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Vi X Reader - Blog Posts
just saw a vi x male reader nvm
my 2025 already goin great so don’t ever let me see a caitvi x male reader fic again 🙏🏾🙏🏾
ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕 acting like she not stuck with me for forever ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡
𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: vi's a bit emotionally immature but well-intentioned, slight mention of a past abusive relationship, implied smut at the end, a bit of fluff sprinkled in, very light fingering lmao, i like visualizing the fits of my characters so this was what the reader's wearing but like better, black! reader as always
𝔞/𝔫: finally smth that isn't only a paragraph long 😭, this was going to be smth kinktober related originally but i changed my mind halfway through, i probably WILL be participating in kinktober tho so stay tuned <3
(also reblogs are always welcome. like, always. forever)
“….vi? baby? please tell me what’s wrong. i don’t get why you’re so angry with me.”
for the first time in your two years of being together, she actually ignored you. you slumped in your seat, acrylics beginning to curl into the stretchy fabric of your skirt. unsure of what to do, you gently reached for her right hand, trying to interlock your pinkies (a tradition you guys had ever since your first date). the tip of your nail was barely able to graze the cool metal of her ring before she snatched her arm away, placing both hands back on the steering wheel. she looked agitated, but also lost in thought. sighing in defeat, you turned your head to look out the window, the stars and inky night sky serving as comfort as you toyed with one of your necklaces (vi’s favorite, she usually adored the way it dipped down to the valley in between your breasts, the stark silver standing out beautifully against your dark skin). “well i don’t know how you expect for us to work this shit out if you can’t even explain what the damn problem is, violet.” you were well aware that there was nothing she hated more than being called by her government name, but you had a point to make. and yet, still no response.
the night had started out peacefully enough. the two of you had been invited to a party that night that “what’s-her-name” was hosting (some girl from your psych class, but the don julio always fucked with your memory). you scanned your brain, trying to figure out what the problem was. it wasn’t your outfit (she already fucked you in it earlier, whispering endlessly about how beautiful you were as she shoved her ringed fingers into your cunt, dripping so much it almost stained your new fur boots). it’s not like y’all had any arguments before you left. she had a little bit to smoke, a little to drink, hell it looked like she was having the time of her fucking life as she gripped your hips and caught every ounce of ass you threw at her every time you felt like dancing. so yeah, you were hella lost. you took out your (sadly dying) cart, ghosting the last bit of what was left as you started scrolling on your phone. if she wants to be petty for no reason, then fine. that also happened to be your area of expertise.
it was the most awkward 15 minutes of your life.
“i just don’t know why you had to talk to her”. oh, so now she has something to say.
“i’m not sure if you noticed this, but we were at a lesbian bar, violet. there were a shit ton of “shes” and “hers” present.”
“and out of all of them you still choose to talk to your bum ass ex.”
oh. oh.
like you said earlier, the second even the slightest bit of liquor hits your system ….and suddenly you're not the most reliable of narrators. it’s one of your quirks.
“we literally had a 3 sentence conversation, babe. she said hi, i said hi, she asked how class was going, i said fine, and that was the end of it.” the brief encounter was so irrelevant to you that you didn’t even bother to answer her questions with enthusiasm. for context, the ex in question’s name was niyla, aka the biggest mistake you’ve ever made in your entire twenty-one years of life. you weren’t together very long, just 6 months your freshman year of college, but her toxicity and borderline emotional abuse took its toll on your mental state at the time. every attempt you made at trying to change her behavior failed, every apology that ever came from her mouth was half-assed and empty, and you ran for the hills the moment you could.
but granted, that was a really long time ago, and you were proud to say that you were 100% over her. besides, the queer community at your school was notoriously small, the sapphic side even more so. you accepted the fact that running into her would be inevitable a long time ago. you’ve seen her out and about since the breakup, but this was the first time you’ve actually spoken to her.
vi slightly softened, releasing her vice grip on the wheel and exhaling deeply. “i know, y/n. it’s just…”. she suddenly held your hand again, lightly stroking the pretty henna that decorated it as she tried to find the words. “i can’t stand the fact that she still thinks she has the right to talk to you.” it wasn’t everyday that vi was so…vulnerable. even though she had the utmost amount of trust and respect for you, really sitting down and discussing her thoughts and emotions wasn’t something that came easy to her. you kissed her hand and nuzzled it against your cheek, urging her to continue. “she treated you like absolute garbage…i just don’t want you to get swept up in all that bullshit again, you know?” you listened intensely, absorbing every single word as your heart began to swell with love.
she chuckled humorlessly, seemingly dismissing her thoughts. “but i guess i should’ve just started off with that rather than giving you the silent treatment. my therapist always talks about how i need to work on my ‘communication skills’. or ….something like that.” her eyes, deeply apologetic, glanced down at yours. “forgive me, cupcake?”
“mmm, maybe. on one condition”. truth is, you already forgave her the moment she explained herself, but god, seeing her all sincere and introspective did something to you. a mischievous smirk graced your features as you took the hand that was still caressing your cheek and began trailing it down your body. vi’s eyes widened as she felt the dampness of your thin lace panties, slick slowly starting to gush out as your face got hotter and hotter. “you have to make it up to me.”
My babymama’s y’all they just so breathtaking ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡
BOOMHAHAHAHAHAH
artist - @caitviolence on twt
That’s girlfriend yall (≧◡≦)
instagram thirst trap!vi's way of hard launching your relationship is done through a simple audio. she's never expressed being a relationship before, but her followers have speculated. especially when she starts to look happier than she used a year or so ago. so when she drops this audio with the caption "i love the way my baby sounds" everyone loses their damn minds.
the audio consists of a slight squelching noise, coupled with a few breathy whimpers. then those whimpers get a bit louder, wonderfully sweet. it's a moment before vi's voice appears, low and rough, as she murmurs, "so good for me, baby. yeah, that's it...so good, sweetness..."
"vi," your voice trembles out before you choke on a sob.
"sweet girl, ah fuck, so sweet and wet for me—"
and the audio finishes.
the comments are going wild, and the audio has been saved multiple times.
the next day, vi posts a picture of the two of you curled up in clearly messy sheets. your face is hidden in her neck, while she's got her own buried in your hair, happy and content.
the caption reads:
"mine."
٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- She can be topless and I can be bottomless ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜
vi totally walks around the house shirtless, only wearing a pair of boxers that hang long on her hips. it's immensely distracting, especially when you're trying to concentrate on something. your eyes are always darting to her breasts, eyeing the piercings on her nipples and the trail of hair that disappears past the waistband of her boxers.
usually, this ends with you getting too frustrated to concentrate so you leave whatever it is you're doing to slam her down onto the couch, kissing that infuriating smirk off her face.
YOUR VI JAIL FIC WAS SO GOOD AND THE HEADCANONS WERE SO SO ACCURATE. :'( IF POSSIBLE, CAN YOU MAKE A P2 TO HOW THEIR LIFE IS OUTSIDE OF PRISON WHEN THEY MAKE IT OUT? or an angst with caitlyn being blackmailed by the warden to only let one prisoner out? :3 said one being vi, and vi having to abandon reader?
Vi Fic: Bye Bye Bun
➼ Aaaah thank you so much! I'm so glad so many people liked the Stillwater headcanons^^ I was afraid my Vi was going to be soooo out of character. I decided to write some angst first >:) if this fic does well or I get another ask I'll also work on life after Stillwater, give you guys some fluff after this
➼ Continuation of Vi Headcanons: dating f!reader at Stillwater
➼ No beta we die like Claggor (I'm running out of people who die in the series-)
➼ Warnings: None! Bit of a longer fic for you guys today, enjoy!
GIF does not belong to me! All credits to the owner
The sound of knuckles meeting hard concrete echoed throughout the cell block, small grunts following close behind. "You know we don't get clean bandages for another two weeks Vi, your knuckles are going to get infected at this rate." you called out. Suddenly the pounding stopped and a small chuckle was heard. "Don't worry about me bun, just trying to blow off some steam," she said, pacing around her cell instead of beating up a wall. "You should really get some sleep. Long day tomorrow"
"No such thing as a short day here." you groaned. Carefully you laid down on the ground of the cell. Vi's was only a few doors down, close enough to talk just above a whisper but way too far away to see each other. Both of you always slept against the walls that faced each other. It was the closest thing to sleeping next to each other in this shithole. Aside from whenever you two napped during free time of course. Even then Vi stayed wide awake to ensure you were okay.
"Goodnight Vi, wake me up if anything happens, okay?" "I will Y/N, I promise"
That was nearly two hours ago. You were sound asleep by now, the cold, hard floor no longer keeping you up. It was something every prisoner in Stillwater had to get used to. Mattresses weren't provided. The few that did get a thin mat to sleep on at night only got one after a lot of medical visits and several notes stating they needed one for medical reasons. You and Vi weren't so lucky to have any notes. Still, there were worse things here. Like the food. That's why any food or snacks that were smuggled in were high value items. Currently you had a packet of chips hidden under a loose brick right where you slept. You scored them a few days ago and wanted to surprise Vi by sharing them tomorrow.
The elevator dinged as the doors opened, the clack of heels filling the halls. Caitlyn stopped in front of Vi's sell, her hood still up. "What the hell do you want?" Vi asked, glancing over at the taller woman. "Your help. You beat up an inmate, I needed to question him about a crime scene from yesterday. Why did you break his jaw?" "Because I wanted to." She responded with a small shrug, disinterested in whoever this enforcer was. "Why are you in here?" Caitlyn tried again, looking over the file in her hands. "For my sunny personality." Vi shot back immediately.
Caitlyn shook her head, sighing. "This was a waste of time." she closed the file and her journal, starting to walk off. Maybe she could find away around a broken jaw, pen and paper perhaps. "Couldn't have said it better myself. Give Silco a kiss for me on that winning eye of his." that was what caught the enforcer's attention. Turning around she walked back to Vi's cell, getting a bit closer to the bars. "Silco? The industrialist?" "Hardly what I'd call an industrialist." She scoffed, leaning against the bars. That's when the other woman held up something that caught her eye.
In Caitlyn's journal was a picture of a spray-painted monkey. Just like the ones Powder used to make. "Where did you get this?" Vi asked, desperation creeping into her voice. "My question first. The inmate worked for Silco?" "Everyone in here does. You of all people should know that. Now where did you find that?" "It was at the crime scene, this is evidence" Caitlyn responded. She had the upper hand here now. "If I'm to believe you about Silco, I'm going to need proof."
A way out. Vi could get both of you out of here. "I can provide you proof. Just, not from in here" she gestured to the bars around her. "And," she began to add on "I need another inmate. Inmate 381. I'm not leaving without her." Caitlyn seemed to consider this for a moment. Then she turn and left without a word. What that meant, Vi had no clue.
Caitlyn had ran off back to the warden, forging papers along the way for the release of two inmates. She needed Vi's help to track whoever this person was down, so if someone else had to come along, so be it. As she put the papers down on the warden's desk, he seemed to lazily look over them. "I have orders to release inmates 381 and 516." she spoke up. He hummed in thought before shaking his head. "I can only release one." "What? It says right there-" "I can read. But I'm only releasing one. Pick." "..inmate 516."
So when Caitlyn returned and opened Vi's cell, she immediately ran to your cell. Or at least tried to. The enforcer stopped her a few steps in. "The warden only let me release one of you. You understand that-" "No I don't! This wasn't part of the deal!" Vi went to grab the collar of Caitlyn's dress, the other wrapping her hands around Vi's wrists as she was pressed against the wall. "You will-" "If you try anything I will make sure you're put back behind bars and you never see that other inmate again." Cait rushed out. It wasn't what she wanted to resort to, threats, but it seemed to work.
Almost instantly Vi's grip loosened, slowly setting Caitlyn back down on the ground. Leaving you...
"Once we're done, you let her out. Immediately. No excuses, exceptions, or delays. And I get to say goodbye." Vi demanded. That was fair, anyone could agree to that. Thankfully Caitlyn began nodding, dusting her dress off. "Go ahead then. Afterwards we need to get going to the Undercity."
This was going to hurt.
Vi walked over to your cell, kneeling down at the bars. You were still all curled up, dead asleep. She gently knocked on the bars. "Bun..bun you gotta wake up." That was odd. Vi's voice sounded so close...as you opened up your eyes you saw your girlfriend just on the other side of the bars. There was no quicker way to wake up than seeing your lover free from her cell. "Vi! You escaped! How-" you were cut off by seeing Caitlyn standing behind Vi.
"Who is that?" "Y/N, I can explain." "Vi, who is that!" you were shouting now. You didn't even fully realize it. "She's the one that got me out-" "So now you're going to get me out?" you interrupted. Seeing the pain flash on Vi's face told you everything that you needed to know. "You're leaving me.." your voice was barely audible, but Vi caught every word. She could feel her heart shattering as she saw the tears form in your eyes. "It's only for a little bit. The warden wouldn't let us both out, once I'm done helping Caitlyn we're coming right back for you, I promise."
You wanted to believe her. Vi had never lied to you before, why would she start now? Maybe it was the fear of never seeing her again. Or maybe it had to do with the enforcer standing behind her. Caitlyn was beautiful, you had to admit, so what if...
"No, no this isn't right. Vi you can't leave me here!" you shouted, crawling up to the bars and reaching out to grab Vi's wrist. "Vi you can't leave me! Please don't leave me!" the tears finally began rolling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. Vi's own eyes were starting to gloss over with tears. "I'm coming back for you, Y/N. I swear on my life I'm not leaving you. It'll be a few days tops." "What does she," you nodded your head towards Caitlyn "even need help with, huh? What are you going to do for her?"
That cut deep. Vi tried not to take it to heart as she stood up, pressing one last kiss to the back of your hand. "I'm coming back for you." she repeated, steeling herself to actually leave. To not fall to her knees and tell Caitlyn to find someone else. This was your guy's chance of freedom. Even if this hurt you now, it was better in the long run. Everything would be better when you two could be together outside of Stillwater. "Bye bye, bun. I'll be back for you" and with that she turned around and started walking away. Vi knew if she turned around to look at you one last time, she'd never leave.
That's when the shouting started.
"Vi! Vi turn around right now! You can't leave me here!" you were standing up now, having an iron grip on the bars. Almost trying to bend them out of the way so you could run to Vi. Unfortunately you weren't that strong and the bars weren't that weak. "Violet don't leave me!"
Vi quickened her pace, rushing towards the elevator. Your voice was starting to blend with Powder's the day they were separated. It was all too much. She was going to find Powder and come back for you. Everything would be okay, everything would be right. As the elevator doors closed, she heard one last thing. Yours and Powder's voice were nearly indistinguishable from one another as you yelled out:
"TRAITOR!"
Vi Headcanons: dating f!reader at Stillwater
➼ Yes I am breaking my rule of no f!reader because I wanted to write for Vi so bad. So I'm gonna set a new precedent now: I'll write f!reader IF it is a wlw fic/headcanons/whatever. Though this is more of just a lil treat since the brainrot is rotting
➼ Might end up turning this into a full fic, if you want that let me know! (It did! Here's part two)
➼ No beta we die like Sky
➼ Warnings: None!
GIF does not belong to me! All credits to the owner
Whenever there is free time, Vi is at your side. You two usually find some corner away from the others to try and get away, pretend you two can have a moment to yourselves
She's always giving you her food, you don't even need to ask. She'll happily let you pick at her plate if you're still hungry or you haven't eaten in a while due to lockdown
You're lucky enough to only be two cells away from each other, you two often get in trouble for talking during lights out
If you're ever in trouble, Vi takes the beatings for you. She can and has thrown herself between you and a guard and is not afraid to do it again
Same obviously goes for inmates
"If you want to keep your tongue in your mouth, I suggest you leave her alone"
Though not many inmates mess with you considering your personal body guard of a girlfriend
If you're ever thrown into solitary, Vi goes crazy. Getting into more fights than usual, refusing food, even trying to break into solitary to be with you
If you want, she gives you both matching tattoos there with whatever device she can get her hands on. She lets you pick out the design and the placement
Anytime she gets clean clothes, bandages, and hygiene supplies (all of which are of course a rarity there), she uses them/gives them to you first. Bandages up any new cuts of yours or changes your dirty ones, gives you her new toothbrush and toothpaste, and so on. You'll have to fight her on at least sharing some of the items, like the new tube of toothpaste. She just wants to make sure you're taken care of
"Just scored a new hairbrush. Go ahead and take it, bun. Need to keep your hair brushed so I can play with it, yeah?"
Vi cuts your hair for you there and takes it super seriously. She's not gonna let you walk around with a shitty haircut
Though she did fuck it up once (or a few times, but they were smaller mistakes that were easy to hide)
To make up for that godawful haircut she gave herself a bad one too. It's just hair, after all, it grows back
She'll stand guard while you're showering. Make sure no one's gaze is lingering around on you. Also lets you shower first so if there is any hot water you'll get it
Vi is a portable bed for you. Whenever you're together and you want to rest, she'll try to find a quieter place and let you rest your head on her shoulder/in her lap. She plays with your hair while you're sleeping and checks your pulse every now and then. Just to make sure you're still there with her
Whenever you get sick there, she will make the biggest fuss to get you to medical. If that isn't an option Vi does her best to take care of you with the limited resources you both have
"Snuck a bit of that honey from breakfast. Try and cover your throat in that and don't worry about talking, okay Y/N?"
During bunk inspections, if you have any contraband, Vi takes it and hides it in her cell. She rarely ever gets caught with it, but she'd rather take the punches than have you on the receiving end of them
On the flipside Vi trades a lot of her own contraband to get things for you. Things like snacks, jewelry, hair dye, better clothes, anything other inmates have that you might want
Though if trading for those doesn't work, she will straight up steal them for you
When Caitlyn comes to release her for help with tracking down the stolen gemstone, she throws in a condition. An obvious one
"You're getting Y/N out too. That or you can try to find Silco on your own. Undercity is going to eat you alive without me"
And that's how you and your lover finally escape Stillwater
The Vi fic won!! i'll have it posted sometime today, just polishing it up currently <3
the difference in their arms had me shaking and quivering ..
vi’s back covering caitlyn’s entire frame .. just .. just had me thinking.
Lavander Petals
Vi x Fem!/Pronouns Reader
Words: 4,310
Summary: Life took everything from you that tragic night. Years have passed and the ghosts of your past knock on your door unearthing intense feelings, could you forgive? Let go?
Written Curse: Use of (__)! Second person! I'm not an english native speaker so I support on translators!-- It took too long to write this. anyway, i wanted to do my own version of Vi and Reader reunited--This happens after the end of the season! See ta Darlings!
Your eyes feel heavy, heavier and heavier as time goes by, so many years and still the pain has not shed the veins of your heart. There are even times when you believe that everything was part of your imagination, from the need to love and appreciate that in the end you ended up more hurt. Or maybe it was all real and that would make it worse, you don't know it anymore you don't know anything, you've never known anything and that hurts more.
Are you crazy? No, no, no. Of course not… or that's you want to believe, maybe, it’s all a bad dream, a bad thought that took too much control of your life and even they still are by your side. Playing a bad prank while you sit on the bench, your elbows resting on the bar that was just cleaned, your hands on your jaw and cheeks that conform to the pressure of these, your lost look on the liquors on the shelf and so on, your legs spread out for being very close to the bar when your feet rest on the metals under the chair. Your sense of hearing absent in the moment, focusing on the illusion of their loss.
When night falls and a new life begins, yours comes to rest. Your eyelids still for a long time now prevent you from having to recognize that you are totally alone and always will be, tomorrow will continue and will until the same luck knocks on the door of your little dwelling. But why would it be today if it was not before?
The morning rests everywhere, penetrating even the thin layer of skin of your face, with a rhythmic touch you began to wake up. Some noises were leaking into the almost empty room and helped you to take a more energetic attitude.
When you got out of bed you stretched your whole body, your legs hanging from the edge, after a few minutes you finally stood and went to get ready for the day, the mirrors in the room covered and your eyes never on the windows... with slow pace you made your way to the bathroom, with the natural light made it feel more hollow, as if the walls were paper and anyone could break them to reveal your naked being. After a few hours you finally left the place, your steps leaving invisible traces where you pass, with a cape and hood that partially covers your face...
When they met you they always made the same comment in some way or another, their smiles and their kind attitude bothered.
"She looks too much like you!" the female voice with surprise examined your face, her eyes wide open, with her legs slightly bent to be at the same height, then, a somewhat hoarse laugh filled your senses, your frowning of discomfort was heading to the man less than 2 meters away with his arms crossed in the form of pride, he simply nodded not before ending that 'actually she looks more like her mother’, everyone simply accepted it and after some more comments they were going to do something else.
So he approached and with his thick arm rested on your shoulders, gave some words to make you feel better, messing with your hair and returned to his work, you jaded without feeling really upset and with no one around you immediately smiled until one hand took yours and carried you with the others while the sounds of talk and glass became just an indistinguishable buzz.
Years and years ago it was like that, right now even if you would give anything for someone to make the comparison you could not stand to see you, you could not let someone else see you. For being the living image of your father.
When the night finally took the city back into its clutches and with your day finished you walk through the dark streets, the occasional lights as a guide back to your loneliness and tormented thoughts. Each step is more difficult than the previous one thanks to both physical and mental fatigue but you need to continue, you must.
For the memory of your family and for your own good. Already in front of the door and with soft movements you take the key out of your pocket and put it in the lock, you open and pass in the main corridor to the house, your pupils dilated to capture as much light as possible in the sea of darkness and groping to turn on the spotlights you guide yourself from the wall. When you turn on the lights and go into the living room you sit in the old sofa and torn from some parts.
You inhale and take the aroma of moisture as well as the dust settled in some corners, squint your eyes and hear the small squeaks from outside, but this condition does not last anything thanks to a few blows on the door. Somewhat surprised by this you turn your head a little and you only observe the door darkened by the little light that comes to it, not long after the sound is repeated but with greater intensity and less time intervals between each blow.
Slowly you get up and walk toward the door, back in the hallway, your hand moves toward your back pocket and firmly grabs the knife that rested there. You bend so that your eye is at the same height as the peephole and focus, the only thing visible were two silhouettes and nothing else; no details. Nothing. For this reason you tighten the handle of the knife even more without responding or making another movement. One of the two figures moves more than the other due to the blows it gives while the other seems weak to give the impression that its silhouette is leaning on the other.
With squinted eyes you expect them to leave or if they insist, if they try to enter... Your blood is frozen when you hear your name on the other side of the door, the voice is desperate and extremely familiar, your eyebrows are contracting and your grip on the knife makes you feel your hand throbbing as the other little as you are leaning against the door. And again, like an echo, the realization of a heart eroded by pain like a stone before the water again, feels like the exact momement of your disgrace.
Without thinking your hand that is leaning on the door moves to wrap the handle and turns it to open, for an instant three visible figures invade your eyes and everything seems like the first time. You remember standing in confusion when you saw two colorful heads being carried by his two big arms, your gaze ran from top to bottom until his head bowed and raised his eyebrows, with this you moved to allow them to enter.
The person in front of you is the image of that girl whom you loved and lamented so much, the one to whom you dedicated so many sleepless nights and tears thinking that you should have seen her body, to give her a worthy burial like the others, a farewell. Perhaps it is time to accept that you are no longer in your faculties, which is one of the many tricks that your mind plays. But when those pupils meet yours and her hand rests on your arm everything becomes real.
"(__)" you hear the repetition with restlessness, thoughts at a thousand per hour. And all you do is stick to the wall and move the knife arm slightly. Vi notices this, her intermixed expression of feelings and emotions but she looks at her companion and both pass with weakness, being in the middle of the room you close the door, your body trembles, you do not blink fearing the passage of time.
With a warm smile he introduced you to the girls and asked for your help to attend them in the mean time he prepared something for them to drink, the tallest sat in the chair that you were using before waiting for your father, the other; with blue hair like her irises walked all over the bar admiring the details.
You bit your cheek and grabbed another of the chairs that were on the table, and next to the girl you sat and swayed your feet until after a while you started talking, at first she did not talk too much, giving answers of a syllable. On Vander's return, he put the drinks on the table, four in total and grabbed a chair of his own, turned it and leaned on the back of it. He started talking to Vi and Powder to make them more comfortable, some laughs found a place that night as well as a new home for them.
At last you leave the door and walk to the room to see the girls still in the middle as if they did not want to intrude more, when recovering some of your previous stillness you observe them and notice the agitated language of the two. The arm of the dark-haired one fully supported in VI, which only walks to the armchair and helps the other to sit there, her gaze rises until she meets yours again and everything feels real again, "(__)" again says before walking towards you and wrapping you in it tightly "(__)" it sounds like a plague, she separates a little and rests its hands on your cheeks. A strange touch.
"It is you" her swollen eyes fill with tears but the only thing you can do without having completely exited the shock is to blink "Vi?" it comes out on its own and you feel how your eyes are on the verge of being on par with hers, she nods and smiles half-way, tears already fall down her cheeks and with greater force she embraces you again, without another word you open your eyes processing everything that happens and slowly the hand with which you hold the knife drops it to grab her shoulder, your gaze falls for a second on the girl sitting on your armchair but simply rests on Vi’s pink hair.
Tears begin to fall from one moment to another, your whole body clings to hers so as not to let it go again and your senses drown in a great intensity that makes her secure you with words and more tact. In a span of half an hour they finally separate from each other, before you can say anything she turns to the girl, "I need… we need to stay for today" The struggle in her voice is quite obvious "Please" when you see those eyes you can’t say no, figuratively and literally you can’t settle for.
"You can stay here or sleep in my bed" you sigh and rub your jaw to squat and pick up the knife "That’s what I can offer ", she nodded "Thank you, really" and while standing you keep the knife in your pocket and watch the other girl more "Caitlyn, she's Caitlyn" Vi clarifies as you check her body and see the tears, in her clothes; the dirt on her face and her shaken face.
You squeeze the jaw and raise your shoulders "Whatever…" you inhale delicately "Do I take care of your wounds or can you on your own?" you say as you walk to the desolate kitchen, Vi puts her hands in her pockets of her jacket "We can" now an air of some discomfort settles "Where is... well... everything?" she asks and walks to the frame where a door should be to enter the kitchen and lay her arm there. "In the bathroom" as if her presence was the most normal you try not to see her and eat a few cookies "It is better for you to rest" you say and walk until you are face to face "So decide, the sofa or my bed". The urgency in your voice as well as your modes are strange to Vi but she decides to let them go by now "Don’t worry, the sofa will be like a delicacy" you step and see the floor, she moves and you go to the living room.
You walk to your room and grab one of the few bedspreads and come back, you stand next to Caitlyn and stretch the bedspread, she raises her gaze and appreciates your face for a moment "Thank you" she whispers to the grip and put it on the sofa, you notice like tears form in her eyes and her face contracts but she bends her head and puts her eyes on something else. The familiarity of this action makes your eyes show pity but you do not ask when you do not want to worsen the emotions that she's probably feeling "You're welcome" you say flatly biting your tongue "lI'l go to my room" you take a fleeting look at each one before making way to your bedroom, no one answers or moves, just following you with their eyes.
When you close the door of the room you cover your mouth and exhale with fear, this cannot be possible, Vi, alive but, how? As if you had been repressing all your pain, it hits you once more, memories beat and bleed as if there were no tomorrow. You saw your dead father… the others are gone and she was too.
At midnight and somewhat calm you smoked with the windows closed thinking and thinking when the door opened without further do, the brightness of the moon was barely able to discern the new presence but you did not react, too exhausted for that. You just watch and wait but don't talk until a few seconds later, "(__), Can we talk?" Vi whispers but sounds so clear in contrast to the dead silence that remained so the exhalation seemed like a jester but you whisper in confirmation and VI walks to the edge of the bed and takes a seat.
Before she can talk you take that opportunity "Where were you?" You wanted to scream, cry again, smile and hug her for days, feel relief, but the affliction was dominating you. "You were dead" your face begins to contract and your teeth cut your tongue. She closes her eyes and tilts her head with her hands against the bedspread "I know, I’m sorry… I thought I was doing the right thing and in the end I ended up doing more damage, I tried to go back with Jinx, but Marcus…" the emotions seem to be too much.
"And after so many years in that prison. When I left I tried to fix things, I was told that you were gone, even that you were dead" she breathed trembling and you know it by being attentive to the sounds, the view not very reliable at the time but what was allowed to see is how she tries to maintain her composure "Ekko tried to help us but-" what? Ekko what? You press the tip of the cigarette against the ashtray to turn it off and wait for her to finish but she does not. You blow and let go of the last smoke, another emotion invades you, a lasting feeling but embarrassed to admit, even for yourself.
You take the courage to say it out loud, in the end, all this has been very stressful. "I told you to wait for me" you started with a knot in your throat and your lungs burning "I told you to wait, we had everything to go" now you feel your pressure rise and your body moves to try to filter your state. "I know, I know… I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, I didn’t know what else to do" she hurries to answer and slides to get closer to you, suddenly the room lights up thanks to a ray that announces the rain, there you see her face well and although only for a second it is like that, it is as if it has been engraved in your mind. You turn out your head and close your eyes with tears once again "No, you don’t know Violet" you open your eyes and bite your cheek "I thought they were all dead."
"Seeing that none of you were at home I ran to the damned place" Your words sound drowned and hardly come out with meaning "Only to meet my father’s corpse." you cover your eyes with the hand that previously held the cigarette "I did not even have the courage to see the bodies of others" Vi saw only listen with her heart about to break when imagining such a scene, repentance and guilt whispering inside, forcefully grab your hand, wants to listen, knows that she must.
When she moves his thumb to caress your palm a warmth envelops you slightly, you breathe with deep intention as more tears fall "When I returned, Silco had already taken the place with his followers, I had nowhere to go" you stop talking when you overwhelm yourself with everything, you bow your head, you breathe and breathe. "I had no idea (__)" answered Vi now in front of you and she hugged you again, "I'm sorry" Her hands squeeze your shoulders and take your smell, clinging to a part of her past with hopes that it hasn’t changed but inside she knows it’s impossible, she changed, Jinx changed and so do you.
"I wanted to blame myself, I wanted to blame you" you continue with heaviness "I wanted to blame everyone" you don’t give back the hug "I had a home and from one moment to another I had nowhere to go, I couldn’t even walk without being chased by those damned men and all for being my father’s daughter" the knot in your throat gets tighter "I couldn’t even be with Ekko because of the fear that the same thing would happen to him…" you pull away from VI. Another ray accompanied by thunder takes over the sky and the room lights up and reveals that both are directly seen when the darkness takes up its space "I also died that day" you clench your jaw and your teeth fight against each other "And now, after all this time you return without more?", "After years of crying thinking that I had turned my back on my family and that they had died because of that, you just knock on the door and bring an Enforcer asking for a place."
"It's not like that" Vi says and puts his hands on each shoulder "Then how is it?" Now you are the one who approaches "I wanted to look for you before", "And why didn’t you do it?" even though Vi understood your emotions, she couldn’t help but be frustrated by how you were behaving now "Because I looked for Po… Jinx, because I had to help Caitlyn and things happened" she says determined and moves her hands a little while they are still on your shoulders but you take them off with your arms, "And did you think it was a good idea to appear without further ado?" Vi buff when you stood up from the bed "I had no other choice (__), understand it" this for some reason makes you angry and you put your hands together creating fists "Option? Didn’t you have option VI?" You raise your arms and open your fists "You’ve always had options, Violet, but you always decide to take them without first thinking--.
With this Violet is equally annoyed and without standing only speaks with a tone that demonstrates this "Do you think I wanted all this to happen? I think about things but I decide to act, not just stand still doing nothing" you turn your eyes and walk through the bedroom raising your voice "And how did that work for us both?" VI comes back to jester, stands and crosses her arms " What do you mean?."
You bite your tongue and turn your back on it when you stop walking but you don’t answer, seconds pass silently before she asks you again, you turn around and watch her silhouette "Do you think I don’t blame myself too? Do you think I spent all those years in that shitty prison with a smile thinking about how I ruined everyone's life?" now she is the one who clenches her fists "Vander was also my father (__), you may think that because he was your biological father I do not feel his loss equally, but at least I tried to do something for him."
Without saying anything else she walks and opens the door to leave, leaving you with intense emotions and feelings, you sit in bed and cover your face, the bed shaking by the movements of your body. A few hours later you finally fall in surrender and the dream takes you in its arms.
The next morning you woke up before dawn and tired you went to the room with the surprise of seeing both of them sitting on the sofa, remembering the talk Vi and you u had hours ago you swallow some saliva, you continue your walk "You must be hungry" Caitlyn gets up and with the blanket in her arms follows you "You're very kind but no thanks" she turns around and sees Vi who lifts her shoulders and then rests her elbows on her legs, Caitlyn rolls her eyes before getting closer and giving you the blanket "Thank you very much, really" her lips create a little smile of gratitude and when she takes the blanket she closes her eyes for a moment and agrees, "It's nothing…" you narrow your eyes "Caitlyn" she stretches her arm and takes your hand gently when she starts shaking it.
""Of course, Caitlyn" you nod and stop taking her hand, she gives you a sympathetic smile again before walking, not without first saying that she goes to the bathroom to cool her face so you are alone in the kitchen for a few seconds, you leave the quilt on one of the bars and exhale putting your hands on the bar just a few centimeters from the quilt, You hear the footsteps of Vi behind you and close your eyes, swallow saliva again "It was not my intention to say what I said" you know it is better that whoever takes the conversation is you, it was always you who started conversations like this when both of them discussed things Milo said were very stupid.
"It’s just that, it was so sudden that you arrived; even now part of me thinks I’ve already gone crazy" a bitter laugh comes out of you without even moving to see your face "For so long I didn’t know what to do, my emotions were only getting worse" you grab courage and turn your body to be face to face "And when I saw you at the door… it was too much" she puts her hands in the pockets of her jacket and watches the kitchen "I understand what you feel, it was not easy for me either" she sighs with regret "I never thought you had that part in you" she smiles slightly "But I keep winning you, I wasn’t going to let you talk to me like that without giving you a spoonful of the same" finally she walks around and lays a portion of her back on the bar.
None of you speak for a moment, her presence being the only thing necessary to understand eachother. You try to understand what she has gone through and how it has affected her, you even come to compare situations with this new perspective. You think about any situation you have been in and imagine what it was of VI at the same time and that made your heart flutter. "Has anything changed between us?" You interrupt your thoughts to listen and now you travel to that topic, you have done it, of course.
"Do you want them to change?" The question could be taken literally but between the lines and between you knew the meaning of this, she busts with a smile and crosses her arms "Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you look at her and how she looks at you" you say looking at her from the periphery to see how her face matches the color of her hair and moves her head "I think we broke up without realizing it" now she crosses her legs and takes a more serious attitude and then talks "When all this is fixed… Can I keep seeing you?" Her melancholy tone seems as if she was saying goodbye.
You walk around and take your eyes to the floor "Maybe… just… that’s not like this time, ok?" now she laughs "You know me, pretty" when she finishes saying it, Caitlyn returns and Vi walks away from the bar.
After they talk they finally decide to leave and continue with whatever they have planned, the farewell becomes difficult but both are promised that things will improve. When opening the door of the house Caitlyn leaves first and now it is Vi's turn, you take a look and that way you say more things without the need to speak a syllable. You see them leaving and you feel something you never thought you would be able to experience again. Peace. Even for a second you feel it and think that things will improve, but it is a matter of time proving bad or good, the only thing you can do for now is wait. In the end a different kind of luck knocked on your door.
"can i kiss you?" vi asks, close enough that her lips are a mere inch away from yours. the scent of alcohol hits your nose, hitting you with a little piece of reality that nearly winds you.
you swallow, looking at vi through your lashes, and try not to fall into this trap. because that's what this is; a trap geared towards your downfall.
but vi's staring at you, her gaze so sweet with how disarming her puppy dog eyes are. it breaks you down from the inside and deconstructs you until you're only pieces of yourself. but you have to hold it together because you can't do this; you can't be involved in this.
"vi," you murmur, moving back a little so you can breathe. "you can't. it won't—it's not fair."
"...i know," vi whispers, after a brief moment, and closes her eyes. then she's closing the gap between you two, but only so she can rest her forehead against yours. "i know."
tears burn behind your eyes and sit tight in your throat, your hands curled into fists at your sides.
but you say nothing and simply allow both of you to exist in whatever piece of time this is.
Being friends with act 1 Vi
*ﾟpairing: Vi x reader (Platonic)
*ﾟwarnings: Underage drinking, mention of vomit, kids doing stupid shit, description of injuries
*ﾟA/N: Some of these stories are stolen from friends 💀
Growing up in the lanes is dangerous but that doesn't mean you can't have fun
You, Vi, and her siblings are constantly doing stupid shit, once Mylo stole a box with fireworks and almost set himself on fire trying to light them
Powder is there to witness all the dumb shit, she never really engages but she's definitely just in the background
"How much money to chug this whole thing?" said Vi, gesturing towards a water bottle bigger then mylo's hair. She drank the whole thing in 20 seconds and nearly puked.
injuries, injuries, injuries, at least one of you is injured at any point and time, Vi once dislocated her shoulder trying to show off her parkour skills, she missed a jump and fell on her elbow, making a loud POP! sound echo throughout the quiet alley, you'd never seen her cry until that day
While Vi wins most Injured, Mylo takes the cake when it comes to stupid ideas.
In the same week he gathered an army of poro's and freed them onto the street a few days later he stole a mutated god knows what from a street vendor, it bit him so hard he was sure he lost a finger
Claggor may seem like the peacemaker but he is most definitely the one provokes others to do risky things
"I'll give you a bag of silver gears to make that jump. What do you mean you'll fall? Chicken."
When you're not out and about terrorizing the streets of zaun with your teenage antics, you're terrorizing each other In the basement of the last drop
Powder usually plays music while she works on her gadgetry, sometimes you find yourself humming to the catchy tunes but most of the time your yelling at Mylo to stop screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs
"Wanna play nutball?" Mylo questions, tossing a full plastic bottle at Vi, she catches it with ease, "What?" "Sit on the floor, roll the bottle super fast and hope it doesn't hit your nuts" Violet snorted, "I don't have nuts asshole"
Despite that they played for a good 30 minutes, until Vi shoved the bottle a little too hard and basically paralyzed Mylo, he started whining so much Vander came down and the two of you tried to explain what happened through laughter and tears, your stomach hurt from cackling so hard.
Powder was always a sensitive kid so you tried your best to be gentle with her, but no amount of strength could've helped you hold back your laughter when the girl hissed at you like a cat when she was angry, Vi being used to it told her to cut it out but you were rolling on the floor dying.
Powder is a BEAST at arcade games, she spends hours hunched over the dusty screen strategically smashing the buttons while sticking her tongue out to focus, it's the one thing Vi can't beat her on but you? The both of you will go back and forth for days, desperately fighting for the number 1 spot, Vi got so tired of powder staying up to plan strategies and combos that she ripped the cord out the of the machine.
AINT NO WAY @abbygf GOT DEACTIVATED CAN SOMEONE PLEASE HELP FIND REBLOGS IM CRYINGG (especially of the stepmom sevika p1 and 2 😭🙏 - i got it guys :DDD)
these are the ones i've found so far
omg y'all i recently watched a play through of tlou2 and fell in love with abby now this is making me think of all the content i missed time to cry again-
can anybody find that one fic where sevika and vi were in the middle of fighting to the death and reader had to pick between the two and whoever the reader chose would kill the other? and there were prompts for both sev and vi? or finds someone who reblogged it? i’ve been looking for like 2 hours and i can’t find it idk if it got deleted or if i’m just blind 😭 i don’t remember the name
YALL JEVER MIND WE GOT IT!!! https://www.tumblr.com/arcanemoxhi/702687918050902016/choose?source=share
i’m not deleting this because god forbid i forget again or someone else wants to find it too but yayyy happy thursday 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷
Arcane Imagine;
pairings; Vi/reader
Imagine you and Vi moving in together for the first time.
warnings; fluff, established relationship, love sick!vi, more fluff & comfort, arcane au, implied smut reference, teasing, s*xual jokes
a/n; I recently moved <33 so I wanted to write a lil something for vi I can now get back to writing and making silly lil posts because moving is exhausting as fuck lmao
You and Vi have been thinking about moving in together for the longest time, Vi first thought about it when she laid eyes on you when she saw you at the bar
You were with your friends, hanging out, drinks in hand, laughing along with them, she couldn't stop staring at you, how gorgeous you looked that night, how effortlessly beautiful you are to her
She really was a moth that was drawn to the flame
Because randomly, after meeting you, talking to you for a few hours in some bathroom, she was already attached to you, she didn't say it out loud then, it took her ages to actually tell you she has feelings for you
When she did though, it was the best decision she's made, and the one that didn't go to shit
Vi is always by your side, clinging to you, like a lost puppy, it's adorable, you think, as you do the same to her
But when it's just you two, she really let's down her walls and is just completely herself
When there's others around, she puts on that tough act, your very own scary dog privilege
No one can touch you or talk to you in a wrong way, and if someone upsets you, makes you uncomfortable, well they're in for a beating
Vi does not mind getting her knuckles bloody for you
When you brought up the idea of living together in an apartment, even if it wasn't that big and the rent was high, Vi immediately jumped on board
You found it really fucking cute, watching her ramble excitedly about how you two should decorate your room, apartment, she says how you can have your plants in different places, a nice coffee table, a tv, games, you just really liked listening to her talk
Now when you two did the apartment hunting, that was long and slightly boring, having to meet up with strangers to potentially set a deal on your new home, yes, you were both still very excited, and finally, after trying to find the right one, you both found your home
You got what you could afford, and after signing the lease and getting the keys, you were able to officially move in
The moving was stressful, getting everything together, making sure nothing was lost or broken, Vi kept on worrying about her CDs and DVD collection, same with her other collections she has that she didn't want to lose, stuff that she's kept from her childhood, rare items she's found that people have thrown away for some reason and it's actually worth a lot, Vi likes those stuff, she likes finding good things
You like to add to the collections to, when you find things that remind you of Vi
Vi wouldn't show much of her "nerdy" side to anyone else but you had that special spot
There definitely would be Vi making sex jokes, how the new couch would be perfect to try new positions on, or how the bed might not last that long, for that you slapped her playfully on the shoulder, and she laughed hard
She loved teasing you
And will not stop
Vi never really knew she was ever gonna experience this, just that domestic life filled with good moments that will play a huge part in your life for years, and here she was with you, she did not want to let go
Vi was excited about turning this place into a home that shows the both of you, so when they invited people over they would know immediately
She was crazy for you, in the best way possible and you wouldn't have it anyway else
Vi fics keep me alive
— 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
I LOVE OMGGG
Ex at Christmas
violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
summary: christmas is just around the corner, and you've been invited to spend them with your ex-girlfriend's family. only one problem is that your ex-girlfriend has not told anyone that the relationship is over. (requested by anon) warnings/themes: fluff and angst, found family af, fake dating, ex lovers, christmas, family gatherings, secret santa, everyone is alive and happy au, modern au vi just begging for you to take her back? words: 17.8k.... (i got carried away) notes: it's so long i should've cut it into parts but idk where... so suffer (╥﹏╥)
As always, the last drop is a lively spot. warm, cozy, and familiar. Colorful lights hang from the ceiling, a decorated tree stands in the corner, a 'merry christmas' painted on the wall, even a few strings of garland have been hung from the low ceiling.
People are crowding around the bar. Some are playing pool, some are simply chatting amongst themselves, cigarette smoke curling up toward the ceiling.
Vander's voice snaps you from your thoughts. “Look who finally showed her face around here.” He reaches over the top of the bar to ruffle your hair.
“I know, I know,” you laugh, swatting his hand away. “Things are just... busy, y'know?”
Vander rests his forearms on the countertop, leaning closer to you. “Just making sure you're still alive. 'Been an awful long while since I last saw you.”
“I've been fine, old man.”
“Glad to hear you're doing alright kid. Haven't seen you around here in, what, three months? You need to come by more often, keep an old guy company,” he chuckles. “I almost thought you'd vanished.”
“You sound like a grandma with kids that never call.”
Vander grins and winks at you, taking a rag and wiping at the bartop. “You're like a kid to me, so I guess it checks out.”
You scoff but say nothing, leaning against the bartop as your eyes start to travel across the room. A few people mill about that you recognize as regular patrons, but other than that, there's pretty much no one of interest.
Vander snorts and lifts the rag to his shoulder. “We're having our christmas gathering again this year, you should swing by. Just like last christmas, eh?”
A lot has changed for you in the past month, and you've been dreading this coming up. “I... don't know. I don't think so.”
Vander raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean you don't know? Not up to seeing the old gang again?”
“Not exactly,” you murmur, the memory of the breakup is still fresh. It's not that you don't want to see your friends, it's just the idea of seeing Vi again.
You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “It's not that, I just... things have changed, especially recently. I don't want to... accidentally make things awkward or something.”
Vander shakes his head and it almost seems like he's laughing at you. “Why would it be awkward?”
“I don't know…” You sigh, your shoulders slumping in resignation. “Nevermind it, I'm going.”
Your words get a smirk out of Vander, and he reaches over to poke your arm. “That's what I like to hear,” he gives you a wink, folding his arms across his chest. “You better show up or I'll drag you here myself. You know I could.”
“Like I'd let you drag me here, old man—there's no way your back can handle that.”
“Ah, you kids these days have no respect for your elders. You're gonna break my old back and then I'll die,” he pretends to sniffle, making you scoff.
Silco then walks over, looping his arms around Vander's shoulders. The two of them exchange a knowing glance before Silco turns his attention to you. “Look who actually decided to show up.”
Vander laughs as he pats Silco's arm. “Cut the kid some slack. They're just here to have a good time.”
Silco chuckles, his eyes still on you. “So are you coming on Christmas?”
You almost sigh as Silco brings up the party again. You rub at the back of your neck, and just as you're about to answer, Vander beats you to it.
“Yeah, she's coming,” he confirms.
Silco hums, he lifts his arm from off vander, resting it in his hip instead. “Good, I was beginning to think you were going to weasel your way out of it.”
Vander smacks his shoulder. “Lay off, would ya? let the kid breathe.”
Silco relents and waves his hand dismissively. “I'm just saying,” he looks back at you. “We all want you there, you know. It wouldn't be the same without you.”
Hearing them say that makes you feel guilty for even considering not going. You know they mean it. You just hope it won't be too much awkward with Vi there.
Vander nods and smiles. “He's right, you know. Everyone's been asking about you. They'll be happy to have you there.”
“I get it. You don't have to butter me up, old man.”
Vander chuckles, then he glances over his shoulder, gesturing to a small, unassuming box on a nearby table. “Hey, could you grab that little box over there for me?” Silco smirks and nods before moving to get the box, bringing it over and handing it to Vander.
“What's in the box?” you ask.
Vander grins at you, holding the box in his hands. “We're doing a secret santa,” he explains, “and since you’re coming that means you're participating too.”
Your eyebrows raise to your hairline. You'd completely forgotten about the secret santa. You groan in annoyance, running your hands over your face. “I'm still annoyed I got that whoopee cushion from Powder last year.”
“That was a good one. She was so damn proud of herself too, and besides…” Vander pauses, turning to look at you. “You never know, you might get something less annoying this year.” He then holds the box out to you, a smile on his lips.
There's always the possibility you won't get something shitty, but knowing most of your friends... Yeah, that's unlikely.
You look at the box, then up at Vander, sighing. You take the box from him. “I hope you're right, old man.”
Vander chuckles before stepping back to talk to Silco.
You turn the box over in your hands, feeling the weight of it. It's not too heavy, and you almost feel compelled to shake it. But if you do that, you'll probably end up drawing Vander's name, and that's basically cheating.
Sighing, you decide to just bite the bullet. You take the lid off the box, sticking your hand inside. Your fingers rummage around before they eventually close around a folded piece of paper.
You pull out the slip of paper, unfolding it slowly. You glance at the handwriting, then almost roll your eyes.
Of course you got Vi.
Out of all the names you could have drawn, you get the one person you didn't want to get. You could have gotten literally anyone else. Mylo, Claggor, Powder, Silco, or anyone other than Vi. but no, you had to get your ex. Just your luck.
You look at the note again, and the first thought that comes to your mind is...
Well, crap.
You're so focused on the slip of paper in your hands that you don't notice Vander and Silco peeking over your shoulder.
“So, who'd you get?”
Vander's question makes you jump, you quickly stuff the paper into your pocket before they can see who it is.
“No one,” you say, waving your hand to dismiss the question. “It's not important.”
Silco raises an eyebrow. “Then why are you pocketing the paper?”
“It's a secret for a reason.”
Vander and Silco glance at each other, and you can tell they're silently communicating.
Vander turns back to you a moment later, rubbing his jaw. “A secret, huh? Well, that means whoever you got won't know it's you.”
Silco hums. “That's probably a good thing,” he mumbles.
“That's kind of the point of a secret Santa.”
Vander nods, scratches his beard before his lips turn up in a small smile. “True means you can give them something real nice.”
Silco glances at Vander before looking at you. “Whoever you got is probably going to be very happy when they get their gift.”
You almost snort at Silco's words. Yeah, right. a gift from you? She’ll probably chuck it straight in the trash.
You run a hand through your hair, trying to shake the thoughts of Vi out of your head. You don't know why you're worried about how she'll react. Why care if she'll like the gift? Why care if she's happy with whatever you get her?
The answer is so obvious, but you don't want to admit it even to yourself.
Vander and Silco are still looking at you, and you realize that you have to say something. Any longer and they might figure it out.
You push those thoughts away and force out a small scoff. “If they'll actually like it. I'm not the best with gifts.”
“Oh, I'm sure they will,” Silco says, an almost knowing smirk on his face.
Vander nods. “Just give them something from the heart.”
From the heart, my ass. The only thing you want to give her from the heart is a kick in the ass.
“Because someone's gonna be real happy with something from me.”
Vander and Silco exchange another look again, like they're having an entire conversation without actually saying anything.
You turn away from them, looking out the window. They're probably trying to read your mind, figure out who it is you got. The thought makes your eyes twitch. You don't want them to know. You don't know why, but you really don't want them to know.
“Just do us a favor,” Silco suddenly says, cutting into the silence that had fallen between you. “Try not to stress too hard about it. You'll give yourself gray hairs.”
Vander chuckles at Silco's words, “You'll give us an old heart attack.”
“Ha ha, funny.”
Silco grins at your response. “Well, we're only half-joking.”
Vander's eyes soften. He slaps Silco's shoulder to get him to shut up. “What he means is, you overthink too much,” Vander adds.
You almost huff. Yeah, so what if you overthink? It's a normal thing to do. especially in situations like this, where you're stuck with the one person you don't want to be.
Why keep thinking about her? You need to stop obsessing over her. She made her choice, and it wasn't you.
You run your fingers to your face, trying to think of something else to distract yourself. It's not like you don't know what you want to get Vi. You just don't know if you should get it.
“I don't overthink,” you grumble, shifting your weight on your feet.
“Oh yes, you do.”
And they're both right about that.. You can't even count how many times you've paced around your apartment, replaying every interaction you had with Vi over and over again in your head. Every word, every touch, and every look. All of it, it's like your brain refuses to let you forget.
You've spent countless nights trying to figure out where you went wrong. What you could have done differently if there was something you could have changed. All of that, just because of one person who tossed you aside without a second thought.
“Listen,” Silco suddenly says, snapping you out of your thoughts. You look over at him as he stands up straight, a smirk spreads across his lips. “You're going to drive yourself crazy thinking about something that hasn't even happened yet.”
“He's right,” Vander gives you a look before continuing. “And for the love of God, stop overthinking.”
If only it were that simple. If only you could just switch off your brain and stop thinking about everything.
But you know damn well you can't do that. Your thoughts are as uncontrollable as the weather, and right now, they're a mess.
You take a deep breath, trying to calm your thoughts.
“I should probably go,” you mutter, and the two men nod. Vander pats you on the back as you start for the door.
“Same place, eh?’ he calls after you.
“Don't think too hard, kid,” Silco adds.
You give them both a small nod as you exit the bar, shutting the door behind you.
Christmas is going to be one hell of a mess this year, you can feel it.
Now all you have to do is figure out how the hell you're going to deal with it.
—
You're standing outside of Vander and Silco’s house, the weight of the present in your hands suddenly feeling a thousand times heavier.
You've replayed this moment in your head countless times, but now that it's happening for real, you're not sure if you're ready.
Christmas music drifts out of the house, it's a familiar tune that you've heard a million times.
You push down the anxiety gnawing at your stomach. You shouldn't be feeling so nervous, it's just a gift. Just a present for a secret santa.
But this isn't just anyone, this is Vi. The one person who you didn't want to get. The one person who broke things off without a second thought.
Stop thinking about this. It's just one night. one stupid night, and then it will be over. You can get through this, you can handle being around Vi for one Christmas. No more thinking about her. No more wondering where you went wrong or if you could have done something to change things. Just get through the night and forget about her.
You take another deep breath, straighten up, and square your shoulders. Then, in one moment, you push open the doors to their house and walk inside.
Your eyes search the room, looking for that familiar pink hair. But you don't see her. Your shoulders relax a little. Maybe she's not here yet. That'll give you a few minutes to brace yourself. No one is around right now, probably in their rooms or preparing for the dinner.
You were so distracted by looking around that you didn't realize someone was standing right behind you until they grabbed you and spun you around. Your eyes meet their powder blue ones, and your mouth suddenly goes dry.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Woah, hey-” you stumble over your words.
“Don't 'woah hey' me,” she snaps, her grip tightening on your arm.
Vander's deep voice cut in before you could even speak. “You've actually came.”
You feel her look away from you, her hand finally falling from your arm. As soon as it does, you rub the skin where she grabbed you.
Vander looks between the two of you and says, “Hand me the gift, kid. I'll put it there.” He gestures towards a christmas tree where the gifts are already sitting underneath.
You quickly hold the present out for him to take.
He takes it before giving both of you another look. “Go easy with your girlfriend, eh?”
You freeze, your heart stopping as his words register. Your eyes widen as you slowly turn your head to look at Vi.
Girlfriend?
“I will.” Before you can even process what's happening, you're being pulled outside.
You yank your arm back from Vi, quickly putting some distance between the two of you. “What's your problem?”
She spins around and scoffs, looking you up and down. “I should be asking you that. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Vander invited me. He asked me to come.”
“Then you should've said no.”
“Wow? just wow.” You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I know that things didn't go well between us, but you don't get to push me out of this family. They're my family too, and Vander invited me here to celebrate. I have as much right to be here as you do.”
You refuse to break eye contact with her. “You can ignore me all you want, but you don't get to decide how I'm allowed to spend my Christmas. If you want to keep acting like this, fine. Ignore me, pretend I don't exist, just like you've been doing for the past months.”
Vi lets out a laugh, rubbing a hand on her forehead. “They do not know.”
You blink at her. “What do you mean?”
She looks over at the entrance and says, “They all think we're still together.”
Your eyes widen. “What?” you almost shout. “Why the hell would they think that?”
“Because I didn't tell them,” she scoffs. “Every time I talk to them, they ask me how you are. Silco and Vander keep making comments about how we make a cute couple. They still think we're together.”
“Why the hell didn't you tell them?” you glare at her. “Were you ever going to?”
“I don't know,” she retorts, throwing her arms up. “They're all so happy about us being together.”
“That's such bullshit,” you snap at her. “That's such a crappy excuse! You should be the one to tell them we broke up.”
She looks away, planting her arm on her hips. “Don't you think I know that?” she shoots back. “It's not that simple. I can't just rip off the bandage like that.”
“Is that it? You’re scared that they'll know?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know how Silco and Vander can get.”
“I know how they get,” you snap back at her. “You’re just too much of a pussycat to face them and tell them the truth.”
Her expression hardens, and her jaw clenches. “Look who's talking. You can't even say no to a little family gathering, but here you are.”
“Don't even start. I didn't come here because I wanted to see you. I came for the family, not for you.”
“As if I wanted to see you either. The last thing I wanted was to have to deal with you all night.”
You look her right in the eye. “Fine, you know what? I'll go tell them right now that we broke up. They deserve to know.”
She grabs your wrist before you can take a step towards the door. “Wait”
You look down at her hand, then back up at her. “What?”
“Don't,” she says through gritted teeth. “Just... don't tell them yet.”
You scoff, ripping your arm away from her grip. “Why the hell not? So they can keep thinking we're still together?”
“Just don't tell them tonight. Can you just give me until after Christmas?”
“Why are you still dragging this out? What difference does it make if we wait till then or do it now?”
“Because it's fucking christmas!” she snaps before dropping her gaze. “Look, it's the holidays. I just... I don't want to ruin Christmas. They've all been looking forward to all of us celebrating together. I don't want to ruin it by spoiling the fun.”
“Wait—let me get this straight. You want to fake it this christmas? Pretend we're still a happy couple?”
She's quiet again. “Yeah,” she whispers, looking down. “Yeah, that's what I'm asking.”
“You’re unbelievable, Vi.” You take a deep breath, trying to keep yourself together. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? You're asking me to pretend like we're still together, to pretend that nothing has changed.”
“It's just one day,” she mumbles. “One day, that's all I'm asking for. We can tell them anytime after that, just not tonight, please.”
She even says please. Something about the way she says it makes your heart ache.
She looks desperate, like this really means something to her. Who are you kidding? Of course, this means something to her.
They're her family, they're important to her. And on Christmas, all they want is for everything to be perfect. perfect food, perfect presents, and perfect couples.
You hate the way she's looking at you with those soft, pleading eyes. She always looks at you like that when she wants something, and you always give in. She does it subconsciously, knowing how to get exactly what she wants. And damn it, it works.
“Fine,” you mutter through clenched teeth. “You've got your damned wish.”
And there it is. There's the look you've been waiting for. That look of relief that comes to her eyes.
You hate that look. You hate how your heart flutters when she looks like that. You hate it so much.
“Yeah?”
“Yes, you've got me for tonight. I'll pretend like we're still together. Happy now?”
There's a flicker of a smile on her face, something quick that's gone before you can even register. “Yeah, thank you.”
She looks away again. Silence falls between the two of you as you shift awkwardly.
This is gonna be a long night.
You let out a sigh, watching as she keeps her focus on the floor. This is so damn awkward.
And it's your own fault for agreeing to this nonsense. There's no way this night doesn't end up being a goddamn catastrophe.
You would give anything to just disappear right now.
Powder's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Peeking her head out of the doorway, looking at the two of you. “Hey, you two. It’s cold out there, get your asses in here.”
You look at Vi, waiting for a sign of acknowledgment.
She slowly glances up, her gaze meeting yours. “Come on,” she murmurs, holding out her hand.
Taking a deep breath, you take her hand in yours.
You've held her hand so many times before—more times than you can count. Holding her hand used to be nothing, but now it feels so odd. Almost awkward.
But she doesn't seem to notice how out of place it feels. She slowly leads you towards the door, squeezing your hand as she pulls you along.
“How are my favorite love birds doing?” Mylo's voice greets you as you both enter.
He slings a casual arm over your shoulders, leaning on your shoulder to get a better look at you. “It's about time you two showed up. I thought for sure you were just gonna keep making out in a corner somewhere.”
It takes everything you have not to elbow him in the stomach. Instead, you keep a neutral expression and chuckle awkwardly, “Yeah, you know us. Can't keep our hands off of each other.”
“You two are sickeningly in love, it's really cute, actually.”
Your eye twitches, and you bite the inside of your cheek.
“Yeah, we're very in love,” Vi says, and you can tell she's trying not to roll her eyes.
Mylo claps you on the shoulder before releasing you. “Well then, I'm going to go find myself some eggnog,” he leaves towards the kitchen, whistling to himself as he goes.
You turn to look at Vi, and you almost feel a twinge of hatred towards the way she so casually holds your hand, like nothing is wrong.
“Are you okay?”
Her voice brings you back to reality, and suddenly you're all too aware of how hard you're clenching your jaw and the fact that you're basically just glowering at the floor with a storm cloud over your head.
You raise your eyes to meet with hers, and you have to force yourself to release some of the tension. “Yeah, fine,” you mutter. “just cold”
It's a lie, obviously. It's not cold at all. Vander always keeps the place nice and warm.
Not even she's dumb enough to fall for that. She glances around, clearly noticing how you're not really hiding your feelings well.
She runs her thumb over the back of your hand. It's an innocent gesture, one that you've seen dozens of times before. It's not meant to be anything special, it never was. And yet, it still makes your heart skip a beat.
You have absolutely no idea how you're going to get through this night with both your sanity and your heart still intact.
“Okay,” she finally says, “can you stop clenching your jaw so hard? you look like you're trying to grind your teeth down to the bone. I know this isn't the ideal situation, but please don't go around looking like you want to kill everyone in this room.”
Her fingers squeeze your hand, and you realize just how tightly you're holding her hand in yours. Your knuckles are white, and your fingers are probably digging into her skin.
Gritting your teeth, you loosen your grip.
“There, that's better.” She lets out a quiet breath. “Please try and just relax for a bit. This is going to be hellish already, so I at least need you to not look like you hate me every second we're in here.”
You let out a frustrated huff, looking away from her. “Please don't act like you care.”
“I'm not acting like I care,” she says, a tone just loud enough for only you to hear. “I do care, and that's the problem.”
Of course she has to say something like that right now. Of course she has to hit where it hurts the most.
Care? care about what? about you? about what she put you through, how she broke your heart?
You open your mouth, but your response dies in your throat. You have no idea how to respond to that.
A loud shout interrupts your thoughts, and you both turn around. “Oi! Time for dinner!” Powder yells from the doorway into the kitchen.
Vi mutters under her breath, “finally.”
Powder grins as she waves you both over. “Hurry up or Vander will eat everything and complain about his bad back afterwards.”
“We're coming,” Vi calls back.
The two of you head towards the kitchen. There's a long table in the middle of the room, covered in a red and green tablecloth. Everyone is already crowded around the table, taking their seats as you two enter the room. Vander is at the head of one of the tables, Silco seated beside him. Mylo and Claggor are chatting amongst themselves as Powder takes her seat beside Claggor.
Vi looks at the seating arrangement and sighs, realizing what's about to happen. She pulls you over to the table and sits down, pulling you down into the seat right next to her.
After a few moments, everyone quiets down and turns their attention to Silco.
Silco places his hands together. “It's good to see everyone together like this today. I am thankful that we are all here, safe and healthy.” He glances around the room in a quick survey, seeming to count everyone's attendance. “And what better time to be together than the holidays?”
Powder lets out a huff. “Can we just eat? I'm starving.”
Silco raises his hand for Powder to stay quiet. “Patience, Pow. First, let's do something a bit… different.”
Mylo and Claggor glance at each other in confusion. “Different?” Mylo repeats.
“Indeed,” Silco replies. “Instead of just diving into our meal, I thought it would be nice if we all took a moment to share a few words about what we are thankful for this year.”
“We're really gonna do this?”
Claggor nudges him. “Be polite, Mylo.”
“He's right, though,” Powder chimes in.
Silco raises an eyebrow at them both. “Is it really such a hassle to express gratitude at the end of the year?”
Mylo and Powder grumble something under their breaths.
Claggor is the first one to respond. “I think it's a fine idea.”
“Thank you, Claggor,” Silco replies, “I'm glad we have at least one cooperative person here.”
After a moment of silence, Vander speaks. “Alright, then I'll go first... I am grateful for my family,” he says as he looks around the room, taking in the faces before him. “I am thankful for my health, for my business, and most of all, that everyone is still here with me and safe.”
“That's so soft,” Powder mutters, but everyone ignores her.
Vander turns his head and looks directly at Silco, as if he's saying something that's meant to be for Silco's ears only, though everyone can clearly hear. “I'm also thankful for you, Sil,” he adds, the corner of his mouth twitching in a knowing smile.
You're not sure if you're the only one who noticed, but that comment definitely seemed personal and almost a little out of place.
He collects himself quickly and nods at Vander, seemingly not quite sure of what to say. “Thank you, Vander.”
Silco clears his throat and composes himself, turning his gaze to Powder. “How about you, Pow? Any words of gratitude?”
Powder groans, slouching back in her seat like a child who's been forced to eat her vegetables. “I swear, if you make me say something corny-”
Mylo leans over the table to look at her sister. “Say something nice for once, or you're not getting dessert.”
“Ugh, fine. I am thankful for…” she looks around the room. “I'm thankful everyone's here and we're all... whatever, happy and healthy or something like that,” she mumbles.
“I'll take whatever I can get,” Silco mutters before turning his attention to Claggor. “What about you, Claggor?”
Claggor seems to be taking a moment to think, like he's actually putting effort into what he will say. “I'm grateful for…” his eyes are almost unfocused as he thinks. After a moment, he glances up to look at Vander. “I'm grateful for the family I have here.”
Vander gives him a warm look in response.
Everyone's gaze turns to Mylo, expecting him to go next.
He fidgets anxiously, shifting in his seat as he glances around the room. “What am I supposed to say?...er, fine... My whole life's a mess, but...at least all you idiots are here to make my life more miserable.”
“We love you too, Mylo” Powder teases. “Real touching. I think I might cry.”
Mylo throws a glare in her direction. “Shut up.”
Silco glances at Vi, his gaze lingering as he waits for Vi to speak.
“I'm thankful for…” her voice is a bit quieter than usual, more hesitant. She glances at you before continuing. “I'm... thankful for the people I have in my life.”
Everyone's gaze settles on you next, waiting for you to say something. “Well, I... I guess I'm thankful to be able to still participate in this family gathering, even if I haven't seen everyone in a while.” You take a look at Vi before moving on. “Hopefully I can still be here and spend Christmas with all of you next year too.”
She holds your gaze for a moment, almost as if she's processing what you just said… and then, unexpectedly, a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
It's a subtle change, barely noticeable, but you see it. and just seeing her smile, even a small one like that, has butterflies filling your stomach. It's been so long since you've seen her smile like that. A part of you misses it, a part of you yearns to see it more often.
She quickly looks away, and you notice that her cheeks have turned a light shade of pink.
“There, we all said our little cheesy bullshit,” Powder says, clearly getting impatient.
Silco turns to Powder, his expression disapproving. “Language, Pow,” he reminds.
Vander sighs. “Yes, Powder, mind your language” he adds, earning a mock-offended look from Powder.
“Like you don't swear all the time.”
“I do not swear all the time, Pow,” he protests, although you know it's a lie. Even the most proper and upstanding people swear, and Vander is definitely not that.
“Yeah, yeah, sure.”
Vander huffs but chooses not to add anything. Silco lets out a dry cough to redirect everyone's attention. “Right, now that that's over, let's go ahead and eat, shall we?” Silco says, as if the whole moment of gratitude never happened..
“Finally,” Mylo grumbles, “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about why we all gathered here.”
Silco gives him a look. “Patience is a virtue, Mylo.”
“We've all been patient for the last hour, so spare me.”
Claggor lets out a little sigh, but thankfully Mylo and Powder seem to settle into silence for the time being.
Silco nods in approval. “Then, shall we begin?”
Vander gets up from his seat, moving to go grab the food.
Powder and Mylo look at Vander expectantly, and they both look like they're about to get out of their seats. Silco gives them a warning look, silencing them before they can get a word out. “Wait until everything is ready.”
They both grumble, but they obediently sit back down. They're impatient, sure, but they at least know better than to piss off Silco.
Vander returns a moment later, setting a platter filled with food on the table. It looks delicious, and the smell is mouthwatering. Your stomach growls a little, reminding you of how hungry you are.
Powder and Mylo are practically drooling, and you honestly wouldn't be surprised if they lunged for the food the moment Silco gave the word.
Thankfully, he doesn't give them any chance. He simply says, “Please, help yourselves,” and Silco has to gesture for them to wait.
They almost get up and move to the table, and they're clearly resisting the temptation to shove each other to try and get to the food faster.
Mylo lets out a curse, and Jinx giggles in response. Vi stands up and grabs both of them, grabbing onto their shoulders and holding them back from each other.
“Enough, you two,” she scolds, “there's plenty of food for everyone. Chill out.”
They look at her with expressions that clearly are saying, 'no, we're hungry'. Powder lets out a huff, and Mylo looks like he's one more remark away from shoving her sister.
Vi's expression sharpens, her eyes boring into Mylo and Powder. “No, quit the bullshit, you can wait a few minutes, and if you two can't act like adults about it, neither of you are getting any.”
Mylo immediately shuts up at that, his expression turning slightly more guilty. Powder just looks like she's about to protest, a pout forming on her face. Vi glares at Powder to shush her as well.
“Just quit it,” she says. “You can wait, the food will taste better if you don't shove it all down your throats like dogs.”
“Fine, we'll wait,” she grumbles.
Mylo just nods with a pout, staying quiet.
Vi seems to notice their looks, and she rolls her eyes, staying put just in case. She seems wary as she watches Powder and Mylo, her eyes switching from them to the food on the table.
And sure enough, the moment Silco gestures for everyone to get their food, Powder and Mylo are gone, rushing to claim their plates.
Claggor lets out a sigh as Powder and Mylo shove each other for their own plates. No one says anything though, they're all just used to it. This is just how Powder and Mylo are, and they've come to accept it. Vi doesn't even seem as bothered as everyone else does.
Mylo seems like he's really close to just pushing Powder to the side and snatching up the slice he wants, and Powder doesn't look any better. Honestly, if Vi didn't step in, there was a chance they'd start throwing punches.
And judging from how the others' looks, especially Silco, they look like they're expecting this.
It's like this is all completely normal, they know to expect this kind of behavior when food, and more importantly, free food, is involved.
Powder and Mylo finally settle down after their little fight, and they finally begin digging into the food.
Mylo is practically shoving it into his face, eating it like he's been starved for weeks. Powder isn't any better, although at least she's not making a complete mess.
Claggor is significantly slower when it comes to eating, choosing to take his time as he slowly eats as opposed to just shoving the food into his mouth.
Vander eats at a decent pace, and he doesn't seem as starving like Mylo is.
The last one to begin eating is Silco, and surprisingly enough, there's a smile on his face. He takes one look at how Mylo and Powder are chowing down on their food, then he turns his gaze and looks at you, as if silently asking if you're going to eat.
You take the hint, and you decide to dig into your own food. The food is delicious, and you can't blame Mylo and Powder for basically trying to swallow their food whole.
Vi also begins eating now that everyone's settled down.
Vander lets out a laugh, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Slow down a little, you two, the food isn't going anywhere.”
Mylo and Powder both raise their heads at that, and they both look like they're considering it for a moment... but they immediately go back to shoving food down their throats.
Claggor shakes his head as he watches them eat. “You'd think they'd never seen a Christmas dinner before.”
“You know them, they would scarf down all the food in town if they could.”
Powder glances up at that, a small pout forming on her lips. “Hey, it's not our fault we're just starving.”
Mylo nods in agreement, his mouth too full to say anything.
“You both just had eaten before this,” Claggor counters.
Mylo swallows whatever food is in his mouth long enough to argue with Claggor. “And that was hours ago.”
“Yeah,” Powder agrees, “it was practically an eternity since we ate.”
“Two hours is not an eternity,” Claggor retorts.
“It might as well be,” Powder counters.
Despite the bickering and arguing the dinner feels oddly... domestic, almost.
Claggor looks like the responsible and mature oldest sibling who's done with his siblings nonsense, Vander almost acts like a tired parent, Silco acts more like a stern aunt, and Powder and Mylo act like rowdy kids who are constantly at each other's throats.
Vi sits next to you. She's making sarcastic comments with Silco, laughing at Powder’s jokes, and making small talk with Claggor. She even gives Mylo an unimpressed glare when he tries to snatch all the bread for himself.
It's almost like you're both back to normal. The way she's acting makes your heart ache. She's giving you all the attention a partner would give.
She gives you fond smiles whenever you make a comment, she casually slides an arm around your shoulders, she even scoots her chair a little closer to yours.
Her eyes are soft, her voice is soft, whenever you look at her, she looks back with this almost affectionate look.
It's so normal, that it almost takes you back to your relationship and how you two were before the breakup.
She's even doing little things, like leaning closer to you, letting a hand rest on your thigh, even discreetly grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with hers under the table.
You want to hold her tight and never let her go, but your brain keeps reminding you. You two aren't together anymore.
But when you look at her, when she looks at you with that look in her eyes, everything goes quiet.
Maybe it could work this time.
Maybe you two could just bury the hatchet and move on.
Maybe things could work between you two if you try it out again.
Then you remember the fights, the nights you spent on your bed, crying while Vi was out with friends. You remember how she treated you after the breakup—how she tossed you aside like discarded trash.
You try to ignore it, push it to the back of your head. But it's so hard when Vi sits next to you, close enough for you to catch the scent of her perfume. She smells like cigarettes and leather, something that's so her.
You're so focused on trying to stop yourself from touching her or even getting closer that you're almost surprised when she suddenly leans her head against your shoulder.
She doesn't say anything, just leans against you.
She's so close. She's pressed against your side, her shoulder against your shoulder, her head against yours, her hand on your thigh.
You notice her scent again, now stronger.
Her hair brushes against your neck, the way you can feel the warmth of her body, and the way her thumb draws little circles into your thigh.
She's so close, and yet you want her even closer.
You want to run your hands through her hair, you want to nuzzle your face into her shoulder, you want to feel her hands roaming your body.
You just want her.
Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by Powder, her question pulling you out of your head. “It's been a while since we've seen you two together,” she says, her mouth still full of food.
Claggor shoots Powder a look. “Powder-”
“Shush, I'm just wondering,” she argues, shrugging casually, “has she been avoiding you?”
“No,” you say before anyone can say anything. “We just... haven't had time to schedule any dates, that's all.”
“For months? Haven't had time to schedule a single date for months?”
“Life gets busy, y’know,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant.
Mylo scoffs at that. “You two are dating, the least you could do is at least manage one date a month.”
Claggor smacks him over the head. Mylo grumbles and rubs the back of his head, shooting his brother a glare. “What? it's true,” he mutters. “We just kind of... we all miss you.”
Vander gives Mylo a disapproving glare. “What Mylo means is, your presence has been sorely missed around here.”
“We all just... we just want you around more,” Powder puts in her two cents, speaking around a mouthful of food again.
You cast a sidelong glance at Vi. You and her are putting up a pretty good facade so far, but Mylo's question seemed to have put her on the spot a little. She catches your glance, and you give her a look that says, just play along. Vi sighs, her hand squeezing your thigh.
“Look, I-” she glances around the table, meeting everyone's eyes before sighing and putting on the most believable expression. “I know we haven't been as... present as we should have been for the past few months. Work just got really hectic.”
“That's true,” you back her up with a nod. “I had to travel away for a business trip a few weeks ago, so it's been pretty hard to find time to spend together.”
Vander, Silco, and Powder all nod in understanding. They're aware of the fact that you have a job in a big city, so it's not an unbelievable explanation.
Mylo, however, snorts and crosses his arms. “You don't have to feed us some lame excuse for not hanging out with us.”
Claggor gives Mylo another smack. “Would you shut up already?”
“Ow!” Mylo grumbles as he rubs his head again, shooting Claggor a dirty look.
Vander sighs. “Regardless, it's good to have you here for Christmas this time.”
Everyone nods and agrees. Powder grins at you, Silco shoots you a small almost-smile, and Claggor and Vander both look genuinely pleased to have you here.
All eyes then land on Mylo, and he shrugs again, mumbling, “I guess it is good to have you here.”
“See, it's a christmas miracle, Mylo isn't being a little prick for once,” Powder teases.
Mylo scowls at her. “Hey, I'm never a little prick-”
“Bullshit.”
Mylo just grumbles again, his eyes narrowing at Powder. “I just think that-”
“Nobody cares what you think,” Powder interrupts again.
That just causes Claggor, Vander, and Silco to laugh. Vi snorts next to you, squeezing your thigh.
The conversation soon changes to talking about old childhood holiday memories.
Mylo tells a story about you and him stealing Silco's secret chocolate stash when you were twelve. Silco scowls at the memory, but there's a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Powder tells a story about the time she accidentally burned the back of Vander's hair with a roman candle. Vander laughs and shakes his head at the memory.
At some point, Claggor chimes in to tell a story about a time he and Mylo accidentally broke a window during a snowball fight. Even Mylo himself laughs at that one.
There's lighthearted banter, friendly jabs, and just a lot of laughter in between. This, this is what it should have been like from the beginning. It reminds you of the way it used to be when you were all younger, but still has a different air to it. In a way, it's almost better than those old days. Everyone's grown, but there's still that same energy that always connected you all as a family... it just feels fuller.
You don't know if it's just the christmas lights playing tricks on your mind, but you swear you can almost see the faintest tearful sheen in Vander's eyes. He's almost always had a bit of parental pride and love toward all of you, but seeing you all sitting here together, happy... damn, it must bring back a lot of memories for him.
Silco even looks slightly less grumpy than usual, his mouth twisting into a barely visible smile as the rest of the table continues talking. Yeah, this is how christmas should be…
It almost makes you forget that all of this is fake, almost makes you forget why you and Vi aren't together anymore. It's almost like just for tonight, you can pretend like things are back to how they used to be.
But you know this will not last. When everything is said and done, when christmas night is over and you're all saying your goodbyes, you have no doubt in your mind that you and Vi will go your separate ways again.
You glance at her, taking in the sight of her laughing with the rest. Her eyes are bright, her smile is big, and her entire face lights up with joy.
You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your heart to quiet.
Vi must notice you looking, because she glances over at you. She's looking at you with that look again. You recognize it so easily.
That look... that damn look she's giving you again. The look that makes your heart stutter against your ribs, the look that makes your stomach twist into knots. It's a look that almost makes you want to lean forward and kiss her.
You almost give into your urges. You almost reach out and push a stray strand of hair out of her face, you almost do something to kiss her, almost.
But you don't, you can't. That would spoil the whole 'still dating' facade, and besides.... you have boundaries.
You give her a little nod, offering a small smile, and you almost swear that you see disappointment flash across her eyes.
She looks like she wants to say something, her hand tightening over your knee again, but she seems to change her mind and just smiles back.
Maybe it's just a figment of your own imagination, you think to yourself. Maybe it was a trick of the light or something.
Claggor reaches over to grab something from the middle of the table, and Silco clears his throat. “How about you two?” he says it casually, like he's just making small talk, but there's a hint of concern in his voice. “Any... any problems between the two of you lately?”
You and Vi both sit up straighter. “Problems...?” Vi repeats.
Silco just shrugs, playing it casual. “I don't know, I'm just wondering... a lot of couples who have been together for as long as the two of you have.” He trails off, but everyone at the table knows the implications.
Mylo grumbles under his breath. “I swear, if you start talking about how high the divorce rate is—” Claggor elbows Mylo, and he shuts up.
Silco just chuckles. “Oh, I'm sure you two can last.”
Powder rolls her eyes. “These two have been together since forever. You guys were like... practically attached at the hip, from day one.”
“Yeah, we were like that, weren't we?” Vi looks back at you.
“Yeah,” you say with a casualness you don't feel. “Yeah, we were.”
Silco hums. “I remember when you two first started dating.”
“Oh, do you remember that?” Vander says, looking at Silco. “I remember the two of them coming to me the day they decided they were going to be official.”
Claggor nods. “Yeah, and they were so... so mushy. All 'you're mine' and 'we're never going to break up,” he puts on a mock high-pitched voice, imitating you and Vi
“That was the worst,” Powder groans, shoving food into her mouth.
Mylo grins and elbows Claggor. “How many times did you have to stop them from making out all over the bar again?”
“Way too many times.”
“By the way,” Mylo says. “You two aren't doing anything for new years, are you?”
You and Vi exchange glances. “..we haven't made plans yet,” you say slowly, trying to think of excuses.
“Oh, you should come join us then,” Mylo says, leaning back and stretching his arms. “All of us are getting hammered down here for new years, you two should come.”
“Yeah, it'll be fun!” Powder pipes up, eyes lighting up. “You guys will come, won't you? promise you'll come.”
You open your mouth, trying to wrack your brain for excuses, but before you can say anything-
“Of course we'll come.”
You turn to look at Vi, and she just gives you a shrug.
Mylo grins. “Good, good! That'll be fun,” he sits up and points a finger at you both. “I swear, the two of you used to be so much fun at parties, it's like you both went boring when you got older.”
“Hey, just cause we're getting old doesn't mean we suddenly became party poopers,” Vi says defensively. “We're still fun.”
Mylo cackles. “Are you now? I never see you two do anything anymore,” he leans back in his seat. “Ever since you got that fancy shmancy job, you've been too busy to have any fun.”
“We know how to have fun, we have—” you pause, trying to think of the word, “responsibilities now. responsibilities that a certain someone is too dumb to understand.”
“I understand responsibilities, but I understand the concept that if you don't get wasted while you're young, then you'll wake up at forty, old and boring,” he says, looking at Silco and Vander. “And I want to make the most out of my young and reckless years. Meanwhile, you've already turned into an old, boring fart.”
You scowl at that, but Silco interrupts before you can respond. “Don't knock on old farts just yet. Some of us are old and still know how to have fun.”
“Yeah,” Vander chimes in, nodding his head. “Just because we're old doesn't mean we don't know how to have a good time.”
Mylo rolls his eyes and waves a hand. “Yeah, yeah, you old farts can still have fun. You just don't know how to have real fun anymore.” Mylo then pouts. “I just... I miss how it used to be, you know?” he sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “Before all that adult crap, when things were easier.”
“Easier,” Powder mutters, poking at the remains of her food. “Yeah, when we were broke and always hungry, real easy.”
Mylo reaches over and flicks her arm. “Easy doesn't always mean money, you dumbass.”
Powder scowls and smacks his arm back. “Don't call me a dumbass, you dumbass.”
“Then don't be a dumbass,” Mylo snaps back, smacking her again.
Powder smacks him again, harder. “Don't you dare call me a dumbass again.”
Before they can start another childish argument, Silco's voice cuts in. “Enough you two," he says, and they immediately grumble and fall quiet.
“Honestly, I sometimes wonder how the two of you aren't still in high school,” Vander mutters under his breath.
“That's an insult to high schoolers, they're more mature than those two,” Claggor jokes, earning him a smack to the head from both Powder and Mylo.
He yells and puts his hands up in surrender, “ow ow ow, ok ok! don't hurt me!”
Jinx and Mylo laugh, while Silco shakes his head. “See what I mean? Children.”
“And they both insist they're mature enough to be out in the real world, independent and capable,” Vander says, while Silco chuckles.
“They're still just as chaotic now as they were in high school,” Silco says dryly. “Nothing has changed.”
Powder and Mylo both glare at him. “Really? like you two were that much better in high school,” she grumbles.
Silco raises an eyebrow at that. “We certainly weren't as immature as some people,” he says pointedly.
“You guys were probably just as bad as us, you just don't remember."
There's a pause, and Silco and Vander exchange glances before Silco snorts. He tries to bite back a laugh, but it comes out anyway, causing Vander to burst out laughing as well.
“I can't-” Vander wheezes between laughs. “I can't believe... you actually…”
Silco doubles over, laughing even harder. After a moment, he manages to gasp out a few words. “Oh, if you only... if you only knew…”
Powder and Mylo exchange confused glances, while Claggor tilts his head. “What? what happened? what's so funny?”
The laughter finally dies down as Silco composes himself enough to speak. “Nothing, it's nothing,” he says, waving a hand.
“All right, all right,” Vander looks around the table. “I think most of us are done eating. Who wants to help with the dishes?”
There's a collective groan from the rest of the table. No one likes doing dishes.
Powder and Mylo immediately groan out a “not it,” and Claggor follows up with “You all know I'm terrible at dishes-”
“Don't look at me either,” Silco grumbles. Vander just sighs and shakes his head.
and that just leaves you and Vi... great, just great.
You're about to argue as well, anything to get out of being stuck in the kitchen with Vi, but she beats you to it. “Yeah, we'll do it,” she says, before you can even open your mouth.
“Oh, I-” you pause for a moment. You had been fully intending to dodge the chore, but now you can't without looking like an ass and leaving her alone to do dishes.
Vi stands up and picks up the nearest stack of dirty dishes, balancing them on her arms as she turns to you. She shoots you a look, almost like she's daring you to try and weasel out of helping.
You get the hint, shaking your head a little and standing up. This is absolutely the last thing you want to do right now.
You follow her to the kitchen, grabbing a few more dishes along the way.
She holds the kitchen door open for you, and you step into the little kitchen with its small stone countertops and simple appliances. You set the dishes down on the counter near the sink, turning to find Vi already rolling up her sleeves.
She's not looking at you, but when she starts to roll up the left side of her shirt sleeve, you swear you can see her eyes dart over to you for a split second.
You pause, staring at the side of her face. You can't tell if she's... no, you must be imagining things. The light must be playing tricks.
She clears her throat, raising one eyebrow. “What, you're not gonna help?”
“No, no, I am,” you hurriedly say, turning away as you start to roll up your sleeves.
You're not going to look at her. Not at the way her forearm flexes when she reaches down to turn on the water, not at the way she bends over to grab some dish soap, and definitely not at the way her shirt tightens across her shoulders.
Yeah, you're definitely not going to look at her. Not at the way her fingers move when she soaps up the dishes, not the way her biceps flex when she bends her elbow, and especially not at the way her hair falls into her face when she scrubs at a stubborn stain.
Why is she so fit?
You look down at your own hands, watching the water and soap bubble up between your fingers. You start washing another dish, trying your absolute hardest to look anywhere except at her.
The minutes tick by in awkward silence, but eventually, your mind starts to wander. After all, washing dishes is pretty damn boring.
You glance over at her again, out of the corner of your eye, watching the way her shoulder blades shift under her shirt. The fabric of her shirt is stretched taut against her shoulders, and you wonder what she looks like under it if she still has all the same muscles....
Yeah, okay, you really have to stop staring at her.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Well, so much for not looking at her. Your head snaps up at the sound of her voice, and you force yourself to just focus on scrubbing at the glass in your hands.
“Depends what the question is,” you grumble, shifting a little.
You expect her to ask you something about your current life or something generic. What happened when you were gone, what life was like where you were?
Instead, she asks something completely left-field.
“Do you ever think about us?”
You tense up, the glass in your hands slipping a little in your grip. You were not expecting that question. Hell no, you were literally not expecting that question.
How are you supposed to answer that? yes? no? sometimes?
What was she even expecting to hear? did she want you to say yes, to say that you always thought about her, that you would've come back to her in a heartbeat if you could've? or did she just want to hear you say no, to hear that you moved on, that you had to move on because it was either that or let yourself fall apart?
‘Sometimes’ was definitely not the answer you would've given months ago.
Now, though? you would admit that sometimes, after a rough morning or a particularly lonely night, you'd let yourself think about her. You'd remember those nights you spent in her apartment, on her shitty couch, talking her ear off about everything and nothing, the nights where the two of you would sit on the couch and watch tv, her head resting on your shoulder, and you'd wonder if maybe... just maybe..
You wonder if she thinks about that kind of stuff too, if you cross her mind late at night when she's alone. You wonder if she still thinks about the nights where you would stay in bed together, talking for hours after a particularly good round, your head resting on her chest as she played with your hair, or the mornings where you'd wake up and find her making breakfast for you.
Yeah, you thought about her a lot.
But you couldn't say that to her. You can't tell her that you think about it all the time, about how sometimes you can't fall asleep because you miss the feeling of laying in bed with her, about how you always find your hands searching for her in the middle of the night. No, you absolutely cannot tell her that, no matter how badly you wanted to.
“I used to,” you say instead of letting your thoughts wander any farther. “Not anymore.”
You keep scrubbing, even after there's no longer any more dirt on the glass. Just so you have a reason not to look at her, just so you have a shield from the thoughts you know are brewing in her quiet mind.
She's quiet for a moment, and you can feel her looking at you. Looking at you, reading you, trying to figure out if you're telling the truth or not.
After a few moments, she takes a breath like she's going to speak, but then stops herself. It's something you're all too familiar with. She's overthinking something, that much is obvious. She's trying to pick her words carefully, and damn, you just wish she'd spit it out.
The silence feels like it's been going on for a year, but really, it was only around a minute. Your knuckles are turning white from how tightly you're gripping the glass you're washing, and your shoulders are beginning to ache from how tense you are.
“What about you?” you murmur. “Do you... do you think about us?” You force yourself to look over at her, and you instantly wish you hadn't.
She's not looking at you now, she's not watching you suspiciously or anything like that. No, instead she's looking down, staring at the soapy water, and avoiding eye contact with you.
She's quiet for a second, her hands pausing in their scrubbing. “Yeah,” she finally says, “I do.”
Damn it. Her answer goes straight to your gut and twists deep inside you.
You were absolutely expecting a solid “no”, hell, you were even preparing yourself for a cruel “god, no.”
Anything, anything other than “I do.”
She continues scrubbing at a plate as if she hasn't just turned your world upside down. How are you supposed to react to her answer? do you say something, do you not say something?
“Why?” the question leaves your lips before you can stop yourself.
“Why do you think so?”
You don't say anything, you just shrug your shoulders. You genuinely don't know. You'd just blurted out the question without actually knowing what you wanted the answer to be.
Her eyes linger on yours for a few seconds, and you can't quite read them. She looks like she wants to say something, she looks like she wants to reach out and hold you, and you'd bet real money that if circumstances were different, she would've done exactly that.
Instead, she just averts her gaze back to the sink and lets out a sigh. “I don't know... I just do.”
You go back to scrubbing dishes. It's obvious there are a million things that you want to say, that you need to say.
“Oh,” is all you say in response, and the word hangs in the air awkwardly.
You're both quiet for a few minutes after that. It's quiet, except for the faint music playing in the background and the sounds of dishes clinking against one another.
A few times, you catch yourself glancing over at her, trying to pick up any hint of what she could be thinking, what she might say next. But, every time, she stubbornly keeps her eyes down on the dishes she's scrubbing. It's frustrating, the way she just won't look at you, and what pisses you off most is the fact that you understand why she won't look at you.
You have a feeling that if she were to look at you, if she were to meet your eyes right now, she'd either burst into tears or shove you into a storage closet and kiss you until your lungs burned.
You don't know which one would be worse.
It's so quiet, so awkward. You're both just scrubbing and scrubbing, refusing to look at the other.
Every time she takes a breath, you look over at her, convinced she's about to speak. But, time and time again, she doesn't, and the only sound to come from her is a shaky exhale.
It's maddening.
The sound of Claggor's voice finally breaks the stifling silence, and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. He peeks his head into the kitchen, grinning widely. “Yo, you two almost done here? Powder is about to get impatient.”
You're thankful for the interruption, and judging by the look on Vi's face, so is she.
“Yeah, we're done,” Vi mutters, glancing up from the dish she's been washing for the last ten minutes.
You dry your hands off on a nearby towel, trying to look unaffected. “We're finished.”
Claggor grins again, “Thank God, Powder is about to start biting people.” He laughs, then disappears back into the main room.
“That sounds like her,” she says with a chuckle, scrubbing her hands off on a towel.
“Guest we should head out there then,” you murmur, trying to get her to actually look at you.
She hesitates for a second, still running the towel over her hands even though they're no longer wet. She looks down for a moment as if she's contemplating something, then finally lifts her head to look at you.
Her jaw is tense like she's forcing herself to stay quiet. After a few seconds, her features soften a little. “Yeah.”
You want to ask her what she's thinking, you want to ask her why. Instead, you just push the door of the kitchen open and gesture for her to go first.
—
“Now that we've had an amazing dinner, it's time for the best part of the night.”
Everyone gathers around, now sitting either on the couch or on the floor. Powder and Mylo immediately get squished together on the floor. Powder mutters under her breath, “Hey! you're shoving me!”
“Only because you're taking up too much space.”
Vander smiles from his spot on the couch. “Alright! It's time for secret santa. Everyone remembers who they drew, right?”
A group of nods and hums go around as everyone pulls out the slips of paper that have the names they drew.
Vander clasps his hands together. “Good!” he says as he looks around the room, his smile getting wider. “Who wants to go first?”
A few seconds of silence, then Powder’s hand shoots up. As always, she's the most excited one. “me!”
Vander laughs. “Well, look at that, our little girl is so eager. Okay, you can go first, Pow-Pow.”
Powder smiles and scrambles off the floor, almost tripping over herself as she pulls a present from beneath the Christmas tree. She glances down at the tag and grins.
She then scans the room with a giddy smile, then her eyes land on Silco.
She bounds over to him, practically shoving the present into his hands as she sits down on the floor next to his legs.
Silco smiles faintly as he takes the present. “Alright, let's see what you got me, hm?” He's quiet as he carefully unwraps the present, and Powder watches him who barely contains her excitement.
After a moment, the wrapping paper is set aside, and the present is now fully unwrapped. It's just a little box, though Silco is curious as to what's inside.
He glances at Powder as he takes the lid off the box, looking a little wary. Powder just grins at him. “Go on, open it,” she encourages.
He looks back at the box and, with a little nod, reaches in and pulls out the item inside. He holds it in his hands and looks at it curiously, then looks at Powdr with a raised eyebrow.
She's still grinning, and she looks extremely pleased with herself. Mylo glances over to look and snorts out a laugh. “Would you look at that?”
Silco looks at the item in his hands, then looks at Powder again. “You got me…” he begins, trying to sound unimpressed. “...a little shark plushie?”
Powder nods, her grin getting wider, still very pleased with herself. “Yep!” she exclaims, “I got you a little shark plushie. You like it, right?”
Silco glances at the plushie and then at her again, looking vaguely fond. He carefully sets it down on his lap, then smiles a little.
“I adore it.”
Her grin somehow widens even more. She's clearly happy with herself. Silco chuckles a little under his breath, then looks around. “Who's next?”
Claggor shrugs, raising a hand. “I'll go,” he offers, to which Vander nods.
“Go ahead, Claggs,” he says approvingly.
Claggor gets to his feet from his spot on the floor, then moves to the tree. He crouches down and rummages around, looking for the present with the correct name tag.
A minute passes as a few minutes go by. He eventually stands back up, a small present in his hands. He looks around the room, then his eyes land on Mylo, who's now lying down on the floor and looking very bored.
Claggor moves over to him, tossing the present into his lap. Mylo looks up and catches the present, shooting him a glare. “You couldn't have done that a little nicer?” he complains while sitting up.
Claggor just shrugs and gives him a flat look. “Suck it up,” he tells him bluntly before sitting back down.
Mylo scoffs and begins to unwrap the present, ripping the wrapping paper off carelessly. He tosses the wrapping paper away, then looks down at the present as he tears the box open. He's quiet for a moment, looking at the contents...
..and then he groans, covering his face.
“Oh, come the hell on,” he grumbles, though he sounds more whiny than anything else. He glances up from his hands to give Claggor a withering look.
“Dude, seriously?”
“What?”
Mylo just sighs, shooting the toy in the box with a dismayed look. “Really? a stress ball?”
Claggor shrugs. “I thought it was a good idea,” he says, clearly not bothered by Mylo's unimpressed tone. “And you seem to be lacking a bit in the stress management department.”
“Well, excuse me for being a bit stressed when you're being a dick.”
“See, you need the stress ball. You proved my point right there.”
Mylo just groans and throws his head back. He picks up the stress ball and squeezes it hard. “I hate you.”
Claggor merely grins. “I love you too.”
Mylo mutters something under his breath, too quiet for anyone to hear, then looks up as he addresses the group. “So, who's up next? I'm sure there's some poor sap itching to go.”
Silco raises a hand. “I'll go next,” he offers.
Everyone glances at him, then nods and gestures for him to go. He gets up off the couch and saunters to the tree. He scans the presents beneath it, moving a few aside to find the one he was looking for.
He finally finds it and smirks to himself, grabbing the present and standing up. His eyes sweep over the group, taking in everyone's expressions. He then turns and walks over to Vander, holding the present out to him.
Vander glances at the present, then at Silco, taking the present and curiously giving it a little shake. “What is it?” he asks curiously.
Silco just grins in a vaguely irritating way and sits back down. “Just open it,” he replies, his voice dripping with innocence.
Vander raises an eyebrow but begins to unwrap the present meticulously, occasionally shooting Silco a glance, as if expecting something. He peels away the wrapping paper to reveal a small box, then looks at Silco, his eyes questioning.
Silco simply shrugs and gestures for him to go on. Vander quirks another eyebrow up but opens the box anyway, now a little intrigued.
Then a snort finally escapes him. He's now fighting to hold back laughter.
Mylo sits up suddenly, looking at Vander, then at Silco, curiosity in his eyes. “What? What is it?” he asks eagerly.
Vander doesn't answer for a moment. He's still staring into the box, looking like he can't believe what he's seeing.
He then looks up at Silco. “Please tell me you're joking,” he implores.
Silco's smile widens even more. “I couldn't be more serious,” he replies.
Vander lets out a long, suffering sigh, then digs through the tissue paper and pulls something out of the box.
It's a pair of comically large underwear, one that could practically fit an entire person inside of it.
Vander groans, holding the underwear up and staring at them with slight disgust.
Mylo and Powder both start laughing once they register what the present is. Powder laughs so hard she nearly falls over, clutching her stomach as she howls with laughter.
Vi's eyes widen at the sight of the underwear, her mouth dropping open a little in surprise. As much as it pains her to admit it... she just knows the jokes that Silco is going to start making any minute now.
…and she's right.
“You see, I thought it was a necessary gift.”
“Necessary?” Vander repeats, still holding the underwear up in disbelief.
Silco just nods. “Of course. you're getting old, and as you get older... accidents happen.”
“I'm not that old,” Vander grumbles, though he knows it's probably not the best argument.
Silco smirks, raising a hand and waving it dismissively. “Oh, you know what I mean. Things begin to... fail as you age. I simply wanted to make sure you had a spare pair.”
Mylo is now practically rolling on the floor, clutching his sides. “Oh, my god, I can't breathe—this is—this is gold,” he wheezes. Powder is laughing so hard she's choking, practically coughing her lungs up.
Vander sighs again, looking down at the underwear in his hands. He looks like he wants to throw it into the fire and destroy it right there.
He glances up at Silco, giving him a look that clearly says, 'I will get you back for this'.
Silco leans back against the couch and crosses an ankle over his knee, looking all too pleased with himself. “What? You don't like them? I personally thought they were a good choice.”
Vander opens his mouth to reply, but Powder interrupts him.
“Oh, god,” Powder chokes out, “you should try them on. They'd look perfect on you.”
Vander shoots Powder a glare to kill. “No way in hell,” he mutters firmly, folding his arms and sitting back.
But Powder’s not done. “Come on, just try them on,” she wheezes. “It really would be a look for you.”
Vander turns his glare to Powder, his expression clearly saying, 'I will murder you if you keep talking.'
“No,” he replies through gritted teeth.
Even Silco is starting to look amused.
“Just for a second,” she teases, “come on, just long enough for us to see. We won't even say anything.”
Vander lets out another long, suffering sigh.
He shoots a sneering look at both Silco and Powder. Eventually he lets out an exasperated grumble and stands up, mumbling something under his breath as he heads into the bathroom with the underwear.
Mylo falls back onto the floor, clutching his stomach.
Silco is laughing too, watching as Vander heads to the bathroom to change.
Mylo is dying of laughter, gasping for air in between wheezes. “Holy shit,” he chokes out. “He's really doing it.”
It takes a few minutes, but eventually the bathroom door swings open and Vander exits, looking like he regrets every decision he's made that led him to this.
His face is as red as a tomato as he stomps back over to them in the gigantic underwear.
Mylo and Powder are losing it again, falling over and rolling on the floor with laughter.
Silco is smiling, trying to stifle a laugh. “Oh my,” he says, barely containing his amusement. “They look even better than I imagined,” he comments.
Vander can hardly look anyone in the eye, still red with embarrassment. “I hate you. I hate you all.”
Claggor looks at Silco and Powder, clearly trying not to laugh. “You guys are terrible,” he says, a trace of a smile on his face.
Vi can't hold back her laughter anymore, she's grinning from ear to ear. “You look... perfect,” she comments through a strangled chuckle.
Vander turns his glare on her, still red with embarrassment. “I hate you all,” he repeats, shaking his head.
Powder is still giggling from the floor. “I want pictures,” she wheezes, holding up her phone.
Vander looks like he wants to smack her head off. “Absolutely not. I forbid it,” he snaps, sounding as serious as someone wearing comically large underwear can.
Powder just pouts, lowering her phone. “Oh, come on,” she says with a whine, looking up at Vander with puppy-dog eyes. “Just a few.”
“No, I'm not having pictures of me in these... embarrassing things circulating the internet.”
“The internet? Who said anything about the internet?” she replies, a smirk on her face. “I just meant... a few for my own personal, um, research.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but Silco chimes in first. “Oh, come on. Humor her. It's the season of giving.”
Vander turns his glare to Silco, his expression almost murderous. “There's no way in hell—”
“Pleeeease?” Powder interrupts, holding out her phone again.
Vander looks like he's about to argue, but Powder is already giving him those damn puppy-dog eyes that he struggles to resist.
He hesitates, then, with a grumble, he sighs. “Fine, one picture.”
Powder looks like a kid on Christmas. The instant the word 'picture' leaves Vander's mouth, she leaps to her feet and lifts up her phone.
“Stand up straighter.”
Vander obeys, reluctantly straightening up.
“Say cheese,” she grins.
Vander grumbles under his breath, but he cooperates. “Cheese,” he mutters, putting on a strained smile.
Powder snaps the picture, then lowers her phone and looks at it with a satisfied smile. “Oh yeah, you're getting on the naughty list for this one,” she grins, wiggling the phone a little.
Once the picture-taking is over and Vander changes his clothes back, Silco motions for Powder to settle down.
“Alright, settle down. It's time to continue with the secret Santa,” Silco says, looking at the others.
They all nod in agreement, still snickering but mostly focusing on the present exchange.
“Who wants to go next?” Silco asks, looking around the group.
Mylo looks around, then grins. “My turn.”
Powder rolls her eyes, knowing that look on his face all too well. “Here we go,” she mutters under her breath, preparing herself for whatever nonsense Mylo is about to come up with.
Mylo smirks, holding up his present. “Well, I drew someone's name... and it was a pretty easy choice.” He then looks around the group with mock innocence. “Oh, where's my victim?”
Claggor lets out a defeated sigh. “Who exactly is the unlucky person this year?”
“There's only one person who I could have possibly chosen…”
“Would you just spit it out before the suspense kills me?” Powder snaps, impatient.
Mylo huffs. “Jeez, have some patience,” he grumbles. “Anyway, my secret santa is…”
Vander sighs, looking like he's already regretting this. Claggor puts his head in his hands, bracing himself.
“My secret santa is, drumroll please…” they reluctantly drum their hands against any surface near them. “My very special secret Santa is…”
Claggor covers his face with his hands, looking like he's praying.
Mylo grins, looking from face to face, savoring the moment before he does the big reveal.
“My secret Santa... is Powder!”
“Fuck!” she groans, burying her head in her hands.
“Aww, what's the matter, Pow?” Mylo grins, holding up the wrapped present.
Powder lets out another groan, glaring up at him. “You're the worst,” she mutters, looking like she's praying to any god out there to just put her out of her misery already.
Mylo grins, clearly getting a kick out of her misfortune. “Come on, don't be like that. It could be worse, I could have gotten you a box of spiders,” Mylo teases, shaking the present in her direction.
Powder looks like she's seriously considering that as a better option. “You know what? Give me the spiders. Spiders would be better than whatever it is you got me.”
“Nice try. You're not getting out of it that easily,” he says, holding the present just out of her reach. “You have to open it, come on.”
Powder grumbles in protest, then reluctantly reaches out for the present. She snatches it out of his hands, shooting him a glare. “If I die from this, I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your life,” she mutters, slowly tearing the wrapping paper.
Then, Powder tears back the last piece of wrapping paper, revealing a plain black box. “What the hell is this?” she mutters, looking like she's already fed up with whatever shenanigans Mylo has come up with.
“You're going to have to open it and see for yourself.”
Powder grumbles, giving Mylo a glare that could freeze hell over. She slowly opens the black box, not sure what to expect.
“Please tell me this is not what I think it is,” she mutters, looking like she's two seconds away from throwing the entire box at Mylo's head.
The others lean in closer, curiosity getting the better of them.
“You did not get me what I think you got me.”
“Oh, you're going to have to be more specific than that,” he replies, trying to hide his smirk.
Powder glares at him, her jaw clenching. “You know what I'm talking about,” she snaps, looking like she's contemplating dumping the contents of the box over his head.
Mylo just shrugs, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I honestly have no idea what you're talking about.”
Vander just rubs his face with one hand, knowing that this situation is about to spiral out of control.
“You're telling me,” Powder hisses through clenched teeth, “that you didn't get me exactly what I think you got me?”
“Like I said, you'll have to be a bit more specific,” he responds, looking entirely too smug for his own good.
Powder looks like she's about to explode. “Mylo, I swear to-”
Claggor cuts her off, knowing that she's about to blow her top. “Calm down, Powder,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“I'll calm down when the box goes straight over his head.”
“Why so angry? I thought you'd be excited.”
“I can't wait to make you eat that box,” she mutters, her hands clenching into fists.
“Oh, I'm so scared.”
Vander interjects, trying to diffuse the tension. “That's enough. No need to start throwing things around.”
“I was just having fun.”
“Yeah, have fun with a black eye.”
“Enough,” Silco says, giving both Powder and Mylo stern looks.
Both Mylo and Powder grumble, reluctantly backing down a bit.
“Can we all just get back to opening presents, please?” Vander asks, sounding exasperated.
The others nod in agreement, though Powder still looks like she's not done with Mylo yet. She glares at him one last time before reluctantly returning to her seat.
Mylo just grins, clearly enjoying having gotten the last word in. He takes his own seat next to Claggor, looking very pleased with himself.
The others exchange glances, silently agreeing to not let Powder and Mylo be too close to each other for the rest of the evening.
Silco clears his throat, getting everyone's attention. “Now, who's next?” he asks, looking around the room.
Vander nods, leaning back in his seat. “I'm up next, I guess,” he mutters. He rummages at the gifts under the Christmas tree. After a few moments of searching, Vander finally finds the present he was looking for. He picks it up, holding it in his lap.
“This one's for you,” he says, handing the present to Claggor.
Claggor takes the present, looking curious. He glances down at it, then looks up at Vander with a soft smile. “Thanks,” he says, starting to unwrap it.
Once the wrapping paper is off, Claggor is holding a box of assorted tools. They range from pliers to wrenches to screwdrivers.
“Just like you requested,” Vander says, watching as Claggor starts inspecting the tools.
“Wow, these are great. Thanks, dad,” he replies, running a hand over the tools in the box.
Vander smiles, clearly pleased to see that Claggor likes his present. “I thought you'd like them. I saw them at the pawnshop the other day and figured you could use them.”
“I definitely will. These are a huge upgrade compared to what I have now.”
Vander reaches over and pats Claggor on the shoulder. “You deserve it. You've been working your ass off lately.”
Vander looks around the room, looking for the next person to take their turn. “Alright, who's up next?” he asks, eyeing everyone lazily.
Mylo's head suddenly snaps up, a smirk on his face. “Oh goodie, it's Vi's turn.”
“Come on, Vi, your turn,” Silco says, looking a little amused.
“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses,” she mumbles, getting to her feet and making her way over to the christmas tree.
Vi crouches down, rummaging through the presents. After a few moments, she finally finds the present. She grabs it, standing back up. She looks over at you, looking a little bit like she's been caught doing something she's not supposed to do.
She makes her way over to where you're sitting, holding out the present. “Here, this one's for you,” she mutters, looking a little tense.
You take the present from her, looking down at it. It's heavy in your hands, the wrapping paper slightly crinkled from how hard she was holding it. “Thanks, Vi,” you say, looking up at her.
“Don't mention it, babe,” she mutters, her voice sounding a bit strained.
Powder and Mylo both let out a chorus of ‘aww’ when they heard her use the nickname.
“Shut up, you two,” she says, glaring at them both.
You start unwrapping the present, tearing off the festive wrapping paper to reveal what's inside.
Once the wrapping paper is off, you're holding a small box. It's plain, made of brown cardboard, and doesn't look like much. But as you look back up at Vi, you can see a hint of nervousness on her face.
She's watching you intently, her expression almost anxious. It's a look you don't often see on her face, and it's a little startling.
Still curious, you glance back down at the box in your hands. You lift off the lid, opening it slowly.
There, nestled in a bed of tissue paper, is a necklace. It's a silver chain with a small silver heart pendant. It looks delicate and beautiful, and judging by the look on Vi's face, she spent a lot of time picking it out.
You slowly reach into the box, lifting the necklace out of the tissue paper. You hold it up, letting the chain dangle from your fingers. It glints in the light, the pendants catching the glow from the Christmas tree lights.
Vi is still watching you intently, her eyes fixed on the necklace. She shifts a little on her feet, looking like she's holding her breath.
“Do you like it?”
You look up from the necklace, meeting her gaze. “Yeah, I do,” you respond, your voice just a little bit shaky. “It's beautiful.”
You hold the necklace in your hand, running your thumb over the pendant. Without even thinking, you reach up and clasp the necklace around your neck.
It fits snugly against your skin, the pendant resting on your collarbone.
You look up, catching Vi watching you as you adjust the necklace. “Looks good on you,” she says, her voice lower than usual.
“Thanks,” you reply, still running your thumb over the pendant.
Mylo and Powder both let out another chorus of ‘aww’ clearly touched by the sight.
Vi shoots them another glare, her eyes narrowing. “Would you two shut up, for Christ's sake?”
“Oh, come on, sis. It's cute” Powder teases.
“Ah, young love,” Silco says.
Vander chuckles, nodding his head. “I remember my younger days.”
“Don't you mean your younger hookups?” Silco shoots back.
Vander grins, holding his hands up. “Guilty as charged.”
Silco laughs, shaking his head. “Some things never change.” Then, he glances around the room, looking for who's turn it is next. “Lasty, who's next?” he asks, looking at everyone present.
You look around, seeing that almost everyone has given out their gift. It's obvious that your turn is next. “I'm up next.”
You get to your feet, making your way over to where the presents are. then you hold the present in your hands, not looking up quite yet. You can feel Vi's eyes on you.
This is it. You take a deep breath and look up, meeting her gaze.
You walk over to her, your heart beating a little faster. You feel a little bit nervous, but you try to push it down.
You stop in front of her, holding out the present. “Here you go, babe.”
Vi's expression softens a bit, her eyes darting down to the gift in your hands. She reaches out and grabs it, looking slightly puzzled.
You watch silently as she unwraps the gift.
Vi looks at it, her eyebrows raised. “Is this... a sweater?” she asks, a little bewildered. It's clearly hand-knit, with uneven stitching and a clashing color scheme.
“I made it myself,”
“You made it?” she asks. “Like, with your own two hands?”
“Obviously..”
“I mean... it's…” she starts, her voice trailing off as she tries to find the right words.
“It's hideous?” you suggest.
She winces a little, looking like she can't deny it. “Yeah, kinda…” she mutters.
“Hey,” you say, mock-indignant. “I spent a lot of time making that, you know.”
“I can tell.”
“Then, try it on.”
Vi hesitates for a moment, looking at you a little warily. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” you nudge her. “Just try it on, for me.”
She sighs, clearly realizing there's no way out of this. “Fine.”
She pulls it over her head, struggling a bit to get her arms through the sleeves. The fit is a little awkward, and the sweater seems a little too small. But somehow, it kind of makes her look... cute?
She tugs at the sleeves, looking down at herself. “How do I look?”
You pretend to look her over, like you're seriously considering the question. “I dunno,” you reply. “it's... something.”
“Be serious. I look like an idiot, don't I?”
“Don't be like that” you tease, reaching out to straighten the collar of the sweater. “It's not that bad.”
“Not ‘that bad?’” she repeats. “Are you kidding? I look like a walking christmas tree,” she groans, tugging at the sleeves yet again.
“I think you look…. fine”
“That's the best you've got? 'fine?'”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don't know,” she mutters, sounding slightly petulant. “Something more than just 'fine’”
“Okay, okay,” you say, holding up your hands. “Let me rephrase that, you look…” you pause, scratching your chin “...very christmas-y”
“You really know how to boost a girl's ego.”
“I didn't realize you needed your ego stroked.”
“I don't,” she protests, a little flustered. “I'm just saying, a little bit more enthusiasm would be appreciated.”
Silco clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention. “Ahem, now that the present giving is concluded…” he glances around at the crowd.
Silence falls over the room as everyone waits for Silco to speak. The tick-tock of the grandfather clock is the only sound that can be heard.
Silco glances at the clock, a smile on his face. “It appears to be midnight,” he says, pausing for emphasis. “Which means…”
A chorus of “Merry Christmas!” rises up from the group, everyone sounding festive and cheerful.
You look back to Vi, who is still fiddling with the sweater. “Merry Christmas,” you whisper, not wanting the others to hear.
She glances at you, a small smile touching her lips. “Merry Christmas to you too,” she replies, her voice just as quiet as yours.
Awkwardly you glance down at the carpet, unsure of what to say next.
“Hey,” she says suddenly, her voice drawing your attention. “Can I talk to you for a second…? In private?”
“Sure,” you agree, following her as she leads you away from the group.
She leads you into a small back room, closing the door behind her. The room is dimly lit, with only a few bare light bulbs lining the walls. Aside from a few boxes and some old crates, the room is empty.
She turns to face you, leaning against the wall. She's quiet for a moment, her gaze averted to the floor. you can tell she's trying to find the right words, fiddling with the hem of the sweater again.
“Listen,” she begins, finally meeting your eyes. “I know this is weird, and I know things are... difficult right now. But…” she pauses, letting out a short sigh. “I just want to say one thing…”
“Go on,” you encourage.
“I…” she starts, then falters. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, nervousness flitting across her features. Her gaze drops to the floor.
“Well, I just…” her fingers fumble at the edge of her sweater. “I just... I miss you.”
Your heart skips a beat as she finally says the words out loud.
You've been wanting her to say that for weeks, months even. After everything that's happened between the two of you, you desperately wanted to hear those very words fall from her lips. But now that she's saying it...
What the hell do you say to that?
You're speechless, stunned into silence by her honesty. You open your mouth, intending to say something, anything. but words seem completely lost to you at this point. You just stand there, staring at her, dumbfounded.
“Say something,” she finally says, her voice tense. “Say anything. You're just staring at me like an idiot.”
“I don't know what to say.” Because, you really don't know what to say. You have so much you want to say, but somehow the words get stuck in your throat.
“Say you hate me. Say you never want to get back together. Just... say something.”
She's waiting. Waiting for something, anything. An opinion, a response. something, anything from you. But what can you say? Do you tell her the truth—that you've missed her so much you can't even sleep at night? that the last month has felt like a living hell, having no contact with her?
You want to tell her that you hate her for throwing you away just to come back around wanting something from you again, but your tongue feels like cotton.
“Say something… yell at me, curse me out, anything!”
But her tone gets under your skin, and suddenly you feel the anger start to build inside of you.
Who does she think she is, demanding a response from you? she's the one who tossed you aside without a second thought. You're sick of this. You've done everything for her, given her everything she wanted, and here she is, pushing you for more.
It is too much—all too much. Without a word, you turn from her, heading toward the door. You can't do this anymore.
You hear her call out your name as you shove open the door, but you don't stop. You make your way back, stopping at Vander's side.
“Vander, I'm going to head out.”
Vander nods, giving you a knowing look. He can tell something's going on, but he's wise enough not to press the issue.
“Alright, kid,” he says gruffly. “Get some rest, yeah?”
You nod your head, forcing a smile onto your face. “Yeah, I'll try,” you mutter, giving him a wave before starting towards the exit.
When you pass by Silco, he gives you a curious look. You catch his gaze and give him a small nod.
Finally, you make your way out the front door. The cold night air hits your face, making you shiver. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the walk home.
But then you hear the door swing open behind you, her footsteps hurry after you.
“Wait!” her voice calls out. “Wait, stop!”
You keep walking, your steps quick. You're trying to get as far away from her as possible to outrun all of the feelings that came rushing back to you—
“Let me walk you home.”
Her words cut through your thoughts, sharp and unexpected. You falter, your steps slowing down.
You stop walking, turning around to face her. “What?”
She's standing there, looking like a kicked puppy. Her shoulders are slumped, her expression sheepish. She can tell you're not happy she's followed you out here, but she looks like she doesn't care.
She lets out a huff, her breath coming out in a white cloud in the cold air. “I just... look, whatever happened in there, whatever happened between us... just let me look out for you. Just let me walk you home. I.. I have to know you're safe.”
“I don't need a babysitter,” you practically growl, your irritation obvious. “I can handle myself.”
Vi flinches at your words, but she doesn't back down. If anything, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “I know you can,” she snaps. “I'm not offering to babysit you. I'm just... I'm just asking to walk you home.”
You glance back at the entrance of their house, the warm lights and sounds spilling out into the cold night air.
You turn back to look at her, your voice softer this time. “You don't have to walk me home. We don't have to keep up the act anymore, I'm going home and... you've got better things to do than worry about me.”
“Screw the act,” she mutters. “I'm walking you home. It's not up for debate.”
You stare at her, baffled by her insistence. “Seriously? What's the point, Vi? We're not together anymore. Why bother?”
Her jaw clenches, her shoulders tensing. You know she hates this. She hates hearing you say it. Her heart is on her sleeve, and you're tearing pieces out of it, right in front of her.
“Because I care!” she snaps. “Maybe it's hard for you to believe, but I still care about you.”
You shake your head, scoffing at her words. “No, no, no, you don't get to act like you care now. You're the one who broke up with me. You're the one who walked away and left me.”
“I made a mistake,okay? I was a damn idiot, and I screwed up.”
“A mistake?” you echo, scoffing again. “You ended everything, and now you want to walk me home? What, you think that makes up for everything? You think it’s that easy? You threw away everything we had like it meant nothing, like all those months we spent together meant nothing.”
Your voice is trembling with anger as you continue. “And then what did you do? You went around, throwing yourself at anyone that gave you a second glance, like I never meant anything to you. Yeah, I know all about that. So don't try to act like you actually care when you clearly didn't give two shits.”
She looks away, her jaw clenching. “I was trying to get over you. I was trying to push you out of my head and it hurts like hell. Every night, every morning, it was like there was a hole inside of me, and no matter how hard I tried to fill it, no matter how many times I went out, how many times I tried to forget you, nothing worked. You were stuck in my head, and I hated it.”
She takes a step closer to you. “I know it sounds stupid. I know it doesn't make any sense. I just... I needed something to distract me, something to keep me from thinking about you. Because it hurt too damn much to think about how much I messed things up.”
“Yeah, congrats. You did a damn good job at distracting yourself, huh? It sure as hell didn't take you very long to get over me.”
She winces again, the guilt written all over her face. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to reach out to you. How many times I thought about coming back to you and begging you to take me back.”
“But you didn't,” you say. “You didn't reach out to me, you didn't try to fix things. So why should I believe you now? Why should I believe that you're sincere when you didn't care enough to fight for us before?”
She looks down, unable to meet your gaze. “What was I supposed to do?” she whispers. “I messed up. I messed things up and I don't know how to fix it. I don’t know how to take back what I did, how to make things like they were before I messed up. All I know is that I miss you. I miss you so damn much, and I’d do anything to have you back.”
You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. Everything she's saying, it's everything you've wanted to hear for months. It feels like a dream.
But you can’t let yourself fall back into this. Not when you’ve worked so hard to move on. Not when you’ve spent so many nights crying into your pillow, reminding yourself that she didn’t care enough to fix things, to fight for you.
“Why now—Why do you want me back now, after all this time? Why didn’t you want me back when it mattered, when I needed you?”
She looks up at you, desperation in her eyes. “Because I was an idiot! Because I was stupid, and scared, and I thought walking away would make it easier, but it just made it worse. Because I spent every damn night regretting that I let you go and wishing that I could take it all back. I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry for what I put you through.”
“Sorry doesn't fix things,” you say, your voice shaking. “Sorry doesn't take away the pain, sorry doesn't undo what you did.”
She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I know saying sorry won't magically fix things, but I am sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for walking away, I'm sorry for everything I did wrong. Just... just give me a chance. Give me a chance to make things right.”
She takes another step forward, her eyes pleading. “Give me a chance. Let me prove to you that I love you and that I want to make things right. If I screw up again, you can toss me to the curb and never speak to me again. But please, just give me one more chance.”
“I don't know,” you murmur. “I just... I don't know.”
“I'll do anything. I'll get on my knees every day if I have to. I'll beg on my hands and knees. I'll crawl on my hands and knees. I'll grovel on the ground. Just... please, just give me one chance.”
“I'll think about it. Just...just give me some time to think things over.”
“Okay, okay. I'll give you time or whatever you need. Just please don’t shut me out completely.”
Without hesitation, she envelops you in a tight hug. Her arms wrap around your waist, her face burying into your neck. Her body clings to you, every part of her desperate and needy. “I miss you so much,” she mumbles.
You stand awkwardly, unsure of what to do. But then, your body betrays you, your arms slowly wrapping around her.
For the first time in a long while, you're holding her again. Her warmth, her scent, her touch—it’s all so familiar, so painfully familiar. So damn familiar that it hurts.
“I hate you.”
“I don't blame you,” she pulls back a little, her hands coming up to cup your face.
She lifts her hand, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. “I hate you so much,” you repeat, a tear falling down your cheek.
“I deserve that,” she says, her thumbs gently wiping away your tear.
“Damn right you do.”
You have no idea what to do or what to feel. Everything is a mess, and you're drowning in it.
For now, all you could do was hold her tight and bury your face in her shoulder.
You hated how good she felt against you and how right it felt to be held by her. You hated the way your heart skipped a beat whenever she whispered in your ear.
Damn her for making things so confusing, for making you feel so damn much.
You felt her hand rubbing your back, her fingers tracing circles over your skin. It was a soothing gesture, a silent apology for all the pain she had caused. It only made things worse, making your heart ache even more.
If only things had been different. If only she had been more communicative. If only she had been more sensitive to your feelings. If only she had been there for you when you needed her.
If only she hadn’t walked away and left you broken. If only she hadn’t hurt you the way she had.
And most of all, if only you had been strong enough to push her away and protect yourself from this mess.
But here you are, standing in the middle of a street wrapped in her arms. You felt like a fool, like a damn idiot, for still wanting her after everything.
You wanted to hate her, you wanted to make her suffer the way you had suffered.
But how could you hate her when she was looking at you like that? how could you hate her when she was holding you like this?
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she still had this kind of effect on you.
Her eyes met yours, and you saw everything you had missed, everything you had longed for. and you knew, right then, that you were in damn trouble.
—
In the window, Vander and Silco watched you and Vi from afar, the soft glow of the christmas lights casting shadows over their faces.
Silco takes a drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him as he exhales. “Your little plan worked quite well,” he says, looking at Vander with a sly smile.
Vander just shrugs, sipping his drink. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he replies, keeping his expression neutral.
“You're not fooling anyone.”
Vander hums, taking another sip of his drink. “I don't know what you mean,” he says again, keeping his gaze locked on you and Vi.
Silco let out a puff of smoke, a smirk playing on his lips. “Don't play coy, Vander. You knew damn well what you were doing when you rigged that secret santa.”
“I may have had a little influence,” he admits.
“A little influence? oh, don't downplay it. You wanted them back together, and you knew exactly how to make it happen.”
“I have had a hunch that they still cared about each other,” he says, his voice casual. “And plus, I don't want to see Vi moping around for the past months.”
“And we couldn't have that, could we? seeing her moping around like a lovestruck puppy.”
Vander nods. “She was really terrible at hiding it,” he says. “always pacing around, always looking like she lost a puppy.”
Silco takes another drag of his cigarette, blowing rings into the air. “It was painful to watch,” he says, shaking his head.
“It was like watching a kid trying to hide a secret… I just hope they figure things out.”
“I agree,” Silco says, his eyes flickering over to you and Vi. “Hopefully they can work things out.”
Vander hums in agreement. “Only time will tell.”
They watch in silence for a moment, seeing how you and Vi are still holding each other.
“I still wouldn't forgive you for that damn underwear you got me.”
“That was the funniest thing you could have received.”
Vander grumbles, narrowing his eyes at Silco. “I do not find it funny to receive underwear as a gift.”
notes: idk what is happening
mmgnnnggjjhhhh
18+ | afab!reader
you're drooling; body quivering hard as vi slams into your cunt without mercy. she's pulled two orgasms from you already, each one more ruthless than the last. you swore you blacked out for a moment, your whole world disappearing behind a screen of white-hot pleasure.
it's almost too much, the overstimulation has you near choking. it's too much, and it hurts, but it hurts so fucking good.
vi's fingers slide through the slick of your folds, the sudden touch making you jump. they tease at your stretched hole, pried wide around the girth of her strap, and the sensation has you whimpering, hips twitching. then she's rubbing at your clit, swollen and wet, and you hide your scream into the pillow against your chest.
"fuck, you're so pretty," vi rambles, lost in her own pleasurable madness. "so pretty and sweet, clenching me so tight."
her name is lost on your tongue as every drive in of her hips leaves you speechless. she's so deep, she's hitting it rough and she won't stop rubbing at your clit—
your mouth falls open with a silent scream, body convulsing as you gush around vi's cock. you claw at the bedsheets, desperate to ground yourself as you threaten to slip far away.
"good girl," vi praises, still working her hips into your sopping cunt. she lowers herself until she's pressed firmly against your back, her breasts soft on your skin. her thrusts slow to a grind, the movement having you gasping for breath. "good girl."
you mewl pathetically, still shivering from the force of a third orgasm. vi trails tender kisses across the span of your shoulders, sinking them into your skin. it's soothing, calming as you regain your senses that pleasure snatched from you.
it takes a minute before you reach back to pull at vi's harness. you pull at it a few times, weak but determined, and vi hums a puzzled noise into your neck.
"you haven't come yet," you say softly, turning your head to the side so you can look her in the eye. "i...want you to ride my pussy."
vi goes quiet for a moment, and it's only a moment before she's flipping you onto your back.
you smile up at her expression; it's dangerous but also desperate and a little needy. you watch as she rips off the harness and go pilant when she grabs your thighs to spread your legs wide.
you arch your back, a perfect image of debauchery, and vi curses beneath her breath.
you spread your cunt between two fingers, already wet and aching, as you whisper, "please?" with feigned innocence.
vi has you screaming again in less than a minute.
WEEPING THIS IS SO CUTEEEE
𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 southern/cowgirl!vi x sweet little housewife reader *ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 none *ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 hey !! this is just a little drabble i wrote of southern!vi, i'm living for this concept, it's so cute !!
♡︎ 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ♡︎
The boys were all gathered ‘round the corral, elbows slung over the fence, taking a breather after a long, sweaty morning out in the fields. Dust clung to their boots, and the sun beat down with a lazy kind of persistence.
Vi leaned casually against the rail, one arm draped over the top, a piece of straw tucked between her teeth. Her grin was wide and uncontainable — the kind that stretched all the way to her eyes.
And you?
You were up on that horse.
A little unsteady, sure — the saddle creaked beneath you, your knees trembling ever so slightly — but you were up there. Your sundress was tied in knots at the sides to keep it out of the way, sunhat tilted and barely hanging on, wind tugging at your hair. But none of that mattered. Because on your face was the proudest damn smile Vi had ever seen.
“She’s doin’ it,” one of the guys chuckled, squinting into the sun, hand lifted to shade his eyes.
Vi didn’t so much as blink. “Damn right she is.”
With a breath and a little grit, you nudged the horse into a slow, careful walk. You gripped the reins like your life depended on it, your back straight as a board — maybe too straight — but you glowed. You were beaming. Radiant. Like sunlight had found a new favorite place to shine.
When you circled back around, you puffed your chest with the kind of pride that made Vi’s heart skip. “Did y’all see that?”
One of the guys tipped his hat, a playful grin on his face. “Look at you, ridin’ like a pro.”
Vi was already making her way to the gate before you even stopped, arms outstretched to steady you. “Look at her, ridin’ like she owns the whole damn ranch.”
“I do now,” you teased, reaching for her hand as she helped you down.
“Think I’m a real cowgirl yet?”
Vi laughed, low and full of affection, and caught you around the waist, lifting you off the saddle like you didn’t weigh a thing. “You ride that horse, run my house, feed my boys — darlin’, you might just outrank me.”
You laughed too, breathless and warm, leaning into her chest like it was the safest place on earth. “I wanna do it again.”
“Oh, you will,” she promised, brushing a kiss against your temple. “But not ‘til you get some water in you. And maybe a medal.”
You turned toward the boys, arms thrown wide, voice ringing out clear and proud. “Y’all hear that? I’m a medal-worthy cowgirl!”
They hollered and whooped like you’d just roped a wild bull.
And Vi? She just stood there, watching you shine, her chest full to bursting.
Her girl. Her joy. Her heart on horseback.
)))))))))):
𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐓
⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 southern/cowgirl!vi x sweet little housewife reader ⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 none ⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 On a sunbaked afternoon at the ranch, Vi runs the stables with a steady hand and a sharp tongue—until her sweet wife drifts across the yard with biscuits, lemonade, and a smile like salvation. But when one of the ranch hands mouths off with more bitterness than brains, Vi doesn’t hesitate to remind him—and everyone else—exactly who her wife is and what she deserves. ⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 YOO!! here's the 600 followers post! This is pure fluff & i'm so down for southern!vi, it's not even funny. got me kicking my feet and all!! i hope u like it as much as i do :)
♡︎ 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ♡︎
Vi stood tall in the warm afternoon light, one hand perched on her hip, the other draped easy over the sun-bleached fence.
Sweat glistened on her boys’ foreheads as they worked the stables, muscles straining, boots kicking up dry earth. She watched with quiet command, every inch the boss, but calm as still water.
Then, the screen door gave a familiar creak—soft, almost shy—and there you were.
Gliding across the yard like a breeze on a blistering day, your sundress catching the sunlight, swaying around your knees like it had a rhythm all its own.
You carried a tray balanced just right, an offering of cold beers, fresh-squeezed lemonade, and golden biscuits still warm beneath a folded tea towel. You looked like somethin’ out of a daydream, soft and steady, the kind of sight that made folks stop what they were doin’.
“Break time,” you called out, your voice all sugar and sunshine, light enough to melt even the hardest day.
A ripple of gratitude moved through the hands like wind through wheat. Cowboy hats tilted in your direction, rough voices murmured their thanks, and tired smiles cracked open like thunderclouds breaking.
Vi watched you with a pride so big it swelled in her chest, knocking around behind her ribs like a drumbeat. Lord, the way you moved through her world—gentle but strong, kind but not to be underestimated—it took her breath clean away.
That is, until a low mutter broke the spell.
“Must be nice,” one of the younger hands grumbled, the words sharp with spite. “Get to sit in the cool house all day while the rest of us work our asses off.”
Vi’s head turned. Slow. Deliberate.
The warmth in her expression vanished, her jaw setting like stone, a muscle ticking as her eyes locked on the boy.
“Say that again?” she asked, her voice molasses-thick, but with an edge like broken glass.
The boy straightened up fast, eyes wide now, realizing he’d stepped somewhere he shouldn’t. “I just meant—”
“You meant nothin’ but trouble, runnin’ your mouth about my wife,” Vi snapped, stepping forward, boots crunching the dirt like punctuation.
“That woman’s been up since sunrise. Bakes with her bare hands, irons every shirt on this damn ranch, keeps that house cleaner than a prayer, and still makes time to come out here and bring your ungrateful ass a cold drink.”
You blinked, a little stunned, heart thudding at the sudden rise in heat. But Vi turned to you then, and her face softened like the sun slipping behind a cloud.
“Go on, baby. Head back inside. I’ll handle the rest.”
And so you did—cheeks flushed, pride blooming in your chest like a rose in high summer.
Behind you, Vi’s voice curled back around that foolish boy, low and smoky, wrapped in iron.
“Next time you speak on her,” she said, calm as a loaded gun, “you better put some damn respect in it.”
The house was cooler inside, but not by much—just enough to take the edge off the heat.
You set the tray down on the counter, hands still a little shaky, though you weren’t sure if it was from the sun or the way Vi had stood up for you like that, fierce and fearless.
You were rinsing out some lemonade glasses when the screen door creaked again, slow and easy this time. Vi stepped in, wiping her hands on a rag, her shoulders loose now, tension gone with the dust outside.
She crossed the kitchen in a few strides, and before you could turn fully, her arms were sliding around your waist from behind, forehead pressed to the crook of your neck.
“You okay, baby?” she murmured, her voice warm and low.
You nodded, but your breath hitched a little. “Didn’t mean to stir up trouble…”
Vi pulled back just enough to look at you, her hand lifting to gently tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Her eyes were soft now, not a single trace of the fire she’d shown out there—just that steady, grounding kind of love she saved just for you.
“Hey. You didn’t stir nothin’,” she said. “That boy’s mouth did the stirrin’. You just walked out there lookin’ like heaven on a hot day, bringin’ biscuits and sweetness like you always do. And no one—no one—gets to talk about you like you’re anything less than what you are.”
You felt your lip wobble and blinked fast.
Vi smiled, small but sure, and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “You're the heart of this whole place, sugar. They just don’t see it ‘cause they’re too busy lookin’ at the dust on their boots. But I see it. Every damn day.”
You turned then, wrapping your arms around her, pressing your face into her shoulder as her hands rubbed slow, soothing circles across your back.
And in the hush of the kitchen, with the cicadas singing outside and Vi’s breath steady in your ear, you felt the kind of safe that only comes from bein’ known—and protected—down to your bones.
i’m a stone top vi truther 🫡
SHE GETS THE JOB DONE! • VI
🎵: The Giver by Chappell Roan
CONTENTS: modern au, afab reader, female reader, smut, pillow princess reader, stone top Vi, don’t interact if you don’t like that!
SUMMARY: headcanons about stone top Vi x pillow princess reader.
A/N: I wrote this for fun! It’s nothing serious! I’m not assuming anything about Vi! Keep that in mind and enjoy!
Stone top!Vi who honestly thought she’d never find the right partner. Everyone insisted they could “turn her” and it made her so angry. She didn’t want to be turned, she likes who she is!
Stone top!Vi who thought she had died and went to heaven when you showed up. You, a pillow princess, were absolutely perfect for her. You understand her boundaries, because you have your own. The dynamic is perfect!
Stone top!Vi who loves when you bite her during sex. She literally tells you to not bite near her tattoos so the marks are more visible. Whenever she looks in the mirror and sees hickeys all over her neck, she gets so excited. You’re the one who ends up wrecked sometimes, with constant reminders of her, like when she’s rough and you aren’t walking right for a day or two. So when she has a little reminder of you with the bites, it makes her happy.
Stone top!Vi does get rough…pretty often. There’s just something about being able to make love with you that gets her so riled up, and she just needs to get that energy out! She’s such a puppy.
Stone top!Vi who sometimes looks forward to the aftercare more than the actual sex. Depending on how mobile you are afterwards, she’ll run hot baths or showers, then wash your whole body carefully. If you’re not too weak, you do the same for her. She enjoys it, but she also respects when you don’t feel strong enough to do it. She’ll also just get a warm washcloth and clean you in bed so you don’t have to move. She’ll check you over for any injuries every time, even if she wasn’t really rough. She wants to make sure her baby is okay :(
Stone top!Vi who uses sex as stress relief. That’s where the roughness comes in most times. She’ll get home from work and (only if you’re up for it) drag you to the bedroom…you might not make it to the bedroom, actually.
Stone top!Vi who will do anything anywhere. Kitchen? Absolutely. Living room? One of her favorites. Bedroom? Obviously. Bathroom…? She’ll make it work. Car? Another favorite of hers, honestly. She is into anything you ask her to do. Any position, any toy, any location, she’s down for whatever, as long as it makes you happy.
Stone top!Vi who’s service to you go beyond sex. You kind of have her wrapped around your finger. She’s a giver in every way. She loves to make meals for you, buy you nice things every once in a while. The second you mention something hurting (head, back, stomach, etc) she’s all over you, giving you a massage and fetching anything you could possibly need or want.
Stone top!Vi who cries during sex sometimes. She genuinely feels honored that she gets to pleasure you. She’ll just hide her face in your neck and keep doing her thing.
Stone top!Vi who feels absolutely terrible if she hurts you in any way. Maybe she bit you a little too hard, thrusted a little too fast. She feels so guilty. She’ll say “I have one job during sex and I can’t even do it right!” and sometimes it honestly makes you laugh, then she feels better.
Stone top!Vi who gets more needy than you. She’ll be begging to fuck. Girl will literally get down on her knees, which always leads to exactly what she wants.
Stone top!Vi is the master of praise. She just always knows what to say. When it needs to be dirty, she’ll be gross. When it needs to be sweet, she’s nuzzling into you and telling you how good you are, how proud you’re making her.
Stone top!Vi who also loves to be praised. If you ever were to joke about giving her stickers after sex, she’d take you seriously. She just loves when you’re feeling really good and telling her that she’s the one doing it. It makes her dizzy, honestly.
Stone top!Vi who sends you nudes. All the time. Sometimes multiple days in a row. It might just be her abs. But most of the time it’s a lot more :) she likes to keep you on edge and wanting her. It is her job to fulfill your needs sooo…she fulfills them but keeps them existent.
Stone top!Vi has a breeding kink. Argue with the wall.
Stone top!Vi just loves you so much, she’ll do literally anything for you, and that means providing, and providing sometimes means pleasuring :)
JESUS CHRISTTTTT
we know how jealous vi would go down, what are your thoughts on vi x jealous!reader? esp if r got an attitude about it?
ohhhh my god okay no but lets talk about this -- bc ur sooo right anon, there's a lot of jealous!vi (for good reason, she's possessive don't get me wrong) but i feel like if you were to get jealous, she'd get such a kick out of it --
she'd tease you, lean into it for a bit (not far enough to actually upset you, of course) but she likes the way you pout, likes the way you get a little huffy, likes the way you tuck into her side just a bit tighter after she's leaned juuuust a bit too close to another girl at the bar -- maybe she was trying to catch something the other girl was saying ("it was so loud in there, baby! i didn't wanna be rude...") or she was trying to catch a whiff of the perfume the other girl was wearing bc she wanted to buy it for you ("it smelled so good on her but... god, it would smell delicious on you.")
and if you got a bit snappy, if you got a bit petulant, all the better. bc lemme tell you brat tamer!vi is here to play, and here to stay. she'd lean back, watch you work yourself up with her arms crossed, an amused little smirk playing at her lips. and when you're done complaining, she'd cock her head --
"yeah? you all finished?"
you nearly stamp your feet, "i just -- i didn't like it, okay?"
vi chuckles, "i could fill a library with all the things you don't like, pretty girl." she makes her way towards you, slow, steady, in no particular hurry one way or the other, "hot milk, cilantro," she starts to list them off on her fingers, "when i sleep in too late for get up too early," here, she grins, reaching forward to tug your chin towards her, giving your face a tiny shake, "when i talk to other girls at bars..." she murmurs, her body now pressed against yours, and you can feel her -- all of her, pushed against you, crowding you back till you topple onto your sofa, your breath coming in short pants.
"what about all the things i don't like, hm?" she asks, rhetorical. you sigh, licking your lips. she gets down low, props one of her arms across your legs to look up into your eyes, her gaze sharp and steady all at once. "what're you gonna do about those, sweetness?" she asks.
you bite your lips, shrugging.
"well, lucky for you... i've got a few ideas," vi says, grinning as she reaches up to rub a thumb along your bottom lip, a tiny gasp stitching out of you as you let your mouth fall open. your lashes flutter; your glance up to meet her eyes -- they're dark, pupils blown wide as she presses the pad of her thumb passed your willing lips.
"there's the good girl i've been looking for."
hehehehe
Knight!Vi that sits on the edge of your bed during a rainstorm. Her armor had been invasive, getting in the way of an embrace but her presence comforted you regardless. If you’d jump at the thunder, the lightning, her warm gaze would fall on yours. She’d grab the tips of your hair, kissing them gently and hushing you gently. “Your Highness, I assure your safety.” She whispers, trying not to disrupt the silence of your mind. Your room was that of a princess, and perhaps Vi felt a bit out of place, but you made her feel right at home. “Oh, Vi,” You’d mumble, squeezing her hand and trying to keep the meditative state. “I know, your Highness, I know.”
oh my god it’s everywhere
On my hands and knees begging for a fic where vi mocks the readers moans and the reader is super into it
bitch you’re fucking sick in the head. i love it. some kindaaaa spicy, borderline bdsm stuff below so read forth with caution! there’s aftercare tho. and 18+ as always.
vi’s trying to commit this version of you to memory: dazed and fucked out, tears streaking down your cheeks, your hands tensed around fistfuls of the bedsheets. your cunt is spread wide and puffy for her, so slick it damn near glistens in the dim bedroom lighting. dark, angry-looking hickeys decorate your complexion, and vi can’t even remember when she sucked bruises into certain parts of you - had she really spent so much time latched to your left hip? the inside of your wrist?
whatever, it’s not important. shes supposed to be focusing on giving you what you want - what you need. what you’ve been begging for since she’d first bit into the flesh where your shoulder and neck connect. it’s been two orgasms since then, and though you’re certainly more delirious now, drool weeping from the corner of your lips, eyes all faraway, you’ve still managed to keep up with the begging.
“please, vi,” you whisper, “please.”
your watery eyes search her frame, something akin to relief washing over your features when you process the fact that vi’s already slipped into her harness. there’s a wrinkle between your brows when you pout like this, and vi wants to lean over and kiss it.
“so needy,” she says instead, shuffling forward on her knees to settle herself between your legs. “can’t stop begging for it, huh?”
she grins when you nod along with what she’s saying, and through your lust-foggy gaze, you think briefly how hot it is when she smiles like that, lip scar stretching just so.
the thought disappears as quickly as it came, though, because now vi’s pushing the tip of her strap through your folds, moving with ease through the wetness spread through your twitching cunt.
“fuuuuck,” she hisses. her gaze is settled on your spread pussy, watching it drool onto the silicon. there’s something else she’d like to commit to memory.
she plays with you a bit more - she’s always liked to play with her food. you’re whimpering and gasping as she curls her hand around her strap, working it upward from your entrance to the puffy bud of your clit. the slick, wet sounds of each movement go right to her own clit, and she’d be lying if she told you she wasn’t leaking through her briefs right now.
“god, vi, i can’t—” you cut yourself off with a high, drawn-out moan, eyes crossing, because vi’s drawing circles over your clit with the strap.
“please,” you say again. and again, and again - a chorus of “please, please, please” until vi’s finally had enough. she pushes her hips into yours, sinking so deep inside of you that you swear you can feel her in your throat.
“that what you need, princess?” vi asks, voice hoarse. battle-rough hands smooth over the soft curves of your hips, and she digs her thumbs into the flesh to steady herself as she pulls out again, only to sheath herself back into you a moment later. all you can manage is a shaky moan in response, front teeth sinking into your lower lip.
“what was that?” vi says as she slams into you again, repeating the motion in quicker succession. “couldn’t hear you.”
you moan again, back arching off the bed, and this time, vi laughs. but as humorous as she finds your inability to answer, it doesn’t keep her from fucking into you faster, rougher. your cunt opens smoothly around her, takes her like it’s made for this.
“try that again,” vi tells you. she waits for that soft, whiny, pathetic moan again, and when the sound tears from your throat, she chuckles again - then, throwing her head back in a melodramatic imitation of you, she makes that same sound herself. she moans like you do, like you are right now - too fucked out to say any real words.
vi’s still fucking you through her mocking imitation, though. “hear that? s’what you sound like, cupcake. fucking needy.”
your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there’s another flood of warmth elsewhere - your cunt gushes impossibly wetter. you moan again, trying for that over-exaggerated, pornstar-type sound, and whatever you do works, because vi’s red-faced and lust-drunk. she fucks you into the mattress at a dizzying pace, and all you can do is lie there and take it, moaning and gasping her name, your mouth releasing an endless stream of ah, ah, ah…
and vi mocks you at every opportunity, laughing with that self-satisfied grin on her lips, hips snapping forward to pull more of those sounds out of you.
after, when she’s made you cream on her strap at least twice, she smooths a hand through your hair and kisses that wrinkle between your brows.
“that was hot, you know,” you say, nuzzling into her jawline. she smells like sweat and sex and musk, that characteristically vi scent that’s always so intoxicating. “you mocking me, i mean.”
“figured you liked it,” vi says with a poorly-concealed smirk. “guess i’ll have to humiliate you more next time.”
“shut up.” you shove her away, but when she pulls you back in against her naked chest, smothering you in kisses, you can’t help but beam.
punching the fucking walls that was so cute i’m a mess
— 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, who’s 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
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
vi finally has you.
cw — wlw, oral sex (f! receiving), strap usage, strap is referred to as ‘cock’, overstimulation. men and minors dni.
after so many visits to a particular bar to see a particular person, she finally has you exactly where she wanted you. finally.
with stolen glances, sly and slick smiles, flirtations exchanged had you laying on her bed, legs thrown over her shoulders as she ate you out like you were her first meal out of prison. like she could survive off of your sweetness alone.
you all but writhed under her touch, your sniffles and whines filling the room while vi messily ate your pussy accompanied it. a long and sensual lick from your slit to your clit has you arching your back from her, your attempts of backing away from her touch falling short as two strong and calloused hands held firmly around your waist. “don’t run. taste so fuckin’ good right now. been waiting f’this…” the vibrations of her voice made you tremble, having no choice but to sigh and buck up her hips to your touch, desperate to feel more of her tongue-fucking you.
as if she heard your silent plea, her nose rutted up to your clit, tongue delving deeper into your hole to find more of the delicious results of your arousal, begging for the taste like a starved man. “ooou fuucckk vi..” you whined, throwing your head back as tears blurred your vision. she took that as a chance to take one of the hands that were holding down on your waist to take your swollen clit, her thumb prodding and rubbing experienced circles on it that’s guaranteed to give her those sweet mewls that make her throb. with the same hand that was working on your clit, she teasingly slides a finger from your slit and sinks one in your pussy. so tight, so warm—it could get her drunker than any amount of alcohol.
she knew she had you when you arched as her long finger easily finds and presses firmly against a squishy spot, taking it as a sign to add another finger. “pussy’s sucking me up so good, gonna be as good for my dick, yeah?” she smirked as she pressed and moved even deeper, causing you to cry out her name like a devotion to her, to a woman you only just met a few days ago at a stupid bar you worked. “mmh— yes, yes, vi! gonna be just as good f’you..” you babbled out. you didn’t even know what you was saying for real. as long as she kept on finger-fucking you through it.
“yeahhh, i know you will.” she dipped and gave your clit a nice kiss, like an reward to you for clenching around her fingers, feeling you getting closer and closer. “can feel you baby, squeezin’ me so tight. you wanna cum? c’mon..” she egged you on. but all you can do is nod pathetically as the knot in your stomach became unbearably tight, searching for release at the precipice when her thick and long fingers abused your insides, your juices messily coating her fingers, mouth and even the sheets.
“i got you, baby. c’mon, let go for me. i’m right here.” she mumbled against your sex, eagerly lapping and slurping up your juices. your chest heaves and you swear your vision got even blurrier, “d-don’t stop! fuuckk please don’t stop,” your thighs practically squished her head as she brought you there. she didn’t mind it through. why would she? she would die if it meant a pretty girls thighs crushed her head open as she came on her tongue.
“cumming, ‘m cumming vi, fuck—!!” you braced her as you threw your head back, beads of tears falling from your eyes as you came impossibly hard. gripping the sheets tightly as spots of white clouded your vision. strings of clear and cloudy ropes glazed her fingers and mouth, having her chuckling against your clit as she eagerly lapped and took it all, having you turned into a pathetic, melted mess.
after she was done, she kissed you up to your stomach, your neck, journeying all way up until she found your lips. when she finally made it back to your mouth, her lips and chin were glistening in your essence, so much so it made you a little flustered and self-conscious, but that all quickly disappeared as her lips captured yours. when you moaned into her mouth, her tongue slickly slipped inside your mouth, making her taste you on her tongue. she pulled back slightly, speaking against your lips, “y’taste that? taste so fuckin’ good, huh?” you could only nod weakly as a response, not letting you reply verbally as she kissed you again, making sure you tasted all of you.
you feel her fat cock slide against your slippery and wet slit teasingly, earning her a weak mewl against her lips. “yeah? you want it?” you feel her shit-eating grin against your lips, having you sniffle under her. “a-ahuh, want it so bad vi, please..” she kissed just right besides your lips before she angled her hips in a way that her tip would tease your entrance but not going quite there yet. she wants to feel you squirm first. she quickly got what she wanted, of course. “please—please, vi..” you pitifully bucked up your hips, desperate for any type of friction. your begging brought a chuckle out of her, standing up fully as she grabbed your thighs, folding you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“alright, alright, i’ll give ya what you want. you don’t gotta beg no more, i got you.” she spreads your thighs further, wanting to see her slide into your pussy and watch her cock slowly disappear in it. “look at that..” she murmured under her breath, the sight giving more heat to her core. you bit your lip down, tilting your head back slightly as you failed to keep your voice leveled as she filled you up so good, inch by inch. “oh my gods, vi,” you breathed out, barely even having the time to actually react as she fully sheathed in you, filling you up impossibly good. she groaned as she slowly thrusted into you, getting off at your pussy making sweet squelching sounds that filled up the room. it spurred her on, making her increase her pace so that the noises of wet skin smacking contributed to the nasty sounds that surrounded the room as well.
you squeezed your eyes shut despite looking at you through it all. having vi so deep inside you just felt so, so right. you could get used to this. “mmh, been thinkin’ about this for so long..” you repeated her past saying to her. she rocked into you more, pulling out a little more than wanted before she slammed back into you again, earning a delicious cry from you. “you wanted this so bad, doll? thought about it a lot?” she tilted her head at you. “s-so bad, vi..” you sniffled. “yeah baby?” she panted out, “how much? tell me.” you mewled, your back taut at her words. you were too turned on to care about the potential embarrassment of your confession right now. “nngh, ‘til it hurt— fuck!”
vi let out a low growl, her fingers gripping your thighs a little tighter. “you're gonna kill me," she panted. she took it as a sigh to go harder, deeper, making sure she can do better than your pesky fantasies.
“haah.. yeahhh, that’s it, take it just like that baby..” she moaned, her grip on your thighs growing more firm as she increasingly went harder and deeper, grinning when she heard you moan under her. “oh fuuuckk, vi—!! in s’deep, s’full..” you cried out. you felt her hand graze your tummy before slowly pushing down on it, making you both feel her cock poke through your stomach, your breath caught in your throat. “yeah? y’feel that? feel me deep inside you?” you nodded pathetically, your pussy clenching around her at her words. “ahuh, so deep, feels so…” she leaned in closer at your words, the action making her angle her hips better so that she can hit the spot that makes form tears in your eyes. “mhmm, feels so what? tell vi allll about it.” she pressed a soft kiss right besides your lips as she continued to drill into you, such a vast contrast knocking all of the words from your mouth. babbles of her name spilled from your lips as if it was the only word on your mind right now. mind full with just vi, vi, vi.
“vi— shit! getting close, ‘m getting close..” her cock reached impossibly deep, making your legs shake around her. you didn’t even know that you could get as deep as this until vi came around. thank the gods for leading her to you. her abdomen clenches, feeling herself slightly quivering from her own pleasure. she could cum just like this, deep inside you and hearing pretty wanton moans fall from your pretty mouth. every ridge finds comfort in the home of your pussy, fitting like a puzzle, like the gods lined you together just for you to take her cock. “yeah? you getting close f’me baby?” she breathes out, punting her cock deeper and harder, determined to bring you to that edge again, splitting you open with every jarring snap of her hips.
“cum, pl-leease vi, need t’cum so badly, baby please—“ she looked down at you, and fuck weren’t you ruined. tears lumping up your pretty eyelashes, drool from your pretty mouth, cheeks stained by your tears. you were so beautiful. “c’mon, give it t’me, cum alll over my cock, i got you, fuuckkk…” with a few final thrusts, you crying out her name and the both of you cooing out dirty praises, you came harder than last time, spoiling her cock with creamy cum that even gave a pretty white ring around the shaft.
it didn’t take long at all for her to cum right after you, trembling slightly as she moaned out your name and fucked you through your orgasm. she started kissing all over your face, each kiss followed by sweet nothings against your skin. she never pulled out fully, only slightly as she raised herself up, grinning and looking down at your fucked out expression. no way she was going to stop now.
“think you can give me one more?”
© 7KH 2024, all rights reserved — do not claim, modify, copy or translate my content.
CHRISTTTTTTT
vi x reader ࿐
18+ minors dni, use of strap, pet names, literally js porn idk the word count but it’s longer than my usual work in honor of 1k oomfs
‘ ssss .. it feels— vi .. please— ‘
‘ feels like what, hm ? tell me all about it .. ‘ the tone of vi’s voice is soft enough to soothe you some more, but deep enough to bring you to unintentionally clench around her. your warm walls smothering her cock, and your eyes watching her move in and out of you as your chest heaves. ‘ feel so full, ‘ you babble and she hissed out a laugh. that’s when you spread your legs wider, feeling comfortable enough to get into the hang of it. you only found yourself suddenly wanting more.
‘ mhm, pussy’s eatin’ my fuckin’ dick up, isn’t she ? i know you’d feel so goddamn good .. ‘ vi keeps her steady pace, delivering deep, slow, strokes to your cunt before sitting up to lightly massage your calves. she keeps eye contact with you, and even though yours refuse to keep their focus on hers, she doesn’t stop. she doesn’t stop losing herself in you, squeaking with every dirty line leaving her lips. your arms reach out to wrap themselves around her neck, and she easily picks up on your gesture. now hovering directly on top of you, balancing herself on one forearm while her opposite hand grips at the headboard above you, minimizing the weight of her body on yours.
‘ sh-shit— ouuu, vi ! ‘ for a moment, there’s only silence in the room. besides your minimal breathing and vi’s small groans that she failed to suppress were the only sounds that could be heard through an echo. both of you bask in one another’s presence while you let the tranquility of the moment steer you of to sea. ‘ h-harder, vi .. please. ‘ you lightly tap her shoulder with your fingers to gather her attention, eyes batting rapidly as you try to keep consciousness from the amount of pleasure you were feeling right now.
‘ harder ? baby, you look like you can barely keep your eyes open, ‘ she laughs attentively, looking down at the droplets of sweat beginning to fall down the sides of your face. yeah, she was right, you could barely open your eyes, but you had enough strength to flutter them and give her an annoyed, yet needy, glance. a soft sigh escapes her lips and that’s when she seizes your request, pushing her strap further into you, as deep as it could go and then right back out again, a suckle being left behind. you whine — no, you scream, ‘ oouu— fuck, vi, just like t-that .. ‘ almost loud enough to send a concerned expression to vi’s face.
when you claw at her arm she soon realizes it was a scream of pure ecstasy. ‘ ah, shit. yeahyeahyeah, talk to me, baby. you’re takin’ it so fucking good .. ‘ her tone is taunting and well past just casual dirty talk. she was digging deep, verbally and physically, saying shit just to bring a reaction out of you, curious of what she could say and do to make you squirm and sniffle around her. ‘ greedy lil’ pussy. taking me in so easily, you’re bein’ so good to me, princess. ‘
‘ baby— oh my god .. r-right there, right there, right there— shit, vi ! ‘ her words had gone right over your head. too lost in the the way she dips her hips deep into your core to even dare to speak anything more than a string of moans. your lips form a pout, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when you suddenly feel her tip poking right at your g-spot. which, she proudly didn’t take very long to find. you didn’t know it yet, but the constant pressure against your womb would be building up soon, creating a rather diabolical sensation for both your mind and body all in one.
‘ where ? right here ? ‘ the question is followed by a strong, but still conscious thrust. slow, yet powerful. vi now driving herself into you right where you wanted her. ‘ awe, baby, did i find your spot ? like when my dick kisses you right here, don’t you ? ‘ you can’t speak, nor can you begin to fathom why on earth vi was making you feel so lightheaded. disregarding the pleasure and the present circumstances, you felt alive. you felt like you couldn’t get this amount of euphoria from anything or anyone.
it wasn’t just the movement of her hips, or the nasty serenading words leaving her mouth, or even those angelic eyes that held an untold story. no no, it was the amount of emotion she brought you. the amount of love she’s shown you. the way she held you with such grace and tenderness like you were easy to shatter. it was all too surreal. the feeling, the gestures, the warmth, everything .. she was everything.
‘ faster ! faster, please baby— y- you’re so deep .. ‘ you clench around her, your pussy sucking her in more and more as she continues to drive you into shambles. your eyes travel down, focusing on the way she had to pull in and out of you with more force than needed simply because of how hard you were squeezing her. with each passing thrust, you could see her tip poking at your tummy over and over, forming a bulge right below your belly button.
‘ aah, shhhit, gonna’ make me fuckin’ cum, b-baby. ‘ she nervously whines, trying to hold in as much as she could, and god was it hard. with the friction against her, vi could almost find herself becoming overwhelmed. there were too many things to focus on, between your expressions, lustrous eyes, and small grunts, she could cum right then as she spoke. ‘ o-oh, so close .. c-close, m’ so close vi .. please let m-me cum with you .. ‘
your hands reach the sides of her face, carefully pulling her in closer for a kiss. you feel her meet you half way, closing the space between you both by kissing you like you were an an antidote she so desperately needed. she tugs on your bottom lip softly, closing her eyes and melting into you as she tries her hardest to bring you both to the finish line.‘ c’mon, baby, c’mon. cum with me— cum all over this dick angel, ‘ vi unconsciously fastens her hips, sending strong, and now sloppy, thrusts to you. you feel her deep, deep in your stomach. so much that you feel the urge to push against her toned stomach due to the overwhelming power she had over your body, ‘ nah, don’t run. t-take it just how you were. i know you wanna’ let it go .. ‘
‘ vi .. i’m cumming, baby .. i’m cumming— oh god .. ‘ your eyes slam shut and your swollen clit is caught by vi’s thumb as she rubs circles over the agitated flesh. the wet squelching sound of your cunt was almost loud enough to drown out your moans as you find yourself shakily wetting up her strap, ‘ vi vi vi, wai— mmph ! ‘ your legs stutter closed and she opens them right back up, only this time, grabbing onto your hips and fucking you at an angle to carry you all the way to the end.
‘ fuckkk, you’re a goddess. ‘ she praises, you push your head back deep into the plushed pillow underneath your neck, bawling your fists as the commotion in your stomach is finally fulfilled. there are tears in your eyes, followed by desire and pleasure — not to mention the creamy noise of your pussy sucking in vi’s dick with no problem. ‘ y-yyes .. yesyesyes— vi ! ‘
she’s quiet, or rather focused, concentrating on your trembling figure while feeling her own orgasm begin to pool over rapidly, ‘ fuckin’ christ baby, i’m cumming, ‘ she groans hoarsely, her hips bucking as she’s reaching her end. her body nearly smothers your own as she loses her balance, hugging you close as she finishes. she buries her head in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, onto your skin as she tries her best not to go limp.
‘ are you okay .. ? jesus .. yn that was— ‘
‘ so fucking good. ‘
𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐘𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐋 | all rights reserved — do not modify, copy, or plagiarize any of my works.
jumping for joy actually
counting stars
violet; 4,988 words; hurt/comfort, fluff, slightly suggestive moments, no "y/n", wlw (duh), self-indulgent to the point of lunacy, lots of kissing, mentions of bodily harm (not self-inflicted), teeth-rotting fluff mostly, popstar!reader x vi au
summary: when vi shows up at your door, what to do but to let her in?
a/n: bc nothing bad is allowed to happen to vi in my fictional world(s). and also im literally cackling ofc the fic that ppl r the least interested in posted first is the one that i post first; i guess i just like to be contrary but also i want to spoil vi and this is the only way i know how
─── Ⅵ SHE SHOWS UP UNANNOUNCED, split lip and bloody knuckles, leaning against your doorframe on a thursday night; you answer the door in your sheer pink nightgown and fluffy slippers, a bottle of rose chilling in a bucket on the table.
“vi?”
“hey princess —” she clears her throat, her smirk going lopsided as she tries to hide a clear wince. a bead of blood seeps out the corner of her mouth as she sucks in a shaky breath, “miss me?”
your lashes flutter with worry as you step aside to let her through — there’s a distinct limp to her gait that she can’t quite hide with her usual swagger.
“what happened?” you ask, letting the door click shut, following half a step behind her as she drags herself into your penthouse flat, letting out a low whistle as she looks around.
“nice place you got here. fits though, pretty castle for a pretty princess —”
“violet…”
you reach out with delicate fingers, taking slow steps forward; she hisses out a breath, her eyes sharp and wild as a wounded lion’s, her mouth a blunt-edged slash as she swallows, gaze flickering between your fingertips and your face as if she’s unsure what you might do.
she winces as you rub a light thumb along her cheek; your finger pulls away red.
“sorry —” the word rips from her at your touch. her eyes drop, her whole body shakes. “i — i didn’t know where else to go — and i — i remembered seeing that stupid 100 questions video you did here for —”
“for the fashion magazine, yeah,” you say, your voice soft as a baby’s breath. your hand lingers, a palm against her cheek. she leans into your touch, the movement small as heartbreak, but just as heavy.
“c’mon, lets get you cleaned up.”
you let your hand trail down her arm till your fingers link, and you lead her to you expansive couch, pressing her down firmly even as she frowns at her grime-covered clothes against your pristine white sofa.
“i’d offer to pay for dry cleaning but —”
you cut her off with a sharp look.
“don’t you dare. and plus, i’ve been meaning to change up the upholstery forever.”
you grab a bottle of vodka from the top shelf and a box of cotton balls, plopping down across from her on the couch in a flurry of pink-colored satin, inching forward till you’re nearly parked in her lap.
vi’s eyebrows hike as you pop the top off the vodka bottle, a grin twitching at her lips.
you roll your eyes.
“it’s not for drinking —” you soak a few cotton balls in the vodka even as vi’s expression falls. you lean in; vi’s hands find their way to bend of your waist, settling there as you daub gingerly at the blotches of drying blood on her face.
“ouch —” vi winces dramatically as you press down on a particularly deep cut, her lips pushing up into a pout, “not even a little bit? might help dull out the pain —”
she cuts off as you swipe a thumb along her bottom lip, breath hitching as you frown slightly, making to tug away for a fresh cotton ball.
“don’t — don’t leave —” her voice comes out harsh, desperate. you still, expression softening impossibly.
“i’m not,” you say, patient. she finds her fingers digging into your hips but you only smile. “i’m not going anywhere. promise. but i do need another cotton ball.”
she worries at her bottom lip, and already, you can see the fresh blood collecting in at the corner of her mouth. you press back into her space, wiping the blood away. her entire body slants towards you, her shoulders tight, her arms flexed, as if she’s bracing for a punch or a kiss.
you nudge her nose with yours, lifting up ever so slightly to press your lips to her forehead.
the dam breaks — all the pieces falling, her head tipping forward onto your shoulder, her hands wrapping around you tight, and then tighter. you feel yourself being hauled into her lap as she buries her face in the crook of your neck, a sound caught halfway between a gasp and a sob wrenching from her throat.
“f-fuck — shit —”
there’s heat to her skin, the roughness of her bandages, fraying at the edges, the worn-in material of her pants, the damp streaks of her hair tickling your cheek. her breath is uneven as it splays out against your collarbones, and when she finally tugs away to wipe at her face with the back of her hand, looking anywhere but at you, her lashes blink away wet.
“sorry — god this must be real sexy, right? mm — fuck —” she sniffles, shaking out her hand, her other one coming up to caress your cheek. her gaze is unfocused even as she skims her fingers over your skin. “god, you’re so soft. it’s like you’re made of — of marshmallows or something —”
you catch her hand with a tiny sigh, letting your gaze flicker over the bloodied bandages before you rub a thumb along an unmarred patch of skin.
“and you can be too. if you ever wanted to learn.”
she goes quiet then, the bravado bleeding from her as you continue your quiet work of cleaning all her varied injuries, disinfecting the cuts and bandaging the bruises. for the most part, she stays quiet, offering up the bloodied parts of herself for your perusal without resistance. it’s only when you shift back or make to tug away for a second that she jerks forward, resolute in her all-consuming need to keep you close.
“there. that’s about as much as i can do right now,” you say, heaving a sigh as you brush away several strands of black-pink hair from her face, letting your thumb skim over the tattoo on her cheek.
“thanks.” her voice comes out slightly hoarse, her eyes cutting away from you for a second before flickering back.
“i’d say it’s nothing but…” you let your thumb trail down the line of her jaw, tracing over her fluttering pulse as you work your slow way down her neck, “i mean —” you let out a soft laugh, hiccupping slightly as she takes the chance to tug you even closer, pressing you to her, chest to chest, so that you have to brace both your palms against her shoulders just to keep steady. neither of you mentions the fact that her arms are shaking.
“it was a bad night,” she says. and it’s all she offers for a few minutes, but you don’t push her, content to rest against her, let her run circles into your skin with her fingers against the small of your back, her breaths evening out till she looks back up at you with a wry grin.
“let me guess,” you say, linking your fingers behind her neck, “you should see the other guy though, right?” you drop your voice in a mocking imitation; it sounds nothing like her but it manages to draw out a laugh, the sound ricocheting between the pair of you like an echo till it dissipates, leaving the air somehow slightly warmer than before.
“yeah. somethin’ like that,” she murmurs, leaning forward to nudge your nose with hers, eyes going dark.
you cup her cheeks and let her kiss you, lips on lips and gasping breaths, till her fingers are inching up the thin material of your night dress, bunching it up, her thumbs tracing the ridges of your ribs, the weight of her body pressing you back into the plush couch, far too big for the pair of you —
“v-vi — wait —” you gasp away from her, fingers tangled in her oil slick hair, her mouth trailing hot and wet down the side of your neck. she makes a grumbling sound, nipping at your collarbones before resting her chin on your sternum, her hands still grazing further and further up your nightgown.
“c’mon princess — you got to play doctor, so now lemme pay you back proper —“
“vi.” the sharpness to your voice jolts her, and a frown creases her forehead as she blinks up at you with her gunpowder eyes, her fingers now still against your skin. you puff out a breath, pushing yourself back up to cup her cheeks, squeezing them slightly between your palms.
“i don’t want you to ‘pay me back’ for anything.”
hurt and confusion chase each other in a butterfly-wing flutter of emotions across her eyes before she pulls back.
“you don’t want this?”
you fight back the urge the roll your eyes as you sigh, reaching out to tug her back, this time, it’s you crowding into her personal space, leaning in to kiss her solidly on the lips. you feel her go soft against you, her hands cupping the ridges of your ribs once more.
“of course i want this,” you murmur against her lips, “but i — i don’t want it as ‘payback’ for anything. i…” your breath catches as vi leans in to nip at your bottom lip, heat pluming up the back of your neck, cresting into your chest as you blink at her, “i want this… if you want to give it. and — and i want it because — because i want you.”
she makes a strange, pitched noise in the back of her throat as she crushes you to her, her mouth slotting over yours so desperately that your teeth clack, but when she pulls back, she’s shaking her head, resting her forehead against yours with a sigh.
“shit princess — you can’t say shit like that and not expect me to lose my fuckin’ mind — fuck —“
you let out a tinkling laugh, fingers now massaging the cords of muscle at the nape of her neck. a shiver runs through her, her lashes a sweep of ink and shadow.
“relax… i’m not going anywhere. promise,” you remind her even as she tips into you once more, a whine working from her throat into yours as her fingers dig into the supple skin of your waist, dragging you down the length of the couch till you’re pinned beneath her thighs.
she pulls away panting, your own chest a staccato rise and fall. but your eyes are steady when she finds them again and you reach up to trace her cheek.
“when’s the last time you’ve had a bath?”
the question catches her off-guard, making her jerk back slightly, a frown ticking down between her brows.
“what?”
you giggle, “a bath. like, a proper one.”
one of her eyebrows kick up, “you sayin’ i smell or something?”
you sigh, yet again fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you push yourself up onto your elbows, your pink nightgown rucked up to your thighs, your hair falling out of the messy bun you’d twisted it up into earlier that evening.
“no,” you let your voice linger on the word, pinning vi with a look, “but you do taste like the inside of a paint can so.”
her eyes narrow but she lets you wiggle out from beneath her, your fingers trailing down her arm to tug her behind you as you lead her into the master bathroom. the light clicks on and vi scoffs.
“wow.”
“pick a bubble-bath, any bubble-bath — my favorite’s the —”
“rose one?” she finishes, lifting up the nearly empty bottle of light pink bubbly water displayed on a white marble shelf full of multi-colored liquids.
you allow yourself a blush as you shrug, twisting on the taps and testing the temperature, drying off your hand before turning back towards her.
“so i know what i like. sue me.”
vi smirks in honest this time, uncapping the bottle and wafting it beneath her nose.
“mm, delicious.”
you don’t miss the licentious lilt to her voice, nor the flicker of dark, hungry light in her eyes.
you turn away, leaning across the vast bathtub to grab a white can.
“if you think that’s delicious — wait till you see the sugar scrub — oh!”
a pair of arms snakes around your middle, pulling you back against abs and a bandaged up chest. vi’s voice is hot by your ear as she noses into the side of your cheek.
“yeah? is it gonna make me taste less like the inside of a paint can?”
“mhm,” you say, letting your free hand rest naturally over both of hers, the other hand dipping into the sugar scrub to swipe a dollop of sticky white crystals onto her nose. she gasps, jerking back for just a second, going slightly cross-eyed before a mischievous expression eclipses her features and she hoists you up into her arms, holding you suspended over the slowly filling bathtub.
“don’t play this game with me, princess — there’s only one way it’ll end.”
you let out a bright peal of laughter that echoes around the soft marble walls, looping both your arms around her neck.
“try me.”
for a second, she makes as if to drop you, but she pulls you back into her chest at the last second, cradling you against her.
“alright princess, let’s see how good this bath is,” she says, her voice soft as she sets you back down on your feet. you lean up to give her a quick peck before taking the rose-scented bubble bath and pouring it into the swirling water.
by the time the tub is filled, the room is filled with a thin gauze of steam, and when you turn, you find vi standing awkwardly behind you, watching with one hand on her opposite elbow, rocking on the balls of her feet.
“in general,” you say, pushing to your feet, “people take baths with their clothes off.”
vi’s cheeks go blotchy, and her eyes skitter about the room.
“what, i’m just supposed to strip here and —”
her words cut off abruptly as you turn your back on her and tug your night gown from your body, stepping into the bubble-filled water, glancing over your shoulder.
“you coming?”
vi nearly trips out of her tight-fitting pants, tugging haphazardly at the bandages wrapped around her torso. when she finally steps into the water opposite you, she drops down with a soft splash, a loud groan rolling from her as her eyes flutter shut.
when she forces them open again, it’s to find you watching her with your round doe eyes, a sweet, knowing smile perched over your very kissable lips. she wonders at the heat in her cheeks, at the way it prickles at her skin, thinks to herself that it must be the steam, must be the hot water currently melting away at the knots that had braided themselves into her muscles the past few weeks, but she when she feels your calf nudging against her’s she can’t help the way her breath skids inside her chest.
“c’mere,” you motion, and vi blinks at you for a second before shifting till you’re face to face, her hovering uncertainly between your legs before you jerk your chin for her to turn around.
the bathtub is more than big enough to fit the both of you, and for a while, a comfortable quiet settles as she leans her back against your chest, your fingers dancing up the length of her arms, trailing warm water along her shoulders, tangling in the rapidly lightening tips of her hair.
the dark dye runs off her, pluming in the water like spilled ink. you steadily work your fingers through her tresses, smoothing out the knots, occasionally letting your nails scrape against her scalp.
“holy fuck that feels nice…”
you smile, washing as much the dye out as you can before rubbing your thumbs into her shoulders, feeling the tightness coiled there like springs. she grunts, shifting beneath your touch.
“y-you don’t have to do this y’know —” she tries to pull away, only to have you click your tongue impatiently and tug her right back.
“lemme know if i’m hurting you, okay?” is the only thing you say as you continue to massage her shoulders.
she softens, letting out a long sigh and a small chuckle.
“you’d have to try real hard to manage that, sweetcheeks.”
you puff out a tiny breath before digging your thumb into a particularly tender knot, her entire body buckling away from you.
“ow!” she twists around, eyes wide, even as you cast her a look that has her turning back again, but not before she flicks a bit of water at you, her other hand resting easy on your knee, bent next to her hip as she leans against you once more.
“this is the first thing they teach you how to do in a brothel,” you say, your voice light as you slowly work the tightness from each of vi’s muscles, applying gentle pressure, using the bubbles as lubricant.
“wait what?” she tries to turn around again, only for you to pinch lightly at one of her loosening knots, tutting.
“stay still and i’ll tell you the story.”
she stills, though her breath is still short, and the hand that had so recently been lolling against your knee is now stiff, her fingers wrapped around your limb as if to brace herself for what you’re about to say next.
“most people don’t know this, but i’m actually from the undercity — all my earliest memories are of the brothel, the girls there braiding my hair, or letting me sit on their vanities, smearing bits of lipstick on my cheeks as rouge. i think my mother must’ve been one of those girls once but… i never knew her. and it didn’t really matter anyway — i think… i was one of the lucky ones. at least i always had water and a hot bath when i wanted it.”
vi’s fingers tighten on your thigh before she lets up her grip, sighing as she presses her back more firmly against you.
“i’m sorry.”
you shrug, shifting a bit of hair from one shoulder to the other as you continue to dig your meticulous fingers into her weary muscles.
“don’t be. like i said, i was one of the lucky ones. but… i always knew that we were living a hard life. sometimes, one of the girls would vanish and… we’d never know where she went. sometimes, a guest would get a bit too rough and —” you let out a tiny laugh, “well i got pretty good at patching up cuts and bruises.”
you flatten your palms against her skin, running them along the expanse of her shoulders before pushing down her arms to squeeze at her firm biceps.
“there. how’s that feel?”
vi sits up, rolling her neck and shoulders with a loud groan.
“damn. that feels amazing but —” her expression softens as she reaches for you, running tender thumbs along the bend of your cheek.
“you — you don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to.”
“i know.” you catch her hand in yours, fingers curling in. all around you, perfumed mist hangs light in the air, hazing out the already diffused lighting. “but i want to.”
vi smiles, nodding.
you take another breath. your interlaced fingers sink into the murky water.
“when i turned thirteen, they started teaching me the ropes — massages first —”
“thirteen,” vi’s voice is harsh in the mist-hung room, the syllables cracking as they reverberate against the slick tiles.
you lilt your head, “how old were you when you ran your first job?”
vi stares, her mouth agape, “b-but — that’s — that’s different!”
“is it?”
she sputters for a few more seconds before deflating, shaking her head, tugging her hand from your grasp to splash water into her face, running both hands over her eyes with a groan.
somehow, she could picture it perfectly, you with your sweet smile and darling eyes, running deft fingers over the shoulders and necks of the unnamed girls at babette’s as they talk you through how to press just so, how to lull someone into your lap, and later, into your bed.
“but like i said… i was one of the lucky ones. really, really lucky — because one day, while i was refilling the water and tidying up the rooms, a guest heard me singing and… he offered me a gig topside.” you let yourself sink into the slowly cooling water, your hair flowing in a soft halo around your shoulders.
vi watches you with an inexplicable expression on her face — half-sadness, half-wonder.
“and the rest, well —” you flick a bit of water towards her; she blinks it away before pulling you into her chest, “you know the rest. or, i mean, i don’t know if you watched that entire 100-questions video —”
“i did.”
vi loops her arms around you, hooking her chin over your shoulder.
and once again, the quiet settles around you both, hanging solid in the air like so much dissipating steam.
“all that to say…” you murmur, turning slightly to face her, searching her eyes with your own, “you don’t have to pretend with me. not with me. not when it’s just the two of us.”
you watch her eyes widen ever so slightly, watch as her lips part and she hesitates over the words hanging at the tip of her tongue.
“thanks,” she finally manages, “for… for telling me this.”
you smile, pulling back to reach for the white can, unscrewing the top.
“okay. sugar-scrub time.”
by the time the pair of you leave the bath, the water’s cooled to a tepid chill at best. you offer vi a fluffy towel, wrapping one around yourself as you pad from the room in search for some clean loungewear.
you return with a large t-shirt and some shorts, which vi eyes for a second before pulling on, her cheeks darkening as she sees you watching her.
“quit looking at me like that…” she huffs as you tug on a loose shirt yourself, pulling on a pair of pink, lace-trimmed panties.
“like what? like you deserve to be looked at?” you ask, voice even as you run a towel over your damp hair. vi crinkles her nose, frowning down at her dirty clothes, piled in a lump on your bathroom floor. you shrug.
“leave it. that’s a tomorrow-problem. c’mon, bed-time.”
vi sighs, ruffling at her hair with the white towel, staring at the gray streaks she leaves behind. she glances up to find you standing by the bathroom door, a hand outstretched behind you, waiting.
she licks her lips before tossing the towel over her pile of clothes and reaching out to take your hand.
your bedroom is dark, lit only by the scatter of city lights from beyond your windows. through it, the city is a pulsing maze of tiny lights and spectral towers. you pause, glancing towards the skyline with a sigh.
“it’s a beautiful view,” vi says, coming up to stand behind you, looping an arm around your waist. you lean into her touch, her warmth, turning slightly to find her eyes just as faraway.
“yeah,” you grin, reaching up to touch her cheek, “you are.”
she turns, blinking at you for a second before your words register. she groans even as you laugh, the sound fizzling through her till her skin prickles with warmth and goosepimples.
“c’mon. bed.” she says, and you grin, allowing yourself to be led to your own bed, pulling back the silken covers, slipping beneath and watching as vi inches in next to you, pillowing her cheek on her arm. you angle your body towards hers, letting out a long, steadying breath.
she mirrors you — one breath, then another, then another.
“thanks, princess,” she says, after a few long moments.
you shuffle forward beneath the blankets, reaching out to wrap an arm around her waist. she closes her eyes, bending her head till you’re nose to nose.
“for what?”
vi lets out a puffed laugh, her lashes fluttering open again.
“for… letting me in.”
you press you lips, your eyes searching her’s. and here, in the dim moon-lit night, her eyes shone like twin stars, bright as firelights. you inch just a bit closer, letting your foreheads press as she shifts an arm to slip around your waist as well.
you hook your ankle over hers, shimmying till you’re hip to hip, your bodies arched into each other, bend for bend. she bites down on her lip, if only to stop it from quivering. you graze your hand up her arm to rest on her cheek.
“you know you’re always welcome here.”
vi laughs, the sound strangely watery as she blinks away the hot prickle biting up the back of her throat. it’s been so long since she’s had anywhere to come back to. and here you are, offering it up to her on a gold-gilded platter.
“yeah?” she says, even though her voice shakes and she has to swallow hard over the lump in her throat as she coaxes your chin up, angling your lips towards hers, “careful… i might actually take you up on that.”
“whatever’s mine is —” your breath hitches high as vi tugs you into her, crushing your lips to hers, a thick groan working it’s way through her chest. you taste salt on your tongue, even as she trails her mouth along your jawline to suck a dark, blossoming hickey into the side of your throat.
“— yours.” you finish, spearing your fingers through her hair to pull her back, your eyes soft in the gathering darkness. vi lets out a tiny, pitched whine as she buries her face in your chest, her body curling in on itself. you rock her against you, letting her grapple her fingers into your nightshirt, clutching you to her even as you sooth your palms over her head and neck, shushing her gently.
“fuck, princess…” she says, her voice slightly muffled, “you’re tryna spoil me rotten, huh.”
you smile, letting her pull back just far enough to catch a glimpse of your face.
“well, someone’s gotta do it.”
vi chuckles, the sound rumbling from her chest to yours.
“yeah well… i’m glad you’re the one angling for the job, sweets.”
you hum, letting your eyes fall shut as vi’s grip on you loosens, and the pair of you sink into the liquid warmth of each others bodies.
vi shifts, tucking you deeper into her arms as you content yourself with sighing into her skin, and it’s an almost automatic spin-click of both your bodies, your limbs settling into and against each other, your torsos turning to just the right spot, just the right angles to fit against one another.
you settle, and feel the world settle around you — time itself seems to breathe and slacken, the evening-shaped seconds and minutes ticking each into its own place, like the teeth on a set of cogs, catching one rung into another, spinning one after the other till everything starts to hum into place.
sleep slips its gossamer gauze over your eyes and vi shifts, her lips ghosting your forehead.
“whatever gods up there that put you in my life…” she whispers, her voice tight, you make a soft noise, like a question, or perhaps a confirmation, leaning up to level your faces once more. your eyes open and vi finds her own reflection staring back at her, the shape somehow softened by your gaze, and she wonders, not for the first time, what you see in her, what you’ve always seen in her, that makes you so…
“there’s already a shrine set up for them in the living room,” you murmur, and for a second, vi stares, her own mind quiet for the first time in a long while. you smile sleepily at her confusion, nuzzling her nose with yours, “what, you didn’t know? i’d been thanking them for you since the first day we met.”
vi makes a sound like a hiccup, shaking her head as warmth bubbles through her, a champagne-colored shake-fizzle-pop of emotions welling up behind her eyes, making her head spin.
“well shit —” she grins, tugging you ever closer, “you’re always one step ahead of me, aren’t you princess?”
you hum, carding your fingers through her hair as she settles against you once more.
“mhm,” a tired little yawn, “and maybe tomorrow morning, if you’re feeling up to it —”
“yeah?” vi’s voice is soft, is sweet, is almost reverent as she kisses the skin of your sternum, her lips lingering right beneath your collarbones.
“i could show you some of the other things i picked up at the brothel.”
vi groans, her fingers digging into your hips at the tantalizing thought.
“mm, you mean other than giving people amazing shoulder massages?”
you laugh, and outside, a large neon sign flickers off, tossing the room into a deeper, richer dark.
“yep. but for now…”
“sleep?” vi asks.
you nod, watching as her eyelids flutter shut, and you let yours do the same. your fingers find hers beneath the blankets; your palms press and she gives you a tiny squeeze. you squeeze back and smile.
“sleep.”
my silly )): i want her so bad raghhh
vi x reader (fluff) - modern au ; around the house
→ she/her pronouns!
self-indulgent, personal headcannons i have for VI! suggestive and pervy! you've been warned!
an absolute BEAST if she sees you around the house in your loungewear. you won't be able to walk by the kitchen, do laundry, ANYTHING without her hand somewhere on your ass.
she especially loves when you wear just an oversized tee and underwear; goes apeshit if the shirt lifts and she catches a glimpse of your butt while you're doing something mundane like reach for a mug on a shelf.
It's a lazy Sunday at Vi's apartment, meaning that the both of you have most likely haphazardly thrown on each other's clothes as a slim effort at modesty.
Vi has on a raggedy black wifebeater, no bra of course, and some random pair of plaid boxers. You've thrown on a shirt you found on the floor, which you didn't know said, "BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN" until you looked in the mirror. Oh well.
Suspecting that Vi would probably be playing Call of Duty in her room or something, you frolick off to the kitchen, thinking you can just make yourself lunch and binge a Netflix show.
You were very wrong. She already started getting bored as soon as she entered the lobby, thinking too much about how she should be with you since you're at her flat anyway.
Discarding her headset to the side, Vi leaps off of her desk chair, excitedly wandering around the apartment to see if she could find you. And she does, finding you reaching up on a shelf for a bowl.
Her eyes aren't on you though, moreso on the literal SLIVER of ass that shows as the t-shirt lifts. You're standing on your tippy-toes too, since Vi purposefully puts the bowls on the top shelf for this exact reason.
Whilst stirring your ramen, you feel a rough palm slide up against where your thighs and ass meet, giving you a good squeeze. It's almost ignorable at this point, since she does it so often. Vi's all up on you, gently pinching your butt before sliding her palms up onto your waist. She pulls you into her as you stir up your ramen, aligning up her front to your back.
A kiss is pressed to your nape, before she leans her cheek on your shoulder. A whiny groan escapes her lips, where she squeezes your waist tight.
"Mmph, you're so cute... you know that?" She murmurs into your ear, like she can't handle it.
The airy giggle that escapes your lips almost has Vi's head spinning, in which she rests her chin on your shoulder to see what's on the stove.
"What'cha making?" She asks, and you affectionately place your hand on top of hers.
"Shin. You wanna share?" You answer, turning the stove off as steam starts to wafe from the pot.
You feel a nod against your shoulder. "Mhm."
౨ৎ ――
has these strangeeee cravings/struggle meals, mannerisms too. she grew up in prison for most of her teenage-to-adult life, so she had to get creative when it came to food she wanted to eat.
sometimes she'd crush up dry ramen noodles and sprinkle the flavoring packet as a snack, or dip plain bread in applesauce
she will eat ANYTHING, no complaints, she's seen the worst, probably has a stomach of steel
she eats so fast too, so quickly. like those reels about the girl taking her time to eat and the boyfriend finishing his meal in 20 seconds.
i reckon she eats alot too, either fast metabolism, or just that she burns alot of calories in general from being so active.
her body runs warm
DUDE she'll look at people weird too; i feel like she has a staring problem sometimes. if you're at a sephora or something she'll give you some space, but then stare at you from afar like some creep
(i dont know anything about prison)
Over the years of dating Vi, you're noticed the 'prison' behavior that never really washed out of her. She's opened up a lot to you about her experience in jail; what she was in for, how she felt, the types of thing she's had to do to get by. You treat the subject with upmost gentleness, something that Vi's never really used to as someone who's been traumatized her entire life.
You've started to see reoccurring comfort meals that she eats sometimes. Once, you asked Vi if she wanted anything from the supermarket while you out. She texted you; can u get me cheese ritz crackers.
It's almost like you knew Vi was up to something silly; when you came home with the crackers, she did a little, "oooh, yay!" before pressing a wet kiss to your cheek.
"Why'd you want these?" You asked, kicking off your shoes at the door.
She grabbed the packet from your hand, in which you notice a tender, nostalgic expression on her face as she peered at the packaging.
"Mac & cheese." She just said with a cheeky grin, heading over to the kitchen.
You watch as she would scrape the cheese filling off the crackers, put them into a bowl, and melt them down in the microwave with a bit of butter and milk. While that's happening, she'd boil a packet of instant noodles, and then dump the noodles into the 'sauce' and stir it up.
"Y'know, I made this a lot in jail. It's my favorite." She'd explain to you with a full mouth, groaning with every bite she took.
And now, sometimes you make it, just to make Vi happy.
౨ৎ ――
your first christmas with Vi was super cute. though Vi used to celebrate christmas in early childhood, she doesn't really remember it. christmas time during jail was just receiving small goody bags from charities; nothing heartfelt or meaningful.
vi almost doesn't know what to do with herself during christmas, especially when you're feeling all festive and making gentle decorations around the apartment.
she used to not care about holidays, but now she does, because you do <3
Knelt on the soft, carpeted floor of your apartment, you sit across from Vi. She has on these silly Christmas-themed pajama pants on that you gifted her mid-December, along with the hoodie she likes to sleep in the most. You're bundled up in warm pajamas, complete with a silly Santa hat on top of your head.
Reaching underneath the decorated tree, you pull out a wrapped parcel, handing it to your girlfriend with a warm, excited smile. The way she looks at the present is so confused, so awkwardly cute. Hesitantly, she takes it in her hand.
"Is this for me?"
"Duh! Yes, you can open it." You say with a smile.
You watch as Vi peels back the layers of colorful wrapping paper with a tiny smile on her face, fighting the urge to pull your phone out and start recording like a proud parent.
A little gasp escapes your breath when Vi finally reveals the present; a black, cat-eared beanie you crocheted for her in secret weeks prior. The way her face utterly lights up has your heart melting inside. You realize how big this might be for her; one of her first real Christmases, one of her first real handmade gifts.
She peers up at you, with the beanie in her lap. "Did you make this?"
You nod. "Yeah, you wear beanies a lot so, I thought a kitty-cat one would be cute."
You watch as Vi's face starts to twist whilst looking down at the beanie, her eyebrows loosening while her chin starts to wrinkle just a little bit. She quickly sinks her head low, using the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe away at fat tears that dribble down her cheek.
At first you don't know how to handle it, until you shuffle closer to her on your knees, placing your hand on her knee. After sniffling a few times, she looks to you with reddened eyes, a quivering lip.
Setting the beanie aside onto the carpet, Vi hoists you closer to her with two palms by your sides. She wraps you up in a warm, tight bear hug, digging her cheek into the side of your neck with sniffles against your ear. Vi practically rings all the air out of you with her strong arms, but you tolerate it anyway because you know it's all love.
Smiling, you soothe her with a pat on her shoulder, trying your best to match her level of hug-strength. You then feel muffled words against your shoulder, before Vi sits up.
You can barely ask what she said before Vi tenderly pulls you into her with arms around your shoulders, pressing up her soft lips against yours. The tears on her cheek smear onto your face as Vi pokes and prods at your mouth with her lips, kissing you sweetly with the tiniest sobs in between.
When finished, she hugs you tight again, almost knocking you over onto the carpet.
"I love you." *sniffle* "I'll keep it forever."
౨ৎ ――
she's a thighs girl, through and through. you literally have to watch when you wear shorts or a skirt because she'll go apeshit like a pubescent teenaged boy.
does dumb in the head when you sit and your thighs squish up against the chair, ESPECIALLY if you sit on her lap.
likes to grope em up with her hands, or rest her head on them
sucking hickeys on them is fun too ;)))))))
"Vi, you really gotta stop doing this in public."
You say with as much of a serious tone as possible, crossing your arms whilst looking up at her. You're both towards the back of the Sephora, amidst searching for a specific perfume that you wanted to try.
Vi only replies with a cheeky smirk, crossing her own arms before trailing her eyes back down towards your thighs. She's insufferable.
"Doing whaaat?" She slyly asks, shifting her weight onto one side.
"Feeling me up like a perv, that's what!" You exclaim in fake annoyance, walking away from her and quickly busying yourself with one of the isles of lipgloss.
Vi makes light grabby hands as she chases after you, playfully whining while you test out a gloss color on the back of your hand.
"But you're so soffttttt-"
Your glare is enough to silence her, walking away like a kicked puppy to make odd mixtures with the makeup testers.
౨ৎ ――
she's such a goofy goober at heart <333
it's the small silly things that make you giggle the most; putting something odd on her head, staring at you with funny faces, mewing at you, tickling your sides; kid-like stuff.
and when you playfully roll your eyes, she'll just respond with the cheekiest, cat-got-the-cream kind of smile.
she'll go to great, weird lengths to hear you chuckle or laugh.
cackling with her is rare, but literal gold like i'm talking tears coming out the eyes, flip flopping like a fish while laughing, lightly hitting eachother on the arm, scream laughing.
Your girlfriend practically beckons you over to the Spencer's with a spring in her step. Letting her wave you over like an excited puppy, you step into the dark store, whilst Vi eagerly heads over to the t-shirt section. She has a thing for gag-gifts, like odd mugs or silly socks.
You let Vi loose like a child into a park, while you stare at the odd cups and lanyards. Browsing through the very extensive belt collection towards the back of the store, you notice a familiar head of pink hair out the corner of your eye.
"Babes, look!"
If she had a tail it'd be wagging right now, holding a wad of dark grey cloth in between both of her silver-ringed hands. With a sly smile on her face, unraveling the ball of cloth in her hand to put up a large shirt.
It says "two-seater" in the middle, one arrow pointing to the neck of the shirt, while the other points to the bottom of it.
You short, your eyes flickering from the big shirt to Vi's smug face.
"It's perfect for you." You say, and she eagerly nods, folding it over her forearm. She then gives you this silly look, like fluttering her lashes and peering at you with oddly pursed lips. She looks half like a baby that ate a lemon, half like a peasant begging for food.
She steps closer to you, holding the shirt and tugging on your sleeve.
"Can I wear it while you sit on my-"
You harshly hit her on the arm, in which Vi rubs where you hit with fake hurt.
"Shhh, people will hear!"
She stops you before you turn away towards the belts with a hand on your arm, goofily fluttering her eyelashes at you like it's actually going to work. She does that thing you like, ghosting her hand onto your side with a little squeeze.
"...."
The cashier gives you both a look when Vi hands them a few dollar bills, placing the shirt into a paper bag while scroll through your phone.
౨ৎ ――
extras:
knows how to do that thing where she presses her palm onto your lower tummy while finger-fucking you to make you cum faster
i see her at-home outfit as a band/silly tshirt with the sleeves torn off, plaid boxers, and mismatched fandom socks
sends you godawful memes when you text
never learned to spell properly; sometimes gets certain words wrong too and its a little funny
takes up the whole damn bed, snores, it's like she's having a seizure once she shuts eyes
your first impressions of her are flirty, nonchalant-ish???, and overall genuine. once your relationship gets deep, you start seeing how silly she is, her smaller flaws, how she actually acts around people she loves
© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.