as Topper’s Jeep revved once more, coming to a stop next to you. “Maybe next time don’t drop in on our surf,” Kelce’s voice dropped deeper as he approached you, gaze darkening when he was eye to eye with you.

“Fuck you, Kelce. Whatever ego you all have that you think entitles you to run over baby turtles is sick,” You spat, pushing against his chest causing his friends to ‘ooh’ at your action. Not only did they almost ruin the hatch, but Kie and JJ were inches from getting run over because of their stupidity.

“Turtles?” A voice next to you stopped you from spitting another nasty curse at the group now that Topper and Ruthie had rejoined. You looked over to see the brunette girl looking back at you, her gaze familiar before you caught Rafe watching over her shoulder. “There were turtles?”

The heartbreak in her voice surprised you. You figured anyone following Rafe around would have the same cruel attitude he did, but the empathy you weren’t expecting.

“Go back to The Cut,” Ruthie interrupted whatever explanation you were considering giving.

You turned to glare at her, closing the distance between the two of you as you poked at her chest. “You have five seconds before JJ gets over here and loses his shit on all of you, so, I’d watch your words, Ruthie, before they bite you in the ass. You’re a pathetic excuse for a human, and I hope you’re fucking ashamed of your actions.”

The group clearly hadn’t expected you, of all people, to come mouth off about their actions. Silence filled the group, the girl in front of you at a loss of words that someone actually dared put her in her place.

“Look, we didn’t mean to-“

“Shut the fuck up, Topper!” You snapped at him, sick of his attempts to appear innocent despite all the damage he caused. “What happened to just here to surf, huh? Or is attempted murder always in the back of your mind?”

“Hey watch it-“

“Fucking leave, Pogue!”

“Get the hell out of here!”

“Hey, hey! Enough!” It was Rafe who put himself between you and Ruthie’s incoming hands. You didn’t know whether to be grateful or terrified and took a step back, feet stumbling as you did so. You stared at him, horrified as his gaze met yours and stole all the air from your lungs.

“Bitch can barely look him in the eye,” Ruthie laughed behind Rafe, but you made no move to correct her, terrified that even a breath in the wrong way would end your life. Rafe Cameron, of all people, to be the one to stop someone from harming you was a sick joke.

“Rafe?” The brunette girl next to him grabbed his arm, her eyes taking in your terrified expression. It was then that you recognized her. Sofia, the girl who you’d unfortunately come to know too well in the therapy sessions John B had forced you to attempt. The two of you had shared so much with each other but never once had you run into her since you stopped going months ago. She seemed to process who you were then too, a silent conversation running through her head as she mouthed your name.

At that moment, someone ran up behind you, hands landing on your hips before you were moved into another set of arms. You caught sight of JJ stepping closer to Rafe, likely starting an argument that you could only hope didn’t end with a fight.

“You’re okay, I’ve got ya.” John B turned you around to redirect your gaze, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as he started walking back toward the Twinkie. Everything turned to a haze, the adrenaline wearing off enough that you were heading into the inevitable anxiety attack.

“If you come near her, or any one of us, ever again, I’ll come back and kill every single one of you.” JJ’s threat wasn’t a light one, and you were certain it would come back to bite him in the ass considering the Kooks would take it and run with it.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your ears as John B pushed you into the passenger seat of the Twinkie, his hands grabbing both of your cheeks as you closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breath. Sarah’s grip on your hand was light as she climbed in the driver’s seat to sit on your other side.

“What the hell was that?” Kiara’s shout echoed through the van, ringing in your ears and causing you to squeeze your eyes closed even harder. “What did you say to them?”

“Kie, shut up!” Sarah was yelling back at her, their voices blending together as you tucked your knees to your chest and curled into a ball. The shakiness was setting in and all you could do was beg your body to calm down and catch up to your actions.

You forced your eyes to open, blinking as you managed to catch Sofia’s gaze across the sand. How you didn’t put the pieces together that’s who she was, you weren’t sure, but a pit grew in your stomach when you realized you’d spilled so much in those sessions that she was present for. Most, if not all of it, about Rafe.

Air choked in your lungs, and aggressive coughs followed before JJ’s hand was against your chest to keep you upright. His fingers were gently against your jawline as he kept your head up in an attempt to help you breathe correctly.

“You’re alright, baby. Just keep breathing, yeah?”

John B had left your vision, same with Sarah, leaving you face to face with your boyfriend. He climbed over you to sit in the seat Sarah had once occupied and pulled your legs out to rest over his. The desire to curl up and cramp your muscles happened more than often and he’d picked up on that after a few anxiety attacks, recognizing your patterns and habits.

JJ forced his hands in yours, keeping your fingers from stabbing your palms as you fought to take deep breaths, your body still on high alert even though your mind was coming back down.

“There you go, good girl,” His encouragement made you smile slightly, knowing he was messing with you on purpose. Moving forward, you puddled into his lap without a word, and he welcomed you with open arms. Physical contact helped more in the recent moments, something you never expected considering you used to be so fearful of someone’s touch.

JJ shuffled with you in his grasp, tugging the door closed to prevent unwelcome eyes from seeing you in such a vulnerable moment. John B was climbing in the driver seat shortly after, Sarah joining in the back before all doors were closed. Your breathing was slowing, muscles finding the forgiveness to loosen up on you but refused to move from JJ’s lap until your head was back in one piece.

“Kie?” You mumbled into his shoulder. The girl was clearly upset with you, but you didn’t have the capacity to question why.

“Walking,” John B replied simply as he started the old van. “Needs to clear her fuckin’ head.”

Sarah shushed him and you could hear her hand connect with his body gently, a grumbled protest coming from your brother in response. A comfortable silence filled the vehicle as John B drove away from the beach and started his course back home.

Exhaustion had set in on the drive, your body heavy in JJ’s hold as you listened to the occupants other than yourself share small chatter. Words weren’t enough to describe how grateful you were to your friends and brother for always supporting you no matter what. You knew it was a handful, hell, it wasn’t easy yourself, but the fact that they showed up time and time again said everything.

“Sorry about everything,” You apologized as John B parked the van in front of the house, ending your adventure for the day. “I’m trying to fix it and it just-”

“Hey,” Sarah interrupted your explanation as she popped her head over the seat. “No apologies. We’ve talked about that. Don’t apologize, ever.”

She left no room for argument and opened the back door to slide out. You looked at JJ and John B, both boys shrugged in agreement with her, making you roll your eyes.

“Maybe we could rethink therapy?” John B suggested as he watched you rub your face to rid yourself of tear marks. You shook your head, giving no verbal answer.

Therapy had been shit for you. When you first came back from El Dorado, the hospital had taken one look at you, post-gunshot stitches, and deemed you unsound. You went with it for a while, going to the group sessions and spilling stories without any names. Then you realized how cruel people were when they started comparing trauma and you never went back again.

JJ’s grip loosened so you could climb out of the van, arm slinging over your shoulder to keep you close as he followed you. Sarah joined your side, pulling your hand in hers to swing back and forth as the four of you started heading toward the house where Pope had come out the side door.

“Yo!” JJ called in greeting. “What’d you find?”

Silence followed the question, shifting your attention to Pope instead of the ground. The shock on his face was evident and your gaze immediately dropped to the dark red smears on his shirt and hands.

“Oh, shit.” Sarah was turning you into her instantly, both JJ and John B getting closer to Pope with an onslaught of questions. You kept your eyes on her, squeezing her hand tightly in attempt to keep your mind from getting involved.

“What happened?”

“Where’s Cleo?”

“She’s inside.” It was the only answer Pope had to give, and it sent JJ inside scrambling for the girl in question, fearing what he would find. John B grabbed ahold of Pope, steering him back to the house without any further questions before Sarah started to guide you along with the fresh blood out of view.

Sarah looked at you expectantly as you made your way through the door into whatever chaos you’d subjected yourself to. The girl next to you stopped short and shifted your path into the kitchen, rerouting you from whatever she’d caught sight of before you could. JJ was already in there, pushing a water into your hand and lifting you onto the kitchen counter without another word.

To your relief, Cleo moved in shortly after, her expression stoic and unreadable before Sarah left your side and you could barely hear Kiara’s voice joining whatever conversation was happening a room over.

JJ placed his hands on each side of your body before kissing you softly, pulling your mind to him and only him. You hummed quietly, fingers tangling in his hair for a moment before he shifted away.

“Can you tell me?” You asked quietly, not wanted to push too far if Cleo was clearly so upset.

He glanced at the girl behind you before answering, “Terrance’s body is in the other room.”

JJ watched you as you processed the information, a million questions running through your mind that you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. Apparently, there was no time to, as JJ’s eyes caught on to something out the window behind you. A quick glance over your shoulder revealed the all too familiar Kildare County Sheriff’s Office truck, and your heart sank to your ass.

“J-“

“Upstairs,” He replied with no room for disagreement. “Our room or balcony, kay? I’ll send Sarah.”

You nodded, doing what he said without another question and bolted up the stairs with your heart pounding in your chest. Sarah’s footsteps were behind you moments later, the two of you finding sanctuary on the balcony outside your shared room with JJ.

The sun was beginning to set and cast an orange lighting over the two of you as you piled into the hammock. Sarah leaned her head against yours just as another figure joined your group. Cleo fell on top of the two of you with a huff, both you and Sarah wrapping her up tightly into your cuddle puddle.

And suddenly, all you could hear, was silence.

How the fuck did the cards fall this way every single time?

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wendichester · 3 months ago

Text

⋆.˚ ★ the pizza man conundrum,

summary. castiel is confused about dean's most recent attempt to humanize the angel. you're the target of his questions.

pairing. castiel x reader genre. complete crack

wordcount. 489

notes / warnings. this is gonna leave you feeling a little bit confused. or amused. pick one.

Dean is dead to the world.

Sprawled out on the motel bed, one arm flung over his face, boots half-on, snoring like an idling truck. You may have accidentally worn him out after convincing him to do literally anything other than sit at a bar all night. A bet, a few rounds of pool, and one very competitive foot race later (he swears you cheated), and now he’s out.

You’re enjoying the rare moment of peace when—

“I need your assistance.”

You jump about a foot in the air. “Jesus, Cas! A little warning next time?”

Castiel stares at you, head slightly tilted, blue eyes full of celestial intensity. “I do not require a warning.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Okay, what do you need?”

“I have questions.”

Of course he does.

You pat the empty motel bed beside you, and Castiel takes it as an invitation to sit—though he does so like a man who has never properly understood chairs, his posture stiff and uncomfortably formal.

He turns to you, face unreadable. “Dean has… introduced me to something.”

You blink. “Should I be concerned?”

“I do not know,” he says seriously. “But I seek clarification.”

There’s a long pause. Then, in a tone way too solemn for the words about to leave his mouth, he asks—

“…Who is the pizza man?”

You stare at him. Hard.

He stares back.

It’s too much. You break. A snort escapes before you can stop it, and suddenly, you’re wheezing, barely able to breathe through your laughter.

Cas just waits, looking more confused by the second.

When you finally regain some control, wiping at your eyes, you manage, “Cas… why do you want to know about the pizza man?”

He frowns. “Because I do not understand his significance.”

You take a deep breath, shaking your head. “Okay, start from the beginning.”

Castiel nods, thoughtful. “Dean was watching something on his laptop.”

Your stomach drops. “Oh God.”

“I saw two humans engaging in a ritual of physical intimacy,” Cas continues, completely unfazed. “The woman seemed very eager for the pizza man’s presence. I am unsure why he was necessary for the proceedings.”

You’re biting your lip so hard you might draw blood. “Cas…”

“I attempted to ask Dean about it, but he only laughed,” Castiel says, looking genuinely offended. “And then he fell asleep.” He gestures vaguely at the still-passed-out Dean. “So I have come to you.”

You could explain it. But where’s the fun in that?

“Cas,” you say, leaning in conspiratorially. “It’s a sacred human tradition. The pizza man is a… symbol. A bringer of joy, nourishment, and—uh—other things.”

Cas nods, very serious. “I see. Like an angel, but with food.”

Your lips twitch. “Exactly.”

There’s a long pause before Cas looks at Dean, then back at you.

“Would you like me to order a pizza?”

That’s it. You’re done. You collapse onto the bed, laughing so hard you can’t breathe.

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solxamber · 7 months ago

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The Fairest of Them All || Vil Schoenheit

You've chosen Vil!

Navigating the chaos of Night Raven College, you somehow end up stealing the heart of Pomefiore’s untouchable Housewarden.

w.c: 5.3k

1k Masterlist ; Prologue

It’s the night of the opera, and you’re anxiously adjusting your outfit for what feels like the hundredth time. Vil had invited you—Vil Schoenheit, the epitome of elegance and poise—and you’d spent hours ensuring you looked halfway decent next to someone so effortlessly perfect.

When the knock at the door comes, you barely manage to keep yourself from sprinting to open it. And there he is.

Vil stands on your doorstep, dressed in formal wear that could kill a victorian child, his golden hair tied back with precision that seems almost unfair to the rest of humanity. A soft scent of bergamot and cedar follows him, making your brain stutter.

Your jaw goes slack, and you freeze, blatantly staring like a deer caught in headlights. You’re trying to say something, anything, but the only thing leaving your mouth is the sound of air escaping your lungs.

Vil’s lips twitch into the faintest smirk. “Good evening,” he says smoothly, clearly noticing your state. His eyes sweep over your outfit, and he nods in approval. “You’ve done well. You look rather lovely tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to squeak, still staring. Internally, you’re screaming: What do you mean rather? Lovely?? Have you looked in a mirror recently?!!

He gestures toward the waiting car. “Shall we?”

You nod dumbly, closing the door behind you before following him to the sleek black vehicle parked outside.

The interior of the car is as polished as Vil himself, the soft leather seats and faint glow of the dashboard making it feel like you’ve stepped into another world. You try to focus on the excitement of the opera, but the quiet presence of Vil next to you is making that exceedingly difficult.

As the car glides through the city, your hands brush accidentally, a fleeting touch that sends a little jolt through you. You glance at him, expecting him to pull away or comment, but he doesn’t even blink. If anything, his expression softens, his gaze fixed out the window.

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage, and slowly slip your hand into his.

Vil raises an eyebrow ever so slightly, but his grip tightens around yours, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Excited, are we?” he murmurs, the corners of his lips tugging upward in that signature, knowing smirk of his.

You nod quickly, your heart pounding. “Yeah! I mean, it’s my first opera. I don’t want to miss a second of it.”

“Good,” he says, his voice a touch softer. “You’ll appreciate it more than most.” He pauses, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “And… it’s refreshing to share it with someone who isn’t afraid to show their enthusiasm.”

You smile at that, feeling a little less nervous and a lot more giddy.

The grand opera house is breathtaking, its towering marble columns and gilded details glowing under the warm lights. You almost trip on the stairs trying to take it all in. Vil’s hand at your elbow steadies you.

“Careful,” he says lightly, his lips quirking in amusement. “I’d rather not have our evening interrupted by a sprained ankle.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, your face heating up as you let him guide you to your seats.

The opera begins, and it’s as magical as you imagined. The singers’ voices soar, weaving a story so full of emotion you feel like you’re holding your breath half the time. But despite the beauty on stage, you find your attention drifting.

To him.

Vil sits beside you, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the stage lights. He’s transfixed, his violet eyes glittering as they follow the performers. He’s utterly ethereal, and you’re entirely doomed.

When he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, your gaze snaps back to the stage so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. But you can still feel him looking at you, and when you sneak another glance, you catch the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

Your heart does a little flip.

It's time for the intermission and you slowly stretch out your legs.

“Let’s take a walk,” Vil suggests as the lights come up. You nod, following him out of the auditorium and into the grand halls of the opera house.

The murals lining the walls are stunning, vivid depictions of myth and music that seem almost alive under the flickering chandeliers. Vil walks beside you, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back to guide you through the crowd.

It’s subtle, effortless, and completely unfair. You’re hyper-aware of the warmth of his touch, the gentle pressure that somehow manages to make your brain short-circuit.

“Relax,” he murmurs, leaning closer so only you can hear. His breath brushes against your ear, and you nearly trip over your own feet. “You’re walking like you’re in a dream.”

“I feel like I am in a dream,” you blurt, before immediately regretting it.

Vil chuckles, a soft, genuine sound that makes your stomach flutter. “I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He pauses in front of one particularly grand mural, his hand lingering at your back as he studies it. You glance up at him, catching the way his eyes soften as he takes in the artwork.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, though you’re not entirely sure you’re still talking about the mural.

“It is,” he agrees, his gaze flickering down to meet yours. “Though not nearly as much as some things.”

Your heart leaps into your throat. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and judging by the amused glint in his eyes, he’s thoroughly enjoying your reaction.

The show ends, and you’re still buzzing from the experience as you climb into the car. You hum the aria under your breath, the melody still fresh in your mind.

Vil sits beside you, one arm resting casually against the window as he watches you with quiet amusement.

“You enjoyed it, then?” he asks, though it’s clear he already knows the answer.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing!” you say, turning to him with a wide grin. “I mean, the costumes, the singing, the—”

You stop mid-sentence as Vil leans in, his face so close you can feel the warmth of his skin.

Your heart skips a beat. “W-What are you—?”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. “You’re a mess,” he says, though his tone is far too fond for the words to carry any bite.

He leans back, smirking at your flustered expression. You can practically feel the heat radiating off your face as you bury it in your hands.

Vil walks you to your doorstep, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his features. He looks so effortlessly regal, so infuriatingly perfect, and you know you’re going to be replaying this night in your head for weeks.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say, turning to him with a smile. “I had a great time.”

“The pleasure was mine,” he replies, his voice smooth as ever.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you take his hand, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it. “Goodnight, Vil.”

You dart inside before you can see his reaction, but as you peek through the curtains, you catch him standing there, a small, genuine smile on his lips.

And just like that, your night feels even more magical.

The evening starts peacefully at Ramshackle, with you sitting on the couch, Grim sprawled on your lap, and a carton of apple juice in hand. The tranquility is shattered by what sounds like a battering ram hitting the door.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

“HENCHUMAN!” Grim screeches, bolting upright and scrambling toward the door. “Somebody’s tryin’ ta demolish our house!”

“Calm down, Grim!” you shout, rushing to the door. As you open it, you find Epel standing there, out of breath, his hair disheveled like he’s been running for his life.

“EP—”

“I NEED SANCTUARY!” Epel cries, practically diving inside before slamming the door behind him. “Please, hide me! Don’t let him find me!”

You blink at him, baffled. “What—who—huh?”

Grim squints up at Epel, unimpressed. “What’d ya do this time, farm boy?”

“I didn’t do nothin’! Vil’s gone mad again! He wants me to do some eight-step skincare ritual with somethin’ called snail mucin!” Epel flops onto the couch dramatically. “SNAILS, Prefect. SNAILS. I don’t wanna look like no slimy critter!”

You try to keep a straight face, but it’s impossible. “Epel, you know he’s just trying to help, right?”

Epel grabs a carton of apple juice from the table and downs some of it like it's vodka. “Help? Help turn me into a snail, maybe!”

Grim nods sagely. “Yeah, I dunno what a ‘mucin’ is, but it sounds slimy.”

The atmosphere is almost cozy again as the three of you sit around, sipping juice and joking around. But then it happens.

Knock. Knock. KNOCK.

This knock isn’t like Epel’s desperate pounding. This knock is sharp, precise, and terrifyingly composed.

Grim lets out a dramatic gasp. “IT’S HIM!”

Epel pales. “Don’t open it. Please don’t open it!”

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you cautiously crack the door open. Sure enough, there stands Vil Schoenheit, looking like he just stepped out of a photoshoot, his expression as serene as a summer lake—but with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Good evening,” Vil greets you with a polite smile. “Would you kindly return my wayward dorm member?”

You glance over your shoulder at Epel, who is shaking his head violently and mouthing, “Don’t you dare!”

“Uh,” you begin, already feeling trapped. “I mean… what if—what if he just stayed here for tonight?”

Vil raises an elegant brow. “I see. Is that how it’s going to be?” He steps inside with the grace of a cat, his gaze shifting from you to Epel. “I’m sure you think you’re very clever.”

“Lemme be free,” Epel whines, hiding behind the couch. “I ain’t ready for snails on my face!”

Vil’s smile turns sharp. “Snail mucin is a highly effective hydrator, but if you insist on being dramatic…” He turns to you, his eyes narrowing in thought. “You. Are you willing to try the skincare regimen in his place?”

“Me?” You blink, startled.

Epel perks up from behind the couch. “YES. TAKE THEM!”

Vil tilts his head. “If you’re willing, I’m confident I can achieve better results from a subject who isn’t fighting me at every turn.”

You shrug. “Sure, why not?”

Before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, Vil has looped an arm through yours, gracefully pulling you out the door. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

Epel waves dramatically from the window. “Bless ya, Prefect! I owe ya big time!”

Grim just yells after you, “DON’T LET HIM TURN YA INTO A SNAIL!”

Pomefiore is somehow both intimidating and gorgeous at night, much like Vil himself. He leads you to a lavishly decorated room that smells faintly of lavender and something you can’t quite place but know costs more than your monthly groceries.

Vil gestures for you to sit, and you do, feeling slightly like a sacrificial lamb.

“This won’t hurt,” he says smoothly, rolling up his sleeves. “Now, sit still.”

You expect him to just slap some moisturizer on your face and call it a day, but no. Vil moves with precision and care, his fingers brushing gently over your skin as he applies cleanser, toner, and a series of serums that feel more expensive than anything you’ve ever owned.

“This feels… nice,” you mumble, your eyelids growing heavier.

Vil hums, clearly pleased with himself. “Of course it does. Skincare is an art.”

Somewhere between step five and six, you lose the battle against sleep, dozing off in the chair.

You stir awake to find Vil leaning over you, his gaze soft and almost… fond. He’s saying something about your skin glowing, but you’re too distracted by the feeling of being watched so intently.

“Vil?” you murmur groggily.

“Yes?” he replies, his voice softer than usual.

Your eyes narrow slightly as you sit up, noticing something on your cheek. “Uh… did you kiss me?”

Vil freezes for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough. His usual composure slips, and he hurriedly swipes at your cheek with a handkerchief. “Don’t be absurd,” he says, but his tone is unusually flustered.

Except.

You glance at his lips, where the faintest smudge of lipstick is visible. “Riiiiiight.”

Vil notices where your gaze has landed and turns away, busying himself with the jars on the counter. “You’re imagining things.”

You smile, a teasing glint in your eye. “If you say so.”

But as he ushers you out of Pomefiore with a distracted wave and a faint blush dusting his cheeks, you know you’ve won this round.

The morning starts off with a buzz of activity at the botanical gardens. Vil, ever the professional, has arranged an elaborate photoshoot in the serene greenery. Props were meticulously placed, outfits were prepared, and lighting setups were already stationed. Vil even allowed himself to feel something akin to satisfaction.

That is, until afternoon rolls around.

Unbeknownst to Vil, the chaos trio (Ace, Deuce, Grim) and Jack had wandered into the gardens earlier for what they dubbed “a little harmless fun.” What they actually managed to do was:

Accidentally tip over a giant fountain while trying to see if Grim could swim (spoiler alert: he can’t).

Start a “friendly” game of tag that ended with Ace tripping over a prop table, sending vases and floral arrangements flying like shrapnel.

Release a flock of doves intended for Vil’s grand finale by opening the wrong cage ("I wanted to see if they could do tricks!" Ace insists as Deuce facepalms).

Grim, somehow, set a bush on fire. Jack put it out, but the smell of burnt shrubbery lingers ominously in the air.

By the time Vil arrives, the scene looks like a tornado hit. The once-pristine gardens are a disaster zone. Props are broken, flowers are trampled, and there's a trail of muddy footprints leading in every direction.

Vil steps into the carnage, his designer boots squelching in mud. His expression is eerily calm at first, but the sharp inhale he takes speaks volumes. He surveys the devastation with a look that could wilt the few surviving flowers.

“My vision,” he whispers, his voice tight with suppressed rage.

You stand beside him, trying not to laugh because you’ve never seen him this close to a meltdown.

“Vil,” you say cautiously, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s not that bad—”

“Not that bad?!” he snaps, whirling on you. “Look around! This isn’t a photoshoot location; it’s a war zone!”

From the corner of your eye, you spot Cater peeking in, phone out, clearly recording the unfolding drama. You make a mental note to confiscate it later.

Vil pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself, “I should have known better. Trusting anything to others. Utter folly.”

“You’re gonna burst a blood vessel,” you warn him, earning a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“Alright, alright,” you say, rolling up your sleeves. “Stop sulking and help me salvage this.”

Vil blinks at you, incredulous. “Salvage? You can’t possibly—”

“Watch me.”

With that, you march into the chaos. You grab what props can be salvaged, rearrange a few backdrops, and even craft makeshift decorations out of the remaining flowers and ribbons.

Vil watches in stunned silence as you hustle, barking orders at a very confused Sebek, who you dragged out of the equestrian club to help.

“Sebek, I need that saddle cleaned now!” you shout.

Sebek grumbles, muttering something about “desecrating noble horse equipment for frivolity,” but obeys when you glare at him.

Within the hour, you’ve transformed a patch of ruined garden into a new set: a rustic, equestrian-inspired photoshoot featuring horses. Vil looks around, stunned, as you pat one of the horses on the neck.

“Well?” you say, wiping sweat from your brow. “It’s not the flower themed you started off with, but it’ll work, right?”

Vil stares at you, a strange softness in his eyes. “...It’s perfect.”

The photoshoot goes off without a hitch. Vil looks flawless as ever, draped elegantly across a horse in one shot and holding its reins with regal authority in another. You even manage to convince Sebek to lend Vil his equestrian jacket for a dramatic flair.

As you predicted, the photos break the internet. The combination of Vil Schoenheit and majestic horses sends fans into a frenzy. “A SUPERMODEL AND HORSES??? THE WORLD ISN’T READY FOR THIS!” one comment reads.

But what really goes viral isn’t the official photos. It’s a video Cater secretly took of Vil watching you as you worked to save the shoot.

In the video, Vil stands in the background, holding a bouquet prop. His usual composed expression is nowhere to be seen—he’s looking at you with undisguised fondness, like you’re the only person in the world. The caption?

“The real shoot is happening behind the scenes #VilSmittenheit”

When you show Vil the video later, he groans and buries his face in his hands. “Of course Cater would...”

But you just smile, because even Vil can’t deny the truth caught on camera.

The potionology exam looms like a thundercloud, and you’ve made the questionable decision to study with the first-year gang. It feels like babysitting a tornado of chaos.

You’ve got your notebook out, ready to tackle the mysteries of potion ratios and ingredient compatibility. Then you look up.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim are locked in a heated debate over whether it’s morally acceptable to substitute powdered phoenix feather with breadcrumbs.

“Grim, breadcrumbs aren’t even magical!” Jack groans, rubbing his temples.

Grim huffs, waving a paw dismissively. “It’s got crunch! Everything’s better with crunch!”

“Breadcrumbs in a potion?!” Sebek barks, slamming his fist on the table. “Such idiocy would never occur in Lord Malleus’s presence! Do you know the kind of potions he could make? Far superior to this nonsense!”

Epel, slouched in his chair, mutters, “What’s the point of potionology when you can just punch your problems or fly away?”

“Guys,” Jack says, his patience clearly thinning. “We need to focus! We’re all going to fail if we don’t—”

“I’M NOT FAILING!” Sebek bellows.

“Then stop talking about Malleus for five minutes!” Ace snaps.

You close your notebook. You know when to admit defeat. You’re getting nothing done here.

Plan B: The Vil Schoenheit Method

You march straight to Vil in Pomefiore. He’s seated in his lavish lounge, sipping tea and reading a book on advanced alchemical techniques that makes your brain hurt just by looking at it.

“Vil, help me,” you say, dropping dramatically to your knees like you’re auditioning for a tragedy. “I’m going to flunk potionology, and I can’t rely on Ace, Deuce, or Grim because they’ve got the collective intelligence of a soggy paper towel.”

Vil arches an eyebrow, clearly amused. “And why should I help you?”

“Because you’re the best potionologist I know,” you plead. “And because I’ll owe you one. A big one. I’ll even—” You pause for dramatic effect. “—tell you where Epel is when he runs away.”

Vil narrows his eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere, but your desperation is mildly entertaining. Fine. But I won’t go easy on you.”

You gulp.

Vil is intense. He doesn’t just teach you potionology; he micromanages your existence.

“Back straight,” he snaps, tapping your spine with a ruler. “You’re hunched over like a gremlin. And stop stirring like you’re mixing pancake batter. Precision is key!”

You mutter something about gremlins under your breath, but Vil hears it. “I can make this more difficult if you’d like,” he says with a sweet yet menacing smile.

He quizzes you relentlessly, correcting every little mistake with the sharpness of a dagger. “If you confuse Mandrake extract with Mandragora root one more time, I’ll have Rook carry you back to Ramshackle while reciting a poem about your incompetence.”

But by the end of it, you’ve actually learned. You’re tired, your hands smell like sulfur, and your posture is permanently straightened, but you’ve learned.

You ace the exam. You don’t just pass; you get one of the highest scores in the class.

“THAT’S MY HENCHHUMAN!” Grim crows, puffing his chest out like he took the test himself. “We’re unstoppable!”

Ace and Deuce, however, are staring at you like you’ve just revealed you’re a double agent.

“You went to Vil for help?!” Ace squawks. “That’s betrayal! Treason! You’re a traitor to the First-Year Study Group™!”

“You think you know someone,” Deuce adds solemnly, shaking his head.

“It’s not my fault you two were trying to use breadcrumbs in a potion!” you fire back.

“That’s not the point!”

Ignoring their melodrama, you bolt to Pomefiore to thank Vil.

Vil is sitting by the window, gazing out at the gardens with a cup of tea in hand. He looks up as you burst in, all smiles and gratitude.

“Vil!” you exclaim, practically skipping toward him. “I passed! Thank you so much!”

He raises an elegant eyebrow. “Of course you did. I wasn’t about to waste my time on a lost cause.”

You throw your arms around him in a quick, impulsive hug. “You’re amazing, seriously. I’ll thank you properly later, but for now—” You lean up and kiss him on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

Before Vil can react, you’re already sprinting out the door, leaving him sitting there with a stunned expression.

Moments later, Rook appears, materializing like the cryptid he is. “Ah, Roi du Poison,” he coos, his smile wicked. “You’re absolutely smitten, aren’t you?”

Vil sighs, shaking his head, but there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Be quiet, Rook.”

“Ah, silence is the language of love!” Rook declares dramatically. “But your face says it all! Mon dieu, how adorable.”

Vil doesn’t even bother denying it. He simply takes another sip of tea, thinking of your smile.

It’s 4 a.m. The witching hour. You’re blissfully cocooned in your blankets, dreaming of peaceful, non-chaotic things, when a sharp tap tap tap jolts you from your slumber. At first, you think it’s your imagination, but the tapping persists, growing louder and more insistent. You crack open one groggy eye, then the other. You blink at the sound’s source.

Your window.

“Window?” you mumble in confusion, still half-asleep. Then you see him. Rook Hunt. Perched precariously on the ledge like some kind of medieval gargoyle but with better fashion sense. He’s waving at you with such enthusiasm you’d think he were auditioning for a cheerleading squad.

Your brain, still booting up, goes: Of course. This is perfectly normal.

Then, a second later: WAIT A MINUTE—WHAT?!

“Rook?” you hiss-whisper, stumbling to the window. “Why are you—” You stop mid-sentence because his face is a mask of sheer panic. “What’s wrong?”

He places a dramatic hand on his chest, his voice trembling with urgency. “Mon amie! It is an emergency of the highest order!”

Heart pounding, you throw open the window. “What happened?! Is someone hurt?! Did something explode?! Is Vil—”

Rook nods gravely. “It is Roi du Poison.”

Your stomach plummets. He doesn’t have to say anything more. If something’s wrong with Vil, you’re going to help. You’re his friend, his confidant, his designated earplug during Rook’s poetic soliloquies.

You don’t hesitate; you grab your coat and shoes and sprint out the door, trailing after Rook, who somehow manages to make a full-on run look like a choreographed ballet.

The journey to Pomefiore is a blur of panic and adrenaline. You’re preparing yourself for the worst. Was Vil poisoned? Did he collapse during some over-the-top skincare ritual? Is it gasp the end of his perfect reign? By the time you burst into Vil’s room, you’re practically on the verge of tears.

“Vil!” you cry, rushing to his bedside. “Are you okay? What’s happening?!”

Vil, propped up against a mountain of silk covered pillows, looks up from his tissue box, pale but undeniably still Vil. His expression is unimpressed, though there’s a faint red tinge to his nose that he’d probably die before admitting to.

“I have a cold,” he says flatly, voice slightly nasal.

You blink. Once. Twice. You slowly turn to look at Rook, who is leaning dramatically against the doorway, one hand over his heart like he’s auditioning for Hamlet.

“A cold?” you echo.

Rook nods solemnly. “Oui! But what is a mere cold to a shining star like Vil? Even the smallest ailment feels like a tragedy!”

Without breaking eye contact, you grab a tissue from Vil’s nightstand and throw it at Rook’s head. He catches it mid-air with a flourish.

“I thought he was dying!” you snap, your voice somewhere between exhausted and hysterical.

Vil sighs deeply, like you’re all inconveniencing him. “Well, I feel like I’m dying,” he mutters, reaching for another tissue with the elegance of a dying swan.

Despite wanting to throttle both Vil and Rook, you stay. Because deep down, you care about Vil (and because Rook is lurking in the shadows, making escape impossible). Armed with tissues, herbal tea, and the resolve of a saint, you declare yourself Vil’s official nurse.

“Do you need anything?” you ask, pulling a blanket higher up his shoulders.

Vil sniffs. “I need… another pillow. This one is too flat.”

You grab another pillow and fluff it to perfection. “Better?”

“No, this one is too fluffy.”

You fight the urge to scream. But you adjust the pillow again. And again. And again.

Moments later:

“This tea is too hot.” You cool it.

“This tea is too cold.” You reheat it.

“This lighting is too harsh.” You dim it.

“This lighting is too dim.” You—wait, what??

For hours, you cater to his every whim with the patience of a saint. Vil complains about the temperature, his blanket, the angle of his tissue box. He’s fussy, demanding, and dramatic, but you take it all in stride.

Why? Because deep down, you know he’d never ask for help unless he really needed it. And because Vil, even at his most irritating, is still someone you care about. Maybe even have a crush on but that's a problem for future you.

Rook occasionally pops in to offer poetic encouragement. You ignore him.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Vil falls asleep, his perfect features soft and peaceful. You, however, collapse on the couch in the corner of the room, absolutely spent.

The next morning, Vil wakes up feeling… better. His fever has broken, his headache has subsided, and for the first time in days, he doesn’t feel like his body is actively rebelling against him. He sits up and looks around, finding you passed out on the couch, still clutching a crumpled tissue in one hand.

He notices the dark circles under your eyes, the way you’re curled up in an awkward position, the slight shiver in your frame from not having a blanket. And for the first time, Vil feels something unfamiliar. Guilt. And a deep affection.

As the morning light filters into the room, he glances at you one last time, his expression softening. “Once I recover,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible, “I’ll tell you.”

And with that, Vil Schoenheit makes a silent vow. The next time you nurse him through anything, it will be with him as your devoted partner—and not because of a misunderstanding orchestrated by a certain overdramatic huntsman.

It hits you like a truck in the middle of class: you’re in love with Vil Schoenheit.

Not a crush, not admiration—you’re down horrendous. Butterflies are doing pirouettes in your stomach every time he talks to you, and his slightest smile makes you feel like you’ve been hit by a blinding spotlight.

You try denial. (“It’s just his aura. He does this to everyone!”) You try avoidance. (“If I don’t look at him, I can’t fall harder, right?”) But none of it works. Every time he critiques your posture or gives you that sly smirk, it’s game over.

Finally, you give in. “Okay, fine! I’ll confess!” you announce to Grim, who’s lounging on the couch.

“Good luck,” Grim snickers. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“I am about to be sick!” you shriek. “This is Vil! What if he laughs? What if he just… stares at me in that terrifying way he does when Epel says something stupid?”

“Then I’ll eat your dinner as consolation,” Grim says, ever supportive.

You prepare like your life depends on it.

Step One: Flowers. You pick out the most gorgeous bouquet, ones that practically scream, I’m hopelessly in love with you, please don’t let me die of embarrassment.

Step Two: A handwritten card. You pour your heart onto the paper with the eloquence of a poet. “You’re incredible,” you write. “Not just because you’re beautiful, but because of your strength, your kindness, and the way you inspire everyone around you. I… I love you.” You almost combust just writing it.

Step Three: Look your best. You pick an outfit that’s just shy of trying too hard and hope it’s enough to make you look like someone worthy of confessing to Vil Schoenheit.

“Alright,” you say, holding your bouquet like it’s a shield. “Here goes nothing.”

“Don’t trip and fall on your face!” Grim calls after you.

You’re halfway to Pomefiore, sweating bullets and trying to remember how to breathe, when you see him.

Vil is walking toward you, dressed impeccably as always, carrying… a bouquet of his own?

Your heart skips several beats, and you’re suddenly extremely nervous—the kind of nervous that makes your palms sweat, your knees weak, and your brain do somersaults. You feel like a malfunctioning automaton.

“Oh,” Vil says, his gaze locking onto you. He stops a few feet away, his eyes flickering between you and the bouquet in your hands. “Out for a stroll?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer, gripping your flowers tighter.

Vil tilts his head slightly, and you swear he looks… annoyed? “And the flowers?” he asks, his tone calm but sharp, like a scalpel. “A gift for someone special, perhaps?”

You freeze. “Uh—”

Before you can answer, Vil’s gaze shifts to the card sticking out of your bouquet. He reaches out and plucks it before you can stop him. Your soul briefly leaves your body.

He reads it silently, his face betraying nothing, until—

“Oh.”

His tone is quiet, and you’re horrified to see a flicker of heartbreak in his expression. “I see.”

“Wait! It’s not what it looks like!” you blurt, waving your hand like a maniac. “The flowers are for you! The card is for you! I just… forgot to sign it.”

Vil blinks, his lips parting slightly in surprise. Then, to your immense relief, he chuckles—a soft, melodic sound that sends your heart into a frenzy. “You forgot to sign it?” he repeats, amused.

You nod vigorously, clutching the bouquet like your life depends on it. “I was too busy panicking, okay?!”

Vil shakes his head, his smile widening. “Of course. Only you would confess in such a manner.” He steps closer, his own bouquet now visible. “It seems we had the same idea today.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what he means. “Wait… those flowers…?”

“For you,” Vil says simply. “Though I’ll admit, for a moment, I thought they might be unnecessary.”

You stare at each other, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. Then, Vil takes your bouquet from your trembling hands and replaces it with his own.

“They suit you better,” he murmurs.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, he leans in and presses his lips softly against yours.

The world seems to blur around you, and all you can feel is Vil—his warmth, his scent, the tenderness of his touch. When he pulls back, he’s smiling at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky.

“Let’s not wait so long to be honest with each other next time,” he says softly.

You nod, dazed and giddy. “Y-Yeah, totally.”

As he intertwines his fingers with yours, leading you back toward Ramshackle, you realize one thing: The first year gang is never going to let you live this down.

But to be honest, you really don’t care. Not when Vil Schoenheit is looking at you like you're the only ones left on the planet.

1k Masterlist ; Main Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x you #vil schoenheit #vil #1k event

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kissylec · 4 months ago

Text

RAFE'S DREAM.

directed by love you goodbye...

pairing . . . rafe cameon x pogue!reader in which . . . in an unexpected late night conversation, rafe thinks it's the right time to tell his dream warning .ᐟ . . . mentions of smut, wedding talk, fluff at the end. english is not my first language w count . . . 1.0k kissylec says . . . HI IS THIS THING ON? i didn't want to end love you goodbye like that out of the blue, so i brought you a nice extra so you don't cry so much

masterlist .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚 navigation .ᐟ

RAFE RARELY ASKED YOU TO STAY. The first time he did was when he had done so many drugs that he ended up having a nervous breakdown. That night you stayed until you were sure he was okay. That day was different, although you couldn't understand why.

Stay.

It was a request that came out of his mouth just as he reached his orgasm, your breath stuck in your throat as you felt him paint your walls with his cum. You thought you had heard wrong, but as if Rafe was reading your mind, the words came out of his mouth again.

"Stay" he breathes. "Stay the night."

You swallowed hard and your lips parted. Your eyes fluttered open slightly, feeling your lashes wet from the few tears that had gathered at the edge of your eyes when rafe hit your cervix over and over again.

“I—” you started, but Rafe was determined.

“I'll give a ride in the morning” he says, his voice raspy against the skin of your neck, giving you convincing kisses. “I promise.”

And it wasn't hard to convince you. You stayed.

The grey sheets caressed your bare skin as you hugged him, legs intertwined in front of the television at zero volume, playing a show about weddings. The air conditioning was on, but your body still felt hot. And suddenly Rafe's bed had never felt as big and comfortable as it did at that moment.

You felt his hand caress your back, your head on his chest allowing you to hear his heart, which was beating calmly. Rafe's eyes felt heavy, and instinctively he snuggled closer to your body.

You licked your lips, staring at the television. The program on was planning a wedding in Italy, making you smile unconsciously as you watched the bride's excitement over her dress. The corset had an exquisite pattern, the sleeves were lace and the skirt fell delicately, the dress worthy of a princess. It wasn't white, but rather a creamy shade, making it look more delicate and unique.

“I always wanted to get married in Tuscany” your lips blurted out, almost uncontrollably.

Rafe opened his eyes instantly. “Hm?"

Your lips parted, your gaze fixed on the television.

“If I’m going to get married, I'd like to do it in Tuscany,” you murmured. “Nothing too big or too… flashy.”

Rafe gulped, his gaze going to the television. His mind wanders to a dream he had, and it seemed like the perfect time to tell it.

"I—" he starts, his words dying on his lips. "I had a dream once…"

You raise your head, and Rafe mentally cursed, thinking it would be easier to tell you all this with you not looking at him.

"I don't want to be weird and shit, it's not my plan," he mutters. "But—uh, I had this dream that I was marrying you."

He seemed to be making it up, something he's probably saying because you said you wanted to get married. His eyes drifting back to the TV, avoiding your gaze.

"Did you?" you asked.

Rafe nodded his head. “Yeah,” he said. “It wasn’t in Italy anyway, it was here,” he continued. “Secretly.”

You looked at his lips, unconsciously nodding your head.

"You had this beautiful white dress on... and the veil was falling over your face," Rafe says, his gaze going to you. "You looked gorgeous."

You felt your heart race, and you stopped to think. This was too intimate, which was a joke, because Rafe had been inside you countless times, which was way more intimate. But talking about a wedding? Another level you never thought you would touch, especially with him.

"And what does that mean?" you asked.

"What does what mean?"

"Your dream."

"Well, it doesn't mean anything," Rafe answers, his gaze shifting to the television.

Your eyebrows furrow and your head lifts slightly. "Dreams always mean something," you insist.

The one who frowned this time was Rafe. “Not this one,” he says. “This one doesn’t mean shit.”

You quickly sat up in bed, the sheet falling off your chest leaving it exposed, catching rafe’s eyes.

“You dreamed we were getting married and it doesn’t mean anything?” you asked incredulously.

Rafe lets out a tired breath through his nose, his eyes closing as his head began to throb. "It was just a dream, you don't need to look for an answer to everything."

"So you wouldn't marry me?"

His eyes instantly opened, bringing his frown to you. "What?"

"Answer the question," you insisted.

Rafe parts his lips, looking you up and down. "I—" he begins. "Yes I would marry you."

"Don't bullshit me."

"I'm not" Rafe sat up in bed.

The atmosphere in the room had changed, as if it was colder and your lips felt dry. You didn't know why you were so offended by the idea of Rafe not wanting to marry you, but it bothered you, so much that just thinking about it made your stomach hurt immensely.

"I would marry you," Rafe repeats. "I—I didn't want to—" he stumbles over his words. "I didn't want to make this weird or awkward."

"Why would you make it awkward?"

"Because I'm not supposed to want to marry you," Rafe says.

Your heart starts racing faster than it can possibly go, because Rafe wasn't telling any lies, he shouldn't want to marry you and you shouldn't want to marry him, but at that moment, it was an idea that sounded brilliant and wonderful in your head.

"I want to marry you too" you said without even thinking twice.

Rafe opened his eyes wide, as if your comment was the stupidest thing he had ever heard, but after a few moments, he let out a sigh that he didn't know he was holding back.

"Great."

"Great," you imitated him.

You swallowed hard, lying back down on the bed, close to him. "Turn off the TV, I'm sleepy," you said, covering yourself up to your shoulders.

Rafe couldn't help but smile, grabbing the remote from his nightstand and turning off the television. "I don't want a bossy wife."

"Shut up, yes you do."

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bytemee · 4 months ago

Text

EVERYTHING I WANT — yu jimin.

"i had finally figured out, you were just around the corner."

synopsis. you’re just the wedding planner for your brother’s wedding, trying to keep it all together. but karina, his fiancée, keeps slipping under your skin. she’s perfect—everything you’ve ever wanted—but she’s marrying your brother.

pairing. brothers!fiance!karina x wedding!planner!fem!reader

warning(s). angst w a mixture of fluff, love triangle, cheating (im sorry), angst with a happy ending.

words. 5.7k

authors note. i remember watching a gay movie like this.

navigation. main masterlist.

karina has a way of capturing the attention of everyone in a room, and her presence alone is enough to make the world pause. she walks in, all bright eyes and effortless grace, and somehow the entire room shifts to accommodate her. it’s almost like she belongs in a space much grander than this, but then, that’s karina—always radiant, always a little untouchable.

you’ve noticed it countless times before—it's part of the reason why your parents are so calm with the idea of your brother marrying her only months after they've met. karina—your brother’s fiancée, the one they think is perfect in every way. karina—the one who is everything they always hoped for in a partner for him. karina—the one who practically begged you to plan her wedding.

you have to admit, they make a beautiful couple. the way karina and your brother stand in the kitchen, laughing over something she said while she chops vegetables, her hands moving easily, like she’s done this a hundred times. your brother’s smiling at her like she’s the only person in the world. it’s all so natural, so effortless. you can’t deny that they love each other—it’s one of those things you just know. like the feeling of the ground beneath your feet or the wind against your skin. it’s just a fact.

it was the first time in a while you've been to their house, but your brother practically forced you into staying at his while you planned the wedding. they don't seem to mind, which is probably good considering you've taken over the living room as a workspace, with papers and decorations and fabric samples spread out across the coffee table and the couch.

but regardless, the two haven't decided on a venue yet, so the planning process is still in full swing. you had a list of about five venues you thought were promising, and you were hoping they'd settle on one soon so you could stop having to lug around your binder everywhere.

karina finishes up her task and sets the knife down, washing her hands off before she turns to you.

she walks over with that signature smile of hers, the one that makes everything seem like it’s shining just a little brighter. “hey, can we talk about the venue options for a sec?” she asks, her voice smooth like velvet, like it always is.

you glance up from the pile of papers in front of you, your gaze meeting hers for a second too long. the way she’s standing there, close enough to reach out and touch, makes it hard to focus. you blink, trying to get your head back in the game. “uh, yeah, sure. what’s on your mind?”

she leans against the back of the couch, her arms crossing lightly over her chest. “i know we’ve got some good options, but…” she hesitates for a moment, as if carefully considering her next words. “i’ve always wanted a wedding on the beach. you know, like those dreamy ones you see in magazines?”

you freeze for a moment, your fingers lingering over the corner of your binder. the beach. you can’t help the pang that hits you when she says it, because it's something you've always imagined for your own wedding one day, not anyone else’s. it’s silly, of course—you shouldn't have gotten so attached to a fantasy. but you can't help it. you'd always imagined a wedding on the beach, with the sun setting over the waves and sand beneath your feet.

she tilts her head a little, as if trying to figure out what's wrong. when you don't say anything, she speaks again, her tone more gentle. "are you okay?"

you try to shake it off, but karina always seems to notice everything. it's a little bit impressive, really. "oh, i'm fine. just a little tired." you quickly speak again before she can question you further. “you know, your fiancé’s pretty set on that greenhouse. it’s a pretty big deal for him.”

she nods, a small frown tugging at her lips. “i know,” she says softly. “i just can’t help but dream of the beach.” she pauses, then her eyes soften, and she adds with a little more playfulness, "i’ll let you handle the tough decisions. you’re the expert here, after all.”

you hate to let her down, but the odds of convincing your brother to change his mind are low. the greenhouse was his idea, and it means a lot to him, since your father married your mom there years ago. he had talked about wanting to recreate that day, the way the light filtered in through the glass, the flowers all around. his eyes had sparkled as he spoke, like he could imagine the entire scene unfolding before him. you couldn’t bring yourself to say no, not when he had been so excited.

you give a small laugh. “i’m just the wedding planner. you’re the one who has to live with the choice.”

she grins at you before walking away.

but even though you tell yourself it won't be your fault if she doesn't get her dream wedding, the guilt doesn't go away. you just hope she won't hate you for not being able to deliver the perfect day she's been waiting for.

you watch as she heads back over to the kitchen, your gaze lingering on her a little longer than it should. her smile is bright as ever, the one you're not sure you've ever seen her without, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

you swallow, then return to your work.

the venue. you can't get distracted. you're good at your job. you can do this.

the next few days pass in a flurry of phone calls and emails, and you're barely keeping track of which venue you're supposed to be going to see next. you've visited a handful, but it seems like they've all had the same issue—they don't have the space for the kind of wedding karina's dreaming of.

the pressure is starting to wear on you. you’ve been juggling so many details, from flowers to photographers to caterers, but every venue just feels off in one way or another. some are too big, some too small. others don’t have the kind of beachy vibe karina’s been dreaming of, and you can tell she’s starting to get a little discouraged.

you can see the way her shoulders slump when another place doesn’t meet her expectations, the way she tries to mask her disappointment with that perfect smile of hers. it’s hard to watch. but you also know this is her dream, her wedding. she deserves to have everything she’s envisioned for years.

“i swear, if i see one more ballroom…” you mutter under your breath, flipping through another round of emails, trying to see if any of the new suggestions could work.

karina, seated across from you in the café, lets out a small laugh. “you’re telling me. but we’ve got to keep looking, right?”

you look up, meeting her gaze for the first time in a while. she looks exhausted, her makeup a little faded from a long day of venue tours, but her smile is as warm as ever. it makes your heart ache.

you swallow, then turn back to your phone. "yeah. yeah, we do." you take a sip of your drink, not even removing your eyes from the screen. "i've been hearing a lot of good things about this one place, though."

karina leans forward, her elbows resting on the table. "which one?"

but before you can reply, a giggle leaves her lips, and she points to the side of your nose. "oh my god, you've got whipped cream on your nose. let me…"

her hand reaches out, and then she's touching you, her thumb brushing over the tip of your nose, sending shivers down your spine. she pulls her hand back, a little whipped cream on her thumb.

she smiles. "got it."

you blink, and your brain short-circuits for a second. her touch was so fleeting, but the warmth lingers.

she doesn't notice, already turned back to your phone ready to see the venue you were muttering about.

you exhale. the venue. right. focus.

and then, it happens.

when you get back home, an hour later you hear it from the other room—a loud argument, your brother's voice booming, and karina's pleading for him to just listen. your eyes widen. you'd never heard her raise her voice like that before.

they’ve always been so perfect together, but now, the disagreement over the wedding venue seems to be pushing things too far. you can’t make out the exact words, but you catch a few—the beach, the greenhouse, and your name a couple of times. the door slams shortly after, and everything falls silent.

you glance at the door leading to the hallway, torn between going to see what’s going on and staying out of it. the last thing you want is to get caught in the middle of their argument, but part of you can't help but feel concerned. this isn’t like them—karina, always the picture of composure, and your brother, usually so patient. it doesn’t add up.

you hear footsteps and then a quiet knock at the door. "are you awake?"

you take a deep breath. "yeah, come in."

the door opens, and karina walks in, looking as stunning as ever. her face is still flushed from the argument, but her hair is swept to the side, the light catching on her earrings. even in a moment like this, she's effortlessly beautiful.

"hey," you say softly, motioning toward the couch. "are you okay?"

she sits down beside you, her body relaxing a little, like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. she nods, taking a deep breath before speaking. "i'm fine. we're fine."

you tilt your head, not fully believing her. you've been friends for years, after all. you can tell when she's holding something back. "are you sure? because i heard—"

"we're fine," she repeats, a little more firmly.

you nod, but you still feel unsure. it's clear they need some time to themselves, and you can't force her to tell you what's going on. “you know,” you say, shifting beside her, “if you need a break, we could do something completely different. a distraction. a moment just for you.”

she looks at you, eyes wide, clearly intrigued by the offer. “like what?”

a slow grin spreads across your face. “let’s get food for starters. and then…"

she cuts you off before you can finish. "as long as it involves wine, i'm in."

the smile is back, and your heart aches with it. you've missed seeing her smile, the way her eyes crinkle at the edges, her whole body seeming lighter. it's a feeling you never want to let go of.

without missing a beat, you get up and grab your keys. “perfect. let's go!"

you hold your hand out, and her fingers are warm in yours as you lead her out the door.

the two of you end up parked in front of a small, neon-lit burger joint tucked away on a quiet street. it’s one of those old-school places with a bright red roof and a hand-painted menu board by the drive-thru. it looks like it hasn't changed much since it was built decades ago, but that's exactly why you love it.

karina’s sitting cross-legged in the passenger seat, the bottle of wine you impulsively grabbed resting between you. you’d managed to snag a couple of burgers and fries to go, and now the two of you are tucked away in the car, sharing fries like you’re the only people in the world.

“this is so random,” she says, laughing softly. she’s still got a bit of a flush from earlier—whether from the wine or the argument, you’re not sure. but for now, you try not to think about it. you don't want to ruin the moment.

“that’s what makes it perfect,” you reply, passing her a fry. she takes it with a smile, your fingers brushing briefly. your heart trips over itself at the contact, and you reach for the bottle of wine to take another sip. it’s not the fanciest vintage, but it’s doing the job.

karina takes the bottle next, swiping at the neck before drinking straight from it. when she lowers it, her eyes are sparkling with something mischievous. “i always liked the idea of writing my vows on something unconventional,” she says suddenly, resting her head against the seat. “like in the movies. you know, scribbled on the back of a napkin or a burger wrapper. something spontaneous and real.”

you can’t help but laugh. “we’ve got burger wrappers right here.”

her eyes light up. “you’re kidding.”

“i’m not.”

she sets down the bottle and grabs the crumpled wrappers from the bag. “alright. let’s do it. right here, right now. our mock wedding.”

you raise an eyebrow. this was not how you thought the night was going to go, but then again, karina has always been full of surprises. she looks so excited at the idea; you can't bring yourself to say no. you're already in this deep, after all.

you grab a pen from the glove compartment, the tipsy energy between you growing contagious. you hand it over, and karina carefully smooths out one of the wrappers on her lap.

“alright,” she declares, biting back a grin. “i vow to always share my fries with you. even the crispy ones.”

you snort. “that’s a big promise.”

“and i vow to never judge you for eating burgers at midnight,” she adds, her grin widening.

“okay, my turn,” you say, leaning in. “i vow to always keep you stocked up on wine and burgers. and fries. all the good stuff. just in case of an emergency, of course. or for a spontaneous road trip. whichever comes first, i guess."

you're both giggling, and then her smile softens. she looks at you with those eyes, and for a moment, the rest of the world falls away. then her expression shifts. she takes a deep breath, fingers toying with the pen. “one more,” she says, her voice quieter now. “i vow to always be someone you can turn to, no matter what. even when things get messy or complicated.”

her eyes are still on yours, and you can't bring yourself to break the contact. you feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs, and it's almost too much, too fast.

you finally manage to get the words out, your voice coming out a little strained. "i promise too."

karina smiles softly, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from your face. “let’s go somewhere,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“where?” you ask, still breathless.

she glances at the horizon, where the stars are just beginning to scatter across the night sky. “the beach.”

without another word, you put the car in drive and head toward the coast. the streets are quiet, the hum of the tires against the road the only sound as the town fades behind you. it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist—just you, karina, and the open road.

when you arrive, the beach is deserted, bathed in moonlight and the soft crashing of waves. you both kick off your shoes and walk toward the shoreline, the sand cool beneath your feet. karina stops just shy of the water, turning to face you.

“alright,” she says, holding out her hand. “let’s make this official.”

you laugh, taking her hand. “this is the most spontaneous fake wedding i’ve ever been a part of.”

her grin is wide, a little wild, like she’s already planning something outrageous. “just wait until our real wedding. then it’ll really be a show.”

the words hit you harder than expected—our real wedding. your mind flashes with an image: karina walking down the aisle, her dress swishing with every elegant step, her smile lighting up the whole room.

karina squeezes your hand gently, bringing you back to reality. "are you ready?"

you give her a tiny nod. “i’m ready.”

she turns to face you, her smile dimming just enough to make the moment feel serious. she takes a steadying breath before starting. “i vow to always share my fries with you—even the crispy ones.”

you grin. "i vow to not get jealous when you share your fries with someone else."

"that's a fair point." she pauses for a moment, glancing at the moon overhead. when she speaks again, her voice is softer. "i vow to not forget about all the nights we've stayed up talking, the sun just starting to rise, and how i could listen to your voice forever. and i vow to always be someone you can count on, no matter what."

her words make your heart ache. you swallow, trying to push down the feeling. "i vow to never give up, even when things get tough. even when everything's changing around us. and i vow to always be a place you can run to."

the words hang between you for a moment, and you feel like the whole world has stopped. everything feels surreal, like a dream, the kind you're afraid of waking up from. then she steps closer, so close you can feel the warmth radiating off her. her next words are softer, more serious, the playfulness stripped away. “do you vow to take me to the best burger joints at midnight?”

your voice is quieter now too. “i do.”

“do you vow to share your fries with me, even the crispy ones?”

“i do.”

she takes a small, shaky breath, her gaze locked on yours. “and do you vow to always be my friend? to stand by me, even when things get hard or messy?”

your throat tightens, but somehow you manage to speak. “i do.”

karina’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t smile fully. there's something vulnerable in her expression, like she's revealing a piece of herself she's never shown before. "do you promise to always remember tonight? how special this moment is?"

"i do."

she nods, her eyes shining. "good. because i do, too."

her gaze drops to your lips, and you realize what she's doing a second too late. before you can even process what's happening, her mouth is on yours, warm and soft and sweet. it's the kind of kiss you feel all the way down to your toes, the kind that makes the rest of the world disappear.

it's everything and nothing all at once.

then the moment passes, and she's pulling away, a little breathless. "i'm sorry. i just…"

you blink, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes out.

she swallows, then steps back, her cheeks flushed. "i'm sorry, i don't know what came over me. that was stupid. we should go."

she turns and walks off, her footsteps echoing through the darkness. you watch her leave, not daring to say anything, because if you speak, you'll break the spell. you'll wake up from this dream, and it'll all be gone, and this moment will be lost forever.

karina speedwalks to your car, her ears hot and her head spinning. what the hell did i just do? she opens the car door and climbs in, her body feeling weightless. the kiss was an impulse, a split-second decision, and now she's left wondering why the hell she thought it was a good idea.

you get in the car a moment later, your expression unreadable. you're silent for a few beats, then you clear your throat. "here take my jacket," you say, reaching over to drape it around her shoulders. "you look cold."

her chest tightens. of course, you're being kind and sweet. god, why did she have to ruin the moment?

she takes the jacket, but it does nothing to warm the chill that's seeped into her bones. she's so confused. one minute, she's getting engaged, and the next, she's kissing you, the one person who's never given her a reason to doubt. she feels like she's falling apart, piece by piece.

"let's get you home," you say quietly, starting the car.

karina nods, her eyes focused on the window. the rest of the ride is silent, neither of you daring to say a word.

a month passed since that night—the kiss that left you spinning and karina’s unexpected confession. you’d both fallen into a strange rhythm after that. conversations were shorter, more careful, as if the words had to be handled with gloves. and though things seemed okay on the surface, there was a distance that neither of you knew how to bridge.

she was still okay with the greenhouse. you’d finalized every last detail together, but it felt like neither of you were talking about what really mattered. instead, you both threw yourselves into the wedding planning like it was the only way to keep moving forward.

it was just after midnight when you found yourself back in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water. it had been a long day, and your mind was still racing. you stood there for a while, sipping slowly, mind wandering.

the front door creaked open. your brother stumbled in, his suit rumpled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. his eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of whiskey and something faintly floral—perfume. you could guess what had happened.

“company celebration,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “big news… big, big news.”

you wrapped an arm around him and helped him upstairs. he leaned on you heavily, his usually confident demeanor dulled by the alcohol. when you sat him down on the edge of your bed, you noticed it—lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt, faint but undeniable.

your stomach twisted. you swallowed hard, forcing the lump in your throat down. it was none of your business. after all, she cheated as well...with you.

after he passed out, you quietly shut the door and went back downstairs. there was no sleep to be found, not when your thoughts were tangled in the events of what's happened over the past three months—the kiss, karina’s sudden agreement to the greenhouse wedding, the lipstick stains. it was too much.

you sat at the dining room table and pulled out your laptop. the wedding planning documents filled the screen, emails flooding in with suggestions and changes. you worked mindlessly, letting the repetition of it all keep your thoughts at bay.

the hours bled into one another, and before you knew it, pale sunlight was breaking through the windows. your eyes burned, your muscles ached, but you couldn’t stop.

footsteps behind you made you freeze.

karina.

her hair was a mess of loose waves, and she wore one of those oversized pajama shirts she loved. she had two mugs of coffee in hand, the familiar scent of hazelnut filling the room. without a word, she placed one in front of you.

“you’ve been up all night,” she said quietly.

“i had things to do,” you answered, not meeting her eyes.

karina sighed, taking in the dark circles under your eyes and the tension in your shoulders. “you’re burning yourself out.”

when you didn’t say anything, she walked around the table and stood behind you. her hands found your shoulders, fingers pressing gently into the knots there. she massaged in slow circles, her thumbs working out the tightness you hadn’t even noticed.

her voice was soft as she spoke, barely more than a whisper. "you should get some sleep. you can't keep doing this."

but you were too tired, too worn down, to respond. you couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of her hands on your shoulders, the warmth of her touch sinking into your skin.

she leaned down, her breath tickling your ear. "can we talk?"

"yeah," you managed.

karina let go and moved to the seat across from you. she looked like she was struggling with something, the same look from the night at the beach, when she had asked you to promise her to remember. her fingers tapped on the mug. you could tell she was stalling, trying to decide what to say, but eventually, the words came.

"i'm sorry."

you were sorry too. for so many things, but you didn't say them out loud. instead, you just nodded.

"i never meant for this to happen," she said. "but it's all getting a little too much."

you were exhausted. tired of everything—the wedding, the kiss, the feelings. tired of being the planner. tired of pretending everything was fine when it wasn't.

karina's gaze dropped to her hands, her voice small. "i didn't mean to make things weird between us. i just didn't know what to do."

"it's okay," you replied, because it was all you could say.

"it's not," she insisted. "you're my best friend. i don't want to lose that."

she was right. you were her best friend. she was supposed to be marrying your brother, not making out with you at midnight. the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"we'll get through this. together." you tried to sound convincing, but it fell flat.

"will we?" her voice was barely audible. "you've been pushing me away for weeks. i can tell."

you shook your head, but it was pointless. the truth was staring you in the face, and it wasn't pretty.

karina sighed, her gaze lifting from the table to meet yours. "i'm sorry. i don't want things to be awkward between us. i don't want this to change things."

her eyes were filled with such honesty and vulnerability, it made your chest ache. you wanted to reach out, hold her, and reassure her that everything was going to be okay, but you couldn't. you couldn't bring yourself to lie.

you rubbed your hands over your face, trying to ease the tension building behind your eyes. the words were stuck, clawing at your throat, desperate to escape. but what could you say?everything was so tangled.

“i’m not pushing you away,” you finally managed, though it felt hollow. “i just… don’t know how to handle all this.”

she gave you a weak smile, but her eyes were still sad.

the silence stretched between you, growing heavier with each passing moment. neither of you knew what to say.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” she said suddenly, her voice trembling.

your stomach twisted, and you had to look away. “you’re not hurting me.”

it was a lie, and you both knew it. but what good would the truth do?

karina sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. she looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in days. maybe she hadn’t. “i just want us to be okay. like before.”

“before,” you repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. before everything. before the kiss. before you saw your brother stumble in last night, lipstick stains betrayed his lies.

she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "yeah, before. like we promised in our vows."

you let out a breath. was she really bringing this up now? "our fake vows."

karina flinched, as if your words had physically struck her. she looked at you, her eyes pleading. "you promised to always remember that night. that's not nothing."

you closed your eyes, trying to block out the memory. it was a mistake. a stupid, impulsive decision. one you shouldn't have made. one you shouldn't be thinking about.

"look, it's fine. we'll just forget it ever happened. like we're supposed to."

"are we?"

you stared at her, your throat tightening. "yes. because that's what's best. for everyone."

she swallowed, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. "okay. if that's what you want."

"it is." the words were heavy, weighing on your chest, crushing the air from your lungs.

"alright. then i guess we should go back to planning."

she forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. the conversation was over.

and that was it. you tried not to think about the kiss or the way her hand had felt in yours. but the memories lingered, refusing to let go.

the day of the wedding arrived. you stood at the back of the greenhouse, feeling out of place as the carefully chosen flowers, delicate white drapes, and twinkling fairy lights filled the space with a sense of serenity that felt foreign to you. everything about this moment was supposed to be beautiful, perfect, just as your brother had imagined. but you couldn’t shake the unease that knotted in your stomach.

the ceremony was supposed to feel like a celebration, a milestone in their lives. but it wasn’t. the sight of your brother, standing at the altar with the priest, waiting for karina, made something inside you tighten. he was smiling, his hands clasped together in anticipation. but the thought of him with her—knowing everything that had happened between the two of you—suddenly felt wrong. not to mention what he did himself.

and then, she appeared.

karina entered, her arm linked with your father’s, walking down the aisle with the grace of someone who belonged in a dream. the flowing ivory gown clung to her figure in a way that made your breath catch. the soft music playing in the background seemed to fade as you watched her approach, unable to tear your eyes away.

her gaze flickered to you for the briefest of moments. it was only a glance, but it held so much. the quiet acknowledgment that things weren’t the way they were supposed to be. that this wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.

you could barely breathe. you had promised to be strong, to be there for her. but seeing her like this, walking down the aisle toward your brother, was impossible. all the promises you had made, all the words you had told her in the days leading up to this, suddenly felt so hollow. she wasn’t yours. she never had been, and yet, everything inside you screamed that she should be.

you couldn’t stay.

without thinking, you turned and quietly slipped out of the greenhouse, avoiding the curious glances of your family. the sounds of the ceremony, the murmurs of the guests, faded as you walked, faster and faster, until you were outside, out of the view of the guests, heading straight for the beach.

the water was cool, the sand soft beneath your feet, the gentle breeze soothing. but it wasn't enough. you could still feel the ache in your chest, the heaviness that had settled there the moment you saw karina walking down the aisle.

you had been so certain that you could do this, that you could keep your promise and be there for her, no matter what. but now, standing on the beach, the waves washing over your feet, you realize how foolish it had been to think that.

you sank to the sand, burying your face in your hands. how had things gotten this far? how had everything become so tangled, so complicated, so fast? and why did it feel like your heart was being torn in two?

you were torn in so many directions, your mind spinning with thoughts of karina, of the kiss, of your brother, and of everything that had led to this moment. you wanted to scream, to let the confusion and frustration pour out of you, but you couldn’t. you couldn’t make sense of it all.

everything felt like it was unraveling, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. the hurt, the guilt, the love that you couldn’t seem to let go of—it all washed over you, suffocating you. you loved her. you had always loved her, but it was wrong. she was marrying your brother. it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you weren’t supposed to be the one to feel this way.

but the feeling was there, as real as the sand beneath your feet and the wind against your skin. you couldn't deny it, no matter how hard you tried.

"y/n."

your heart skipped a beat. you looked up, and there she was, standing at the edge of the sand. karina, still in her wedding dress, the fabric flowing around her as she stepped toward you, barefoot.

"y/n," she repeated, her voice soft, almost pleading.

you were frozen, unable to move, unable to speak. your throat tightened; the words stuck.

“what are you doing here?” you managed to ask, your voice wavering.

“i couldn’t let you go,” she said, her voice breathless. “i can’t let you walk away from me. not like this.”

you stood up, unsure of what to say, but before you could form any words, karina was running toward you, her wedding dress trailing behind her. she didn’t stop until she was right in front of you, her hands trembling as she reached for yours.

"i can’t marry him," she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "not when i feel like this. not when it’s you i want."

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. your mind raced. "karina, this isn’t—"

"i don’t care," she interrupted. "i can’t pretend anymore. i’m sorry. i should’ve told you sooner. i should’ve never let you go, even when i knew how wrong it was. but i can’t marry him when i’m in love with you."

you blinked, staring at her. in love with you. she was in love with you. the words echoed in your head, and you couldn't find the strength to speak.

"y/n, please. say something."

karina’s face crumpled, and she stepped closer, her hands trembling as she cupped your face. “please,” she whispered, “don’t let me lose you. you're everything i want."

her touch was warm, and you couldn't help but lean into it. she was so close, and you could feel her heartbeat, her breathing, her warmth. it was intoxicating, and before you knew what you were doing, your lips met hers, gentle and tender, as if she was afraid of breaking you.

but you couldn't break. not when she was kissing you like this. not when her lips were so soft, and her arms were around your waist, pulling you closer. it felt like the world was shifting, the ground giving way beneath your feet. but she was there, holding onto you, her grip tight and desperate, like she was afraid of losing you.

the kiss deepened, and everything else fell away. all you could feel was her. all you could think about was how right it felt, how perfect it was, and how this was the moment you had been waiting for. you were home, in her arms, and nothing else mattered.

the kiss broke, and karina pulled back, her breathing ragged. her eyes were bright, full of emotion, and you knew yours were the same.

"i love you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "i love you, and i'm sorry i didn't realize it sooner."

the words washed over you, and for the first time, everything felt right.

"i love you too," you breathed, not caring that it was wrong or that you shouldn't be saying it. you couldn't stop yourself, and the feeling of finally letting the words out was overwhelming. "you're everything i want…and more."

her eyes widened, and then a smile tugged at her lips, wide and bright, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. she kissed you again, fierce and passionate, and you could feel her joy, her relief, her love. it was the kind of kiss that made your heart swell, that made you feel like you were floating, and nothing could ever come between you.

"i'm yours," she whispered against your lips, her voice breaking. "i'll always be yours."

629 notes · View notes

dazevi · 5 months ago

Text

CHAPTER TWO: BY YOUR SIDE

heart to heart series | vi x fem!reader

synopsis: vi returns to her childhood home, overwhelmed by the past. vander encourages her to attend a wedding. and when you cross paths again, vi tries to do whatever she can to find a way back into your life.

content warnings: MDNI. angst, suggestive content, rockstar!vi, writer!reader, bookshop owner!reader, eventual exes to lovers, no smut yet, sexual tension, vi is looking respectfully, jaymel cameo, bestfriend!mel, mentions of alcohol and smoking, profanity, awkward reunion, mmm idk what im missing but lmk !

wc: 13,144

note: sorry for the wait! this chapter feels a little more like a build-up chapter but can’t wait to upload the later chapters ahhh !!! (fanart by bunimint_ on ig)

navigation | series masterlist | previous chapter

Vi stood in the doorway of her old bedroom, the strap of her guitar case digging into her shoulder. The house smelled the same—faintly of laundry detergent and the old wooden floors her mom used to obsessively polish when she was a kid.

It hadn’t changed, not a single thing about it.

The same pale red walls, the same band posters sloppily pinned up in the corners, curling at the edges with age. Her bed still sat against the wall beneath the window, the same worn quilt folded neatly at the edge like her mom still expected her to crawl into it every night. Even her desk was untouched, cluttered with textbooks and notebooks she hadn’t opened since she was eighteen, the pages frozen in time like she had only stepped out for a moment, not years.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes swept over the room, the memories that rushed back into her mind made her knees feel weak.

Late nights scribbling in her notebooks about songs she was too afraid to share with anyone, the afternoons spent sprawled across the bed on the phone with you, talking about nothing and everything all at once. She could almost hear your voice now, laughing softly as she played a chord wrong on her guitar, only for her to insist it was intentional because she claimed it was experimental.

Vi swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the handle of her suitcase.

She hated how small the room felt now, how it seemed to mock her. It once belonged to the girl she used to be—the girl who thought she had everything figured out, the girl who couldn’t wait to leave this town behind.

Now it felt like it was waiting to swallow her whole.

She set her suitcase down by the bed and eased the guitar case off her shoulder, placing it gently against the wall. She looked over to the corner of the room, and stepped up to her the older one, a faded acoustic with stickers all over the body, just resting against her desk. Her fingers brushed against the neck of the guitar—it was the same one she played since high school, the same one she used to play for you.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled Vi out of her thoughts, her head snapping up as she turned her head.

Vander stood there, leaning slightly against the wood, his massive arms crossed over his chest in that familiar way that always seemed to say everything’s fine, kid. He wore a faint smile, though his eyes were saying something else—relief, maybe, or concern. She wasn’t sure.

“Didn’t touch anything while you were gone,” he said, and chuckled lightly. “Figured I’d let you do that when you got back.”

Vi let out a breath, her lips twitching into the smallest of smiles, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She ran a hand over the back of her neck, trying to brush away some of the tension that had settled there since stepping out of the airport.

“Yeah, uh… thanks,” she mumbled, but it was quieter than she meant it to be.

Vander stepped inside, his boots heavy against the floorboards, and leaned against the edge of her desk like he used to when she was a teenager. Back then, he’d perch there with his arms crossed, asking about her day, actually try to help with her homework or teasing her for the mess she insisted wasn’t actually a mess.

Now, he stood there quietly, taking her in like he was trying to figure out what to say next.

“Thought you’d want it that way. You always hated when people moved your stuff.”

“Yeah,” she said.

He smiled a little at the memory, his hands fidgeting with the edge of a notebook she hadn’t touched in years.

“Powder’s coming home later in two weeks for break. Been pretty busy with all that college stuff.” He says. “And as much as I love having you back home… everything alright with that fancy job of yours?

“Our, uh, manager thinks the band needs a break… from work… and touring nonstop, so…” Vi trailed off, her voice faint. “Ekko’s prety happy about it. He missed Benzo a lot.”

Vander didn’t respond immediately. He just nodded slowly, his eyes soft, as if he already knew that there was more going on her mind. She wasn’t talking about just the band. She was talking about everything. The constant noise that came into her life, the rush of being in the spotlight that made it hard to even breathe sometimes. The exhaustion that had piled up too, unnoticed, over the years.

Vi sighed, running a hand through her hair, fingers brushing the silver chain that hung around her neck, tugging it out from under her shirt.

“Well, Benzo is a huge fan, as you know,” Vander continued, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Won’t stop talking about you guys. Keeps showing off posters Ekko sends in the mail.”

Vi’s lips curved upwards, a soft laugh slipping out. Benzo always supported the band even way before they became one, since she and Ekko were kids, playing with glasses of water, a small keyboard and buckets flipped over to drum on them.

She remembered the first time they’d played at his diner, the crowd just a few regulars, and Benzo grinning like the proudest uncle. He’d been the first to show up with his camera, asking for a picture of the band.

“You guys are going to make it big,” he’d said, without any hint of doubt in his voice.

“I should really go down there and see him… check up on Ekko, too,” Vi muttered, almost to herself. “His birthday’s coming up soon, isn’t it?”

“Sure is.”

Then, she looked out the window instinctively, like she always used to, and her eyes lingered on the house across the street. She could almost hear the sound of your soft voice, echoing in her mind like it had never left. She could imagine you inside, just going about your day, living your life without her.

She couldn’t stop staring at it, even though a part of her knew she shouldn’t. And yet, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

She couldn’t stop herself from wondering, wondering what you were doing now, how you were feeling. Did you still think about her? The same way she thought about you? Were you with someone else now?

No, she… Vi didn’t want to think about that.

“Are you going to that wedding?” Vander’s voice broke through her thoughts.

She blinked, turning slightly to face him.

He continued, “Got a letter invite a couple weeks back, but I’m sure Jayce already let you know about it.”

A wedding. She had heard about it from Jayce, of course. Mel and Jayce were getting married. But she hadn’t really thought about it in the way she should have.

You’d probably be there.

And the thought of going, of seeing you again, made her stomach flip. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face you after everything. Three years. But it felt like it had been a lifetime. She couldn’t deny that a part of her wanted to be there, to see you, but another part of her feared what it would mean, of what would happen.

She shifted on her feet, glancing back out the window at the house one more time, as if it could give her the answer she was looking for.

“I don’t know yet,” Vi finally replied, her voice softer than she intended.

“Well it might be good to go see—”

“I said I don’t know.”

The tone of her own voice shocked herself.

“Sorry.”

Vander’s gaze softened as he looked at her. Her gaze lingered on the house across the street, her eyes tracing the outline of the familiar windows, the same one she used to sneak into to get to your bedroom in the middle of the night just because she just wanted to kiss you, and the same porch where she used to sit with you, long into the evening, talking about everything and nothing all at once.

Fuck. She couldn’t help herself.

“Is… is she still living over there?” she asked quietly, almost like she was afraid to hear the answer.

Vander glanced over, a small frown pulling at his lips as he followed her gaze toward the house. He paused for a moment, thinking, before responding with a soft shrug.

“No, she… moved out a couple of years ago,” he said. “Her mother mentioned an apartment somewhere downtown.”

For a moment, Vi stood there, her mind racing. She tried to picture you in this new place—your own apartment, a life carved out without her in it.

She didn’t speak right away. Her mind was too full, too clouded by everything she had tried to push aside. She’d been running for so long, keeping herself distracted with music, with the band, with anything that kept her from what she had left behind.

“Well, I’ve gotta get to work,” Vander says, walking past her and stopping in the doorway for a moment. “By the way, even if you don’t want my input on it, I really think you should go to that wedding. Better than being cooped up in here the whole time… Besides, I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

He stops by the doorframe, turning around then tossing something small and metallic over to her, which she catches with ease.

Car keys.

“Also, got that truck of yours fixed up when I heard you were coming back. Would be nice for it to get back on the road.”

Then he left.

Vi stood in there silently, watching as Vander walked out. She wasn’t sure what to make of it at first—he was always the type to be blunt, to offer advice that, whether she wanted it or not, often felt like the truth.

She stared down at the car keys in her hand, her thumb tracing the familiar grooves of the key to her old pickup truck—the one she’d spent an entire summer fixing up in Vander’s garage when she was sixteen. It had been her pride and joy, her freedom on four wheels.

She could still feel the way the leather seat would stick to her thighs on hot summer days, how she’d leave the windows rolled down because the AC had never quite worked right. She remembered the smell of grease that never really left the upholstery, no matter how much air freshener she hung from the rearview mirror.

But mostly, she remembered you.

Nights spent parked in that same old truck at night, your laughter mingling with the chirping crickets in the warm air. She could still feel the ghost of your hands on her face, your lips against hers in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. She remembered the way you’d pull her closer, your fingers curling into the collar of her shirt, as if you couldn’t stand even the smallest gap between you.

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she remembered another one—the two of you sneaking into the drive-in theater just outside of town. The projector’s flickering light had barely held her attention, not when you were sitting there next to her, your head resting on her shoulder, your hand absentmindedly playing with the hem of her shirt. She’d pretended to watch the movie, but all she could focus on was the sound of your breathing and the way you smelled.

You spent lots of your time in there with her. After school, after curfews, after everything.

She’d taught you how to shift gears in it, though you’d been hopelessly terrible at it, and she hadn’t minded one bit. You’d laugh at yourself, and Vi would laugh with you, though secretly she thought it was adorable. And when the nights were too quiet and the world felt too small, she’d drive you out to the edge of town, to that spot by the lake where you’d talk for hours, play you different songs on her guitar.

She turned back to the room, her eyes tracing her surroundings. It felt almost like a relic. She grew up here, sure, but who was she now? A part of her felt like she had lost herself along the way—lost in the noise, the music, the constant moving, the faces of strangers she met on different nights. She thought about everything that had happened between her and you. She had never really taken the time to face it all, to truly think about what went wrong.

But Vander was right.

She couldn’t stay locked away forever. She had to move forward. The band had taken a break, and the world had slowed down for a moment.

With a soft sigh, she looked out the window again, her eyes finding your house across the street.

Catch up with old friends. Was that what she needed? To face the past? To see the people she had left behind?

She crossed the room, her fingers brushing against the familiar objects scattered around. Her childhood trophies. Old photos with friends. It all seemed so distant now, like someone else’s life.

She took a deep breath, the decision heavy in her chest. Maybe Vander was right. Maybe it was time to show up, even if she was afraid of the thought of it.

“I guess I’ll go,” she murmured to the empty room.

The air in the dressing room was thick with the hum of distant music and muffled laughter seeping through the walls.

It was a busy day, but here, everything seemed still.

The place smelled faintly of lavender and vanilla, the scent lingering from the carefully arranged flowers that adorned every corner of the room. Soft light from the chandeliers cast a warm glow over Mel, who stood nervously in front of the mirror, adjusting the layers of her white gown. The fabric shimmered slightly under the lights with speckles of gold both on her dress and in her hair. She looked so beautiful.

You stood beside her, your own dress, a soft shade of blush pink. You absentmindedly tugged at the fabric by your hips, trying to steady your breath, as your eyes flickered between Mel and her reflection. She was fidgeting with the edge of her veil, looking every bit like the bride she was supposed to be.

“Mel,” you said softly. You stepped closer to her, placing a hand on her arm in reassurance. “You look stunning. Just breathe.”

Her eyes met yours in the mirror, and you saw the quiet panic that flickered behind them.

“Do you think I look okay?” she asked, her voice betraying her nerves. “I mean, I know I should feel excited, but I feel like everything’s about to fall apart. What if I mess up? What if I trip down the aisle or say something wrong or—”

“First off, I have never seen you trip once in my entire life,” you interrupted gently, your thumb brushing over her arm. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ve been dreaming about this day for years, Mel. You deserve every single moment of it.”

You gave her a small smile.

“You’re just gonna walk down that aisle and Jayce is going to look at you and see you and no one else. Like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And you are, so stop worrying, you’re about to be his wife.”

Mel exhaled slowly, dropping her shoulders a little as she allowed herself to relax, even if just a fraction. She stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment, her fingers lightly touching the delicate lace of her dress. She nodded slowly, her eyes softening as the last of her worry seemed to ease away. She straightened up, her back a little less hunched, her chin lifted just enough to make her look like the woman you’d known all these years.

“Thank you,” she said sigh. “My god, I’m getting married.”

You gave her a teasing smile. “Yeah, you are.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Alright. I’m ready.”

Mel straightened her veil one last time and stood taller, stronger than she had a few minutes ago. You both shared one last look in the mirror before heading toward the door.

And before you knew it, you were standing in front of the aisle.

You barely noticed when Viktor, standing beside you, Jayce’s best man and friend, began to guide you down, your arm linked with his. The music played by the pianist surrounded you, and everyone’s whispered voices faded into the background. Your focus narrowed to just the steps ahead of you as you went on. Viktor smiled warmly at you and the flowers in your hands felt heavier now, their petals brushing your fingers with each step. The soft rustle of your dress seemed to blend with the rest of sounds of the room, the only thing you could hear, aside from your own breathing.

As you neared the end of the aisle, Viktor slowed his pace, and you both came to a halt. His hand gently lifted from your arm and you separated, parting to make space for the groom and the bride, and stood still for a moment, facing the crowd.

And it was then, as your eyes scanned the room, that you saw it—a streak of pink. The color almost seemed to glow.

Vi.

Her hair, now a little longer than you remembered, was glowing under the soft light.

Your heart skipped a beat, then stilled, as you stared and swallowed the lump in your throat.

She’s sitting there, in the middle of the crowd, dressed in an all-black suit, the kind that should look formal, her collar loose and unbuttoned under her jacket. She looks good—too good, in that frustrating way you remember all too well.

And she’s staring right at you.

She’s been staring the whole time, as if she’s been waiting for this, waiting for you. Her jaw is set, her lips pressed into a line that isn’t quite a smile but isn’t far from one either. It’s the look she used to give you when she was trying to read you, trying to figure out if she should say something or stay quiet.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the bouquet in your hands. And then, from the corner of your eye, you see movement. Mel steps into view, bright in her wedding dress, reminding you of where you are, of the role you’re here to play.

And it’s enough to force you to tear your gaze away from Vi.

Your eyes snap back to Mel, and you focus on her. You force yourself to breathe, to focus, but deep down, you know this will stay lodged in your mind.

Vi stared the entire time.

She’d been staring from the moment you stepped into view. She’d been waiting all day for this—waiting for you to step out, to catch even a glimpse of the person who’d lived in the back of her mind for years, no matter how hard she’d tried to bury the thought of you.

And when she finally saw you… God, fuck.

You were beautiful.

So beautiful it made her throat tighten and her chest ache. It wasn’t just the dress, though it was stunning, soft and flowing, hugging you in all the right places.

You looked better than she remembered, which felt impossible because, to Vi, you’d always been the prettiest person she’d ever laid eyes on.

Her heart thudded painfully as she took in the way you walked, like though you weren’t sure you belonged in the spotlight. You always did that—shrank yourself down, even when you had every right to take up space.

And Vi hated it. She hated how much she missed it too.

She couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink. Her gaze drank in every detail—the line of your collarbone where the dress dipped, the curve of your neck, the curve of your lips. She thought about how she used to trace the edges of your jaw with her fingertips, how you used to tilt your head into her hand when you were silently asking her to kiss you.

Her jaw clenched, her lips pressing into a tight line as if that could stop all her emotions from crashing over.

Because fuck, you were right there. Flesh and blood, in the same room.

And yet, you felt so far away, like the distance between her seat and from where you stood might as well have been a thousand miles.

Her mind raced as she sat there, still as stone, her fingers digging into her knees to keep herself calm. What would she even say if she could speak to you? What could she say that wouldn’t sound pathetic, desperate?

Because she was desperate.

She realized that now, sitting here and watching you.

In fact, she watched you for the rest of the night. All the way up to the after party.

Vi stayed on the second floor balcony for most of the evening, nursing a drink she didn’t particularly care for, her other hand gripping the railing as she leaned against it.

The view was perfect from up here—not of just the party, but of you.

She could see everything, every little detail. She hadn’t even realized how much she’d missed the sound of your laugh until it reached her ears over the music and chatter.

She watched as you spun around the dance floor with Jayce, his booming laugh echoing as he twirled you, your dress flaring out. Mel joined in too, her bouquet forgotten somewhere on a table as the three of you swayed and stumbled with too much energy to care if you looked silly.

Vi’s lips curved into the smallest, bittersweet smile at the sight of you and her friends all so carefree, so full of life.

From up here, she could even watch how some guys went up to you, making her grip on the railing even tighter. She could see the way their eyes lit up when they looked at you, how they straightened their postures, how they leaned in just a little too close.

Vi hated how much it bothered her.

But you… you were polite, as you always were, letting them have their moment before smiling and shaking your head, refusing a dance or to talk with them. You didn’t let them pull you away, didn’t let them have the piece of you they clearly wanted.

She should’ve felt relieved, but she didn’t. It wasn’t enough.

Because deep down, she knew she had no right to feel this way anymore.

You weren’t hers. You hadn’t been for years.

Vi leaned further into the railing, her fingers loosening around her glass as she tilted her head back, exhaling softly. God, you looked so happy. And you deserved to be happy. But Vi couldn’t shake the selfish, ugly thought that she wanted to be the one who put that smile on your face again.

Earlier, she’d congratulated Jayce and Mel, shaking hands with Jayce and giving Mel one of those half hugs she was bad at. Jayce had been his usual cheerful self, patting Vi on the back and saying how good it was to see her. He’d even cracked a joke about how the great Violet of The Lanes had graced them with her presence. It was lighthearted, teasing, but Vi couldn’t stop the tiny pang of discomfort it caused.

She didn’t want to be that big rockstar here. Not tonight. She wanted to be Vi, the same person they went to high school with, the person you used to know.

Vi couldn’t stop staring at you, no matter how much she told herself not to.

You were laughing at something Mel said, your smile lighting up your whole face. Fuck, you were so pretty.

She forced herself to look away. Her throat felt tight, and she needed air—real air, not the stifling kind laced with too many conversations and clinking glasses and the faint scent of champagne.

With a sigh, Vi turned on her heel and slipped through the doors behind her, the sound of the party fading as she stepped out onto the outdoor balcony. Her hand instinctively reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes and her old, scratched-up zippo lighter.

She lit the cigarette, taking a long drag as she leaned against the railing and closed her eyes. The smoke curled around and she tilted her head back, staring up at the sky.

The stars were faint against the glow of the city lights, but they were there, distant and untouchable.

Kind of like you.

She saw you in everything she looked at.

Vi thought coming out here would help, but even with the cool air and the distance from the party, all she could think about was you. How you looked tonight. How you laughed. How you smiled.

She took another drag, her fingers trembling slightly as she held the cigarette to her lips. Maybe it was the nicotine.

She was barely halfway through her cigarette, the end of it glowing faintly as she took another drag. She’d been out here long enough for the faint chill to settle in her bones, but it was better than being inside. She stared down at the city below, considering the easiest way to slip out unnoticed.

Maybe she should just leave.

She didn’t have anything left to say to anyone here—not when every word felt like it was scraping its way up her throat.

Her hand tightened around the cigarette as she thought about it, but then—

“You started smoking?”

The sound of your voice behind her froze her in place.

For a moment, she didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. She stared straight ahead at the town, the distant lights blurring slightly in her vision. She almost thought she’d imagined it, but then the faint shuffle of your steps as you came closer made it all too real.

Finally, she turned, slowly and hesitantly. When her eyes met yours, she froze again. You were standing there, looking at her with an expression she couldn’t read all too well, your hands clasped loosely in front of you. You weren’t really dressed for the slight cold of the night, and she noticed the faint goosebumps along your arms, the way you shifted on your feet to keep warm.

“I, uh…” she stammered.

Vi glanced down at the cigarette in her hand like she’d forgotten it was there. She suddenly felt self-conscious, like she was holding something she shouldn’t be.

“Yeah,” she muttered quietly, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. “Picked it up a while ago.”

You tilted your head slightly, your gaze flicking from her face to the cigarette and back again.

“I didn’t think you would,” you said softly, and there was something in your tone—disappointment? Sadness? Curiosity?—whatever it was… she didn’t like it.

Vi shrugged, trying to play it off, but her voice came out quiet. “Helps with the stress, I guess.”

When you took a step closer, Vi’s shoulders tensed slightly. But when you stopped just shy of standing shoulder to shoulder with her, leaving a short distance between the two of you, she immediately dropped the cigarette she’d been holding, even though she was no where near finished. The bottom of her shoe came down on it a second later, snuffing out the ember.

It was almost instinctive, the way she straightened slightly, as though your presence alone made her feel the need to be… better, cleaner, less like the person she’d become and more like the one she used to be when you were hers.

She shoved her hands back into her pockets, not knowing what to do with them, her jaw tightening as she glanced sideways to look at you, a flicker of a guilty look crossing her face.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” you say.

Vi blinked, looking at you more fully now. “Do what?”

“Pretend,” you said, your eyes meeting hers. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. It’s just… surprising, that’s all.”

“I don’t… really wanna give you another reason to think I’m someone you don’t recognize,” she admitted quietly, her forearms leaning against the railing as she waited for you to respond.

“I don’t think you’re a stranger, Vi,” you said finally, and she stiffened slightly. “It’s just—it’s been a while since we saw each other, so...”

Vi turned to face you, and for a second, she just stared, her breath catching in her throat like she forgot how to speak.

God, you looked even more beautiful up close. She could see how you’ve grown, how the years had softened and shaped you in ways she hadn’t been there to witness. The dim light traced the curve of your face, catching the slope of your nose and the fullness of your lips.

And her eyes stayed there—on your lips—longer than they should have, and all she could think about was how they used to feel against hers. How you used to kiss her so softly.

She wondered if you could feel it, this pull between you both, with everything unsaid and everything she wished she could take back. God, how she wanted to reach out, to close the distance and take your face in her hands. To kiss you like she used to, like no time had passed, like she hadn’t spent every day missing you.

“How long have you been back in town?” you asked softly, and your voice broke through her thoughts.

Vi blinked and forced herself to focus on your eyes instead of your lips. Your voice was gentle, tentative, like you were testing the waters, not really sure where this conversation might go.

“Not long,” she said finally. “A couple of days.”

You nodded, and she could see the way your lips pressed together, as if you were holding back some words.

“How… have you been?” Vi asked, her voice almost trembling with nerves.

It was quiet for a bit, and she felt like she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Fuck, it was such a stupid thing to ask, she thought. It felt too small, too casual. But she didn’t know what else to say.

You turned your gaze to her. Her stomach twisted when she saw the way your lips parted, hesitating like you were choosing your words carefully. She hated that she didn’t know what was going through your mind. Once upon a time, she could read you like her favorite song, but now, it was like trying to decipher lyrics in a language she no longer spoke.

“I’ve been okay,” you said finally. “Busy, I guess. Definitely not as busy as you, but... um, I’ve been working with mom at her flower shop.”

Vi nodded slowly, her throat dry. Okay. It wasn’t the worst thing you could’ve said, but it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, either.

Honestly… she wanted you to tell her more. So much more. That… you missed her, maybe. That you thought about her. That maybe there was still some small part of your heart that belonged to her.

But she couldn’t push for that.

“I… I’ve actually just paid for a lease on this spot for a bookshop downtown, so…” you said next, your voice dipping into something shy.

You shifted your gaze, looking down at your hands for a moment before glancing back at Vi.

“A bookshop?” she repeated, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. “That’s… that’s amazing. Seriously.”

You felt a blush creeping up your neck at the sound of her voice. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way she said them, like she believed in you without hesitation, the same way she always used to. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to steady yourself under her gaze.

“It’s not open yet, but it’s coming together,” you continued, your words rushed. “I have to get supplies and… you know, order books to sell. I’m still getting it all set up next week…”

Vi nodded, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she just stared at you, the pride in her eyes unmistakable.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I… I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, glancing down at your hands again. You felt the urge to keep talking, to fill the space with something else. “After my book did well, I just thought… I’ve always wanted a book shop, anyway.”

“Yeah, I know…” Vi said quietly, almost like she was thinking aloud.

Her eyebrows lifted at the mention of your book.

“I-I mean—Your book,” she echoed, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “I saw it. Well, I didn’t just see it—I bought it. And read it. Twice, actually.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You read my book?”

“Of course, I did,” she said, like it wasn’t even a question.

Vi smiled at that, but there was something bittersweet in the curve of her lips. She wanted to tell you that she’d read it more than twice. That she kept it with her when she’d travel on tours, tucked away in her suitcase like a piece of you she couldn’t let go of.

But she bit her tongue, knowing that wasn’t something you needed to hear—not now, not after all this time.

“Did you like it?”

Vi looked at you, a slow and gentle smile creeping up on her face as she said, “Yeah.”

What she didn’t tell you was that she never actually had the heart to finish it.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know how it ended. She did. She wanted to devour every word you’d written, the same way she always used to lose herself in you. She could hear you in every sentence, see you in the way you painted your characters and wove their lives together.

And she liked to pretend that as long as she hadn’t reached the end, there was still something left between you. That there was still more to the story.

So when she’d get close to the end, her hands would freeze.

It felt too final. Too much like closure.

And closure was the last thing she wanted.

Vi cleared her throat and shifted on her feet awkwardly, tearing her gaze away from you.

“Feels weird thinking Jayce and Mel are married now,” she said roughly, just something to say.

Her lips quirked into a weak smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes, which darted back to you despite her best efforts to keep them fixed on the town ahead of her.

You chuckled softly, and the sound of it sent a ripple through her chest, and she swore she could feel her heart break all over again.

“Yeah,” you said, leaning against the railing. “It feels like just yesterday they were arguing about who was better at chemistry, and now here they are.”

“Bet Jayce’s still a pain in the ass, though,” she muttered.

But her smile faded as she looked down at the ground, her scuffed boots suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. In reality, she just wanted to keep talking to you, to keep hearing your voice for as long as she can, not knowing when she’s ever going to get this chance again.

“Mel definitely agrees with that.”

Then, there was silence.

You moved slightly, your fingers trailing the edge of the railing as you watched her. She hadn’t changed, not really. But something about her was different. You couldn’t name it. It was like she was trying to keep herself contained, fighting to hide the parts of her she didn’t want you to see.

“How about you?”

Vi’s gaze flicked up to meet yours like you startled her from a daydream. She blinked, her fingers loosening around the railing, but she didn’t quite look at you. Not directly.

“Huh?” she breathed.

“How have you been?” you repeated.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out at first. Then, a small, shaky laugh slipped from her lips.

“I—” She cut herself off, her fingers running through her hair, trying to appear calm.

I miss you, she wanted to say.

Vi met your gaze for a split second, but then her eyes flickered downward again, a soft breath escaping her lips.

“I’ve been… alright,” she said. She glanced at you briefly, the faintest flicker nervousness—maybe even guilt—crossing her face before her gaze fell to the ground. “The band’s on a break right now, so… I’ll be home for a while.”

You nodded slowly, her words repeating in your head.

Home. It sounded strange coming from her. Vi was always moving. You remember nights when you’d wish she was home, remembering how you’d ask her in every call and text wondering when she’ll be back home, even if it’s just for a short while.

She glanced back up at you, her eyes searching yours like she was trying to figure out how you felt about her answer. The faint light from inside the party caught the edges of her hair, making her pink strands glow softly in the dim light. Again, she looked the same, and yet not at all. She looked older, not just in age, but in the way her shoulders sagged slightly, like the weight of her own world had finally caught up to her.

“Home, huh?” you said softly, the word tasting bittersweet on your tongue.

“Yeah.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet stretched between you, broken only by the muffled sounds of music and laughter spilling out from the party behind you.

Vi shifted on her feet all over again, her hands brushing the seam of her pants as she glanced down for a beat, then back up at you. She looked almost timid, carefully thinking and choosing her words before speaking.

“I’m, uh… staying at my dad’s house,” she mentioned out of nowhere.

Her eyes darted to yours briefly before she looked away again, scratching the back of her neck once more—it was a sign that she was nervous, you knew it too well.

She hesitated for a moment again, as though debating whether or not to say the next part, and then just blurted out, “Um… if you need help with that bookshop thing... I… I could help. You know, with lifting boxes, books or whatever. Anything. Whenever you need.”

The words tumbled out in a rush, and her cheeks flushed slightly as she stood there, waiting for you were going to say. It was such a clumsy offer, but it was also… sweet. You could tell from the way she said it, from the way her hands fidgeted at her sides, from the way her eyes flickered to yours and then back to the ground, that she wasn’t just trying to be polite.

You didn’t say anything at first, and in the silence, Vi’s nervousness seemed to grow. She bit the inside of her cheek, her gaze darting to yours again as if to gauge your reaction.

“I mean, no pressure,” she added quickly, her voice stumbling over the words. “I just thought… i-if you needed help or anything… I’m around.”

She forced another small, lopsided smile. And suddenly, it hit you how much she had changed.

But you only offered a small, polite smile back.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you say softly, shaking your head. “You’re on a break—you should be… I don’t know. Resting? I think—”

But before you can finish, Vi cuts you off, “I want to.”

The words spill out of her with a force that surprises even her, and for a moment, she freezes, like she’s unsure if she sounded to desperate. Her jaw tightens, and she swallows hard before continuing, softer this time.

“I mean it, I really do. I want to help. I… I’d like to… Besides, I don’t really have any future plans anyways, so... It’ll keep me busy.”

Her voice trails off at the end, and she looks at you with those same earnest eyes.

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say.

You search her face, taking in the faint flush on her cheeks, the slight furrow of her brows, the way she looks like she’s bracing herself for rejection.

You exhale slowly, your heart caught somewhere between wanting to let her in and knowing the risks that come with it.

“Vi…” you start softly, but she shakes her head before you can go on, her lips curving into a faint, almost self-conscious smile.

You hesitate, the words catching on the edge of your tongue. Vi is standing there, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. Her eyes are locked on you, searching for some sort of an answer. She’s trying so hard to play it cool, but you’ve known her for too long to miss the way her shoulders tense, like she’s bracing herself for you to say no.

In Vi’s head, the words are quiet and repetitive saying, please say yes, please say yes, please…

You let out a slow breath, your lips curving into a small, tentative smile.

“Okay…” you say softly.

Fuck.

Her eyes flicker, catching the faintest glimmer of surprise, but she doesn’t move or speak, just waits, like she’s afraid to push too hard.

You glance away for a moment, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your dress, and then add, “If anything comes up… I’ll ask you first.”

Her shoulders relax as her lips curl into a grin—not a wide, toothy grin like the ones you remember from years ago, but a quiet, shy smile. It’s like she’s trying to play it cool, but the spark of happiness in her eyes betrays her.

“Yeah?” she says, like she’s making sure she didn’t mishear you.

You nod and Vi exhales a soft chuckle, looking down at her boots for a second before meeting your gaze again.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “Okay.”

“I, um… I should head back to the party,” you say softly, a bit hesitant, like you’re not sure whether you’re ready to leave or if you’re saying it just to give yourself permission to.

You give her a gentle smile.

“It was nice seeing you, Violet.”

Her name falls from your lips so easily, like it hasn’t been years since she’s heard you say it. And God, she swears she melts—completely, utterly melts—like the sound of her name coming from you is the softest, warmest thing in the world. Nobody really calls her that anymore. To everyone else, she’s just Vi. To you… she doesn’t even know if she’s still that girl, still your Violet, but the way you say it makes her feel like she could be.

She tries to play it cool, tries to keep herself from staring too hard at you or letting you see how badly she wants you to stay just a little longer, but it’s impossible. Everything about you—your voice, your smile, the way you’re standing there looking so fucking beautiful—it’s all driving her crazy.

Vi just nods, her voice coming out quieter than she intended.

“Yeah… yeah, you too.”

You give her one last smile before turning to leave, and Vi’s chest tightens as she watches you go, your dress swaying lightly as you walk back toward the noise.

She wants to call after you, to stop you, to ask you for just a few more minutes. But she doesn’t. Instead, she stays where she is, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, replaying the entire conversation, the way you said her name over and over.

The days passed slowly, each one dragging way more than the last, and Vi felt every excruciating second of it. She’d never been good at waiting—patience was never her strong suit—but this was quite possibly worse than anything she’d ever experienced. You were on her mind constantly, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw you standing on that balcony, your voice soft, smiling at her in that pretty dress.

And now… now she was stuck in silence, waiting for a sign, for anything, for you.

It was maddening.

She’d been sitting on your number for days, her thumb hovering over her phone screen more times than she could count.

She’d asked Jayce for it the day after the wedding, trying to keep her voice casual and her reasoning vague—something about wanting to just talk or check in, honestly, she couldn’t even remember what she’d said now. Jayce hadn’t questioned it, just handed it over with a knowing grin and a pat on the shoulder.

“Good luck,” he’d said, and Vi had laughed it off at the time, pretending it didn’t matter as much as it did.

But now, sitting in her dad’s kitchen with her phone on the table in front of her, the wait was crushing her.

She’d tried to convince herself to wait for you to make the first move, but the days were stretching on, and every time her phone buzzed, her heart jumped, only to sink when it wasn’t you.

It was ridiculous, really, how much power you still had over her after all this time.

She felt like a teenager again, pacing her room, rehearsing what to say, overthinking every way you might respond.

Vi rubbed the back of her neck, glancing at the screen where your name stared back at her, the text box waiting for her to write something, anything. A call felt too forward, but a text… God, what was she even supposed to say? Hey, it was nice seeing you at the wedding? No, that sounded too formal. I can’t stop thinking about you and wish I had said more that night? Absolutely not.

She groaned and leaned back in her chair, glaring at the phone like it was mocking her. She’d faced stadiums full of screaming fans, interviews where every word mattered, even the pressure of writing entire albums with a deadline, and yet here she was, completely undone by the thought of texting you.

It seemed awfully familiar, though.

The last time she had been staring at her phone like this, wanting to text you, to call you, was when you broke up with her in New York.

Vi remembers every message, every call, every desperate attempt to reach you after your flight home. She regretted everything, and she carried it with her everyday. Even now, years later, she can still feel it—the silence on the other end of the line, the way your name sat at the top of her call log, unanswered, untouched, until eventually, it disappeared altogether.

She had tried to chase you that morning—had jolted awake to the blaring red numbers on the alarm clock, the kind of panic that claws its way up your throat, suffocating.

But she never made it on time.

The hangover from the night before had her glued to the bed for too long, her knuckles slightly bruised from punching that guy at the party, slowed her limbs and dulled her mind when she needed to be moving, running—to you. She remembered stumbling through her hotel room, throwing on last night’s pants, grabbing her keys with shaking hands, but by the time she had made it downstairs and shoved open the lobby doors, the realization had already sunk its teeth into her—she wasn’t going to make it.

Still, she had sent the text.

She had sat in the driver’s seat of her car, fingers gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles had gone white. She had stared at the screen, waiting, willing your name to light up in reply. But nothing came.

She tried calling. She had dialed your number over and over, barely able to breathe as the rings echoed in her ear, taunting her.

Voicemail.

Again.

And again. And again.

She had meant it. She wanted to tell you that she knew she had screwed up, that she had let the late nights and missed dates and unreturned calls and the fact that she barely came home piled up into something unbearable. That she had let you slip through her fingers when she should have been holding on for dear life.

But you never answered.

And then again later that night, after she had downed more drinks than she should have, after she had sat on the floor of her bathroom with her head in her hands, trying to piece together how everything had gone so wrong.

She promised. And she had kept that promise, had woken up with a headache, going through an interview she barely remembered, and then, the second she was free, she had called you.

And still, nothing.

The messages didn’t stop after that.

For weeks, she kept reaching out. The texts came in—some long, rambling apologies sent in the middle of the night, others as simple as “I miss you” or “Are you okay?” The calls never slowed, her thumb swiping over your name out of habit, out of desperation, out of some foolish, impossible hope that maybe this time you’d pick up.

But you never did.

And Vi was pretty sure it killed her.

It killed her to think that maybe, eventually, you would stop even reading them, stop seeing her name on your screen and feeling anything at all.

And yet, she still kept calling. Because she didn’t know how to stop. Because the thought of never hearing your voice again was somehow worse than hearing nothing at all, even if it was just your voicemail.

“I love you,” was her last message.

Vi let out a frustrated breath, running her hand through her hair as she stared at your name one more time. She didn’t want to seem desperate, but she also didn’t want to lose this chance, the tiny sliver of hope that had lodged itself in her chest since she’d seen you again.

She didn’t hear the door at first, her mind too distracted as she stared at her phone.

But then, the doorbell echoed through the house, dragging her out of her thoughts. Vi didn’t move at first, too paralyzed.

The silence stretched, and just as she began to wonder if she should check the door, Vander’s voice rang out from the other side of the house.

“Vi, it’s for you!”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Vi stood up slowly, her fingers still clutching her phone, her mind racing.

And then she heard it again. Her Vander’s voice, a little louder than usual, echoing from the front door.

“Vi, it’s for you!” Vander called out again.

Vi hesitated, frozen for a moment in the threshold of the room, unsure of what to do. She could hear muffled voices, something that sounded like small talk, but she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready for anyone—least of all you—to walk through that door, to see her and disrupt the little bubble she’d built around herself.

And then, just as she took a hesitant step toward the hallway, she heard it.

A woman’s voice, sweet and unmistakable, calling out in the distance. It was your mom.

“Vi, sweetie, it’s been a while,” she said warmly.

Why was your mom here? Was she here for you? Did you send her?

“Uh, hi,” Vi stammered, her voice cracking slightly as she stepped closer to the doorway.

Her throat felt dry, and she wasn’t sure where to put her hands, so they hung awkwardly by her sides. She tried to muster a smile, but it faltered slightly under her nerves.

Your mom stood there, her familiar warm smile softening the edges of Vi’s unease.

“It’s so nice to see you,” she said kindly, her voice light and easy, as if years hadn’t passed since the last time they’d spoken. “You’ve grown so much.”

Vi forced a nod, her lips twitching into a polite grin.

“T-Thank you,” she mumbled.

“Anyway,” she said, waving a hand as if she was brushing away any lingering awkwardness, “I actually came by to ask for a bit of help.”

“Oh?” she managed.

“Well,” your mom began, “____ has some books at the house that I’m supposed to drop off at her apartment, but I have to get to the flower shop soon. She told me to ask you to do it if you were available.”

She offered a sheepish smile, “Was thinking you could spare my back from lifting some of those boxes, you see.”

Vi wasn’t sure how long she stood there, frozen in place, as they sank in. Your mom’s voice was calm and casual, but to Vi, it felt like the ground had shifted beneath her.

You told her to ask me? The thought looped in her head.

“Oh, uh…” Vi started, the words faltering as she processed the request. She rubbed the back of her neck, and glanced briefly at Vander, who stood just behind her in the kitchen, pretending not to listen but very clearly eavesdropping. She caught his small, encouraging nod, and it pushed her to speak again. “Yes! Yeah, of course. I can do that.”

Your mom’s face brightened instantly.

“Oh, thank you, sweetie. That’s such a big help.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a small slip of paper, handing it to Vi. “Here’s the address to her apartment. The boxes are over in the backyard. Just leave them wherever she needs them.”

Vi took the paper with trembling fingers, her gaze flicking down to the scrawled handwriting. It wasn’t yours, but it didn’t matter. Just the thought of stepping into your place, of touching something that belonged to you, made her chest ache with excitement.

Your mom beamed. “I appreciate it.”

Vi nodded, offering another polite smile, though her mind was already racing ahead. She watched as your mom said her goodbyes and left, the door clicking softly behind her.

Once the house was quiet again, Vander leaned against the counter, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “You gonna be okay there, kid?”

Vi didn’t answer. She just stood in the doorway, staring at the door.

“Uh-huh.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and without a second thought, she spun on her heel, running toward her room. Vander’s low chuckle echoed faintly behind her, but she didn’t stop to say anything. Her mind was racing too fast, her body moving on autopilot.

Vi nearly stumbled as she made it to her room, her hand shooting out to grab the edge of her desk for balance. Her eyes immediately locked onto her old car keys lying on the surface. Her fingers curled tightly around the worn leather keychain, and in one quick motion, she stuffed the keys into her pocket and spun around to leave.

“You’re leaving now?” Vander teased from the kitchen as she all but bolted past him. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, watching her in amusement.

“I’ll be back later!” Vi called back over her shoulder, already halfway out the door.

Before he could respond, she was gone, the screen door slamming shut behind her. He shook his head, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he chuckled softly to himself.

“Kids,” he muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to whatever he’d been doing.

Vi moved quickly, her boots crunching against the grass as she ran to the next house, grabbing the boxes of books from the backyard like your mother had said, putting them in the trunk before getting in to start the truck.

As the engine roared as she turned her key, she gripped the wheel tightly, her palms slightly clammy against the worn leather. She let out a slow, shaky breath, her mind still spinning. The thought of seeing you again, even in such a simple, practical way, made her stomach twist into knots.

She adjusted the rearview mirror, catching a brief glimpse of herself, her wide eyes betraying the nerves she felt. With a soft huff, she shook her head, trying to steady herself.

“It’s just some boxes,” she murmured under her breath, as if saying it out loud might make it easier.

With that thought in her mind, Vi threw the truck into reverse and backed out of the driveway. She didn’t bother to turn on the radio as she drove, her hands tightening on the wheel, her foot pressing just a little harder on the gas as everything out the windows blurred past.

When Vi pulled up to your apartment building, she stayed in the driver’s seat longer than she’d planned, her fingers drumming anxiously against the steering wheel. The grumble of the truck’s engine had faded, leaving only the sound of her shallow breathing and the occasional creak of the old leather seat beneath her. She stared up at the building, the sunlight glinting off the windows, and felt her stomach twist. This shouldn’t be such a big deal—just a delivery, just a favor—but it pressed down on her like it meant everything.

She glanced down at herself, frowning at her choice of clothes. A faded hoodie she’d thrown on in a rush and a pair of worn jeans she’d been meaning to replace for years. Her sneakers were scuffed, the laces frayed at the edges. She tugged at the hem of the hoodie self-consciously, her lips pressing into a thin line. Why hadn’t she dressed up a little more? Why hadn’t she at least run a comb through her hair before bolting out the door?

The truck’s rearview mirror caught her eye, and she tilted it down slightly to get a look at herself. Her hair was messy, not in the cool, effortless way she might’ve liked. Her hair grew longer, but she’s been meaning to get a hair cut from her hair stylist before the band took a break. She reached up to smooth it down, her fingers catching on a knot. With a frustrated sigh, she shook her head and let her hand drop.

Get a grip, Vi, she thought. It’s not a date. You’re dropping off some boxes, that’s it.

But even as she said the words, they felt hollow. She wanted to look good for you. She wanted you to see her and—what? Be impressed?

With a heavy sigh, Vi shoved the door open and climbed out of the truck. She grabbed the first box from the passenger seat, balancing it carefully against her hip as she slammed the door shut with her foot. Her keys jingled softly in her pocket as she made her way toward the building, her shoes scuffing against the pavement.

The elevator ride felt like it lasted an eternity. Vi shifted the box in her arms, her palms growing damp from the cardboard’s edges. She stared at the numbers lighting up above the door, each floor bringing her closer. Her heart was pounding again, and she cursed herself for it.

When the elevator doors slid open, she stepped out and hesitated, her eyes scanning the numbers on the doors in the halls until she found yours. Standing there, just a few feet away, she felt her resolve falter again. She reached up to knock, then paused, glancing down at herself one last time. The hoodie, the jeans, her hair—she sighed, knowing there wasn’t much she could do about it now.

Finally, Vi forced herself to step forward, swallowing the lump in her throat as she raised her knuckles to the door and knocked.

The door creaked open a moment later, and Vi’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t thought about what she’d say, but all those half-formed ideas completely disintegrated the second she saw you.

You were standing there in a loose tank top that dipped low enough to hint at your curves, your cleavage, paired with a pair of shorts that revealed more of your legs than Vi could handle seeing without losing her composure.

And she wasn’t ready for this at all.

Your eyes widened when you saw her, your body jolting slightly, not expecting her of all people to be on the other side of the door at this hour.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, taking a step back out of instinct. “Vi. Y-You’re early.”

Vi blinked, trying to force her brain to catch up with the situation, but her eyes kept drifting down your body, betraying her. Her gaze flitted from the flush in your cheeks to the slight curve of your collarbone and lower before she caught herself and looked away, focusing on the box in her hands.

“I, uh…” Vi cleared her throat, her voice suddenly hoarse. “Yeah, I—guess I didn’t realize how fast I’d get here.”

She wanted to curse herself for how awkward she sounded, but she couldn’t seem to focus on anything except how close you were, how the faint scent of your perfume drifted into her nose.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, clearly flustered, your smile shy but warm.

“I didn’t think you’d be here so soon,” you said, glancing down at yourself briefly like you were suddenly self-conscious. “I—uh, I didn’t really dress for company.”

Vi shook her head quickly, the words tumbling out before she could think them through.

“Oh! No, you’re—you look…” She stopped and bit down on the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to regain her footing. “You look fine. Really great, I mean. Not that I was looking—I-I… Just—uh, it’s fine. You’re fine.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Not smooth. At all. The heat in her cheeks was unmistakable now, and she wanted nothing more than to melt and disappear into the floor. You let out a soft laugh, and it was warm, teasing, in a way that made Vi’s heart flutter.

“Well, come in,” you said, stepping aside and gesturing for her to enter. “You’re already here, so…”

Vi nodded as she stepped in. She kept her head down, her jaw tight, her fingers gripping the box pretending to focus on it instead of you.

You stepped aside, letting her cross the threshold into your apartment, and she immediately felt her nerves spike. It was cozy with soft warm lighting and shelves packed full of books and little frames of photos you’ve taken that she wasn’t apart of. She found herself lingering by the door, holding the box tightly as her eyes wandered more. A dark blue blanket was draped over the back of the couch, your yellow mug from earlier sat on the coffee table, and she could faintly smell of, maybe, vanilla or something sweet in the air.

“I—I’m gonna go get dressed,” you said suddenly, moving awkwardly on your feet like her being in the room was throwing you off your balance too. You gestured vaguely to your tank top and shorts, cheeks slightly pink. “I know I only asked if you could drop those off, but I’d really like to get them to the shop as soon as possible, so...”

Vi only nodded, her mouth too dry to form a proper response, her hands gripping the box tighter than necessary.

“Yeah, no problem,” she muttered, barely hearing her own voice over her thoughts. “I-I can drive us there if you want.”

You gave her a quick smile and turned to head down the short hallway toward what she assumed was your bedroom.

And Vi tried, really, really tried to keep her focus elsewhere, but her resolve crumbled the second you walked away.

Her gaze shamelessly dropped down to your ass, trailing after you as your hips swayed naturally with each step, her brain short-circuiting at the sight. Oh, how she wished she was allowed to pull you close like she used to, pressed your ass against her front, her hands on your hips, her lips against the side of your neck, kissing and licking and marking—

Fuck. Stop. Stop.

She tore her eyes away, her face heating up in an instant. What the hell was she doing? She wasn’t seventeen anymore, and yet here she was, acting like some lovesick kid with no self-control.

But, really, how could she not? It had been years, and somehow you were sexier—no, even more beautiful now than you were back then. You always had this effect on her, and she learned today that it has never gone away.

She sighed and glanced up at the ceiling, trying to distract herself by taking in more of your apartment. Everything here was you. She could picture you curled up on that couch, a book in hand, completely at ease. She could picture you at the little kitchen counter, maybe making coffee in the mornings, the sunlight spilling in through the window. It was such a simple, lovely image that Vi could almost feel herself getting lost in it, wanting to be a part of it in some way.

Vi set the box down gently by the couch, glancing around your cozy apartment one more time before lowering herself onto the cushions. She sank into them, her fingers drumming absently on her knees as she tried not to think too much. But waiting like this, surrounded by all the little pieces of your life, made it impossible not to.

She let out a slow breath and ran a hand through her hair, trying to keep her thoughts in check. The sound of your door creaking open snapped her out of it, and she instinctively looked up, her breath catching the moment she saw you. She didn’t even realize she was staring until her chest tightened again, a small voice in the back of her head reminding her that she had no right to look at you like this anymore.

“Mel dropped some books off yesterday too,” you said, your voice pulling her out of her thoughts. “I’ll grab them, and then we can take all of it down to the shop.”

Vi nodded dumbly, her throat feeling dry as she struggled to find a coherent response.

You turned toward a small side table where a several of other books were stacked, and Vi took the moment to glance at you again, her chest aching as the reality of it all hit her. And all she could think about was how fucking beautiful you looked. As you bent slightly to pick up the stack, Vi clenched her fists against her thighs, forcing herself to look away.

She followed you on your way out, silently wishing she could stay in there a little longer to explore what else you’ve been up to, to see everything that was connected to you.

But she couldn’t anymore, not when you closed the door and locked it quickly behind her.

You stood beside her in the elevator, close enough that she could catch the faintest trace of your perfume. It was practically the same scent she remembered, the one that used to linger on her clothes after you’d hugged her goodbye. Vi glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, watching as you fidgeted with the strap of your bag, clutching the books Mel dropped off to donate to your chest carefully, and your lips pressed together in a thin line.

Neither of you spoke.

Vi was nervous.

She wanted to say something but she didn’t really know how. It was a strange, being quiet, and she hated how much she liked it—just being near you, even if it wasn’t the same as before.

The elevator dinged softly as it reached the ground floor, and the doors slid open to the parking lot. Vi stepped out first, holding the box carefully, and you followed close behind. Her boots scuffed against the concrete as she led the way toward her truck, parked in one of the far corners next to a big tree.

When the truck came into view, your steps slowing just slightly. Vi noticed immediately, glancing back at you with a questioning look, but you didn’t dare to say anything. You just stood there, staring at the familiar sight of her old, beat-up pickup, the one she used to drive you around in. She could see it in your eyes—your eyebrows rising, the way your lips parted just slightly, as if you were about to say something but thought better of it.

Vi remembered everything about that truck—how she’d spent weeks fixing it up herself in high school after Vander brought it home for her on her sixteenth birthday, how proud she’d been when it finally roared to life. She remembered the late night drives, the way you’d slide across the bench seat to lean against her as she steered with one hand. She remembered the drive-in movies, the cheap popcorn, and the way you’d press a kiss to her cheek when you thought she wasn’t paying attention. She remembered her arm resting behind your head as she leaned in to distract you from that movie just past the window, her lips pressing against yours before moving down to your jaw, your neck, until she had you on your back against the bench seat of the truck, her mouth exploring your body excitedly, enjoying the feeling of your hands holding on to her like you depending on it.

And she wondered if you remembered it the same way she did.

You smiled faintly, but you still didn’t say anything. Instead, you walked up to the truck slowly, your hand brushing along the edge of the faded red paint.

Vi hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. “You okay?”

You nodded softly. Your gaze lingered on the truck, tracing over every detail, every dent and scratch that time hadn’t erased.

Vi cleared her throat, forcing a shaky laugh to break the silence. “She’s still holding up,” she said, her voice softer than she intended. “Vander fixed her up when he found out I was coming home.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “It’s still the same.”

Vi wanted to ask what you were thinking—if seeing the truck brought back all the same memories for you as it did for her—but she bit her tongue.

She didn’t want to push.

The drive to the shop felt a little longer than it actually was.

Vi gripped the steering wheel of her truck a little tighter, her palms slightly clammy against the worn leather. The ride was quiet, almost painfully so, but she didn’t want to break the silence—not when she was afraid any word out of her mouth would sound awkward or clumsy, maybe. But every so often, her eyes darted toward you, sitting there in the seat next to her, looking out the window.

You didn’t say much either, only the directions to the location, and that only made Vi more nervous. Were you nervous, too? Or maybe just tired?

Your hands rested lightly in your lap, your fingers brushing against the fabric of your jeans as if you needed something to do. She wanted to ask what you were thinking, wanted to know what it felt like to finally see your dream of a book shop finally coming true, but the words died in her throat.

So instead, she just focused on the road.

When the truck finally pulled into the parking lot of your shop, Vi parked and cut the engine. She stepped out quickly, wanting to busy herself with something, anything, and moved to the back of the truck to grab the boxes of books you’d brought along. You followed and as you reached for one of the smaller boxes, Vi stopped you with a gentle shake of her head.

“I’ve got it,” she said softly, lifting the heavier boxes with ease. “Just lead the way.”

You nodded, your eyes darting to her for a brief moment before you started toward the front door. The shop was was in a nice spot really, tucked between a florist and a bakery, a nice park and garden across the street, but even from the outside, Vi could see the potential in it. The windows were clean, sunlight streaming through and lighting up the empty space inside.

When you unlocked the door and stepped in, Vi followed eagerly. The smell of fresh wood and paint filled the air, and even though there wasn’t much inside yet—just a few shelves and a small counter—she could already see it coming together.

“This is… wow,” she murmured, setting the boxes down near one of the shelves. “It’s cozy.”

You gave her a small smile, your hands brushing nervously against the hem of your shirt as you moved toward the shelves.

“It’s still a work in progress,” you said quietly. “A lot of work, actually. I’m waiting on more shelves to come in, and I still need to set up the counter, but… it’s a start.”

Vi nodded, watching as you walked around the place, your hands ghosting over the edges of the shelves like you were already imagining them full of books.

She could see the pride in your eyes, also with a tiny hint of worry, and she wanted to tell you how amazing it all was, how proud she was of you for making it happen. But instead, she swallowed the words.

Vi leans against one of the bookshelves like she belongs there, casual and easy, hands tucked into her pockets, the stretch of her shirt over her toned arms doing nothing to help your already scattered thoughts. Her smirk is just a little lopsided, just enough to make your stomach flip before she nods her head toward the unopened boxes in the corner of the shop.

“I can help set those up if you want,” she offers softly, like she hasn’t been gone all these years. Like she hasn’t spent a lifetime on the road, playing sold-out shows, living a life far removed from the one you built here.

You try not to stare, but it’s impossible.

God, she looks good. Too good.

It’s infuriating how effortless it is for her, how she can just stand there and make your mind short-circuit, even knowing you shouldn’t be thinking of her in that way anymore. The warm sunlight coming through the shop windows catches the sharp angle of her jaw, the scar over her brow, the faded pink of her hair, a little messy, a little longer, like she’s run her hands through it one too many times today. She’s older now, more refined in some ways, but she’s still Vi—you could see it.

You swallow, forcing yourself to snap out of it, crossing your arms over your chest like it’ll somehow shield you from how much she still gets under your skin.

“I mean…” You glance at the unopened boxes, pretending to consider it when really. “If you don’t have anywhere else to be.”

Vi grins, and it’s so damn charming, so easy, that you nearly roll your eyes at yourself for reacting to it. “Nope. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Alright,” you murmur, more to yourself than her. “Just… don’t make a mess.”

Vi chuckles warmly, almost teasing as she pushes off the bookshelf and moves closer.

“No promises,” she says, and the way she’s looking at you makes you think she’s not just talking about the shelves.

And you—well, you’re not sure if that terrifies you or if you’ve been waiting for it all along.

Vi keeps showing up.

At first, it’s under the guise of helping—the heavy lifting, the putting together more furniture until the shop starts to take real shape.

The first couple of weeks, she barely takes a break, sleeves rolled up, hands smudged with dust and the occasional splinter on her calloused hands, helping with hauling in shipments of new books before you can even get to the door, without you even needing to ask. She’d wear a fitted shirt or a tank top sometimes, showing off her strong arms as she worked—and you knew for a fact she was doing it on purpose.

You watch her from behind the counter sometimes, the way she moves like she’s so at home here. You spend your days organizing books while she works on all the heavy stuff, sneaking glances when you think she won’t notice.

Sometimes she catches you, and she’ll smirk in a way that used to make you weak in the knees back in high school, and you have to turn away quickly, pretending you weren’t staring.

You tell yourself it’s nothing, that it’s just nice having an extra set of hands around.

But the shop is nearly done now—the shelves are up, the cozy reading corner is arranged just right, most books in their place—and Vi is… still here.

She stops by in the mornings, sometimes bringing coffee just the way you like them, sometimes walking in just because she was wondering how you were doing. She lingers, finds reasons to stay even when there’s no more work to do.

And you let her.

Maybe because it’s comfortable… and familiar.

Or maybe because, deep down, some part of you doesn’t want her to stop showing up.

One evening, as you’re stacking a few last-minute books onto a display, Vi leans against the counter, watching you like she’s been doing all day.

“So,” she says, and you can hear the grin in her voice before you even look up. “Think you’re finally ready to open?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, a small smile tugging softly at the corner of your lips. “I think so.”

Vi nods, eyes lingering on you longer than they should, like she’s about to say something else—something important—but instead, she just pushes off the counter, stretching slightly.

“Good,” she says. “It’s all looking really good.”

“Thanks, Vi,” you smile softly. “You know, I should really pay you… for the work you did, I mean. You did a lot of it and—”

Vi’s lips quirk into a smirk, “Yeah? Gonna put me on payroll?”

You shake your head, feeling suddenly shy under her stare, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean it—”

“C’mon, don’t do that.” She cuts you off with a quiet scoff, shaking her head. “It’s fine really. I just… put some shelves together. Carried a few boxes.”

Vi watches you carefully, her smirk fading into something softer. She looks down for a second, her hand coming up to scratch the back of her neck, thinking about what to say.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she says quietly. “Besides, I told you I wanted to help.”

And the way she says it—the way her gaze lingers on you, the way her voice dips slightly—makes your breath hitch for a second.

Because it almost sounds like she means more than just the shop.

Like she’s saying, I wanted to be here. I wanted to see you.

“I… still feel like I should do something…” Your voice trails off as you look away from her.

The tiniest of pouts plays at your lips as you cross your arms, before glancing back up at Vi. And damn it, she misses it. She misses you.

She smiles despite herself, the corners of her lips curving up before she can stop it.

“Well, you could come to Vander’s this Friday,” Vi suggests, trying to keep her voice light, casual.

You blink, a little surprised by the suggestion.

“Vander’s?” you repeat.

Vi clears her throat and adjusts her footing, her hand coming to scratch the back of her neck again, “T-The band is playing a small set… for, uh, Benzo’s birthday…”

“Benzo’s birthday?” you ask, your voice a little softer than before.

Her smile falters, just a bit, as if she’s not sure how to tell you this.

“Yeah… I just thought, I’d really like it if you came,” Vi continues, her words trailing off, her eyes softening as she catches the way you’re watching her.

You pause for a moment, letting her words sink in, and you realize there’s something more to this invitation than she’s letting on.

And you didn’t know if you should accept it.

“I didn’t know Benzo’s birthday was coming up,” you reply with a soft laugh.

To be fair, you haven’t even seen him or Vander in a while ever since… well…

“It’d be nice… to have you there,” Vi says again, a little more tentative this time.

The truth is, you’re scared.

Scared of what it might mean to show up at her show, to step into her world again, even for just a night, remembering how hard it had been the last time you were together.

But, you can’t help yourself, and you say…

“Okay,” you say softly despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. “I’ll be there.”

Then, she smiles—genuine, full, like you’ve just given her something she wasn’t sure she’d get back. “Really? That’d be—yeah, that’d be great.”

“Friday then,” you say with a soft smile.

Vi nods, a little too eagerly, her whole body seeming to react before her mind even catches up.

“Mhm. Friday.”

Her voice is quiet but sure like a promise she intends to keep, like she’d carve the date into stone if you asked her to.

And god, the way she’s looking at you drives you absolutely fucking insane.

After all these years—she still looks at you like that. Like she’d do anything you asked her to. Like she’d drop everything if you told her to stay.

“I’ll see you then,” you murmur.

And Vi just stands there, watching you, her smile lingering long after you’ve turned away.

Fuck. She’s still very much in trouble.

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jacaerysgf · 1 year ago

Text

First everything

Summary: in desperate need to pass your upcoming math test you go to your best friend for help, your best friend who you just so happen to be in love with. Sometimes feelings just spill out and theres nothing you can do but embrace it and try to navigate through it.

modern!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

w.c: 4.2k

c.w: college au, nerdy jace, two virgins just trying to figure it out, virginity loss (both), fingering (fem), oral (fem), minor hand-job, p in v, protected sex, love confessions, glasses stay on during sex, theres also fluff guys, not proofread

a.n: for my nerdy jace warriors out there 🫡 pls lmk your thoughts !

perm jace taglist (open!) <3 @tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons @earth4angels

you could not afford to fail this upcoming math test with you’re grade already as rocky as it is and if you didn’t nail it your grades were gonna tank.

So you decide to do the only rational thing you can think of and go stop by your best friends house who just so happens to be basically a genius to get him to tutor you. You don’t text him, having a key to his place and checking his location you can see he’s home he definitely won’t mind you just dropping by.

He’s been your best friend since you two were kids, having lived across the street from you the two of you would always stand by the bus stop together and chat and when you got older he started driving you to school. you guys would spend all the time together though you guys didn’t end up in the same college you guys happened to both get into colleges in the same city and lived right near each other.

He was perfect essentially, you try to ignore that gnawing feeling in your stomach every time you speak to him or even think about him. You’ve liked him for as long as you can remember but you never tried to do anything out of fear of ruining the relationship you two have built. You also can’t get a read on if he feels the same, everything you two have ever done has been platonic, cuddling on the couch while watching a movie, having sleepovers, but you can shake the feeling of wanting to be more, maybe he was thinking the same way but you had no clue.

The apartment is quiet when you enter, when you call his name and there’s no response you think for a second maybe he went out and left his phone? but that’s not like him at all. until you walk towards his bathroom and you can hear the shower running and let out a sigh of relief as you begin to set up your stuff in the living room and order some take out for the two of you on your phone.

busying yourself on your phone you don’t even hear the shower turn off or the door open until you hear the soft thumps on the floor of his footsteps and when you look up the two of you gasp at one another. With water dripping down his chest and a firm hand places on the towel around his waist, his glasses all fogged up and his face hot red you feel like you might pass out.

“I’m so sorry oh my god i had no clue you were coming i haven't checked my phone um oh god.” You can barely pay attention to his rambling as you can’t take your eyes off him. Since when was he toned? oh and the towel is low enough you can see his v line. NO! You shake your head as you find yourself heating up, “no no its my fault Jace i never texted you i just thought i would show up um.. I’m so sorry i should have texted.”

He scratches the back of his head as he begins to move his way to his room, “no its okay you can show up any time i just, um i uh let me go get dressed.” With that he quickly rushes away without another word his ears and face blaringly red. when the door shuts and you’re alone once again you lean against the couch and take a couple deep breaths. you cannot be thinking about him like this right now. Your thighs press together unconsciously as the memory of him was still so fresh in your mind.

You quickly stand and rush to his bathroom to splash some cold water on your face to snap yourself out of it. he’s your best friend who you just so happen to be in love with and today will fill your fantasies for the next decade. You manage to get yourself back on the couch and run a hand down your face as you try to calm your racing heart and mind. Its fine its cool its just a normal thing people shower and they just so happen to get naked in the shower its not weird to see your best friend shirtless no its not.

he walks back into the room and sits down on the couch next to you, now dressed in a white t-shirt and some sweatpants, his glasses free of fog but his hair drips onto his shoulders and shirt making some parts of it see through. when you look closely you can even still see his ears are a bright red. “is everything good? its not like you to just show up out of the blue.” you are thankful he’s acting like that did not just happen, or maybe you’re just overthinking it and its not a big deal.

“i need to trade brains with you this Friday at 11 am.” his beautiful laugh fills your ears as he raises his brows at you, “you’re finally admitting I'm smarter than you?” You playfully huff and push his shoulder lightly as he smiles at you. “you’re way better at math then me, i need help Jace please.” you press your hands together in a plea and he taps his chin as if he’s in thought. “I don’t know, what do i get in return?” You pout at him and scoot a bit closer, “you get to hang out with your gorgeous smart and talented best friend?” He blows raspberry's and looks up at the ceiling turning himself away from you. “and i bought take out.” “deal.”

He is a great help, though he’s a history major he’s still places in a math level higher than you and he’s able to guide you though everything you’re struggling with ease. Its usually so easy to ignore how you feel about him but tonight is different. You don't know if its hormones or if there's something in the air but you can’t stop staring at him thinking about him. The way he bites on the top of his pen when he’s in thought, when his forehead creases while he’s checking over your work or listening to you, the way he moves his hands while he talks and explains the problems and the solutions you can’t even stop looking at him while he’s eating.

This was bad. very bad. but at least you managed to get the information he’s told you poured into your head and with his notes you’re sure to ace the test. After a couple hours of studying you two decided to put on a movie but you can’t even cuddle up next to him like you normally would instead choosing to lay on the other side of the couching praying he doesn’t ask about you’re odd behavior.

You can’t help but continue to look at him throughout the movie barely even looking at the screen. he has such a nice side profile. At one point he glances at you and catches your eye so you quickly turn away from him but he sits up and pauses the movie, turning to you with concern laced in his eyes. “Okay spit it out what's wrong?” you. you shrug and try to play it off like nothing, you certainly can’t tell him what's really bothering you. “I’m just worried about the test.” “the you i know would have stopped worrying about the test as soon as you closed that textbook.” you let out a shaky sigh and he moves to sit next to you, staring at you with his puppy dog eyes desperately. “you can always tell me anything you know that right?”

not this. you can’t tell him this. as much as you want to. Yet your heart aches at the thought of not being able to kiss him at the thought of not spending yet another day another minute being his and him being yours. he grabs your hands and his voice is hushed laced with care, “please.”

you cave.

“I'm in love with you.”

You watch him freeze and you take a deep breath as you look down at your connected hands. “i know this is really sudden but i cant hide this any longer. i think I've loved you since the second i met you and i cant keep continuing to pretend like I'm not. If you don’t feel the same that's fine we can just move on and pretend like this never happened.” you let out a fake laugh and a couple shaky breaths as you get off your chest your best kept secret. When he doesn’t say anything you look at his face to see his glossy covered eyes and red tinted face. “Please say something.”

You can feel his hands tighten around yours as he lets out a shaky breath. “I'm so in love with you i feel like i'm gonna throw up.” you laugh as a wave of fresh air washes over you, he grins and lets out his own laugh as a lone tear runs down his face. “fuck this is not how i thought tonight would go.” You don’t know how long the two of you were sitting there just laughing and smiling at each other but it was just so peaceful.

You end up cupping his face and he freezes his breath caught in his throat. “Can i kiss you?” “Please.” The kiss is soft and slow but its everything you’ve every dreamed of. His lips are as soft as they've always looked, he’s clearly inexperienced but you are too and you figure it out together. You feel like you’re not close enough to him, so you end up separating from him and he watches with wide eyes as you sit yourself in his lap. His hands quickly move to grasp your waist as he gulps, you can feel his hardness poking at you through your shorts and he lets out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, i didn’t mean to its just,” he’s quickly cut off with a moan as you pull him into another kiss.

You can feel yourself aching in your stomach, yet you can’t bring yourself to do more until you pull away from his lips. a long string of salvia that connects you two snaps as you begin to speak. “I want to go further, if only you want to.” His chest moves quickly up and down as he tries to catch his breath, he blinks rapidly as he looks at you with swollen lips, one of his hands moves to readjust his glasses. “I do its just, i don’t know what i'm doing.” the two of you softly laugh as you press your forehead against his and he lightly rubs his nose against yours. “I don’t know what I'm doing either, we’ll figure it out.”

His hands around your waist tighten as he places one last kiss on your lips before he stands, you squeal lightly as he keeps you firmly around his waist walking towards his room. “You could put me down you know?” He places a kiss on your cheek and you wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t want to.”

Once in the bedroom he lightly places you down on the bed and he stays standing up unsure of what he’s supposed to do. “do i like take off my clothes um.” You stand and the two of you look at one another. “Why don’t we both undress? or do you want to undress each other?” At your words his eyes light up and his ears couldn’t get any redder, he clearly likes the idea a lot so you grab his hands and place them on your shirt. “You can take it off.” He nods and lets out a shaky breath as he lifts your shirt over your head.

If you had known this was going to happen you would have chosen a cuter bra but you instead stand in your basic skin tone bra, heat rises on your face lightly with embarrassment but the look of amazement on his face has you feeling confident. You grab his hands once more and slide them to your waist where you help him tug down your pants and you stand in just your underwear in front of him. His mouth opens in amazement as his eyes dart all over you. “you’re so beautiful.” “shut up.” “im serious. you’re the most beautiful women ive ever seen. im the luckiest guy in the world.”

You place your hands on his neck as you place a light kiss on his lips. “you’re so sweet.” He shakes his head and his hands cup your face eyes full of love. “im only telling the truth.” Your hands move to the neck of his shirt and grip it. “Your turn.” His bright red face somehow only gets redder when you slide your hands down his chest to grab the bottom of his shirt and lifting it over his head. “when did you start working out?” He lets out a light moan as your hands drag down his stomach and rub around his chest. “when i moved here uhh the umm the complex has a gym.” You lightly um as your hands reach the waistband of his pants and you begin to toy with the elastic.

He expects you to take off his pants move back to sit on the bed but instead your hands goes inside the waistband to cup his budge from his briefs. The sound he lets out is not what you had been expecting, it sounds something closer to a whine as he questions you, “what are you doing?” You grin at him as his eyes dart all over your face. “Can i touch you?” He pants lightly as your hands already begins to move slight and he gulps. “shouldn’t i touch you? or umm oh i don’t know fuck please.” his head falls to your neck and he begins pecking light kisses on the skin there as your hand slips into his briefs and wraps around him.

He throbs in your hands, you lightly jerk him to see how he responds and you can hear a pleased moan as you continue to pump him in your hand using the precum that drips out of his tip as a lubricant you find a steady pace. He bites into the side of your neck and you let out a shaky moan as his grip tightens on your waist. you can feel wetness soak your skin whether it be his sweat or tears you have no clue but the only thing you can focus on his whines and moans in your ear. “you’re so good fuck fuck.” he must be getting close because you can feel him shaking but he suddenly grabs your hands and pulls them away from him as he pants.

“did i do something wrong? im sorry.” he quickly shakes his head, “no no of course not i just don’t want to um cum right now.” you tilt your head in confusion, why would he not want to cum? until he turns his head and even his neck has turned red and a light bulb flicks over your head and you let out an sound of understanding and grab his sweatpants to pull them down until they hit the floor.

you both stand face to face in just your underwear, you watch him eye your chest and you reach your hands up to unclip your bra. you slowly unclip it and he watches as it drags down your arms and you toss it lightly on the floor. you sit down on the bed and you motion for him to join you. he does and he warily watches your face for approval which you grant before he cups your breasts with a shuttered breath. You can tell somethings bothering him though, theres a look in his eyes that says somethings wrong but before you can question it he speaks.

“can i touch you?” its the same question you had throw at him but it gives you butterflies, you wonder if it had done the same to him. you spread your legs and he stares at the spot between your legs where you’re soaked. theres a huge spot on your practically ruined panties where you’ve begun to leak, theres even some residual wetness on your inner thighs. “fuck.” he licks his lips and looks up at you and your flushed face. “don’t get cocky jace.” he laughs lightly as his fingers press against your slit from the fabric and you let out a moan. he watches for your reactions as he begins to rub you through the fabric, “Jace, please.”

his fingers shake as they push the fabric aside and he touches your folds. “oh fuck you’re so fucking wet.” he just continues to rub at your skin, it feels nice but you both know you need more. “how many should i,,” he trails off, unsure of how to word the question. “two, just to start, you can add another when i tell you.” he nods and slowly pushes two fingers into you.

his fingers feel a lot better than yours do they're thicker and they're longer reaching a bit more than you can and your hands dig into his shoulders. “good?” you hiss lightly for a second as his hands wiggle lightly before nodding. “yes move please.” he quickly listens, pulling his fingers out before slowly pushing them back in methodically. He feeds off every sound you let out and moves quicker as your face contorts in pleasure. it feels good but its not enough and when you tell him he can add another he finger he looks at you unsure but when you reassure him its fine he does and the burn it adds satisfies the itch that you know can only be scratched once he’s inside of you.

when he pulls his fingers out before you can cum you whine but he just smiles at you “lift your hips for me.” you do and he slides your underwear down your legs exposing you fully to him. He takes a second to admire you before your eyes widen as he gets down on his knees, “i thought guys didn’t like that.” you try to tell him but he just shrugs, “i bet i will.”

he kisses you inner thighs slowly working his way up to your slit where he pauses before he lightly licks at your folds before pushing his tongue inside of you. your hand finds it way to his hair as he warily licks every drop of you he can get. when you tug at his hair he groans, you try your best to avoid his glasses which sit pushed up into his hair. Your face contorts with pleasure as you throw your head back. he’s messy and clearly unsure of what he’s doing but it doesn’t matter to you as he brings you closer to your release. you can feel your stomach burning as he suddenly pulls away and looks at you, he looks gorgeous with his hair a mess and his lips glossy.

“could you show me um where uh,,,” your brows furrow in confusion until you laugh and sit up. “its fine here.” you grab his hand and use his finger to push around inside of you until his finger presses against your clit and your moan. you suddenly fall back once again with your hands playing with your breasts while one of his hand plays with your clit and his other on your knee to keep your legs parted while he tongue works his way inside of you. you can no longer ignore the burning in your stomach as it becomes harder and harder to push down. “Jace I'm gonna oh fuck.” the grip you have on his hair tightens as you hiss when he continues to work you till you shake with pleasure and you essence drips into his mouth down his jaw and neck.

He shakily stands and licks his lips seemingly not caring that he was a mess. “do i-“ you pull him down on top of you and press your lips against him in a feverish kiss which he returns, “i want to be on top.” his eyes widen, “will that be good for you?” you nod rapidly eager to feel him inside of you and your eyes practically turn into hearts when he stands and pulls down his briefs, his hardness slapping his stomach you barely get the chance to admire him before he rummages around in his bedside table pulling out a clearly new box of condoms.

he struggles to open them slight with his shaky hands but manages to open it and grab one. when he looks back at you and your amused expression he looks down at the box with embarrassment. “Aegon got it for me. he was trying to tease me.” you grab him to sit on the bed and get him to lay back against the headboard while you grabbed the packet out of his hands. “then ill have to thank him later.”

you open the condom with your teeth before slowly sliding it down his length causing him to hiss and close his eyes to calm himself. the two of you look at each other as you sit up, “are you good?” he nods and lightly thanks you, “are you?” you also nod and you grab him to position him into your opening while he pulls his glasses back down to his face. with one last look you begin to sink down onto him.

you put your forehead against his and the two of you shudder with pleasure the lower and lower you get. once you get as low as you can go you pause and the two of you take a few moments to readjust. his glasses fog up as he catches your lips in his, when your hips move slightly up then back down he bites at your lip before throwing his head back and whines slightly while your mouth lulls open in pleasure.

You two find a simply rhythm with you moving up and down. sweat covering your bodies as the two of you sing in pleasure, his glasses are basically completely covered now with fog and you take them off his face before shoving your lips messily against his as his hands grip your hips to help you move up and down on him. the sounds of your skin slapping against each other and moans and whines fill the hot room. he throbs inside of you as he hits spots you've never been able to reach, your head falls into the cave of his neck neck as you feel yourself close. “Jace fuck you’re so good fuck.” he whines and bites your shoulder again “please cum please Jace fuck wanna feel it.” he cries into your neck as he nods, “i love you i love you so much.” “i love you too Jace.” when he feels you release around him it pushes him over the edge where he's shooting his load into his condom.

the two of you fall completely on top of each other in a sweaty sticky mess. you catch your breaths unable to think straight. no words are spoken for awhile until you sit up lightly and push the hair away from his sweaty face. “we should have done that sooner.” the two of you laugh as you peck his lips. “i really love you a lot Jace.” he beams and grabs his glasses to fiddle them back onto his face. “i love you too.” you hum and kiss his cheek. “as nice as you being inside me is i really have to pee.” the two of you hiss as you pull away and he sits up to watch you stumble your way towards the bathroom. he tosses the condom away and he stands to get a cup of water not bothering to put on any of his clothes.

he hands you a glass when you walk out of the bathroom and you chug it down before looking at yourself with disgust. “i need a shower.” “you can use it i don't mind.” you roll your eyes and slap his shoulder much to his confusion. “that's when you’re supposed to say then lets take one together dummy.” his face flushes for the millionth time that night as you walk away and sigh as you turn to see him not following you. “come on you’re not gonna leave me alone are you?” he downs his glass and quickly hurries to follow you as you giggle.

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