waiter one first date with jirou feed the lesbians plz
Are you gonna be my girl? - Kyouka Jirou
Contents: You'd been married to Kyouka Jirou for just over three years now, but you'd been together since high school. One peaceful afternoon, you came to the realization that you didn't remember your first date! Whatever will you do...?
Diary entry: This idea came to me with a dream about Marco Bodt. 1.1K
“Baby?” You called throughout the apartment, shuffling your feet on wooden floors to find the gorgeous being known as pro hero Earphone Jack — or, to you — Kyouka Jirou.
“Eh? What’s up, I’m in the laundry room!” She shouted back, clearing her throat. Jogging after her voice you stood in the doorway of the room, staring down at the purple haired girl shoving a load of dirty clothes into the washer.
“Do you remember our first date?” You asked, cocking your head to the side, awaiting an answer. She paused for a moment, looking up at the ceiling and then at you. She shook her head. “What, like… none of it? At all?”
She nodded. “I mean, I remember you kissing me in the cab back home. But that’s it. Why?”
You sighed, leaning against the wooden doorframe, fiddling with your fingers. “Can we have a first date then?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Honey, we’re already married. Why would you want a first date?”
You shrugged. “I just think it would be fun! We can go to a bar and do karaoke and get basket fries and a burger — or we can go to an aquarium and have an awkward first kiss under the fishies. — Oh please!!!” You begged, pouting.
Kyouka sighed heavily. “You know what? Sure, I’ll indulge you and your crazy ideas.” she scoffed, standing up and moving to you. Her fingers slid against your waist, pulling you closer for a kiss. “How about tomorrow night? We make Denki look after the dog, and you and I can go on a pretty “first” date wherever you want.” she grinned.
‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹
Luckily, you didn’t have work that day, and so spent most of your free time pottering around the house. Though, you did meet Denki at the dog park to hand off your precious first born (dog) to which he rather sexually insinuated that Kyouka and you would be doing more than just having a “date night.”
Apparently to that twelve year old, “date night” means more than just a meal out. Asshole.
You simply shook your head at him, giving the high-energy blonde a shake of your head before going back home to get ready. By the time that it was seven pm you were ready to go. Kyouka had insisted on getting ready at Mina’s house so that it was like a “real first date” and so you'd been left with the decision of what to wear, how to do your hair and … well, that was it really. She’d sorted out the rest of it, the location, what you were eating, how you were getting home, how you were getting there. Yeah, all of it.
With some battling with your hair and what felt like a hundred outfits later you’d found the perfect dress. A simple, long, leopard print dress that ended just above your ankles; it stuck to your waist and was held up with two thin straps. You’d also grabbed a black shawl to keep warm, and a pair of plain black heels.
A buzz of your phone indicated your wife’s arrival, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door of your home. She was standing outside next to a sleek black car, with a squint and a laugh you quickly realized that Mina was on the inside, a pair of black sunglasses covering her eyes.
Kyouka smirked, offering you a bouquet of pink lilies. “You look stunning.” She smiles softly. You walked toward her. “I got you flowers.”
“They’re very pretty, thank you.” You took them, threading your free hand into the hair at the base of her neck. She melted against you. Kyouka was dressed uncharacteristically minimalist, a plain black suit and a white shirt, the top three buttons undone. She leaned in for a kiss, pulling you by the small of your back to stand closer to her.
“What about me?” She whispered against your lips.
“Stunning, baby.”
Kyouka grinned, pulling away and opening the car door for you. You slid into the back, leaning forward to look at the centre console, Mina grinned back at you. “Whaddup?” She giggled. “Do I look classy? I feel really cool.”
“You look so awesome, Eijirou would be proud.” You replied, falling back into the cushion of the back seat. Jirou slid in next to you. “Where are we going?” You asked. Jirou looked at you, moving a hand over your knee.
“That’s a secret.” she reassured.
‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹
“Keep your eyes closed” Kyouka instructed, guiding you into a sweet swelling place, a trumpet playing slowly. Is this where you thought it was?
“Oh my gosh, you didn’t.”
“Maybe I did… open!” You removed your hands from in front of your eyes, looking around the reds and oranges that filled your surroundings. You squealed quietly, linking arms with Kyouka as she studied your face for approval. “You like? I saw an advert last night and knew we had to come.”
Jazz music echoed in your ears, singers joining in as your wife — or first date — walked you over to a table for two in the corner of the room. “I love it! Holy shit it’s so pretty in here.” Kyouka just chuckled in return, standing to order drinks for the two of you.
The night went smoothly, the two of you bonded, laughing over things that really shouldn’t be funny as you drank. You spoke about stupid things like old memories from your high-school days, trashy hero gossip from neighboring hero agencies. You both people watched while enjoying the music, making up stories for anyone who did anything remotely interesting.
However, everything eventually came to an end, Mina came and picked you up (Or rather, Eijirou did) taking you home at closing time. The two of you scrambled into the house at about 1am, your hands sliding under Kyouka’s shirt as she dropped her jacket to the floor.
“At least put the flowers down.” she murmured, lips crashing against yours with fire you hadn’t felt from her since our wedding night. Your hands rushed to place down the flowers on the entry table as she lifted you — hands hooking under your thighs. She pushed you against the solid wood of the door, your arms crossed behind her neck, hooking to keep her close as her tongue pushed against your own.
Her mouth tasted faintly of whatever concoction of drinks she’d had throughout the night, though it wasn't as intoxicating as her scent. She moaned against you, pulling away for breath, you rested your forehead against hers, “Do you want to?” she asked, panting.
“Please.” you replied, taking her lips in another kiss as she carried you to the bedroom.”
Well, maybe Denki was right.
Taglist : @kamislop @simbaruto @ibbybelle @braunrot @themoong1rl @ihearttenkoshimura @somethingwebs (Send an ask to be added <3)
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Do not repost any of my works, or feed them to AI. - jeanmarcosno1 2026
Vi's socials had always been full of people begging for more private pics of her, but she doesn't consider it genuinely until she finds herself short for rent after a pretty bad night out.
At first, it's just a few more risque pictures here and there with a couple of videos of her pretending to talk someone through it. Those do well and after a DM, Vi starts to post more.
She keeps it a secret from you at first, but of course one of your friends brings it up. Vi doesn't deny it, but she's definitely not out and proud about it. If anything, you think she avoids you for the next few weeks.
Vi avoiding you is bad enough, but when she starts bringing more women home you drive yourself crazy wondering if she's filming with them or just releasing stress. That's when you finally just bite the bullet and go to Vi's page.
Her latest upload has you absolutely floored. You had seen Vi walk around the apartment in sports bras before so the nipple piercings weren't exactly a secret, but you had never seen them before.
You scroll because you're curious and Vi just happens to walk in as a video of her fucking a fleshlight with her strap plays. You're obviously embarrassed about being caught, but Vi seems to be equally mortified as she audibly moans your name in the video.
She leaves for the night and comes stumbling back in the early hours of the morning smelling like a mix of alcohols. Vi doesn't say anything as she climbs into bed with you and just passes out.
In the morning, you wake up practically buried under her body and in the process of trying to get out, you accidentally wake her up. Exhausted and maybe a little drunk still, Vi lets it slip how much she's been missing you and swears that she didn't mean to say your name in the video.
You guys dance around outwardly saying that you want to have sex, but admit that you aren't okay with things being platonic anymore. Vi offers not to fuck around with girls at the bar, but does tell you that she's been paying the rent with her videos online.
It's scary, but you offer to help her out. Vi immediately refuses, claiming that when she starts fucking you, it won't be for an audience. You take note of the protectiveness and jealousy at the thought of someone watching you get fucked.
Vi lets you sit in and watch some of her filming and once the cameras cut, she pulls you into bed with her. Vi lets you touch her because you want to, not because she needs it.
Eventually, she does slip up and accidentally films the two of you in bed together. Vi keeps it to herself and watches it over and over again if she has to film something without you in the apartment.
When the two of you start openly dating and are more than comfortable with each other, Vi opens up to the idea of filming with you a bit more. It's always her touching you (she claims to have a reputation to uphold) and most of the time, nothing can be seen past her head in the way.
Vi never pushes you towards anything and also never lets you see the comments. She gets genuinely upset when people thirst after you, as if she doesn't spent 95% of her time saying the same things about you. You deserve compliments, but Vi struggles with knowing someone else wants you the way she does.
Your favorite part is always after the cameras cut and Vi just holds you for a while. Aftercare with Vi is always sweet because she just wants to take care of you, especially after she gets a little rough with you.
Vi takes into account the things she knows you like as well as what makes the most money. Most of the time they overlap, but she'll always sacrifice money over your comfort.
She doesn't ever get to do collabs because the thought of touching someone else or letting them touch her makes her chest hurt. She also shuts down anyone who asks about "borrowing" you for a video or two.
synopsis: The separate lives of a pro-wrestling woman wrestler and an up-and-coming actress cross when one post is shared. As the world uncovers the history between the two, they must dodge the punch or throw in the towel.
warnings: boi idk language and y/n pov
a/n: thank you for all the love! Esp with this new formate of the fic which I was super excited for since it’s like celeb stuff!!
🥊 pitfighter!vi who has been sharing her apartment with you ever since she met you at the bar after a fight, both drunk as hell and bonding over missing your exes.
🥊 pitfighter!vi who, even if she barely had space for her own self in that small shithole, made you feel welcome in her mess by letting you punch her bag and jokingly saying "you can scream into my pillows, but just know that they're stained with makeup and sweat".
🥊 pitfighter!vi who let you sleep in her bed for a change. you patched her up after a fight, she let you sleep on her mattress. she could handle the floor for one night if it meant her wounds wouldn't pulse in pain anymore.
🥊 pitfighter!vi who one time went to the bar without you and returned back home completely wasted, crashed on the bed and sat right on top of you without noticing you were sitting there. you didn't try to move her either.
🥊 pitfighter! vi who goes to sleep with her smudged eyeshadow on, but always wakes up bare-faced. she tells herself that maybe she's too tired to remember taking it off, but in reality she knows you're the one who does it for her.
🥊 pitfighter!vi who started eating again. not because you kept nagging her to stop drinking on an empty stomach, though that definitely played a role as well, but because she actually found the motivation to eat when you were by her side.
🥊 pitfighter!vi who loves whispering things to you while you're asleep. she'd sit down on the floor or the bed, whatever you chose that night, and just say small things like "thank you for paying the drinks tonight" or "i'll do better in the pit next time".
🥊 pitfighter!vi who may have told loris that she doesn't think about cait as often when she's with you, and who panics every time you three hang out because what if he accidentally lets that slip out?
🥊 pitfighter!vi who allows you to bind her chest. it happened once after a particularly harsh fight— you took off the tight bandages from vi's chest so she could breathe properly, gently caressed the imprint they left on her skin, and the next morning you binded her back up. less tight, but still enough to offer support in the pit. it's been a ritual ever since.
🥊 pitfighter!vi who lets you cry in her arms when you're drunk, because she knows how it feels like to have so many emotions that they overwhelm you. she would simply rub your back, not saying a word until she felt your sobs turn into gentle sniffles.
🥊 pitfighter!vi who eventually started cuddling up with you during the winter nights. she'd make up excuses like the floor being too hard, or that her back was sore, but her only reason was that she couldn't stand hearing your teeth chatter.
🥊 pitfighter!vi who kissed you for the first time when you came to hug her after a fight. you ran towards her from the crowd, loris following behind you, and vi just... crashed her lips against yours. it wasn't harsh, just a bit too eager, maybe. but it was with vi, and that made it perfect.
synopsis: The separate lives of a pro-wrestling woman wrestler and an up-and-coming actress cross when one post is shared. As the world uncovers the history between the two, they must dodge the punch or throw in the towel.
a blurb in which you fake an orgasm and vi simply isn’t having it. inspired by this ask! this one’s for the girlies on ssris lmao
warnings: 18+ only, minors and men please do not interact. contains oral sex and fingering (r!receiving)
you’re not entirely sure how long you’ve been like this - splayed out on vi’s bed, your legs spread wide to allow her access to your drooling cunt. beneath your arched back, the bedsheets are wilted with sweat from countless minutes - maybe hours - of the redhead’s torturous mouth on your heat, her slender fingers in your clenching hole.
and it’s good - it always is with vi. she knows how to play you like an instrument, touching you with careful, practiced reverence, pulling noises from your lips that are novel even to you.
but as skilled as vi is, sometimes your body - no, your mind doesn’t want to cooperate. and that’s exactly what’s happening now as you writhe in vi’s embrace, internally begging your body to grant you the release you so desperately crave.
you’re sweating, panting, knuckles paling as you grab a fistful of vi’s hair and tug just roughly enough to draw out a moan from deep in her throat. the vibration feels delicious against your sopping cunt, but god, it’s just not enough.
frustration burns in your chest and your eyes brim with tears, a frown pulling your lips downward. the wet slurps of vi’s mouth devouring your cunt should push you closer to the edge, but all you feel is guilt for keeping her there, mouth latched to your clit as your orgasm evades you time and time again.
fuck it, you think, resigning yourself to one of the oldest tricks in the book. with an overdramatic, whiny moan, you pantomime an orgasm, forcing yourself to tremble beneath vi and hoping your acting isn’t embarrassingly inadequate. you pretend to ride out your pleasure on vi’s face, cunt smearing her with slickness from her nose to her chin, and then you sink into the mattress, acting out your usual post-orgasmic bliss. vi’s fingers slip out from inside you and her mouth leaves your clit; you sigh in faux satiation, eyes falling shut.
“what the hell was that?”
vi’s voice, all hoarse and rough around the edges, cuts through you like a knife.
you open your eyes and find her already looking right at you, powder-blue eyes narrowed with skepticism. one corner of her lips quirks downward.
“what was… what?” you ask, avoiding vi’s gaze. your stomach churns with embarrassment - does she know? is she angry?
“you didn’t come,” vi says to confirm your suspicions. “but you acted like you did.”
your hands fly to your face, covering the look of sheer humiliation that paints your features.
“i’m sorry,” you murmur from behind the shield of your hands. “i just… i was taking too long. i felt bad.”
“oh, baby,” vi says, voice dipped in honey. the mattress shifts as she moves closer to you, her hands curling around your wrists to encourage you to stop hiding. you oblige, looking up at her with burning cheeks. and she’s so pretty, her expression concerned, your arousal still half-wet on her lips.
“you don’t need to feel bad,” she reassures you, hand cupping your cheek, “and you definitely don’t have to fake an orgasm just to make me feel better.”
despite her reassurance, you’re still embarrassed, anxiously biting on your lower lip as you nod in understanding.
“besides,” she starts, her hand tracing the curves of your body from your torso down to your thigh. “i just want you to feel good. i don’t care how long it takes.”
all you can manage in response is a weak “okay,” which the redhead doesn’t seem too convinced by. she lifts her hand to your face again, pinches your chin between her index finger and thumb to encourage you to look at her.
“let me try again,” she says, eyes locked on yours. “and no more pretending.”
when you nod your assent, vi smiles, the scar on her lip stretching just so. she leans in for a kiss, lets you taste yourself on her lips before she lowers herself between your legs again.
and this time, you let your mind go blank as she curls her fingers inside you, brushing against your sweet spot with familiar precision. you let yourself melt into the pleasure of her tongue splitting through your folds, allowing yourself to enjoy the way she laps at your pussy like you’re her favorite flavor.
truth be told, vi would spend an eternity between your spread thighs, worshipping you with her mouth and stretching you open with her fingers. and she proves that to you now, lips pursed around your puffy clit and sucking on the sensitive bead until you’re truly, honestly moaning with pleasure. with her free hand, vi paws at your tits, pinches your taut nipples to hear the way your breath shudders and feel the way your cunt flutters around the fingers she’s got buried inside you.
this time, you don’t have to beg your body for release. your hips grind helplessly against vi’s face as the knot in your belly begins to unravel, and when your orgasm crashes into you, it’s with a white-hot pleasure that blurs your vision and sets fire to your every nerve. your body positively burns with pleasure, the exact release you’ve been dying for rocketing through you until you’re left spent and exhausted, drool spilling from the corner of your lips as you lie limp on the mattress.
“atta girl,” vi says, her voice muffled by the ringing in your ears. you grin deliriously at her when she appears in your line of sight, her thumb swiping away the drool on your cheek.
“see? that’s what it looks like when you really come for me. don’t think i don’t know the difference, princess.”
synopsis: The separate lives of a pro-wrestling woman wrestler and an up-and-coming actress cross when one post is shared. As the world uncovers the history between the two, they must dodge the punch or throw in the towel.
yes you love your girlfriend, yes you love the lesbian pervert with a stupid wet boot and a nice video she'll jerk to later.
cw # this contains smut so it's intended for adults, men and minors do not interact, bigclit!vi, could be taken as the part two of this fic right here yet works alone if you’re lazy, boot riding, fingering, spit, cute and degrading nicknames too, switch!vi who turns into sub!vi, public sex, vi records you for educational purposes, nice pussy munching ñom ñom, established relationship,,,, # art by — visualeffex on x, divider bunny draws by pierrotpokes.
violet vanderson's been on a bad luck streak lately.
it all depends on how you see it-- but it has reached the point where it has your girlfriend biting her fist until her teeth leave marks in the knuckles and it's now a problem cause why, the fuck, would you be putting her through this torture?
you're making too much noise, the curtain of the dressing room barely covers the edges of the allegedly private room, and it's hard for your girlfriend not to moan — what's worse? have your girl blushing while paying wet underwear, or having to stop that delicious back and forth your hips keep doing while you ride her boot?
it fucks vi up entirely. leaves any rational thought in absolute oblivion as her mouth opens on its own and she has to bite her lip in response, caressing your cheek cause well, how else will she let you know how much she's enjoying it? keep you close as you take care of her needs, her aches and desires.
the store's full and she needs a moment to remember how exactly she ended up in that position: when she accepted to join you in a shopping spree the idea of public fucking never even crossed her brain but having you try on cute clothes in front of her? must be a gift from heaven between lacy bras and cute underwear that slips inside of her mind until it's the only thought she can keep for more than a minute. a kiss, two, three, how can you not want her hands all over you? how can't want take all over?
it's not planned. big chunky doctor martens boots with exquisite platforms are enough to make you salivate and suddenly? vi's stomach drops cause you're sitting on her left feet and the movement becomes a torture — makes your girlfriend swear she can feel you even under the thick leather of the shoe while that cute underwear set you were trying before makes wonders, hell-- since when is green such an interesting color? since when exactly are you into boot riding?
it's reasonable vi thinks, more worried about not being aware of when you pushed her to the dressing room's seat than the situation itself, now trapped in a small chair that holds her entire weight as she gets comfortable for you: when did your non-bought underwear start getting soaked like that? ignoring any detail becomes an impossible task now as you're whimpering, biting your lips, your inner cheek-- anything in your power to keep the pleasure for yourself, to keep going without the risk.
"that's it bug-- holy fuck. you're doing so good."
the moisten leather helps you move, and your cunt opens following the form of vi's shoe, delicious friction that makes the blood move in its circulation flow, take it to the erogenous zones: that fucking green set makes you look like a goddess and she cannot stop looking it ready to burn it to ashes, see the sweat that makes you glow under the white lights closer, the disheveled look, needy to cum.
"are you going to take a picture? they last longer."
it's entrancing, how you're capable of mocking her even when you're the one melting, a mere whisper of encouragement that makes vi blush. crushed, she's not surprised by the warmth that comes from between her parted legs, the result of her underwear now sticking to her pussy lips due to how turned on she is making it more painful to endure. half nervous, your girlfriend's voice never betrays her before simply adding: — "not really in for pics, bug-- you gonna be a nice whore for me and let me record you?"
and fuck you're dirty. you're pure filth and violet's aware of it, of every nasty thought, every crazy idea that crosses your mind in the worst moments. she knows that smile you gift her from before, how it tingles your brain right where she wants to before taking her phone out ready to press play.
fuck it if it's a mess when you become needier as the seconds pass: is it really greedy to ask for more? is it really your fault as your hand reaches the thick fabric of her black jeans and rub between her legs? it's a way of helping yourself out too, notice your girlfriend in delicious details you keep to yourself, relish in how her breathing picks up, how her cheeks keep stained in a subtle red shade.
"please let me eat you," you blurt out, words slipping on their own until it becomes a shared secret you love to be a part of, "vi-- please let me eat you."
it's like winning the olympics, a gold medal on fucking you up.
"what happened to the boot?"
"please."
"you will put on a good show for me, bunny?"
the need is a sin and violet's guilty. guilty of indulging your needs, always incapable of saying no. her muscles tense as she's holding her weight up so you can take off her pants, and there's no time to think about it twice, be aware of how pathetic she must look-- the ruined underwear that is now a proof of an overwhelming desire, the sound of your laugh that leaves goosebumps behind cause shame's not a valid option anymore-- god, your girl needs you, is that so crazy to admit?
your fingers touch her from over the cotton of her underwear and its soaked to the point its useless, a cruel reminder of how you're in control suddenly and she's there to comply, be good: of course you'll put on a fucking show for her, and the phone in vi's hand shake for a minute forgetting to angle the camera to your face-- oh ffuuuck is that her on your cheeks? glossy transparent now smeared on your lips like new a lipstick shade.
its evident at this point, the small budge that makes your mouth water, the smell in the air that makes vi dizzy for a moment. the sight of your girlfriend in front of you would make anyone misbehave — starting from the face she makes while looking down at you with half-lidded eyes, even how her body reacts to your touch, unable to stay still since she's desperate to get more.
delicious.
"does it hurt?" you question leaving soft kisses against her naked thighs, not giving much time to answer as your tongue rests flat against vi's engorged clit, a simple touch that makes her muscles tense at the contact, automatically dragging her hips closer to your face so you can be closer, deeper between her legs.
it does hurt, but how can she answer? your saliva blends with her juices and your touch's so soft it burns on the exposed skin and shit-- you're taking your time in pleasing her cause there's no need to rush it, to go faster even when it's a fucking store and there's people trying on clothes no more than footsteps away.
isn't it more exciting? the shot of adrenaline, the vaccine of danger. your mouth feels warm, welcoming. your tongue flicks around her swollen clit and the touch makes vi rest her head in the wall her body lies against, erratic breathing and whispered words of love, sure she's suffering from some kind of fever dream, a classic midnight fantasy.
so her bad luck streak-- how was that? when the blood tastes like licking metal in her mouth and you're sucking on her g-spot, its harder to stay silent, hand shoved inside your own green lace, your girlfriend swears you follow the same fast rhythm on your own cunt cause you'll always be the insatiable rabbit, the tortuous monster who cannot get enough.
she's not aware of the video no longer, even when she keeps recording it in what should be a decent angle vi can see the moment you make her underwear to the side, hand that forces the cotton as the other one spread her pussy lips further apart just to make it easier to see, gather some saliva in your mouth until you spit and the contact is enough to have vi getting crazy.
"stay still," she'd do anything you say without questioning, dry mouth as your thumb pushes against her hole, "they will hear us vi, do you want us to stop?"
"mm--no, no-"
its hotter than-fucking-ever. mouth closing against her big clit,taking it all in. lips surrounding her button, pink bush sticking to your face. you use two fingers at first slowly sinking them into her cunt, and you do it so damn good, so fucking nice when you work her to take them entirely, knuckles in, fingers slightly curved so they can hit that delicious spot you know by memory, entirely yours.
bad luck.
bad luck.
bad luck.
awfully loud, painfully unaware of her own self, when vi cums her body shakes uncontrolled, a fever that's impossible to sweat out when she feels you everywhere, soft lips that kiss her folds, gentle tongue that licks up and down, fingers that keep her stuffed, you never ease yourself even when the high comes in waves that drag her to the center of the earth. red face that matches the pink of her hair, mouth that hangs open, you have her, right? she leans on you cause you will always have her.
soft skin, the dressing room's silent and you thank for how sensitive violet can be, how desperate she is to cum, how easy it turns to please her.
so when you get a dirty look from the workers in the shop ten minutes after? fuck them, she owe it to you right? from that time she masturbated in the bathrooms of that same shopping mall — dude.
she's so getting banned from ever entering the mall again: the lesbian pervert with a stupid wet boot and a nice video she'll jerk to later.
When you started wondering whether loving Aang was supposed to feel this sad, you never expected the answer to come from Zuko.
PAIRING: Zuko x Reader |vs.| Aang x Reader
SYNOPSIS: You spent several years loving Aang—waited through missed anniversaries, forgotten birthdays, unfinished conversations, and promises meant with all the sincerity in the world. You knew loving Aang would also mean that you understood that he is also the Avatar. What you never expected was that healing from the sadness you felt while loving him would lead you back to the one person who had never left your side—your childhood best friend, Zuko. As old promises linger and new beginnings take root, you must decide whether love is found in the person you waited for or the person who stayed.
Chapter 1: What's Wrong With Me? [90% done | to be posted...]
"I keep looking for distractions, hope the feeling passes but I've got to say, it's getting harder everyday."
CHAPTER OVERVIEW: Your anniversary ends the way too many days with Aang does—with another goodbye. Left behind in Republic City while he answers the call of duty, you spend the evening alone until Zuko unexpectedly stays by your side, turning disappointment into laughter beneath the city lights. Months later, Aang returns with promises of uninterrupted time together, reminding you just how deeply he loves you, only for duty to pull him away once more. Sick, exhausted, and trying not to dwell on another empty goodbye, you throw yourself into work until Zuko quietly intervenes, insisting you rest while he handles the burden you refuse to set down. As storms rage outside the palace walls, you ask him for one simple thing—to stay—and for the first time, someone chooses you over everything else.
WARNINGS: None | No beta, we die like Gojo
Chapter 2: Begged [40% done | to be posted... ]
"They say it's a virtue to not let good love slip away, so I'm cool and forgiving. I'll take what you're giving... but nothing's quite enough."
CHAPTER OVERVIEW: Ember Island offers a temporary escape from Republic City, but not from the loneliness that follows you wherever Aang’s duties take him. Though his letters are filled with affection and promises of seeing you soon, “soon” never seems to arrive. As you spend your days tending to work, visiting your paternal grandfather, and reminiscing about simpler times at Ember Island with Zuko, you slowly realize how much of your life has become an exercise in patience. Every farewell is met with understanding. Every delay is forgiven. Every letter you send carries the same quiet request hidden between the lines: stay. By winter’s approach, you’re no longer certain whether you’re waiting for Aang—or begging him to choose you.
WARNINGS: Blood, characters being injured | No beta, we die like Gojo
Chapter 3: Less [30% done | to be posted... ]
"If loving me means crying on the curb at LAX, I wish you loved me less."
CHAPTER OVERVIEW: The colder the days become, the more fragile everything seems. Though Aang’s letters continue to arrive with reassurance and affection, they cannot replace the comfort of his presence when you need it most. As grief, responsibility, and loneliness begin to intertwine, you find yourself relying on the people who choose to remain—including Zuko, who never seems to leave when you ask him to stay. But by the time Aang finally comes home, some wounds have already had too much time to grow. And as your patience finally reaches its limit, you’re forced to confront how much of yourself have been spent loving someone who could never truly stay.
WARNINGS: Grief, minor character death | No beta, we die like Gojo
Chapter 4: The Cure [20% done | to be posted... ]
“My head is full of poison and my heart is full of doubts."
CHAPTER OVERVIEW: Aang leaves with a promise of coming back. Zuko leaves you with his confession of his true feelings that you aren’t ready to hear. Caught between heartbreak and healing, you choose distance, hoping time will quiet the confusion growing inside you. Instead, time only makes certain things clearer. Some people remain even when they’re given every reason to walk away. Some feelings refuse to disappear no matter how deeply they’re buried, and when your heart is finally ready for an answer, it returns to the person who never stopped choosing it.
WARNINGS: MDNI, suggestive content, heavy kissing | No beta, we die like Gojo
Chapter 5: Honeybee [20% done | to be posted... ]
“Baby boy, Honeybee, God— I love the way you look at me, and it's too hard to describe this in a way that feels honest, but even when I'm quiet, I love you, baby. I promise."
CHAPTER OVERVIEW: The waiting is over. The doubts are quieter now, replaced by a happiness so gentle that it almost catches you off guard. As late night intimate talks turn into wedding plans, future dreams, and conversations about the life you want together begin to fill your days, you discover that love was never meant to feel like a battle. It was always supposed to feel like peace. Now, you look into the future, hand in hand with the person who chose you every day, you finally understand that some promises are worth waiting for.
WARNINGS: MDNI, nsfw content—virginity loss, heavy kissing, pregnancy talks | No beta, we die like Gojo
BIA'S NOTE: This mini-series is inspired by Olivia’s new album. The girl on the swing gif that I made is Olivia! (inspired by her album cover) reminder that it's not representing the reader, as the reader is you, pookie! | Aang vs. Zuko x Reader is not being talked enough, so I’m here to serve 😼
౨ৎ lazy mornings with ochako, legs tangled together, the soft snoring of her breathing. the sun shining in through the delicate lace of the curtains, highlighting her auburn locks messily cascading down her flushed face. her pale pink tank top rising up her midriff, exposing milky tanned skin that you know—if you were to touch—would melt into your fingertips like molten lava.
and she’ll stir, straight into your arms, as you stare at her with messy strands loose from your braid—the one she did last night with doting hands. and her wide doe eyes will open, lashes fluttering gracefully, and you’ll see the milky brown reminding you of creamer being stirred into coffee. of deer frolicking in the meadow, white spots and all. of silky lace ribbons tied in hair.
and you’ll playfully jab and knead at each other’s skin, neither wanting to get up, rolling around and tangling in the covers until you end back up side by side. warm hands on even warmer skin. the sun covering you both like a halo. the blanket laid loosely on the edge as you run fingers through hair and swap gloss, tasting the cherry chapstick on her plush lips.
pulling away with a dopey grin.
“mmm, strawberry?”
and she’ll giggle and hide her face into the pillow—because you guessed it right (you always do). and you’ll follow her movements, tickling her skin, causing her to squirm and laugh until the sound melts away.
and then you’re above her, peering into her eyes—the color of your shared irises swirling and mixing together into something almost digestible. and her face will light up a rosy pink, and you’ll press soft kisses all over her until the sun gets exceptionally bright and your cat comes in, tail swooshing in the air with soft meows, letting you both know it’s time to start the day.
ochako gets out of bed with a delicate yawn and a stretch of her limbs, revealing her sleep shorts with little teddy bears on them. and you’ll shoot her a daring grin, and she’ll beam—round cheeks and all—as she races you to the kitchen. footsteps pattering against the wooden floor, socks slipping on tile until you both reach the kitchen, breathless and giggling, gripping onto each other and the counter for support.
and you’ll bicker over who makes breakfast, dopey grins all the while, both so desperate to spoil the other that you settle on just doing it together. although she has a way of coaxing you easily, so you’re seated on the kitchen counter, legs dangling off the ledge as she mixes pancake batter. and you’re eating strawberries out of the carton while she flips pancakes, and as they sizzle into the heat of the pan, you’re tugging on her tank top, pulling her straight into you, settled between your legs.
you feed her strawberries and rub the red-tinged berry around her lips before kissing her—lapping the sickly sweet nectar off her mouth.
she tastes like springtime. like swimming in the lake where lily pads rest. like rolling down an open field where flowers cling to your skin and lighten your soul.
and you’ll shove the fork with fluffy sweetness—powdered sugar and syrup clinging to it—into your mouth, but it’ll never taste as sweet as ochako’s lips on yours. and you’ll lay cross-legged with matching tummy aches, endlessly flipping through the channels, only to find there’s nothing nearly as interesting on tv as ochako’s sweet voice filtering through the air, straight to your heart.
and the day will pass by quietly, and before you know it, the sun will set and the animals will rest. your bedroom floor will be coated in thrown shirts. the house will smell of cinnamon and vanilla from the baked cookies. the bathroom will still have the soft glow of dimly lit candles, and the scent of ochako’s cherry blossom shampoo will drift throughout the master bath to the bed you’re laying on—bubbles still drifting in the air from the bath you both shared mere moments ago, skin lathered in perfumy scents, tangled bodies sinking into warm sheets.
and you’ll lay on the bed, the mattress sinking you further and further down, covers hung over bodies, fingers intertwined, moving in harmony with breathless gasps of overwhelming ecstasy—twisted in each other’s entropy.
and you’ll taste the moonlight on her lips.
you’ll taste every season that passes—from spring showers to december’s chill.
and you won’t be able to rest until you hear the sound of her breathing that soothes you to sleep.
you should make vi x photographer!readr, i feel like you'd do great, like little headcanons, nothing long is needed :) i love ur writing so sosoos much
you're so sweet!! thank you honey, i really appreciate it 🤍 it means the world to me! can't thank you enough <333 and about the idea... i love this!! the potential, the dynamics, the everything is just *chef´s kiss* sooo... here we go ^-^
CONTENT WARNING: vi x photographer!reader. fluff, fluff, and more fluff! a bit suggestive at the end (mdni!).
first time you meet, you're at the park holding out a pretzel and trying to take a picture of it with your phone. vi, distracted as she is, bumps into you and the snack falls out of your hand. her immediate reaction is to scoff and say "look where you're going" but as soon as she looks at your face, the words get stuck in her throat. she's mesmerized. she ends up buying you a new snack and asking for your number.
vi is surprised how you find the beauty in everything. puddles after the rain, a flower growing through the pavement, sunlight hitting the dust in the air... the simpler things no one else noticed, but you did, you loved them.
at first, she pretends to just be tagging along to your walks. but in reality, she loves watching you find the perfect angle, the perfect shot.
once, vi asked you why liked taking pictures so much. she didn't fully understand —some of the pictures were rough, simple, some would even say ugly or not worth taking.
"i'm not looking for a practiced pose or a bogus scene, i'm looking for something... real."
she nodded, not knowing if her heart was thumping in her chest because your explanation was so poetic or because the look on your face was so soft, so genuine, so vulnerable, it melted her.
fast forward to you dating...
vi is your muse. when she's around you, she lets herself go. her shoulders loosen up, she smiles more, she's not worried about impressing anyone, she's just herself.
the first time you take her picture, the flash accidentally goes off. vi turns to look at you, wide-eyed, but slowly smirks and lays back against the couch.
"y'know you could just ask, right hun?"
"mhm, but you looked so pretty i couldn't help myself."
she likes to complain about you "staring too much", but she secretly lives for it. she even tries to catch your attention when you're looking at anything else.
out on a date, the sun was already setting and the sunlights hit her in every perfect way: her hair, her eyes, her skin... you just had to take a picture. vi tried not to laugh at the way you quickly reached into your bag and pulled out the camera, and the way you let out a victorious "aha!" after getting the shot.
before you could react, vi takes the camera out of your hands and snaps a picture of you, too. you start giggling at the weird poses she's making, moving all around you as she keeps snapping pictures from different angles.
vi grins widely as you laugh, walking towards you and holding your waist with one hand as she pulls you closer. you smile at her and kiss her cheek, hearing another "click" as you do so.
"this is my all-time favorite", she says as you're looking at the pictures back at home.
she asks for a print, and she has it in her wallet till this day.
she bought you a polaroid camera for your birthday. you start bringing it on your dates, and Vi ends up buying a photo album so she can save all of the pictures you take.
once, as you were straddling her lap on the couch, you had an idea. you grabbed the polaroid and snapped a picture: your legs surrounding her hips —your pajama shorts barely covering anything, the waistband of vi's boxers and her abdomen peeking, stopping right at her belly button.
she looked up at you, half-surprised, half-amused. a crooked smile took over her lips.
"really?" she whispered teasingly.
you grinned, holding out the polaroid for her to see, "this is going into my personal collection."
"collection, huh? guess we have to take more pics if we want it to be a proper collection."
she leaned back into you, letting her hands rest at your hips. the camera clicked again, but now you captured her face: the way her eyes sparkled, the soft smile she only did for you, her tousled hair falling against her left shoulder.
she shook her head in mock exasperation, "god, you're obsessed with me."
"maybe," you leaned into her, lips ghosting over hers, "does that bother you?"
her fingers trailed the skin at your sides lightly, and you trembled against her touch, "not at all. now put the camera down, i've got other ways to make sure you're focused on me."
SYNOPSIS: Vi never imagined attending her first Pride parade would leave such a mark on her.
WC: 2k | CW: no use of y/n, this is just pure fluff
a/n: this sickly sweet fic is part of the pride & bloom collection! requests are open if you want to hop in and show our girlies some love during this month.
Bass thumps through the pavement beneath your shoes, mixing with bursts of laughter, whistles, and the occasional shout from somewhere up ahead. Rainbow flags flutter between buildings, bright against the summer sky, while crowds pour through the streets in every direction.
Vi shoves her hands in her pockets as she takes in the sight in front of her. She had never been to Pride before. Not because she didn’t want to, but because life kept getting in the way. She was too busy surviving, and that left little room for any sort of celebration, let alone a parade crowded with unapologetically happy people.
Her gaze drifts over the sea of color stretching down the avenue. Couple walking hand in hand, friends dancing to music spilling from speakers, people waving giant rainbow flags and others cheering loudly.
It’s an unfamiliar sight, not because she’d never seen queer people or loved another woman before. But seeing others existing without any fear, without the need to hide or look over their shoulders? It hits deep in her chest.
“It’s pretty impressive, right?”
Your voice finally pulls her back to the present. Vi glances over at you, finding you already watching her instead of the parade.
“Yeah,” a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “S’cool.”
“You nervous?”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Please. I’ve survived prison fights.”
The words come easily, the same way they always do whenever she’s trying to brush something off. But you don’t look convinced, not even for one second. Vi fights the urge to fidget under your gaze, really hoping you’ll let it go before you manage to see through her.
The thing is, she is nervous, and she feels ridiculous about it. She’s fought people twice her size, faced down armed enforcers, survived years she never should have survived at all. A crowder parade shouldn’t make her stomach twist itself into knots. Yet, she can’t shake the strange feeling sitting heavy in her chest.
Her eyes drift back to the crowd. To the women holding hands without hesitation, the couples wrapped in pride flags, the older woman laughing just as her wife pulls her into a dance in the middle of the street.
The sight makes her chest ache in a way she doesn’t understand. Not because they’re together or because they look head over heels in love, but because they’re older. Grey hairs, smile lines, years written across their faces.
For so long, Vi had never allowed herself to think that far ahead— life had taught her not to. She’d worried about tomorrow when tomorrow arrived. Anything beyond that felt dangerous, like tempting fate. So, she got used to focus on the next day, the next fight, the next problem around the corner. Thinking about the future had always felt like a luxury meant for somebody else.
But all around her are people who look like they’ve made it. People who found someone and got to keep them to build a life together. The realization settles beneath her ribs, because for the first time, she finds herself wondering what growing old with someone would be like, to stop surviving long enough to actually live.
Before she can dwell on it for too long, you reach for her hand.
“Hey,” your voice is gentler now, thumb brushing against her knuckles. She didn’t even notice how tightly she was clenching her fist. “You okay?”
Vi glances down and stares at your joined hands for a moment. She allows herself to just enjoy the warmth of your fingers wrapped around hers.
She squeezes your hand back. “I’m okay.”
You take a small step closer, your free hand rummaging through bag. A few seconds later, you pull your hand back out, something wrapped around your fingers.
“Here.”
Your fingers brush against her skin as you carefully fasten a bracelet around her wrist. Small beads in shades of orange, white and pink catch the sunlight when you pull back. There’s a tiny charm hanging from it, and Vi lifts her hand to inspect it more closely. Her heart skips a bit as she takes a good look at it— it’s your initial.
“I made ‘em last night,” a shy smile spreads across your face as you lift your own hand. “We’re matching.”
An identical bracelet sits there, except for the small golden V dangling from it.
The matching bands aren’t even fancy, the beads aren’t perfectly aligned, hell— one of them even looks slightly crooked. And somehow, that only makes it better, because you made it for her.
Warmth settles in her chest, pushing against the strange ache that had been living there since you arrived at the parade. Her thumb brushed over the tiny charm, your initial, and a grin spreads across her face before she can stop it.
“It’s the prettiest bracelet I’ve ever owned,” she starts, and there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes when she looks back at you again. “Pretty cheesy, though.”
Your jaw drops. “Cheesy?”
“Very.”
“You gotta be kidding me,” you point accusingly at her wrist. “Take it off then.”
Vi immediately wraps her hand around the bracelet, taking a small step back as she looks at you with an offended expression.
“I’m never taking it off.”
The grin that spreads across your face is impossible to miss.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of color, music, and laughter.
You drag her from booth to booth, stopping to admire handmade crafts, sample food from street vendors, and buy enough stickers to cover an entire wall. At some point, a volunteer paints a tiny rainbow on Vi’s cheek. She pretends to hate it, but the dozen photos she let you take of her suggest otherwise.
The parade is louder than she expected. Cheers erupt from every corner of the street, music spills from passing floats, strangers dance together as if they’ve known each other their whole lives. Normally, crowds like this would put her on edge and she’d be scanning every exit, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It’s in those overwhelming moments when her fingers drift to the bracelet wrapped around her wrist. Her thumb brushes over your initial in a small, absentminded gesture. Every time she touches it, the warmth in her chest returns.
For the first time in a long time, Vi finds herself enjoying the moment without worrying about what might go wrong or wondering when it will end. She laughs when you pull her into a dance she swears she doesn’t know, steals bites from your food when you aren’t looking, and lets you take picture after picture, even when she complains about every single one.
And every time she catches the sight of the grin on your face, she finds herself smiling right back.
By the time the sun begins to sink lower in the sky, painting the streets gold, the crowds have started to thin. You walk side by side, your hands brushing occasionally as you make your way away from the parade route.
The day settles comfortably between you with that kind of silence that only exists when you’re with the right person. Vi’s thumb catches on the bracelet again, and you notice. A soft smile takes over your lips as you bump against her shoulder lightly.
“You’ve been playing with that thing all day.”
“It’s my favorite thing in the world,” Vi glances down at the bracelet, smiling with such tenderness it makes your heart ache.
You chuckle at her statement, and the sound makes her heart skip a bit. She looks over her shoulder, watching the last of the festival-goers pass by. The families, the friends, the couples…
She exhales quietly. “I think I get it now.”
You glance at her, eyes slightly furrowed with confusion.
“Get what?”
Vi hesitates because she’s not used to being vulnerable out loud. At least, not in the middle of the street. But she looks back once again, toward the flags still waving in the distance and the people who had spent the entire day celebrating who they were without apology.
A lump forms unexpectedly in her throat.
“Pride.”
Your expression softens, fingers curling around hers as you listen intently.
“I always thought it was just…” She gestures vaguely. “Y’know, music, big party, lots of hot people on the street.”
“And now?” you prompt, eyes never leaving her face.
Vi swallows as she tries to turn her overwhelming train of thought into a coherent sentence. Now she thinks about the older couple dancing in the street, about the countless hands she’d seen intertwined throughout the day, about the future, about belonging… about you.
“Now I see is people getting to be happy,” her grip on your hand tightens softly. “People getting to love who they love and not have to hide it.”
She pauses for a second. Then, a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“And maybe it is about realizing there’s a place for us, too.”
Your eyes fill with so much affection it nearly knocks the breath from her lungs. Before she can mutter anything else, you step closer. Close enough that she can catch the faint scent of sunscreen lingering on your skin, mixed with whatever sweet drink you’d been carrying around all afternoon.
Your hand rises to her cheek, and the rest of the world begins to blur. The tiny rainbow has started to fade, but she still feels your thumb brush across it.
You lean in, your lips finding hers with such tenderness it makes her knees weak. The kiss is slow enough for Vi to feel every part of it— the warmth of your mouth, the way your fingers curl against her jaw, the quiet sigh you let out when she leans back into you.
All day she’d been watching people celebrate love without fear, and now she finally gets it. She’s certain that she doesn’t have to earn her place beside you, she doesn’t have to fight for it, she’s allowed to be loved.
You pull back first, only far enough to rest your forehead against hers. Her hands find your automatically, fingers intertwining as the bracelets on your wrist shift with the movement.
Vi opens her eyes and finds you smiling at her, a smile so full of love it makes her chest ache all over again.
“I love you,” you whisper, thumb tracing over her cheek.
The lump returns to her throat, but she doesn’t try to swallow it down now. Instead, she squeezes your hand.
“I love you,” and she means it.
For the first time, the future doesn’t feel frightening. It feels worth looking forward to.
“…you’re a big sap.”
Vi groans immediately, hands grabbing your waist as she lets her head drop backwards. “Oh, c’mon.”
“You got emotional and it almost made me cry,” you grin, pulling her closer. When she glances back at you, she notices your teary eyes.
“I did not get emotional.”
“You should totally do next year’s Pride speech.”
Her face immediately drains of color. “There’s no fucking way.”
You laugh, the sound bright and carefree as you begin pulling her down the street.
“Please! You’d be great.”
“No.”
“You could talk about belonging.”
“No.”
“The future? Or at least give the girls some lesbian sex tips?”
Vi nearly trips over her own feet. “Okay, that’s enough.”
Your laughter only grows louder. She rolls her eyes, but smiles despite herself and lets you guide her down the street. Vi’s fingers brush against the bracelet wrapped around her wrist one last time, your initial catching against her thumb. It’s a small, simple detail, yet it somehow feels like everything.
Maybe Pride is about celebration. Maybe it’s about community. Or maybe it’s about love. But as she looks at you, chuckling beside her with your matching bracelet glinting in the sunlight, Vi thinks it’s also about finding your people, about finding your place.
And finally realizing you were never outside of it. You were just waiting for someone to take your hand and lead you home.
Alex (Vi's wife) @lesbian-redgiraffe - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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