COCKTAIL MOLOTOV !

pitfighter vi who promises reader just the tip and then gives her the whole strap🫶🫶🫶

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐏

vi making you take the whole strap

WARNINGS: NONCON! Dead Dove Do Not Eat, virginity loss, coercion, dacryphilia, spit play, implied corruption kink, bulging, be safe, heed warnings!

from roselí. ᡣ𐭩 : i am so in love with this idea omg omg omg— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i got carried away, so the ending is abrupt. ^^

Vi would just be going against her better judgment here, like she usually does about… everything.

"...Are you sure this is what you want, baby?"

She’d asked gently as she leaned down and whispered into your ear, her breath warm as it hit your skin. Vi's hands moved up and down your sides slowly, her body pressed against yours. She let out a something like a huff of a laugh through her nose at your whispered, ‘Yes… But— you remember our promise, right?’ It was something about that, that made you think, maybe you should’ve known better.

She promised a few nights ago that she would indulge your request of losing your virginity. She was close, trusted— you’d had no problem confessing it to her and she’d made you feel comfortable and safe in her presence. You didn’t want to lose it to just anybody, but you wanted to have the experience. “Just the tip.” She’d initially meant it as a joke. Just a lighthearted statement to loosen you up a bit, but she was taken aback when you’d eagarly nodded in agreement, holding her to that statement.

Vi chuckled lowly at you, your nervousness and anticipation was so cute and endearing. She leaned down, her body hovering over yours, her mass pressing you to the matress. She could feel your heart beating fast, it was exciting. She took a moment to relish in this moment, her lips moving down to your neck, kissing and biting at it softly. "You're so cute, you know that?" She whispered against your skin between kisses, gently biting and suckling the sensitive flesh on your neck. You could make out every strand of inky black hair on her head.

“Vi—”

“You’re nervous, huh?”

You swallowed thickly, trying to push down the nerves that were making it hard to breathe. “Yes.”

"Try to relax, it'll feel better." She murmured, finally sitting up straight, gripping the thick— almost daunting strap in her fist. She’d told you she had nothing smaller, that this was all she could offer you. She placed a large palm right above your pussy, pressing firmly to keep your hips still. “Ready for it?” she locked eyes with you, nudging the tip against your clit, slapping it there a few times. You nodded shakily, holding her gaze with anticipation.

“Words.”

“Yes I’m ready…” It came out shaky, like you were riding a bike on a rocky path. She nods curtly, her gaze falling to your pussy, all spread nicely for her. She taps the tip against your clit a few more times, enjoying the way you gasp softly before slowly tilting the tip downwards to your hole.

It started out subtle, a stinging sensation that slowly built up— but it spread quickly as she pushed further, your hole struggling to accommodate to her size. It felt like being ripped open, the girth of it pushing upwards of your blatter. Your back lifted off the bed. “O-ouch!—” You let out a soft yelp, grasping her hip tightly as to keep her grounded there.

"Shhh.. just keep breathing" She replied immediately, feeling you tense and her free hand coming up to push you back down onto the bed. "Just breathe, relax." She whispered, gently kissing along the leg she held up. You tried to do as she instructed, taking deep, shaky breaths, closing your eyes tightly. It was starting to work.

But your relief was short lived, snatched from you as you felt the searing pain of her sliding deeper. “W-wait vi— what are you doing?!” You took the hand you had placed firmly on her hip and pushed, trying your hardest to still her movement. But it was impossible— she was so strong, much moreso than you, your efforts were fruitless. "Shh... calm down, baby.." She whispered softly, trying to sooth you as she held her position for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling. Her free hand moved up to brush against your cheek and gently caress your chest, trying to get you to relax. Her voice was soft and calming, trying her best to comfort you as she felt you getting tense. "Relax. Everything is gonna be alright. I got you. I promise I'll go slow but..I need you to relax, okay? Just breathe…"

“N-no! Vi— you said just the tip!”

"I know, I know... baby, I'm sorry.." She said, her body moving still to hold herself up, one arm propped on the bed beside your head. She looked down at you with an understanding, but also determined look, trying to reassure you. "But you're doing so well for me. You're such a good girl..." She pushed her hips further, firmly this time, watching your expression closely. “Move your hand.” she commanded gently, and when you refused she grabbed it and pinned it your your side. She leaned down and pressed her lips to yours, claiming your lips in a deep and passionate kiss.

She frowned as you turned your head, a childish attempt at avoiding her affection. "Baby, please.." She begged softly, her hand reaching up and gently grabbing your chin, tilting your head back towards her so she would see your face. "Don't do that, look at me, baby. C'mon." Her voice was desperate. Her lips were so close to yours, her body leaning over you, her free hand still caressing your skin. She was aching for your taste again.

When you turned your face away from her a second time, low growl escaped her lips, her grip on your chin tightening. "No. Eyes on me, baby. I said look at me. I want you to look at me, I want to see your pretty face when I'm taking you." She commands, her voice firm yet gentle.

You felt her bottom out, your pelvis throbbing at the feeling. You felt to full, so uncomfortable. It hurt just to slightly move your hips. Tears blur your vision, a mixture of frustration and and betrayal overwhelming you. It felt like she was pressing down on you at all sides— her presence giving you a sick feeling in your tummy.

She started at a slow and steady pace, her hips meeting yours deliberately, one of her hands gently caressing the side of your face to try and sooth you. Her lips began to suck at your neck again, leaving soft, small love bites and hickeys along your skin, marking you as hers. "That's it... you're such a good girl for me, baby.... So so good... and you look so pretty like this. Taking me in... so good for me.." You didn’t bother to try wiping your tears, they would keep flowing anyways.

She took a hand and rubbed your clit meticulously, applying soft pressure. “F-fuck—!” You cursed, hands gripping the sheets tightly. Vi smirked at your reaction, rubbing just a bit faster, “Gotta loosen you up baby, you’re so tight.” She spit onto your pussy. “Relax, princess.”

“I can’t!”

“You can.” You try to bite back the yelps of pain, not wanting to edge her on any further than you already unkowingly have, tucking your lip between your teeth. You keep your eyes squeezed shut, your body rocking with every slam of her hips. "No, sweetness,” She takes her thumb and pulls your lip free. “You’re so pretty when you make little noises for me. Let me hear them, I wanna hear your pretty voice." Her eye contact was daunting and unwavering, it made you nauseous.

Her pace began to pick up a bit more, her hips moving more urgently against you. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air, along with her soft, ragged breaths and your yelps. Her free hand squeezed your hip, her slender fingers digging into the soft flesh. Her mouth came down and began to gently nuzzle your neck, her breath hot against your skin as she pressed messy little kisses along the sensitive flesh there.

“How is it, hm?” She said between kisses, but you chose not to respond. You were focused on the way you could feel you pussy starting to leak, your hole embracing her now. Your body was betraying your mind. “S-shit!” You whimper quietly against your best efforts, but you know she caught it.

She sits back up and you could see the thought cross her mind before she acted on it, her hand reaching down to shove two fingers into your mouth, caressing your tongue with a perverted smirk. "Good girl.... keep those pretty lips open for me, baby..” You could feel the spit sliding down your chin. You felt your pussy throb at her praise, moaning abrubtly at her words. Her thrusts had really been working into you now, nudging your walls with a purpose. It felt good.

That one moan went straight to Vi's core, hearing you sent a shiver down her spine, her pace quickening slightly. She pulled your hips up, into you at new angle, watching in awe as you fell apart. “Hah—hah—” You didn’t even try to stay quiet anymore, her dick hitting your g-spot deliciously. "Yeah.... just like that, baby. Let it out for me.” She stuck two fingers back into your mouth, “Get ‘em nice and wet, babydoll,” Vi groaned lowly as she watched you flick your tongue over her fingers, moving them down to your clit again to rub you. “Feels s’good right, baby? My baby just needed someone to push her past her limits, huh?”

You replied with a string of moans, your feet flailing aimlessly at her thrusts. “Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” She notices it before you do; the bulge sticking out of your pelvis everytime she bottoms out. “Ohhhhh, fuck me. Look at that, baby.” Her voice pulls you out of your trance, lulling your head up to look at what she was referring to. “Oh my God—” You choke up as she lifts a hand to press on it, “Bet that feels fuckin’ amazing, huh? Getting your guts dug in?”

You can hardly form a sentence, arching your back into the matress; she’s fucking you so good. “Yesss— fuck! S’good!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She fucks you at a vigorous speed, beating into your g-spot with every thrust. “Cmon, sweetness. I wanna see your cum face.” She spits on your pussy again, taking her fingers and rubbing your clit, fast. “Cmon baby, let go f’me.”

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Yandere who feels so guilty for jerking off to you in the shower. Yandere who's a pitiful mess as he strokes his cock and imagines all the ways he'd fuck you, make you gag and choke and whimper, pictures how tight you'd be while arching your back and blubbering nonsense as he makes you cum. The cold water from the shower doesn't help, he can't stop thinking about your smell, your taste, how easy it was to get into your house in the first place, has to bite his knuckles when he cums so he doesn't wake you up with the noises that pass his lips, nearly knocking the soap and shampoo over as he hunches over out of breath

Being pathetic and hating that he's hard again and just wants to bury himself in your throat or deep inside of you while you cry out and can't escape. He's so fucked up, he KNOWS he is but he can't stop, it feels too good, feels to right, he feels like he's losing his mind!

-Mommabean

Best thing about complimenting girls for their outfits is they Always have a little fun fact to tell you about it. "It has pockets!" "It was on sale!" "I've had this old thing for years!" Thank u for this small detail from your world :)

— come a little closer

hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]

synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.

content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.

fic soundtrack: i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi

author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, whose rare to come by these days.

Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.

In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.

Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.

Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.

You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.

She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.

The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.

And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.

The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.

With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.

She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.

“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”

You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.

The step creaks under pure muscle.

Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.

The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.

But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.

It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.

“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.

Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.

“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.

“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.

And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.

“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”

She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.

You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.

“________,” you offer.

She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.

“And you go to school here?” she asks.

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.

“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”

Vi’s floored.

“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.

“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”

“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”

You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.

“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”

“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.

And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.

Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.

“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.

No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.

The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.

You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.

“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.

“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”

“So?”

“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”

Her teammate snorts.

“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”

The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.

Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.

From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.

“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”

Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.

“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.

“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.

“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”

And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.

Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.

You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.

“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.

Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.

The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.

“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.

“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”

“I am.”

“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.

Vi could melt.

“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”

“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.

Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.

“You’re fucking joking!”

The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Maddie,” you whisper.

“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.

“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”

“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”

You look around in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”

“What else would she— are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”

It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”

You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.

Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.

If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.

Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.

“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.

“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”

Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.

Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.

“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.

Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.

“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.

It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.

You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.

“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.

“Huh?”

Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.

“Am I going too fast?”

“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”

You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.

Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.

You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.

You decide to fold your cards first.

“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”

No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”

You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.

“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”

She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.

“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”

And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.

But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you’re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.

You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.

Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.

You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.

A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.

When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.

Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.

The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.

“Violet.”

Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.

She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.

“V—”

“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”

“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”

Vi’s smile is crooked.

“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”

“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?

You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.

She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.

“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.

You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.

“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.

“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.

“Sure, anything.”

“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”

And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.

Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.

“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.

You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.

“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”

Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.

It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.

“Hungry?” you ask.

“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.

Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”

Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.

“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.

You shake your head.

“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.

It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.

“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”

Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.

“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”

“God, marry me now.”

She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.

“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.

“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”

Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.

“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”

You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.

“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.

“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.

You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.

“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”

And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You’re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.

That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”

“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.

“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.

You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.

If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.

“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”

Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.

You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.

“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.

But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.

Cute. So fucking cute.

You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.

“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”

You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.

“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”

And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.

“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.

You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.

“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”

“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”

She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.

“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”

You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.

“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.

“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”

It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.

Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.

“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.

“Vi,” you whimper.

And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.

She resists a smile.

“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”

You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.

Test the waters, cop a feel.

Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.

She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.

“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.

“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.

Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.

“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”

You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.

Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.

Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.

It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.

It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.

5—4.

The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.

She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.

You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.

They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.

Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.

The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.

“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.

Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.

“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.

Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.

So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.

She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.

“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.

“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.

She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.

“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”

You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.

“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”

She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.

Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.

“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.

When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.

You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.

She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.

“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.

It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.

You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.

You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.

“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.

“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”

“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.

She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.

“Leave it.”

Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.

The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.

She winks.

You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.

You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.

You should come, I can pick you up.

But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.

Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!

“Yeah?”

Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.

“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.

Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.

You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.

You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.

“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.

Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.

“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—

“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”

You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.

“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.

“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”

It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.

You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.

“You okay?” she hums.

Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.

You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.

When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.

You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.

You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.

Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.

As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.

You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.

“What do you like to do?” she asks you.

All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.

“Uh.”

Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.

But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.

Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.

“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”

“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”

And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”

It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.

She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.

She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.

It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.

“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.

She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.

And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.

“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”

Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.

You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.

“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.

“Can I?” she husks.

You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.

Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.

Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.

You’re staring, hard.

Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.

She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.

You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.

“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”

Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”

She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”

Your heartbeat skips.

“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.

Vi’s grinning wide.

“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”

And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.

It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.

“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”

“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.

“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”

“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”

“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”

“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.

“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.

“I admit it was a little strange, but—”

“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”

And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.

You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”

And you’re running.

Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.

She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.

sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.

I’ll see you next week.

But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.

She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.

She sighs. Hard.

You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.

It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.

violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3

You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

.

.

.

Then you add, We can smoke.

Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.

You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.

Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.

She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.

“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.

It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.

You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.

Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.

“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.

“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.

“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.

Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.

This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.

“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”

“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.

“Like?”

“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”

You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.

“Uh-huh?”

“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”

You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.

Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.

You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.

“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”

You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.

“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”

And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.

Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.

“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”

She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.

“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”

I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—

“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”

Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”

One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.

“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”

Oh.

Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.

“But?”

The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.

“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”

“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”

“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”

Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.

“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”

And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.

“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”

“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”

Your breath catches.

“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.

“Why?”

“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”

“You really believe that?”

“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”

Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.

“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”

And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.

“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.

You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.

“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”

It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.

“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.

Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.

You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.

sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.

She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.

Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.

And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.

It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.

“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.

“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.

“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.

Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.

“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”

You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

sev.94 has requested to follow you! sev.94 has sent you a message request!

Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.

sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this. sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is sev.94 sent a video. sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.

You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.

You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.

She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.

“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.

“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”

Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.

It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.

This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.

You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.

And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.

You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.

xxxx: i really miss you.

You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.

You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.

“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”

You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.

“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”

Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.

“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”

You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.

“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.

The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.

You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.

The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.

Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.

“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”

You humph.

“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”

“And that’s my problem because...?”

“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”

“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”

“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”

You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”

Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.

“Violet’s in love with you.”

And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.

“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.

“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she’s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”

“There’s a video.”

Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.

Her reaches a palm out.

Show me.

You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.

She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.

Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.

She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.

“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”

The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.

Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.

It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.

And there, front and center of the student section is you.

Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.

At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.

“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”

Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.

“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.

And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.

7—5.

The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.

She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.

Her bracelet.

You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.

Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.

Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.

“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.

“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.

Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”

Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.

She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.

“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.

“Hi,” you squeak.

A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.

And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.

“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”

You swallow.

“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”

You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.

“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.

“I know.”

She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.

“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”

Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.

“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”

“I don’t,” you admit.

Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.

“We could start off with the obvious.”

One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.

“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”

You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.

“Vi.”

“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.

She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.

“Pl—ease.”

“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”

“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.

The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.

Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”

“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”

“Oh–”

One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.

You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.

Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.

“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.

Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.

“Fuck.”

“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.

And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”

“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.

“Vi.”

Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”

You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.

And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.

She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.

“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.

You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.

She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.

You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.

“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”

Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.

“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.

“Nnngh, fuck!”

“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”

“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”

She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.

“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.

And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.

Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”

You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”

“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”

She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.

The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.

It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.

Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.

“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”

She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.

You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.

You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.

“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.

“I know, I know.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.

You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.

You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.

But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.

The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.

You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.

You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.

She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”

You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.

“Thought you left,” you croak.

Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.

“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”

You whine.

“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”

Violet groans.

“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.

“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.

“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.

Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.

She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.

And frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

neng © 2024

#are you leaving? are you leaving me?

—how would they react if you stormed off after an argument (for the first time) and they thought you were leaving them for good? 

CHARACTERS. Aether, Albedo, Ayato, Childe, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli; gn! Raader

THEMES. Angst; Hurt (no or with) comfort; can be reversed comfort too; has varying intensities so there are others that has fluff/crack (im looking at you heizou and kazu)

WARNINGS. may emphasize venti’s drinking on his part 

NOTES. I was supposed to post another one but I really can’t stand not answering this request so good luck with two consecutive angst everyone~ I’ll post the other one next week! 

ZHONGLI would look rather calm, no matter how big the argument was. He normally would not let the argument go further, but today was rather stressful, even for someone like him. With all the arguments at work and also to those who would ask for his help even when he was just on his way home, and now, everything piled up and he… maybe he needed a bit of rest. 

“Let us discuss this tomorrow, beloved, I-”

However, all he heard was the sound of the doors closing, and there was no sight of you in the room.  

He sighs heavily, thinking that you probably had only gone out of the room to calm down. Of course, he only realized he was the only one in the house when he woke up and there’s still not a sight of you beside him. Startled, he stood up and found himself scavenging the entire house—could you have left him?—this thought was all in his mind but as soon as he turned to the living room, there you were, sleeping so peacefully on the couch. He heaves out a sigh immediately, kneeling in front of you, taking your hands to his and bringing them to his lips. He had never in this life felt so anxious—it had been awhile, he thinks, but maybe this was more…-

“Zhongli?” He heard you call for his name by then, but before you could fully comprehend what was happening, he was hushing at you, whispering so slowly to not awaken you any further. 

“There’s no need to wake, my love.” It’s going to be alright. 

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

XIAO and you had been arguing for the whole week. Actually, he only showed up today after being gone for three straight days. Three! And now he expects you to pretend that everything is okay? 

Keep reading

Congrats on reaching 500 followers!!! I always like reading your works and they always make my day :DD

If I can still req, I'll just submit prompts and you can choose anyone you likee :> Like go wild with it :D

SFW: "We had a fight. It didn't mean I stopped caring." with a shy, gn s/o

NSFW: "Can my sweet baby eat Mommy's pussy, please?"

Yeahhh CONGRATULATIONSSS💃💃

I Still Care

Thoma x Shy!GN!Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: You and Thoma had an argument, it was hard to imagine, such a shy blob like you and a perfect guy like him, maybe it was about how he thinks you're too clingy because he was the only one who had actually befriended you, heck, he even started dating you. Either way, when you passed out and was brought to the hospital, you didn't even bother to call for him, did you think... that he stopped caring about you?

Prompt: "We had a fight. It didn't mean I stop caring."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

It was 2:11 am...

Ayaka, your only other friend, had walked into your hospital room, running to you immediately and wrapping her arms around you. "Oh, Y/N! Are you okay? I came as soon as I got your message." She had a worried voice as she hugs you, rubbing your back soothingly.

"I'm okay..." Your voice was a bit hoarse from staying up all night. "Just got a bit dizzy and fell over at the grocery store, but ok feeling better." The blue-haired girl pulled away from you, sitting beside your bed and looking at you in worry.

"I swear... I'm fine, in fact, Thoma doesn't even need to be here. I can be discharged and go home by--"

"Actually," Ayaka had cut your words off. "...I already called him. I couldn't just not tell him, I think he deserves to know that you're hospitalized." She gently grabbed your hand before playing with it.

"It wouldn't be fair for him to not know..." The girl beside you bit her lip, her gaze was apologetic.

You laughed a little to ease the tension. "You make it sound worse than it actually is."

You slumped on down onto the headrest, sighing heavily. "Maybe you can call him and tell him to not worry about coming here?" You almost sounded like you were begging.

"My world doesn't revolve around you! I can't always be there for all the insignificant things you do!" Thoma was yelling at you, you just suggested that maybe he should take a break from working all the time to hang out with you just a bit more.

"... I was just hoping that we could at least spend this day together?" You had tears in your eyes, but you held them in, it was just a bad day for him, he doesn't actually mean that he doesn't like spending time with you, that's what you tell yourself.

"Y/N, I'm home every night! But that's not enough for you, huh?" He forcefully shut his laptop, the sound it makes made you shudder.

Standing up from your shared bed, "You know what, I am so so tired. And an argument won't help me in anyway at all." Thoma was too blinded by frustration to see your glossy eyes and your hurt expression. He just walks passed you, "I'll sleep in the guest room tonight." He walked out of your room, leaving you there standing, desperately holding yourself together.

"Did you two... fought?" Ayaka was worried that it wasn't her place to ask, but she hates seeing her two best friends not seeing eye-to-eye.

You just wanted to get the argument, which was more so him yelling rather than an actual argument really, out of your head. But it was all you could ever think about.

"We're fine... It was just a petty fight."

Thoma walked through the door, walking up to you immediately. "What happened?!" He seemed more mad than he was worried, somehow, that pricks your heart a little.

Ayaka stepped back, giving room for Thoma to reach you.

"It's fine, I think it was just because I'm dehydrated." You told him, looking down on your hands as you feel his disapproving gaze on you.

"Your foot is in a cast. That's not because of dehydration." You looked at your bandaged foot, wiggling your toes.

"It's just a binding, not a cast."

"The nurse said that your foot might be sprained." Thoma sat down on where Ayaka previously was. The blond man looked at the girl behind him, and she immediately caught on.

"Maybe I'll just get some coffee, it's been a long night for you both."

A few minutes after Ayaka left, he spoke again. "You didn't call me." He stated coldly, but his voice seem pained. "So many things have happened, you got hurt, sent to the E.R, stayed here for five hours and nobody ever called me." His eyes were fixed on nothing but you, looking at you questioningly.

"Like I'm not your fucking boyfriend." You winced when Thoma cursed, he didn't do that a lot, now you know he's really mad. "We had a fight, Y/N. We ignored each other for days." You finally suck up the courage to look at him, but it was a mistake, the moment you looked at his watery eyes, you felt like you were about to break down. "But those few days, our argument... It didn't mean I stopped caring."

He sat up, gently putting his hands on your shoulder. "I really hope you know that. I hope you know that even if we have misunderstandings, I won't ever stop caring about you." It sounded like his voice was about to break.

"It's insignificant..."

"What?" Thoma's expression turned confused.

"Y-You said that you can't always be there for all the insignificant stuff. This is---" He slammed his hand onto the the bedside table, making you jump.

"Your safety isn't insignificant, Y/N. I... You know I didn't mean it like that!" You didn't like it when he yelled, you were always too shy, too quiet to ever pipe back. His hands fell on his face once an uncontrollable sob escapes your mouth.

You just melted back onto the bed, ready for his lecturing again. Seeing your figure job just look so tired and lonesome made Thoma bite back what he was about to say.

Ayaka walks back in, a tray of coffee cups in her hands. "I found a coffee shop! I've been walking around the cafeteria for twenty minutes, I just couldn't find it at first." She immediately shuts her mouth when she walked in, obviously sensing the awkward tension in the room. "I'll give you a few more minutes to talk." She closed the door immediately after that.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

After getting you on a wheelchair, drinking some coffee, and say goodbye to Ayaka after reassuring her five million times that you'll be okay, you were now in Thoma's car, ready to head home.

As he drove, the car was dead silent, your head resting on the wall beside you, whilst looking outside.

"Thoma! I never meant that you should only think about me. I just want us to be together more often." You reasoned with him, yet his face remained cold.

"Yeah, well thanks to you calling for me to go home, all my work is moved till next week. So I'll have to work my ass off for then." Your lover had laughed mockingly, clapping his hands at you. "So congratulations, Y/N! You got what you want, I'm home for the rest of the week and I'll be dying the next."

Your breathing starts to become heavy. "I-I didn't know! I'm sorry, okay. But can you please just listen to me."

"No! You listen to me. I am so sick and tired of your bullshit. Can you please just stop being so annoyingly clingy?!"

"I'm sorry." His ears perked up as he heard you words.

You feel your eyes beginning to water. "I'm sorry for being so clingy.... I'm s-sorry for making your work even harder." You start to stutter and your voice started to break. Your breathing was heavy once again.

"I just r-really love you, you're the first p-person to ever shower me with so much love." You were still looking outside the passenger window, your vision blurry from unshed tears. "I'm sorry you have to be with s-someone like me."

"I'm sorry that I make your life h-harder, that I always m-make a mess out of everything." Your throat desperately wanted to let out a few sobs, but you held on, you didn't want to look even more pathetic in front of him.

"I promise that... I'll never force you to h-hang out with me again. And I'll never be clingy, and I'll let you do w-whatever you want. And I won't ever c-complain again." Tears started to run down your face. You were scared, scared that how you acted before would drive him away, you were scared that the person you loved the most in this world would leave you.

Thoma parked the car in your garage, not having said anything throughout the whole ride. That scared you even more. Your body just felt so tired from the crying and frustration. He got out of the car, jogging to your side to carry you home.

As you were in his arms, you gently caressed his cheek. "I'm sorry, T-Thoma. I just really love you." That's what you said before you fell unconscious.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Thoma couldn't stop his tears from falling, he was sat beside your sleeping form, your foot properly elevated to prevent any pain. He had your hand in his, kissing it again and again.

"Y/N... I'm sorry too, I... I didn't mean to hurt you." He whispered into the air, knowing full well that you couldn't hear him, yet he continues anyway. "I love being with you, I love it when you're clingy, I love hanging out with you, I love being with you." Thoma planted a soft kiss on your forehead. "I love you too..."

"Please, Y/N... don't ever promise me to stop being who you are..."

The next morning, everything was completely different, you woke up to the smell of a delicious aroma, you sat up, being careful with your foot.

The next minute, Thoma had entered your shared room, a tray with a plate of syrup covered pancakes and a glass of milkshake in his hands.

"Oh, you're awake. I made you breakfast... well, for lunch" He walked closer to you, sitting down and placing the tray on your lap after taking the milkshake so it doesn't spill. You're surprised, he's still there, he usually goes to work very early, and looking at the clock, it was 12:16 pm.

"You're... still here?" You had asked him, confused. He just chuckled at your question.

"Who else would take care of you?"

Last night, you did think about him leaving you all alone in the house with a sprained foot. If that happened, you would have just called Ayaka for help, she did say last night that if you ever need her, she'll be there.

For the entire day, Thoma had been with you, catering to your every need, even things you don't need. You know what all of that was about, but confronting him would just make you so tired all over again.

It was bed time, you were both in bed with only the moonlight giving light to the room.

"Y/N...?" Thoma was on his side, looking at your face.

You just hummed as a response, looking back at him.

"I love you..." You smiled as he said that, not even sure that he can see the curve of your lips.

You slowly inched closer to him, giving his lips a quick kiss. "I love you too."

"I don't want you to keep those promises." He stated, his hand holding onto yours yet again. You knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Are you sure...? I just don't want us to fight again..." You say, unsure of yourself.

"Y/N, I don't want you to ever feel like our relationship is some sort of prison, you have just as much say in this as I do."

"Is it okay to be clingy now?"

Thoma laughed slightly, "Of course, love." His body inches closer to you, carefully pulling you to his chest.

"Good, 'cause I was really missing your hugs." Your head nuzzled his chest.

"I'm pretty sure you'll be sick of them in a few days."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

So this is the prompt I chose and Thoma is the character I chose! I really hope you like it! And I'm really glad that my stories can make your day, you're so sweet.

As for the NSFW prompt you chose, I'll see what I can do, but I'll probably focus more on other requests too. Thank you!!!

likes you ! ━ gojo ft. his cat.

summary︙gojos cat is obsessed with you .

pairing︙gojo x fem! reader .

warnings︙nun.

“shh,” gojo shushed his cat as he walked into his apartment. daisy, his cat, is meowing like crazy. he didn’t understand the cat much. she never really liked him but you… she adored. every time you were about to come over she would sit at the door and meow like she knew you were coming.

he had just gotten back from a late night store trip to get you some snacks. and gojo made his way up the stairs but daisy beat him to it. once making her way upstairs, gojo followed shortly behind without skipping two steps at a time like the cat. gojo finds her sitting at his bedroom door, meowing as normal. “do you smell her or something?” gojo questions the cat but only gets a meow in return.

he rolls his eyes and opens the door for the cat to immediately run in and jump in his bed. and to no surprise you were sound asleep when he walked in, just the way he left you, but less pouty because he was leaving. he smiles at the mere memory that wasn’t even two hours ago: your bottom lip poking out as you held onto gojos body for dear life— at least that’s how it felt. even though he promised to be back as quick as possible you still insisted on him not going. but after a couple bad jokes and kisses you let go. 

he sets the things down his bedside table and looks over to see daisy pushing her head into your face while purring. gojo could tell by the way your eyes flicked she was waking you. “damn, c—” gojo went to pick her up but your hand going to pet daisy stops him. “hi,” you spoke in a whisper, eyes threatened to close. you look up at gojo and smile.

“she’s practically married to you at this point,” he rolls his eyes playfully with a grin. “you didn’t hear? the honeymoon was yesterday,” you smiled as gojo joined you in bed. you even had his humor. god, did he love you. gojo let out a chuckle, “damn, cat. took my girl, huh?” daisy buried her face more into your neck. you laughed and pet her softly.

“missed ya,” you pouted. gojo could only grin and lean in to kiss you, but when he feels fur he pulls away. he sees daisy pushing her head onto your cheeks and lips. daisy seemed to push her face into yours at the perfect time. you only laugh at the cat while gojo rolls his eyes and pout. damn, cat.

 gojosprettyslut 2022.

—and they were roommates

part 2

masterlist

hockey!ellie x hockey!vi x hockey!abby x figureskater! reader

college au! fluff & angst (?)

synopsis: you were just trying to find a new roommate. how bad could it be if you lived with the university’s most popular hockey trio notorious for breaking score boards and breaking beds (n backs) too?

warning: they’re all fucking bimbos and simps. reader ur so pretty u make them so dumb🗣️. caitlyn slander but i promise i love her so fucking much im sorry to my best girl. !!!!!!mentions of reader and harassment!!!! dumbassery. thats all. this is half edited

a/n: this lowk was rushed im sorryyyy my babies but enjoy nonetheless <3

———

Abby didn’t know what she was expecting when she opened the door. After Vi’s declaration of your arrival (and the pathetic scream that followed of how pretty you are), she rushed downstairs while pulling her shirt over her bare upper body and pulling her hair back in a quick bun.

[a/n: hey author popping up in her rlly fast to say that idgaf. they like to be shirtless. (#selfindulgent)]

Vi thought being a woman was enough to be pretty in her book, so Abby just brushed it off and carried on. She thought you were gonna be some other female hockey player with a big ego and the usual nonchalant attitude. (how misogynistic)

Click. She unlocked the door.

You can’t be anything special, right?

Swing. She opened the door.

“Hey, you must be— whoa.” The blonde was immediately slapped with your scent. It was intoxicating in the way where you made her mind blank for a second. She couldn’t think of anything else besides the fact that you smelled so sweet, like a cupcake. She didn’t even have time to register how stupid she looked, because holy fuck, Vi wasn’t lying. Abby’s mouth hung slightly open as she took you in, her breath caught at her throat. She saw how your soft hair fell perfectly down your upper body, how your pools of liquid warmth-eyes met her gaze, how your toned body covered with your leggings and tight jacket hugged your body so nicely she could have ogled at you for so much longer if you didn’t speak up—

“Uh, Hi, Abby right? I emailed you yesterday about the roommate inquiry?”

Abby’s throat was dry. Your voice was—Jesus.

“Oh. Yeah— yeah! I’m uh— I’m sorry for making you wait. come in, come in.” She moved to the side and gestured you to enter. She can’t lie, she did have a slight peek at your ass while you walked in. Lethal face card, mesmerizing voice, add amazing fucking ass to the list. (She mentally thanked her eyes for flickering down there but also mentally punched herself in the face for being no better than a man.) Abby took a sharp breath in. Lord, this was not gonna be easy…

As you walked into the gorgeous house, Vi descended from the stairs. She was toothbrush-less this time, and somehow had less clothes on. She was in a sports bra and (Abby’s) low rise grey sweats. Her muscular biceps and ripped abs were hard not to look at, not to mention that delicious v-line that was barely covered from the band of her Calvin Klien boxers—

“Hey. Sorry for leavin’ ya out there sweets.” She smirked and leaned against the wall, looking at you up and down. “Had to spit out the toothpaste.” she added with a wink. This earned Vi a scowl and a mouthed “Quit it asshole” from Abby.

“Have a seat.” Abby politely said from behind you and smiled, and pointed to the couch. As you turn to walk to the living room, Abby smacked Vi right at the back of her neck and whispered a firm and fast “Behave you fuckin’ dog.” Vi, like a dog, sulked with her puppy eyes on full display. The duo made their way to the other couch, sitting stiffly.

Abby clears her throat to break the silence. “Our other roommate has a class right now, so she’ll be coming a little later.” She smiles, and tried not to let her eyes travel down to how perfect your tits sat under your jacket.

Vi, on the other hand, grew more confident since the toothbrush incident. God, she could not rip her eyes off of you even if she tried. You sat so politely on their couch, your pretty legs crossed over one another and posture so straight she would’ve mistaken you as royalty. Normally, when she sees a pretty girl, she’s fast to flirt. Her on and off toxic ex, Caitlyn Kiramman [a/n: i fucking love caitlyn im sorry ok] which happens to be one of the most sought after girls in school, was pretty to Vi. She was easy to flirt with, easy to tease, easy to fuck. You, on the other hand, made her feel different. You were making her dizzy. The moment she say your pretty fucking face standing out their door, she knew it was over for her from the way you smiled so nicely. You weren’t just pretty to Vi, you were more.

If the feeling of butterflies was a person, it’d look like you.

———

Okay…so they’re both hot…so what?

You thought as you collected your thoughts to speak up. Cmon, if you could make your professors gawk at your public speaking skills and befriend angry cashier Dan, you could talk to these hockey players. These…greek god sculpted…chiseled to perfection…hymn worthy…hockey…players…

You cleared your throat.

“Oh no worries, I understand how demanding class could be. Your place, it’s so nice n cozy.” You laughed off the information Abby gave you about their late roommate and your eyes looked around their humble abode. It was indeed cozy, and much cleaner than you anticipated. It was a two story house with modern kitchen interior and a gorgeous ginormous marble island that you would kill to bake and cook on. Overlooking the kitchen island was their living room with a cloud-like couch that sunk when you sat your ass down on the cushions. The large 77’ inch TV was sleek against the wall with a hockey game on. Then your remembered…

Shit. Hockey. Something you don’t fucking play.

“So, you’re a hockey player?” asked the one with pink hair.

Did this pink protein pack sex god just read my mind?

“Uh— well—“ you struggled. “No. And— before you reject me already— I can explain.”

The two chuckled softly at your words, finding it charming the way you stuttered.

“Go on sweets, we’re listening.” The pink haired one said again, relaxing a little on the couch and tilting her head. You don’t know if you hated that nickname or loved it, but it definitely had you shifting in your seat. “Oh, and I’m Vi by the way.” she smiles.

“Yes, (name) go on, we won’t stop you from elaborating.” Abby, the one you emailed, smiled politely and listened attentively. She reminded you of a bear, a big cuddly bear with huge biceps and incredible hands. She leaned back on the couch whilst smiling at you ever so slightly, almost like she was admiring a flower in full bloom.

“Yeah, alright thank you.” you nodded and took a breath.

“I’m a figure skater for the school, and we use the same locker room and rink. I saw flyer and I thought I’d give it a try— but I totally understand if you want to venture other opti—“

Of course, you were cut off when the door was slammed open. Jesus, they maybe hot but they could use some damn etiquette classes.

“YO, WHOSE SEXY ASS CAR IS OUTSIDE— oh—holy fuck.”

You were interrupted mid-sentence when a cute (and equally hot— you were praying to get the ick at this point because you couldn’t fathom how they all were so attractive) brunette girl entered. You turned around to see her walking in with bags of Taco Bell and three (extremely large) Baja Blasts in a carrier. She met your gaze, and she practically turned into a tomato.

An awkward 5 second pause made the air in the room thick before a voice broke through it.

“Uh— Ellie! This is (name), we were just starting to talk about the details of her potential move-in here” Abby said, forcing a smile and shifting in her seat. She looked at Ellie with a smile, but her eyes screamed “sit the fuck down you’re embarrassing yourself”

Ellie? Oh- Ellie! you thought.

“Ellie huh? You must know Dina then?” You perked up, your eyes shining at the mention of your best friend.

Ellie gulped. She was a deer stuck in headlights,

but more so a deer that was stuck looking the fucking illuminating angel that was sat on their couch.

———

Between her and her best friends, Ellie had always been the least upfront and straightforward of the three.

Don’t underestimate her though, she pulls extremely hard. Girls are always thirsting in her instagram dms after she posts a picture of her flexing her tattooed arm after a pump at the gym, but always did it without having to try. She was, what Vi and Abby call her, a loser lesbian. In this case, she was living up to the name as well.

“Yeah— I know Dina.” It took her a second to respond to your question, she was busy looking (fawning over) your pretty fucking face. Perfect eyes, cute nose, pretty hair, and lips of an angel. You were so, so fucking pretty.

“That’s great! She said you were really cool, it’s good to put a face to the name.” you smile at Ellie and she felt the lub-dub of her chest fasten.

“Yeah…it’s good to put a face to you too. A very pretty one for that matter.” she smiled softly while heading to the couch. She put the Taco Bell and drinks on the coffee table.

“Oh— (name), help yourself.” Ellie added.

You looked at the Taco Bell, and politely declined. “S’ okay, thank you though.”

“Alright, so sorry for the informality of this all” Abby cut in between, sitting slightly forward as she was squished between Ellie and Vi. You had the one couch fully to yourself, while dumb, dumber, and dumbest were compacted like sardines into the other.

“I— don’t apologize I understand— hey do one of yall want to sit on this couch by the way, you guys are packed on one, and it is yall’s couch. I promise I don’t bite.” You laugh softly, pointing at the big empty spaces next to you.

The three idiots looked at each other with the most brainless looks on their faces, and all stood up to move.

“Oh I thought—“

“Wait were you—“

“Who’s gonna—“

They all spoke at the same time, looking at you, then at the other the couch, and then at each other.

“I can sit next—“

“No you should stay—“

“Guys just sit—“

You cleared your throat to hide the laugh that was bubbling in your throat. Your hand flies to your mouth to hide the smile that was creeping up on your face. They looked like lost puppies, cute. They all looked at you when you cleared your throat, their faces glowing pink with embarrassment. Finally, Abby sat on the same couch as you— on the complete opposite end. She spoke up:

“Okay, let’s get started”

———

You don’t know how you got here…

A measly three hours later of Abby, Ellie, and Vi barely asking you questions and instead cracking jokes, you were munching on the Taco Bell nacho cheese fries that Ellie brought back.

“I’m convinced Professor Viktor and Coach Talis are fucking!” Vi said, throwing her arms up while earning a laugh from Ellie and Abby.

You, on the other hand, had your brows raised in amusement and ears perked up due to the new information. “Coach Talis? As in hockey team Coach Talis?” You laughed while covering your mouth that’s still half full of fries.

“Yes! Yes Coach Talis!” Ellie laughed back, nodding her head.

“No shut the fuck up, I swear he always flirts with Coach Medarda during the rink-switch between the figure skaters and hockey players!” You said, trying hard not to laugh as you dropped the bomb on them. “I swear one time I overheard him say a cheesy fucking pickup line like ‘are you the ice?, because you’ve got me slipping into your heart’ and Medarda looked so over it she said she was a desert.”

“Oh? So he swings both ways?” Abby said, wiggling her eyebrows and biting her finger “how cheeky”

You barked out a laugh, one where you genuinely felt like your stomach was gonna concave in itself if you didn’t stop. “Oh my god— I haven’t laughed like that in so long- whew.” you said wiping your eyes from the tears forming. You felt warm. You felt welcomed. To your surprise, the trio was so much more than you expected. The measly three hours started with you four being stiff and awkward toward each other, but once Ellie cracked a joke about some stupid fucking niche thing, the four of you started to snowball into different topics. From these measly three hours, you laughed until were hungry, laughed until you ate their Taco Bell, laughed until you were clutching your stomach and wiping tears in your eyes, laughed until the three hockey placers felt a warm feeling in their chest despite the thick snow outside.

“Holy crap— I’ve been here for so long” you pointed out as you looked at the clock and the window outside. It was dark already even if it was only 5, the wintertimes in Jackson always promised a dark atmosphere early on in the day.

“Oh— oh right. Yes right so roommate inquiry— We’ll reach out in a few days? Up until we decide?” Abby said, sipping on the half empty Baja Blast.

“Yes! Yes of course— uh— do you guys want my number or is the email just fine—“

“NUMEBR! I mean…number yeah…so it’s easier to contact you” Vi said, a little too fast. Ellie whispered a sarcastic ‘good one’ to her while laughing softly.

You smiled at them, and pulled out your phone so each of them could put their numbers in.

“Cute wallpaper, by the way.” Ellie said, handing the phone as she was the last one to have the phone. You mentally slapped yourself. The wallpaper was of you, Dina and your pet, Dog, looking slightly stupid in matching costumes from this Halloween. Dog was a celery. You were a carrot stick. Dina was a ranch. Why? Why not.

“You have a cat?” Ellie asked, and you nodded.

“Yes— his name is Dog— well okay technically he was supposed to be a dog, but you know buying a pet from CraigsList is never a good idea. He was supposed to be a Pomeranian, but I got handed a mini kitten instead. I decided that I loved him too much to get rid of him, so I named him…Dog…instead…” you shuffled, cringing at yourself because you must sound so, so stupid right now. Ellie bit back the stupidest fucking smile. You are so fucking cute. She could eat you out up on the spot. Right now.

“You named your cat…Dog?” Vi asked, amused and smirking. “That’s real charming, sweets.” She laughed put her hands in the pockets of her (Abby’s) sweats.

“Charming? S’ a little stupid honestly—“

“Oh no it isn’t. I had a turtle when I younger and named her Fish. If that’s any consolation.” Abby adds and she laughs.

“Phew, okay so I’m not alone in this boat. Oh, I hope it’s okay that I have a pet, I forgot to mention it since we all got…” You look at the coffee table with Taco Bell sauce packets and wrappers messily sprawled on it “…off topic.” you laugh, and so do they.

“I’ll help clean by the way—“

“No! No, we couldn’t ask you to do that sweets. S’ okay, you should get home before it gets too dark.” Vi waved you off with a smile.

“We’ll walk ya out.” Ellie added, gesturing to the front door.

You left their place feeling so different than you expected. They bid their farewell as you pull out of their driveway, the trio waving goodbye and screaming ‘DRIVE SAFE!’ as you get farther. A part of you couldn’t believe how well it went.

The other part of you wanted them to text you so bad; saying that they would love to have you as their new roommate.

———

“We are not having her as our other fucking roommate—“

“Ellie— what the fuck? Why?”

“Vi, use your damn head—“

“Okay guys let’s relax and think this through.”

After you left and the door to their house shut, hell broke loose. The trio had two opposing parties and an undecided one. The decision was gonna be so much harder than they anticipated. They argued while cleaning the mess in the coffee table, they argued while putting away the dishes, and they are still arguing. It’s been an hour.

“Vi, we are ALL clearly into her, how do you think having her as a roommate would be?” Ellie argued

“Ellie, come-fucking-on! It’s too early to make that decision! And so what if we’re all into her? (Name’s) a fucking adult and so are we! We can control ourselves!” Vi barked back, getting slightly irritated at her best friend’s immediate dismissal.

“All I’m saying is that— If she does move in, how the fuck’ll that affect how we act towards each other? How people act towards her? Listen, we’re not so known for being the most…modest…people. We’re fuckin’ notorious for sleeping around okay, and what’ll happen to (name’s) image if people find out she’s living with us! For all we know, people could hate her because of us! It’s happened before— you know it has. Your ex was subjected to the worst after people found out that you guys were a thing. The only difference there is that Caitlyn’s a fuckin’ bitch and moved on so fast! She could take the criticism!”

She paused, and took a deep breath. Her voice was now, much softer. “I’m not saying (name) cant, but come on, she was a fucking carrot stick for halloween. She has a kitten named Dog. She’s too—“ Ellie huffed out, and there was a pause. The air was thick.

“—Sweet?” Abby finished for her, smiling a sad smile when reminded of your presence. Sweet. Like a cupcake.

Ellie let out a breathless “yeah.” and shook her head.

Vi sighed, shaking her head. “Fuck. You have a point.” she said, massaging her temples.

They stay quiet for a second, letting the reality sink in. Ellie broke the silence.

“Abby, what do you think? You’re the most logical one with this typa shit, plus you pay the most— what do you want?” Ellie said while sighing. They moved to the kitchen now, Vi sitting on the island while Abby was preparing her meal prep on the stove. Ellie was sitting on the island stool, conflicted.

“You have a point. I mean, fuck, people are brutal. I don’t want her to face all that.” Abby said, turning off the stove and sighing.

“So…?”

“So I think we know our answer…” Abby hesitated to say.

“Damn. Fuck.” Vi cursed. “M’ not textin’ her. I don’t wanna break the news that we’re rejecting her.” She shook her head.

“I don’t want to either.” Ellie said, her fingers playing with her bracelet.

Abby scoffed and glared at the two. “You guys fuckin’ suck.” She let out a long sigh, and raked her fingers through her hair. She grabbed her phone from her back pocket, getting ready to text you, but was met with surprise instead.

You texted first..?

She was perplexed, and saw that you had just sent it a little over three minutes ago. She opened her messages:

2 new messages from (name)

(name): hey abby, sorry for the inconvenience i know i just left. they’re evacuating our dorm because this creepy guy found a way in and started harassing me n the girls here— it’s been a reoccurring problem for months. the police have him in custody rn tho. im in the er rn— nothing serious but the police js wanted to do an overall check for all the girls he encountered bc he was literally insane n on heavy drugs.

(name): im texting to ask if i can crash tonight? my brother and Dina are out of town for a weekend get- away n all my friends lived in the same dorm building n are all spread out now. sorry again, i can always book a hotel if u cant!! no worries :)

Oh, Abby was fuckin’ livid. You were harassed? You sweet, sweet girl? You?

If fumes could be seen seeping out of Abby’s ears, it’s beyond be palpable that Abby was beyond furious.

“What? Abby what happened?” Ellie was fast to ask, noticing her best friend’s shift in demeanor.

Abby didn’t respond to Ellie, but her fingers typed faster than she could think.

3 new messages from abby

abby: what the fuck? (name) are you okay? send me the address of the ER now, m’ coming to getcha.

abby: forget about booking a fuckin’ hotel ur staying here. we’d be happy to have u as a roommate, ur moving in as soon as possible, n never going back to that shitty dorm.

abby: hang tight sweet girl, im omw.

Abby didn’t register the nickname she called you, she didn’t give a fuck. It was true, you are such a sweet girl, so sweet that your scent was imprinted on her when you gave each of them a parting hug. No, she wasn’t gonna go on with the night knowing some fuckass creep put his hands on you.

“Abby, what the fuck is going on?” Vi lost her patience, standing from the kitchen counter. Ellie followed too, seeing as Abby was grabbing her keys and heading out.

Abby was ready to sh00t someone at this point. She let out an irritated sigh, and was throwing the pillows of the couch to find her hat, tucked under a pillow.

She found it, put it on, and quickly explained the situation.

“Fucking— (name’s) in the ER. A fucking creep somehow entered her dorm building and started harassing her and the girls there.” Abby said, rushing toward the garage door. Ellie and Vi stood there, frozen with anger.

“Well are yall fuckin’ coming?” Abby yelled.

Ellie and Vi scrabbled to their stuff, both gradually getting angrier and angrier as reality set in

Oh, they were coming alright. They were ready to declare war on whoever the fuck did this.

———

taglist (i couldn’t find some of yall im so sorry :( )

@lanadelreyluvr22 @h2pinky @yourcherrybaby666 @ellieslittleslutt @saturnhas82moons @aaaaslaaaan @danimp3 @alunevi @rdfgfv @popspeach07 @valenbodoque @mellohatesyou @ghgygd @seraphicsentences @auroraslibrary @haikyuunerd @lvlymicha @sevikas-whore @booistoleyou @femme-historian @jack-frost-2010 @bella-72-23 @dontcensor @auraclus @diana-rose-25 @abbyismywife @hiphip-horray @pia-veronique @brooks-lin @abbysleftbicepp @agabbsc @ilovemydinoboi @tlouloser

SAGAU - Beloved of Teyvat

1 | Next >

Unlike its foolish people, Teyvat would never—could never—fail to recognize its owner.

Its essence flowed through their very veins, and theirs through it, in an eternal cycle that could never be broken—not if the land, skies and seas had anything to say about it. It knew them. It carved itself for their joy. Nothing, nothing, could separate them. Never again.

The mortals could boast and brag as they please; Teyvat was the Divine One’s most devoted worshiper.

Getting hit by Truck-kun and being isekai’d into Teyvat had not been on your list of things to do today. Getting chased out of Mondstat by stone and sword, running and running through even the collapse of your lungs until you couldn’t hear the screams to find you and make you pay, definitely hadn’t been planned either.

And now you sat lost in the mountains, surrounded by trees. Had you run north or south? You couldn’t remember, memories lost in the haze of getawaygetawaygetaway that had driven you there.

You turned to get a better look at your surroundings. Mondstat below and Dragonspine beyond that, you had to be in the Stormbearer Mountains. Could you have picked a worse direction? If they found you again…

Oh god, they’d find you again.

They had to already know you’d boxed yourself in, the knights had already been mobilizing themselves, you’d already lost your chance to escape. The realization of your situation quickly dawned. Whatever crime they’d found you guilty of, nobody was willing to hear you out.

So, here you were, in pain, exhausted, and out of choices. But dammit, you were the one who guided the traveler through even the Spiral Abyss, you were the one who definitely didn’t run away from every enemy when you finally left Mondstat because you were scared, and you were the one who fought against those bullshit scaled domains for the whalers without a shield to guard you.

If there was anything you could do, it was bullshit strats.

And unlike your pursuers, you had game knowledge.

For example, you knew how to avoid the Anemo Hypostasis' attacks. Should push come to shove, you could avoid Beth’s attacks and direct its attention toward the Knights, then escape while they were distracted. If they were even willing to follow you that far to begin with. So you could probably lie low up there until they lost interest and sneak your way down to Liyue under the cover of night. Maybe Yanfei would be willing to—

“They’re here!”

Ah shit.

Next time, you told yourself as you broke into a run, you’d think on the go. Hopefully, you could get past the hypostasis before they could catch up. Or at least before they could land a hit.

You scrambled up ledges, bloodying your pants on sharp rocks, and didn’t dare to look behind at the rapidly encroaching footsteps.

“Freeze, imposter!”

Met with a ledge you couldn’t climb and a knight on either side, you turned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You were so close. “I swear I didn’t do anything!!”

Staring you down was Jean, the Dandelion Knight herself.

“You dare?” She stared you down with a fury you didn’t think her capable of. As if you’d personally slaughtered Barbara in front of her eyes. “Looking at me as you are, you dare claim innocence?!”

“I don’t understand,” you pleaded, desperate. “All I did was walk into the city, I didn’t even say anything!”

“You little!” Lisa spat from Jean’s side, calling on her vision. You flinched, hiding behind your arms as though they’d protect you, every part of you screaming for help.

The pain never came.

Instead, you yelped in fear as wind wrapped around your body, cradling you in its gentle caress.

“Jean?” a woman’s voice questioned, you couldn’t make out who over the wind in your ears.

“Acting Grand Master!” a knight cried not a moment after. “The- the hypostasis!”

You tipped your head back to see. Your eyes met with the vision of Beth looming over you, somehow seeming furious despite lacking any features to speak of. But the pure killer intent behind you couldn’t be mistaken even to someone as civilian as you.

Then, you were moving again, pulled over the hypostasis and toward its arena (why had it left its arena?), given a first-class seat to Beth’s ensuing battle with the knights. And a perfect view of the approaching horde of slimes and Hilichurls. You could even make out a few boars and squirrels among them.

A warning bubbled up in your throat, but soon died on the winds.

The knights fought valiantly, even when the first few monsters approached, even when the boars started charging their backlines, but after the first bird swooped down and knocked Lisa’s catalyst away (the catalyst you gave her, she tried to attack you, kill you, with the catalyst you gave her) Jean finally called a retreat.

The monsters didn’t make it easy, a few Whooperflowers even

And once the Knights were naught but a speck in the distance, the winds returned you to the ground, laying you softly in the center of the arena. The Anemo Hypostasis seemingly turned its attention to you, again reaching out with its wind. You cowered behind your arms once more, but the wind stayed as gentle as ever, soothing your aches and burns.

Blinking, you looked yourself over and found yourself rid of reddened marks and jagged cuts. It had healed you. Why would it do that?

Instead of anything that would give you an answer, Beth returned itself to its stasis above you.

A few minutes passed before you allowed yourself to crawl out from your position. It didn’t stir even as you stood by it.

Staring at it, you brought a hand to the nearest cube, running your fingers over its smooth surface. Something like contentment radiated through your fingers and it glowed… happily? Warmth radiated through you and you couldn’t help but smile in response.

It had really come to protect you, hadn’t it?

Apparently, there was more lore behind Beth, and maybe the other hypostases, than you thought, that they’d assist you in your moment of need. It probably did something to bring the other monsters as well.

You looked over your shoulder to where they had been and immediately stumbled back onto Beth as a Hilichurl’s cry rang out.

How… long had they been standing there?

Two Hilichurls stood before you. A short, stocky one with a bag of fruits and a taller, lankier one with a bowl of what looked like a stew of some sort. Both immediately thrust out their items in offering, looked at each other, then dropped to their knees and placed the food on the ground before you and backed up a few paces.

They were giving you food. Hilichurls were giving you food.

In your state of shock, you looked over your shoulder, idly recalling that Hilichurls disliked areas of high elemental energy. Why would they push past that to give you food?

Too exhausted to think, let alone run or fight, you dropped to sit on the ground and picked up the bowl. Hilichurlian food or not, these guys had saved your life.

So you dug the spoon in and took a bite of the (surprisingly tasty) stew.

[Quest Completed: Return]

[Quest Reward: User Interface Unlocked]

[Would you like to accept? Yes/No]

...what.

-----

@nicebonescomrade I ended up rewriting this because I liked the Hypostasis idea!

This is my first Genshin work (and my first work of writing in over a year rip) so I hope it's alright :) This concept has been on my mind for a while so here we goooo

ahh i'm so nervous posting this ; - ; pls be nice (but I always accept constructive criticism)

UNDONE.

≡ gojo satoru x f!reader

↳ all he wants is to please you, but when you take him up within your own hands — small and nimble wrapped around his length, a hopeful desire springs out of Gojo pushing him to want more as he imagines what it would be like to be the father of your children.

tw/cw: unedited. smut. explicit language. praise. blow job. satoru wanting to make a baby. cum eating. deep throating. gagging. unprotected sex. reader called: princess, angel, my girl, baby and referred to as a mom.

✉ : hmm hello (( : i didn’t get to edit it, so i hope you dont mind the mistakes and flaws (˵ˊᯅˋ˵) sigh but still hope you can enjoy !!

“I-is this okay?” You quietly muttered, unzipping his pants as you knelt in between his strong thighs while he sat on the edge of his bed, your hands grazing past his clothed bulge, his hardened flesh throbbing inside the constraint of his cotton briefs, nodding slightly as if it had a mind of its own.

Slightly flinching at your gentle touch, expectantly waiting with his brows furrowed, his pink lips peeking open, lips glistening with a light sheer of saliva as he lowly groaned whilst looking down at you. Giving you a breathy response, his exposed torso showcasing his toned chest as his stomach clenched tight, flexing his abs in prominent definition as his hips shamelessly bucked forward in desire for more of your touch,

“Mhm… more than okay baby,” Gojo whispered with a lingering chuckle. His crystal cerulean eyes blazed in lust, half lidded as he brushed his index fingers against the apples of your cheeks, softly traveling down your face to play with your soft lips, hesitantly pushing his thumb in, observing your every move, watching your every reaction with finite discretion as he awaited your next move.

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