summary: y/n has a crush on jj, but he has no idea about it. instead of confronting him and telling him, she has to suffer and listen to him brag about his hookups/watch him flirt with random tourons until she canât anymore and ends up distancing herself from jj. based on the song: âdetailsâ by maisie peters
warnings: swearing, under-age drinking, angst
detailsÂČ - jj x fem!reader
summary: after y/n confessed her feelings to jj she hasnât been the same. spending her days in her room with only her thoughts to keep her company she was completely and utterly miserable; jj being the same as well.
warnings: swearing, angst
this is on you - jj x platonic!reader
summary: y/n and jj had been best friends for many years and had always been there for each other. but what happens when jj gets a new girlfriend and y/n finally comes to realise what has been happening between her and jj all these years. based on the song âthis is on youâ by maisie peters
warnings: swearing, angst
love in the shadows - jj x fem!reader
summary: y/n and jj take every chance they can at spending a moment with one another - even if that means spending it in a supply closet.
warnings: none
just one look - jj x fem!reader
summary: jj has a serious problem; he canât stop staring at you. everyone notices, even you, but he doesnât seem to want to do anything about it - or maybe he canât? but, at a kegger on the beach maybe his stares wonât go to waste
warnings: self-loathing, self-depreciation
i canât hold you - jj x platonic!reader
summary: after the disappearance of john b and sarah jj had been relying on you to be his emotional support. at first you could handle it, but, after a while it all became too much and so you distanced yourself from him to give yourself a break â until he shows up at your house needing answers. i basically listened to âiâm not a mountainâ by sarah kinsley to write the entirety of this so i would definitely recommend you to listen to it whilst reading (and stream her whole ep itâs amazing)
warnings: mentions of death, angst, assault by slipper
âââŠââă âââŠââ
PETER PARKER
magic sticks - peter parker x witch!reader
summary: as y/n is trying to practice her witchcraft, peter canât help but feel intrigued - leading to him coming to watch her first hand.
warnings: witchcraft
sticky fingers - peter parker x fem!witch!reader
summary: you catch peter touching your things and give him a fair warning
warnings: witchcraft
âââŠââă âââŠââ
JESPER FAHEY
masquerade - jesper fahey x fem!reader
summary: y/n and her fellow crows are working a job at a merchants masquerade ball. whilst half of the crew go off in search of priceless pieces of art, the other half attend the ball undercover - in order to distract the guests and keep an eye on the guards. during the night, jesper finds y/n and saves her from herself.
warnings: alcohol
âââŠââă âââŠââ
STILES STILINSKI
do not disturb - stiles x fem!reader
summary: stiles hears from the police scanners in his room of a dead body being found in the woods, and heâs on a mission to recruit his friends to help him find it.
warnings: swearing
âââŠââă âââŠââ
STEVE HARRINGTON
matter of life and death - steve x gn!reader
summary: when steve found out that hearing your favourite song could save you from a gruesome death â all he could think about was the fact that he didnât know yours. and he was going to change that. even if he does come off as a little strange whilst trying.
The tenderness and softness perfectly captured in this art is so heart melting. This is just them⊠in the comfort of their bedroom, enjoying every moment they can share together and never missing the opportunity to stare into each otherâs eyes and see the reflection of pure love and acceptance.
The promise of a life filled with warmth, caring , understanding and safety.
âËâč where you fit | steve harrington x reader
summary:
you learned a long time ago how to take up less space. steve harrington promised you would never have to do that with him. when he breaks that promise, even by accident, the fallout is quiet and unbearable.
robin buckley, who is not paid enough for this, eventually forces him to stop being an idiot and go get his girl.
tags/warnings: post s4 no spoilers, hurt/comfort, emotional angst, abandonment fears, miscommunication, idiots in love, steve harrington being painfully in love, reader has a soft heart, robin buckley saves the day, brief crying, comfort ending
wc: ~6k
âââàšà§âââ
Steve notices the smell before anything else.
Heat-soaked carpet. Dust warmed by sunlight. The faint sweetness of the shampoo you forgot in his shower, lingering in the air like proof you were here recently. The fan hums from the corner of his bedroom, rattling the posters taped to the walls, pushing warm air that sticks to his skin. Outside, cicadas buzz relentlessly, a steady pulse beneath the quiet tension curling in his chest.
You stand near the foot of his bed, arms wrapped around yourself. Not angry. Careful. Like you are choosing each word before you let it go.
The lamp on his desk casts everything in amber. It softens the room. Softens you. Makes this feel like a place where nothing bad should happen.
âYouâve been distant,â you say gently. âI can feel it.â
Steve leans back against the dresser, the wood pressing into his spine. His shirt clings to him with sweat. He smells like soap and summer and the faint metallic tang of grease from the car he worked on earlier.
âIâve just had a lot on my mind,â he says.
âYou always do,â you reply. âBut lately you disappear into it.â
His jaw tightens. He hates that you can tell. Hates that you see straight through him even when he is trying to keep everything together.
âIâm allowed to think,â he snaps. âNot everything has to be a conversation.â
Your shoulders tense.
âI donât need everything,â you say. âI just need to know youâre still here.â
That should have stopped him. It usually does. He loves how openly you want him. Loves that you never pretend to need less than him. Loves how easily you reach for reassurance now, even after a past that taught you to fold yourself smaller to survive.
He knows where that instinct came from. He knows the cost it once had.
Fear makes him careless.
âYouâre always checking,â he says. âAlways needing to know where Iâm at, what Iâm feeling, if Iâm okay.â
You blink, lips parting slightly.
âIt gets exhausting,â he adds, frustration rising. âI canât even breathe without you asking if Iâm alright.â
The cassette clicks loudly as it reaches the end of the tape, cutting the music mid-note. The fan hums. Cicadas scream. The air thickens.
Steve sees it the second it lands. The way your posture folds inward, instinctive and familiar. Like your body remembers this feeling even if you do not want it to.
You do not argue. You swallow hard, eyes shining, lashes clumping as tears gather despite your effort to stop them.
âI didnât mean it like that,â Steve says quickly, panic creeping in.
But then he sighs, stubbornness digging its heels in, fear winning over instinct.
âMaybe you could give me some space,â he mutters. âYou donât have to be so much all the time.â
The word settles between you.
It has weight. History. Teeth.
Your eyes glass over completely now, hazel gone distant and wet. Steve feels sick watching you try to hold yourself together, like you are bracing for something you recognize too well.
You nod once. Slow. Careful.
âOkay,â you whisper, voice cracking in the middle.
You turn away, grabbing your shoes, then his hoodie from the back of his chair. You pull it over your head, drowning in the fabric, sleeves swallowing your hands. It smells like him. Familiar and cruel.
You pause at the door as if you were waiting for him to say something. Anything. Stop you before you walked away.
And Steve does, thinks about stopping you before you disappeared behind the door. About crossing the room and pulling you back. About saying anything to undo what he has just done.
But he does not move.
The door closes softly behind you.
The house feels hollow immediately.
âââàšà§âââ
The next morning, the quiet is wrong.
Steve stands in his kitchen with a piece of burnt toast and the radio murmuring low. Sunlight spills through the window at the wrong angle, too harsh, too bright. The air smells stale.
You usually sit on the counter while he eats, swinging your legs, stealing bites off his plate. You usually leave your mug in the sink even when you swear you will wash it.
The counter is empty.
He tells himself you just need a day.
By the second day, the absence presses in.
Your toothbrush is still in his bathroom. Your shampoo still fogs the mirror after his shower. The hoodie you took is gone. That absence hurts more than he expects.
He replays the fight while he drives. While he showers. While he lies awake staring at the ceiling fan.
You always need something from me.
You donât have to be so much.
Each time, the words rot a little more.
He thinks about the way you love. Openly. Without apology. He thinks about how brave it was for you to relearn that after someone taught you love was conditional.
And he crushed it.
âââàšà§âââ
By the third day, you stop showing up entirely.
Not at Family Video. Not at the diner where you always wait for him after shifts. Not at the radio station, where you usually sit cross-legged on the floor, flipping through magazines while Dustin rambles and Lucas debates song choices with Robin. Max does not ask where you are, but she notices. Mike notices too. El asks once, quietly.
Steve has no answers.
Robin notices most of all.
She leans across the counter, squinting at the door for the sixth time that hour.
âOkay,â she says slowly. âWhere is she.â
Steve keeps his eyes on the tapes he is stacking.
âSheâs busy.â
Robin hums. âThatâs funny. Because she has never been busy when youâre on shift. Ever.â
He shrugs, jaw tight. âMaybe she just wanted space.â
Robin watches him closely now. He has been pacing between songs, snapping at callers, rubbing at his chest like something hurts there.
âShe didnât wave yesterday,â Robin says. âAnd she always waves.â
Steve swallows.
By the fourth day, the guilt is unbearable.
It settles in his chest, heavy and unmoving. He smells you everywhere. In his car. In his room. In the space beside him in bed that stays cold.
Robin corners him when he has worn a path into the floor.
âNo,â she says. âYou donât get to keep doing this. Spill.â
He breaks.
Tells her about the fight. The word he used. The way your body folded in on itself like a learned response.
Robinâs face softens, then hardens.
âYou knew better,â she says quietly.
âI know,â Steve whispers. âI love that she needs me. I love being the place she comes to.â
âThen go prove it,â Robin snaps. âBecause right now she thinks she was wrong for trusting you.â
That does it.
âââàšà§âââ
Your room smells like clean laundry and salt.
You are curled on your bed, knees tucked tight to your chest, Steveâs hoodie wrapped around you like armor. Your arms are crossed over yourself, shoulders rounded, like you are trying to take up less space in the world.
The knock at your door is tentative.
You do not answer.
Another knock.
âPlease,â Steveâs voice says, quiet and wrecked. âIâm here.â
You open the door slowly.
He stands there holding a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, the ones you once said reminded you of late summer evenings. His hair is messy. His eyes are red. His chest rises and falls unevenly.
The moment he sees you, something in him caves in.
You look smaller. Tired. Defeated. Wrapped in his hoodie, arms tight around yourself like you are afraid to reach out.
His chest aches.
âOh,â he breathes. âHoney.â
You say nothing.
Steve starts talking immediately, words spilling out like he is afraid silence will swallow him.
âIâve been thinking about what I said. About how I said it. And I hate myself for it. I was scared and overwhelmed and instead of being honest, I hurt you. I never want you to feel like you have to shrink around me. Ever.â
You nod slightly, eyes fixed on the floor.
âI love how much you care,â he continues, voice breaking. âI love that you want to be close to me. I love that you choose me. I hate that I made you question any of that.â
You hesitate before speaking, voice barely there.
âI didnât want to say the wrong thing.â
Steveâs heart breaks clean in two.
âYou canât say the wrong thing to me,â he says softly. âNot like that.â
He steps closer, slow, giving you time. When he reaches out, he does not grab you. Just rests his hand over your crossed arms, grounding, warm.
âYou donât have to take up less space,â he murmurs. âYou fit with me.â
Tears slip free.
You lean into him finally, forehead pressing into his chest. He wraps you up immediately, holding you like he has been starving for it.
Inside, he makes you tea. Sits with you on the bed. Lets you curl into his side without pressure. You are quiet, tentative, like you are afraid of asking for too much.
When you lie down, he follows, careful, pulling the blanket up around you both. You face each other, knees brushing.
âIâm here,â he whispers. âIâm not leaving.â
You breathe him in. Soap. Warm cotton. Home.
Slowly, you relax.
Your hand finds his shirt. He freezes, then softens, pulling you closer.
âYou can need me,â he says. âI want you to.â
Your eyes finally meet his.
âI missed you,â you whisper.
âI missed you every second,â he replies, kissing your forehead, then your temple, then your cheek.
You fall asleep like that, tucked into his chest, his arms wrapped tight around you.
you turned into your worst fears and you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain, crossing out the good years!
summary: steve harrington used to be the person you'd go to for anything but after the events of 86', the invisible string between you has been severed beyond repair. after vecna cursed you and max, perhaps luck was on your side as she lay still in hawkins hospital; but was it really luck if you're stuck between dustin and steve at each others throats in the upside down, voicing opinions you thought you could repress for the rest of your life?
warnings: set in s5 but briefly covers previous seasons, angst, loneliness, cursing, mentions of death, steve's a little mean but we cover why in the next part, generally sad reader, angsty-ish ending (for now!), slight change in plot, we love nancy wheeler in this house, 1K word intro / exposure whaaaattt
(this is pure angst i'm sorry (not really) but there will be a part two! ...and maybe part three idk i'm improvising / also i'm pro-yapper so everything is super extended it's becoming an issue lol)
word count: 4.7K
part two,, part three,,
steve harrington x fem!reader
(STRANGER THINGS S5 VOLUME 2 SPOILERS)
đđđđđđđđđđđ đđ đđđ 'good times' simply solidify the ideology that theyâre never coming back. What was once the life you lived freely, unaware of the sheer jealousy your future self would feel, was now only a memory, something you wished you could live vicariously through.
But who could blame a girl for wanting the days where she wasnât tormented by another being that she had failed, let down everyone she loved and the mere existence of her was at the expense of someone else, someone more innocent and had life behind her eyes.Â
Youâd prefer to say that Hawkins was like living in hell than go down the wormhole of suppressed feelings. And the fact that you couldnât leave this mess of a town due to the military quarantining you and everyone you wished to avoid, validates your statement that Hawkins had it out for you.
Everyone suffered in the spring of 1986, the group was severed and discovered that everything they thought they knew about the Upside Down was wrong; everything they had already fought was just the beginning.
Over time, everyone moved on. Distanced themselves from the reality they lived out 18 months ago and focused on the now, how they could save Hawkins after Vecna had fulfilled his promise.
But itâs harder to move on when it shouldâve been you lying in Hawkins Hospital, heart monitor steady and face pale, your body still as the doctor insisted you were in a coma. You shouldâve been sick of the stench of the hospital, annoying everyone that came to visit you as you showed no signs of waking up anytime soon.Â
It shouldâve been your walkman resting on the bedside table, headphones draped loosely around your neck after everyone got fed up of hearing the same song on repeat, binning out the boombox and preferring to have the music reserved for your ears only.
But it wasnât you. In some twisted reality you called normality, Max Mayfield was the one who suffered the fate that was designed for you.
You visited her often, not only because you babysitted her throughout her childhood and made it known to everyone that she was your favourite of the group, but because your endless guilt forced you to sit in the chair beside her bed, staring at the reminder that you had failed; and everyone around you was too nice to say it to your face.
In the time that you had held Maxâs hand with your own clammy palm, you had grown accustomed to seeing Lucas almost every day and muttering the same mantra to his hopeless face: âIâm sorry. I did everything I could.â
And Lucas would interrupt you every time, âDonât ever be sorry. Iâm glad youâre here.â
At least someone could put a soft smile on your face as Hawkins crumbles around you.
You wished you could confide in him but he was still a kid battling with his own issues, high school still relevant as he tried to keep the town from falling apart, the love of his life was unconscious and his best friend had changed severely within the 18 months, much like the rest of you.
One name rang around your mind as you searched for an output, someone you wished you could let in and not feel so alone. But whatever friendship or connection you had with Steve Harrington was in the past, and it seemed adamant to stay there.
Oh, Steve Harrington. The man you would go to for anything, whether that was fighting inter-dimensional creatures or dragging someone along to the movie you had been dying to watch and knew you could convince him with the promise of paying for him; although he would never let you, he preferred to enjoy your company.
You remembered the way he refused to let go of your hand as you ventured below Starcourt Mall and how he promised he would keep you safe as you sat back to back, mind running a million thoughts as you dreaded what the Russians would do to you.
How could you forget when you sat on the bathroom floor, sandwiched in the stalls between Steve and Robin as their words were prompted by the âtruth serumâ. And how Steve admitted that he had fallen in love with someone else after Nancy Wheeler.
Of course, his admission was cut short by Dustin barging into the bathrooms, his posture reeking of stress and urgency, enough to get the three of you on your feet and any further words trapped behind the burning walls of Starcourt Mall.
Then as Vecna forced his way into your lives and targeted you and Max, you felt your sanity snatched out from under your feet and Steveâs hands to support you as you convinced yourself you were losing your mind.
He used to have your walkman and favourite song tucked into the backpack Dustin carried everywhere, refusing to let you leave the house or out of his sight without it in touching distance. Youâd tell him that it was manifesting a bad outcome, but heâd scoff and say, âI donât care. As long as youâre safe.â
To say you were fond of Steve Harrington was an understatement. You had been harbouring a crush on him for a while now, but who didnât?Â
How could you not fall for Steve âThe Hairâ Harrington?
Steve with his perfect hair and handsome face, with a laugh you could recognise anywhere. Perhaps it was the way he looked at you that made it easy to become enamoured with him, how his eyes would soften whenever you spoke up and how even in the darkest times, he would cup your face and make sure the only thing you saw was him.
You could feel the ghost of his hand brush against the small of your back whenever you stood alone in the group as they discussed the crawls, reminding you of the man that now stood on the opposite side of the room to you and how he used to be your anchor back to reality.
You were told good things never last, but you never put Steve Harrington into the category of things you could lose.
You found yourself pushing him away the second Max closed her eyes and they never reopened. The last words Steve spoke directly to you were reassurances whispered into your hair, his arms wrapped around your frame as your body shook from hearing the final chime of the clock, confirming your fears that Max had been cursed one final time.
You shut yourself out from everyone. It was expected, but no one made the effort to drag your past self back to the surface, leaving her drowning in the sorrow that the spring of 86â provided.
You understood that it shouldnât be you standing here listening to the group relay ideas for the crawl, it shouldâve been a redhead tucked under Lucasâ arm who mocked any stupid ideas that Mike would throw out.
To remove yourself from the equation was easier than accepting that the past cannot be changed.
If your lack of inclusion in the group was the closest you could reach to the fate that was written under your name, then it was what you would conform to. No matter how much it hurts to feel pitying eyes on your form.
"đđđđ, đđđđ đđđđđ really promising.â Steve sighed as his flashlight scaled the walls of the lab, falling behind Dustinâs hurried steps.
How you found yourself in the Upside Downâs version of Hawkins Lab with Steve, Nancy, Jonathan and Dustin and tensions high was a question you wished you could say was unanswered. But after driving Steveâs precious beamer into a wall and following Dustinâs throw-in-the-dark idea, your day had already decided to suck.
âWeâre in the lobby.â Dustin huffed. If you thought you were outward with your uncomfortable situation with Steve, Dustin made sure he won that argument.Â
You walked beside Nancy as she furrowed her brows at the surroundings, âAnd⊠where are we going exactly?â She tilted her head.
âRight. Like, what is it weâre looking for?â Jonathan asked as he looked at Dustin. âYouâve all seen Return of the Jedi?â Dustin said.
You stumbled to a stop as your heart clenched uncomfortably. You were the one who introduced the franchise to Steve. When he secured his job at Family Video beside you and Robin, you made sure he knew some recent films and found yourselves brushing shoulders on movie nights and watching his brows screw up as he tried to understand the plot.
You felt a pair of eyes burning into the side of your face. âThe one with the teddy bears?â Steve mumbled.
âEwoks.â You and Dustin said in unison, âYeah, itâs the best one.â Steve responded.
Nancy raised her eyebrows, âIs it?â Dustin scoffed, âNo, but every child loves it, so tracks.â You pressed your lips together to prevent a small smile from appearing on your face. Nancyâs eyes flickered to you and noticed, her eyes softening as she watched a glimpse of your past self slip out.
âIn the film, if you recall,â Dustin stepped forwards, âthe rebels need to destroy a second Death Star, but itâs surrounded by a protective energy shield, which is created by a shield generator.â
âYeah, cool. Thanks for the summary of a movie weâve all seen.â Steveâs voice echoed around the lifeless lobby. Of course he remembered the film, despite watching it to satisfy you only, he understood the context to some extent.
âIt could be relevant, Steve.â You cleared your throat, eyes glancing his way as he turned around to face you, his expression unreadable.
Dustin nodded in your direction, âThank you!â He gestured to you before continuing his analogy, âLook, I think this circular flesh wall is Vecnaâs version of an energy shield, except itâs not sci-fi.â
âItâs supernatural, created by Vecnaâs dark magic. And this dark magic shield is whatâs preventing us from reaching him and saving Holly.â You crossed your arms over your chest as the group huddled around Dustin. âBut if my math is correct, the generator for the shield has to be in this lab.â He finished.
Jonathan stood between you and Steve, âSo if we find this dark magic shield generatorâŠâ Even hearing the words come out of someone elseâs mouth felt strange, you couldnât believe you had been roped into this again.
Dustin nodded, âWe destroy the wall.â You fiddled with your flashlight, âFind Vecna.â
âSave Holly.â Nancy finished your sentence, her sister being at the forefront of her mind.
âMedals for all.â You offered Dustin a tight smile as his sarcastic enthusiasm had you wanting to find this shield generator as soon as possible, needing to breathe after being suffocated in the uncomfortable tension.
Steve placed his hands on his hips, âAnd it looks like what?â
âHow would you expect me to know that?â Dustin rolled his eyes and turned his back on the group. You let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed your face with your hands, squeezing your eyes shut and hoping that when they reopen, itâll all be some sick illusion.
Steve scoffed as he watched the tension build in your shoulders, âIf youâre gonna complain then you should just leave now. This wasnât exactly our ideal location.âÂ
You lifted your head and realised Steveâs annoyance was directed at you. Your face screwed up with confusion and your eyes darted between Nancy and Jonathan, âIâm not complaining. Whereâd you get that from?â
Steve opened his mouth to retort but Nancy took a step forward to follow in Dustinâs trail, âWe donât have time for this.â She ordered and nodded for you to follow, not seeing her shoot Steve a disappointed gaze.
Jonathan cleared his throat to diffuse the tension, leaving Steve behind the pack and eyes trained on the back of the person he used to call his best friend.Â
Dustin shouldered the door open and you suppressed a groan when you made eye contact with two flights of stairs. âUp or down?â You asked.
âI say both. Search in two teams. Cover more ground.â Nancy concluded, keeping a tight grip on her bag thrown over her shoulder.
Steve nodded beside you, ignoring the way your shoulders touched in the tight space, âYeah, thatâs cool with me, but can we just switch the teams up?â
Your jaw clenched as you remembered all the times everyone would assume you and Steve were paired together in these situations. You suspected that he would want distance from you but to hear it out loud and under unfortunate circumstances made you want to bash your head into the wall.
âNance, you and me to go up?â Nancyâs head snapped towards the brunette, her eyes wide, âOh, I meanâŠâ She shook her head.
âAre you serious?â Jonathan scoffed. You almost laughed at being situated in the middle of Steve and Jonathan as they battled it out for who could be more âmachoâ, as you and Nancy liked to call it.
âUs three,â Steve gestured at you and Dustin, âWe need some space.â
Jonathan shrugged, âFine. How about me and you? Then her and Nance?â You raised your brows, suddenly on board with the pairing options.
âI think we need some space too.â Steve shut down your ideal groups rather quickly.
âSo everyone but Nancy. Thatâs just⊠Itâs convenient.â Jonathanâs voice dropped as he glanced over at you staring at the floor, âI donât get it. What are you trying to prove to her?â He jutted his thumb out in your direction.
You widened your eyes, âMe?â Steve closed his eyes and shook his head, âThis has nothing to do with her.â
âHow about this?â You raised your voice, hand rubbing your temple as their bickering started to give you a headache, âIâll go alone. Three groups will be more beneficial.âÂ
You lifted your flashlight and went to take a step in the other direction, but Nancyâs hand tugging you on the back of your shirt sent you stumbling back and crashing into Steveâs chest.
âYouâre not going alone.â Nancy said firmly, refusing to let you out of anyone's sight.Â
You readjusted your footing and brushed your clothing as you leaned out of Steveâs touch, âOf course you wanted to go alone.â You heard him mutter under his breath.
Before you could respond, Nancy cut you off. âHey, we donât have time for this. Letâs just keep it simple, stick to the usual teams.â She shot you an apologetic look.
âNance, please--â You groaned as Steve and Dustin offered her the same pleas, âI canât--â
âEnd of discussion.â She raised her voice, her feet taking her up the stairs and avoiding the three frustrated looks directed at her. Jonathan patted you on the shoulder and whispered an apology under his breath as he brushed past you and followed Nancy, leaving Steve and Dustin to sigh in the wake.
Steve sighed and looked over at Dustin, âAwesome.â He said sarcastically. Dustin raised his brows and dragged his feet down the extensive amount of steps.
Steve turned to you and you looked up at him. You could recall the days when his eyes would soften when they met your own, a smile gracing his flushed face and hands raised to fix his hair, desperate to constantly look his best whenever you saw him.
Now those eyes felt like a void, you couldnât decipher what he was feeling. âJust awesome.â He repeated and barged your shoulder slightly as he passed you.
You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, easing the tension and headache that was brewing. You reminded yourself that this was for the greater of Hawkins because if it was up to you, you would have sprinted out of the lab at the first chance than explore with your ex-best friend and the kid that hates his guts.
With each step you took, you felt the throbbing pain in your head get worse. It wasnât unusual to get migraines with the stress you found yourself under constantly, but this one felt different.Â
It felt familiar.
The pain caused you to feel lightheaded, tripping on the last step and forcing a hand out on the wall to catch your fall. You clenched your teeth together and pressed the heel of your hand against your temple.
Steve heard heavy footsteps behind him and turned around, the beam of his flashlight shining right in your face, âYou alright?â He asked, voice teetering on edge of concern.
You nodded and stuck a hand out to block the light shining at you, âYeah, Iâm good.â You lied through your teeth, pushing through the ache to follow Dustin who led the pair of you.
Steve nodded slowly and retracted his flashlight, âOkay, that was too many stairs.â He joked weakly, trying to diffuse the worry that flooded his body.
Dustin, unaware of the torment you were experiencing behind him, quoted, âTreasures are always hidden in the deepest depths of the dungeon.â
âWhat is it, a treasure or a magic shield generator? Keep your metaphors straight, dude.â Steve said as he turned his back on you.
You sighed, âAnalogy.â You whispered to yourself, correcting his statement but lacking the care to fight with him once again.
Steve and Dustin strode forward, pushing on the double doors to reveal a room designed for kids. Rainbows were painted on the floors and walls and games were scattered all over the floor.
âDid not expect to find a daycare in this hellhole.â Steve felt his heart rate pick up at the dystopian room, âThatâs a perk.â
You entered the room and leaned your back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut as it felt like someone was toying with your brain, prodding at it until you cracked. You didnât even notice begin to leave the room until his frustration boiled over.
âWhile I search the rest of the basement, why donât you stay here and play with your balls?â He chucked the object back at Steve, âPerfect, yeah.â Steve clenched his jaw.
The pair bickered back and forth before Dustin left with a scowl on his face. You leaned over to watch his figure retreating and turned to Steve who hoisted himself up to sit on one of the desks.
You interrupted the silence, âSo I take it you two donât get along anymore.â You crossed your arms over your chest and pushed yourself to stand upright.
Steve scoffed, âWhat would you know? You havenât been here.â
Your movement halted, âIâve been here.â You squinted at him as he rested his elbows on his knees.
âYouâve been here,â Steve gestured to your figure, âBut here,â He tapped the side of his head, tongue wedged between his teeth in frustration, âYouâre somewhere else. And you have been for the last 18 months.â
Your breathing shallowed, âThatâs called grief, Steve. We all go through it.âÂ
âBut what are you grieving? Thatâs what I donât get.â He snapped, eyes meeting your own as you shrunk under his hard gaze.
âMax.â Her name felt wrong on the tip of her tongue. You refused to say it for months after she was admitted into hospital, the reminder of the redhead had you wanting to hurl on the floor of the lab.
Steve let out a loud laugh, âYouâre grieving someone thatâs not even dead! What are the chances that Max wakes up during all of this? Pretty damn high if you ask me.â He ran his hand through his hair and watched your face screw up in sheer disgust at his words.
Steve licked his lips, âYou know, I think you secretly wanted this.â
You felt your heart stop in your chest, âWhat?âÂ
You watched the brunette nod, âI think youâve been spiralling for a while now and used this whole Max and Vecna situation as an excuse. You were barely affected during the curse and now youâve decided to make it everyone elseâs problem.â
The difference is, you were affected. And Steve knew it.
Who was the one who held you as you recalled your first vision, hands shaking and kisses peppered along your hairline. The same man who basically told you that you had it easy that spring, that youâre living off the thrill of being cursed a handful of times.
You turned your back on him, âIâm not doing this right now.â You heard him shout as you pushed the double doors open, âShutting me out once again!â
You hurried out the room, not baring to stand the sight of his face again. You feel a bile rise in the back of your throat, the noises of the dormant lab suffocate you, and the throbbing pain between your skull intensifies.
You hadnât noticed anything was wrong until you saw a drop of red stain your sweater. Your head snapped down and tugged at the material to gain a closer look.
Your eyes widened and you lifted your hand to touch under your nose. Retracting your hand, you saw that the tips of your fingers were painted red.
âShit.â You cursed and tugged the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, wiping the blood that streamed from your nose onto the material.Â
You furrowed your brows as you racked your brain for the last time your nose decided to spontaneously bleed. It was so out of the ordinary that you couldnât remember.Â
A light behind a door caught your eye. It looked out of place, like whatever was behind it was not meant to be there. Your feet carried you towards it before your brain comprehend what was going on.
Just as you placed the palm of your hand against the door, inches away from pushing it open, you heard a loud crash from the room you were previously in.
Your mind running a million different worst case scenarios, you sprinted towards the noise. As you got closer, you heard familiar yells and curses, the sound of items cluttering to the floor made your heart pick up.
Skidding around the corner, you stumbled into the room panting. Your eyes locked onto Steve as he sat up, groaning in pain, âYou know what, man? Iâm done.â He slowly clambered to his feet, ignoring your worried gaze.
âIâm done!â He shouted and barged against your shoulder as you stood in the doorway, eyes flickering between a beaten Dustin on the floor and Steve who had a fresh bruise forming on his cheek.
Putting two and two together, you tugged Steve back by gripping onto his jacket, âWhat the fuck just happened?â You raised your voice, on the heels of Steve as he tried to shake off your hold.
âNone of your business.â His voice broke as he refused to spare Dustin a second glance, hearing his voice echo down the hallways, âYou dumb, fake asshole!â
You let out an exasperated sigh and swallowed your nerves, âI think itâs my business when you scare the shit out of me!â You yanked him to a stop and he looked past you, âIs that a bruise?â
Your fingers gently brushed the underside of Steveâs jaw before he slapped your hand away, âNo--â âDid you get in a fight?â You furrowed your brows.
Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, âCan you stop?â His eyes locked onto the blood staining the sleeve of your sweater, furrowing his brows as he wondered when you had gotten hurt.
Through your concern, you failed to hear him, âTell me what the hell happened--â
âGod! Youâre so ungrateful!â Steve yelled and you flinched slightly at the tone of voice, one he had never used on you before.
You squinted up at him, âUngrateful?â You voiced your offence as your hands dropped from tending to his recent wounds, and his own dropped off your shoulders, finding home in gripping his jeans.
Steve bit down on his bottom lip as if what was spewing out of his mouth was the filtered half, âYouâre standing here and breathing just fine by yourself! But guess who isnât?â
Your breath hitched as your mind went to Max who lay still, hooked up to anything the hospital could find to classify her condition to be a coma, âWhere are you going with this?â Your voice wavered.
âIâm saying that Max wouldâve been grateful.â Steveâs response was enough to sever any chance of redeeming what you had. You could barely recognise the man standing in front of you, the one so overcome with anger that he wouldnât understand the severity of his words until moments later.
You took a deep breath, âAnd Iâm saying that youâre being a dick.â
âYou got lucky that spring and you know it.â You took a step back from him, âYouâre being mean, Steve.â
Steve looked down and huffed out a laugh, âAnd weâve been telling you this whole time, âItâs not your fault. You couldnât have done anything.ââ You felt tears prickle at your eyes, âIn my opinion, I think you couldâve done more--â
âShut up!â You shouted and shoved him in the chest. âAnd if you hadn't left Max alone that nightâŠâ
Tears blurred your vision, âAre you saying that it shouldâve been me?â
The silence shouldâve been your answer. You shouldâve left the second Steve didnât immediately shut down the ludicrous statement. But your heart yearned to know the truth, to know what he had really thought about you since that night; if everything between you was simply a wrinkle in time, something that was never meant to exist but would ultimately be crushed by the harsh reality.
âYour interpretation. Not mine.â Steve mumbled.
You felt like you had been doused with cold water. It turns out Steve Harrington was the same man he was all those years ago. And to confirm your worst fears, to admit that heâd been lying to you the entire time you thought you could be falling in love with him; this was definitely the worst moment in your entire life.
You nodded weakly, a forced smile etched across your face, âAnd Iâm the one whoâs changed, right?â
Your words hit Steve like a truck, and if you disappearing out of his sight with tears cascading down your cheeks didnât hurt enough, then the realisation of his words did.
đđđđđ, đđđđđđđđ, đđđđđ and Dustin had all found each other after. They were hunched over the book Dustin had found before he could warn Nancy to not shoot whatever force they located in the sky.
Nancy chewed on the skin around her thumb, âNo sign of her?âÂ
Dustin shook his head after peering around a corner, âI havenât seen her sinceâŠâ His voice trailed off as he remembered his fight with Steve, regret forming in the pit of his stomach as a bruise formed on his friendâs cheek.
Steve looked like he could throw up any second. His face was pale and his hair was matted. He hadnât seen you since he had said the words he wished he could forget, the way he had spoken to you and the way your face crumbled.
He didnât mean any of it. Not one word.
He wishes to never relive the feeling he felt when he watched you walk away from him, and how he rounded the corner to meet Nancy and Jonathan and you werenât beside them.
You were alone in the lab. And it was all Steveâs fault.
His ever present guilt was cut off but a guttural scream outside the lab. Nancy rose to her feet immediately and gasped, âWhat was that?â
Jonathan copied her movement, âWhat was what?â
Silence fell over the group as they listened in, âHolly.â Nancy whispered and dropped the items in her hand, sprinting towards the door with Jonathan hot on her tail.
Dustin made a move to follow them but Steve grabbed him by the arm, âHolly. Sheâs out of Vecnaâs reach.â His chest tightened.
Dustin furrowed his brows, âWhat do you mean?â
âThereâs 12 kids. If Hollyâs outâŠâ Steve muttered and Dustinâs eyes widened in realisation.
âWhoâs in?â Dustinâs voice wavered and watched Steveâs eyes dart around the room.
Steve knew who Vecna was targeting the second his suspicions were confirmed. He remembered the blood staining the sleeve of your sweater, the headaches that made you feel dizzy and the way you looked uncomfortable the second you found yourself in the Upside Down.
You were Vecnaâs next target and Steve Harrington had no idea where you were.
some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, âwhatâs the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?â and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is âunofficialâ, and we know thatâs not the right word, but itâs the only word we can come up withâŠuntil finally itâs like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is âartificialâ.
we donât talk enough about taskmaster being on youtube for free. i donât mean someone uploaded the episodes to youtube i mean The Official Taskmaster Youtube has every single episode on their channel, in their entirety, For Free. they want their show to be internationally available for everyone to watch. every episode goes up the day after it airs in the uk. you can just go watch the entire show legally. for free. on youtube. go do that!!
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: youâre 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 viâs 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, iâll 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 athleteâs donât get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.
fic soundtrack:
i could imagine âalina baraz /snooze â sza /tonight â summer walker / pressure â james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could â umi
authorâs note: of course itâd be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though iâm pretty rusty; sheâs been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T
iâll 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 sheâd 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 donât slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sisterâs graduating high school soon and sheâs 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, itâs you.
In hindsight, sheâs been relatively good at overlooking you, not that itâd 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 everyoneâs vying for even a shred of her attention.
Perhaps itâs what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that sheâs probably one of the most valuable players on the uniâs hockey team (sheâs an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that sheâs a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, sheâs a player.
Not necessarily that youâve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and youâve 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 itâs pitiful, but itâs not like itâs 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 tonightâs celebration.
Sheâd sunk the winning shot, and for that sheâs being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven sheâs practically hammered and itâs 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 itâs funny, has Vi feeling like sheâs 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, sheâs grateful to finally breathe.
With a plastic cup full of water, sheâs 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.
âJesus, fuck,â Vi hisses to herself. âYou scared the shit outta me.â
You donât even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.
âSorry,â you hum passively.
She catches her breath, doesnât 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.
Itâs her first good look at your face and Viâs 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 sheâs ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.
âItâs rude to stare, Violet,â 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.
âYou know who I am?â she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face arenât blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.
âWho doesnât?â you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.
And perhaps you got her there, but Viâs feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.
âIâ fuck,â Vi stumbles, cheeks red because youâre looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. âWhatâs your name?â
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 athleteâs usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.
â________,â you offer.
She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling youâre giving her is.
âAnd you go to school here?â she asks.
You nod once.
âNeuroscience, fourth year.â
âHuh, weâre in similar fields, but Iâve never seen you around,â Vi observes. Because sheâs certain sheâd bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.
âWe had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,â you say matter-of-factly, like youâre not blowing her mind right now. âAnd Iâm auditing Medardaâs biometry class this semester.â
Viâs floored.
âWait, wait, but...â Sheâs trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brainâs still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because sheâs caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.
âI pop in every once in a while,â you tell her. âBut I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I donât have any appointments.â
âHold on, this is nuts,â Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesnât realize sheâs practically yelling. âThereâs no way, I definitely wouldâve remembered you if that was the case.â
You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.
âDoubt it,â you counter. âIâm nothing particularly spectacular.â
âNothing particularly spectacular,â Vi repeats under her breath.
And under normal circumstances, sheâd 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 sheâs 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 youâre turning your attention to the device.
âDD duties call,â is all you say as you make a move to stand up.
No, this canât be all she gets from you tonight. Not when sheâs been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and youâre just now coming to light.
The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Viâs gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.
âMaybe Iâll see you around?â 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.
âMaybe.â
Vi decides that she needs to see you again.
Youâd left her with crumbs this past Friday night and sheâd spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.
âJesus, youâre down bad,â Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.
âYou donât understand,â Vi defends. âSheâs so...so...â
âSo?â
âDifferent, I dunno,â Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. âWe didnât even talk about much, but that was the most normal Iâve felt around someone in a while.â
Her teammate snorts.
âProbably the gayest thing Iâve heard you say,â Ellie deadpans. âShe isnât immediately trying to munch and youâre already in love. Pathetic.â
âOh, fuck off,â Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. âTrust me, if you met her, youâdââ
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 friendâs line of vision to find exactly what sheâs staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.
From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Viâs immediately hooked.
âHah,â she makes a noise in her throat. âOkay, so maybe it makes sense.â
Vi canât help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafeâs ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and itâs so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.
âHate to break it to you, though. That girlâs way out of your league,â Ellie says like itâs common knowledge.
âWow, way to boost my ego,â Vi mutters drily.
âJust being realistic,â Ellie argues. âIf you bag her, sheâs easily the hottest girl youâve been with.â
And Vi canât really contest that, not when the proofâs in the fucking pudding.
Her bodyâs moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, sheâs mumbling quiet sâcuse meâs 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.
âShit, sorry, sorry. I didnât mean to scare you,â Vi says quickly.
Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.
âViolet,â you acknowledge.
And she realizes that she didnât really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadnât thought through the rest of it.
The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesnât have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.
âCan I help you?â you ask, but not unkindly.
âOh, uh, I...â 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. âYou mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.â
You donât even bat an eye.
âI did.â
âYouâre also auditing Medardaâs biometry class.â
âI am.â
âIâm...Iâm not really doing too hot in Medardaâs right now,â Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! Sheâs doing phenomenally in Medardaâs session and, truthfully, sheâs just downright scared to ask you to hang out.
Especially when you look up at her like that.
You shift and sheâs swallowing down around nothing.
âHmm, canât have that, can we?â you hum.
Vi could melt.
âNo,â she breathes out a laugh. âCanât.â
âYou can sign up for a slot through the libraryâs website,â you say after you weigh the thought.
Viâs pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.
âSo I can get paid?â you fill in.
âOh, right,â Vi chokes. âRight.â
You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.
âYouâre fucking joking!â
The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where youâre tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.
âMaddie,â you whisper.
âYouâre telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?â Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.
âYeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medardaâs class.â
âJust that?â she asks. âNothing else?â
You look around in disbelief.
âUh, yeah?â you scoff. âWhat else would she want?â
âWhat else would sheâ are you serious?â Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. âYou know all about Vi, youâre actually gonna play stupid?â
âOh, come on.â You roll your eyes. âYouâve seen the girls Violetâs fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? Sheâs got a type and you know it.â
Itâs Maddieâs turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan sheâs staving off.
âNone of that self-deprecating bullshitââ
âItâs not self-deprecating!â you argue. âNot everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.â
âYeah, okay.â
âDonât start.â
âAll Iâm saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Viâs hot as fuck. That being said, youâre also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curlingââ
Youâre rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violetâs 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.
âNo fucking way,â 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, youâve got three minutes before sheâs due to be taking Maddieâs seat.
Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.
âUn-fucking-believable,â you scoff, slumping back in your seat.
âTell me how it goes,â she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.
âMaddie,â you warn.
âLove you, see you at home!â
Violetâs 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.
âHey,â she breathes once breaches your vicinity.
âHi.â
A moment lapses before youâre nodding towards the seat before you.
âWe can get started whenever youâre ready.â
Right. Right! Viâs 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.
âAny particular areas youâre struggling in?â 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 sheâs not really grasping in Medardaâs class, but sheâs been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.
âLogistic regression, probably,â she answers.
âIn relation to...?â You tilt your head and Viâs breath is hitching.
âThe Confusion Matrix,â she answers, even though she knows all about it.
Itâs 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 doesnât realize that she hasnât even blinked until youâre glancing up at her.
âAm I making any sense?â you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violetâs face.
âHuh?â
Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.
âAm I going too fast?â
âNo, no!â 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. âNo, youâre doing great. I get it.â
You donât seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.
Because maybe Maddieâs 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 wonât mesh, thereâs still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.
You donât know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Viâs effort is unwavering. Sheâs probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, sheâs only flubbed once.
You decide to fold your cards first.
âO-kay,â you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. âThis is a good stopping point, donât you think?â
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 youâre probably exhausted.
âYeah, sorry, I didnât mean to keep you so long,â Vi says sheepishly. âThanks a lot for your help, I...â
You look up from where youâre shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.
âI really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week andââ
She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.
âItâs my job, Violet,â you tell her. âIâm happy to help.â
And sheâd 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, donât really think much of it until youâre tabbing to next weekâs 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 oâclock slot every Tuesday and Thursdayâs been booked until the end of the semester.
You refresh for good measure.
âOh, youâre so shitting me.â
You donât know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but youâre not amused.
Especially when youâre stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the womenâs hockey teamâs 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 Andersonâs 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 doesnât visibly vibrate your body.
When the barbell nearly crushes Viâs chest on her last rep, Abbyâs 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.
âOh, hey,â she squeaks.
Truthfully, she hadnât really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought sheâd 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.
âYou have some explaining to do, Violet.â
And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she canât help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that sheâd 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 Viâs going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then youâd give her a show.
âViolet.â
Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Viâs cheeks go red.
Sheâs 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 teammatesâ line of ogling sight.
âVââ
âIâm sorry,â Violet splutters. âIâm just not really confident in Medardaâs class right now and I donât trust myself to study alone, plus youâre a really good tutor andââ
âYou do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?â you ask incredulously. âItâs fifteen dollars an hour.â
Viâs smile is crooked.
âThatâs what my scholarshipâs for,â she grins.
âDonât you think thatâs a bit excessive?â you try again. âI 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.â
âIf itâs taught by you, Iâll take it,â Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?
You donât really have much rebuttal left even though youâd marched up here with a fire under your ass. Viâs looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and sheâs 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.
âAnymore concerns, cupcake?â
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.
âN-No,â you stammer.
âGreat, see you tomorrow?â
You swallow.
âOkay,â you agree. âSee you tomorrow.â
Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.
Her hairâs wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.
âAfternoon, cupcake,â 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.
âWhatâs the lesson today, Teach?â
And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you canât be sure, not when Viâs been somewhat respectful, sweet even.
âWhat do you know about the the sigmoid function?â you probe.
âJack shit,â she laughs.
And maybe youâd find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasnât still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.
âCan I ask you something, Violet?â you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.
âSure, anything.â
âAre you messing with me?â you ask. âIs this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I canât really think of an outcome that would be funny.â
And youâd like to say that the look of horror on Violetâs 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 sheâs 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 thatâll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe sheâs going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.
âNo jokes, just bad at statistics,â she says weakly.
Youâre silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Viâs letting out a breath she doesnât realize sheâs holding.
âFine,â you give in. âLetâs talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...â
Viâs 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 sunâs going down again, and itâs 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.
âHungry?â you ask.
âStarving,â 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 doesnât make a move to reposition herself.
âHave you eaten yet?â she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.
âNot since breakfast,â you admit.
âYou like pizza?â
âOnly the good kind,â you challenge.
âBeautiful,â Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. âI know the best place.â
Valentinoâs 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.
âDid you grow up around here?â Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.
You shake your head.
âNo, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,â you admit easily.
Itâs almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.
Viâs desperate for more.
âAs in?â
You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because youâre not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like sheâs hanging onto every single word you say, so youâre spilling.
âMy dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,â you offer. âAnd I love my siblings. Love my mom. Sheâs 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.â
Violetâs expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.
âWow, Iâm, uh, Iâm really sorry to hear that,â she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before sheâs adding, âfor what itâs worth, I think thatâs very brave of you.â
And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.
âThanks.â You smile. âThatâs sweet of you to say.â
Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.
âYouââ She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesnât know if she can do this on an empty stomach. âYou like pineapple on your pizza?â
âOh yeah,â you confirm proudly. âItâs a hill Iâll die on, Iâm not sorry.â
âGod, marry me now.â
She doesnât realize she says it out loud until youâre bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.
âSo this is something we can agree on?â you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.
âOh yeah,â she parrots instead. âOne hundred percent.â
Valentinoâs becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. Itâs 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.
â...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth gradeââ
You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powderâs little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.
âNow sheâs about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,â she says, obviously proud.
âShe seems like a smart girl,â 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 youâve made also speaks for itself.
âThe smartest,â she agrees. âIâm proud of her.â
âIâm sure sheâs proud of you too,â you assure her. âYouâre a good big sister.â
And itâs in these moments that Vi realizes that sheâs in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that thereâs a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. Youâre 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 sheâs bored, when sheâs in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question thatâs 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 Iâm drunk.
She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.
And then she gets the invite.
Ellie swears itâs her in.
âJesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, youâll bang,â Ellie calls from the couch.
âItâs just tutoring,â Vi argues.
âYeah, at her place,â she scoffs. âAt least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.â
âYouâre a pig,â Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medardaâs assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.
âYouâve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.â
âFuck all the way off.â Viâs face warms because her best friend isnât necessarily wrong.
Youâre too hot for your own good, but you donât 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.
âWhatever, bang, donât bang,â Ellie says nonchalantly. âBlueball yourself for all I care.â
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.
âHi, sorry we couldnât meet anywhere else,â you apologize as you let her into your space. âEven if the library wasnât closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.â
Vi raises a brow.
âMy cat,â you clarify.
âOh.â Vi doesnât know why she suddenly feels like sheâs 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 sheâs clearing her throat.
âWe donât have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. âI wouldâve understood if you had to cancel.â
You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.
âSâokay,â you assure her. âA promise is a promise.â
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 Viâs feet and sheâs a goner.
âHeâs so sweet,â 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, canât help but snap a picture, much to Violetâs dismay.
âStop,â she laughs. âThat picture canât see the light of day.â
âWhy?â 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. âYou and Pip look so cute together.â
She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.
âI have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.â
You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pipâs ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.
âIs he sick?â she asks cautiously, petting him softly.
âJust a little,â you say. âSomething some rest and medicine wonât fix.â
Itâs how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pipâs moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and youâre blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.
Vi knows she shouldnât laugh, but youâre too fucking cute and she canât help but coo at you.
âYou canât tell anyone about this,â you hiccup.
âWhat, that youâre a big soft baby?â she teases.
âVi,â you whimper.
And something in her brain tickles because she canât recall a time youâd ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.
She resists a smile.
âOkay, okay,â she gives in. âLets change the subject.â
You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.
âI actually wanted to ask you something,â she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.
Test the waters, cop a feel.
Viâs not particularly into the idea, but the opportunityâs 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 youâre relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.
âYou doing anything on Saturday?â she asks, really hopes youâll say no.
âNot that I know of,â 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.
âI have a game on Saturday,â Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. âIf you wanted to come.â
You donât agree or disagree immediately, and Viâs scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.
âYou donât have to if you donât wanna, of course,â she says quickly. âI justâ I thought you might be interested in going and Iâd really like to see you there andââ
A small little laugh puffs from your lips.
âOf course Iâll go,â you agree easily.
Vi deflates in relief.
âGreat,â she sighs. âAwesome.â
Vi doesnât know why she invites you. More so, she doesnât know why she tells her teammates that sheâs invited you because now theyâre whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star playerâs gonna get laid.
Doesnât know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, sheâs 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 heartâs soaring and her stomachâs twisting in knots.
Viâs 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 teamâs most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.
Itâs nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.
5â4.
The opposing teamâs giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches theyâve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and youâre right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.
She hadnât realized it before, but youâve 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 sheâs off, like a streak of light in the night sky, sheâs 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, sheâs flinging into the rinkâs 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.
âFuck yeah!â 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.
âFuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?â Abigail Andersonâs spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.
Viâs body heats at the thought, isnât really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Viâs got it so fucking bad for you, she doesnât even know what to do with herself. Youâre her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.
So all she does he shrug, canât help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.
Sheâs 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 contactâs pulled up, and sheâs 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 roomâs doors.
âHey, cupcake,â she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.
âHi, Violet,â 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 sheâs guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.
âThank you for coming,â Vi says after a moment. âYou being here really meant a lot to me.â
You donât know if Viâs always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if sheâs just buttering you up, but you canât help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.
âGod, Violet, you were so good!â you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. âYou were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.â
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 Viâs crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.
âWhatâs this?â Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.
When your expression falters and youâre running back to her at full speed, sheâs holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.
âIs this for me, sweetheart?â she asks presumptuously, even though her heartâs thrumming hard in her ribcage.
Youâre 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.
âMaybe,â you whisper finally.
âMaybe what?â Vi teases.
âMaybe itâs for you,â you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.
âAnd what do I have to do to get it?â 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 youâre contemplating for a moment and Viâs breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if youâre willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.
You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.
âPuck off.â
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 youâve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bagâs thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and sheâs pulling you back into her arms.
âCough it up, sweetheart,â she huffs.
You whine.
âIt was supposed to be a surprise,â you counter.
âGimme, gimme, gimme.â
And you give in because Violetâs made you weak. Sheâs holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.
You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violetâs stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.
âNice job standing in the middle of the walk way,â she bites.
Violet only snorts a laugh.
âWhatever, good game,â she calls.
Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet youâve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.
âCute,â she observes and your skin prickles. âLet me take her for a spin?â
âViolet,â 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.
âLeave it.â
Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Viâs 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.
Youâve 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 youâd smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, youâd absolutely be there.
Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.
âYou look so hot,â she says excitedly.
You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because youâre freezing your ass off!
âYeah?â
Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. Sheâs looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someoneâs probably inside tonight.
âIf she doesnât fuck you before the night ends, I will,â Maddie teases, and youâre warming unceremoniously at the thought.
Because maybe youâve 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 Viâs made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.
Youâd 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.
âOhââ Her voice catches as she takes you in.
Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Viâs gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.
âI wasâ I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,â she stammers.
You breath out a little laugh.
âHere I am.â
âYeah,â she agrees. âHere you are.â
Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violetâs not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed betweenâ
âYou look...â Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuckâ â...really nice.â
You smile, but you canât help the way your teeth chatters.
âFuck, shit, youâre probably cold,â she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. âWhy didnât you wear a jacket? Youâre gonna get sick.â
I wanted you to want me.
âGuess I just forgot,â you say quietly.
She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, sheâs pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and youâre relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.
âCan I get you a cider?â she asks. âItâs still warm.â
It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Viâs truly nothing like what you initially thought. Sheâs sweet, and sheâs respectful, and sheâs everything you could ever hope for.
You freeze at the thought, and Viâs glancing at you when sheâs tugged to a stop.
âYou okay?â 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 doesnât quite reach your eyes because wow, youâre in deep.
âIâm okay,â you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.
When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, sheâs 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 Viâs 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 Violetâs voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.
Youâre caught off caught when Ellieâs directing a question towards you and you barely register.
âWhat do you like to do?â she asks you.
All eyes audibly shift to where youâre cozied up in Viâs lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.
âUh.â
Your words are lodged in your throat because youâre so used to talking Viâs 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 (youâd 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 youâd watched while finishing said projects.
But here, now, you donât know what to say. Not when this isnât your typical crowd and you donât 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.
Itâs okay, is a silent insinuation.
You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.
âI donât do much,â you offer honestly. âJust starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.â
Ellie laughs benevolently.
âYou have a cat?â
âYes, his nameâs Pip, and heâs basically my kid.â
âCute,â Ellie coos. âYou got any pictures?â
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.
âI contemplated naming him Toothless fromââ
ââHow To Train Your Dragon!â Abby fills in from across the couch. âThatâs such a good ass movie.â
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, youâre you, and you just need a little warming up.
She doesnât know how long you and her friends chat for until youâre shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.
âCan you show me the bathroom, please?â
Her gaze flits to her circle, and theyâre 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.
Itâs only when youâre poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.
âCan you help me with my zipper?â 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 shouldnât look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. Sheâs shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.
âThanks,â you whisper, looking up to see that Viâs impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.
âAnytime, sweetheart,â she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.
She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.
âI like this,â she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. âYou look pretty.â
Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. Youâd probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, youâre 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.
âYouâre not gonna say thank you?â she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.
A nervous giggle bubbles.
âThanks, Violet,â you murmur.
ââCourse,â she agrees easily. âYou gonna wear it again?â
You bite.
âIf you ask nicely.â
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.
âCan I?â she husks.
You donât need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.
âYeah,â you sigh. âPlââ
The door rattles with the ferocity of whoeverâs knocking on the other side.
âHurry up in there, I gotta piss!â
To your dismay, the two of you donât talk about Saturday night. And thingsâs arenât particularly bad, but somethingâs definitely shifted and itâs driving you nuts.
Viâs 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 youâre 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 fuckâs bathroom that was over the weekend.
Youâre staring, hard.
Because that familiar feelingâs coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Viâs intentions with you. Sheâd done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image youâd built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.
Sheâs squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. Thatâs when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.
You relax a fraction.
âEverything okay?â
You smile, something small.
âYeah, good,â you assure her.
The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And youâre shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.
Youâre grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.
âUh,â you squeak. âDo you want to come over?â
Viâs pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.
âLike right now?â
You nod because youâve already pulled the trigger.
âLike right now,â you confirm.
She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, sheâd love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach andâ
âSorry,â you say quickly. âYou donât have to, I know we only reallyââ
She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.
âI canât tonight, sweetheart, Iâm sorry,â she says. âBut tell you what, if youâre willing to free up your Friday night, Iâd really like to plan something.â
Your heartbeat skips.
âAll yours,â you say without missing a beat.
Viâs grinning wide.
âPerfect, drive safe,â she bids. âSee you tomorrow.â
And you donât know why youâre so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasnât done anything to make you doubt that this isnât all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.
It doesnât come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Viâs and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.
âAfternoon,â the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. âJust wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.â
You think for a moment before shaking your head.
âNothing in particular that I can think of,â you say easily, then add with a laugh, âfeel like Iâll be a professional by the end of the semester.â
âWhy do you say that?â Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.
âI have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,â you reveal.
She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.
âReally?â
âYeah.â You giggle at the distant memory of Viâs expression in the weight room. âShe seems to be picking it up well enough, though.â
âHuh, every Tuesday and Thursday?â she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. âI must be doing something wrong.â
âIâd hardly say that,â you say. âWhen Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think sheâs just really dedicated to doing well.â
âViolet?â Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.
âYeah, Violet, on the womenâs hockey team?â
Your professorâs eyebrows twitch.
âWhy would youâ huh. Weird,â she comments.
âI admit it was a little strange, butââ
âVioletâs a consistent top scorer on the exams,â Medarda shares. âSheâs been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.â
And itâs 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 youâre due to meet Violet in half an hour.
âUh, if youâll excuse me,â you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professorâs face at your sudden departure. âIt was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, Iâll be sure to email you.â
And youâre running.
Viâs in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because sheâs been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps thatâs everyday as of late.
Sheâs hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and sheâs practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.
sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. Iâm sorry.
Her expression screws up.
everything ok? can i do anything for you?
sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. Iâll see you next week.
Iâll see you next week.
But what about tomorrow? Sheâd 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 youâre a slave to your emotions and you canât help but check your messages every time you know Viâs free.
Itâs a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big gameâs fast approaching.
violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but iâm here if you feel like you need someone <3
Youâre texting back before your better judgement can stop you.
Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?
.
.
.
Then you add, We can smoke.
Viâs 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 Saturdayâs skirt.
Viâs giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you donât do this often, but she shuts right up when you donât break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.
Sheâd picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentinoâs, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after sheâd gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.
âReady?â 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 Viâs thighs squeeze together involuntarily. Sheâd 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. Itâs moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that itâs 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.
âI aced Medardaâs exam this week,â Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.
âOh, yeah? I wonder why,â you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.
âI have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when sheâs motivated,â she answers.
Your cheeks flame, but you donât back down. Viâs been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe youâre 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 youâre going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.
âI have to meet this tutor of yours,â you play along. âShe sounds like a miracle worker.â
âAmong other things,â Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.
âLike?â
âSheâs also funny as fuck,â she hums. âA big baby when we watch Animal Planet.â
You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.
âUh-huh?â
âSheâs really fucking pretty too,â she says quietly.
âYeah?â
âYeah,â she affirms. âKind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.â
You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Viâs putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.
Doesnât even give you a moment to process before sheâs 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.
âThink my tutorâll be mad at me?â Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. ââCuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.â
You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.
âMaybe sheâll forgive you,â you whisper. âI know I would.â
And thatâs all the affirmation Vi needs from you before sheâs taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, youâd think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you canât get enough.
Viâs 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 isnât until sheâs snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that youâre hyper-focusing.
âMmmph, Violet, Viââ 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. âWait.â
She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like youâve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she canât really think of a sound moment if youâre not there.
âSorry, sorry,â she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. âIââ
Iâm caught up. Iâm losing it, and itâs all your fault, andâ
âViolet,â you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. âI have something to say.â
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 itâs exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi canât quite pinpoint.
âYeah, anything,â she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. âYou can tell me anything.â
One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.
âIâ uh, I really like you, Violet,â you admit quietly. âA lot more than I think Iâve ever liked someone in a long, long time.â
Oh.
Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.
âBut?â
The look on your face is devastating and Viâs scared.
âI have to know that if I give you a chance, you wonât abuse it,â you hiccup, and wow, thatâs definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.
âAbuse it?â she repeats, face crumpling.
âViolet,â you sigh.
âAbuse what?â she husks.
âI know youââ
âDo you?â she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. âWhat gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?â
âYou donât necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,â you say, voice edged. âAnd I know that Iâm not your usualââ
âNot my usual what?â The venom in Viâs tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and sheâs frustrated. âNot my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though Iâve been trying to get you to see me for months.â
Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Viâs right. Sheâs never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.
âSue me for wanting to protect myself,â you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. âEspecially because I know that you donât actually need help in Medardaâs class.â
And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.
She clambers back into the driverâs seat.
âWho told you that?â she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.
âI mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,â you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. âShe asked why Iâd be doing that when youâre top of all her sections.â
Violetâs voice is stuck in her chest.
âAnd then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder thatâ,â you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. âAnd it isnât any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upsetââ
âYes, I lied,â Vi admits quietly. âBut only about one thing.â
Your breath catches.
âYouâre right, I donât need help in Medardaâs class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didnât need it,â she says.
âWhy?â
âYou know why,â Vi huffs. âFrom the moment I met you, I knew.â
Itâs a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.
âNo one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,â you choke. âVioletâs fucking that loser?â
âYou really believe that?â
âGod, Violet, I donât know what to fucking believe,â you cry out. âMy lifeâs fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything Iââ
Vi lets out a humorless laugh, canât even look at you and it could make you sick.
âYouâre so fucking loved by everyone, even those who wonât admit it,â you croak. âAnd youâre incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and Iâm just...â
Viâs brows furrow.
âYouâre what?â
âIâm me,â you whisper meekly. âIâm just me and youâre you, and I just donât see what makes me so different.â
And Vi realizes that sheâd read it all wrong.
âLook at me,â she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.
You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.
âYou wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?â she huffs. âBecause I really fucking like you, ________. And itâs beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows Iâd fucking die if you let me. Itâs so much more than having you physically. Because Iâll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I donât give a shit about anything else but you.â
Itâs the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester youâve known her and it makes you cry.
âYou make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I donât need to be anything else but me,â she breathes. âAnd I get where youâre coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.â
âI do,â you whisper. âIâm justââ
Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.
âLetâs get you home, okay?â she offers gently.
Vi only has one more game before the championships and she wonât lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like sheâs going to be ill.
Youâd 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 whatâs weighing on you.
sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. Iâm rooting for you.
She really wishes youâd be there, but she knows you need the time alone.
thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.
âAlright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,â 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.
Itâs a narrow victory once the game ends, but she canât find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.
âWhereâs your little dime piece?â she taunts.
âFuck off,â Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.
âShame,â she whistles. âShe looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat assââ
Ellieâs fist cracks so hard across her jaw.
âShe told you to fuck off,â she hisses.
Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellieâs shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.
âKeep that fucking energy on the ice because Iâm gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.â
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. Thereâs 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 donât really do relationships, but iâd take your mind off of it if you let me.
Youâre playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You donât know what youâre looking at at first, itâs dark, and thereâs so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girlâs naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.
You think this Sev personâs just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someoneâs hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girlâs ass, but then you see it.
The bracelet.
Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.
(1) Because you havenât responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she canât fucking find the bracelet youâd gifted to her.
Sheâs barging into Ellieâs room, shirtless and hair dripping.
âJesus, fuck, do you knock?â Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.
âI canât find the bracelet she gave me,â Vi says quickly.
Ellieâs face scrunches.
âHuh?â
âThe bracelet ________ gave to me,â Vi says. âI hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but itâs not there anymore.â
Ellieâs expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.
âMaybe you misplaced it,â Ellie offers. âRegardless, we practice tonight, Iâll help you look for it.â
Viâs chest is tight, doesnât want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when sheâs on the ice, wonât risk losing it when sheâs 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 shouldâve seen it coming, really. Donât know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the worldâs 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 couldâve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if sheâd 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 Viâs been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions sheâs booked.
You hope sheâd get the message, figure that youâd caught onto her little game and arenât willing to play anymore, but she doesnât, that much is clear when youâre finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.
âAre we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting likeââ
You donât entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you donât trust yourself not to break.
âSeriously?â Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.
âLeave me alone, Violet,â you warn.
âNo, fuck that,â Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. âYou donâtâ You donât get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.â
âFuck you,â you whisper.
âWhat?â
âFuck you, Violet,â you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. âI hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.â
Her face is screwing up and if she wasnât confused before, sheâs definitely confused now.
âListen, I canât fix something if I donât know whatâs wrong,â Vi argues. âIâm so fucking lost right now.â
You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.
âI hate you,â you murmur. âI hate you, I hate you, I hate you.â
Your name comes out broken, like youâve wounded her. But youâve officially folded your hand, wonât dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know itâs not true.
The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.
You hear theyâre live streaming the game, itâs 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 youâre starkly reminded that youâre 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. Youâre so engrossed in the study material that you donât realize someoneâs making a beeline for you until theyâre 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.
âArenât you supposed to be playing?â Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.
âCoach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.â
You humph.
âListen, we donât have much time left, so Iâm going to make this short and sweet,â she says. âWhatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she canât get her shit together because all she can think of is you.â
âAnd thatâs my problem because...?â
âI know that Vi comes off a certain way, but sheâs my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and sheâsââ
âNo offense, Ellie,â you cut her off. âBut if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think thatâs pathetic andââ
âOkay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my pointââ
You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.
âWhatever, I donât have time for this.â
Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, youâre a bitch when youâre mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.
âVioletâs in love with you.â
And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.
âIf you fuck someone else while youâre in love, I want nothing to do with it,â you bite.
Ellieâs brows shoot up.
âWhoa, what?â
âViolet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if thatâs the kind of person she is in love, Iâd rather be alone,â you say stiffly.
âRespectfully, thereâs no way Viâs 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 sheâs been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.â
âThereâs a video.â
Ellieâs 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 Ellieâs expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.
Sheâs handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.
âSheâs fucking dead.â
When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.
Itâs the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3â3.
Your eyes comb the playing area, canât find Viâs jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.
She doesnât clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.
âViâs been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,â Ellieâd told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo sheâd taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. âWe went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.â
The girl from the tunnel, the one whoâd 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 doesnât notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.
Itâs 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 youâre just a figment of her imagination, but then the hornâs blaring and sheâs having to zone back in.
At this point in time, she doesnât give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.
âYour little bitch looks cute tonight,â Sevika comments wolfishly. âBet she tastes as good as she looks.â
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.
âMaybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, youâd wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,â Vi calls, resetting in their corner.
And perhaps youâre 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 timerâs buzzing.
7â5.
The roar is deafening, but youâre 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 donât know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that sheâs flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.
Ellie emerges from the locker room and youâre perking up.
Most, if not all, of Viâs teammates had come and gone and youâd been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.
âSheâs the last one in there,â is all Ellie says before strolling off.
âWhat if...what if she doesnât want to see me?â you ask hesitantly.
Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesnât bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, âFind out for yourself, sweetheart.â
Viâs 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.
âHey,â she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.
âHi,â you squeak.
A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.
âDidnât think youâd make it,â she observes.
And you donât 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.
âEllie told me,â she starts. âWhy you lashed out on me.â
You swallow.
âAnd part of me gets it, I really do,â she continues, âbut I also thought you had more faith in me than that.â
âIâm sorry,â you whisper. âFuck, Violet, Iâm so sorry.â
âI told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,â she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. âI was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.â
You take a step forward, and then another, and another until youâre standing in front of her.
âYou have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,â she says softly, taking your hands in hers.
âI know.â
She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that youâre standing between her legs.
âYouâre right,â she continues, voice hoarse. âI donât have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I donât give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.â
Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.
âThat night, in the car, you said that you didnât see what made you so different.â
âI donât,â 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.
âWe could start off with the obvious.â
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.
âI meant it when I said that youâre the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.â
You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.
âVi.â
âYou got a giant brain,â she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.
She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. Itâs better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.
âPlâease.â
âYouâre kind and youâre selfless, and youâre my sweet, sweet little crybaby.â
âViolet,â you sigh breathlessly. âListen to me.â
âYeah, sweetheart?â
âFuck me,â you pant. âPlease.â
Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.
The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and sheâs 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.
Violetâs already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.
âMaddie home?â she breathes.
âOut of town,â you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. âVisiting her family upstate.â
âPerfect,â Vi hums. âIâve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.â
âOhââ
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.
âCâmere,â she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.
Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.
âFuck.â
âTell me what you want,â she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.
And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.
âWant you inside of me,â you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. âPlease.â
âYeah?â she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. âYou want me to fuck you?â
You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.
âVi.â
Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. Youâre 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.
âF...Fâuck,â you sigh.
âHoly shit,â she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. âYouâre really fucking wet.â
You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and youâre 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 sheâs still fully dressed and youâre 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.
âAh, fuck, Violet.â 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. âFuckfuckfuck.â
She kisses your jaw, litters them until sheâs catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.
You cry out when her fingers slip out.
Sheâs 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 donât miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.
âJesus,â she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. âYouâre so fucking pretty, sweetheart.â
Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Viâs holding your legs apart.
âYou know how bad Iâve been wanting to taste your pussy?â she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you donât answer, sheâs freeing a hand to slap your slit.
âNnngh, fuck!â
âThink Iâve always wanted to have you,â she admits. âBut it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I wouldâve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.â
âYeah?â you whine breathlessly. âTell me.â
Sheâs stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.
âWouldâve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,â she says easily.
And itâs so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Viâs saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like sheâs starved and youâre 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.
âIâm gonna fuckinâ cum,â you choke. âHoly fuck.â
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.
âCâmon, sweetheart,â she encourages you. âCum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.â
âHah, hââ Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. âDonât stop, Vi, please.â
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 sheâs devouring you equally so. Itâs picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and itâs a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.
Itâs 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.
âFuck, babe,â she whispers. âThat was...â
She canât really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that sheâd 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 sheâs ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things sheâd 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.
âViââ Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.
âI know, I know.â
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.
âIâm not done with you yet, sweetheart.â
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 youâre met with cool sheets and swelling dread.
You sit up quickly, find that youâre still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom doorâs cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.
Everything except Vi.
Oh, you think to yourself.
Almost donât 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 sheâd left her mark on you.
The only sign that the entire thing wasnât just a figment of your imagination was Viâs 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 shouldâve known better, the tears well in your eyes because youâd 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.
âBabe?â
Your gaze snaps up.
Like a vision, Viâs standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. Sheâs 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.
âWhatâs wrong?â she worries. âWhatâs going on?â
You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.
âThought you left,â you croak.
Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girlâs such a baby.
âYou have jack shit in your fridge,â she teases lightly. âHow am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?â
You whine.
âDonât care about breakfast,â your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. âJust wanted to wake up to you.â
Violet groans.
âYouâre so cute,â she laughs, kissing the top of your head.
âI wanna go back to bed,â you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.
âYouâre not gonna let me make you breakfast?â 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 thatâs particular, and overarching; one she doesnât think she can go without.
And frankly, she wouldnât have it any other way.
I hope every writer who sees this writes LOADS the next few months. Like freetime opens up, no writers block, the ability to focus, etc etc you're able to write loads & make lots of progress <3