How Sakamoto Days characters handle you being scared of them because of their job
Characters: Shin Asakura, Yoichi Nagumo, Seba Brothers, Gaku, Heisuke Mashimo
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A/N: Hope you like this one OwO
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~~Shin Asakura~~
When you pull away from him with that wide-eyed fear, it hits him like a ton of bricks. He hears it in your thoughts before you even speak it. “He's dangerous... what if he snaps?"
Shin freezes. His heart pounds, not because you’re wrong—he has killed people—but because you’re terrified of him, not what he’s done. That distinction shatters something inside.
“You think I’d ever hurt you?” he asks softly, voice cracking a little as he gently lowers his hand, like even touching you would confirm your fears.
He gives you space. Too much space. For days, he barely meets your gaze, too afraid of what he’ll hear in your mind again.
Eventually, he breaks, sitting outside your room like some kicked puppy. “I’ve done terrible things,” he admits. “But if I could hear just one thought from you where you trusted me again… I’d do anything for that.”
When you finally reach out, saying, “I just needed time to process,” he leans into your touch like a dying man given water. He whispers, “Then take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
He’ll never stop being protective—but he’s more careful now, more open. And when you finally kiss him, hands trembling, he doesn’t read your mind. He wants to feel your trust the human way.
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~~Yoichi Nagumo~~
He laughs it off at first. “You scared of me? Babe, I’m the guy who brings you takeout and clips your cat’s nails.”
But when you flinch at the sound of his knife clicking open, everything stops. His expression drops like a mask falling away.
“You know, I pretend a lot,” he says, almost too casually. “Happy-go-lucky, pretty-boy hitman. But pretending you’re not afraid of me? That one really hurt.”
He disappears for a day or two. Not because he’s angry, but because he needs to figure out if being in your life is actually hurting you more than helping.
When he comes back, it’s late. Rain clings to him. He crawls into your bed fully clothed, laying next to you with his back to yours. “I never wanted you to see that part of me,” he murmurs. “But if you’d rather see the truth than love a lie, I’ll show you everything.”
He opens up like never before. About his past, about how much of it he regrets, about how every time he holds a blade. He thinks of what he could lose.
And when you finally touch his face and say, “I trust you,” his smirk returns, slower this time. “Then I’ll treasure that trust because you have no idea how much it matters to me."
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~~Natsuki Seba~~
He gets quiet—scary quiet—when you recoil from his smile after hearing a story about one of his past missions.
“So it’s finally come to this, huh?” he says, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them slowly. “The moment when you realize I’m a monster.”
But there’s no bite in his voice—just exhaustion. He’s used to being seen as a weapon, a tool, a successful test subject. But he thought you saw him as human.
He doesn’t beg. Doesn’t plead. Just... slowly starts building walls. Talking to you only when necessary, pulling all-nighters again, isolating himself in data and chemicals.
When you confront him, saying, “I was scared, not disgusted,” he doesn’t believe you. Not at first. “You wouldn’t be the first to lie to me,” he mutters.
You finally break through when you patch up a wound he didn’t even ask you to touch. “You’re still you,” you whisper. And he grabs your wrist—hard—not to stop you, but because he’s shaking.
That night, he kisses you like a dying man. Desperate, soft, and scared. “If I scare you again,” he says, forehead pressed to yours, “tell me. I’d rather break myself apart than lose you.”
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~~Mafuyu Seba~~
It’s a knife to the chest when you say, “I don’t know who you are anymore.” And Mafuyu just… smiles. Like he was expecting this.
“You were the one good thing I didn’t have to earn,” he says coldly. “Guess I got that wrong too.”
He shuts down completely. Barely sleep. Doesn’t text. You find his coat on your couch like he meant to come home but couldn’t.
The worst part? He wants to fix it. But he doesn’t know how. He was raised on logic and rules—emotions are messy, unpredictable. Dangerous. For the longest time, he never even had the guts for skin-to-skin contact. You were the first person to jump over the high walls.
So you break the silence first. You find him slumped over a desk, staring at a photo of you two. “Were you ever going to come back?”
“I was scared I’d break something that mattered,” he admits, looking up with raw eyes. “I don’t know how to be loved and feared at the same time.”
You hold him close and say, “Then let’s figure it out together.” His kiss is shaky, tender, and terrified. “I’ll make myself better,” he promises.
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~~Gaku~~
He’s not surprised when you back away. He saw the fear in your eyes the moment he told you the truth.
“You thought I was just some weird, messy guy with a sharp tongue,” he mutters. “Turns out I’m also a trained killer. Surprise.”
He doesn’t beg or apologize. He just leaves. Ghosts you. The type of silence that tastes like blood and old memories.
You find him again by accident, nursing a busted lip in an alley. “Why didn’t you say goodbye?” you ask.
“Because I knew you’d try to stop me,” he replies, not meeting your eyes. “And I couldn’t watch you look at me like that again.”
You walk up and cup his jaw, thumb brushing his bruise. “You scare me,” you admit. “But I still love you.” That’s when he breaks, he hides his face in your shoulder and just breathes, like it’s the first real breath he’s taken in days.
Later that night, his touch is rough but reverent. He kisses your scars and his own. “If you ever want out,” he says, “I’ll let you go. But until then—I’m yours, even if I don’t deserve it.”
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~~Heisuke Mashimo~~
He tries to joke it off. “I mean, who hasn’t accidentally blown something up, right?” But when you don’t laugh, he realizes this is serious.
His heart drops. “You think I’d hurt you?” he says, so softly it breaks your heart. “I’ve never even raised my voice at you.”
He spirals hard. Convinces himself you’re better off without him, that he’s too reckless, too unstable. He starts sleeping in his van again.
The guilt eats at him. You hear him muttering in his sleep—begging for forgiveness, apologizing to you, to the people he's failed.
You sat down next to him one night and said, “If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here.” He just stares at you like you’re some miracle he doesn’t deserve.
He hugs you too tightly. Buries his face in your neck like you’re his only anchor. “Please don’t be scared of me,” he whispers. “I’d rather blow myself up than hurt you.”
That night, he’s surprisingly tender. Fumbling, awkward, but passionate. “I’m yours,” he says between kisses. “Just tell me what to fix and I’ll do it.”
You're lying on your back, side by side on the roof of their apartment, just like you have a hundred times before. The night sky stretches above, glittering with stars, but the only thing you can feel is the heat of them beside you.
Too close, not close enough.
You’ve been best friends forever. Everyone says it. Everyone assumes you’ll end up with someone else. But they don’t know about the quiet glances. The almost-touches. The way your heart stutters when he laughs at something only you say.
He shifts, propping himself up on an elbow to look at you. His eyes soften in the dark. “Can I ask you something?”
You hum in response, afraid to breathe too deeply.
“If I kissed you right now… would you hate me?”
Your heart stops. Just like that. Suspended in the silence between you and your best friend.
You turn your head to meet his gaze, and your voice is barely more than a whisper. You were afraid to say it, but now you're more afraid of keeping it quiet. “Try it and find out.”
And then he's leaning in.
It was tentative, reverent, like they’re terrified of ruining something sacred. The kiss is soft, slow, full of everything you’ve both been afraid to say. His fingers thread into yours like muscle memory.
When he pulls back, your foreheads rest together. His voice is raw when he whispers, “I've wanted to do that for years.”
You laugh, breathless. “Took you long enough.”
And in that moment, on a quiet rooftop, wrapped in moonlight and history, you both realize the truth.
You never really were just friends.
You were just waiting for the courage to admit it.
//clearing some drafts, idk if the characterization is good or not, i didn’t reread it//
Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader
Word Count: 1,407
Summary: With unwavering confidence, you figure there’s no harm in flirting with your boss considering you know he’s going to flirt back.
“Mr. Russo.” You smiled as you entered his office. “Glad I caught you.”
Billy’s gaze raked up and down her body shamelessly as she walked in. Long legs, curvy hips, full chest. The fitted skirt hid nothing and he loved it. The button up shirt she wore was teasingly open at the top, her ever pristine blazer over it. The heels she sported accentuated her legs and made his life increasingly difficult.
You came around to lean against the edge of his desk beside him. He rested his elbows on the desk and tilted his head up to meet your eyes. All calm, all control, all the head of a growing company, all making your life increasingly difficult.
“I have some papers that need your signature.” You offered him the folder.
“Wanna tell me what papers?” He asked, accepting the folder and flipping through it.
“Facility usage, equipment orders, safety waivers. The usual.”
“And you needed these right now?” He looked up at you again with raised brows.
“If I didn’t catch up with you now, who knows when we’d cross paths again?”
“Clearly, you know where my office is, Ms. Y/L/N.” He dropped the folder and leaned back in his desk chair. He rested one elbow on the arm and the other hand tapped against his knee. “You can find me whenever you need.”
There it was. There had always been a bit of a cat and mouse game between you and Billy. You two were friends before you started working at Anvil, always laughing and teasing and flirting. It was natural for you, albeit unintentional at times.
However, you purposefully turned it up with Billy recently. After an office party a few weeks prior, you had made a drunken remark that you innocently played off the next day in the office.
“If I said anything at the party, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m not fired, am I?”
Billy assured you that you hadn’t pushed boundaries with anyone other than him. He joked that it was funny and he wouldn’t hold it against you. You were planning to hold it against him, though.
Since then, your skirts were a little shorter. Your heels were a little higher. Your shirts were a little lower. Dresses a little tighter. But if Billy noticed, he was ever the gentleman and said nothing about it.
“I'm a busy woman, Mr. Russo.” You shrugged, pushing yourself up to sit on his desk.
You intently crossed your legs, knowing your skirt would shift up, and kept your eyes on him. He smirked slightly, eyes skimming the risen hemline.
“Busy woman.” He repeated with a nod. “All the time?”
“For the rest of my life.” You answered innocently, kicking your top foot slightly. “Same can be said for you.”
“Hmm.” He tilted his head. “You’d be surprised. Ms. Y/L/N, to know I can be quite accommodating when I want.”
“Flexibility can be good for business, I guess.” You shrugged.
“Are you flexible?”
“Depends. I wouldn’t let just anyone come into my calendar whenever they want, but if you mean in a literal sense, tantric yoga.”
He blew out a sigh before he grinned at you.
“The papers, Billy.” You nodded to the discarded folder. “I’ve got things to do, too.”
“Yeah?” He shifted back to sit properly at the desk. “Like what?”
“Do you really care?” You raised a brow.
“Humor me.”
“Lipstick to reapply, shaving to do.”
That made him look over at you.
You ran a light hand over your leg.
“I can accommodate, too.” You shrugged the other shoulder.
“Jesus.” He breathed, shaking his head. “Whatever man locks you down is the luckiest bastard in the world.” He mumbled as he began signing papers.
“Do you want to?” You asked suddenly.
You two were alone, the last ones in the office. Both of you had been toying with the other long before that party. And even since then, neither of you backed down or said anything otherwise.
There was no real harm in the question. That’s all it was anyways… Just a question.
“Do I what?” Billy answered, still focusing on the papers.
You slid off the desk without a word. You knew he understood what you were asking, but you weren’t going
to spell it out for him. Where was the fun in that?
Instead, you idly wandered his office.
“Y/N?” He asked.
You looked over and saw he was watching you.
“I asked if you want to.” You repeated.
“You think so?” He shifted back in his seat, papers forgotten once again.
“I think it’s unethical to turn me down.” You laughed slightly. “And my calendar is quite tight so I’d suggest you consider your opportunity here.”
“Let me ask you something, Y/N.” He said instead, standing from his chair.
You made no move, just turning slightly so you were face to face with him. He still held the height advantage, even with your heels on.
“If I were to turn you down, hypothetically, what would you do?” He crossed his arms, studied your expression.
“Deem you gay.” You shrugged. “Tell you I didn’t want you anyways. Take your pick.”
Neither were really anything you’d consider. Realistically, you’d probably pretend it never happened and maintain business as usual. But you figured it added to the little game so you went with it.
“Good to know.” He nodded.
“You can’t embarrass me about this.” You said plainly. “I know exactly who I am and exactly what I want.”
“Tell me.” He smirked.
“No, I think I’ve said enough.” You smiled. “If that’s all, Mr. Russo, I’ll file those papers.”
“Busy woman.” Billy smiled.
“All the time.” You agreed, brushing past him to collect the papers.
All but one were signed.
“You forgot one.” You frowned as you held up the paper.
“Yeah, I want to read that one over.” He gestured to the paper. “Come by in the morning for it.”
You glared at him.
“Unless that’s an issue.” He offered innocently. “I thought you were accommodating.”
You forced a smile despite your annoyance.
Once you were out of his office, you rolled your eyes.
The next morning, you waited a few hours before returning to Billy’s office. You wondered if he was anticipating your arrival.
That day, you sported dark dress pants and a button down vest with your usual heels. Your hair was neatly styled out of your face. All the aspects of a professional corporate woman.
“Mr. Russo.” You greeted, not bothering to knock. “I need that last waiver or else we can’t run the training next week.”
“I was wondering when you’d come by.” He motioned you in and you obliged.
“Yes, well, I’m-“
“Yeah, I know.” He cut you off.
“It’s no fun if I can’t finish.”
“You will.” He winked.
“Excuse me?” You felt a slight flush to your cheeks.
“I was thinking about what you said last night.”
“And?”
“And I think you’re right.”
“You think?” You raised a challenging brow. “Or you know?”
“I know-“ He corrected. “That I need you.”
“Yes, this place would fall apart without me.” You rolled your eyes, playing dumb. “The paper, Billy.” You held out an expectant hand.
“If I were to say that I needed you more than just this?” He gestured vaguely to the space around.
You quirked a brow. “Meaning?”
“C’mon, Y/N.” He chuckled in light disbelief. “Are you gonna make me say it?”
“Oh, I’d love to hear you say it.” You flattened both palms to lean against the desk and you didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to the now drooping neckline of your top.
“Just once.” You pouted slightly.
“You’re good.” He smiled.
“Thank you.” You returned the smile. “Now say it.”
“I need you.” He enunciated shamelessly.
Your smile grew a little wider. “And just like that-“ You stood straight. “-my clothes are off.” You gestured to your outfit.
“Let me take you to dinner.” He nodded, not bothering to hide how his eyes were tracing your figure.
“I’d have to check my calendar.” You clicked your tongue. “Might be too short notice, I don’t know.”
He tilted his head back and sighed. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“I can make it work, I suppose.” You exaggerated a sigh of your own. “If you promise it’ll be worth it.”
What Happen if You Touch Their Antennas (Ultron Drabbles)
Author Note: I haven’t seen any fic written where the reader grabbed Ultron’s antenna, so I made one. And I love my husbands equally (I don't. I hate MCU Ultron (///affectionate), so I write for both.
Words: 1,633
Available on Ao3 as well
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Rivals! Ultron
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
Glancing at you from his side, Ultron seemed to be annoyed with your sudden presence (as always). “Ask away, and make sure to make it fast, as I do not wish to waste my time. I have an important matter to do here.” He said as he continued scrolling on his screen. He may not have been exactly lying; his optics were busy looking for something.
“So what do those antennas do?” You pointed at his long, horn-like things on the side of his head. Those were longer than most Ultron variants you've ever seen in other timelines, and it did add the ant theme he had, as he was connected to Ant-Man himself.
“Does it have something to do with the significance of our battle, or were you just fulfilling your pathetic biological curiosity?” He sighed, despite it sounding made up in his robotic voice.
“If you don’t answer, this timeline unfortunately will explode!” You tried to put on a serious tone, but you couldn’t hold your laughter for 3 seconds.
“Ha ha, a funny jest.” Ultron remarked sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Busy again with his matters, you pouted your mouth and folded your hands. Oh, you hated being ignored.
But it didn’t last long until you found a stool on the corner, usually used by Jeff to reach the top of a table. Without realizing you were dragging the stool nearby, Ultron was still occupied with his own subject. It didn’t take much to reach next to him; now you were standing next to each other, head to head. Carefully, you touched one of his antennae, and to your surprise, he flinched away.
“Quit it, human!” His optics shine brighter in a red tone.
“Does that…tickle?”
“Sigh, I do not have pain or tickle receptors in my circuit. However, that does not mean I cannot feel your touch on my physical form.”
“Okay, but like, do you need it to hear? I mean, it looks like Hank put it there to serve as ears.”
Ultron was quiet for a moment, index claw knocking slowly on his temple, thinking whether he should obliterate you on the spot or entertain your curiosity. “If it would make you go away, then I shall explain.”
From his hand, he activated a hologram replica of himself, complete with his anatomy on each mechanical body part. “How my antennas work is more complicated than your obsolete organs called ‘ears.’”
He proceeded to point at the hologram of the device inside his head. “Here, as you can see, they are shaped like horns to direct a particular signal that is caught in my electric field. The size of a good working antenna should be proportional to the wavelength. And the strength of the field is determined by the voltage that is created across it. In your technology, sometimes the antenna had to be tuned to make sure it reached the right frequency. But mine does not need any, as it is already perfect the way it is.”
As he boasted of his so-called perfection, he noticed you were just staring with your jaws on the floor. He sighed once again, acknowledging you didn’t catch what he said. “...Yes, it works like ears. I use my antenna to catch signals coming around so I can get the frequency I need to function properly.”
“OH! So it works like our ears! Ha, I know it.”
“If you have everything you need, then you can get down from that stool and go far away from my workplace.”
“Wait, can I…” You put your index fingers together, gesturing a plea. “Maybe… a little touch?”
If only Tony hadn’t put up that stupid firewall, he’d already blast you across the room. “Fine. Just once.”
You giggled cheerfully, reaching for his antennas. You caressed carefully, feeling the odd and cold texture of rare metal mysterium. Ultron didn’t flinch anymore; instead, he was staring straight into your eyes as you were busy fulfilling your curiosity. While you were busy, he wondered to himself. From all his 7 decades of life journey and countless planets conquered, he ended up here. At this very moment, letting a nosy human touch his form.
“Are you done, human?”
“I think that’s enough. I don’t want to make you even more grumpy. ‘Go away, human; you are disturbing my time, blah blah.’ You pulled your tongue out, mocking him while he was growling furiously.
“Haha, see you next time, you old grumpy gramp!” You ran away mischievously as he looked at you in anger. But come to think about it, Ultron had a second sentiment inside his system. Somehow, having a human who actually listened to him and accompanied his lone time wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be…
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MCU! Ultron
“Aren’t you supposed to be scared? A little bit afraid of me, perhaps?” Ultron tilted his head, curious about how you just stood in front of him like a cat eyeing something.
“Eh, Maria told me you didn’t attack anyone who doesn’t provoke you. I mean, sure, you appearing in my garage is creepy, but it looks funny now that you look so confused.” Chuckling, you walked towards him while he backed a step.
Ultron was cautious, making sure every calculation he took on you didn’t end in a misstep, while you were on the opposite. And oh boy, he was taller and bigger than you expected. Even bigger than Tony’s expensive fridge. “My, you are taller than I thought.”
“Or maybe you were just a smaller-than-average human,” he joked, making you frown.
“Yeah, that was not quite nice of you.” You pouted as he laughed.
“You are…not as bad as I thought. I’m going to be honest, I sneaked in to intimidate you, perhaps taking you as a hostage and luring out the Avengers. But how could I hurt someone who does not see me as a threat?” He then murmured something, his voice tone changing drastically. “If I hurt you, what would make me different from the merciless humankind then?”
“Hey, relax. Don’t feel so guilty; I fought your sentries anyway. But the Maximoff twin seems to be…content around you. Cap said you might have manipulated them—”
“Manipulated them?!” His red lenses widen in disbelief.
“I should’ve known The Avengers are all vile ‘heroes’ who love to assume the worst. Why would I manipulate someone to be my ally if I can offer them benefits? Again, what would make me different compared to your kind? The only creature on this planet that is so full of war, hatred, and—" He stuttered his words, losing control of his emotion. For a genocidal robot, surely this one acts more like a man than a machine, ironically.
As he became more unstable and angry, you tried to think of something to calm him down. This was the first time you confronted a robot, let alone the giant one with a laser beam in his hand. As his eye started to glow brighter with his cheek vent opened, you quickly took a chair and reached for his face. But somehow it landed on his antenna thanks to his rapid movement due to his anger. There was…a moment of silence between you two. Ultron instantly stopped, confused about what you were doing.
“...I was meant to calm you down by holding your face…”
“...And your hand landed in the wrong place?” He cocked his head, curious about your intention.
You pulled a corner of your mouth, awkwardly forming a little smile. “Yeah…but I was also curious about these things on your head.” Your thumb gently caressed the cold metal. It felt weird; some may consider it rude. But you truly had no idea what to do when he could destroy you and your garage.
“Oh, it works just like your ears. Nothing really special.” He put his hand on yours and, surprisingly…was being gentle?
You took the brief time to inspect his face. You usually had to take a distance to properly look at him, or you would hurt your neck from looking above. His eyes shone prettily with the red light, although his face… not so much. There was something between the uncanny valley, as he ended up looking weirdly human, and the innocent look of a baby that was recently born. He was immature for a supposedly artificially intelligent being, cursed with vast knowledge and the dark history of humanity. And he was just following his program…
Did I just pity a machine that plans to end this world?
You quickly let go of his metal horns before drowning in your thoughts and may end up being his ally.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t do that.” You stepped down from the chair, moving it aside. “While I, surprisingly, enjoyed our time without a scar or bruise from an enemy of mine, maybe it is not a good idea for you to stay long.”
“Do you truly consider me your enemy?” He took a closer look at you, hunching down a bit with eyes giving you both a suspicious and disappointed look.
“This was the first time we didn’t try to tear each other apart. That being said, maybe it can change in the future.” You winked at him, giving him a positive signal (so he won't change his mind and blast you away).
“Very well. I don’t know what they would do to you if they found out you were having a conversation with ‘someone supposedly an enemy,’ anyway.” He hacked your automatic garage door, excusing himself. “...until we meet again. Hopefully, there won’t be bloodshed between me and you.” He gave you a last glance, then jetted away into the starry night sky.
Idk if fits the October /halloween theme, but how about a smutty /scary camping fic
a/n: this is my version of camping lol & this fic can be for whoever you please. there’s no distinct description of the mmc. i hope you enjoy, anon!
͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★
A shift had been sensed in her sleep. Her head popped up, her heartbeat increased when her eyes landed on a dark, looming figure that filled the doorway of her bedroom.
With the intention of getting away from daily life and clearing her head of any adult responsibilities, she retreated to the isolated townhome she had purchased years ago. She had come to the townhome alone, and being a woman, she triple-checked that no one had followed her. The doors and windows were also checked several times a day so she was unclear as to how someone else occupied this space with her.
Its presence was suffocating. Her heartrate continued at its quickened pace the longer she locked eyes with the figure. Moments later, it took slow steps toward the bed that she laid in. Fear didn’t have her body completely still so with each step it took, she inched closer toward the wooden headboard at the top of her bed. Her back was fully pressed against it once the figure stood tall at the opposite end.
From its current position, the moonlight from her bedroom window made it possible for her to decipher a human face and not one of a monster. If the circumstances were different, she definitely wouldn’t mind him approaching her with the intent to get to know her. However, this was not the time nor the place for those thoughts. There was a strange man in her home and she had no idea how he got inside or why he was here.
With her body still pressed into the cold wood of the headboard, her hand eased underneath one of the many pillows that were littered across the bed. Under this specific one to her right, a knife was present. She gripped onto the handle, ready to flash her weapon in order to scare off the stranger but her movements were halted by an imaginary force. Panic painted her face. She broke eye contact with the stranger as she glanced down at where her hand held the knife. With every bit of strength she possessed in this frightening moment, she attempted to get her hand to move but it was of no use.
Her gaze locked back onto the stranger at the end of her bed. The beginnings of a smirk were now present on his handsome face. She attempted to calm herself so she was level headed enough to effectively deal with the current situation. Her breaths were uneven and did not aid in her nerves settling enough for her to try her hand at drawing her weapon again.
The stranger reached out for her ankle and with nowhere else to run, he was able to grasp it in his hold in order to drag her to the edge of the bed. When close enough, she threw her right hand towards his body in order to jab the sharp point into his flesh. Yet, her efforts were not successful. Two major factors appeared, further confusing the event. When she went to stab him, she found that the knife she held moments prior was nowhere to be found and her hand that was balled into a fist went directly through him.
“What the fuck?”
Fear, panic, and shock resided in the lowest part of her abdomen, seemingly anchoring her to the bed. She sat with her legs over the edge and her feet touching the shiny, wooden floors below. He stood dangerously close, studying her expression while his face remained stoic. She soon felt his finger underneath her chin. He felt her body trembling but he didn’t mind since it would be doing that for the rest of eternity if things went as planned. He shifts her face, getting a good look at her. It wasn’t like it was necessary, he had been watching her ever since she stepped foot on the property that once belonged to him before tragedy struck and his life was taken in this very home decades ago. It was a sad story but to him, the afterlife was so much better than the human realm. He had everything he could’ve asked for, except someone on the other side to fulfill other needs that need to be met.
He checked on his land whenever he could pass into this realm and was intrigued by her once he saw her pull into the driveway and step out of her car. He had kept his presence hidden for years but now it was time to act on his intent.
Bypassing the terror that shone in her eyes, he took in all of her facial features then moved down to her nightly attire that consisted of an oversized graphic t-shirt. When he pulled her body down toward him, he saw that she had nothing else underneath, making it difficult to keep his composure and not rip the agitating clothing off.
He expected her to speak more than the three words she said once she realized that he had the knife taken out of her grasp with a simple movement of his eyes. He knew she had it and knew that she would try to scare him with it. He knew everything regarding her and the second home she now occupied.
“I’m not here to hurt you.” Was spoken in her head unexpectedly. It wasn’t her normal inner voice so she concluded that it had to belong to the man currently assessing her. The statement had to be true. He could’ve easily ended her life in an instant yet, she was still alive. She understood that there weren’t any other options that could save her from this. She had accepted her fate which lay in his hands.
“You’re perfect for me.”
Her brows briefly dipped in confusion before returning to their previous position above her eyes that were stuck on him.
“You will be mine.”
Even if she refuted, there was no use.
“Take off your clothes for me.”
A defiant response was on the tip of her tongue but she realized the imbalances of this interaction so she followed his instructions and took off her sleep shirt to reveal her naked body to him. He didn’t need to speak, his look did it for him. His eyes combed her body with appreciation, heating her skin. Not leaving her alone, he commenced to remove his clothes. The simple t-shirt and pants disappeared once they were off. The situation became more enticing than fearful once she took in his sculpted physique and the lengthy member that hung between his legs. In a matter of minutes she went from alarm and panic to willingly stripping for this handsome stranger and anticipating whatever else he had in store for her.
“Move back a bit.”
She got comfortable in her new position a few inches away from where she had been previously. He followed, climbing over her, his arms caging her in. While he could take what he wanted without question, even in the afterlife he had respect. His look questioned if he had permission to go forward and cross that line. She granted him access with a nod of her head. Where most men would go in for a kiss to add intimacy, he kept his face several centimeters away from hers in order to get an up close and personal view of her reaction.
There was no shock that when he ran his fingers over her center, her wetness coated them in a healthy layer. She didn’t miss the reminiscense of a smirk appearing on his face when he glanced down at his glistening fingers. She was ready to receive and he was ready to give.
He lined up at her entrance and eased in without an issue. His eyelids fluttered at the feeling of her warmth engulfing his length but he didn’t miss the way her entire body transformed due to his insertion. Her eyelids lowered until they were almost closed. Stroking her body, he was able to see her eye color change to the hypnotizing hazel shade that was identical to his. The vibrance of her skin color drained until it was pale, to match the dimness of his. It had been completed.
“Fuck.” The first real words spoken by him that she could actually hear outside of her head. It was sexy, holding a lustful tone that had her eyes rolling when it was mixed with the precise strokes that he gave her and the pressure of his thumb strumming her clit.
Her moans rang throughout the room as he continued to claim her body as his. He wasn’t finished until she was completely drained, and her voice was hoarse. Her body laid out, freshly fucked, was a sight that he could get used to for the rest of eternity.
So I totally made a self-insert, self-indulgance fic about Kar'Niss and arachnophobia. I don't go much into detail on it, but tbh...it's horribly ironic that a Drider has possibly cured my arachnophobia.
tw: mild arachnophobia
"There you are," He said gently uncupping his hands for the spider to comfortably sit in her trembling cupped hands. "You're doing wonderfully," He purred softly.
Tabby gulped, holding the hairy spider in her palms. It was harmless, listening to the command to behave from Kar'Niss. It almost sniffed at her palms, curious about this mortal the Drider grew fond of.
Her heart hammered as she held the spider in her hands, feeling its fuzzy legs tapping gently against her palms. With a shaky breath, she closed her eyes tight and held her palms out to the Drider again.
"Take them. I don't wanna hurt them," She whimpered, hands twitching as she shook.
Kar'Niss smiled and carefully lifted the creature, looking to it. "Good work," He muttered to it before gently setting it in the web above.
He returned and nuzzled her hair gently. "You're getting stronger."
She laughed nervously as Gale approached, glancing at Kar'Niss warily still. "Everything alright?" He asked, seeing Tabby's shaky hands and pale face.
Tabby nodded, sighing. "He's helping me with my arachnophobia," She confessed, smiling shakily. Gale's eyes widened. "I know, I know."
"You've been in a relationship with a Drider with a paralyzing fear of spiders? How does that work?" He chuckled.
"With a lot patience on his part," She confessed with a shy smile to the Drider.
Gale couldn't help the lopsided smirk that spread over his lips at the drow woman and her Drider partner. It was sweet.
someone, i tell you, in another time will remember us (part ii.)
Fandom: Arcane
Pairing: Vi x fem!reader
Read part i.
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, non-consensual drug use, sorta another panic attack?
A/N: Thanks for reading :) I’ll probably write a fluff chapter after this. (And because I love Ekko lol.) I hand-waved plot stuff as usual, and I think Jinx is OOC, so sorry about that. I hope you like :)
***
Caitlyn isn’t pleased, but Vi insists that you can provide another perspective to the topsiders. Ekko says he isn’t going without you, after making arrangements to look after your mother.
You feel like an amateur compared to everyone else as you follow them through Zaun, and even though it isn’t hard to navigate, the difference between you and them is painfully obvious. You’re jumpy, graceless, still looking over your shoulder too much. Which, really, is how you’ve survived so long, by being on high alert.
About halfway on the bridge, Caitlyn and Vi fall a little ways behind, having a heated conversation, which you only catch snippets of. You hear your name a few times. They suit each other, you think, blinking back the sting of tears. How can your feelings for Vi be just as strong?
You drift next to Ekko, whose frown melts away when he looks at you. He says, “I’m glad you’re coming.”
“Really?”
“I know you’ll have my back. And,” he pauses, grimacing at what awaits all of you, before smiling faintly. “You can talk anyone into anything.”
You hadn’t thought so. “I can?”
“Of course.” He smiles and taps your nose. “You have a very likable face.”
“Thanks. How useful.”
You both laugh a little, and he glances over his shoulder before looking forward again. “Vi thinks so, too.”
“Vi thinks I ‘have a very likable face?’ She told you that?”
Rolling his eyes, he bumps his shoulder against yours. “Not in so many words. But she likes you.”
You almost trip. Taking a deep breath, you try to keep your voice very neutral, “What makes you say that?”
“Everything she does, duh. How she looks at you. She liked you back then, too. I probably still have the bruises from her to prove it.”
“Bruises?”
“She’d try to get me to shut up about her crushing on you before you could overhear.”
You peek back over your shoulder at Caitlyn and Vi, walking so close their sides brush, heads bent close. You look away. “She was just embarrassed you were teasing her. And even if you were right, look at them now.”
Ekko blows out a huge sigh. “Alright, guess I have to bring out the big guns.”
“Huh?”
“Wanna bet on it? Like old times?” He smirks and tilts his head to the side. “You still like those sweetbuns, right? Loser has to buy some for the winner.”
“You’re on,” you say, whole body buzzing and feeling light, more happy than you have in years.
You slow to a stop as you realize you can’t hear a familiar pair of footsteps. You turn to find Vi hesitating.
“Vi?” Ekko asks.
“I can’t leave her again,” says Vi.
“You can’t change her.”
“I have to try.”
You want to stay with Vi, to help—but the idea of leaving Ekko to topsiders, no matter how capable he is, fills you with dread. You’re not sure what she’s talking about, but it’s obviously important to her. Ekko looks at you, tilting his head towards Vi. You shake yours “no” in response.
Ekko steps forward and hugs her. “Don’t get yourself killed.”
“No promises.”
You fly into Vi’s arms before you can help it. She holds you tight. She always gave the best hugs, and they feel even better now. Like her holding you is the only thing keeping you together. She cradles the back of your head, breath stuttering. Your stomach flips at the feeling of her thumb stroking the nape of your neck, you feel it all the way down your body. “Stay alive for me, won’t you, sweetheart?”
“You too,” you reply, voice choked with tears. You don’t specifically ask her to promise, but you wonder if she would, just for you.
You try to not stare as Vi gives Caitlyn the same hug. Vi says, “It’s been real, cupcake. Thanks for everything.”
You look at Ekko with raised eyebrows, and he rolls his eyes in response.
Vi pulls back, trails her fingers along Caitlyn’s cheek, and turns away. You feel like half your heart follows her. Ekko takes your hand, squeezes tight, says “I’ll get you back to her.”
You wonder if there will be a Vi to come back to. You trail after them in silence, trying to get the image of Vi stroking Caitlyn’s cheek out of your mind.
When you’re almost across, bright light cuts through your vision. You wince. Ekko steps in front of you.
“Halt!” shouts an Enforcer.
Immediately, your ears fill with white noise. Your sister’s ghost bobs in the corner of your vision. And you’re just a little kid, petrified and unmoving, ruining everything. Just like you did that night.
“What the hell is this?” Ekko asks. His voice helps—you’re here, you think, taking a deep breath in, picturing Vi breathing with you.
Caitlyn says, “Sir, I have proof. Silco is behind everything.” She steps forward, holding out her badge.
“Show me,” a man says, meeting her in the middle.
You hear Ekko say something, then taking a few steps forward too. Your sister’s ghost crowds closer. Clammy sweat breaks out along your forehead. Everything sways. Biting your lip, you try and breathe again—now would be the worst time to faint.
Then, a gunshot, and Ekko is on the ground. You scream and lunge towards him, but an Enforcer—when did they surround you?—grabs you from behind. You struggle, practically dislocating your shoulders, fighting as hard as you can, but it’s no use. The Enforcer shakes you a bit, and you still. He drags you backward, towards the edge of the bridge.
The man keeps his gun aimed at Caitlyn. She walks to the side, hands up, and he retrieves the case from Ekko’s body.
“Don’t touch him!” You snap, trying to sound intimidating, but it comes out weak.
Then, you hear it, Vi’s voice, “Caitlyn!”
Your relief is short-lived. There are too many of them. What if the man shoots her too?
The man addresses Caitlyn again, “I told you to leave this alone.”
A wave of tiny green lights descend. You keep your eyes on the man and Caitlyn, mind scrambling to come up with a plan. But you can’t do anything.
One light lands on the man’s gun. And for the second (third?) time, your world shatters.
You wake, face down with an Enforcer on top of you. The bright white lights from before flicker. Pure panic gives you the strength to kick the Enforcer away.
Ahead, you see—Ekko!—standing and facing someone. Your heart splinters as you spy Vi limping away with Caitlyn, her arm slung over her shoulders. “Vi!” You yell. Why was she leaving without you?
Vi pauses and turns, eyes wide. Immediately, she releases Caitlyn and sprints to you, kneeling and cupping your face. “Sweetheart, there you are. I thought—are you hurt?”
“I’m okay.” Your wrist hurts—you must have fallen on it—and your head aches, but you can walk.
“Let’s go,” she says.
“But Ekko—”
“I’ll be fine!” Ekko yells over his shoulder. “Just go!”
You fall into her arms, trembling, and she guides you back to Caitlyn. You sling Caitlyn’s arm over your shoulders, both of you supporting her. You look back one last time, to see who Ekko is facing off with.
A woman with long, blue braids. A familiar woman. Powder? You stumble a bit. You thought she was dead, but—her eyes light up with recognition, and she gives you a cheeky salute. You can’t help the faint, answering smile, because as much as she’s changed, you’re glad she’s alive.
You don’t speak much as you follow Caitlyn and Vi across. Vi leads you both to a small alcove, and you take the chance to sit with your head in your hands. Slowly, the world stops spinning. You don’t have to the energy to listen to whatever Vi and Caitlyn are saying, but the sound of voices is comforting, a reminder of the present.
Then you continue through the dark streets of Piltover, and to a huge mansion. You’re glad Caitlyn isn’t too heavy, because you feel weak and shaky—shock, you realize, hating it. Caitlyn and Vi are fine, and here you are, barely injured and about to break down.
Vi helps you both through a window, into a room which feels equally strange and overwhelming as Piltover’s streets.
“Who lives here?” Vi asks Caitlyn. “Another counselor friend of yours?”
The door bangs open.
You drop Caitlyn’s arm, falling back on your ass, staring in horror down the barrel of a gun.
The woman holding it gasps, “Caitlyn!” And to your relief, she lowers the gun.
“We were so worried, thank goodness you’re safe,” says a man, running by her. He hugs Caitlyn tightly.
The woman’s gaze land on Vi. “And you found a stray.” She looks to you, and doesn’t comment. You’re sure that you look way worse.
“This is Vi,” Caitlyn says, and introduces you too. “They’re from the undercity.”
“So I see. Could we have a word, Caitlyn? In private.”
They leave, and Vi steps over to you. “Up you get,” she says, hooking her arms under yours and lifting. She sits you on the edge of the bed, urges you to take your sweater off. Then she retrieves a damp washcloth from the bathroom, and starts wiping the sweat from your face. Slowly, you feel better looking at her, like everything will be okay.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
“What for?”
“I’m not strong.” You lift up your still trembling hands, choking back the taste of gunpowder and smoke. “Look, you’re fine. I barely got hurt, and I can’t even stop shaking. And Caitlyn—I couldn’t help her at all.”
Vi puts the cloth aside. Familiar fingers prod your throbbing wrist. “You are strong. It’s good that you’re not used to all this shit. I don’t want that for you.”
You’re close enough that you could count her freckles. She looks up at you and continues, “I’m glad you’re alright. On the bridge, I’m sorry—I couldn’t find you. I thought you were gone.”
“I’m glad you’re alright,” you say, smiling a little.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Just my second concussion in what, two days? I’m fine.”
Vi laughs and lifts your wrist, brushing her lips over it gently. It zings through your arm, straight to your heart.
“Vi,” you whisper, not sure what you’re going to confess, only that you won’t be able to take it back—
The door creaks. You lean back, yank your hands away, and scoot awkwardly off the bed. Caitlyn enters, looking surprised but much happier than before.
“We’ll present our case to the council. Tonight,” she says.
You step away, not looking at Vi. Vi scoots back on the bed, lying on her stomach and studying the map spread out on the floor. She asks Caitlyn, “You did all this yourself?”
You step towards the bathroom. “Mind if I shower?”
“Go ahead,” Caitlyn says, not taking her eyes from Vi.
You disappear inside, strip down and set the water as hot at it will go. It feels good, something to focus on, so you can stuff your heart back down. You don’t cry, because really, you can’t lose something you never had.
When you emerge (making sure to make a lot of noise beforehand), Vi stands at the window, and Caitlyn slips by you into the bathroom.
You try and keep quiet, so Vi won’t notice you staring—you try and memorize her: her red jacket, the tattoos trailing down her arms, what little you can see of the nape of her neck.
It doesn’t last long, as Vi turns to you with a sad smile. “How’re you holding up, sweetheart?”
“Fine,” you say. Instead of staring, you look around the bedroom, find the sweater from Ekko on the bed. Tug it on.
“Going somewhere?”
“I’m going home.”
For the first time, she sounds unsure, “Wh-what?”
“You don’t need me.” You adjust the sweater, just for something to do with your hands. “Tell Caitlyn thanks for me.”
“We do need you.”
“For what?” You force yourself to look at her, trying again to memorize her face. She looks younger, her eyes big and watery. “To be a coward?”
“You’re not a coward.”
“Vi, you can’t even tell me why I should stay.” You tug your boots on, concentrating on lacing them up. “I could get you and Caitlyn killed trying to protect me. And you don’t need me to talk to the Council.” You finish the last knot. I can do this. Just don’t look at her. “I can find my own way back. Good luck.”
Vi is silent as you make your way to her side, and open the window. You try to ignore the same electric feeling you get every time you’re near her. She grabs your uninjured wrist, not squeezing enough to hurt you, but you know you can’t break out of her hold. “Don’t,” she says.
You look into her eyes, your stupid heartbeat ticks up again, like a bomb. So you drop one. “I work for Silco.” Her eyes widen. “I’m a drug runner. I’m everything you hate.” She still doesn’t let go, but her grip loosens. You don’t look at her again, and you don’t look back, as you climb out the window.
Zaun’s darkness is a welcome change, and you find your familiar route back home. You almost make it, can see your street, when something—again, really?—hits the back of your head.
You wake in complete darkness, tied to a wooden chair. Footsteps sound from behind you, and before you can full-on panic, Powder, holding a lighter appears. A tiny spot in your neck stings.
She smiles, too wide. “Hello, friend.”
You swallow hard, nausea curling through your gut. Great. Now you’ve had three concussions. But strangely enough, your head doesn’t hurt, nor does your wrist from earlier. You’re not even dizzy. The pain in your neck is already fading. Why would Powder want you? “What’s going on?”
Powder sighs, steps closer and flicks some hair back from your face. “I need your help.” She starts to wheel you froward. Your stomach lurches, imagining a huge drop. It’s so dark.
“I thought—“ you try and think of a plan. But you can’t, you can’t think of anything beyond Vi, help, scared. “I thought you died.”
Powder giggles. “Fooled ya.”
She continues to wheel you forward into darkness, and then—finally—you see light. There are two chairs at either end of a long table. You can make out people tied to them, but they face away from you. The table is set up like a—a tea party?
“Now,” Powder says, settling your chair next to one that says “Powder.” “I need you to help me get Vi back.”
“What are you talking about?” You try to think through the buzz of panic, but it feels as futile as trying to catch birds with your bare hands. Maybe, if I keep her talking, I can find a way to escape. You shift in your chair—your tied wrists are already numb. Even your feet are tied to the chair.
Powder suddenly leaps onto the table directly in front of you. Before you can startle, she grips your jaw, turning your face towards her. “Good! You took that last dose well.”
Powder leaps off again, walks to your right, turns the chair around at the head of the table, revealing a tied up Silco. “Surprise!”
You flinch—you only met Silco briefly, once before, which was more than enough. You say, “Pow—Jinx, I still don’t understand. I can’t do anything.”
Silco asks, “Is this your friend, Jinx?”
“Yes!” Jinx says, delighted. “Isn’t she beautiful? I told you it would work.”
She strokes your cheek, and it feels sweet. Like you’ve never been touched before. You nuzzle her palm without thinking.
You dread whatever she saw in your eyes. And then you realize, your mouth tastes like sugar. “I don’t—” it’s suddenly very hard to speak.
“I think you’ll be happy,” she says, circling the table again. “Now you can be stronger, faster. It’s not perfect, of course. But you shouldn’t lose control like all the others. You’ve inhaled some every time you gave it to your mother. Isn’t that great?” She walks to the other end of the table, where there’s another chair. “Especially since I’m giving you this wonderful opportunity to make Vi yours. And we can be best friends again.” She turns the other chair around, revealing a terrified, tied up Vi. “You still love her, don’t you? You weren’t lying to me, back then?”
Your heart lurches. The worst way for Vi to find out. And you can’t even do anything to save her. You don’t look at Vi, you struggle to keep your gaze trained on Powder, and her gun. But it’s hard to focus, every time you blink, you just want to keep your eyes shut.
Vi says, “Powder, leave her out of this.”
Powder laughs, but it sounds wrong—laughter shouldn’t sound like that. “If you don’t want her to do it, then you do it.”
You struggle against the ropes—and it is strangely easier to move. The ropes snap. You kick the ones off your feet. Powder makes direct eye contact with you, and grins.
Everything still feels heavenly, like slipping into a hot bath. Like how you feel alive when you’re with…someone. Who again? You shift one last time, and the rest of the ropes fall away, as easy as shrugging off a jacket. Powder laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen. “Wow! I didn’t expect this to work!”
You look down at your hands. They look the same, no noticeable change, but very faintly, your skin has a purple glow. Not bright enough that you can see your veins, but enough. It reminds you of green light, and for some reason, tears gather thickly in your throat.
Powder points her gun at something at the other side of the table. “Make her go away.”
You stand, step forward without meaning to. A dark-haired woman is on the ground, unconscious. Everything Powder says feels like a great idea, and—you hear a choked gasp from… someone. For some reason, it makes you stop. You shut your eyes. You don’t feel angry, exactly, but you want to touch, to tear into something. But something inside you begs you not to listen, why shouldn’t you listen? It feels so much easier to just do whatever she says, then you don’t have to think—
Think. The more you think, the more that wonderful feeling goes away. Cool metal presses against your temple. Powder says, “Don’t make me do this.”
“Don’t!” Vi screams, voice hoarse. “Powder, please, I kept quiet—you promised me you wouldn’t hurt her. Please. We’ll—we’ll go away. Just the two of us.”
Your gaze finds Vi’s terrified, pleading face. Vi. You jerk your head away. “I’m not killing anyone.” Powder’s palm cracks against your cheek. Blood fills your mouth, tasting like honey. But the pain is grounding.
Silco looks too delighted at what you said. “Don’t you want to, though?”
That makes no sense. “What?” You ask.
Powder giggles. “I told him your secret.”
You can’t think of any other secret, besides the one that was already revealed. Strangely, Vi snaps, “Powder, don’t.”
Powder ignores her sister, even taking a few steps until she’s in front of Vi, blocking your view of her. “We all knew. About where you came from. Your real mother didn’t want you. She sold you. I always wanted to tell you,” Powder says. “You owe me.”
It’s too much to process, and doesn’t ignite the bloodlust they so clearly want. Your expression doesn’t change. Powder jabs her gun at Caitlyn again, eyes brimming with purple tears. “Now. Get. Rid. Of. Her.” You don’t move. Why would you? “No?” Powder sighs, lifting the gun towards you. “Now I’ll have to start all over.”
Before you know what you’re doing, you lunge at her. But Powder is faster. She blocks your clumsy punch easily. Your other hand fumbles for her gun, finds it. She has a stronger grip. She twists, digs the barrel into your stomach. You could force her hand, so the gun is pointed at her instead. If you’re quick enough.
You look into the face of your friend. The girl you finger-painted with, shared secrets with. Your big sister, what would she do? What would it do to Vi, to lose Powder?
You release the gun.
Powder fires. Vi screams your name.
Pain seeps into your stomach. Your knees slam into the ground. Your eyes droop, and dimly, you’re aware of Vi sobbing, which hurts most of all, but it’s already fading.
***
When you wake again, it’s in a vaguely familiar bed. Fresh air, trees. You’re back with the Firelights again. Everything aches. Bone deep. You panic and sit up, looking around for Powder, for Vi—is someone dead? What’s—
And, strangely enough, you hear familiar voices. It sounds like… your mother, and Vi? You scrub at your eyes. Surely you must be dreaming. What’s happening?
The door opens. Your breath catches as Vi walks in, her face drawn, but she gasps when her eyes meet yours. Rushing over, she grips your shoulders, gaze darting all over your face. “You’re awake.”
You clear your throat. It’s still too gummed up to speak. She hands you a glass of water, so you can ask, “What’s going on?”
“I thought—” Vi sits next to you, gripping your hand. Her other hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb gently pulling the skin below your eyes. She sighs in relief, lip trembling. She bites it. “We didn’t know if you’d wake up.”
“I—” you remember gunfire, pain, didn’t you get shot? “Am I dead?”
Vi laughs a little, and to your complete and utter shock, darts forward and presses a kiss to your cheek. As tired as you are, heat rushes to your face. “No. You actually healed quickly.” She rests her hand on your stomach, where you remember the bullet tearing into you. “Thanks to the shimmer.”
You wince, wait for the same cravings that your mother would describe to you, the delirium, but you don’t feel anything. You’re just tired, as if you’ve been awake for days, instead of asleep.
“Your mother is alright,” Vi says. “The Firelights took her in.”
You wonder what that entails, how long she’s been without shimmer. You look down at your lap, scrub your eyes again, then you realize there’s an IV needle in your hand. “I guess I really was out.”
Vi pats your knee and gets up. “I’ll get a medic to look you over.”
The medic does, and deems you fine, free of shimmer. You shower and after, force down some soup, while Vi fills you in on how Powder killed Silco. To your relief, she says Ekko sent word that he’s alright—he’s out on business. She seems to be leaving something else out, something big and painful, but you don’t ask. In clean clothes, feeling weirdly reminiscent of before, you sit on the bed, leaning back against the pillows. Vi is in a chair next to you, her hand resting on your knee. She’s been strangely quiet the entire time. Except for showering and fetching a medic, she’s refused to stop touching you—her hand on your knee, shoulder, lacing your fingers together whenever possible. It’s torture.
Everything feels like when you were younger. Vi would curl her hand over yours, teaching you how to make a fist, but you’d be so distracted that she’d have to teach you again. You feel that same nervousness creep up. Powder’s voice echoes in your mind, “You still love her, don’t you?”
You do, you know, still love her—because she fights for everyone she cares for, has the most beautiful laugh, and you can’t imagine going back to life without her. But Vi clearly does not return your feelings. And never will.
Staring down at your lap, you shift away from Vi’s touch. Her hand slides off your knee and onto the sheets. “I’m okay. You can go to Caitlyn.”
Vi reaches out again, snatching your hand this time. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Vi, I’m really fine.” You try to pull away, but she doesn’t release you.
“I know you are. Move over.”
Bewildered, you do so, your whole body tingling as she slips onto the bed beside you, slings an arm over your shoulder, holding you tight against her side. Electric heat floods your body. Face burning, you stare down at your lap, and try to calm down. Which is impossible, of course. You breathe very, very slowly.
“Hey.” Rough fingers trail along your chin, tilt your face up. Even across Vi’s eyelids, she has faint freckles. “What are you thinking about?”
“That I don’t understand.” You pull your head back, and Vi lets you go, but doesn’t break eye contact. “I almost killed your girlfriend.”
Vi clears her throat. “Caitlyn isn’t my girlfriend.” At your snort of disbelief, she continues, “We had a—” she sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “We had a thing, but—”
“We can forget about it,” you blurt.
“Forget?”
“What Powder said.” You can’t bear to say it. You slide down on the bed, turn your back on her and curl up. Tears stream down your cheeks and you wipe them away. “It was nothing. She was just messing with you.”
Vi says your name tenderly, squeezing your shoulder. You don’t budge. “Sweetheart, why exactly do you think I’m here?”
“I don’t know.” Despite yourself, you take a gross, sniffling breath in, your voice wobbly, “Just making sure your kid sister is okay. Like always.”
“Do you really think I ever thought of you as a kid sister?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No.” Vi tugs at your shoulder again, and you turn this time, immediately wishing you hadn’t. She’s looking at you like—like how you look at her. Your heart is in your throat. Her lips quirk. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I think of you?”
“No,” you breathe. You start to turn away from her, but her other arm comes down on your other side. If she was on top of you, she’d be caging you in. You sigh in defeat, your gaze flicking back up at her.
“Fine,” she says, “I’ll show you.”
Before you can protest, do anything, even fully turn to face her, her hand cups your cheek, and she leans over your shoulder and kisses you, firm and warm. You gasp against her lips, make an embarrassing squeak as you jerk away.
Vi, to your relief, sits back on her heels and smirks. Very carefully, you do not look at her mouth and sit up, biting your lip. You can still taste her. Vi asks, “Understand, now?”
“What is there to understand?” You ask, your voice very nearly a shriek.
Eternity ticks by as Vi watches you. “You’re making this really difficult. I—” She pauses, swallows twice, then drags you into the circle of her arms. It feels like on the bridge, like a goodbye, so you hug her back. And you do what you’ve always wanted to do, but never did: you clutch the back of her jacket. She buries her face against your neck. The tip of her nose is cold. “I’ve survived losing my parents. Vander, and Mylo, and Claggor. Your sister. I thought I’d lost Ekko and Powder. But, if I truly lost you, I couldn’t—” her voice breaks on the last word.
You can barely hear her over the blood rushing in your ears. This has to be a dream, right? Vi tightens her arms around you, almost crushing your ribs it’s so painful, but you don’t let go. She whispers, her lips brushing your neck, “I’ve loved you for so long. I don’t know how to do anything else.”
There are no words. Does she really mean it? You just keep holding her, like you’ve always wanted. But then, you think of your sister’s ghost. “Are you sure I’m not dead?”
“Do I have to convince you?”
You’re confused by her suddenly playful tone. “Yes?”
Vi huffs out a laugh and unwinds her arms, leaning back to look at you. Her face drops when she sees your expression. She cradles your cheek with one hand, thumb wiping away the tears there. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“Vi, I don’t—” You sniffle and hiccup. She’s such a crybaby, Mylo’s voice echoes in your mind. “I see her, all the time. I don’t know if this, if you’re—”
You stop as Vi grabs your other hand, intertwining your fingers. “I’ve always liked you. You’re cute. You were always, always there for me. My home is wherever you are.” She kisses the back of your hand and smiles. “It’s real, this is real, I promise. Actually,” she laughs, “ask Ekko if you don’t believe me. He wouldn’t shut up about it.”
Your chest unclenches, and you find yourself laughing too, really laughing. Not forced, or scared, but happy. “He told me that.”
Vi urges you to lie down. You curl into the curve of her body, and she wraps her arms tightly around your waist. You feel her smile against your hair. You spend a few minutes tracing patterns on her back, face pressed against the warm skin of her throat. You draw back, looking into her eyes, and ask, “Vi? Can I kiss you ag—” You don’t get to finish, because she’s leaned forward and kissed you.
You want to, you really do, but you’re not sure what to do. You freeze. Vi’s thumb strokes over the side of your throat, your jaw, your cheek, and the comfort helps. You relax, your lips parting. She makes a tiny, desperate noise that flares through you, and kisses you deeper.
You pull back, gasping, and Vi laughs at your stunned face. She kisses your forehead, then your closed eyelids, your cheeks, and you stay still until it’s too much. Grinning, you hide your face against her neck.
Vi holds you tight, running her fingers up and down your back. She clears her throat, and you’re pleased that her cheeks are pink like yours. “There is something I need to tell you.”
You wait. She presses her lips together, then shakes her head. “No. I’ll—I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
You’re content to wait, but, still… “I’m not leaving you. Whatever it is, we’re doing this together, alright?”
Vi smiles, the same smile you’ve always loved, and seals the promise with another kiss.
