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Vi Smut - Blog Posts
ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕 acting like she not stuck with me for forever ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡
𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: vi's a bit emotionally immature but well-intentioned, slight mention of a past abusive relationship, implied smut at the end, a bit of fluff sprinkled in, very light fingering lmao, i like visualizing the fits of my characters so this was what the reader's wearing but like better, black! reader as always
𝔞/𝔫: finally smth that isn't only a paragraph long 😭, this was going to be smth kinktober related originally but i changed my mind halfway through, i probably WILL be participating in kinktober tho so stay tuned <3
(also reblogs are always welcome. like, always. forever)
“….vi? baby? please tell me what’s wrong. i don’t get why you’re so angry with me.”
for the first time in your two years of being together, she actually ignored you. you slumped in your seat, acrylics beginning to curl into the stretchy fabric of your skirt. unsure of what to do, you gently reached for her right hand, trying to interlock your pinkies (a tradition you guys had ever since your first date). the tip of your nail was barely able to graze the cool metal of her ring before she snatched her arm away, placing both hands back on the steering wheel. she looked agitated, but also lost in thought. sighing in defeat, you turned your head to look out the window, the stars and inky night sky serving as comfort as you toyed with one of your necklaces (vi’s favorite, she usually adored the way it dipped down to the valley in between your breasts, the stark silver standing out beautifully against your dark skin). “well i don’t know how you expect for us to work this shit out if you can’t even explain what the damn problem is, violet.” you were well aware that there was nothing she hated more than being called by her government name, but you had a point to make. and yet, still no response.
the night had started out peacefully enough. the two of you had been invited to a party that night that “what’s-her-name” was hosting (some girl from your psych class, but the don julio always fucked with your memory). you scanned your brain, trying to figure out what the problem was. it wasn’t your outfit (she already fucked you in it earlier, whispering endlessly about how beautiful you were as she shoved her ringed fingers into your cunt, dripping so much it almost stained your new fur boots). it’s not like y’all had any arguments before you left. she had a little bit to smoke, a little to drink, hell it looked like she was having the time of her fucking life as she gripped your hips and caught every ounce of ass you threw at her every time you felt like dancing. so yeah, you were hella lost. you took out your (sadly dying) cart, ghosting the last bit of what was left as you started scrolling on your phone. if she wants to be petty for no reason, then fine. that also happened to be your area of expertise.
it was the most awkward 15 minutes of your life.
“i just don’t know why you had to talk to her”. oh, so now she has something to say.
“i’m not sure if you noticed this, but we were at a lesbian bar, violet. there were a shit ton of “shes” and “hers” present.”
“and out of all of them you still choose to talk to your bum ass ex.”
oh. oh.
like you said earlier, the second even the slightest bit of liquor hits your system ….and suddenly you're not the most reliable of narrators. it’s one of your quirks.
“we literally had a 3 sentence conversation, babe. she said hi, i said hi, she asked how class was going, i said fine, and that was the end of it.” the brief encounter was so irrelevant to you that you didn’t even bother to answer her questions with enthusiasm. for context, the ex in question’s name was niyla, aka the biggest mistake you’ve ever made in your entire twenty-one years of life. you weren’t together very long, just 6 months your freshman year of college, but her toxicity and borderline emotional abuse took its toll on your mental state at the time. every attempt you made at trying to change her behavior failed, every apology that ever came from her mouth was half-assed and empty, and you ran for the hills the moment you could.
but granted, that was a really long time ago, and you were proud to say that you were 100% over her. besides, the queer community at your school was notoriously small, the sapphic side even more so. you accepted the fact that running into her would be inevitable a long time ago. you’ve seen her out and about since the breakup, but this was the first time you’ve actually spoken to her.
vi slightly softened, releasing her vice grip on the wheel and exhaling deeply. “i know, y/n. it’s just…”. she suddenly held your hand again, lightly stroking the pretty henna that decorated it as she tried to find the words. “i can’t stand the fact that she still thinks she has the right to talk to you.” it wasn’t everyday that vi was so…vulnerable. even though she had the utmost amount of trust and respect for you, really sitting down and discussing her thoughts and emotions wasn’t something that came easy to her. you kissed her hand and nuzzled it against your cheek, urging her to continue. “she treated you like absolute garbage…i just don’t want you to get swept up in all that bullshit again, you know?” you listened intensely, absorbing every single word as your heart began to swell with love.
she chuckled humorlessly, seemingly dismissing her thoughts. “but i guess i should’ve just started off with that rather than giving you the silent treatment. my therapist always talks about how i need to work on my ‘communication skills’. or ….something like that.” her eyes, deeply apologetic, glanced down at yours. “forgive me, cupcake?”
“mmm, maybe. on one condition”. truth is, you already forgave her the moment she explained herself, but god, seeing her all sincere and introspective did something to you. a mischievous smirk graced your features as you took the hand that was still caressing your cheek and began trailing it down your body. vi’s eyes widened as she felt the dampness of your thin lace panties, slick slowly starting to gush out as your face got hotter and hotter. “you have to make it up to me.”
AINT NO WAY @abbygf GOT DEACTIVATED CAN SOMEONE PLEASE HELP FIND REBLOGS IM CRYINGG (especially of the stepmom sevika p1 and 2 😭🙏 - i got it guys :DDD)
these are the ones i've found so far
omg y'all i recently watched a play through of tlou2 and fell in love with abby now this is making me think of all the content i missed time to cry again-
punching the fucking walls that was so cute i’m a mess
— come a little closer
hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]
synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.
content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.
fic soundtrack: i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi
author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol
main masterlist | arcane masterlist
VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.
One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, who’s rare to come by these days.
Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.
In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.
Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.
Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.
You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.
Until it is.
It all starts at The Afterparty.
Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.
She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.
The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.
And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.
The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.
With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.
She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.
“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”
You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.
“Sorry,” you hum passively.
She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.
The step creaks under pure muscle.
Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.
The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.
But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.
It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.
“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.
Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.
“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.
“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.
And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.
“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”
She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.
You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.
“________,” you offer.
She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.
“And you go to school here?” she asks.
You nod once.
“Neuroscience, fourth year.”
“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.
“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”
Vi’s floored.
“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.
“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”
“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”
You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.
“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”
“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.
And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.
Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.
“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.
No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.
The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.
“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.
You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.
“Maybe.”
Vi decides that she needs to see you again.
You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.
“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.
“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”
“So?”
“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”
Her teammate snorts.
“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”
The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.
Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.
From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.
“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”
Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.
“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.
“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.
“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”
And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.
Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.
You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.
“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.
Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.
“Violet,” you acknowledge.
And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.
The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.
“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.
“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”
You don’t even bat an eye.
“I did.”
“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”
“I am.”
“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.
Especially when you look up at her like that.
You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.
“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.
Vi could melt.
“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”
“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.
Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.
“So I can get paid?” you fill in.
“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”
You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.
“You’re fucking joking!”
The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Maddie,” you whisper.
“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.
“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”
“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”
You look around in disbelief.
“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”
“What else would she— are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”
“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”
It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.
“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”
“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Don’t start.”
“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”
You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.
Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.
“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.
If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.
Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.
“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.
“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.
“Maddie,” you warn.
“Love you, see you at home!”
Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.
“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.
“Hi.”
A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.
“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”
Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.
Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.
“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.
Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.
“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.
“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.
It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.
You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.
“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.
“Huh?”
Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.
“Am I going too fast?”
“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”
You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.
Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.
You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.
You decide to fold your cards first.
“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”
No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.
“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”
You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.
“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”
She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.
“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”
And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.
But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you’re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.
You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.
You refresh for good measure.
“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”
You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.
Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.
You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.
A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.
When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.
Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.
“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.
Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.
“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”
And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.
The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.
“Violet.”
Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.
She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.
“V—”
“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”
“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”
Vi’s smile is crooked.
“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”
“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?
You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.
She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.
“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”
Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.
“N-No,” you stammer.
“Great, see you tomorrow?“
You swallow.
“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”
Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.
Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.
“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.
You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.
“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”
And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.
“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.
“Jack shit,” she laughs.
And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.
“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.
“Sure, anything.”
“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”
And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.
Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.
“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.
You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.
“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”
Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.
It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.
“Hungry?” you ask.
“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.
Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.
“Not since breakfast,” you admit.
“You like pizza?”
“Only the good kind,” you challenge.
“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”
Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.
“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.
You shake your head.
“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.
It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.
Vi’s desperate for more.
“As in?”
You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.
“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”
Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.
“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”
And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.
“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”
Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.
“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”
“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”
“God, marry me now.”
She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.
“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.
“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”
Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.
“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”
You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.
“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.
“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.
You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.
“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”
“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”
And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You’re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.
That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?
Like cigarettes?
no, weed, dummy.
Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.
She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.
And then she gets the invite.
Ellie swears it’s her in.
“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.
“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.
“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”
“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.
“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”
“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.
You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.
If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.
“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”
Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.
You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.
“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”
Vi raises a brow.
“My cat,” you clarify.
“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.
But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.
Cute. So fucking cute.
You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.
“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”
You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.
“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”
And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.
“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.
You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.
“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”
“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”
She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.
“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”
You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.
“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.
“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”
It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.
Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.
“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.
“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.
“Vi,” you whimper.
And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.
She resists a smile.
“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”
You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.
“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.
Test the waters, cop a feel.
Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.
She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.
“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.
“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.
Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.
“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”
You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.
“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”
A small little laugh puffs from your lips.
“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.
Vi deflates in relief.
“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”
Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.
Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.
Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.
It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.
It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.
5—4.
The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.
She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.
You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.
They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.
Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.
The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.
“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.
Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.
“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.
Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.
So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.
She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.
“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.
“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.
She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.
“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”
You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.
“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”
She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.
Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.
“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.
When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.
“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.
You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.
She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.
“Maybe,” you whisper finally.
“Maybe what?” Vi teases.
“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.
“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.
It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.
You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.
You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.
“Puck off.”
Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.
“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.
You whine.
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.
“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”
And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.
You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.
“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.
Violet only snorts a laugh.
“Whatever, good game,” she calls.
Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.
“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”
“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.
She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.
“Leave it.”
Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.
The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.
She winks.
You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.
You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.
You should come, I can pick you up.
But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.
Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.
“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.
You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!
“Yeah?”
Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.
“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.
Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.
You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.
You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.
“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.
Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.
“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.
You breath out a little laugh.
“Here I am.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”
Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—
“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”
You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.
“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”
I wanted you to want me.
“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.
She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.
“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”
It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.
You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.
“You okay?” she hums.
Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.
You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.
“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.
When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.
You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.
You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.
Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.
As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.
You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.
“What do you like to do?” she asks you.
All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.
“Uh.”
Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.
But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.
Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.
It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.
You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.
“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”
Ellie laughs benevolently.
“You have a cat?”
“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”
“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”
And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.
“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”
“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”
It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.
She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.
“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”
Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.
She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.
This is getting fucking ridiculous.
The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.
It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.
“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.
She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.
And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.
“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.
“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.
She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.
“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”
Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.
You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.
“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.
A nervous giggle bubbles.
“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.
“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”
You bite.
“If you ask nicely.”
She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.
“Can I?” she husks.
You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.
“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”
The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.
“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”
To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.
Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.
Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.
You’re staring, hard.
Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.
She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.
You relax a fraction.
“Everything okay?”
You smile, something small.
“Yeah, good,” you assure her.
The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.
You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.
“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”
Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.
“Like right now?”
You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.
“Like right now,” you confirm.
She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—
“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”
She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.
“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”
Your heartbeat skips.
“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.
Vi’s grinning wide.
“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”
And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.
It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.
“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”
You think for a moment before shaking your head.
“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”
“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.
“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.
She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”
“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”
“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”
“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.
“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”
Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.
“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.
“I admit it was a little strange, but—”
“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”
And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.
You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.
“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”
And you’re running.
Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.
She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.
sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.
Her expression screws up.
everything ok? can i do anything for you?
sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.
I’ll see you next week.
But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.
She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.
She sighs. Hard.
You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.
It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.
violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3
You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.
Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?
.
.
.
Then you add, We can smoke.
Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.
You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.
Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.
She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.
“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.
It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.
You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.
Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.
“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.
“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.
“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.
Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.
This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.
“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”
“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.
“Like?”
“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”
You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.
“Uh-huh?”
“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”
You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.
Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.
You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.
“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”
You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.
“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”
And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.
Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.
“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”
She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.
“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”
I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—
“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”
Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.
“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”
One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.
“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”
Oh.
Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.
“But?”
The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.
“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.
“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.
“Violet,” you sigh.
“Abuse what?” she husks.
“I know you—”
“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”
“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”
“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”
Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.
“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”
And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.
She clambers back into the driver’s seat.
“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.
“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”
Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.
“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”
“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”
Your breath catches.
“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.
“Why?”
“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”
It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.
“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”
“You really believe that?”
“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”
Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.
“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”
Vi’s brows furrow.
“You’re what?”
“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”
And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.
“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.
You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.
“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”
It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.
“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”
“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”
Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.
“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.
Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.
You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.
sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.
She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.
thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.
“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.
Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.
And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.
It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.
“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.
“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.
“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”
Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.
“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.
Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.
“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”
You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.
violet <3: can i see you this week?
You open Instagram.
sev.94 has requested to follow you! sev.94 has sent you a message request!
Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.
sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this. sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is sev.94 sent a video. sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.
You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.
You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.
The bracelet.
Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.
(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.
She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.
“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.
“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.
Ellie’s face scrunches.
“Huh?”
“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”
Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.
“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”
Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.
It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.
This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.
You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.
And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.
You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.
xxxx: i really miss you.
You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.
You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.
“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”
You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.
“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.
“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.
“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”
“Fuck you,” you whisper.
“What?”
“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”
Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.
“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”
You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.
“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”
Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.
The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.
You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.
The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.
Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.
“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.
“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”
You humph.
“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”
“And that’s my problem because...?”
“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”
“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”
“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”
You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.
“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”
Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.
“Violet’s in love with you.”
And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.
“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.
Ellie’s brows shoot up.
“Whoa, what?”
“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.
“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she’s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”
“There’s a video.”
Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.
Her reaches a palm out.
Show me.
You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.
She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.
“She’s fucking dead.”
When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.
It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.
Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.
She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.
“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”
The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.
Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.
It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.
And there, front and center of the student section is you.
Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.
At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.
“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”
Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.
“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.
And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.
7—5.
The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.
She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.
Her bracelet.
You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.
The crowd cheers.
Fight, fight fight!
You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.
Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.
Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.
“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.
“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.
Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”
Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.
She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.
“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.
“Hi,” you squeak.
A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.
“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.
And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.
“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”
You swallow.
“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”
“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”
You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.
“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.
“I know.”
She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.
“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”
Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.
“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”
“I don’t,” you admit.
Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.
“We could start off with the obvious.”
One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.
“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”
You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.
“Vi.”
“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.
She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.
“Pl—ease.”
“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”
“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”
Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.
The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.
Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.
“Maddie home?” she breathes.
“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”
“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”
“Oh–”
One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.
You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.
Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.
“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.
Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.
“Fuck.”
“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.
And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.
“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”
“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”
You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.
“Vi.”
Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.
“F...F—uck,” you sigh.
“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”
You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.
And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.
She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.
“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”
She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.
You cry out when her fingers slip out.
She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.
You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.
She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.
You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.
“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”
Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.
“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.
“Nnngh, fuck!”
“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”
“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”
She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.
“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.
And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.
Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”
You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”
“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”
She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.
The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.
It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.
Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.
“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”
She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.
You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.
You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.
“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.
“I know, I know.”
You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.
“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”
The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.
You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.
You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.
Everything except Vi.
Oh, you think to yourself.
Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.
But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.
The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.
You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.
You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.
“Babe?”
Your gaze snaps up.
Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.
She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.
“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”
You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.
“Thought you left,” you croak.
Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.
“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”
You whine.
“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”
Violet groans.
“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.
“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.
“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.
Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.
She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.
Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.
One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.
And frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.
neng © 2024
Vi from arcane vs.......
PEANUT HEAD AND SIMON👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏💯💯💯💯💯💯💯
Vi & Jinx x reader
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
SUMMARY: no weird incest shit, just them fucking you
CW: fem!reader, crazy reader (i guess?..), smut, threesome, dirty, face sitting, tribbing, tit sucking, biting, marking, tears, blood, gunplay, knife play, choking, degradation(?), squirting, that's all I think
(HEAR ME OUT AND DON'T KILL ME PLEASE, by the way, English isn't my first language, sorry for any mistakes 💌)
men and minors dni.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
Jinx’s raspy manic giggle sounds right above your ear as her gun moves torturously slow inside you. Her hair tickles your bare shoulder, her nails slightly scratch your waist and you can't help but be overwhelmed feeling every cold metallic edge of her gun as she pulls Vi’s head closer to your chest with her free hand. Vi’s tongue swirls around your hard nipple, her irritated growl sending pleasant waves down your spine.
“Don't get carried away, Jinx,” she mutters, continuing to devour your boobs with the passion of a starved animal. You moan as her teeth sink into your flesh, but you're too dazed to realize how hard the bite was, too focused on the tugging feeling in the pit of your stomach, right where Jinx's gun is thrusting. The thrill, the danger were turning you on more than anything. Even the dull ache between your legs seems torturously sweet now as you're dripping all over the damn gun ready to cum in any second.
"Not yet," Jinx purrs, slowing her movements inside you. Her hot tongue runs over your temple, wiping away drops of cold sweat.
“Come on, dont torture her” Vi chickles, her hand slides down your body to reach your aching clit, rubbing it lightly just to bring you to the desired orgasm. Jinx pouts, but immediately forgets about it, seeing how your cunt greedily swallows her gun as you arch your back, feeling strong waves of pleasure that almost make you faint. The sound of the gun's safety release startles you out of your daze.
“Relax” Jinx laughs slowly pulling a soaked gun out of your convulsing walls.
The smell of sex fills your nostrils, and you have absolutely no strength to think straight. You let Vi place you down on the cold wooden floor. All you can do is whine desperately as she throws your leg on her shoulder and starts rubbing her wet folds against your throbbing clit, overstimulating you beyond limits. Your moans swiftly interrupted by Jinx’s pussy shamelessly squirming on your face. You pounce on her, feeling her sweet and salty juices on your tongue.She giggles loudly with pleasure, and you can only imagine her biting her lower lip deliciously in an attempt to be quieter.
Your mind goes completely blank as you feel Vi cumming on your sensitive pussy, letting out a quiet whine and making Jinx giggle mockingly. Then Vi’s strong hand suddenly slightly squeezes your throat, making you choke on your own saliva and Jinx’s wetness running down your throat. Vi’s mouth appears on your collarbone biting you hard enough to leave a mark and make you bleed. You feel a tiny hot trickle running down between your tits and she licks it off with a satisfied hum.
Vi leans down once more to eat your abused cunt out and you feel Jinx bending over your lower abdomen, holding something in her hand.
“I think my sis is thirsty, you know?” she murmured through moans which you licked out of her. Then you feel sharp pain in your lower stomach right above your pubis, as she starts scratching your flesh with a knife, drawing something. This, combined with Vi’s lips sucking on your clit, drives you completely crazy with fear and excitement. You desperately arch your back trying to escape pain and tortuous stimulation. Blood runs down between your legs and Vi gladly laps on it, eating you out with even more passion now.
Tears start to well up in your eyes as her fingers wrapped around your throat again. Jinx presses the knife into your skin harder making you choke and whimper. She feels your tears on her thighs and feels how you squirm in agony under her. Vi roughly bites your clit, and your plaintive cry finally makes Jinx cum. She needily rides your face and you feel her squirt on your tongue. You're so drunk and dumb with arousal that you drink every last drop.
Your mind is hazy with overwhelming pain and pleasure when Vi brings you to another painful orgasm. Then she bites on your lower abdomen as if adding the final word to the inscription “Jinx was here” carved there.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
P.S. Guys, stop texting that it's incest, because it's not. Like, they literally don't have any sexual interactions with each other here, hello???
P.S.S. Okay, it's useless, text whatever you want 💌
Sevika x vi x oc
(Smutt)
Her hand brushed against the hilt of her sword, a reassuring presence at her side. She had been tracking the bounty for weeks, and she wasn't about to let her prize slip away now. The tension in the room was palpable, a silent pattern of unspoken threats and hidden intentions. Her eyes narrowed as they fell upon a figure in the corner, hood drawn low, a mug of ale in their grip. It was Vi, her rival in more ways than one. They had crossed paths before, but never under such personal circumstances.
The reader sat at the bar, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension that had just entered the tavern. Sevika took a deep breath, savoring the scent of roasting meat and the faint smell of rain that clung to the reader's clothes. She had never felt such a strong attraction to a mark before, and it was unsettling. Vi looked up, their gaze meeting hers across the crowded room. A smirk played at the corner of their mouth, and Sevika knew she had been caught. But she didn't care. The reader was here, and she wasn't leaving without them.
Vi pushed back their hood, revealing a mess of dark hair and piercing eyes that seemed to see right through her. They raised their mug in a silent toast before downing the last of their drink and standing up with a fluid grace that seemed to belie their heavy armor. The air thickened as they approached the bar, their steps echoing through the tavern. The reader turned to look, and for a moment, their eyes met Sevika's. A spark of curiosity, perhaps a hint of attraction, flickered in those depths. Sevika's heart raced.
"Sevika," Vi drawled, their voice low and filled with amusement. "I didn't expect to find you here, chasing the same tail as me."
Sevika's jaw clenched, but she didn't break eye contact with the reader. "This isn't about the bounty," she said through gritted teeth.
Vi chuckled, leaning against the bar. "Oh, I know what this is about," they said, their eyes glinting with mischief. "It's about the one who gets to take the pretty little thing home first."
Sevika felt a flash of anger, but she kept her cool. "The reader is not a prize to be won," she said firmly.
Vi raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" They leaned closer, their voice dropping to a whisper. "Then what is it you want from them?"
Sevika's eyes narrowed, but she didn't take the bait. "That's none of your concern
."
Vi's smirk grew wider. "Isn't it? After all, I did find them first."
The reader, feeling the tension between the two, turned to face them fully, curiosity turning to wariness. "What's going on here?"
Sevika stepped forward, her hand still resting on her sword. "This doesn't concern you," she said, her voice firm.
Vi, however, didn't back down. They sauntered closer, their gaze locked on the reader. "Oh, but it does," they said, their eyes glinting with challenge. "You see, we've both got our sights set on you."
The reader's eyes widened, and their heart began to pound in their chest. They hadn't anticipated being the object of a rivalry between two such formidable figures. "Why?" they managed to ask, their voice quivering slightly.
Sevika stepped in front of Vi, placing herself protectively between them and the reader. "Because you're special," she said, her voice softer now. "And I won't let anyone hurt you."
Vi rolled their eyes. "Spare me the heroics," they said. "You want them just as much as I do."
The reader looked from one to the other, their mind racing. "What do you want from me?"
Sevika's grip tightened on the hilt of her sword. "To keep you safe," she said, her eyes never leaving Vi's.
Vi leaned in, their breath warm against the reader's ear. "To make you mine," they murmured, their voice a seductive whisper.
The reader felt a shiver run down their spine, the weight of their decision heavy in the air. They had never been in a situation like this before, and they weren't sure how to navigate the tension that crackled like lightning between Sevika and Vi. They held Vi's gaze, the mercenary's dark eyes searching their own, looking for something, anything to give them an advantage in this strange standoff
.
Taking a deep breath, the reader spoke up, their voice surprisingly steady. "Alright, I'll make you a deal," they began, the words tumbling from their lips before they could think better of it. "Both of you are...attractive, in your own ways." They swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat rising to their cheeks. "I'll spend the night with you both, as a group."
Sevika's eyes widened in shock, her hand reflexively tightening on her sword. "What?" she hissed, glaring at Vi.
Vi's smirk grew even more wicked. "Ah, so the little mouse does have some claws," they said, their gaze never leaving the reader. "I accept your offer, but only if we all play by the same rules."
The reader nodded, feeling a strange thrill at the prospect of the evening ahead. They had never been one to shy away from a challenge, and this was certainly one they hadn't seen coming. "Deal," they said, holding out their hand to shake.
Sevika stared at the outstretched hand, her mind racing. Group? With Vi? The idea was ludicrous, but the alternative was to lose the reader to her rival. With a growl of frustration, she took the reader's hand in a firm grip. "Fine," she said through clenched teeth, "but if you think you can handle this, you're in for a surprise."
Vi's eyes gleamed with triumph, and they took the reader's other hand. "Agreed," they said, their grip surprisingly gentle. "But remember, no holding back."
Sevika felt a knot form in her stomach as she watched the exchange, but she couldn't deny the heat that was building inside her. She had never been one to share, but the thought of the reader in their arms, with Vi's touch added to the mix, was strangely...arousing.
.
Time skip to the reader's home, where the air is thick with the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke from the crackling fireplace. Vi, now shirtless, was already halfway out of their armor, revealing a chiseled torso adorned with a smattering of scars that whispered tales of battles long past. They moved with an ease that was almost predatory, their eyes never leaving the reader's as they undid their laces with practiced hands.
Sevika, on the other hand, was much slower in her movements. Each piece of gear was removed with a deliberate precision, as if she were disarming herself not just physically, but mentally preparing for the uncharted territory of sharing the reader with Vi. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from the warmth of the room or the unspoken challenge in Vi's gaze, it was hard to tell.
Finally, she stood before them in just her leather pants and a loose shirt that hugged her curves in all the right places. With a huff, she grabbed the reader's hand and pulled them into a deep, passionate kiss. It was a move that was part possessive, part defiant, and Vi felt a spark of something unexpected in their chest. Jealousy? Desire? They couldn't quite place it, but it certainly wasn't anger.
The reader's hands found their way around Sevika's waist, pulling her closer. Sevika felt their body respond in kind, and she reveled in the feeling of being wanted, being desired. When she pulled back, her eyes locked onto Vi's, watching for any sign of defeat. But what she saw only fueled the fire inside her more
.
Vi's gaze was intense, their eyes dark with a blend of surprise and something else - something that looked suspiciously like a challenge. They stepped closer, their hand reaching up to trace the line of the reader's jaw. "Is that all you've got?" they murmured, their voice a seductive purr.
Sevika's eyes narrowed, and she took the bait. Her hands found the reader's face, guiding them into another kiss, this one more urgent, more demanding. Her tongue danced with theirs, exploring and claiming, as if trying to leave an indelible mark. She felt the reader's body melt into hers, their response unmistakable. It was intoxicating, and she reveled in the power she had over them.
But she didn't miss the flicker of something in Vi's eyes. Was it irritation? Desire? Whatever it was, it spurred her on, and she deepened the kiss further, her hands roaming down to the reader's hips. She could feel the heat radiating from Vi's body, almost as if they were a part of this intimate embrace. The tension in the room had shifted, the air now charged with a different kind of energy.
Vi's hand slid down the reader's back, resting possessively on their hip, their thumb brushing against the fabric of Sevika's shirt. It was a silent declaration of their own claim, a reminder that they weren't going to be outdone. Sevika's breath hitched, the heat from Vi's touch sending a shockwave through her body. She hadn't planned on this, hadn't anticipated the way her body would respond to the mercenary's touch.
"You know," Vi began, their voice a velvet purr, "you could do much better than this overeager pup." They leaned in closer, whispering sweet nothings into the reader's ear, their breath hot against their neck. "I could give you the world," they murmured, their hand sliding around to caress the reader's stomach, eliciting a gasp.
Sevika watched the display with a mix of annoyance and arousal. Vi's touch was deft and confident, leaving no doubt about their intentions. But she couldn't let them have all the fun, not when she had her own plans. She stepped closer, her own hand tracing the reader's waist, her thumb grazing the sensitive skin just above their hipbone. The reader's eyes fluttered closed, lost in the sensations.
"Is that all you've got, Vi?" Sevika's voice was filled with mock concern. "Such sweet talk and gentle caresses? Perhaps you've gone soft."
Vi's smirk grew, their hand never leaving the reader's body. "I'm just getting started," they murmured, their eyes flicking up to meet Sevika's. "But I see you're eager to show off your...skills."
With a growl of challenge, Sevika reached down and shoved her hand into the reader's pants. The reader gasped at the sudden intrusion, their body stiffening before relaxing into the new sensation. Sevika felt a thrill at the contact, her own desire spiking. She had never been one to hold back, and she wasn't about to start now, not with Vi watching, not with the reader's eyes wide and dark with desire.
Her hand moved with confidence, seeking out the reader's most sensitive spots. She felt them quiver under her touch, their breath hitching in their throat. The heat of their skin was a stark contrast to the cool fabric of their clothes, and she reveled in the knowledge that she was the one causing this reaction. Vi's eyes followed her hand, their own breathing becoming more ragged as they watched the intimate scene unfold before them.
Sevika knew she had the upper hand now. With a wicked smile, she yanked the reader away from Vi and pushed them down onto the bed, face first. The reader's gasp was muffled by the pillows, and Sevika felt a surge of power as she took control. Her hand hovered over the reader's upturned bottom, the anticipation of the coming impact making her palm tingle. She had never been one for games, but this...this was something she could get used to.
With a swift motion, she brought her hand down, the sound of the slap echoing through the quiet room. The reader's body jerked, and Sevika felt a thrill of excitement run through her. She had never been the type to indulge in such intimate power plays, but the way the reader's body responded to her touch was intoxicating. She did it again, and again, each smack a little harder than the last. The reader's moans grew louder, the sound music to her ears.
Vi's eyes had widened at the sudden shift in dynamics, but they didn't miss a beat. They stepped closer, their hand reaching out to caress the reader's cheek, turning their face towards them. "Is she bullying you?" they asked, their voice a low, soothing rumble.
The reader looked up, their eyes glazed with passion and confusion. "No," they murmured, their voice barely above a whisper.
Vi didn't miss a beat, leaning down to claim their lips in a gentle, yet possessive kiss. They lifted the reader's upper body off the bed, cradling them against their chest. Sevika, caught off guard, had to tighten her grip on the reader's ass to keep them from falling back down. The reader's legs dangled in the air, their toes brushing the bed in an awkward, yet strangely erotic dance of submission.
With Vi's arms around the reader's waist, the reader's face was buried in their neck, their moans muffled by the mercenary's skin. Vi's hands began to wander, their fingers tracing patterns on the reader's back, as they whispered sweet nothings in their ear. "Shh," they cooed, "don't let her hurt you like that."
Sevika's eyes narrowed, but she didn't stop her ministrations. Instead, she smacked the reader's ass even harder, feeling a perverse pleasure at the way their body jerked in Vi's embrace. The reader's moans grew louder, their hips bucking slightly, and Sevika knew she had them right where she wanted them.
But Vi wasn't done playing games. Their hand slid up the reader's back, tangling in their hair. With surprising gentleness, they turned the reader's face back towards Sevika, their thumb tracing the line of their jaw. "Look at her," they whispered, their voice a seductive purr. "Look at the way she wants you."
The reader's eyes snapped open, meeting Sevika's fiery gaze. They whined, their cheeks flushed, feeling the weight of Vi's body pressing against them. Vi's touch was a stark contrast to the stinging pain from Sevika's hand, and they couldn't decide which they liked more. The conflict between the two sensations was driving them wild, their body thrumming with need.
Vi chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent another shiver down the reader's spine. They reached out and gently scratched the reader's head, their nails digging into the soft hair in a way that was both soothing and possessive. "Don't worry, love," they murmured, their breath hot against the reader's ear. "We're going to make this night unforgettable."
The reader's whines grew louder as Sevika's hand continued to rain down on their ass, each smack sending waves of pleasure and pain through their body. They couldn't help but push back into Vi's touch, their face buried in the crook of the mercenary's neck as they moaned and writhed. Vi's hand slid up, their fingers tracing the line of the reader's jaw before ghosting over their cheek to rest on the side of their neck. The gentle touch was a stark contrast to the firm grip they had on the reader's waist, and it was driving them crazy.
"Look at her," Vi murmured, their breath tickling the reader's ear. "Look at the way she's losing control."
The reader's eyes fluttered open, meeting Sevika's fiery gaze. Her hand was poised in the air, ready to deliver another smack, but she paused, watching as Vi's fingers danced through their hair, the mercenary's eyes hooded with desire. The reader's own breath was coming in ragged gasps, their face flushed and their body trembling with need. They felt so exposed, so vulnerable, but the safety net of Vi's arms around them only made the sensation more exhilarating.
Vi's hand moved from their hair to the back of the reader's neck, their thumb tracing the tender skin beneath their ear. "You're so beautiful when you're lost in pleasure," they murmured, their voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through the reader's very bones.
The reader's whines grew louder, their hips bucking against the mattress as they sought relief from the delicious torment Sevika was inflicting. They could feel the mercenary's erection pressing into their side, and it only served to drive them wilder. Vi's grip tightened, their nails digging in just enough to sting. It was a silent reminder of who was in control here, who was calling the shots in this deliciously twisted dance of desire.
Sevika watched the display, her own breathing growing more ragged. Jealousy, raw and unbridled, coursed through her veins. She hadn't anticipated this level of intimacy with Vi, hadn't expected to feel such a visceral reaction to their touch on the reader's body. With a snarl, she yanked the reader's hair, pulling their face to hers. "You want to play games, Vi?" she growled, her eyes flashing with challenge. "Let's see how much you really want them."
The reader's eyes widened, their body taut as they were pulled into a fiery kiss. Sevika's teeth grazed their lower lip, a silent declaration of dominance. Her other hand moved to the reader's throat, her thumb resting gently against their pulse point. "Mine," she murmured, the word a possessive promise that sent a shiver through the reader's body.
Vi's eyes flashed, but instead of retreating, they leaned in closer, their body pressing against the reader's from behind. "Is that so?" they whispered against the reader's neck, their breath hot and teasing. "Then let's see if you can keep up with us both."
The reader felt a thrill of fear and excitement run through them, their body responding to the dual threat and promise of both Sevika and Vi. They squirmed in Vi's arms, their hips grinding against the mercenary's thigh. Sevika's hand tightened in their hair, her grip almost painful as she deepened the kiss, her tongue plundering their mouth. The reader's hands reached up to cling to Sevika's shoulders, their nails digging in as they moaned into the kiss.
Sevika's eyes were like storm clouds, her gaze never leaving the reader's as she whispered harshly, "You think you can handle us both?" The challenge in her voice was clear, the jealousy burning hot. "You think you can take everything we're going to give you?"
The reader's heart raced, the heady mix of fear and excitement making their knees feel weak. They nodded, not trusting their voice to speak, and buried their face in Sevika's shoulder, feeling the tension coiling in her muscles. It was a strange form of rebellion, a silent declaration that they weren't just a pawn in their game. The scent of leather and sweat mingled with Sevika's natural aroma, intoxicating them in a way they hadn't expected. They reached a trembling hand back to find Vi's, their fingers curling around the mercenary's strong, calloused ones.
Vi's eyes widened in surprise at the gesture, but they didn't pull away. Instead, they squeezed the reader's hand, a silent message of understanding passing between them. They could feel the reader's pulse hammering against their palm, a rhythm that matched their own racing heart. "Looks like we've got ourselves a fighter," they murmured, their voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air.
Sevika's grip on the reader's hair loosened slightly, but she didn't release them entirely. Her eyes searched the reader's face, looking for any sign of fear or hesitation. But all she saw was a fiery determination that mirrored her own. "Is that right?" she murmured, her voice a seductive purr. "You want to take us both
on?"
The reader nodded, their breath coming in shallow gasps. They hadn't anticipated the intensity of the situation, but they were too far gone to back out now. They reached their hand back, blindly seeking Vi's, and when their fingers brushed against the mercenary's palm, it was like a bolt of lightning had struck them.
✨✨✨✨VI X READER✨✨✨✨
Vi's eyes searched the shadows, her heart racing. The air had tension, and she could feel the weight of their unspoken words pressing against her chest. She leaned heavily against the cold, unyielding wall, her breaths shallow and uneven.
"What are you doing, Cait?" she choked out, her voice trembling.
But Caitlyn didn't answer. She just turned and started to walk away, her boots clanging on the metal grating, leaving Vi alone in the dimly lit shaft. Vi stared after her, the echo of her footsteps fading into the distance.
Before Vi could fully process what had just happened, she felt a sharp pain in her cheek. Caitlyn had turned back and hit her with the butt of her gun, the force sending her stumbling sideways.
"This is for your own good," Caitlyn said, her voice cold as ice.
But Vi couldn't take it anymore. With a surge of adrenaline, she grabbed Caitlyn's hand, her fingers wrapping around the leather-wrapped grip of the gun. She could feel Caitlyn's pulse, racing as fast as her own. "What good is this, Cait?" she yelled, her eyes brimming with tears.
With a force that seemed to come from somewhere deep within her, she shoved Vi away, sending her stumbling back into the shadows. Vi's hand flew to her face, feeling the hot sting of the impact, her mind racing to understand what was happening.
"Cait!" she screamed, her voice raw with pain and desperation. But Caitlyn was already gone, her figure disappearing into the darkness. The only evidence of her presence was the echo of her footsteps and the painful throb in Vi's cheek. Vi slid to the ground, her legs giving out from under her, and sobbed.
The reader, who had been frantically searching for Vi since the explosion blocked their path, finally heard the faint echoes of her voice. They navigated through the debris-filled shaft, dodging twisted metal and shattered pipes, their heart racing with every step. "Vi!" they called out, their voice echoing off the cold metal walls.
As they grew closer, the cries grew clearer, turning from a distant shout to a desperate sob. The reader's chest tightened with each sound, a knot of anxiety forming in their stomach. They rounded a corner and there she was, Vi, crumpled on the ground, her eyes vacant and her cheek reddened. She didn't respond to the reader's call; she seemed lost in a world of her own, consumed by pain.
But then, she heard the reader's footsteps, and suddenly, she was alive again. Vi jumped up with a start, her eyes widening with hope. She threw herself at the reader, her arms wrapping around them like a vine, clinging for dear life. Her body trembled against them, and the reader could feel her hot breath on their neck as she sobbed into their shoulder. "Don't leave me," she whispered, her voice hoarse and desperate.
The reader stumbled back from the sudden force, but quickly regained their balance, holding Vi tightly in their arms. They stroked her hair and whispered soothing words into her ear, trying to calm her shaking form. "It's okay," they murmured, "I'm here
."
Vi pulled back, her eyes searching the reader's face, looking for any sign of doubt or rejection. She took a deep, shaky breath and spoke, her voice cracking. "You don't know what she said to me," she began, her eyes pleading. "You don't know what she did."
The reader looked at her with concern, their hand still on her shoulder. "What happened?" they asked gently.
Vi's voice broke as she spoke, her words tumbling out in a rush. "C-Cait...she said I'm useless, that I'm just a liability. That... that she's tired of me messing everything up." She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. "It's true, isn't it?" she whispered, her voice thick with self-loathing. "I always mess things up."
The reader felt their heart drop at Vi's words. They pulled her into a tighter embrace, their own emotions swirling like a storm. "No," they said firmly, "you're not useless, Vi. You're not."
Vi's grip on them was like a vice, her body trembling against their own. The reader could feel the pain and fear radiating off her in waves, almost as if it were a tangible force trying to break through their own barriers. They held her closer still, trying to absorb some of that pain, to be the anchor she so desperately needed in this moment.
But as the reader made a move to sit up, intending to help Vi to her feet and get them out of this cold, desolate place, she panicked. Her eyes shot open and her hands clutched at their shirt, her nails digging in. "Don't go," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please don't leave me."
The reader's heart wrenched at the sight of her like this, so vulnerable and broken. They felt a rush of anger towards Caitlyn for causing such pain, but also a stab of guilt for not being there to stop it. They had known the tension was building between them, but they had never expected it to come to this. They should have seen the signs, done something to prevent it. Now, all they could do was be here for Vi.
They cradled her face in their hands, gently, and tilted it up so that their eyes met hers. "Look at me," they said, their voice firm but gentle. Vi's eyes searched theirs, looking for the truth in their words. "You're not useless, Vi. You're not a liability." Each word was spoken with conviction, a promise they intended to keep. "You're strong and brave, and you're important to me. To all of us." They paused, taking in her tear-stained face, the bruise already forming on her cheek, and the desperation in her eyes. "But right now, we need to get out of here."
Vi nodded, her sobs subsiding into sniffles. She was still shaking, but she managed to get to her feet, leaning heavily against the reader. They looked around the shaft, assessing the situation. The way they came was blocked by rubble, but ahead, there was a ladder leading upwards to a hatch, a glimmer of hope in the otherwise grim setting. "Can you climb?" the reader asked, their eyes never leaving hers.
Vi took a deep breath and nodded again. The reader could see the determination setting in her eyes, a spark of the fiery spirit they knew so well. "Good," they said, taking a step back and swinging Vi onto their back in a swift motion. She gasped in surprise but quickly wrapped her arms around their neck, her legs around their waist. "Hold on tight," they instructed, before starting the climb up the ladder.
With each rung they ascended, Vi's weight grew heavier, and the reader felt the ache in their arms and back. But they didn't stop, driven by the need to get her out of this place. Vi's grip tightened around their neck, her breathing shallow and quick against their ear. The reader could feel her trembling, whether from fear or pain, they weren't sure.
When they finally reached the top, the reader gratefully set her down beside the hatch. Vi's eyes were closed, and she looked so small and fragile in the harsh light that pierced through the opening above. The reader took a moment to catch their breath, their muscles protesting, but the concern for Vi pushed them to ignore the discomfort.
They turned to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You should rest," they suggested, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. "We're safe for now, and I'll keep an eye out."
Vi nodded, her eyes dropping to the floor. She leaned against the wall, sliding down until she was sitting with her legs outstretched. She took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes fluttering shut. The reader watched as she grew stiller by the second, her breaths evening out until they were barely a whisper. Concerned, they knelt beside her, their hand hovering over her shoulder. "Vi?" they asked softly, but she didn't respond.
They felt for her pulse, the steady beat reassuring them that she was okay. It was only then that the reader realized Vi had passed out from the pain and shock. Gently, they scooped her into their arms, her body light but limp. The reader felt a mix of anger and fear surge through them—how could Caitlyn do this to her? They knew the two had their differences, but this was beyond the pale.
With a newfound sense of urgency, they made their way out of the shaft, carrying Vi like a precious burden. The trek to her apartment was a blur, each step fueled by the need to get her to safety and comfort. The streets were eerily quiet, the usual sounds of the city muffled by the weight of the recent events. The reader's mind raced with questions, but all they could focus on was the warmth of Vi's body against theirs and the steady rhythm of her breathing.
Once inside, the reader laid Vi gently on her bed, taking care to remove her boots and jacket. They pulled the covers over her, tucking her in as if she were a child, and sat beside her, watching her chest rise and fall. The sight was calming, a stark contrast to the chaos of the world outside. They reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, their touch feather-light, and felt a shiver run through her. Vi stirred, her eyes fluttering open to reveal a dull haze of pain.
"You're safe," the reader assured her, their voice low and soothing. "You're at my place “You're going to be okay."
Vi's eyes searched the unfamiliar surroundings, confusion clouding her features. Her cheek throbbed, a dull reminder of Caitlyn's harsh words and the cold steel of the gun. "What happened?" she asked weakly, her voice a mere whisper.
The reader took a deep breath, trying to keep their own emotions in check. "You passed out," they explained gently. "You're safe now. We're at my apartment."
Vi's eyes searched their face, looking for any trace of deceit, but found only genuine concern. She nodded slightly, too drained to speak. The reader stood up, their muscles protesting after carrying her for so long. They went to the kitchen and filled a glass with water, returning to the bedside to help her sit up. "Here," they said, offering the glass. "Drink this."
Vi took it with trembling hands, her mouth parched. She sipped the water, the cool liquid soothing her dry throat. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
But as she took in her surroundings, reality crashed back down on her. She flinched at the memory of her breakdown, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She had never let anyone see her so vulnerable, not even Caitlyn. She didn't know how to process the reader being there, witnessing her at her lowest point.
Vi pushed herself up onto her elbows, the pain in her cheek flaring up again. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself, her eyes flicking towards the reader. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice tight. "I didn't mean to... to do that. It's just been a lot."
The reader sat on the edge of the bed, their hand resting on Vi's back in a comforting gesture. They offered a small, understanding smile. "You don't have to apologize," they said gently. "You've been through hell tonight."
Vi looked away, her gaze drifting to the floor. She didn't want pity, she wanted Caitlyn. But Caitlyn didnt want her , and she was left with this gaping hole in her chest that seemed to be swallowing her whole.she then decided she needed to feel the hole , She took another sip of water, trying to gather her thoughts. "I just... I've never been good at this," she admitted, her voice still barely above a whisper. "The whole... feeling stuff. I thought I had it under control, but... " Her words trailed off as she swallowed hard, blinking back the threatening tears.
The reader studied her, their eyes filled with understanding. They reached out and took Vi's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You don't have to be," they said. "Not all the time, anyway."
But before they could say more, Vi's expression shifted. Her eyes grew intense, and she leaned forward, pulling the reader into a sudden, desperate kiss. The reader was taken aback, but didn't pull away. They felt Vi's pain, her confusion, and her desperation in that single touch. Her lips were soft and warm, her kiss frantic as if trying to convey everything she couldn't put into words.
The moment was jolted to a halt as Vi's cheek made contact with the exact spot Cait had hit her earlier. She winced, breaking away with a gasp, her hand flying to cover her face. The reader's eyes went wide with horror as they realized what they'd done, their hand shooting up to cover their mouth. "Oh my God," they murmured, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."
Vi's eyes searched their face, looking for any hint of judgment or revulsion. But all she saw was the same concern that had been there since the reader found her. She took a shaky breath and tried to smile, though it came out more like a grimace. "It's okay," she said, her voice tight with pain. "I just... I guess I'm not used to being so... weak."
The reader took her hand away from their mouth, their own eyes filled with regret. "You're not weak," they protested. "You're just hurt, Vi."
But Vi was insistent, leaning in again, her eyes searching the reader's. She needed to feel something other than the cold emptiness that Caitlyn had left behind. But before their lips could meet again, the reader pulled back, their gaze soft but firm. "Vi," they said gently, "you're hurt, and I don't want to make things worse."
Vi's shoulders slumped, and she nodded, understanding in her eyes. But she couldn't help the feeling of disappointment that washed over her. She had hoped, just for a moment, that this could be something more, a bandage over the gaping wound in her heart. "Yeah," she murmured, "you're right."
The reader took a deep breath, gathering their thoughts. "Vi, I need to tell you something." They paused, their heart racing. "I've had feelings for you for a while now." They watched as Vi's eyes grew wide, surprise flickering across her features. "I know it's not the right time, but I couldn't just sit here and not say anything after what happened."
Vi's gaze fell to their joined hands, the warmth of their skin a stark contrast to the chill in the air. She felt a strange mix of emotions—shock, confusion, and a flicker of something she didn't quite recognize. "I... I didn't know," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
The reader squeezed her hand gently, trying to find the right words. "It's complicated," they admitted. "But when I saw you with Caitlyn, I just... I knew I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. I don't expect you to feel the same way, especially after... everything. But I just want you to know that I'll be here for you, no matter what happens."
Vi's eyes searched theirs, a storm of emotions playing out across her features. Then, she leaned forward, her arms wrapping around the reader's neck in a tight embrace. She buried her face in their shoulder, and for the first time since that fateful kiss in the shaft, she allowed herself to feel something other than pain. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice muffled by the fabric of their shirt. "Thank you for being here."
The reader's arms wrapped around her, holding her close, feeling her warmth seep into them. They stroked her back in a comforting rhythm, not knowing what to say. They hadn't expected this, but it felt right, almost like fate had led them here. "You're welcome," they murmured back, their voice filled with genuine care.
They gently pushed her back, just enough to look into her eyes. They saw the turmoil there, the doubt and fear, but also a flicker of something else—desire? The reader leaned in, their breath warm against her skin, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Vi's eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping her lips. It was a gentle gesture, one meant to soothe, but it had an unexpected effect on her. Her body tensed, and she leaned into the touch, craving more.
Encouraged, the reader began to kiss down her neck, feeling the tension in her muscles ease with every press of their lips. Their hands found their way to her scalp, fingers threading through her short hair, and she moaned softly. It had been so long since she'd been touched with such tenderness, and it was like a balm to her bruised soul. The reader's touch grew bolder, their kisses turning from comforting to hungry, their hands massaging her head in a way that sent shivers down her spine.
Vi's eyes remained closed, her breathing shallow and erratic. "Nobody's ever... ever touched me like this," she managed to say, her voice thick with emotion. She could feel the reader's heart beating against her chest, their breath warm and steady in her ear.
The reader pulled away, looking into Vi's eyes, a fierce determination etched into their own. "Then let me worship you, Vi," they whispered, the words leaving no room for doubt. "Let me show you how much you mean to me."
Vi's eyes searched theirs, looking for any hint of insincerity, but she found only earnestness and passion. Her hand came up to cup the reader's cheek, the touch gentle and trembling. "Okay," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "But just... don't hurt me."
The reader nodded, their own eyes filled with a solemn promise. They leaned in again, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was at once fierce and tender. It was as if they were trying to convey every emotion they had ever felt for her, every unspoken word that had remained trapped in their heart. Vi's arms wound around their neck, pulling them closer, as if trying to meld their bodies into one.
With a gentle ease, the reader shifted their position, laying back on the bed and guiding Vi to straddle their thighs. The move was fluid, a dance of understanding and need that seemed to transcend the boundaries of words. Vi's legs trembled slightly as she settled into the new position, her eyes never leaving the reader's
.
The reader's hands moved to Vi's hips, guiding her in a slow, rhythmic grind that had her gasping. Each movement was a silent promise, a vow of comfort and passion that seemed to resonate through her very bones. Their kisses grew more urgent, moving from her mouth to her neck, where they kissed and nibbled gently, sending waves of pleasure through her body.
With trembling hands, the reader reached up and began to unbutton Vi's shirt, one button at a time. The fabric parted to reveal her bare skin, each inch exposed a testament to the trust she was placing in them. Vi's breath hitched as the reader's mouth followed the trail of buttons, kissing and licking the softness of her collarbone, their touch feather-light.
When the shirt was fully open, the reader paused, their eyes drinking in the sight of her. Her breasts were bound tightly, a stark reminder of the armor she wore both physically and emotionally. They hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, but Vi's whine of need was all the encouragement they needed. They leaned in and kissed the top of one breast, feeling her shiver beneath them.
Vi's hands gripped the reader's shoulders, her nails digging in as she arched her back, silently begging for more. The reader took the cue, their mouth moving to the other side to give it equal attention. Vi's breath hitched, her whimpers growing louder as the reader's kisses grew more insistent. They traced the edge of the binding with their tongue, teasing the sensitive skin beneath.
With trembling hands, the reader reached behind her, unhooking the bindings one by one. Vi's breath was hot against their neck, her gasps turning into moans as her breasts were finally released from their confinement. The reader's mouth found her nipple, suckling gently, eliciting a deep, throaty sound of pleasure from Vi. Her hips rocked against them, the friction building between them.
But as the pleasure grew, so did Vi's embarrassment. She had never been one to crave intimacy, to seek out the gentle touches and whispers of affection. She had always been the one to push people away, to hide behind her tough exterior. Yet here she was, straddling the reader, her bare chest exposed, begging for their touch. Her cheeks flushed red, and she felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over her.
The reader must have noticed the change in her demeanor because they paused, their eyes searching hers. "What's wrong?" they asked, their voice low and filled with concern.
Vi looked away, her cheeks burning. "It's just..." she began, her voice trailing off. "I've never been... good at this." She felt vulnerable, exposed in a way she hadn't been in years. The weight of her past rejection and the fear of it happening again was almost too much to bear.
The reader pulled back slightly, their eyes searching hers. "What do you mean?"
Vi took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I'm usually the one in charge," she admitted, her voice shaky. "In... in every aspect of my life. I don't know how to be... submissive."
The reader leaned back, their expression thoughtful. "Vi," they said gently, "you don't have to be anyone but yourself with me." They placed a hand on her cheek, turning her face back towards them. "If you want to take the lead, I'm more than happy to follow."
Vi's eyes searched theirs, looking for any hint of deceit, but all she saw was understanding. "But... but what if I mess up?" she whispered, the fear of rejection still fresh in her mind.
The reader's smile grew, their eyes filled with warmth. "Vi, being submissive doesn't mean you're not in control," they explained gently. "You set the boundaries, you communicate your needs. It's about trusting me to take care of you, to give you what you want."
They paused, allowing her to process this new perspective. "When you're in this position, you're actually the one with the power," they continued, their voice low and soothing. "You're choosing to give it to me, to let me explore and adore you." They traced the line of her jaw with their thumb, their touch feather-light. "You're telling me where to touch you, how to make you feel good."
Vi's eyes searched theirs, the doubt slowly fading. She had never thought of it that way before. "But what if..." she began, but the reader silenced her with a kiss, their tongue gentle as it probed her mouth.
"Shh," they murmured, their breath warm against her lips. "Just feel, don't think." They leaned back, their eyes never leaving hers. "You tell me what you want, when you want it, how you want it. That's what makes you in control."
Vi's eyes searched the reader's, the doubt slowly lifting. The idea was foreign to her, but she found a strange comfort in the thought. "But what if..." she began again, but the reader's smile grew, silencing her fear
s.
"What if you're a masochist?" Vi blurted out, the words escaping before she could stop them. The room grew quiet, and she felt her face heat up with embarrassment. But the reader's gaze remained steady, their eyes filled with understanding. "I... I like it when it hurts," she admitted, her voice a mere whisper. "And I need eye contact. It's like... it grounds me."
The reader's smile grew into a grin. "Well, I'd say we're even then," they quipped, trying to lighten the mood. "I guess that makes me a sadist in your book."
Vi couldn't help but chuckle, the tension in the room dissipating slightly. "I don't have a book," she replied, her cheeks still flushed. "But I do have some preferences."
The reader's smile grew more playful, their eyes never leaving hers as they leaned in closer. "Well, then," they murmured, "I guess we'll just have to explore those together."
With a gentle touch, the reader's hand wrapped around Vi's throat, their thumb resting lightly against her pulse point. Vi's eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into it, her breath hitching as the pressure grew. The reader watched her closely, noting the way her pupils dilated and her cheeks grew even redder. They tightened their grip slightly, just enough to make her gasp.
Vi's hips rolled against them, her breath coming in short, erratic bursts. Her hands gripped the bedsheets, her knuckles white with tension. The reader's other hand moved to her mouth, their thumb stroking over her bottom lip. "You're so beautiful when you're like this," they murmured, their voice thick with desire.
Her eyes widened, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "I... I'm not," she protested, but the words were lost in a moan as the reader's hand tightened around her neck, cutting off her air just enough to make her squirm. She liked it when it hurt, when it felt like she couldn't take anymore, and yet she kept asking for more.
The reader chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent a thrill down her spine. "You're such a brat," they murmured against her ear, their teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. "But you're not going to manipulate me with that little act."
Vi's eyes narrowed, a spark of challenge in them. "What if I want to?" she pouted, pushing herself up slightly to press her breasts against the reader's chest.
The reader's grip on her neck tightened for a brief second, but they didn't give in. "I said no," they replied firmly, their voice a low growl. "We do this on your terms, but not if you're trying to push my boundaries."
Vi's eyes narrowed, the challenge clear. "Fine," she murmured, her voice dripping with a mix of annoyance and need. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against the reader's skin. "But what if I want you to?"
The reader's smile grew, but their eyes remained firm. "Vi," they said, their voice low and steady. "We're going to do this my way, not yours. You want pain, I'll give you pain. But it's going to be on my terms, not because you're being a brat."
Vi's eyes flashed with defiance, but she could feel the heat building between them. "Fine," she murmured, leaning back slightly. "But you're going to regret it when I'm the one in control."
The reader's grin grew, their eyes glinting with excitement. "Is that a promise?" They didn't wait for an answer, their hand moving from her throat to cup her cheek. Their thumb traced the path of her tear stains, their gaze softening. "But right now, you need to tell me what's really going on in that head of yours."
Vi took a shaky breath, her heart racing. "I like it when it's... intense," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "When I'm... overstimulated." She felt the heat of embarrassment creeping up her neck as she admitted her desires. "And I like it when... when it's denied."
The reader's eyes searched hers, a hint of understanding dawned. They leaned in closer, their breath warm against her skin. "Denial, huh?" They whispered, the word hanging heavy with meaning. "I can work with that."
They kissed her again, their hand moving down to trace the waistband of her pants. Vi's hips jerked in anticipation, but the reader didn't touch her where she wanted them to. Instead, they moved their hand away, leaving her on the edge. "But first," they murmured against her lips, "I want to hear you beg for it."
Vi's eyes flashed with frustration, but she didn't protest. She knew this was part of the dance, the delicate balance of power and submission. "Please," she breathed, her voice thick with desire. "I need you."
The reader's hand hovered just above her waistline, the heat of their skin teasing her. "Beg," they murmured, their voice low and commanding.
Vi's eyes searched the reader's, the desperation in her gaze clear. "Please," she whispered, her voice a mix of need and frustration. "Please, make me feel something."
The reader studied her for a long moment, their eyes filled with a mix of concern and desire. They knew that this was about more than just physical pleasure for Vi; it was about healing, about filling the void that Caitlyn had left. Slowly, they nodded, their hand moving to the button of her pants.
"I'll help you," they murmured, their voice thick with emotion. "But remember, you're in control. If it gets to be too much, or if you don't like something, tell me."
Vi just whines and nods fastly, her eyes pleading. She's desperate for release, for something to fill the emptiness Caitlyn left. The reader's hand slid down the zipper of her pants, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Vi's hips bucked upward, her need palpable. The reader's eyes never left hers as they slowly peeled back the fabric, revealing her black, lacy underwear.
But just as the reader's hand brushed against the fabric, something changed. Vi's body went rigid, and she pushed herself away with a sudden jolt, her eyes wide with confusion. The reader froze, their hand hovering just above her. "What's wrong?" they asked, their voice filled with concern.
Vi's hand flew to her jaw, her eyes glazed over with pain. "It's... it's nothing," she managed to say through gritted teeth, but the tremor in her voice gave her away. The reader could see the effort it took for her to hide her agony, and their heart ached for her.
They sat up, gently taking Vi's face in their hands, inspecting the bruise that Caitlyn's ring had left. "You're hurt," they said firmly, their voice filled with concern. "We can't do this if you're in pain."
Vi's eyes searched the reader's, her own filled with a mix of desperation and embarrassment. "I... I know," she stammered, her hand flying to her cheek. "It's just... it's been so long since someone has cared about me like this."
The reader's gaze softened, their grip on her jaw firm but gentle. "I'm not going anywhere," they assured her, their voice steady. "But we need to take care of this first." They carefully guided her to a nearby chair, the soft cushions a stark contrast to the cold, hard reality of the moment. "Sit," they instructed, their tone soothing.
Vi's eyes searched theirs, a silent plea for understanding. The reader could see the conflict within her, the need for comfort and the fear of vulnerability. They knelt before her, their eyes never leaving hers as they reached for the first aid kit on the nightstand. The room was quiet except for the sound of her labored breathing and the soft rustle of the medical supplies.
With gentle hands, the reader began to clean the bruise on Vi's cheek, their thumbs brushing away the tears that still clung to her lashes. Vi's eyes widened in surprise at the gesture, and she looked away, embarrassed. The reader leaned in closer, their eyes never leaving hers. "You don't have to be embarrassed with me, Vi," they murmured, their voice filled with warmth. "I'm here to take care of you."
Their touch was tender, almost reverent as they applied the cold compress to the bruise. Vi's body tensed at the initial contact, but she gradually relaxed into the soothing sensation. It was a stark contrast to the pain Caitlyn had inflicted, and she couldn't help but lean into it, seeking solace in the reader's care.
The reader's eyes never left hers as they worked, their gaze filled with a fierce protectiveness that made Vi's heart race. Despite the situation, she felt safe with them, as if she could finally let down her guard. But as the reality of their position set in—the reader kneeling before her, tending to her wounds—she felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. It was a strange, vulnerable feeling, one she wasn't quite used to.
"It's okay," the reader assured her, their voice gentle as they applied the cold compress. "You're safe here." Vi's eyes grew misty, and she nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. She had been so used to being the one in charge, the one who took care of everyone else, that she had forgotten what it was like to be cared for.
The reader's touch was soothing, but the stark reality of their position sent a jolt of embarrassment through Vi. Here she was, sitting in a chair with her pants undone, while the reader knelt before her, tending to her bruised cheek. It was a stark reminder of her vulnerability, a stark contrast to the power she usually wielded. She felt like she was losing control, like she was breaking apart at the seams.
Her eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at the reader. The walls felt like they were closing in on her, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. The reader's eyes searched hers, a question in their gaze, but Vi couldn't bring herself to speak. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she'd break down completely, that all the pain and anger she'd been holding in would come flooding out.
The reader must have sensed her discomfort, because they leaned back slightly, their hands still hovering over her cheek. "Vi," they said softly, "you don't have to be embarrassed around me."
Vi's eyes snapped back to theirs, the embarrassment morphing into defiance. "Why not?" she spat, her voice tight with pain. "You're seeing me at my weakest, my most pathetic."
The reader's gaze never wavered, their expression filled with a quiet strength. "Because I see you as you are, Vi," they replied softly. "A survivor. Someone who's been through hell and come out the other side, stronger for it." They paused, their voice gentle but firm. "And if you can't be vulnerable with me, then who can you be vulnerable with?"
Vi's eyes searched the reader's, the words cutting through the fog of her emotions like a knife. It was true; she had always been the one to take care of others, to hide her own pain behind a wall of sarcasm and bravado. But here, with the reader, she felt... safe. "I'm just not used to it," she murmured, her voice cracking.
The reader's smile was gentle, understanding. "I know," they said, taking her hand in theirs. "But I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what." They paused, their gaze never leaving hers. "I want to help you heal."
Vi's grip on the reader's hand tightened, the warmth of their skin grounding her. "But I don't know how," she admitted, her voice shaking. "I've never... I don't know how to be with someone without the games."
The reader's gaze was steady, filled with a gentle understanding that made Vi's chest ache. "We'll take it slow," they promised. "We'll figure it out together." They reached up and brushed a stray tear from her cheek, their touch feather-light. "But for now, let's just focus on making you feel better."
Vi nodded, her eyes dropping to the floor. The reader's words echoed in her mind, a reminder that she wasn't alone. But the thought of letting someone else take the reins was terrifying. She had always been the one to call the shots, the one who decided when and how she felt anything. But with Caitlyn's betrayal still fresh, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she needed someone to take care of her.
The reader stood up, their eyes never leaving Vi's. "Take off your clothes," they instructed, their voice firm but not unkind. Vi's eyes shot up to meet theirs, surprise and a hint of excitement flickering in their depths. They could see the wheels turning in her mind, the consideration of this newfound power dynamic.
With trembling hands, Vi began to unbuckle her pants, the leather whispering against her skin as she slid them down. The reader watched as she revealed herself, her black underwear clinging to her curves. They took a deep breath, their own desire growing. "Good," they murmured, their eyes traveling over her body. "Now get on the couch."
Vi's cheeks burned as she complied, her legs shaking slightly as she settled on the plush cushions. The reader sat down beside her, their gaze never leaving hers as they reached for her thighs. With a gentle but firm grip, they spread her legs apart, exposing her to their hungry gaze. Vi felt a thrill of excitement run through her, the anticipation building.
The reader leaned in, their warm breath ghosting over her sensitive skin. They kissed along the inside of her thigh, their hands cupping her hips as if to hold her in place. Vi's eyes fluttered closed, her body tensing in anticipation of their mouth on her. But instead of the expected contact, she felt the reader's fingertips trace light patterns on her stomach, moving closer and closer to her panties.
With a flick of their wrist, the fabric was pushed aside, exposing her already wet folds to the cool air. Vi's eyes snapped open, meeting the reader's hungry gaze. They didn't ask permission, they didn't need to; the way she was squirming, the desperate whimpers escaping her lips, told them all they needed to know. The reader's mouth descended, pressing soft kisses along the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs before finally reaching her center.
Vi's hips bucked upwards, seeking relief, but the reader held firm, their fingers digging into her hips as they held her in place. "Please," she whined, the word barely coherent as she writhed on the couch. "Please, I need..."
The reader looked up, their eyes meeting hers, a knowing smile playing on their lips. "Need what, Vi?" they murmured, their breath hot against her skin. "Tell me what you need."
Vi's eyes searched theirs, the desperation growing. "You," she moaned, her voice thick with want. "I need you to make me feel good."
The reader's smile grew, their eyes dark with lust. "You're going to have to be more specific than that," they said, their voice a low purr. "What do you want, Vi?"
Vi swallowed hard, her cheeks burning. She had never had to ask for what she wanted before, but she knew that if she didn't, she'd be denied. "Your... your mouth," she whispered, the words barely leaving her lips. "I want your mouth on me."
The reader's smile grew, their eyes darkening with lust. They leaned back, their own shirt disappearing over their head, revealing a lean, muscled torso that made Vi's stomach flip. They unbuckled their own pants, sliding them down to reveal their own desire. "And what do you want to do for me?" they asked, their voice low and teasing.
Vi's eyes widened as she took in the sight before her, the anticipation growing. "I... I want to taste you," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "I want to make you feel good too."
The reader's eyes lit up, the challenge accepted. They laid down on the couch, their head between Vi's thighs, and she could feel their breath on her already sensitive skin. She mirrored their position, her own need driving her. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, the heat from their skin melding together.
"Ready?" the reader murmured, their voice thick with anticipation. Vi nodded, her heart racing in her chest. This was it, the moment she had been craving, the moment she had been afraid to admit she needed.
The reader's tongue darted out, tracing the edges of her labia before delving into the warm, wet center of her. Vi's eyes rolled back, a moan escaping her lips. It was nothing like what Caitlyn had done—there was no roughness, no pain. Instead, it was gentle, almost reverent. The reader took their time, savoring every inch of her, their technique vastly different from the harsh, demanding touch she was used to.
Vi's hips bucked upwards, trying to force the reader's mouth closer, but they held firm, teasing her with feather-light kisses that had her panting and begging. It was a dance of wills, Vi's desperation clashing with the reader's patience. The reader knew she liked it rough, liked the pain, but they weren't going to give it to her, not yet. They were going to show her that there was more to intimacy than just the physical, that it could be about comfort and care.
Their tongue slid along her slit, the taste of her arousal making their mouth water. Vi's hands tangled in their hair, her nails digging in slightly as she tried to guide them, but the reader resisted, setting their own pace. They wanted to savor this moment, to show her that she could trust them, that they weren't going to hurt her.
The reader's tongue circled her clit, feeling it swell under their ministrations. Vi's breathing grew ragged, her body tightening with each pass. They knew she was close, but they didn't want it to end yet. They slid a finger inside her, feeling her quiver around them. Vi's eyes shot open, her pupils wide with shock and pleasure.
The reader's gaze held hers as they added a second finger, their thumb rubbing her clit in slow, deliberate circles. They watched as her eyelids grew heavy with lust, her mouth opening in a silent scream. She was so close, but they didn't want her to come yet. They wanted her to beg, to show that she truly craved this connection.
With a sudden burst of courage, Vi's hands tightened in the reader's hair, pulling them closer. "I want to ride your face," she whispered, her voice hoarse with need. But even as she spoke the words, embarrassment flooded her cheeks, and she couldn't meet their eyes.
The reader looked up at her, their eyes filled with a mix of surprise and arousal. They didn't miss the vulnerability in her gaze, the way she was holding her breath, waiting for their response. "Vi," they murmured, their voice filled with understanding. "It's okay." They kissed her inner thigh gently. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."
Vi took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "I... I want to ride your face," she said, her voice stronger this time, the words coming out with a hint of challenge. "But I... I'm embarrassed."
The reader's smile was gentle, their eyes filled with understanding. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about," they murmured, stroking her thigh. "You're beautiful, and I want you to feel good."
Vi took a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling with anticipation. She straddled the reader's face, her heart racing. The reader's hands found her hips, guiding her gently as she lowered herself down, their breath hot against her core. "Use me," they encouraged, their voice muffled.
Vi's cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the desperate need to feel something, anything, overrode her fear. She began to rock her hips, the reader's tongue sliding over her clit with each movement. The sensation was exquisite, a stark contrast to the pain Caitlyn had given her. It was as if she were reclaiming a part of herself that had been stolen, piece by delicious piece.
The reader's hands gripped her thighs tightly, their fingers digging into the flesh as they held her in place. Vi could feel her own muscles quivering with the effort to stay upright, but she didn't care. The pleasure was too intense, too all-consuming. The reader's eyes remained locked on hers, reading every expression, every twitch of her body like a map to her soul.
As Vi grew bolder, the reader's tongue grew more insistent, their movements more deliberate. They could feel her getting closer, her body tightening around their fingers. With a soft growl, they tugged her down, forcing her to take their entire mouth. Vi's eyes went wide, a gasp escaping her as she felt the reader's tongue press against her most sensitive spot, the pressure building until she couldn't hold back
anymore.
It was nothing like what Caitlyn had done to her. With Caitlyn, it had always been about the chase, the power play. The way she had used Vi's body, her pleasure merely a side effect of her own desires. But here, with the reader, it was different. It was as if the reader saw her, really saw her, and wanted to give her everything she had ever been denied.
Vi's hips began to move more erratically, her need spiraling out of control. The reader's grip tightened, their tongue swirling around her clit as if they had all the time in the world. And in that moment, Vi felt like they did. Like there was nothing else that mattered except for the connection between them.
Her movements grew more frantic, her body arching as she rode the reader's face, each stroke bringing her closer and closer to the edge. She didn't care if they could breathe; all that mattered was the feeling of their mouth on her, their tongue delving into her wetness, their fingers curling inside her. It was a symphony of sensations, a crescendo of pleasure that she had been craving for so long.
The reader's eyes remained locked on hers, their breathing shallow but steady as they took her weight, their mouth never leaving her. They could feel her muscles clenching around their fingers, the tremors growing stronger with each passing second. It was a heady feeling, to have someone so powerful, so fierce, at their mercy like this.
But as Vi's moans grew louder, the reader knew they had to be careful. They didn't want to push her too far, not when she was so fragile. They gently began to rub her thighs, trying to soothe her, their touch a stark contrast to the intensity of their earlier teasing. It was a silent reassurance that they were here, that she was safe.
Vi's body stiffened, her muscles tightening as she felt the first waves of orgasm crash over her. Her hips bucked wildly, and she couldn't hold back the scream that tore from her throat. The reader felt her clench around their fingers, her juices gushing onto their face in a sweet, sticky release. It was a powerful moment, one that filled them with a sense of awe and accomplishment.
The reader didn't flinch, didn't pull away, even as Vi's body quivered above them. They kept their mouth in place, lapping up every drop of her release, savoring the taste of her pleasure. Vi's eyes widened in shock as she realized what was happening, but the reader's gaze remained steady, filled with a gentle reassurance that she was safe.
Her orgasm went on for what felt like an eternity, each pulse sending a new wave of pleasure through her body. When it finally subsided, Vi collapsed against the reader's chest, panting heavily. The reader's arms wrapped around her, holding her close as she trembled with the aftershocks. "You're okay," they murmured, their voice a soothing rumble against her skin.
Vi nodded, her eyes still closed as she tried to regain control of her breathing. But as the reality of the moment set in, she jolted up, a desperate need to kiss the reader consuming her. Her movements were frantic, her mouth finding theirs with an urgency that took them by surprise. She kissed them as if she were trying to erase every other kiss she had ever had, as if she were trying to redefine what it meant to be alive.
The reader didn't question it, didn't pull away. Instead, they held her tighter, cradling her against their chest as they deepened the kiss. Their arms wrapped around her, providing a sense of security and warmth that she hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity. Their tongues danced together, exploring every inch of each other's mouths with a passion that left Vi feeling both dizzy and grounded.
They finally pulled apart, a string of saliva connecting them briefly before breaking, leaving a trail of stickiness on their lips. Vi's eyes searched the reader's, the desperation in her gaze unmistakable. She needed this, needed them, and she didn't know how to express it without scaring them away.
The reader seemed to understand without words, their expression softening as they cradled Vi's head against their chest. The steady beat of their heart was a soothing rhythm that echoed through her entire being, calming the storm that raged within. "You don't have to say it," they murmured, their voice a gentle rumble that vibrated through her body. "I'll wait for you to be ready."
Vi's eyes filled with tears as she listened to the reassuring words, the warmth of the reader's embrace enveloping her like a blanket. It had been so long since someone had offered her comfort without expecting anything in return. The weight of her own vulnerability was almost too much to bear, but the reader's arms around her made it feel a little lighter.
With a shaky breath, she pushed herself further into the reader, trying to disappear into the warmth and safety they provided. Her body melded against theirs, her breasts pressing into their chest, her legs wrapping around their waist. It was as if she were trying to become one with them, to lose herself in the embrace. The reader held her tighter, their hands stroking her back in gentle, soothing circles.
As Vi's breathing evened out, she felt the beginnings of sleep tugging at her consciousness. But before she could slip away, she heard the reader whisper something so faint it was almost inaudible. "I love you," the words barely registered in her foggy mind. Her eyes shot open, but she was too overwhelmed to react, too afraid of what this could mean. Instead, she lay there, listening to the steady beat of their heart, feeling the warmth of their breath on her neck.
Slowly, she became aware of the gentle throb in her chest, and she placed a hand over her heart, feeling the erratic rhythm beneath her fingertips. It was a feeling she had thought lost to her, a feeling that had been buried under layers of pain and anger. But here, in the reader's arms, it was as if the floodgates had opened, releasing a torrent of emotions she hadn't even realized she had been holding back.
Her eyes searched the reader's, looking for any sign of deceit, but all she found was sincerity. The reader's gaze was open, their eyes filled with a warmth that made her heart stutter. Vi leaned in closer, her cheek pressing against the reader's chest, listening to the steady thump of their heart. It was a reassuring sound, a promise that she wasn't alone in this tumultuous sea of feelings.
Slowly, she lifted her head, her eyes meeting theirs once again. The air between them was charged with a tension that was both terrifying and exhilarating. Without a word, she closed the distance, her mouth finding theirs in a kiss that was as gentle as it was fierce. It was an acknowledgment of their newfound bond, a silent promise to navigate this uncharted territory together.
Vi's hands roamed the reader's body, exploring the contours of their muscles, memorizing the feel of their skin. She didn't know how to express the tumult of emotions inside her, so she let her actions speak for her. The reader responded in kind, their own hands running along her spine, sending shivers down her body.
But as the reality of the situation sank in, Vi's movements grew erratic. Panic bubbled up in her chest as she realized she had forgotten to say those three little words back. Her heart hammered in her ears, and she pulled away, her eyes wide with fear. The reader looked at her, a flicker of confusion crossing their features.
Vi's mind raced, her thoughts a tangled web of doubt and insecurity. What if they didn't mean it? What if they had just said it in the heat of the moment? What if she had just ruined everything by not responding? The fear of rejection, the fear of being vulnerable, it all came rushing back, threatening to drown her.
The reader, however, remained calm, their eyes searching hers with a gentle curiosity. "Vi," they murmured, reaching up to cup her cheek. "It's okay."
But Vi was already spiraling, her thoughts racing as she tried to find the right words to express the chaos within her. "I'm sorry," she choked out, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry, I just—"
The reader's thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "Sorry for what?" they asked, their tone gentle, their eyes searching hers for understanding. "For feeling something real?"
Vi's chest tightened, and she couldn't bring herself to speak. The fear of rejection was a beast she had faced many times before, but with the reader, it felt different. It was as if she had been handed a fragile treasure and was now fumbling with it, afraid of breaking it. "I... I didn't say it back," she managed to murmur, her voice barely above a whisper.
The reader's eyes searched hers, their expression filled with patience. "It's okay, Vi," they reassured her, their thumb still stroking her cheek. "You don't have to say it if you don't mean it."
Vi's chest tightened even further, the weight of the unspoken words a heavy burden. "But I do," she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. "I just... I don't know how to."
The reader's eyes searched hers, the gentle stroking of her cheek never ceasing. "It's okay," they said again, their voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. "You don't have to know right now. We'll figure it out together."
Vi's eyes widened as the words sank in. The reader wasn't pushing her away, wasn't rejecting her. They were giving her space, offering her the same patience and understanding she hadn't received from anyone else. It was a stark contrast to Caitlyn's demanding nature, a stark contrast to the painful games she had been accustomed to.
"You... you know?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "You know that I still have feelings for her?"
The reader nodded, their eyes never leaving hers. "It's okay, Vi," they murmured, their voice a soothing balm. "Caitlyn's... she's captivating. It's hard not to love someone like that."
Vi felt a strange mix of relief and guilt at the admission. It was as if the reader had peered into her soul and understood the tumultuous mess of emotions she had been trying to hide. "But I hurt you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "How can you... How can you still want this?"
The reader's eyes searched hers, their thumb still tenderly caressing her cheek. "Because I know you didn't mean to," they said gently. "And because, despite it all, I think there's something real between us. Something worth fighting for."
Vi stared at them, the weight of their words settling heavily in her chest. It was true that Caitlyn was hot, that there was a magnetic pull to the blonde enigma that had captured her heart and crushed it in the same breath. But here, in the reader's arms, she felt a warmth, a connection she hadn't felt in a long time. "You really don't mind?" she asked, her voice still shaky.
The reader's smile was gentle, their eyes filled with a warmth that seemed to chase away the shadows of doubt. "I mind that she hurt you," they said firmly. "But I don't mind that you have feelings for her. What I want is for you to love yourself more, Vi. And if, in time, you find that you love me too... well, that's just a bonus."
Vi couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from her chest, a sound that had been so foreign to her lately. "You're pretty charming," she said, her voice teasing despite the thickness of her emotions. "You think all you have to do is take care of me and I'll just fall for you?"
The reader grinned, their eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, it's not rocket science," they said, their tone playfully arrogant. "Feed you, keep you warm, make you feel good. It's a foolproof plan, really."
Vi couldn't help the giggle that escaped her, the sound music to the reader's ears. It was the first genuine laughter they had heard from her since they had found her in the shaft. "Is that your grand strategy?" she asked, her voice still a little shaky from the aftermath of her climax and the emotional turmoil that had followed.
The reader chuckled, their hands still stroking her back in gentle, soothing circles. "Well, your taste in women is questionable at best," they teased, their voice filled with affectionate warmth. "So, I figured if I could win you over with my charming personality, I'd be ahead of the game."
Vi couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. Despite the pain that still lingered from Caitlyn's betrayal, she found comfort in the reader's words, in the way they made her feel seen and valued. "Your ego's pretty inflated," she said, poking them lightly in the chest.
The reader's grin grew wider, their eyes dancing with amusement. "Hey," they said, their tone playfully defensive, "I've got the skills to back it up."
Vi rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smirk that tugged at her lips. Despite the raw vulnerability of their earlier conversation, the reader had managed to coax a bit of lightness into the room, something she hadn't felt in a long time. "Your charming personality and... what else?" she asked, her voice teasing.
The reader leaned back, their hands still playing gently with Vi's hair. "Well, let's just say I've had my fair share of... practice," they said with a knowing wink.
Vi's smile grew a bit sad at the mention of the brothel. She knew the reader's past, the countless faces and hands they had endured. "You don't have to tell me," she murmured, her heart aching for them.
But the reader only chuckled, their eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, but you see, that's where you're wrong," they said, their voice light and playful. "My time there wasn't all bad. It's where I learned all my... skills."
Vi's eyebrows shot up, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. "You're telling me you picked up a few tricks from the brothel?" she asked, her voice filled with skepticism.
The reader chuckled, a warm sound that seemed to fill the room. "Let's just say I had a very thorough education," they replied with a wink. "But what's important is that I'm here with you now, and I want to use what I know to make you happy."
Vi felt a pang of curiosity. "Who taught you?" she asked, her voice a whisper. The reader's expression grew more serious, a hint of sadness flitting across their features before it was replaced with a small, knowing smile.
"Sevika," they replied, the name rolling off their tongue like a secret shared only in the darkest of whispers. "She was... a mentor of sorts. Taught me the art of pleasure, the power of submission and control."
Vi felt a twinge of jealousy, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time. She had always prided herself on her independence, on not needing anyone else to be whole. But as she watched the way the reader spoke about Sevika, with a mix of admiration and something deeper, she couldn't help but feel a stab of something raw and uncomfortable. It was as if she were peering into a part of the reader's life that she hadn't been allowed to see before, a part that was filled with passion and pain, a part that she hadn't been a part of.
The reader must have noticed the shift in her expression because their eyes searched hers, their smile fading slightly. "What's wrong?" they asked, their voice gentle.
Vi took a deep breath, trying to push the jealousy down. "It's just... Sevika," she murmured, her eyes dropping to the floor. "Everyone knows about her. The way she... taught you."
The reader's smile softened, their eyes searching hers. "Vi," they said gently, "you know I'm here with you now, right?"
Vi nodded, trying to keep the jealousy at bay. It wasn't fair to compare herself to Sevika, not when she knew so little about what had really gone on between them. But it was hard to ignore the way everyone talked about her, the way their eyes lit up when they spoke her name. She was the ultimate seductress, the queen of the underground. And now, Vi was in the reader's arms, feeling the same passion, the same power that she had taught them
.
The reader's thumb traced small circles on her cheek, bringing her back to the present. "Vi," they said softly, "it's okay. I'm here with you now."
But Vi's mind was still racing with thoughts of Sevika, of the power dynamics she had introduced to the reader's life. It was a world she didn't fully understand, a world that was as alluring as it was terrifying. "But you learned all this from her," she murmured, her voice tight with jealousy. "How can I compare?"
The reader's eyes searched hers, a flicker of understanding crossing their features. "You don't have to compare," they said, their voice firm but gentle. "What I had with her was different. It was about survival, about finding a place in a world that didn't want us. What we have is about choice, about finding each other in the chaos."
Vi's eyes searched the reader's, looking for any sign of deceit, but all she found was sincerity. She took a deep breath, trying to push the jealousy down. "But she was so powerful," she whispered. "And you... you're so..."
The reader's eyes twinkled with amusement as they leaned in closer, whispering against her ear, "And yet, I can assure you, there were times when even the mighty Sevika was on her knees, begging for more."
Vi's eyes widened with surprise, and she pulled back to look at them. "What? You... you dominated her?" she asked, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief.
The reader's grin grew, their eyes dancing with mischief. "Well, it's not like I went in there to be dominated," they said with a wink. "But let's just say, I learned a thing or
two."
Vi's eyes narrowed playfully, and she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from her chest. It was such a ludicrous thought, Sevika, the woman who had ruled the underground with an iron fist, begging for anything. "You're full of surprises," she said, her voice filled with warmth.
The reader's smile grew softer, their eyes never leaving hers. "Only for you, Vi," they murmured, their voice dropping to a whisper. "Only for you."
Vi's eyes searched theirs for a moment longer before she finally nodded, the last of her resistance crumbling. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But just for tonight."
The reader's smile grew softer, and they shifted their position, moving behind her to spoon her. Vi felt their warmth against her back, the gentle pressure of their body a comfort she hadn't known she needed. They wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and she couldn't help but lean into them, feeling their warmth seep into her very bones.
For a while, they lay there in silence, the only sounds in the room the steady rhythm of their breathing and the occasional crackle of the fire. It was a peacefulness that Vi hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. But as the minutes ticked by, her mind began to wander, thoughts of Caitlyn and Sevika swirling together like a tornado of doubt and inadequacy.
Finally, when she was sure that the silence had stretched on for long enough that the question wouldn't seem out of place, she spoke up, her voice a tentative whisper. "Teach me," she said, her heart racing in anticipation of the reader's reaction. "Teach me everything you learned from Sevika."
The reader's body tensed for a moment before they relaxed, their breathing evening out. "What do you mean?" they asked, their tone a careful blend of curiosity and hes
itation.
Vi took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the reader's embrace enveloping her. "I want to learn everything you know," she whispered, turning in their arms to face them. "I want to be better than her."
The reader's eyes searched hers, the flicker of understanding giving way to a soft smile. They knew the depth of Vi's pain, the need to reclaim her power in the wake of Caitlyn's betrayal. "Vi," they said gently, "you don't have to be anyone but yourself."
Vi's gaze was unyielding, her determination palpable. "Please," she begged, her voice a tremble of hope. "I need this. To prove to myself that I can be more, that I can make you feel more."
The reader's eyes searched hers for a moment, their expression a blend of admiration and concern. "Vi," they said, their voice a soft caress. "You already make me feel everything. You don't need to be like Sevika to be amazing."
Vi's eyes searched the reader's, her heart racing with anticipation. "But I want to be more," she insisted, her voice a whisper. "I want to make you feel things she never could."
The reader's smile grew, their eyes filled with warmth. "Vi, you already do," they murmured, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "What we have is special because it's between us, not because of what I had with Sevika."
Vi took a deep breath, the scent of the reader's skin filling her nostrils. "But I want to know," she persisted, her voice a mix of desperation and curiosity. "I want to be the one who makes you feel good."
The reader's smile grew a bit sad as they leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Vi's cheek. "You already do, sweetheart," they murmured. "Every time you laugh, every time you smile, it's like the sun coming out from behind the clouds."
Vi's eyes searched theirs, the doubt still lingering. "But I don't know how to do what you do," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how to make you feel the way you make me feel."
The reader's smile grew a bit sad as they tightened their hold around her. "You already do, Vi," they murmured. "Every time you laugh, every time you're in my arms, it's like the sun coming out from behind the clouds."
Vi felt a warmth spread through her chest at their words, but the doubt was still there, a persistent whisper in the back of her mind. "But I want to be the one who makes you feel good," she said, her voice a mix of desperation and curiosity. "Teach me what she taught you."
The reader's expression grew serious as they studied her, their thumb still tracing gentle circles on her arm. "Vi," they said, their voice firm but gentle, "I'm with you because I want to be, not because I have to be."
Vi's eyes searched theirs, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but all she found was truth. "But what if I'm not enough?" she whispered, the fear of inadequacy rearing its ugly head once again.
The reader leaned in, their eyes filled with warmth and patience. "You're more than enough," they said, their voice steady and firm. "But if it's what you truly want, I'll show you."
Vi felt a surge of excitement at the offer, and she nodded eagerly. "Yes," she breathed, her eyes shining with anticipation. "Please."
The reader leaned in closer, their gaze searching hers for any sign of hesitation before they spoke. "Vi," they said, their voice a warm caress, "you know this isn't about replacing what you had with Caitlyn. It's about finding something new with me
."
Vi nodded, the understanding sinking in. "I know," she murmured, her eyes never leaving the reader's. "I just... I want to learn."
The reader studied her for a moment longer before a slow smile spread across their face. "Alright," they said, their voice filled with mischief. "But remember, this is all about what makes you feel good, not about replacing anyone."
They sat up and scooped Vi into their arms, her eyes widening in surprise at the sudden movement. She wrapped her arms around their neck, her legs around their waist, as they stood from the bed. "You're sure you're okay with this?" they asked, their eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt.
Vi nodded, her heart racing with excitement and nerves. "I trust you," she whispered, her voice barely a breath.
The reader's smile grew, their eyes filled with affection. "Then let's start with something simple," they said, setting her down gently. They took her hand and led her to the center of the room, the soft light from the fireplace casting a warm glow on their faces. "Just follow my lead," they instructed, "and tell me if anything feels uncomfortable."
Vi nodded, her heart racing as she took a deep breath. She could feel the reader's warmth, the gentle squeeze of their hand in hers, and she knew she was safe. "Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
The reader stepped closer, their eyes never leaving hers. "Ready?" they asked, a hint of excitement in their voice.
Vi nodded, her breath hitching in anticipation. The reader leaned down, their arms wrapping around her waist, and with a gentle heave, they lifted her into the air. She gasped, her legs instinctively wrapping around their shoulders, her arms clutching at their neck for balance. The world spun around them as the reader carried her back to the bed, a thrill racing through her veins.
They set her down gently, the soft mattress giving way beneath her. The reader hovered over her, their eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort. "Is this okay?" they asked, their voice a gentle whisper.
Vi nodded, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Yes," she breathed, her legs already parted slightly in invitation.
The reader's smile grew as they settled between her thighs, their eyes never leaving hers. "Good," they murmured, placing their hands on her hips. "Now, just like this," they instructed, demonstrating with their own body how to rock against hers.
Vi's eyes grew wide as she watched, her breathing growing heavier as she felt the heat between them. "Like this?" she asked, her voice tentative as she mimicked their movements.
The reader nodded, their smile encouraging. "Exactly," they murmured, their hands guiding hers. "Just like that."
Vi felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she watched the reader's hips move in a slow, sensuous rhythm against hers. It was mesmerizing, the way they moved with such ease and confidence. She tried to mimic their movements, her own hips tentatively rocking against the reader's. The sensation was strange, but not unpleasant. The warmth between them grew, and she couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her lips as she felt the friction build.
The reader leaned in closer, their breath hot against her ear as they whispered encouragement. "That's it," they murmured. "Just feel the moment, let your body guide you." Their voice was a soothing balm, calming the nerves that had taken root in her belly.
Vi felt their hands slide up her thighs, guiding her legs apart. She gasped as the reader's strong arms lifted one of her legs, draping it over their shoulder. The new angle was surprising, a fresh wave of sensation washing over her as their hips pressed closer to hers. She could feel the heat of their arousal, the warmth of their skin, the promise of what was to come.
Their eyes searched hers, making sure she was okay before they began to move. Vi nodded, her breath coming in shallow pants as she watched their hips rock against her. It was an intimate dance, one she had never shared with anyone before. The reader's movements were slow and deliberate, each thrust sending a bolt of pleasure through her.
With a gentle nudge, the reader lifted one of Vi's legs, placing it on their shoulder. The new angle was surprising, and she gasped as she felt their body press closer to hers, their warmth enveloping her. She could feel the dampness between her legs, the evidence of her arousal. The act was simple, yet it spoke volumes about the trust and vulnerability they were building together.
The reader's eyes searched hers, a silent question in their gaze. Vi nodded, her cheeks flushing as she gave her consent. The reader began to rock their hips against hers, the friction creating a delicious sensation that made her toes curl. They moved with a patience that she hadn't expected, taking their time to explore the new position, ensuring she was comfortable with each movement.
Vi felt the heat pooling in her belly, a delicious ache that grew with each gentle collision. She watched the reader's face, the way their eyes closed in concentration, the way their breath grew ragged. It was like watching a master craftsman at work, their movements precise and deliberate, designed to elicit the most exquisite pleasure.
The reader began to increase their rhythm, their hips moving faster against hers. Vi could feel the pressure building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within her. She gripped the bedsheets, her knuckles white with the effort to stay still, to let the reader control the pace.
"Good girl," the reader murmured, their breath hot against her skin. "You're doing so well."
Vi felt a shiver run through her body at the praise, her eyes fluttering closed as she tried to focus on the sensations. It was strange, feeling so vulnerable and yet so empowered at the same time. She knew she was holding back, her body tensing with the effort to keep from letting go too soon.
The reader's voice was a gentle rumble against her skin, their praise washing over her like a warm embrace. "That's it," they murmured, their hips moving faster now, the pressure building. "You're doing so well, Vi. Just let go."
Vi's eyes flew open, meeting the reader's gaze. "I just want to be good for you," she whispered, her voice trembling with need.
The reader's smile grew, their eyes filled with affection. "You already are, Vi," they murmured, their voice a gentle caress. "You're so strong, so brave, and so beautiful."
Vi felt her chest swell with pride at the praise. "But I want to be good for you," she repeated, her voice a whimper of need.
The reader leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "You are, Vi," they whispered against her mouth. "Every time you let me in, every time you trust me with your body, you're giving me more than I could ever ask for."
Vi's eyes searched theirs, looking for any sign of deceit, but all she found was truth. "But I want to be more than just good," she whispered, her voice tight with need. "I want to be amazing for you."
The reader's smile grew, their eyes never leaving hers. "Vi," they said gently, "you already are amazing. You're a good girl, holding back, asking for what you need."
With those words, the reader leaned in, their lips brushing against the shell of her ear before moving down the side of her neck. Vi's breath hitched, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt the warmth of their mouth against her sensitive skin. They kissed a slow trail down to her collarbone, each caress sending shivers down her spine.
"Good girls get rewards," the reader murmured against her skin, their voice a seductive purr that sent a thrill through Vi's body. She felt their breath, hot and tantalizing, as they whispered sweet nothings that seemed to unlock parts of her she didn't even know existed.
Their kisses grew more insistent, moving from behind her ears to her neck, tracing a fiery path down to her collarbone. Vi's eyes fluttered closed, her body arching into the reader's touch. She had never felt so cherished, so desired. It was intoxicating, a heady cocktail of power and submission that she hadn't realized she craved until now.
"You're such a good girl," the reader murmured against her skin, their voice a warm caress. "So good for me."
Vi's eyes shot open, the words like a spark in a dry field. She felt the pressure building, her body tightening like a coil ready to spring. The reader's praise was like a gentle push, urging her over the edge. "Oh god," she gasped, her nails digging into the reader's shoulders. "I'm... I'm going to..."
"That's it," the reader whispered, their voice a soothing balm. "Come for me, Vi. Let go and be my bitch “
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Vi's eyes widened. Then she heard the laughter in the reader's voice, the playfulness that belied the power of their words. "Your bitch?" she asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
The reader grinned, their teeth flashing white in the dim light. "Only if you want to be," they teased, their hips still moving in a delicious rhythm against hers.
Vi felt a bubble of laughter rise in her chest, the tension dissipating in the face of their playfulness. "Is that what this is all about?" she asked, her voice a mix of amusement and incredulity.
The reader leaned back, their eyes sparkling with mirth. "Well, it's definitely a perk," they said, their smile playful. "But it's more about finding what feels good for both of us."
Vi couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, the tension in the room dissipating like a popped balloon. "I think I can handle that," she said, her voice a mix of amusement and relief.
— come a little closer
hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]
synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.
content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.
fic soundtrack: i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi
author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol
main masterlist | arcane masterlist
VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.
One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, who’s rare to come by these days.
Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.
In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.
Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.
Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.
You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.
Until it is.
It all starts at The Afterparty.
Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.
She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.
The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.
And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.
The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.
With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.
She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.
“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”
You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.
“Sorry,” you hum passively.
She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.
The step creaks under pure muscle.
Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.
The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.
But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.
It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.
“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.
Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.
“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.
“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.
And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.
“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”
She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.
You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.
“________,” you offer.
She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.
“And you go to school here?” she asks.
You nod once.
“Neuroscience, fourth year.”
“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.
“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”
Vi’s floored.
“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.
“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”
“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”
You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.
“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”
“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.
And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.
Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.
“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.
No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.
The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.
“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.
You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.
“Maybe.”
Vi decides that she needs to see you again.
You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.
“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.
“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”
“So?”
“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”
Her teammate snorts.
“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”
The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.
Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.
From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.
“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”
Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.
“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.
“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.
“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”
And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.
Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.
You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.
“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.
Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.
“Violet,” you acknowledge.
And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.
The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.
“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.
“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”
You don’t even bat an eye.
“I did.”
“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”
“I am.”
“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.
Especially when you look up at her like that.
You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.
“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.
Vi could melt.
“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”
“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.
Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.
“So I can get paid?” you fill in.
“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”
You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.
“You’re fucking joking!”
The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Maddie,” you whisper.
“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.
“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”
“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”
You look around in disbelief.
“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”
“What else would she— are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”
“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”
It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.
“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”
“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Don’t start.”
“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”
You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.
Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.
“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.
If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.
Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.
“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.
“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.
“Maddie,” you warn.
“Love you, see you at home!”
Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.
“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.
“Hi.”
A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.
“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”
Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.
Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.
“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.
Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.
“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.
“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.
It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.
You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.
“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.
“Huh?”
Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.
“Am I going too fast?”
“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”
You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.
Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.
You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.
You decide to fold your cards first.
“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”
No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.
“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”
You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.
“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”
She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.
“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”
And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.
But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you’re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.
You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.
You refresh for good measure.
“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”
You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.
Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.
You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.
A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.
When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.
Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.
“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.
Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.
“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”
And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.
The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.
“Violet.”
Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.
She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.
“V—”
“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”
“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”
Vi’s smile is crooked.
“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”
“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?
You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.
She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.
“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”
Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.
“N-No,” you stammer.
“Great, see you tomorrow?“
You swallow.
“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”
Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.
Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.
“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.
You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.
“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”
And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.
“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.
“Jack shit,” she laughs.
And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.
“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.
“Sure, anything.”
“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”
And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.
Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.
“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.
You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.
“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”
Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.
It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.
“Hungry?” you ask.
“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.
Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.
“Not since breakfast,” you admit.
“You like pizza?”
“Only the good kind,” you challenge.
“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”
Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.
“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.
You shake your head.
“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.
It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.
Vi’s desperate for more.
“As in?”
You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.
“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”
Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.
“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”
And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.
“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”
Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.
“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”
“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”
“God, marry me now.”
She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.
“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.
“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”
Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.
“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”
You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.
“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.
“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.
You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.
“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”
“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”
And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You’re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.
That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?
Like cigarettes?
no, weed, dummy.
Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.
She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.
And then she gets the invite.
Ellie swears it’s her in.
“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.
“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.
“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”
“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.
“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”
“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.
You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.
If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.
“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”
Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.
You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.
“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”
Vi raises a brow.
“My cat,” you clarify.
“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.
But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.
Cute. So fucking cute.
You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.
“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”
You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.
“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”
And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.
“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.
You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.
“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”
“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”
She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.
“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”
You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.
“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.
“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”
It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.
Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.
“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.
“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.
“Vi,” you whimper.
And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.
She resists a smile.
“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”
You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.
“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.
Test the waters, cop a feel.
Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.
She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.
“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.
“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.
Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.
“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”
You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.
“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”
A small little laugh puffs from your lips.
“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.
Vi deflates in relief.
“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”
Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.
Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.
Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.
It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.
It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.
5—4.
The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.
She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.
You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.
They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.
Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.
The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.
“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.
Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.
“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.
Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.
So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.
She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.
“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.
“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.
She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.
“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”
You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.
“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”
She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.
Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.
“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.
When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.
“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.
You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.
She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.
“Maybe,” you whisper finally.
“Maybe what?” Vi teases.
“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.
“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.
It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.
You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.
You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.
“Puck off.”
Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.
“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.
You whine.
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.
“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”
And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.
You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.
“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.
Violet only snorts a laugh.
“Whatever, good game,” she calls.
Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.
“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”
“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.
She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.
“Leave it.”
Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.
The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.
She winks.
You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.
You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.
You should come, I can pick you up.
But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.
Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.
“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.
You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!
“Yeah?”
Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.
“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.
Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.
You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.
You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.
“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.
Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.
“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.
You breath out a little laugh.
“Here I am.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”
Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—
“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”
You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.
“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”
I wanted you to want me.
“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.
She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.
“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”
It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.
You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.
“You okay?” she hums.
Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.
You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.
“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.
When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.
You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.
You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.
Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.
As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.
You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.
“What do you like to do?” she asks you.
All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.
“Uh.”
Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.
But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.
Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.
It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.
You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.
“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”
Ellie laughs benevolently.
“You have a cat?”
“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”
“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”
And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.
“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”
“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”
It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.
She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.
“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”
Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.
She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.
This is getting fucking ridiculous.
The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.
It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.
“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.
She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.
And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.
“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.
“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.
She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.
“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”
Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.
You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.
“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.
A nervous giggle bubbles.
“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.
“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”
You bite.
“If you ask nicely.”
She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.
“Can I?” she husks.
You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.
“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”
The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.
“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”
To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.
Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.
Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.
You’re staring, hard.
Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.
She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.
You relax a fraction.
“Everything okay?”
You smile, something small.
“Yeah, good,” you assure her.
The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.
You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.
“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”
Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.
“Like right now?”
You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.
“Like right now,” you confirm.
She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—
“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”
She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.
“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”
Your heartbeat skips.
“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.
Vi’s grinning wide.
“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”
And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.
It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.
“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”
You think for a moment before shaking your head.
“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”
“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.
“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.
She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”
“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”
“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”
“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.
“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”
Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.
“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.
“I admit it was a little strange, but—”
“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”
And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.
You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.
“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”
And you’re running.
Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.
She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.
sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.
Her expression screws up.
everything ok? can i do anything for you?
sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.
I’ll see you next week.
But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.
She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.
She sighs. Hard.
You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.
It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.
violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3
You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.
Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?
.
.
.
Then you add, We can smoke.
Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.
You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.
Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.
She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.
“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.
It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.
You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.
Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.
“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.
“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.
“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.
Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.
This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.
“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”
“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.
“Like?”
“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”
You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.
“Uh-huh?”
“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”
You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.
Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.
You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.
“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”
You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.
“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”
And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.
Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.
“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”
She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.
“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”
I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—
“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”
Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.
“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”
One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.
“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”
Oh.
Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.
“But?”
The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.
“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.
“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.
“Violet,” you sigh.
“Abuse what?” she husks.
“I know you—”
“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”
“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”
“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”
Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.
“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”
And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.
She clambers back into the driver’s seat.
“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.
“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”
Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.
“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”
“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”
Your breath catches.
“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.
“Why?”
“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”
It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.
“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”
“You really believe that?”
“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”
Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.
“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”
Vi’s brows furrow.
“You’re what?”
“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”
And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.
“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.
You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.
“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”
It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.
“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”
“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”
Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.
“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.
Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.
You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.
sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.
She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.
thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.
“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.
Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.
And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.
It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.
“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.
“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.
“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”
Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.
“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.
Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.
“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”
You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.
violet <3: can i see you this week?
You open Instagram.
sev.94 has requested to follow you! sev.94 has sent you a message request!
Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.
sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this. sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is sev.94 sent a video. sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.
You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.
You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.
The bracelet.
Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.
(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.
She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.
“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.
“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.
Ellie’s face scrunches.
“Huh?”
“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”
Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.
“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”
Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.
It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.
This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.
You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.
And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.
You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.
xxxx: i really miss you.
You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.
You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.
“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”
You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.
“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.
“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.
“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”
“Fuck you,” you whisper.
“What?”
“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”
Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.
“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”
You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.
“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”
Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.
The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.
You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.
The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.
Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.
“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.
“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”
You humph.
“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”
“And that’s my problem because...?”
“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”
“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”
“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”
You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.
“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”
Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.
“Violet’s in love with you.”
And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.
“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.
Ellie’s brows shoot up.
“Whoa, what?”
“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.
“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she’s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”
“There’s a video.”
Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.
She reaches a palm out.
Show me.
You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.
She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.
“She’s fucking dead.”
When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.
It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.
Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.
She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.
“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”
The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.
Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.
It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.
And there, front and center of the student section is you.
Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.
At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.
“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”
Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.
“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.
And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.
7—5.
The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.
She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.
Her bracelet.
You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.
The crowd cheers.
Fight, fight fight!
You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.
Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.
Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.
“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.
“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.
Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”
Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.
She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.
“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.
“Hi,” you squeak.
A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.
“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.
And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.
“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”
You swallow.
“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”
“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”
You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.
“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.
“I know.”
She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.
“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”
Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.
“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”
“I don’t,” you admit.
Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.
“We could start off with the obvious.”
One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.
“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”
You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.
“Vi.”
“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.
She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.
“Pl—ease.”
“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”
“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”
Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.
The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.
Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.
“Maddie home?” she breathes.
“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”
“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”
“Oh–”
One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.
You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.
Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.
“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.
Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.
“Fuck.”
“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.
And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.
“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”
“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”
You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.
“Vi.”
Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.
“F...F—uck,” you sigh.
“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”
You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.
And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.
She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.
“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”
She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.
You cry out when her fingers slip out.
She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.
You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.
She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.
You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.
“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”
Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.
“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.
“Nnngh, fuck!”
“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”
“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”
She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.
“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.
And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.
Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”
You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”
“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”
She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.
The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.
It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.
Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.
“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”
She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.
You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.
You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.
“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.
“I know, I know.”
You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.
“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”
The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.
You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.
You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.
Everything except Vi.
Oh, you think to yourself.
Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.
But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.
The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.
You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.
You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.
“Babe?”
Your gaze snaps up.
Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.
She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.
“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”
You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.
“Thought you left,” you croak.
Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.
“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”
You whine.
“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”
Violet groans.
“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.
“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.
“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.
Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.
She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.
Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.
One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.
And frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.
neng © 2024
broken rosary, cinnabar dreams
+18, mdni; bc @vifilms inspired me so hard with her insane drabble i had to restart my laptop and bang this out before the words left me for good; so this one's for u raybaebae !
tw: heavy religious imagery, body worship, blasphemy (lol), extremely mixed metaphors, just stream of consciousness at this point
you think that perhaps god made women because he'd looked at men and said i think can do better. but you're convinced that when god made vi, he'd turned to the nearest angel and said goddamn, i'm good.
and you would worship her like she was made to be worshiped, kiss every inch of her skin till her breaths start to sound like monastic prayers, mark her skin with your piety, offer up bloodied palms and bruising knees, press your forehead to the muscle of her thigh and anoint yourself in her essence. you would worship her, yes. and her fingers in your hair would be as the commandments were, an irrefutable intimacy, from your lips to god's ears (or simply the apex of her thighs -- it's been a long time since you've been able to tell the difference).
because you know she's your saving grace, every bead on your broken rosary, cracked ivory and cinnabar dreams, her lips like sin and her body like so much wretched salvation. you would damn yourself for her. for her.
you'd shake her open, swallow down every drop of her violent grace, hollow her out till she's full of nothing but light, fashion her pleasure into angel wings so beautiful the seraphs might start to call her annabel lee. you'd kiss her into a wild messiah, mortal flesh and divine fecundity, curl your apostle fingers until neither of you can wonder if heaven is indeed just a place on earth.
it's here, in the negative space between your body and hers.
and it has always been here, hasn't it? because there's always love and your bodies have been the making. because poetry is only ever the answer to the question of do you love me?
and truth will always rhyme with your voice saying -- please, please, please.
so she answers your prayers with her mouth wide open, her athena-eyes dark as a moon-rocked sea. from here, pressed against her chest, you swear you can almost hear the angel-wing thrum in her thundering heartbeat.
"o-oh -- oh god -- kiss me --"
you anchor yourself to her with a groan, heed her words with hungering lips and a reverent tongue. you kiss her like it's the only thing you'd been put on this earth to do right, as if you'd been given these lips solely for the sake of this. of kissing her.
of kissing her bloody, and kissing her sweet.
of tracing her into more solid lines even as she shakes close to shattering.
"baby, baby -- i'm close -- fuck -- please --"
you nod, tugging back just a fraction to watch the pleasure break across her face, savoring in the splendor, in the gut-deep reckoning.
"yeah? c'mon violet -- show me -- wanna see you cum for me --"
"a-ah -- hah -- fuck -- oh fuck --"
for this, you think, you'd break the world into war. for this, you remedy, you'd paint the world into peace.
you pluck the desire from her like an unraveling thread, unspooling it in gossamer strands, picking it apart till she's undone beneath you -- in all her gold-limned glory, her bright eyes darkened by love or lust, the ridges of her body a study in perseverance -- you remind yourself to take it slow.
because sure, belief is a steady thing, but faith -- faith is running a marathon with no knowledge of the finish line, only the promise of the wind as she whispers in your ear -- just a bit more, just a bit more...
you slow your pace as vi shudders around you; reality shakes loose around your shoulders and truth becomes nothing more than a bedtime story the hungry tell their children on the nights when there's not enough food to go around the table. you gorge yourself on the sight of her, on the leavening skin of her abdomen, rising and falling with her staccato breaths, on the warmth threading from between her legs, slick and sticky as you pull your fingers away.
"holy... shit --" vi breathes, looking down at you with a half-drawn breath. the room around you shimmers in refracted bits of lucidity and memory. you smile, slipping into the space next to her, curling your body into hers, leaning into her as a supplicant to her majesty.
she smiles, reaching out to caress your cheek. you press into her touch, sating yourself on the gentility.
"god... what did i do to deserve you," she asks, her voice corded and breathy.
you blink open your eyes, uncertain of her meaning.
her, deserving of you?
you shuffle forward till your nose is pressed into the junction of her neck, till she is every breath your lungs have the dignity to breathe.
"you're everything, vi," you say, and you hope she understands. you hope she can hear the utter reverence in your voice, the debasement to which you would allow yourself to sink just to convince her of this one, singular truth.
everything.
vi laughs, reaching out to pull you close.
she grazes a kiss by your temple and you try not to whimper.
"and you're everything to me, pretty girl," she says, murmuring the words into the crease between your brows. you tug back to catch the flash of something that looks almost like that self-same adoration in the flutter of her lashes, the darkness of her eyes.
you do not think she understands; you pray she does anyways.
"c'mon doll -- time for bed," she says, chuckling as she hauls you into her chest, littering your skin with a flurry of kisses. your bodies settle against each other as the ocean might a stretch of familiar shore. as raindrops might recognize the specific mirror of the sea -- your souls tied, your breaths sighing in tandem -- ah yes, this is where i'm meant to be.
you let sleep caress you with her silken fingers, let her paint your dreams in shades of violet and blue, let moonlit-silver and midnight-sin sink into your skin. you fall asleep in violet's arms.
you do not hear her say i love you, in a voice singed with holy flames. but you do feel her kiss you. and you think, even in your dreams, that her lips have always tasted like smoke.
outta my mind | vi x fem!reader, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI) wc: 20k
synopsis: you didn’t plan on falling for anyone, let alone the painfully attractive bartender at the underground bar your friends dragged you to. she’s trouble, but she’s the kind you don’t mind getting into. | masterlist
content warnings: bartender!vi x fem!reader — modern au, bartender!vi, college student!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn ish, drinking/alcohol, flirting, mutual pining, pet names; baby, princess, sweetheart, smut!!!; top!vi, bottom!reader, semi-public sex, making out, marking/hickeys, fingering (r receiving), pls let me know if i’m missing anything else!
note: lovely request by @balinor93 ! fanart by wickestd on twitter! ( title inspo from song called outta my mind by monsune )
YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.
It was an underground pub, called the Last Drop, tucked between an alley of a street near your campus. The air inside is heavy, thick with a haze of cigarette smoke and the low hum of chatter and laughter. The brick walls are decorated with bright paintings and band posters, chipped and scratched in places, and adorned with flickering neon signs advertising cheap liquor and beers on tap. It’s dimly lit, with most of the light spilling from the bar itself—a warm glow reflecting off rows of liquor bottles stacked neatly against the back wall. The scent of stale beer and faint traces of spilled whiskey linger in the air, mingling with the beat of a bass-heavy track pulsing through the speakers.
You didn’t really plan to be here tonight.
In fact, you pictured something far less chaotic—maybe sitting cross-legged on your tiny dorm bed, your laptop open to half-hearted notes, headphones in to drown out the incessant noise of your hallmates partying down the corridor.
Finals week was looming, but somehow you found yourself here instead, caught up by a friend you weren’t too close with, Maddie, who told you to wear something cute and live a little.
You glance down at yourself, suddenly self-conscious in the outfit you hastily threw together—something a little nicer than your usual, a pretty black dress you found in your closet a jacket to battle the cold, though, it was not nearly as flashy as what your classmates seem to have pulled off effortlessly.
The slight chill in the room makes you tug at the sleeves of your jacket as you follow your group further inside, weaving through the crowd that seems to grow louder and rowdier by the minute.
Your friend is already laughing, tossing her short hair over her shoulder as she chats with someone from another group, leaving you trailing behind. They surge toward the bar, a noisy clump of university students jostling for attention from the bartender. You linger at the edge of the crowd, unsure of whether to join in or keep your distance.
Your eyes wander across the room, taking in the mismatched furniture and the way the low-hanging lights cast strange shadows over the scuffed wooden floor. It feels gritty, raw—nothing like the polished campus lounges or cafes you’re used to. People are packed into every available space, some leaning close to shout over the music, others pressed together in corners.
When you finally look toward the bar, something—or other, someone—catches your attention.
She’s pretty tall, her toned, tattooed arms flexing subtly as she works, pouring drinks expertly without even looking at her hands sometimes. Short, pink hair glows faintly under the neon lights, messy and partly shaved on the side of her head, but it was like she rolled out of bed and still managed to look better than anyone else in the room. She’s wearing a fitted black tee, tattoos peeking out along her biceps as she slides a drink across the counter to a waiting customer.
She glances up for the briefest moment, her sharp blue eyes scanning the crowd—and they land on you. Just for a second, you think, but it’s enough to make your pulse quicken.
But you look away before you could give her a chance to the way your cheeks reddened slightly, thought it would’ve been hard to see anyway underneath the dimness of the light.
You ended up in a booth in one of the corners of the room, sitting with a couple of your classmates as they drank and ate their pizza. The booth creaks slightly as you lean back, your drink—something simple and unadventurous—sitting untouched in front of you.
The group you came with has scattered across the room now to various corners of the bar, their loud laughter and shouts blending into the rest of the noise.
You’re not sure why you agreed to come tonight. Finals around the corner were stressful enough without the added distraction of cheap liquor and the kind of music that vibrates in your chest.
Across from you, someone slides into the booth with a bit too much enthusiasm, too much confidence, their knee knocking against yours under the table.
You glance up to find a man from your group—one of those classmates whose name you barely remember—flashing you a wide grin. Jason? Jacob? He had short brown hair, a white button up under his coat and smells faintly of whiskey and strong cologne, his cheeks flushed in a way that suggests he’s had a drink too many.
“Hey,” he says, his voice pitched louder than it needs to be over the music. “You’re in Professor Medarda’s class, right? Postmodern lit?”
You blink at him, already regretting this conversation.
“Yeah,” you reply, tone flat, hoping he’ll get the hint and move on.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he leans in, propping his elbow on the sticky table like he’s settling in for a long chat.
“Aren’t you the one who absolutely wrecked her in that debate? Something about, what was it—‘deconstructing the deconstruction’ or whatever?” He waves a hand vaguely, his grin turning lopsided. “Man, that was brutal. Everyone was talking about it for days.”
You press your lips into a thin line, your gaze drifting toward the bar. The bartender with the pink hair is still there, moving effortlessly behind the bar underneath the warm glow of the lights. She laughs at something one of the regulars says, the sound faint but distinct over the din, and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere but here, maybe talking to her instead of… this guy.
“Yeah, well,” you say finally, dragging your attention back to him. “It wasn’t… really a debate. I just pointed out that her entire argument was contradictory.”
Jason-or-Jacob—whatever—laughs, a little too loudly, and takes a swig of his drink.
“See, that’s what I mean! It’s… it’s impressive… And not to mention… you’re… really pretty on the eyes.” He gestures vaguely in your direction, his eyes lingering a little too long.
You shift uncomfortably as you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Uh… right, thanks.”
He chuckles again, clearly not picking up on your disinterest. “No, seriously. You’re, like, intimidating. Smart. And hot. In a good way.”
“Uh-huh.” You tap your fingers against the edge of your glass, your patience wearing thin. “Listen, if this is your way of hitting on me, you might want to workshop it… or something.”
That finally seems to trip him up, his grin faltering as he moves awkwardly in his seat. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just…”
“Right,” you cut him off, standing and grabbing your drink. “Thanks for the conversation, but I’m gonna go… anywhere else.”
You don’t bother waiting for his response as you stand and step away from the booth, weaving through the crowd.
The bar feels slightly less oppressive now that you’re moving, and as you approach the counter, you can’t help but glance toward the bartender again. She’s wiping down a glass, her movements precise, and for the second time tonight, her eyes meet yours. This time, there’s a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe—as her lips twitch into a subtle smirk.
You set your drink down on the counter, your heart skipping just a little. Maybe tonight isn’t a complete waste after all.
The stool creaks faintly as you settle onto it, the weight of the night pressing on your shoulders. You prop your elbow on the bar and glance down at your drink, still untouched. The condensation clings to the glass, cool against your fingertips as you absently trail them along its surface.
The music feels louder here, basslines thrumming through the wooden counter, but it fades into the background every time your gaze drifts upward—to her.
The bartender.
She’s been moving nonstop, hands deft and practiced as she pours drinks, slides glasses across the counter, and exchanges brief words with customers. She was confident and smooth without even trying, her short pink hair glowing faintly under the neon lights that flicker lazily behind her.
You tell yourself you’re not staring, but you are.
She’s impossibly attractive, the kind of person who seems entirely out of reach—too cool, too confident, too… everything. And yet, you catch yourself glancing her way more often than you should, trying to look away quickly enough that she doesn’t notice.
You sigh, shifting in your seat as you fiddle with your drink again, fingers tracing patterns on the glass. You haven’t taken a sip, and you’re not even sure why you ordered it. It was just something to hold, something to keep you occupied in this crowded room.
Just as you glance up again, hoping to catch another fleeting glimpse of her, a voice interrupts your thoughts.
“Hey there,” someone slurs, the words thick and clumsy.
You blink, turning to find a man standing far too close, his grin lopsided and his eyes glassy from too many drinks. His shirt is untucked, and he sways slightly as he leans an elbow on the bar, effectively blocking your view of anything else—including her.
“You’re way too pretty to be sitting here all alone,” he says, his words slurred but bold. “Let me keep you company, yeah?”
“I’m not alone,” you say flatly, holding up your glass like it’s proof. “And, I’m not interested.”
He laughs, as if you’ve said something charming. “Nah, come on. You’re too gorgeous to be hiding away in the corner. You need someone to—”
“No,” you interrupt, your tone sharp. “I’m really not interested.”
But he doesn’t take the hint. Instead, he leans in closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Don’t be like that. Just one drink, huh? I promise I’m a good time.”
You grimace, leaning back and trying to create some distance. “And I promise I’m not.”
The man chuckles, as if he thinks you’re joking, and you feel your frustration rising. You glance around, hoping someone—anyone—might intervene, and that’s when you notice her again. The bartender.
She’s been watching, her sharp eyes narrowing as she assesses the situation. Her hands pause mid-motion as she sets down a freshly poured drink, and without missing a beat, she walks over to your side of the bar.
“Hey,” she says, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
The drunk man looks up, startled, as she plants both hands on the counter, leaning slightly forward. Her gaze is steely as she stares down the man next to you.
“You bothering her?” she asks, her tone deceptively casual, though there’s a warning laced in her words.
The man blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What? No, we were just talkin’.”
“Yeah, well, she doesn’t look like she’s enjoying the conversation,” she replies smoothly. Then she turns her attention to you, her expression softening just a fraction. “You good, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. The word sends a small jolt through your chest, and for a moment, you can only shake your head, your voice caught in your throat.
The man mutters something under his breath, but the bartender doesn’t budge.
“You should go.” she says firmly. “Or I’ll have someone make you leave.”
He hesitates, but the weight of her stare is enough to make him backpedal. He stumbles away, disappearing into the crowd, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
“Thanks,” you murmur, glancing up at her.
You see her more clearly now. Light blue eyes. A strong nose. A small scar over her top lip. Another one over her eyebrow. Nose ring. And a small tattoo of the Roman numeral six on her cheek.
She straightens, brushing her hands off on a rag as a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips.
“Don’t mention it. A lot of people don’t know how to take a hint.”
You can’t help but smile faintly, your fingers still absently fiddling with your glass. “You seem good at dealing with them… They listen to you.”
“Well, there’s this rule around here that, uh, people shouldn’t really mess with the guy who pours the drinks, so… they either listen or I call Loris—our big scary bouncer.” she says with a smile, leaning against the bar now, her full attention on you.
“Do they always listen?”
The bartender smiles that charming smile of hers and simply says, “No.”
She clears her throat and looks down at your hands, then looks back up at you with an eyebrow raised.
“You gonna drink that, or is it just decoration?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” you say. Her teasing tone makes your cheeks warm. You glance down at your untouched drink, swirling the liquid idly in the glass before muttering, almost to yourself, “I don’t actually drink that often, to be honest…”
Her voice pulls you from your thoughts, warm and teasing. “A glass of water for the pretty lady, coming right up.”
Your head snaps up at the words, your cheeks instantly heating. She’s already reaching for a clean glass. But there’s something different now—something about the way she smirks just a little as she glances at you out of the corner of her eye.
“Pretty lady?” you echo, trying for casual, though you’re sure the slight waver in your voice gives you away.
She shrugs as she fills the glass with water, the ice clinking softly against the sides.
“Well, yeah,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What else would I call you?”
Your stomach flips at the nonchalant confidence in her tone, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. “I don’t know. Most people just go with my name.”
She places the water in front of you, her smile widening just enough to show off the faintest hint of dimples. “Fair enough. But I don’t know your name yet.”
You hesitate, caught between the urge to give her your name and the inexplicable nerves that come with her attention.
You tell her your name, your voice a bit quieter than you intended.
Her smirk softens into something more genuine, and she repeats your name back to you, slow and deliberate, like she’s trying it out.
“I’m Vi,” she says.
Vi. The name suits her—short, sharp, and just as bold as the woman herself.
“Thanks for the water,” you manage to say, your fingers brushing the cool glass.
“Anytime.” Vi leans her weight on her forearms, resting them on the counter as she tilts her head slightly, her eyes catching yours. “So, if you’re not much of a drinker, what brings you here?”
You can’t help but smile, a small laugh escaping you despite yourself. “My friend thought I needed a break from studying. Dragged me out here against my better judgment.”
“Ah… Those your friends over there?” She nods her head in a certain direction, and you follow it slowly.
You see the group you came with, some scattered by the bar spilling drinks and laughing loudly, others by booths making out and shouting over the music and the rest dancing on the dance floor. There are others, who are gathered by the jukebox, laughing and trying to figure out how to play something other than the heavy bass thundering through the speakers. One of them is gesturing wildly, clearly tipsy, while another leans against the wall, scrolling through their phone like they’re already over it.
You shake your head and smile, “Yeah…”
“Loud bunch.”
“Sorry ‘bout that… finals are coming up soon this month, so...”
She gives you a smile and says, “No need to apologize, princess. I serve you, remember?”
Another one. Princess. You were sure you probably as red as a tomato now.
“I barely know half of them...” you say, taking sip of your new glass of water.
“So, what’s your usual crowd then?” Vi asked, her eyes completely on you as she grabs a glass to wipe it down with a rag.
You shrugs, “Textbooks?”
“Well, that’s no good.”
“So I’ve heard,” you reply dryly, taking another small sip of the water she’d poured for you.
She chuckles again as if she finds your answer amusing in a way she doesn’t quite want to admit.
“I’m not exactly big on crowds either,” she says, leaning a little closer as if sharing a secret.
You raise an eyebrow, gesturing subtly to the packed room around you, where people are practically spilling over each other in their rush to the bar. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”
Vi follows your gaze, scanning the chaotic scene with a small smirk tugging at her lips.
“Fair point,” she concedes, looking back at you.
You glance at her again, curious despite yourself. She’s standing still now, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her gaze is on you, not in the sharp, observant way she’s probably used to watching the bar, but softer—almost like she’s lost in thought.
Her smile is faint, but it’s there, tugging gently at her lips, and it’s different from the teasing smirks you’ve seen so far. This one feels more… personal, like she’s mulling something over and doesn’t quite realize she’s staring.
Your stomach twists, her attention making you acutely aware of every small movement you make—the way your fingers nervously trace the condensation on your glass, the way you’re trying not to shift under her gaze.
Finally, you can’t help but ask, your voice a touch quieter than you intend, “What?”
Vi blinks, like you’ve pulled her out of a daydream, and her soft smile turns into something a little sheepish.
“Sorry…” she says, before licking her lips. “Just, uh, a bit distracted.”
Her eyes linger on you for a moment longer, as if she’s debating saying something else. Absentmindedly, she tries to trace every feature of your face with your eyes, trying to remember it.
She wanted to say something else—anything… But, fuck. You were really pretty… and it was distracting her. She also decided that she really liked talking to you—even though it’s barely been ten minutes.
But then, from down the counter, someone shouts her name—a regular by the sound of it, slurring slightly as he waves an empty glass in the air.
“Vi! Another round over here!”
Vi doesn’t move right away. Her head turns slightly in the direction of the call, but her attention snaps back to you almost immediately. She hesitates, not wanting to go anywhere.
She shifts her weight, one hand resting on the counter, her body angled toward you even as she glances down the bar.
“Be right there!” she calls back. It’s almost begrudging.
Your lips twitch into a small smile, watching the tiny battle play out on her face.
“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” you say lightly, though there’s something a little playful in your tone.
Her eyes dart back to yours, and she huffs out a soft laugh, her hand running through her short pink hair.
“Yeah, I know,” she smiles and mutters, almost to herself, before adding softly, almost like a plea, “Call me if you need anything?”
You nod and she smiles. You watch her go, the faint blush on your cheeks lingering as you sip at the water she poured, the ice cold and refreshing.
For the first time tonight, you’re glad your friend dragged you out.
You cant stop thinking about her.
The library is silent except for the soft rustling of pages and the faint clicking of keyboards. It’s a lot more crowded here now, especially during this time of the year, and you’ve grown not to like it. You’re hunched over a stack of textbooks, a highlighter in your hand, staring down at a paragraph you’ve already reread three times. The words swim on the page, refusing to stick, as if your brain has decided it’s reached its limit.
You let out a frustrated sigh and lean back in your chair, dragging a hand through your hair. The fluorescent lights overhead feel harsher than usual, and the quiet tension of finals week is suffocating.
But it’s not just the studying—or the endless pressure of upcoming exams—that’s been messing with your head.
It’s Vi.
You’ve tried to focus, tried to immerse yourself in everything you could but every time your mind starts to settle, her face slips back in. The way her smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. The way her pink hair caught the light behind the bar. The low, teasing lilt of her voice when she called you pretty.
You groan softly, rubbing your temples. This is ridiculous. You barely know her. You’ve spent what—maybe an hour total in her presence? And yet, she’s managed to lodge herself into your thoughts so completely that it’s becoming a problem.
The highlighter in your hand falls to the desk with a muted thud, and you drop your head into your hands, your elbows resting on the textbook in front of you. You can still see the way she looked at you—softly, like she saw something in you that others hadn’t bothered to notice.
It’s infuriating, really. You’ve got finals to prepare for, and instead, your mind is full of half-replayed conversations and fleeting glimpses of pink hair, strong arms and tattoos.
The worst part? You can’t shake the feeling that she’s thinking about you, too.
It’s irrational—you know that. She’s probably forgotten all about you by now, busy serving countless other customers, flashing that same smirk at someone else.
But a part of you, buried beneath the layers of reason and logic you cling to, whispers otherwise.
You snap out of your thoughts and glance at the open book in front of you. The words blur together again, mocking your lack of focus.
With a frustrated exhale, you push the textbook aside and pull out your phone, the screen lighting up in your hand. You scroll aimlessly for a moment, debating whether you’re actually considering what your restless thoughts are urging you to do.
Should you go back? Would she even remember you?
You shake your head, trying to will away the temptation.
Finals. Study. Focus.
You tap your pen against your notebook, each click bouncing off the walls of the crowded library. It’s packed to the brim, filled with students just as desperate as you to cram as much information into their heads as possible before finals. Yet, instead of feeling motivated, all you can focus on is the cacophony—the whispered conversations that aren’t really whispers, the shuffling of papers, the faint tapping of keyboards, the occasional obnoxious laugh breaking the tension.
Your head throbs.
With a sharp sigh, you drop the pen onto the desk and lean back in your chair again, staring blankly at the high ceiling. You’ve been sitting here for hours, yet the number of notes you’ve managed to take is embarrassingly low. Nothing is sticking. You can’t focus.
It doesn’t help that your thoughts keep drifting to her.
To Vi.
You shake your head as if it’ll clear the image, but it doesn’t.
The noise of the library swells again, louder this time—a group of students a few tables down bursts into laughter, drawing glares from everyone around them. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help.
The dorm wasn’t any better. Earlier, when you’d tried to study there, the walls practically vibrated with the bass of someone’s speaker. The hallway had been filled with voices, laughter, and the unmistakable sound of another dorm party kicking off despite the looming threat of finals.
You’d lasted maybe twenty minutes before storming out, bag slung over your shoulder, hoping the library would be better.
It wasn’t.
You sit there for a moment, staring down at your open textbook and the mess of half-finished notes in front of you. The sheer impossibility of getting anything done right now feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.
Screw this.
You grab your things in one swift motion, shoving your notebook and pens into your bag with more force than necessary. The chair scrapes loudly against the floor as you stand, drawing a few annoyed glances your way. You ignore them, slinging your bad over your shoulder and walking out of the library without so much as a glance back.
The cold evening air hits you the second you step outside, sharp and bracing, but you welcome it.
You pause at the edge of the path, staring out at the quiet campus bathed in the glow of dim streetlights. You should go back to your dorm, try again, push through the noise.
But the very thought of that makes your stomach twist.
Instead, your feet carry you forward, down the path and out toward the street. You don’t have a destination in mind, but you already know where you’ll end up.
It’s not a conscious decision—it never is, really. You tell yourself you just need a break, some fresh air to clear your head. But the truth hums beneath the surface, undeniable.
You want to see her.
When your feet finally stop, the bar looms in front of you, the soft glow of its neon sign illuminating the damp pavement below. The night air is cool against your skin, a faint breeze carrying the quiet hum of traffic and chatter.
Your hands are shoved deep into the pockets of your jacket, fingers curling into the fabric as you linger just outside the door. You glance at your reflection in the window—a hoodie that hangs a little loose on your frame, jeans you’ve had for years, and shoes slightly scuffed from the walk here.
You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you’d thought to stop by your dorm first. Maybe throw on something a little prettier. But instead, your feet had brought you straight here, as if they knew something you didn’t.
It’s almost 9 p.m., and the bar looks alive even from the outside. You can always hear the faint hum of music seeping through the walls.
You hesitate. What are you even doing here? It’s not like you have a good excuse—no friends dragging you along this time, no group to blend into. You’re alone, standing in front of a bar where you might not even be remembered.
But the thought of her pulls at you, stronger than the nerves keeping your feet planted. You’d tried to shake her from your thoughts all week, telling yourself she was just a random bartender, someone you’d probably never see again. But it hadn’t worked. Every time you sat down to study, her face would slip into your mind.
Your chest tightens as you reach for the door, your hand hovering over the handle. What if she doesn’t remember you? Or worse—what if she does, and she thinks it’s weird that you’ve come back?
You shake your head, trying to push the doubts aside. You’re here now. You might as well step inside.
With a deep breath, you pull the door open and step into the warm, dimly lit space. The scent of alcohol and faint traces of perfume hit you first.
The bar is slightly less crowded than it had been the last time, but it still carries the same energy—low lights, muted colors, and a buzz of life that makes the air feel heavier than the world outside.
You glance toward the bar, your stomach twisting when you see her. Vi is behind the counter, her pink hair catching the soft light as she leans over to pass a drink to a customer. She straightens, her expression neutral as she scans the room, and then her eyes land on you.
For a split second, her face doesn’t change, and panic spikes in your chest. Maybe she doesn’t—
Then she smiles.
It’s subtle, but it’s there—a small, warm quirk of her lips that sends your nerves scattering in a hundred directions. She holds your gaze for just a moment before returning to what she’s doing, her hands moving fluidly to pour another drink.
You let out a shaky breath, your feet carrying you closer to the bar. You slide into one of the empty stools, trying to shake off the nervous energy buzzing under your skin. The cool wood of the counter feels solid beneath your palms as you rest your elbows on it, trying to make yourself look casual.
But it’s hard to relax with your pulse pounding so loudly in your ears. You glance around the room, looking for anything to distract you from the fact that she’s here.
You’re trying not to fidget with your fingers, not to bite the inside of your lip, not to seem like you’ve been thinking about this moment for days now—trying to shake the nerves that have settled into your bones. But it’s hard when you feel her presence just behind the bar.
It doesn’t take long before you feel her eyes on you.
You glance up just in time to see Vi, mid-conversation with another customer, glance over the counter at you. And in a split second, she’s finished what she’s saying to the customer, brushing past them with an ease.
She doesn’t even seem bothered by the fact that she’s walking away mid-conversation. It’s as if she’s already decided where she needs to be.
Your pulse quickens.
You watch her approach, the way she moves is confident, the soft hum of the music surrounding her as she gets closer. Her smile is almost shy this time, like she’s not entirely sure what to say after the last time you were here. But she doesn’t hesitate.
“I was wondering when I’d see you again,” she says as soon as she reaches you, her voice low, almost teasing, with just a hint of something more.
Her words catch you off guard for a second. You shift slightly on your stool, trying to keep your cool, but you can feel the heat creeping up your neck. Her gaze is steady, not flirtatious exactly, but certainly interested, like she’s been waiting for this moment as much as you have.
You clear your throat, and even though you try to sound casual, your voice betrays you.
“I didn’t really expect to be back so soon.” The words feel like a weak excuse even as you say them.
Vi chuckles softly, leaning just a little closer as she rests her hands on the counter, her gaze never leaving you. “Not really the type to stay away for long, huh?”
There’s that spark in her eyes again, that teasing warmth that makes you wonder if she’s deliberately making you squirm.
You roll your eyes, trying to hide the nervous flutter in your chest.
“I needed a break,” you explain quickly, looking away for a moment. “Studying was driving me crazy.”
You pull your bag closer to the bar, pretending to straighten it out, but your thoughts keep slipping back to her.
Vi’s smile softens a little as she studies you, her eyes tracing your face for a moment longer than necessary. She doesn’t seem in a rush, doesn’t try to fill the space with empty words or awkward small talk.
You swallow, suddenly aware of how much closer she’s gotten, how much she’s drawn you in. There’s an easy chemistry between you, something unspoken but undeniable.
“Well,” she adds, a teasing glint in her eye as she straightens back up, “What’s your drink of choice, princess?”
You almost forget how to breathe for a second at the sudden shift in the atmosphere, your heart racing again. You take a moment to collect yourself before replying, your voice just a little quieter than usual.
“Surprise me,” you say, the words coming out with a confidence you don’t entirely feel.
Vi’s smile deepens, her eyes flashing with something a little mischievous, “Think I can manage that.”
She decides on making something light and sweet—remembering that you didn’t drink that often.
You watch her as she begins to gather the ingredients for your drink, her hands moving expertly behind the bar. The soft clink of glass bottles and the gentle hiss of the tap. You barely even realize you’re fidgeting until you catch sight of her looking back at you, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Finals week started?” She asks.
You blink, momentarily caught off guard by the question. The thought of finals feels like a weight you’ve been trying to avoid all week. The textbooks, the endless hours of studying, the fact that you’re still not feeling ready for any of it—it all hits you again in that instant. But Vi’s gaze makes it hard to focus on anything else.
For a split second, you can feel it too—the awkwardness, the nerves, the slight flutter in your chest that feels completely out of place. It’s not just her usual flirtation. This feels different somehow. She’s not the smooth bartender effortlessly working the crowd, she’s… her. And it makes your heart skip in a way you’re trying to ignore.
“Yeah, it did,” you answer, your voice quieter than you intended. You rub the back of your neck, feeling a little out of place yourself. “It’s… been a nightmare. The library’s packed, the dorm’s loud—honestly, it’s like no one even remembers that we have to actually study for this stuff.”
She raises an eyebrow, her smile never quite fading but now tinged with something a little more… uncertain. Her gaze flits between you and the drinks in front of her, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s just waiting for something to happen.
“Seems like you’re trying to avoid it,” she says softly, her tone lighter but still holding that underlying curiosity. Her voice is almost shy now, like she’s letting down the tough-girl act just a little, and it feels natural. She looks at you again, this time a little less playful and more vulnerable.
You feel something stir inside of you at her words—maybe relief, maybe the sense that she’s giving you a little window into her own world.
“Yeah, kind of,” you admit, your gaze dropping to the counter as you fiddle with the edge of your glass. You take a breath, glancing back up at her, your tone playful but also a little softer than you meant.
She’s leaning slightly over the counter, her eyes scanning the room for a moment, as though looking for your friends. When she doesn’t find them, her gaze returns to you, a small quirk of her lips tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Here alone tonight?” she asks, her tone light and soft.
You feel a small flutter in your chest, a hint of nervousness bubbling up—was she genuinely interested?
“Yeah,” you say, a little unsure, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass. “My friends are… off somewhere else.”
Vi nods slowly, that small smile still playing on her lips, and for a second, you almost feel like she’s understanding you without needing you to say much at all. She’s always been so good at reading people, it seems.
“Well, lucky for you,” she says with a wink, her tone playful but sincere, “I’m here to keep you company, then. No need to be alone if you don’t want to be.”
She leans a little closer, her voice dropping just low enough that only you can hear.
“Not that I mind the company, either.”
Her words settle in your chest, warm and easy, and for a brief moment, it feels like everything else—the noise, the people, the pressure of exams—falls away. All that’s left is the gentle pull of her attention, the way she makes you feel like you’re the only one she wants to talk to tonight.
You can’t help but smile, your nerves starting to ease.
“I like that you’re here,” you say, a little quieter now, the honesty behind your words surprising even you.
Oh.
Vi swallows the tiny lump in her throat, ears reddening at your words.
“Me too,” she says softly, her eyes meeting yours.
And then the night stretches on, the sound of clinking glasses and lively chatter filling the air, but somehow, the noise feels distant.
Vi moves between you and the rest of the bar, always managing to return to you just as you start to think she’s too busy to notice. She steps away occasionally to serve drinks, her smile never fading even when the pressure of the crowd pulls her in different directions.
Every time she returns, though, she looks at you with that same look in her eye, making you feel like you’re the only person in the room who matters. You can tell that she’s working, but there’s an ease in the way she glances over at you, as though she’s intentionally carving out space to keep you company, to make sure you’re not left alone in the bustle of the bar.
As the crowd grows louder and the night wears on, Vi seems to sense that things are getting a little out of hand. The rush of orders starts picking up, and she glances over at Mylo, a colleague of hers you’ve seen around. With a quick wave, she calls him over.
You watch as Vi leans against the bar, her body language shifting just slightly.
“Hey, Mylo, could you cover the drinks for a bit?” she asked, her tone casual, but there’s something unspoken in the way she does it. Mylo gives her a knowing glance, then nods and steps in to take over, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
Vi doesn’t waste any time.
For the rest of the night, she stays close, always coming back to check on you between serving drinks, leaning against the bar whenever she has a spare moment. Mylo helps manage the crowd, but Vi is there, always making sure you’re okay, always drawing you back into the conversation.
There’s no rush, no pressure—just an easy flow between you two, and the more time you spend with her, the next time her eyes meet yours, the way she smiled, the more you realize that this is something you’ve been craving without even knowing it.
The night slips away quietly, and when you glance at the clock on the wall behind the bar, a wave of disappointment hits you.
It’s later than you thought. You hesitate for a moment, your fingers brushing the edge of your empty glass, and then you finally say it, though it’s not what you want to say at all.
“I should, uh… get going,” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intended. You already know you’ll regret it—regret leaving this place, leaving her.
Vi’s smile falters just a little, her eyes quickly flicking to the clock too, and you see the shift on her face, like she’s come to the same realization. There’s a brief, almost imperceptible pause between the two of you as the world around you continues on, but time seems to slow as she takes a breath.
“I… didn’t realize it was that late either,” she says, her tone softer now. And for a brief second, you can almost feel the space between you close in, like neither of you really wants to say goodbye.
Then, without skipping a beat, Vi’s voice pulls you back into the present.
“Hey,” she starts firmly, like she’s made up her mind about something. “Let me walk you back.”
You blink at her, the suggestion catching you off guard. You hadn’t expected her to offer—hadn’t thought she’d even consider it. And though a little part of you wants to say yes immediately, another part of you, the shyer, more self-conscious part, hesitates.
“I don’t want to put you out,” you say quickly, though you’re not entirely sure why you feel so shy all of a sudden. “Besides, you’re working.”
It’s a simple thing, after all, a walk.
But you’d be even more alone. With her. And although that made you excited, it made you even more nervous.
Vi doesn’t give you the chance to second-guess yourself. Her smile returns, and there’s a spark of something playful in her eyes.
“It’s no trouble,” she says, her tone light but insistent. “I’m not going to let you walk back alone at this time. I don’t think I’d be able to focus without knowing you got home safe, so...”
Before you can protest again, she turns to Mylo, who’s tending to the growing crowd at the far end of the bar.
“Hey, Mylo!” she calls out, her voice carrying just enough over the noise to catch his attention. “I’m taking my break now. Be back in a bit.”
Mylo doesn’t even look up from his work, just nods in acknowledgment. “Alright, Vi,” he calls back, and you catch the playful undertone in his voice. It’s clear he knows exactly what’s going on.
Not wasting any more time, Vi grabs her jacket from behind the bar. She slips it on ace doesn’t look back at you to see if you’re ready; she just turns, giving you that soft, inviting smile.
“C’mon,” she says, her voice low and gentle, like she’s pulling you into something that feels a little outside of the ordinary, but in the best way possible.
Her words make you pause, but only for a moment. You look at her—really look at her—and something about the way she’s standing there, waiting, makes your hesitation dissolve. The warmth in her smile settles in your chest, and for the first time in a while, you realize you don’t mind the idea of the night stretching out just a little longer.
You nod, a soft smile curling at your lips.
“Okay,” you say, your voice more confident than it was a second ago.
Vi grins.
Without another word, she starts walking toward the door, holding it open for you, and you follow her out into the cold night air. The city seems quieter now, the streets not as busy, and as the two of you step into the night, the world feels a little smaller, a little more intimate—just the two of you, alone together for the walk.
You can’t help but feel your heart race just a little, but in the best possible way.
The walk to your dorm is slower than you expect, almost as if neither of you wants to rush through it. The night air is cold, the streetlights casting soft pools of light on the sidewalk. The hum of distant traffic fades into the background as you walk side by side, your pace matching each other’s, no one in a hurry.
You’re not sure what it is, but something about the silence between you feels comfortable—like there’s no pressure, just two people walking together. Vi’s steps are easy, casual, but every so often, she glances at you from the corner of her eye, as though she’s watching you without even realizing it. It’s subtle, but you catch her gaze a few times, and each time, she looks away just a fraction too late, as if she was lost in thought.
You can’t help but notice it, how her eyes linger on you, how her attention feels a little more intense than you’re used to, but it’s not uncomfortable. No, it’s the opposite, actually—it feels like she’s admiring something in you, and the idea makes your stomach flutter in a way you can’t quite explain.
Vi keeps most of the conversation light at first, teasing you about how you managed to get through the day without completely falling apart under the weight of finals. But soon enough, the banter turns into something more genuine, more personal, and you find yourself sharing little details about your life.
Vi, on the other hand, seems to enjoy telling you bits and pieces about herself. She talks about the things she’s passionate about—how bartending isn’t just a job for her, but something that gives her a connection to people and to her dad especially, how she loves the way a good drink can change someone’s mood, make them feel more at ease. She tells you about her favorite spots in the city, the places she goes when she wants to unwind or just take a break from the noise.
She mentions that she has a little sister—one that she’s so proud of with how smart she is. She has a scholarship at some other university a pretty far from here, and you can tell Vi misses her dearly.
For the entire way, Vi doesn’t stop glancing at you.
It’s soft and subtle, but you can see it, feel it—the way her eyes linger on you, tracing the lines of your face in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out.
And for the first time in a while, you don’t mind being the center of someone’s attention. You can’t help but wonder if, in some small way, she feels the same as you.
“So, your dorm’s just up ahead, right?” Vi says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Her voice is low, and there’s a hint of something soft in it. You realize, in that moment, that this walk has felt… different.
“Yeah, just a couple more blocks,” you reply, your voice a little quieter now, feeling like the night has already given you more than you expected.
Eventually, the two of you reach the entrance of your building. It was an apartment style dorm, sitting just a few miles away from campus.
You stop for a moment, your feet lingering on the sidewalk as you take a small breath, suddenly feeling reluctant.
You don’t want it to end—not just yet.
But before you can say anything, the loud thump of music reaches your ears, coming from one of the floors above. Vi’s eyes flick up toward the building, and her brow furrows slightly as she notices the source of the noise.
“Guess the party’s already in full swing,” she murmurs, a bit of a wry smile tugging at her lips, but there’s something in her tone that’s a little amused.
“Yeah. The usual,” you say, your voice tinged with mild exasperation. You chuckle softly, rubbing the back of your neck, feeling a little embarrassed. “They don’t really care if it’s late… It can be quiet sometimes… but on rare occasions.”
Vi glances up at the building, the loud music still spilling out from one of the floors. She hesitates for a moment, then looks back at you.
“You know, uh, the bar doesn’t… open until six… I mean, the lounge opens at ten, but… no one really comes around that time,” she says, her voice quieter now, as if the suggestion she’s about to make is somehow more personal.
She glances at you again, her eyes flickering with tiny hint of nervousness.
“You could, uh, come earlier if you want some quiet… I’ll be there.”
You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t expected her to offer her own space at all. The bar, of all places.
You feel a warmth spread through you at the thought, a pull you hadn’t expected. Something about it makes your heart race a little faster, and you find yourself hesitating, uncertain if you should take the leap.
It was kind of a lousy excuse, Vi thought, but at least she’d get to see you again, instead of waiting all week to see if you’d stop by.
Though she knew she probably should’ve just asked you out on a date like a normal person, but… maybe she’d be able to see more of you this way.
“Vi, I—” you start, but you don’t really know what to say.
“You don’t have to,” she adds quickly, her voice gentle, as if she’s afraid to push too hard. “But if you’re looking for a place to study, it’s quiet in the mornings. And I promise not to be in your way. You don’t have to stay long or anything—just… if you want to, I’m there. And we could talk more, or just… not.”
The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard, and you feel a small tug at your chest.
You glance at her, meeting her eyes for just a moment, and that’s all it takes. Despite the swirl of thoughts in your head, you find yourself nodding.
“Okay,” you say, your voice steady now, though there’s a trace of something soft beneath it. “I’d really like that.”
You watch as her smile brightens, a little relieved and a little pleased, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything, she just nods.
Vi pauses just as she’s about to turn away, a hesitant look crossing her face. For a moment, she seems to be second-guessing herself, like she’s trying to figure out the best way to say something without overstepping. Then, with a slight sheepishness that’s almost endearing, she glances back at you, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly.
“Oh, shit, I-I should probably give you my number… you know, in case I’m not there or anything,” she says, her voice a little softer, a little more self-conscious than usual. Her fingers nervously tug at the hem of her jacket, and her eyes flicker away briefly.
You can’t help but smile at the way she’s acting—this confident, capable bartender who, just moments ago, had been so cool and smooth, now hesitating as if she’s unsure whether she’s overstepping by asking for your number.
You reach for your phone, feeling a small rush of warmth in your chest.
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” you say, your voice light but warm, trying to make her feel at ease.
You quickly unlock your phone and pass it to her, offering a small, reassuring smile.
Vi’s fingers brush against yours as she takes your phone, and for a second, the touch lingers. She types in her number quickly, and you catch the faintest flicker of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. She hands the phone back to you after saving her contact information and you glance down at the screen.
violet :)
“Done,” she says, her voice light again. “Just… in case you need to reach me or anything…”
Vi pulls out her phone, her fingers slightly fumbling as she unlocks it. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and she gives you a small, almost nervous smile. You type your number into her phone in return, and when you hand it back, you make sure your fingers brush against hers just a little longer than necessary. She smiles softly when she gets her phone back, seeing the small heart you put next to your name.
“Thank you, Vi,” you say softly, feeling a little bolder now.
She grins, the playful glint in her eyes back now, “Text me… whenever.”
She lingers, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, the edges of her smile bright but just a little tight, like she’s holding something back. Her eyes meet yours, warm and soft, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.
You notice the way her gaze flickers, almost imperceptibly, down to your lips. It’s quick, barely a second, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Your heart thuds in your chest, and you wonder if she realizes how obvious she is—or maybe she doesn’t care. Either way, her attention makes your stomach flip in a way you’re not entirely prepared for.
“I should…” she begins, her voice quiet and almost reluctant. She shifts on her feet, looking down for a moment before glancing back up at you. She hesitates, like she’s searching for a reason to stay, even though she knows she can’t. “…get back to work.”
Her words are practical, but the way she says them—soft and almost regretful—makes it clear she doesn’t really want to leave.
She’s stalling, and you can tell.
For once, Vi doesn’t have that confidence she carries behind the bar. Right now, she just looks… a little unsure. A little vulnerable.
“Goodnight,” you say softly, the words gentle but carrying more weight than you intended.
Her smile widens, though it’s still tight-lipped, and she nods, her hands still buried in her jacket pockets.
“Yeah… goodnight, princess,” she echoes, her voice just above a whisper. She lingers for another second, her gaze sweeping over your face before she finally steps back.
The sound of her boots on the pavement fades as she turns and walks away, heading back down the street toward the bar.
As she disappears into the distance, you catch yourself glancing at your phone, her number now saved there, and you wonder how long you’ll be able to resist texting her. The night air feels colder without her, but the warmth she left behind lingers all the same.
Truth be told, Vi isn’t usually the one to open the bar.
That’s Mylo’s job, and it’s been that way for as long as she can remember. Surprisingly, he’s the early bird, arriving just maybe thirty before ten—always grumbling about it but showing up on time regardless, keys jangling as he flips on the lights and starts the long process of getting the place ready. It’s quiet in the morning, and it’s practically empty until the sun starts to set.
Vi’s shift doesn’t typically start until later in the evening, right when the crowd begins to build, when the air gets thick with chatter and the clink of glass. That’s her time, where she thrives: loud music, fast drinks, and tiny bit of chaos.
But as soon as Vi gets back to work that night after walking you to you back, something shifts. She heads straight behind the bar, sets her jacket down with a quickly, and finds Mylo leaning against the counter, lazily wiping down the counter like he always does. He glances up at her, one brow quirked, clearly ready to make some smart comment about her lateness and tease her about that little crush she has on you.
But before he can get a word out, she cuts him off.
“I’m opening from now on,” she says flatly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Mylo freezes mid-motion, the rag in his hand hovering over the counter. He stares at her for a moment, like he’s not sure he heard her right.
“What?” he says finally, his tone incredulous. “Since when do you wanna deal with the morning grind? You hate opening.”
“Since now,” Vi snaps, her tone sharp like she’s already decided and doesn’t care for an explanation.
Mylo narrows his eyes, leaning against the bar with a skeptical look. “You’re serious? You, of all people, wanna deal with the dead hours?”
“Yeah,” Vi says simply, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and beginning to organize the counter with quick, efficient movements. “It’s not a big deal.”
Mylo snorts, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “It is for you. You hate the quiet. You told me that yourself. Even Claggor hates the quiet.”
Vi doesn’t answer right away.
She busies herself adjusting the liquor bottles, her back turned to him as she forces herself not to think about why she’s doing this—or more accurately, who she’s doing this for. But her thoughts betray her anyway, drifting back to the way you’d looked at her tonight, soft and unsure but trusting, the way you’d smiled at her when she offered you the bar as a place to get away. The memory makes something tighten in her chest.
She finally turns back to Mylo, her face composed, her tone even.
“Just need a change of pace,” she says with a shrug, though even she knows it’s not convincing. “Besides, you could use the extra sleep.”
Mylo stares at her for another beat and squints his eyes, clearly unconvinced but too tired to argue.
“Is this about that girl you were talking with earlier?”
“No,” Vi said all too quickly, but she knows she couldn’t keep up the lie against Mylo for too long. “Maybe… Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just ask her out? Looked like she liked you enough. Plus—she literally came back to see you—“
“Just—Let me have this. If it goes sour, you can have all the free drinks you want.”
“Fine,” he says, throwing his hands up in defeat. “It’s your funeral. Just don’t come crying to me when you’re stuck listening to the same three jazz songs we have on Vander’s old jukebox.”
Vi smirks, but it’s faint, her mind already elsewhere. “Noted.”
The truth is, she doesn’t care about the mornings or the hassle of opening. All she cares about is the chance that you might show up again, walking into the bar in the early hours, looking for a place to escape the noise.
And if that means opening the doors herself, sitting in silence for a couple hours, and putting up with Mylo’s grumbling, so be it.
She doesn’t tell him any of this, though. She just gets back to work, excited for the next time she might see you.
The sunlight filters in through the thin curtains of your dorm room, soft and golden, warming your skin as you slowly wake. Your eyes blink open, the haze of sleep still clinging to you, and for a moment, you simply lie there, staring up at the ceiling.
Then, your mind drifts back to the night before.
Vi… again.
The thought of her hits you like a spark, and you feel a smile tug at your lips before you can stop it. Your chest tightens slightly, but not unpleasantly, just enough to make you feel warm all over.
Still smiling, you roll onto your side, glancing at your phone on the nightstand. The thought of texting her had crossed your mind the second you got back to your room last night, but you hadn’t been sure if you should. What would you even say?
Now, as the morning stretches ahead of you, you find yourself staring at your phone again, the nervous energy in your chest making it hard to breathe.
You pick it up, the screen lighting up instantly. And there it is.
A small notification sits at the top of your screen.
“1 new message from violet :)”
Your heart jumps, and your thumb hovers over the notification for just a second before you tap it, unable to wait any longer. The message opens, and your breath catches when you see it.
not to brag, but it’s very quiet this morning. open invitation ;)
Attached is a picture of the bar. The room is empty, save for the neat rows of chairs and the warm light spilling in from the windows. The space looks so different from the lively, chaotic energy you’d seen before—calm, inviting, almost serene. But what catches your eye most is the subtle detail in the photo: her black jacket draped over the back of one of the chairs in the corner, and a mug sitting on the counter.
She’s there, waiting.
Your heart does a little flip, and you bite your lip, staring at the message. The cheeky little smirk emoji at the end feels so quintessentially Vi, and you can almost hear the teasing lilt in her voice as you read the words again.
You’re not sure how long you sit there, staring at your phone, trying to decide how to respond. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, typing and deleting messages you’re too nervous to send. Finally, you settle on something simple, something safe.
all that space for me?
You hit send before you can overthink it, your chest fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves. Almost immediately, the little bubble indicating she’s typing pops up, and your stomach flips again.
you get special treatment, what can i say?
Her reply comes with another photo—this time, a close-up of her coffee mug on the counter, a little steam curling up from the top. In the background, you can see her hand resting on the bar, the edge of a tattoo peeking out from her wrist. It’s casual, but the fact that she took the time to send it makes your cheeks flush.
You can’t help but smile again, your heart racing as you stare at the screen. The morning, which had started so quietly, now feels electric, buzzing with the possibility of seeing her again. And as you type out your next reply, you can’t help but wonder where this might lead—and how you’ve somehow stumbled into something that already feels so much more than you expected.
You barely even remember the process of getting ready.
It was all a blur of rushing to find something cute, definitely cuter than the night before yet comfortable, sifting through your limited wardrobe for something that felt right. Even though the chill of winter was biting at the edges of the morning, you chose an outfit—layered up enough to keep warm, but nice enough to make you feel put together. You’d even spent a little more time on your hair, fixing it neatly just for Vi to see.
Now, standing in front of the bar, the nerves hit you all at once.
The quiet street around you makes the moment feel even more amplified. You glance at the entrance, the black-painted door that suddenly feels much taller, more imposing, than it had before. Your heart is pounding in your chest, the bag full of textbooks and notes hanging heavy at your side, reminding you of the excuse you gave yourself for coming here.
It’s just a quiet place to study, you tell yourself for the hundredth time, though you know it’s only half the truth.
The other half is much more difficult to admit—that you’re here for her. That something about Vi has been stuck in your head ever since she walked you home, her warm, smooth voice, the way her blue eyes lingered on you. She made your entire body flutter and you can’t help but want more of it.
You take a deep breath, clutching the strap of your bag tightly, and push the door open. The soft chime of the bell above the frame jingles lightly, and you step inside, immediately greeted by the sound of soft jazz playing in the background. The bar looks just like it had in the photo—empty, calm, and warm, bathed in the golden glow of lights reflecting off the polished surfaces.
Your eyes scan the room, and there she is.
Vi stands behind the bar, her jacket from earlier now draped over a nearby stool. She’s pouring herself a cup of coffee, her back to you at first, but as the door closes behind you, she glances over her shoulder. The moment she sees you, her face lights up with that easy smile, the one that makes your chest flutter in ways you’re not quite ready to deal with.
“Look who it is,” she says, setting her mug down and leaning casually against the counter. She folds her arms across her chest, giving you an appraising look. “Was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”
You step forward, trying to steady your breathing as you approach the bar. “Well,” you say, your voice soft but steady, “that picture you sent was pretty convincing. Had to check it out for myself.”
Vi’s smile widens, and she gestures to the empty space around you. “Guess you came to the right place, huh? It doesn’t get much quieter than this.”
You nod, trying not to fidget as you sling your bag onto one of the stools. “Yeah. Plus, you did say I’d get special treatment.”
Vi chuckles at that, her voice low and warm, “I did, didn’t I?”
She leans forward slightly, resting her elbows on the counter as she watches you unpack a few of your books.
“Something like that,” you mumble, flipping open a notebook and trying not to let her attention distract you too much. It’s easier said than done, though, especially when you feel her eyes on you, warm and curious, like she’s genuinely interested in every little thing you do.
Vi gestures toward your bag with a playful grin. “Didn’t know you’d bring your entire library with you.”
“It’s called being prepared.”
She smirks at that, but as you settle into your work, she finds herself falling quiet. Her gaze lingers on you as she leans back slightly, folding her arms.
“Go ahead and start. I’ll be here if you need anything,” she says kindly, a smile on her face that made your stomach flutter.
You thank her with a smile and a nod and the only thing Vi can think about is how cute you are.
In just a couple of minutes, you’ve focused up, skimming through a page of dense text, your brow furrowed in concentration, and Vi can’t help but notice the way your nose scrunches just a little when you hit something particularly complicated.
It’s… endearing.
She doesn’t mean to stare. Really, she doesn’t.
The jazz music playing softly in the background seems to fade into white noise as Vi lets herself get lost in the little details of you. The slope of your shoulders, the way your hair falls to the side when you tilt your head, the faint flush in your cheeks that she wonders—hopes—might have something to do with her.
She doesn’t even realize she’s staring until Mylo’s voice echoes in her head: You’re being so obvious, Vi.
She clears her throat, tearing her gaze away and reaching for the coffee mug she’d left on the counter. As she takes a sip, she glances back at you, this time trying to keep her interest a little more subtle.
You catch her staring just as you look up from your book, your eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. Vi freezes, caught, and you tilt your head slightly, raising an eyebrow.
“What?”
She blinks, quickly shaking her head and giving you a grin that’s a little too casual.
“Nothing,” she says, her tone light, though her ears flush faintly.
Then she looks down at her mug, then back up at you. She watches you as you shyly turned away, trying to mask the way your cheeks reddened under her stare. With a soft chuckle under her breath, she moves towards the edge of the bar, finally deciding to make you a cup of coffee.
She moves quietly as she works the espresso machine. The bar is silent except for the faint hum of the machine, the relaxing jazz playing in the background, and the occasional sound of you turning your pages, but her focus isn’t entirely on what she’s doing.
Instead, it keeps drifting to you. Sitting there, head bowed over your notes, and Vi can’t help but notice how different you look today compared to the last time she saw you.
You’re dressed a little nicer today—nothing too flashy, just enough that she can tell you put some thought into it. She likes it. She really likes it.
Maybe it’s the way your sweater hugs your frame a little more snugly, or how your jeans look perfectly paired with your boots. Or maybe it’s just the fact that everything about you feels intentional, like you dressed up… just for her.
Either way, it’s distracting her in the best way possible. She shakes her head slightly, trying to focus on the task at hand, but the thought keeps nudging its way back in: So pretty.
She glances at you as she pours the espresso shot into the cup, the deep brown liquid swirling into the mug. You’re chewing on the cap of a pen, your brow furrowed in concentration, and Vi feels a faint, involuntary smile tug at the corners of her mouth.
She watches closely. Too closely. She watches your lips shamelessly, wrapping your lips around the cylinder shape, biting softly on that pen, and… god, you’re just… something else.
Vi shakes her head and tries to throw the thought out of the window. It’s far too early to be thinking about you like… that.
The hot water follows, and before she knows it, the americano is ready. She sets it on the counter softly, barely making a sound, and steps back to admire her handiwork—not the coffee, but you. And maybe she’d never admit it out loud, but she could probably watch you for hours.
When you finally notice the mug in front of you, you blink up at her with a smile, a little startled.
Vi shrugs, leaning one elbow on the counter, her grin casual but her gaze lingering. “Coffee. Figured you could use it.”
Your lips quirk up slightly at her teasing, but there’s something shy in the way you glance down at the mug, your fingers brushing the edge of it.
“Thank you,” you mumble shyly, almost under your breath.
“No problem, princess.” Vi leans back, her hands sliding into her pockets as she studies you for a moment longer. You’re even prettier up close, she thinks.
After a couple minutes, Vi busies herself cleaning the counter, though her eyes flick back to you more often than she means them to. There’s something about you today that feels different… And if she’s being honest with herself, it’s driving her a little crazy—in a good way.
When Vi had her back turned for a moment, adjusting the bottles on the shelf behind the bar, it was your turn to take the opportunity.
Your eyes wandered before you could stop yourself, taking her in as she worked. She moved smoothly, easy, like she’d done this a thousand times before—and maybe she had—but it didn’t make the sight any less captivating.
You’d been trying to focus on your notes, scribbling little reminders in the margins or flipping pages as if you were actually absorbing the words.
But who were you kidding? You couldn’t concentrate. Not when Vi was right there.
Your gaze lingered on her arms first, toned and inked, muscles flexing just enough with every movement. The way she reached up to straighten a bottle, her fingers long and strong, made your thoughts blur and stutter.
And then there was her profile—the sharp angle of her jawline, the way her asymmetrical lips curved faintly even when she wasn’t smiling. That tiny quirk, one side of her top lip arched slightly higher than the other, was unfairly charming. It made her look like she was always on the edge of smirking, always holding back some witty comment.
When she turned slightly, moving to wipe down the counter again, you quickly dropped your eyes back to your notebook, pretending to read a passage you hadn’t actually taken in.
But the distraction didn’t last long. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her pick up a glass, her hands moving over it in smooth, practiced motions as she polished it to perfection. Her forearms flexed again just slightly, and you caught yourself staring again, your thoughts hazy and full of her.
Every time you looked up, there was something new to notice—the way her brows furrowed just a little when she was focused, the way her tattoos seemed to tell a story you desperately wanted to know. You liked the way her hair fell just a little out of place when she leaned forward, the way her shirt clung to her broad shoulders and the defined curve of her biceps.
You liked the way she moved, so sure of herself yet entirely unaware of just how mesmerizing she was to watch.
It was distracting, sure, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. If anything, you welcomed it.
It didn’t take long for the mornings at the bar to become your new routine.
Vi would open promptly at ten in the morning, and you’d stroll in not long after, bundled up in a jacket, a bag full of textbooks and notebooks slung over your shoulder. She’d always greet you with that soft, lopsided smile of hers, already moving to make you coffee before you even asked.
“Morning, princess,” she’d say, setting the mug in front of you with a little flourish, and you’d roll your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips every time.
You’d settle into your usual spot, unpack your books, and get to work while Vi busied herself behind the counter.
She was always within view, her quiet presence oddly comforting as you flipped through pages and scribbled notes. And she didn’t hover, not exactly, but you knew she kept an eye on you. She’d pause her cleaning or organizing to glance over, catching little glimpses of your concentrated frown or the way you tucked your hair behind your ear absentmindedly.
For you, the quiet space was perfect, and Vi’s company made it even better.
You studied through the morning, your head bent over your books, easily working and concentrating with the quiet surroundings, before eventually packing up to head to your exams in the afternoon.
One morning, though, exhaustion finally caught up with you. You’d been cramming for a couple days, running on little sleep, and your body decided it couldn’t keep up anymore.
Vi noticed you were quieter than usual, your head drooping slightly as you flipped through your notes. She’d thought about saying something but didn’t want to disturb you.
When she looked over again a few minutes later, though, she saw you slumped forward on the counter, your head resting against an open textbook. Your breathing was slow and even, your face pressed against the pages, looking completely at peace.
Vi froze for a moment, her chest tightening in a way she couldn’t quite explain. You looked… adorable, she thought, almost too perfect in that quiet, vulnerable moment. She wiped her hands on a towel absentmindedly, then glanced around the empty bar.
Unable to help herself, she moved from behind the counter and slid into the stool beside you, making sure to be quiet. She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the counter as she studied you.
The soft rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your lashes fluttered just slightly in your sleep, the curve of your lips as they parted ever so slightly—it all made her heart ache in the strangest way.
For a few long minutes, she just sat there, her head tilted slightly, watching you like she was trying to memorize every detail. She thought about waking you up, but part of her didn’t want to. You looked too peaceful, and honestly, she liked having this moment to herself.
Vi let out a soft breath, her lips curving into a small smile.
“Pretty,” she murmured under her breath, the words barely audible even to herself.
When finals week ended, you should’ve felt relief.
You’d survived the late nights, the endless notes, the last-minute cramming. But as you walked back to your apartment after your last exam, all you could feel was a gnawing worry sitting heavy in your chest.
Without exams to study for, without needing the quiet escape of the bar in the mornings, what excuse would you have to see Vi now?
Could you just… show up?
Vi had told you plenty of times that you were welcome there whenever. But it felt different now, like you were losing the one solid reason you had to sit in that quiet space while Vi worked behind the bar.
The thought made you slow your steps, your bag of textbooks feeling heavier than it had all week.
You’d fallen into a rhythm with her—those soft, peaceful mornings where she’d make you coffee without asking, tease you gently when you got too absorbed in your books, and being in her presence made you feel more grounded than you’d ever been.
Now that the routine was gone, you weren’t sure where that left you.
You tossed your bag onto your bed and flopped down beside it, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe I’ll still go to the bar tomorrow morning, you thought, trying to reassure yourself. But doubt crept in immediately. Would she think it was strange if you kept coming back without a reason? Would it seem like you were lingering too much, too long?
You rolled over, burying your face in the pillow as the worry churned in your mind. You couldn’t deny how much you liked being around her—how much you liked… well, her. The idea of not seeing her felt almost unbearable.
With a groan, you sat up and pulled your phone from your pocket. You stared at the screen, thumb hovering over Vi’s contact name.
You’d only messaged a few times before—mostly her checking in, asking if you’d made it back to your apartment safely. The thought of starting a conversation now made your stomach twist nervously.
But you wanted to see her. Needed to, even.
You tapped out a message and then erased it.
Then another.
Then erased that too.
What were you supposed to say? Hey, finals are over, but can I still come to the bar and stare at you for hours like a hopeless idiot? Stupid.
Finally, you set your phone down with a sigh, running your hands through your hair. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe she was thinking about you too, wondering if she’d still get to see you now that finals week was done.
But for a while, you stayed away.
Not because you didn’t want to go back—you wanted to more than anything—but the thought of walking into that bar now made your chest tighten with nerves.
The thought embarrassed you, enough that you buried yourself in other things—laundry, tidying your dorm, even a quick grocery run you didn’t really need. Anything to avoid confronting the growing ache in your chest that whispered how much you missed her already.
You told yourself you’d go tomorrow. Then tomorrow came, and you put it off again.
But those days dragged.
The emptiness of your mornings felt heavier than you expected, and the thought of Vi kept slipping into your mind no matter how hard you tried to focus on anything else.
Here, it felt hollow, like something was missing. And you knew exactly what it was.
By the second night, you were pacing your room, staring at your phone every few minutes, wondering if you should just message her. You groaned at yourself, flopping onto your bed and tossing your phone to the side.
It was ridiculous. You wanted to see her. You liked seeing her. So why was it so hard to just show up?
It was the knock on your door that snapped you out of your restless thoughts. You opened it to find Maddie standing there, already halfway dressed up, her hair curled and makeup done. She grinned at you, that mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned against the doorframe.
“Get dressed,” she said without preamble. “We’re celebrating. We deserve to let loose a little.”
You hesitated for half a second, your mind immediately jumping to Vi and that bar. “Where exactly are we going?”
Maddie smirked. “The Last Drop, obviously.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to play it cool, shrugging like you didn’t care either way. “Oh, back there again?”
“Hell yeah,” she said, already pushing her way into your dorm. “C’mon, don’t make me drag you. Get dressed. No excuses.”
For the first time in two days, you felt a rush of anticipation—nerves, yes, but excitement too. You couldn’t deny it anymore. You wanted to see Vi.
And maybe going with Maddie and the others would make it easier. Less pressure, less obvious that you were showing up just to see her.
So you jumped at the opportunity, rifling through your closet while Maddie lounged on your bed, offering unhelpful commentary about your choices. Eventually, you settled on something nice—a pretty dress, stockings, a coat to match.
“You clean up well,” Maddie teased as you slipped on your shoes.
You flushed, ignoring her as you grabbed your bag and jacket. It was cold outside, but you’d still made an effort—a bit of mascara, a touch of lipstick, enough to feel put-together.
But as you walked toward the bar, the nerves came creeping back.
The neon sign of the bar glowed in the distance, and your chest tightened as you stepped closer. The thought of seeing Vi again made your heart race, but you shoved the nerves down.
As soon as you stepped through the door of the bar, you could feel the atmosphere shift. It was quieter tonight, but still filled with the familiar hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the low buzz of the jukebox in the corner.
Your eyes automatically darted to the bar, hoping—no, praying—that you might catch sight of her.
And then Maddie’s voice broke through your thoughts, loud and unmistakable.
“Hey, over here!”
You turned to see her waving enthusiastically at a booth toward the back of the bar. A few of her friends were already there, but what caught your attention wasn’t a group. It was the other two people sitting at the table, one of them leaning back with a casual air, a drink in hand, the other staring at you like they were expecting you.
You froze for a moment, your heart sinking. Your gaze flickered between Maddie and the table, noticing her bright, mischievous smile. She’d set you up.
You forced a smile, suddenly feeling out of place. “Uh, Maddie…?”
Your stomach dropped. A double date?
“This is Chris,” she interrupted, pointing at the guy sitting next to you. He smiled widely, practically leaning over the table as he extended his hand.
You hesitated for a moment, still processing the situation. “Uh… hi.”
“We thought you two would hit it off,” Maddie added, as though she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on you.
“Yeah, you know, I take Professor Talis’ class, right?” Chris said, his voice a little too eager. “We’ve had a couple of group discussions before.”
You offered a polite smile, not quite sure what to make of him. You weren’t even sure how to respond to the whole situation.
Was this supposed to be a date? You’d come to the bar to see Vi—not this.
You glanced around, your eyes scanning the familiar faces behind the bar, hoping to see her. And there, at the counter, you finally spotted her.
Vi.
Chris kept talking, his voice a constant buzz in the background as you tried to nod politely, throwing in an occasional “mhm” or “yeah” just to keep the conversation moving.
But your attention wasn’t on him. It wasn’t on anything other than Vi.
You saw her again, and this time, it wasn’t a subtle glance. Vi had noticed you, her gaze locking onto you from across the room. Her eyes moved briefly over your face, taking you in, before they shifted downward—her gaze narrowing slightly as she looked at Chris, who was still talking to you like everything was normal.
Your breath caught in your throat when you saw her brow furrow, just enough to let you know she was confused.
There was something in the way she looked at you, something almost possessive, like she couldn’t quite figure out what was going on but she knew for a fact that she didn’t like it. She stood still for a moment, fingers wrapped around the edge a glass as she studied you.
For a second, you wondered if it was just your imagination, but then it clicked. Vi was jealous.
You hadn’t noticed before, but now you saw the little tension in her posture, the way her lips pressed together just slightly, the way her gaze flicked back to you every time he leaned in a little too close.
Chris, oblivious to well… everything, kept talking, his voice rising a little as he continued to try and make small talk.
You had no idea what he’d said because all you could hear was the beat of your heart in your ears, and the undeniable pull of Vi’s gaze on you. It was like she was silently challenging you, wanting to see what you’d do.
You glanced back over to Vi, who was still watching you, but now she was pretending to be busy with something—towels, or glassware, or whatever it was that could distract her from the situation.
You saw her glance down at her phone for a second, and you could almost feel her trying to decide whether or not to come over, to approach you, to do something to get your attention.
But instead of doing that, she lingered behind the bar, still looking at you—her expression unreadable now. And as much as you tried to focus on the conversation in front of you, your mind kept drifting back to her. You didn’t care about him anymore. You didn’t care about anything except the way Vi looked at you just now.
Your eyes slid back to Vi, and this time, you didn’t look away. You didn’t try to hide how you felt.
On the other side of the room, Vi’s eyes were locked on you, even though she tried to focus on the tasks in front of her.
She couldn’t help herself, a sense of possessiveness building in her chest. She wondered if you had dressed up like that for him. The guy you’d been sitting with, the one talking a mile a minute, clearly trying to impress you.
Vi’s stomach twisted, and she found herself gripping the counter a little too tightly as she watched you.
God, you looked so good. Vi’s chest tightened at the thought. She tried to focus on cleaning the counter in front of her, but the image of you with him—of you dressed up for him—kept invading her mind.
She wanted it to be her you were dressed up for. She wanted it to be her who got your attention, who you couldn’t stop thinking about.
She couldn’t do this.
She had to look away, had to force herself to breathe, because it was all getting too much.
With a frustrated sigh, Vi wiped her hands on a towel and excused herself, slipping through the back of the bar and into the staff area. She didn’t care if anyone noticed. She just had to get out of there.
She slammed the door behind her, pressing her back against it as she took a deep breath. Her heart was racing, and her mind was spinning. She had no idea what this was, what you were doing to her.
But the thought of you with someone else, the thought of you not being hers, made her ache in a way she wasn’t ready for.
She rubbed her face with both hands, trying to shake the frustration from her body. She tried to steady herself, taking in a few deep breaths as she stared at the floor. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way. She wasn’t supposed to be jealous.
But she wanted you.
And the more she thought about it, the clearer it became.
Vi’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the knock on the staff room door.
She’d half expected it to be Mylo, probably ready to give her a hard time for disappearing off the floor. He always seemed to have a knack for knowing when she was brooding in the back, and she was sure he’d have something to say about it.
But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Mylo.
It was you.
You stood there in the doorway, hesitant, but with that soft look on your face. You looked so damn good up close like this—like you had stepped out of a dream. Vi’s chest tightened, and she swallowed hard.
You looked at her for a moment, unsure of what to say, and then, in a voice that was soft, you say, “I thought… I thought you might be back here.”
She stood still for a second, just staring at you, unsure of how to handle the fact that you had found her.
“Uh, sorry if I—” You paused, glancing down at your shoes like you weren’t sure how to proceed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to, I don’t know, check in.”
“You’re not interrupting. I just—“ Vi stepped back to let you in, closing the door behind you. “—needed to take a break.”
She leaned against the door, keeping her distance, unsure if you’d notice how much she was trying to keep her guard up.
The silence stretched between you two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… intimate in its own way.
You were quiet too, glancing around the small room, but eventually, your eyes fell to her again. Vi noticed the way your gaze lingered on her, and she couldn’t help but feel the heat rise to her face.
Her breath caught in her throat for a second, but she quickly brushed it off, trying to focus on the conversation, trying not to get lost in the way you looked at her.
“You didn’t come back… when your tests were over…” Vi’s voice dropped quieter, a little hesitant, like she wasn’t sure how to ask the question.
She hadn’t seen you in a while, and it made her question everything.
The words hung between you, and Vi shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering away for a moment, focusing on something in the corner of the room.
She didn’t want to look too eager, too desperate. But the truth was, she had been thinking about you. Every minute of the day. And when she didn’t see you, when she didn’t hear from you, it made her feel like maybe she wasn’t as important to you as she had thought.
She didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but the words had slipped out. Vi cleared her throat, turning back to you.
“I thought… I thought maybe I’d see you again, but… you didn’t come back.” Her voice softened again.
Did you want to come back? Had she somehow messed things up by letting herself feel this much for you? Vi couldn’t keep the questions from creeping into her mind, even though she tried to push them away.
“You didn’t even text,” she said quietly, her voice softer now, almost a whisper.
You blinked, surprised by the sharpness in her voice, the way it cut through the silence that had been so comfortable just a moment ago. You could see it in her eyes—something in the way she said that, something fragile.
It made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t meant to distance yourself from her. You just… didn’t know what to say.
“I… I didn’t mean to disappear,” you said quietly, your voice soft and unsure. You shifted your weight, glancing down at your feet, before looking up again. “It’s just, I was nervous about coming back without having a solid reason to, and I thought maybe, you know…”
Vi’s gaze softened, the intensity in her eyes giving way to something more tender. She tilted her head slightly, studying you.
“Nervous?” she repeated quietly, as if testing the word. Her brow furrowed slightly. “About what?”
You swallowed, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress, trying to find the right words. It felt strange, admitting it aloud, but with Vi in the room with you, you couldn’t stop yourself.
“About… you,” you said, the confession slipping out before you could stop it. “About all of this… about seeing you again, about how I feel when I’m around you… I didn’t want to mess it up.”
Vi’s heart skipped a beat at your words. Her breath caught for a fraction of a second.
“It’s just…” she started again, her voice a little rough. “I missed seeing you. That’s all.”
Her gaze shifted to the floor for a moment, a faint flush creeping up her neck. She wasn’t used to admitting this kind of thing aloud either, not even to herself. But there it was, spilling out between you two like something she couldn’t stop.
You felt your heart tug at the honesty in her voice, the way it made you feel like maybe you hadn’t been the only one thinking about this.
“I missed you, too.”
And for the first time tonight, Vi finally smiled.
You couldn’t help but tease her, a small smirk curling at the corners of your lips as you said, “I was waiting for you to text me, too, you know.”
The words felt bold, but you couldn’t hide the nervous excitement bubbling up inside of you.
Vi dropped her head and let out a breathy chuckle. The jealousy, the frustration, everything she’d been feeling earlier—it seemed to vanish completely.
She leaned back against the door, her eyes never leaving yours, full of something far gentler now—something you hadn’t seen before, or at least not like this.
“Can you come here?” she asked, her voice soft, almost like a whisper, but there was something in it that made the air in the room thick.
You hesitated for just a moment, heart pounding in your chest, but you couldn’t resist. Slowly, you walked over to her, your movements measured, though a nervous excitement fluttered in your stomach.
Vi’s eyes never left you as you approached. She watched the way your dress moved with each step, the way your body shifted as you walked toward her, and it drove her absolutely wild. She couldn’t help but let her eyes linger, taking in the sight of you, the way the fabric clung to your curves.
By the time you were close enough, Vi had already moved. She leaned against the door, her hands coming up to gently but firmly grip your hips, pulling you in closer. You felt the heat of her touch spread through you, her hands on your hips guiding you so that you were now flat against her chest, your bodies pressed together.
You couldn’t stop the breath that caught in your throat, the feel of her hands on you sending a wave of heat rushing through your body.
You could feel the rhythm of her breathing, the slight hitch in it when you finally stood there, so close. Her gaze flickered down to the dress you were wearing, and you could feel the tension in her fingers as she lightly traced the hem of it, playing with the fabric as though she couldn’t quite get enough of it.
“I like this,” Vi’s voice was quiet, almost a murmur, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s pretty.”
You didn’t say anything at first, instead simply meeting her gaze, your pulse quickening under her touch. The way she looked at you now, hungry and dazed, made your stomach flip in the best way.
“I… I wasn’t sure if it was too much,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling a little shy but also emboldened by the way Vi was looking at you.
Vi smiled softly, her lips curving up as she leaned in just a little bit closer, her breath warming your cheek.
“It’s perfect,” she said, voice low, as if the words were meant only for you. “You look perfect.”
Her eyes darkened just a fraction, the playful smirk on her lips transforming into something more primal, more feral. Her hands on your hips tightened just a little, urging you closer, as if she couldn’t get close enough.
Vi’s gaze was heavy, her pupils dark and blown wide as they locked onto your face, moving slowly down to your lips. Her stare was intense—shameless, even—and it made your breath hitch.
Her grip on your hips tightened, fingers pressing firmly into your sides. The fabric of your dress bunched up under her hands, her thumbs brushing against the soft material as though she couldn’t help herself. Her touch was slow, almost like she was trying to memorize the feeling of you under her palms.
You could feel the heat radiating off her, the space between you almost nonexistent now. The way her gaze lingered on your lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt rooted to the spot, as if moving would break whatever spell had settled over the two of you.
Vi swallowed hard, her Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, her hands twitching against your hips as though resisting the urge to pull you impossibly closer. Her chest rose and fell in time with her quickened breathing, and you could feel her struggle to keep herself in check, though the way she stared at you made it clear how difficult that was.
Instead, her fingers tightened again, the slight pull of your dress drawing you even closer to her. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were on the verge of saying something, but her gaze kept flickering back to your mouth, and you wondered if words were even necessary.
You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but before you could form a single word, Vi moved. Her grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your dress as she leaned in and claimed your lips with her own.
Her mouth was warm, soft but insistent, and it stole the breath right out of your lungs. You froze for half a second, startled, but then everything in you melted. Your hands found their way to her shoulders, gripping her lightly as she pulled you even closer, pressing your body flush against hers.
There was a kind of hunger in the way her lips moved against yours, but it was careful too—like she wanted to take her time and savor every second of it. Her fingers slid up your sides slightly, still gripping your dress, her thumbs brushing over your waist as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss.
When she finally pulled back, just barely, her forehead rested against yours. She was breathless, her eyes still heavy-lidded as they locked onto yours. Her hands were still on your hips, holding you against her.
Vi looks at you, a wide, soft smile spreading across her face as she leans her head back against the door, her hands moving upward, tracing the curve of your back slowly. Her fingertips brush against the zipper of your dress, playing with it absentmindedly as she lets out a breathy laugh.
“I think I’m doing this out of order…” she murmurs.
Your brows knit together slightly, still dazed from the kiss.
“Out of order?” you echo, your voice quieter than you intended.
Vi nods, her gaze drifting back to your lips as if they we drawn there magnetically.
Her smile turns almost sheepish, but the heat in her eyes doesn’t fade as she mutters quietly, “Yeah… ‘was supposed to ask you out on a date first.”
The words make your stomach flip, and before you can respond, she keeps going. Her voice softens, a little lower, as if she’s painting a picture just for you.
“I would’ve asked you where you’d like to eat… something casual, nothing too fancy. Then I’d pick you up, you’d wear something pretty for me, and I’ll take you somewhere nice. Not here,” she says with a small grin, “somewhere quiet, somewhere where I could actually talk to you without interruptions.”
Her hands are wandering now, sliding slowly down your sides, then up again, the warmth of her palms seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. One of her thumbs brushes against your ribcage, close to the underside of your breasts, her touch gentle but enough to make your breath hitch.
You’re barely holding onto her words as her hands move, but she keeps talking, her tone calm and almost hypnotic.
“Maybe, take you to this little Italian place I like. Not too crowded, but the food’s incredible. Candlelit, y’know? Not to be cheesy, but I think you’d like it.”
Her hands drift down again, her thumbs skimming along the curve of your hips as she keeps her voice low and steady.
“We’d get some wine—unless you’d rather have water, of course,” she teases softly, her lips twitching into a smirk, “and then we’d just… talk. No distractions, no noise, just you and me.”
Her fingers glide back up, tracing the line of your spine.
“After dinner, maybe a walk somewhere. I dunno, a park, the waterfront… wherever you’d want to go. Just somewhere I could hold your hand and maybe steal a kiss, if you let me.”
You try to focus on her voice, but her hands are relentless, mapping your body like she’s trying to memorize every inch. Your breath catches when her fingers tease the short sleeve of your dress, her thumb brushing your shoulder.
“Then,” she continues, her eyes flicking to yours, “I’d walk you home, make sure you got inside safe. And maybe… maybe if I was lucky, you’d ask me to come in and... Well, I don’t wanna spoil it.”
Her lips curve into a lazy smile, her fingers halting just above the small of your back.
“That’s how it was supposed to go,” she says softly, her voice dripping with affection as her gaze locks onto yours.
Your heart pounds in your chest, your body warm and your mind spinning. It’s impossible to think straight when her hands are on you, her voice so low and inviting.
“So why haven’t you?” you ask softly, your voice almost a whisper.
You lean in closer, and Vi instinctively follows your lips, her breath brushing against them.
“Hm?” she hums, clearly distracted, her gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.
“—asked me out yet?” you finish, your voice trembling slightly, the boldness of the question surprising even you.
Vi freezes for a fraction of a second, then her lips tug into a small, almost bashful smile. Without saying a word, she leans in and kisses you again, soft and lingering, her lips fitting against yours. After a moment, her mouth leaves yours only to trail a path down to your jaw, her lips brushing against your skin.
She pauses at the curve of your neck, pressing a slow kiss there before muttering against your skin, her voice husky and low, “You make me nervous, too.”
You feel her lips curl into a smile against your neck, like she knows exactly what kind of effect she’s having on you. Her hands tighten slightly on your waist, holding you as if she can feel the way your legs are threatening to give out beneath you.
You tilt your head slightly, giving her better access without even thinking, and she takes full advantage of it. Her breath is warm against your skin, and every kiss feels like it’s melting away whatever distance was left between the two of you.
“Vi…” you murmur, unsure if you’re trying to stop her or encourage her to keep going.
She pulls back just enough to look at you, her lips slightly parted, her cheeks faintly flushed.
“Yeah?” she asks, her voice quiet.
You don’t have an answer, not one you can articulate anyway. All you can do is stare at her, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure she can hear it. And then she smiles, a crooked, endearing smile that makes your stomach flutter in the best way.
Vi’s lips return to your neck, her breath warm against your skin. She lingers there, her mouth pressing gentle kisses to the curve of your throat, her hands holding your waist firmly as if to steady you. You feel her lips part, the faintest scrape of her teeth against your skin sending a shiver down your spine.
“V-Vi…” you whimper again, but your voice lacks conviction, too soft, too dazed.
And good god, her name sounds so good on your lips.
She hums in response, low and teasing, as her lips close over the sensitive spot she’s found, sucking lightly. The sensation sends a shiver through your entire body, and you grip the fabric of her shirt without thinking, your nails pressing into her shoulders as she kisses your neck.
Her hands slide up your back, keeping you close, and her lips move to a new spot, determined to leave another mark. You know you should stop her, that you’ll be left with marks you can’t easily explain, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
Her tongue traces over the freshly made hickey, soothing it before she moves lower, her lips brushing against your collarbone now. You feel lightheaded, completely consumed by her—her touch, her warmth, her scent, her hands, her lips.
“Vi…” you try again, but it comes out weaker than before, more like a plea than a protest.
She chuckles softly against your skin, the sound low and rumbling, and you feel her smile.
“Too much?” she asks playfully, though she doesn’t pull away.
You don’t answer. You can’t.
Instead, your fingers tighten against her shirt, and she takes it as permission to continue. Her lips find the hollow of your throat, her teeth grazing against the delicate skin there before she sucks lightly, her hands roaming lower to rest just above your hips.
By the time she finally pulls back, you’re breathless, your head spinning. Her lips are slightly swollen, her smile smug but tender as she looks at you.
“You’re gonna hate me when you see those,” she says softly, her fingers brushing lightly against your neck where her lips had been.
As soon as Vi pulls back, her lips curling into that smug, tender smile, you don’t think. You act. You grab her collar, pulling her down as you surge up to meet her lips, kissing her hard and desperate, pouring every pent-up feeling into that kiss.
Vi grunts softly against your mouth, low and rough, and it sends a thrill down your spine. Her hands, still gripping your waist, tighten possessively to keep you exactly where you are. You feel her smile against your lips for a moment before she kisses you back just as fiercely, her teeth grazing your bottom lip, her tongue brushing against yours in a way that makes your knees weak.
It’s almost overwhelming, the way she kisses you—like she’s been starving for you.
She breaks the kiss just long enough to push herself off the door, her hands sliding to your hips as she turns you around. Before you can even process what’s happening, your back hits the door with a soft slam, the wood rattling slightly behind you. Vi’s hands cage you in, one hand by the side of your head and the other on your hip, keeping you in place as she crashes her lips back onto yours.
She kisses you like she’s claiming you, like she wants to make it crystal clear who you belong to. Her heart swells with pride as she imagines that guy you were with outside, seeing all those little bruises she left on your neck for everyone to see.
“You’re so pretty, baby,” Vi murmurs against your lips, her voice hoarse and ragged, before diving back in.
Her fingers slide underneath the hem of your dress, tracing the soft curve of your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. The moment her touch makes contact with the bare skin of your thighs, you gasp, the feeling of her fingers inching higher and higher, making your pulse race.
You can feel the way she presses in, her grip firm, as if she’s marking territory, staking her claim. She wanted you so bad. But she’s careful with you, and you can feel how she’s holding herself back just a little, the restraint making you ache for more. You know she wants you just as much as you want her—and you can’t help but be drawn deeper into her orbit.
Her hands reach up under your dress, the pads of her fingers tracing your lace panties and Vi shudders at the feeling. She can feel the dampness and warmth of you already and fuck, it drives her absolutely wild.
“You’re already wet, sweetheart,” she says, smiling against your neck proudly.
“V-Vi… Here?” You gasp into her ear.
She nods eagerly, eyes dazed as she looks at you, “Mhm.”
“B-But, someone might hear—“
“Then, you’ll keep quiet for me, won’t you, princess?” She purrs into your ear. “Can you do that?”
Your breath hitches at the way she says it, making your knees feel weak. You feel her smile against your skin, a sly curve of her lips that tells you she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.
“Hmm?” she hums, her thumb rubbing the center of your panties in soft circles, testing your reaction. She tilts her head slightly to catch your gaze. “Or are you gonna make it hard for me?”
You swallow, your heart pounding as you meet her gaze, your lips parting to answer, but nothing comes out. Instead, you nod, your breath hitching as her thumb presses your clit over the fabric of your panties.
She smiles, one hand coming up to fondle your breast. You whimper when she squeezes softly, enjoying the soft fullness in the palm of her hands.
“Tell me.”
You get lost in her stare, blue eyes telling you how much she wants you.
“I-I want you, Violet.”
Without wasting another second, Vi slips the hand that was under your dress and into your panties, her fingers immediately coming in contact with your soaking cunt, your folds slick with want. She hums in approval, and all you can do is nod again, biting down on your lip to keep from making a sound. Vi notices, her smirk widening as she leans in again, her lips trailing down your neck in a series of soft kisses.
“That’s my girl,” she whispers, her voice vibrating against your skin, making it impossible to focus on anything but her.
And when she slips a finger inside, you drop your head to her shoulder, trying to muffle your moan. Her finger immediately curls against your tight walls and you can feel your knees buckle as she thrusts her finger into you.
“Oh, V-Vi—“
She lifts her head up and kisses you on the lips, her tongue slipping inside with ease. She swallowed your moans as she whimpered into your mouth, her body trapping you between her and the door.
“You look… so good,” she murmured, voice hushed, her lips grazing your skin as she spoke. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
But then she adds another finger without any warning, her pace speeding up as you leaned your head back against the door behind you. You let your jaw fall when you feel her thrusting, and thrusting, and thrusting, and curling right into that spongy spot inside your pussy that made you moan.
“N-nh … A-Ah, fuck!” You gasp, unable to control your voice as she speeds up her fingers.
“Shh, shhhh, baby,” she murmurs against your lips, tilting her head as she watches you fall apart on her fingers. “Does it feel good, princess?”
“M-Mhm—ah—“
“Yeah?” You feel Vi smile on your lips.
Nodding your head, you whine, feeling your body grow weak the longer she fucked you.
“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs against your neck, her voice low and husky.
Her fingers move quickly as they piston in and out of you, a soft squelching noise filling the empty room, teasing and testing your boundaries, gauging every reaction you give her. You could hear the low thrum of the music outside, playing in the lounge and in the bar, but you can barely begin to think about anything else other than the way Vi was making you feel, the way you were coming undone right in front of her.
“Look at you,” she whispers, her voice thick with adoration, “so pretty like this.”
Her free hand, the one that was fondling your tits, moves from your waist to cradle your face, her thumb brushing over your cheek as she leans in to kiss you deeply.
And holy fuck, you could feel it—how close you suddenly were.
You were sure Vi could feel it, too. She groans against your neck, head falling to your shoulder as she breathes you in, feeling your tight walls clench around her digits. You close. You were so damn close—
Then, Vi’s ears twitch—the sound of footsteps coming closer from behind the door.
She freezes. But only for a brief moment when she hears Mylo’s voice through the door, her body going taut as she glances at you. Your eyes widen, but Vi doesn’t pull away. Instead, a sly grin spreads across her face, her pupils blown wide as she looks at you.
Her lips find your ear, her words sending a shiver down your spine. “Stay quiet for me, yeah?”
And instead of stopping, her lips curl into a mischievous grin. Her fingers don’t falter, if anything she thrusted them faster into your wet pussy, her other hand moving quickly to cover your mouth as a quiet whimper escapes you, muffling all your delicious moans. You whimper against her mouth, eyes rolling back, not sure when you were going to cum. You felt so close—so fucking close.
“Shhh,” she whispers, her mouth brushing against your ear, her voice low and dripping with amusement.
From the other side of the door, Mylo’s voice comes again, confused but unconcerned. “Vi? You in there? You good?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she calls out, her voice steady, calm, like nothing at all is happening. “Just… needed a minute.”
You feel your face heat up as you struggle to stay composed, muffled against her palm, your eyes wide and pleading. But Vi’s gaze is locked onto yours as she continues to fuck you.
“Well, can you hurry up? The bar’s getting packed,” he says.
“Y-Yeah, I’ll be there!” Vi sighs as your legs begin to tremble.
Mylo grumbles something you can’t understand, footsteps retreating as he wanders off.
As soon as the sound of his steps fades, Vi lets out a low chuckle, finally removing her hand from your mouth. Her thumb brushes against your lips as she leans in close, her breath fanning your cheek. You were right around her fingers, and Vi couldn’t help but groan and press her thumb against your clit.
You jolt in her arms as you hold on to her shoulders for some leverage, trying to keep yourself steady, even though it felt like an impossible task. Vi groans when you clench, your soaking wet pussy dripping down your thighs, dripping onto her hand as she fingers you.
Vi could feel it on her fingers, slick and tight. How close you were—fuck fuck fuck. She moved faster and all you could do was hold on and cry into her shoulder.
“V-Vi, I—close—I’m—“
“You wanna cum? Yeah?” Vi whispers, using her body to press you against the door, fingers thrusting harder, deeper and faster. “Cum for me, baby.”
Then it crashes. Vi feels your body tense under her touch, your breaths coming faster as you gush around her fingers. She can see it in the way your hands clutch at her shoulders, the way your head tilts back slightly, lips parting as a soft, desperate mewl escapes your mouth.
But before that sound can grow louder, Vi’s lips crash onto yours, swallowing the moan that tries to escape. She doesn’t stop her fingers until you’re trembling in her arms. You melt against her, your body trembling, leaving you breathless and clinging to her, her strong arms and broad shoulders hold you up. Vi doesn’t pull back, keeping her lips on yours until she’s sure you’re done riding it out.
When she finally does break the kiss, her lips linger close, her forehead resting gently against yours. You’re panting softly, and she’s just smiling.
“Fuck,” she murmurs and you can feel her smirk against your skin as she presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.
Vi’s hand slows to a stop, pulling her fingers out of you slowly, her palm pressing flat against your thigh as she watches you. Her gaze is stuck on you, like she couldn’t believe what she’s seeing. The way your body trembles against hers, the soft flush of your cheeks, the way your lips part as you gasp for breath—it’s all too much and somehow not enough at the same time.
Her chest tightens as she leans her head forward against your shoulder. Vi wasn’t prepared for this—wasn’t prepared for you. And the thought crashes into her like a freight train: she’s falling hard. Maybe she already has.
She lifts her head up and he thumb absentmindedly brushes against your skin as you catch your breath. You’re leaning against her now, your head resting lightly on her shoulder, still dazed and glowing after your orgasm. Vi doesn’t even realize she’s staring, her lips slightly parted, her pupils blown wide with love.
She blurts it out without even thinking.
“So… dinner… Friday?”
Her ears burn as she watches for your reaction.
“I mean—” she starts, her voice faltering, unsure whether to backtrack or double down.
But when she glances down at you, still pressed against her, all she can do is grin sheepishly.
“You’re seriously asking me out… right now?” you say, lifting an eyebrow at her. Your voice is soft and teasing, but still a little breathless from everything that just happened.
Vi’s lips curl into a crooked grin, and she lets out a laugh that’s equal parts nervous and amused. She’s holding you up slightly, biceps flexing under her shirt, her hands resting lightly on your hips, her thumbs grazing the fabric of your dress like she’s afraid to let go.
“Yeah,” she says, her voice low but steady, her grin widening. “Is that a problem?”
You shake your head, narrowing your eyes at her like you’re trying to figure her out. You dart your eyes downward, glancing down at where her hands are on you, feeling the warmth of her touch through the thin fabric.
“Stupid,” you mutter under your breath.
You stare at Vi.
“Friday?” you ask softly, tilting your head slightly, your voice teasing her.
Vi nods again, more earnestly this time, her lips parting like she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead, she just looks at you, like she’s this big, lovesick puppy. And, if she had a tail right now, you’re pretty sure it would be wagging hard enough to knock over a chair or two.
“Friday,” she repeats.
She shifts on her feet slightly, her hands still resting on your hips, thumbs brushing tiny circles against the fabric of your dress. You bite back a laugh, your smile growing as you watch her, all nervous and excited.
“Okay,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.
Vi’s entire face lights up, her crooked grin spreading so wide it makes her dimples appear.
“Yeah?” she says softly, and you nod, still smiling.
And then she stops, her eyes flickering to your lips one last time, but she doesn’t move any closer.
She’s waiting—patiently, sweetly—for you to close the gap if you want to. And it makes your heart ache a little because she’s trying so hard to hold herself back for your sake, even when you can tell it’s killing her.
But as soon as your eyes day to her lips and smile softly, her restraint crumbles. She leans in and kisses you, her hands tightening slightly on your hips. Vi’s heart feels like it’s about to burst out of her chest. She likes you—so much it scares her, so much she doesn’t know what to do with herself right now except kiss you harder.
You kiss her back with just as much intensity, your fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt to pull her even closer. You can feel the slight tremor in her hands where they grip your hips, sliding up slowly to your waist. She tastes like peppermint gum and something faintly sweet, and the way she kisses you makes your heart race so fast you’re surprised she can’t feel it through your chest.
Vi pulls back for just a moment, her forehead resting against yours as she exhales a shaky breath. Her lips are still parted, her eyes half-lidded as she looks at you, and she’s smiling—wide and boyish and so full of joy that it makes your chest tighten.
“I really, really like you.”
You laugh softly, your hand moving up to touch her jaw, your thumb brushing over her cheek where her tattoo is.
“I really, really like you, too,” you tease, your own voice a little shaky from how lightheaded you feel.
Vi grins, her dimples showing, and then she kisses you again, this time slower, softer, like she’s savoring it.
You cant think of anything else but her. The noise from the bar, the memory of whatever brought you here tonight—it’s all drowned out by the feeling of Vi’s lips on yours and the warmth of her hands on your waist.
And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself stop overthinking.
Vi feels like she’s floating, her chest so full it feels like she might burst. She likes you so much it almost hurts, and the way you kiss her back like you feel the same way makes her head spin. She pulls you just a little closer, her fingers slipping around your waist, and she can’t stop the quiet, breathless laugh that escapes against your lips. You smile into the kiss, your own heart thudding loudly in your chest.
If this is what liking Vi feels like, you think, you don’t ever want it to stop.
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