#but it was too jarring and was not perfectly even so ///:

[jjunbug]

hehe don’t even worry about it!! ♡♡ i’m so happy that i can finally read all your love thoughts on the prologue!! i’ve been waiting for this~~ but will do! 🫡

THE PLAYLISTTTT!!! i spent so much time on it hehe i’m glad that you like it!! and hehe the bog bodies i love that song so much and it fits so well with the future chapters too!! i’m excited for you to see it all ^^

but omg you got the subtle foreshadowing here!!! i love YOUU!!! and the worldbuilding hehe i’m so so happy that you like it so much!! and your super sweet words… stop i could cry. i’m so happy that my writing comes off so atmospheric and so visual that you can see the words like a movie!!! that’s like the greatest compliment ever and one of my goals, so you have no idea how glad i am to hear this!!! ♡♡ and published fantasy books??? i’m sobbing rn omg thank you?????

but yes!!! change is so so jarring and is literally nothing like how the (older) adults in our lives explained it to be and i wanted to show that in various ways. it’s something that i personally struggling with a lot and i’m so comforted but the fact that so many others can relate to me with this and also feel comforted by my words about it!! it truly reminds me that we aren’t in this all alone ♡♡♡

LMAOO😭 you asking if she’s a slave is killing me PLSS,,, i wouldn’t say she’s a slave, but she’s kinda like cinderella except there’s no evil stepsisters or anything just her!! her and her evil “mother” lamia lmao… but and the hound playing during all of this??? oh my… that would rip my guts out too… but hehe thank you so much!!! i literally start ascending when people compliment my music taste (∩˃o˂∩)♡♡ and lost playing while kai is introduced???? spotify perfectly lining up songs for you while reading omg,,, don’t even get me started on my blood,,,,,,

me??? a poet???? hehe stoppppp~~ (๑˃ᴗ˂) i use to be completely obsessed with poetry tho, so this is literally like the highest of compliments!!! reminds me of when i was in high school my english teacher had us write poems and she hung mine up for everyone to see for the rest of the time i was in high school lmao. but you complimenting my write,,, i will start crying omg.

but yesss!!!!! i love kai in this sm~~ him being all smooth and being like “well all queens need a king right??” like i’d literally melt on the spot me and mc are the exact same!!! and then him kissing her hand like OMGGGG,,, but yes hehe~~ this is just the prologue you’re not prepared for everything that goes down in chapter one…!!!

it’s okay lmao i laughed writing it😭😭 same with when i came up with green thumbs. i was like WAITTTT??? am i… a genius???? can you tell i spent wayyyy to much time coming up with the names of literally everything?? the oc names, the name of the inn, the name of the school…. hehe so much to tell~~ there’s literally SO much foreshadowing jam packed into this prologue that i’m so curious on how much everyone caught!!!

althea >>>>>>>>> lamia, that’s all i’ll say.

but yes yes yes THIS!!! him immediately going to her and content to just sit with her in silence if need be… literally besides althea, the only people they have in the whole world at that moment is each other, it’s so strangely comforting and so sad at the same time!! but i’m so happy that you like the dialogue!!!!! you don’t understand how many times i reread all of the paragraphs out loud just to make sure everything flowed well and that the dialogue didn’t seem so clunky… like it was kinda embarrassing but i’m so happy that it came out well!!!!!

and the artwork that inspired all of this!!!! you don’t understand as soon as i saw it i was like YES!!!!!! i need to write something about that IMMEDIATELY. i love artists and writers and poets so so much too, where would the world be without them??

but yes hehe all of the comparisons, i’m so happy that you caught it!!!! and i’m so happy you liked the inner dialogue too!!! i kinda did it a different way so i’m happy that it all paid off!! BUT YOURE LITERALLY SO SWEET AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AHHH!!! (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )♡♡♡ THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME!!!!!! TRUST i will publish a book one day and i’ll never forget all the kind things you and so many others said to me that lifted me up so high. literally going straight into my dedications and i’m so serious.

the timestamp for burn it down by daughter is killing me tho LMAOHSIFHJDFNJDD that’s so funny😭😭

literally gonna cry reading this like,,, i’m so happy that you enjoyed the prologue and thank you so so so so SO much for reading!!! ♡♡ i’m so excited to hear your thoughts about chapter one when i (finally) release it!!! hehe i hope you stay tuned!!!~~

BETWEEN TWILIGHT SKIES ───𝓅𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾: 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

in a world that’s on its dying breath, the once green and lush landscapes get buried in more and more layers of ash. the once flourishing streets that were full of magic are now a dull hum. yet, there is still hope—and it lies in the hands of you and kai, the last people to possess magic. suddenly, you remember the story of a forest that watches, and a well of life that lies deep within. you’re determined to save your bleak world in any way that you can, yet, you weren’t expecting to end up in a brand new world entirely.

pairing ⸝⸝ huening kai 𝑥 fem!reader 𓄵 𝓯eat. ꔛ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳!𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘢 (𝘰𝘤) & 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳!𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢 (𝘰𝘤)

genre ⋆ 📖 ⸝⸝ angst, fluff, a lot of yearning and longing (both romantic and platonic), magic, sorcerer!kai

warnings ⸝⸝ kidnapping, toxic environments and parental relationships, implied bullying, two instances of reader getting slapped, violence, death (of people & animals), depictions of gore, implied anxiety attack and abuse, hand holding & staring into each others eyes, tension filled kissing

𝓴ipo’s note ⸝⸝ the series has finally started!! now listen, listen, listen!! i know what you’re thinking, “a prologue and it’s 7.6k????” but i need you guys to STAY WITH ME!!! stay with me and lock in and after reading it all you’ll understand why it had to be this long lmao… next chapter you’ll meet yeonjun hehe~~ i hope you enjoy!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ❨ 7.6k ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝓼𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝒎𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ❩ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

‎ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏  ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏͏ 𐦍 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏NEXT ⤇

The world around you had begun to wither away and decay long before it had started to end. As most things do, the rot had started to creep its way in through love. It had used it as a gateway, spreading its sickness all throughout the things you touched until it was the thin wisps of ash coating your cracked fingertips. Still, you let the rot in—let it corrupt the things you loved and change them into something unrecognizable, something unimaginable—something that was now dead and gone. You just couldn’t let go of the small doses of love you were granted with—naively gulping down tasteless sips to fill that hole inside your heart left by people you never even really knew.

You cradled love like a child guards its favorite toy; with fear and hesitancy. It was clear in the way your body hunched over and you looked up at every grown-up through wet lashes. Obvious in the way your dirty clothes hung limply from gangly limbs—once a tight fit but now they seemed to be made for a child much older than you. It must’ve been what enthralled her, what made her decide to pluck a random child no older than five off the street in the middle of the night and take them home.

In a way, you guess you had to thank her for the senseless crime she committed; for it gave you a warm bed to lay your head at night and food to fill your growling belly. It didn’t bother you that it all had come at a price, in fact, you were none the wiser. But, you’d know soon enough. The mask can only stay on for so long before it starts to crack—before it starts to rot like everything else did.

Lamia, is the name she sweetly whispered next to your ear as she tucked you into a bed that was never yours that night. “But, you can call me Mom,” she said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was hard watching things change in front of your very eyes. It was never the way people described it for you. Not the slow twist of vines along a column or the grass growing taller than a fence—no. It was the whipping of wind across your face. You’d go to wipe your teary eyes and find the sunny and warm scenery was now cold and dead with glittering snow laying everywhere.

You hated it.

You wished that things could stay as they were for as long as they could. You hated watching the faces of people you’ve grown to know dip and sag with age in an instant. You hated watching the life leave their eyes in a quick blink. And you hated how life seemed to go so slow for everyone except for you.

If you could dare to wish for one thing, it would be more time.

Sweet nights and even sweeter days began to sour, and Lamia—your mother—wasn’t as kind as she used to be when you were still a child. You think that that is what hurt the most with this odd whipping of wind, that you were forced to watch the love your mother held for you leave her eyes faster than you got to grow up to the young teenager you were today.

“Welcome to the Freywolf Inn!” you heard her voice exclaim to the ringing bell of the door. It was a careful blend of welcoming and cheerful. The sound was drowned out of your ears by the incessant sound of a brush against hardwood and soap mixing with water. You sat back on your knees, throwing the brush into the soapy mess and letting it clang against the floor, sighing. You wiped the back of your wet hand across your forehead and sucked in a breath.

Your knees ached and your hands were sore and cramped. This was the worst part of your mornings. No matter how hard you scrubbed these wooden floors, it wasn’t enough for Lamia. If they didn’t shine as if freshly polished when you were done then you scrubbed them wrong and she made you clean them again. Standing up on weak legs, you looked over your shoulder at the new customers as you reached for the bucket of dirty soap water. A soft gasp left your lips and you had to hold on tight to the bucket handle with both hands to ensure its contents didn't go spilling all over the floor.

You’d recognize them anywhere—the Collective, with their hooded, light forest-green cloaks embroidered with gold filigree and its golden satin insides. You never saw a member in person before—not that you were particularly excited to. Seeing a member of the Collective, so far away from the School of Pith, could only mean one thing…

The rot was here.

Frozen like a deer caught on sacred ground, you stared wide-eyed at them as they made their way to the common room, their carefree laughs carrying in the air around them. It felt like a bad omen—a confirmation. You tried so hard to ignore the fate of the things around you, but seeing that you could no longer hide from it was like a punch to your stomach.

Strangely, you also couldn’t help but be morbidly fascinated by it all. You exhaled slowly, steadying your racing heart and stilling your shaking hands that grasped the handle of the wooden bucket. Distantly, you felt the sting of pain across the back of your hands and shut your eyes. Only when every last molecule of air was absent from your lungs did you allow yourself to gulp in more to soothe the burning—just like your mother taught you.

Your eyes fluttered back open and landed on the group of sorcerers. They playfully practiced their magic out in the open—ringlets of green floating in the air and curling around their fingers and forearms. Their hands moved in peculiar ways, a jerk here or a smooth twist of their wrist there. You couldn’t understand it, but the more you watched them perform magic in front of your very eyes, the more you wanted to. 

One member stood out to you in particular. He sat off to the side, a small distance away from where the others engaged and practiced their magic at, by himself. Dark hair fell over his warm-brown eyes, but you could still see how kind they were as they watched the other members of the Collective almost fondly. His green hood was over his head and he fiddled with the seams of his white pants with pale hands. There was a ghost of a smile on his face and—unbeknownst to you—there was one on yours too.

He didn’t practice his magic like the others did. He seemed content in just watching, having no need in the selfish display of power the others showcased. It piqued your interest what set him apart from the others and already you could feel a growing favor blossom in your chest for the boy.

He had to be only a few years older than you were and your cheeks warmed at the thought. He reached his arms up and pushed the hood backwards off his head, seemingly oblivious to your staring as were the rest of them. The filtered daylight washed over his body and you saw him more clearly. Your eyes greedily scanned over the slopes of his face, desperate to take him all in as quickly as you could. You couldn’t lie, he was beautiful.

You trailed your eyes over to the wisps of the green in the air. It’s different knowing that magic exists in a world so bleak and actually seeing it in action. It made you wonder where the ash was here in your small village—the rot—so you could watch them smother it. You needed to see those ringlets of green curl around it tighter and tighter until it didn’t exist anymore. Until all of the ash was gone for good.

You wanted to know what it felt like to wield such magic. Your fingers itched to replicate their movements in hopes that green wisps of your own would emerge. Maybe then would your touch not bring about destruction.

A hand roughly grabs your shoulder and breaks you away from the trance you were under. “Stupid child! Can you not hear?”

Lamia’s wrinkled face startlingly comes into view and you feel the bite of her nails in the flesh of your arm through the fabric of the thin dress you wore. You stammered, unsure of what to say and what her previous words were, and blinked rapidly at her accusation.

Wind whipped across your face and too late did you feel prickling pain spread across your cheek. The inn fell deathly silent and your eyes started to water. You swallowed down the lump in your throat thickly, your watery eyes finding your mother’s. “When I ask you a question, you answer it. Do I have to repeat myself?” your mother asked you.

Slowly, you shook your head and willed yourself to find your voice. “N-no, mother.” Your voice came out in a quiet squeak, completely pathetic and weak.

“Good,” Lamia responded. “Dry these soap-covered floors before our customers slip. Then, I want you to ensure the rooms for them are ready.” 

“Yes, mother,” you said in that same weak voice.

She looked you up and down for a moment before tsking. Then, she turned on her heel and returned back to where she was behind the counter beforehand. Smoke curled from her mouth as she leisurely flipped through the sign-in book, unaware of the way time changed around her.

You swallowed thickly again, fingers tightening and untightening around the handle of the bucket you still held. Slowly, you turned just enough to look over your shoulder at lounging customers. No longer did they smile and laugh with a carefree attitude and swirls of green in the air. Instead, they stared at you with barely disguised shock. Your gaze snapped to the boy you were spellbound with earlier to find him staring too, mouth slack and sitting at the edge of the couch like he was eager to stand. His eyes met your teary ones and you broke away from the sudden connection.

Lifting the bucket closer to your chest, you rushed off into the direction of the rooms, embarrassment weighing you down and the once unshed tears now falling down your face. You ignored the sloshing sound of the water inside of it and the way the wood hit against your stomach, spilling over the metal lip and onto the floor below, creating an even bigger mess.

Sniffling, you hid yourself in the supply room. Your tears fell freely and a large sob wracked your body. You let the bucket slip from your fingers just inches from the rocky floor without a care and with a piercing thud. Stupid, you thought to yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Get it together. Stop crying.

Yet, the tears wouldn't stop. You heaved in breaths of air that refused to reach your lungs. You didn’t have time for this. If the floors weren’t dry and the rooms weren’t checked on in a timely manner then you’d get worse than a slap across the face. Harshly, you dug the palms of your hands into your cheeks and wiped away the fallen tears. You compelled yourself to take a deep breath, to let the oxygen reach your lungs and not be blocked by the false closing of your throat. 

Closing your eyes, you took in another deep breath, and another and another until your body no longer began to tremble. You straightened your back so you weren’t hunched over anymore and wiped your hands down the front of your damp dress. When you felt like you weren’t unravelling at the seams only then did you step out of the supply room to face the world.

Instead of the loud chattering coming from the Collective like from when they arrived, it was quiet and sparse whispers. When you got closer to where they were in the common room, the whispers grew.

You tried to drown their whispers out—opting to instead get to work on your mother’s request. Dropping to your knees, you took the clean towel and aggressively dried the wet section of hardwood floor beneath you, letting all your focus fall onto the repeated action.

Footsteps sounded behind you, but you didn’t hear them until an unfamiliar voice stunned you from your focus. “If I may?” the voice asked. You looked to the side, eyes meeting dirty brown boots whose eyelets caught in the bright sun. They trailed upwards to white pants and gold embroidered filigree onto a light, forest-green velvet fabric. Your hand halted its aggressive drying as your eyes ascended further to meet the boy from earlier’s handsome face. Your eyes widened to saucers and his seemed to be just as big as they looked down at you. “It will all go faster if I do this,” he continued, some of his words wobbling around the edges.

You remained silent, not trusting your voice to not come out raw and abrasive. The boy extended a hand out in front of him and with a twist of his wrist wisps of green emerged and wrapped around it. They swirled out around the two of you, lightly fogging across the floor. You turned to the wet floor in front of you and watched as it suddenly dried, the wood shining in the sunlight pouring in from the window. Your jaw slackened as your mouth fell open.

“It was a simple spell—you shouldn’t have to be on your hands and knees drying a floor,” the boy stated, the second part lower than the first so your mother didn’t hear. He outstretched his hand to you. Your mouth was still open as you turned back to stare blankly at his hand. An amused and warm smile pulled his cheeks upward and you suddenly came to the realization that you must’ve looked ridiculous.

“T-thank you…” you trailed off, voice barely above a whisper, still starstruck by the display of magic and the boy’s smile. You straightened your back before blinking a couple times. Clearing your throat, you accepted his outstretched hand and the boy helped you to your feet.

He chuckled and you felt your knees weaken more. His hand was still holding yours, the both of you forgetful as your gaze seared into each other. The smile slowly fell from his face, his lips parting with unspoken words as he gaped at you as if bewitched. Snickering to your side brought the two of you back to real life and you pulled your hands away from each other. 

“Uh,” the boy said, clenching the hand that was just holding yours and trying to form a coherent sentence. His gaze snapped briefly to the other members of the Collective before landing on you again. “U—No worries! It was nothing, really. Kai.” He stammered over his words before his eyebrows raised. “My name. It’s–I’m, uh, Kai.”

Kai outstretched his hand again before he thought better of it and swiftly yanked it away, instead rubbing the back of his neck with it. If you weren’t so disoriented you’d laugh, but you just stare at him instead, the heat slowly creeping up your neck. You then realize how much of a mess you must look and quickly wipe your cheeks to get rid of any remaining tears. “Um,” you start, “I… I’m—”

Your name slices through the air like a knife. You jump, eyes darting over to where your mother stood behind the counter, a saccharine smile pulling her lips as she looked at the two of you. It felt as if you were watching a snake rattle its tail. Looking back to Kai, you offer him the tiniest of smiles before rushing away again, leaving him standing alone.

You’re not quite sure when the obsession with magic started. Maybe it was when you saw how carefree the Collective looked wielding it, as if it was second nature. Or, maybe it was when Kai had so graciously used it to help you out so you didn’t have to spend the remainder of the morning on your hands and knees. All you did know was that it had sunk its claws inside of you, gripping fiercely at your heart and making the hole inside of it larger.

Maybe it was when you started sneaking away from, or even downright rushing to finish, your duties so you could watch them practice magic. Maybe it was the rush you got watching their hands twist and jerk in specific movements for specific outcomes, green coils emerging from the motions.

But, you think it started when you lifted your hands into the air, daring to copy them.

At first, it was nothing, and frustration built up like a brick wall inside you. Then, that frustration turned to resentment, and that resentment into anger.

The Collective were here for a week so far and you weren't sure how long you had left before they departed. Why weren’t you born with magic like they were? If you had magic, it would change everything. No longer would everything rot around you when you could smother the rot all out—bring everything that has long been dead and gone back to life. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

You flicked your fingers in the air angrily as green smoked around the member’s fingers and not yours. Something a mix between and groan and a growl emerged from your throat instead. But, you were determined—and you refused to give up.

Perfecting the twists of your wrists and quick jerks of your fingers, you exhaled steadily and focused on getting the same result the member of the Collective did—cracking open a single walnut without touching it. The walnut sat on the floor in front of you mockingly and you scowled at it before focusing again.

“Come on,” you whispered to yourself. “Come on, come on. Work, please.” With one final twist of your wrist, you heard the distinct cracking sound and a soft gasp pushing between your lips. Your face broke into a smile and it took everything in you not to cheer at the top of your lungs. You watched the slightest hints of green feather away around the lengths of your fingers, so fast the color was barely distinguishable. A smile spread across your face from ear to ear.

“Yes!” you proclaimed, taking care to keep your voice low. A pleased laugh left your mouth and happy tears filled your lash line, “Yes!”

Your view snapped back to that of the Collective in the dining hall. You listened to the way they joked with each other and made water spin into wine—getting themselves drunk and red-faced. As your stare analyzed them, you noticed that Kai wasn’t among them.

It was odd, you thought, but it reminded you of the first time you saw him and how he sat apart from the others. How different he seemed from them. Just from watching the Collective members interact, you already didn’t like them. Maybe Kai felt the same.

You haven’t talked to him since that day—haven’t really seen him around besides quick glimpses, either. A peculiar feeling stirred in your chest and you weren’t sure what it meant. You just hoped that your paths would cross again.

When you weren’t at Freywolf Inn, you were at the craft guild with your nose buried in a book. You were there so often that you were on a first name basis with the stationer, Althea, a sweet lady who distinctly had the look that reminded you of a barn owl. In the entirety of your small village, it seemed Althea was the only one who wasn’t victim to the rot. You felt safe being around her—and she always remarked how much you were like a daughter to her.

She let you freely borrow the books she received or binded and even let you hang out behind the counter while she dealt with artisans and people wealthier than you could ever imagine who came to see her from all over the world. You remember asking her one day why people came from all over to see her wares.

“Not that they’re bad,” you quickly added, leaning the open book onto your thighs as you looked up at her from your hiding spot underneath the counter. She threw you a witty smile over her shoulder from the press she was at, hair the color of cinnamon sticks falling over her shoulder. The two of you felt as if you were moving at the same speed—you barely realized the fact that streaks of white slowly became more prevalent in her hair. “I mean, this is just such a small village… Wouldn’t they go to communes or the King’s Roots where the school is?”

Althea’s voice was nothing like you’ve heard before despite her saying how she grew up in the village. It had a strange accent and the way she spoke was like silk against the bark of a tree. Althea turned from where she worked to meet your questioning look, leaning over and resting her elbows on her knees so she was just about eye level with you, “Not… quite. See, I offer words that you won’t find on a shelf at the School of Pith. Illustrations they wouldn’t dare to let one of their students witness.”

You sat up more underneath the counter, completely abandoning the still open book in your lap. Your eyes shined with curiosity and Althea laughed—a sound that resembled crackling fire. “What kind of words?” you asked her.

“Knowledge, my owlet. There’s much more out there than the green thumbs of Pith—the royals and the wealthy.” Althea spat out green thumbs like food stuck on her tongue. You knew she never liked the Collective, but to this day, she still never told you why.

Althea stood and walked over to one of the shelves that you never touched, but was always only open for certain customers who came inside the guild hooded and quiet. Her finger ran along the spines as her white brows drew together, “There is a forest in this world, buried deep within another.” Her brows lifted as she found the book she was looking for and she made her way back to the counter.

You crawled from beneath the counter, twisting to watch as she laid the thick book down onto it and opened it to the beginning pages. You gently discarded the book you were reading off to the side of the counter, your focus now on the twirling of words and stirring drawings. Althea’s fingers gently caressed the pages. Her face was distant and longing, like recounting a memory that happened centuries ago. “The Forest That Watches, it is called,” she continued. “It’s white-barked trees have black eyes drawn onto them by people from long ago and its drooping pink leaves kiss the sacred ground.”

For a moment, Althea was quiet. You waited patiently, decidedly taking in the open page until she was ready to speak again. You could tell that this forest was a sensitive topic for her and you didn’t want to pry. You looked up at her when she wrapped her arm around your shoulders. She regarded you with a fond smile, “The forest has never been found, though, and it remains watching—waiting. Its pink leaves hide what’s inside; the Well of Life.”

With her free arm, Althea flipped through the pages until it landed on the Forest and the Well. “Woah,” you muttered, leaning forward to get a better look at it. Even from the illustrations you could tell how beautiful it was, feel the magic that radiated from it all.

You knew why it hadn’t been found yet—why it never could be. That much power in the wrong hands would be detrimental. But, you couldn’t help but wonder how different your world would be if it had access to the magical waters Althea was telling you about.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Althea breathed wistfully. “We’ll meet there one day… under the pink leaves and drink from the Well.” She returned her gaze to yours. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Then the turning of the sun won’t seem so fast.”

You sighed to yourself as your eyes fell back to the pages. You leaned your head into Althea’s side and she wrapped her arm around you tighter. “That would be nice,” you say.

In the darkness of the night, you let the shadows listen to your deepest wishes. And how you wish that it was Althea who plucked you from the streets instead of Lamia.

You wander Althea’s shelf now, hands running along the spines. Your fingertips still buzz with the magic you emitted earlier and you swear you can feel the contents of the shelved books calling out to you. Stilling, your fingers halt onto a book. The pull was just too strong to deny and when you turn your head to read the spine you find that the lettering has been rubbed away by time. You hum in slight annoyance before pulling the book from the shelf.

You can feel how Althea’s eyes trail you, especially when you walk over to the counter to take your familiar spot under it. In the corner of your eye, you can see her head tilt. “You feel different. And you’re quiet—quieter than usual,” she says quizzically.

Looking up from your book, a corner of your mouth raises. “Magic, Althea…” Your face breaks out into full-on excitement. “I have it! At least… sparks of it…”

Althea’s face doesn’t change from its quizzical expression. She shifts in her seat in front of the press. “Green?” she asked you, accusatory. You're unsure whether her accusatory tone was towards you or not.

The excitement swiftly falls from your face and you sit up more under the counter. “I… Yeah…” you mutter, avoiding her stare.

“It can’t be,” Althea states matter-of-factly. Her white brows furrow, and she looks away from you. “Can’t be…” she quietly trails off, more to herself than to you. “Green is… can’t be, can’t be. Doesn’t make sense.”

“I think it was green…” you pipe up, voice falling flat towards the end when her piercing black eyes snap to yours. “I didn’t really see the color, it all happened too fast.” It was true, but in your heart you wished it was green. You just wanted Althea to stop acting all fidgety and looking at you the way she did. You held the book in your arms closer to your chest and Althea’s gaze dropped to the movement.

Althea’s body physically relaxed from the tense state it was in, and if you looked close enough, you thought you could see the ghost of a smile on her lips. She hummed, suddenly pleased, “Magic… how enchanting. Have I told you about the White Fawn? Or, the prophecy of Eternal Winter?”

Your brows knitted at the change in her demeanor, but you concluded that it was better to leave it be. You shook your head at her question. “What about faeries?” Althea asked. 

“No,” you responded, “what are they?”

Althea slid to the ground in front of you, a grin pulling her mouth and exposing her teeth. She tapped the book you desperately clutched to your chest with an ivory finger. “Why don’t you take a look?”

You giggled to yourself, letting your arms flow in the harmony of the wind. You twirled and moved your body to the tune of nature—to the sounds of the forest’s edge behind you with its rustling leaves and chattering animals. The crown of sticks and fallen leaves fell down further onto your forehead and you laughed more. You didn’t even notice the single brilliant blue butterfly that landed on it and completed your costume.

If your mother saw you right now, she’d be furious. She had sent you out here on punishment with the intention of having you clean the stables behind the inn. Instead, you were dancing The Dance of Youth and pretending to be the Faerie Queen.

You spent all day yesterday reading Althea’s book on anything magical you could get your hands on, which mainly consisted of faeries and the realm they occupied. The books conjured up tales, legends, and myths of those more than human—people with glittering or colorful skin, wings, horns shooting from their heads, and even human-like versions of some of the animals you were already familiar with. It was completely enthralling reading about it all, and feeling all the magic pour off of the pages made you even more giddy. The magic the School of Pith had was nothing compared to the magic you had read about.

In a kingdom so sunny and full of bloom, A deadly winter approaches to cause mass doom. Drowns the kingdom in layers of snow, And becomes a place where nothing grows and no one goes.

You sang and danced around in the grass, pretending that you weren’t human at all, but faerie. That you were queen and the lands stretching from the edge of the forest to the inn was your kingdom. You wished you lived in Faerie where all the other magical creatures resided. That you and Althea could live there together, happy. Maybe even Kai could join you too. You giggled more at the wonderful thought.

Rustling in the forest drew your attention and you halted your dance. You leaned forward, listening closely and peering at the way the setting sun shined through the leaves, but then laughed at how ridiculous the notion was. Of course there was rustling, it’s a forest. You turned your attention back to the doll propped up on a rock, watching you. “Don’t look at me that way,” you say, twirling once more before making your way over to it.

The doll was a sightly thing made out of straw and sticks that Althea gave to you as a child. After all these years you still had it, and you cherished it deeply—making sure to keep it hidden from Lamia so she wouldn’t toss it out. You could hear her voice now, “A girl born in the summer of the thirteenth year of the King still playing with dolls? How preposterous!”

You hummed, bending down to retrieve the doll. “What an odd thing to say… Why should I find a man to marry in order to rule? I am the Faerie Queen. This is my kingdom, I shall rule it how I see fit!”

Too lost in your own dream-like world, you don’t notice the crunching of leaves beneath boots. “Well, all Queens need a King to stand beside them,” a voice said behind you. You spun in place, clutching the doll to your chest. Kai tilted his head at you, an easy smile playing on his lips. “Don’t you think?” he concluded.

His cloak was covered in ash. He and the other members of the Collective must have just returned from defeating the ash in the area for good. The heat immediately rushed to your face and your mind raced. Kai stood mere feet from you and you were stumbling over your own thoughts on what to say. You stood up straighter, trying to appear nonchalant, “I-I suppose…”

How embarrassing it was to be caught in such childlike endeavors—by Kai of all people! You moved the doll behind your back in an attempt to hide it, yet Kai’s gaze followed the action before flicking back up to your face. Behind him, you saw the rest of the Collective ride up on horses towards the inn, snickering at the two of you. “I see Kai has finally found someone willing to lay with him!” one shouted sarcastically.

Kai’s face soured and he looked over his shoulder at them with a glare before turning back to you. Face softening, he took a step towards you. “Ignore them,” Kai says, “They think they’re funny and they’re not.”

He stripped off his velvet green cloak and gave it a good shake away from where you stood. Ash clouded off of it in front of him, making the two of you cough a little. “Sorry,” Kai coughed, letting the cloak fall onto the rock next to him. “So… The Faerie Queen, huh? What’s that? Does that have something to do with your dance?”

You looked down to your feet in even more embarrassment. “It’s… It’s nothing.” You sat down on the rock that your doll was previously perched on. “I can’t believe you saw that…” you muttered under your breath.

“It looked like fun,” Kai laughed, and you looked up to catch the way his smile lingered as he looked down at you. “You seemed really into it, didn’t even notice me coming up behind you. You jumped like a caught baby deer.”

It was your turn to laugh. “A baby deer?” you asked and Kai nodded. “I guess you could say that, but you scared me!” Kai sat down next to you. He pointed his chin upwards, his eyes on the crown of sticks and leaves on your head. “Is that your crown, Faerie Queen?”

Biting your lip, you took the crown off and placed it in your lap. You toyed with the leaves in it. “You should make me one,” Kai says. You looked up at him. He was much closer than you originally thought he was, his shoulder brushing up against yours making you nervous. This close up you could see all the details of his face—his eyelashes that occasionally rested softly on round, smiling cheeks, and the curve of his plump, pinked lips. And his warm, brown eyes that never left your face. “You know… Queens and Kings and all of that…”

You smiled, looking away from him so he wouldn’t see how flustered he made you. “Really?” you questioned, braving his stare once again. “Yeah!” Kai exclaimed. He leaned closer to you, “Only if you see me fit, though, my queen.”

Kai took your hand in his and bent over to press his lips to the back of it, his eyes flicking up to look at you between his lashes. The action set you alight and you were so sure that Kai could feel the heat radiating off of your body. “I’ll have to put you to the test,” you mutter, barely managing to get your words out. “Only the best can rule with me by my side.”

You felt the vibrations of Kai’s laugh against your skin before he sat back up, his hand still grasping yours. His face was even closer to yours now. All it took was one of you to lean a little closer and your lips would meet. “Well, you’ll find that I am the best of the best,” Kai spoke, lowly. His eyes dropped to your lips and he swayed a little. “Nobody stands a chance against me.”

“Is that so?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Mhm,” Kai nodded. He closed the gap between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he used it to cup your cheek and lift your chin to kiss you deeper. You melted into his touch, your lips moving in sync with his. It was perfect, and the feeling of his soft lips on yours was like heaven.

“Why don’t you show her your magic wand!” a voice behind you and Kai yelled in your direction. The two of you broke apart, yet Kai’s hand remained on your cheek. Embarrassment crept up your neck and you could tell from Kai’s red ears that he was feeling the same way. He turned to where the voice came from, brows drawing together to form another dirty glare.

The rustling in the woods was more prevalent now and both you and Kai’s head snapped to the edge of the forest. Before your ears could even pick up on the growling, a large wolf jumped out from between the trees. Both you and Kai raced to your feet and he held a hand out to guide you behind him. You hugged your doll to your chest in fear. Besides his body being tense, Kai remained relatively calm.

The wolf growled and snapped at the two of you, its sharp teeth piercing the air as spit ran down the corners of its jaw. “Awe, he can’t even handle a single wolf… the Ash is going to smoke him out!” Members of the Collective laughed behind you, but Kai paid them no mind. He guided you slowly backwards and away from the edge of the forest.

Kai quickly glanced back at you and the way you trembled, terrified. “It must be hungry,” he said, focusing back on the wolf. Green swirls of magic wrapped around the two of you. “It probably smells the meat from the nearby butcher’s.”

“It wouldn’t kill us, right?” you asked with a shaky voice, already knowing how foolish the question was before finishing it. Kai looked over his shoulder at you again, his face the most serious you’ve seen it, “Make something scared and it’ll do just about anything to get rid of the feeling.”

Just as Kai turned his head back towards the wolf, it pounced at the two of you. Behind it, more wolves prowled out of the woods, snarling. You barely registered that the harrowing scream that filled your ears was your own before you were pushed to the ground.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion for once in your entire life. The members of the Collective who were snickering and poking fun at you and Kai jumped into action, spirals of green emerging from their fingertips. More of them piled out from the inn, along with Lamia. You don’t realize that a hand is grabbing your arm and lifting you to your feet before you’re being pushed out of the crossfire.

All you see is green. At least, at first.

Then, splatters of red cover your vision. The screams and cracking of bones fill your ears and bodies fly through the air. Hot tears run down your cheeks and you close your eyes. Then, there is complete and utter silence.

The silence lasts for a moment before all sound comes rushing back to you so fast it felt like your ears were bleeding. There was screaming and crying and more cracking of bones set into place. You opened your eyes to see that the once green pasture you danced in was covered in red—red so dark it was almost black, and disfigured bodies and torn limbs were everywhere.

You stood up from the mud, eyes scanning through the green in the air in search of Kai. When you found him, tending to one of his members whose leg was missing, you breathed a sigh of relief. He was covered in blood and viscera, but it looked like he was unharmed. Barely taking a step in his direction, nails dug into your arm, bringing about a sharp sting that you were all too familiar with.

Body swinging in the opposite direction of Kai, you came face to face with your mother. Her hand reached up to roughly grab your chin. “What have you done?!” She screamed at you.

You glanced around you, never hearing her this angry before. More tears slid out of your eyes and to the dirt below and you tried to talk around the lump in your throat. You took in the destruction all around you, at the dead wolves that were now being carried towards the butcher who stood a couple feet from you. His voice caught in the air, “...a lamb, yeah.” You looked at how many lives the Collective lost in a sheer matter of minutes—and how it was all your fault. “It… I—” you started.

“You brainless child!” Your mother’s hand striked you so hard across the face that you fell back down to the mud at your feet. “Do you know how bad this is for business? Members of the Collective are dead on my soil!” You held your searing cheek with the hand that wasn’t still clutching onto your straw doll as you looked up at your mother with tearful eyes.

“I… I didn’t m—”

“Shut up. Go. I never want to see your vile face again!” Lamia screamed, her wrinkled face turning as red as the sunset behind her. She pointed a shaky finger away from the inn. You stood up on weak legs, your knees shaking. “But—but, Mom—” you cried.

“Go!”

You gave her one last pleading look before taking off, stumbling over your own feet. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t need sight for the place you were running to. You could find Althea in the dark, bound and soundless, if you had to.

You pushed open the doors of the guild and fell to the floor just in front of the counter, startling Althea and the customer she was engaging with. Your chest heaved and your tears formed a puddled at your scraped and dirty knees. “S-She… They’re all…” Your whole body shook and you couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.

Althea rushed to you, taking you into her arms and completely abandoning her customer. You caught a glimpse of them from Althea’s chest and didn’t know what you saw… Scaly skin that caught the light before a clawed hand pulled the hood further over their face, maybe? Althea shushed you and rubbed comforting circles into your back. “It’s okay, my owlet, it’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

Love is a very wretched thing. It lets in the rot and the maggots and the ash. But, you still couldn’t help scraping off the corruption and placing it gently in your heart anyway. You couldn’t let go of the thought that maybe it could be beautiful, that it could be worth the cracked skin.

Instead of your usual hiding spot under the counter next to where Althea worked, you were hidden away between shelves at the back of the guild, alone. A book sat open in your lap, but your mind was too distracted to read any of the words in it. You heard the soft pattering of feet along the hardwood and turned to the sound.

Kai stood before you, completely distraught and still covered in blood from the wolf attack.

You waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. You moved the open book in your lap to the side as you sat up. Your lips parted as you thought of something to say. “T-Thank you,” you said finally. “You saved my life.”

Kai’s eyes weren’t the warm brown that they were earlier. Something shifts in them and you swallow thickly. They were cold, lifeless. Kai just nodded and slumped down to the floor next to you. An awkward silence filled the air and you didn’t know what to say to resolve it.

“How did you find me?” you asked in a meek voice. Kai’s eyes shifted over to you from where they looked out the window to the dark sky. “I saw you run here,” he says plainly. “Followed you.”

Silence penetrates the air before he speaks again. “They kicked me out,” Kai says, his lifeless eyes still boring into you. “They kicked me out of the School of Pith.”

Your mouth falls open in shock and you rush to apologize, saying how it was all your fault, but Kai just shakes his head and looks away from you. He’s still in his Collective uniform, but now the light, forest-green of his velvet cloak seems dull and dark. It doesn’t help that it’s now splattered with blood. “I guess it was my last chance.”

There’s no inflection in his voice, nothing to show whether the result makes him sad or angry or even annoyed. His face is expressionless. The only hint to his inner turmoil is the way his fingers pull harshly at the seams of his dirty white pants. The tips of them are reddened, like he’s been at it for a while now.

Kai turned back to you and reached a hand up to gently rub his thumb along your bruised cheek. His gaze then dipped to the book on the floor. “What are you reading?”

You hand the book to him, the page opened onto the legend of the White Fawn that Althea told you about. Kai hummed, “You don’t really believe in all that stuff, do you? This myth?”

“You don’t?” you asked incredulously. “You have magic, but don’t believe in a white deer that brings about luck and fortune?”

For the first time that night, you manage to get Kai to chuckle. “I suppose you’re right…” he trailed. “I might not be the firmest believer in myths and legends, but I do know a lot about them. We learned about them at the school—more things than you’ll read about in any book.”

Kai glances at you and catches the way your eyes light up. A smile pulls at the corner of his lips. The light still isn't back in his eyes—and his smile doesn't reach them either—but, it’s a start. You look at him as if he just hung all the stars in the pitch black sky.

“You want me to teach you?” Kai asks, and you desperately nod your head.

‎ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏  ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏͏ 𐦍 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏NEXT ⤇

[ kipo’s note . . . ] wow… a lot happened… you see why it had to be almost 8k words now?? lmaoo i had to set everything up! but tell me how you feel about it all!! what do you think about the faerie realm, or the myths of the forest that watches and the well of life? the white fawn and the prophecy of eternal winter??? lemme know all your thoughts, don’t be shy!!! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺.𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

🏷️﹙ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @hyukascampfire @xylatox @ghstzzn @izzyy-stuff @sunoosgfv @jihyokat @whosserina @jellymochii @innocygnet @sumsumtingz @riribelle @yeoningz @minaateez @beombunni @jiryunn @lvrs-street2mmorrow @everythingvirgoes @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @usuallyunlikelyfox @blossommi @tinycatharsis

© jjunbug - all rights reserved. do not repost on any social media or sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[feroluce]

I've only recently started having my own thoughts about Emanator!Sampo and I think my favorite version of this is that he is technically an Emanator, it's just that he doesn't talk about it because Aha is a dick who only blesses people that don't want it and Sampo hates it here dkjxkdkdck

Aha blessed the Mourning Actors! A whole faction of people who have specifically made it their life's mission to resist Elation! THEY made a literal worm THEIR Emanator just to see if it would be accepted into the Genius Society! And when it wasn't, Aha just as easily killed it and tossed it aside! So I feel like there is a good possibility that Aha looked down at Sampo, this little oddball who doesn't seem to even like Epsilon or a lot of the Masked Fools and was like.

Hey.

You know what would be really really funny.

And I feel like being an Emanator wouldn't even be a plus for Sampo, because of how he operates. Sampo excels at blending in; he managed to smuggle himself onto a planet

that had been isolated for 700 years,

with only one (1) single city on it,

and going even further, he snuck himself into the Underground,

where the population is even more sparse,

and STILL. Not a single accusation of him being an alien! Not even after the Astral Express lands and proves that interstellar space travel is possible! Sampo is so thoroughly ingrained into Belobog that yeah, some people admit they don't know his origins, but none of it ever comes with the question of whether he actually is a Belobog native or not. Sampo knows exactly how to blend himself into his surroundings in the most subtle way possible. And being an Emanator, something far more powerful than any normal human or Pathstrider could ever hope to be, would only throw in a massive extra variable for him. Sampo would have to be so so careful to keep a lid on his Emanator traits, to keep up the appearance of being totally normal and average at all times. It doesn't help him at all.

And this part is pure indulgence, but I love taking Aha's closeness with mortals, and THEIR tendency to take human form, and twisting it into a case of THEM using Sampo as a vessel.

I want Aha to look at Sampo the same way all of us look at Sampo. A chew toy. A plaything. Something to shove through the meat grinder. Aha thinks Sampo is hilarious and a funny, silly little guy, and THEY want to put him in Situations just to see what he does. Sampo is not a fan.

This though, this is what makes Sampo so wildly entertaining as a vessel. Because Aha knows that Sampo does not want to be a vessel, does not even want to be an Emanator, and THEY find it SO much fun to watch the mental gymnastics he has to pull to convince himself he's ok with it, this is fine actually, because he's not exactly about to tell off a literal god. He doesn't feel like getting a smiting today, please and thank you.

Because squeezing yourself into a human vessel is so different than merely adopting a human disguise, there's already a human soul in there, it's kind of a tight fit. If Sampo doesn't make room, doesn't all but dissociate right out of his own body, it could cause. Consequences.

And so, Aha always gives a warning, just to watch him squirm.

It begins with the sound of bells.

Just little ones, at first. Small, clinking little sounds that could even be considered nice. Something almost gentle, like a wind chime in a pleasant breeze on a warm day. This is the signal for the countdown.

Sampo breathes in, breathes out. Makes himself as small as possible within his own body.

The bells rise and multiply, tinkling wind chimes give way to sleigh bells, to shopkeepers bells, the sound of something inevitable approaching, something entering.

Sampo breathes in, breathes out. Dilutes himself, weaker and weaker concentrations.

The bells rise and rise, multiply and multiply, celebration and tragedy resonating in the sound of church bells, ringing bright and loud, the sounds of weddings and funerals both the same.

Sampo breathes in, breathes out. Becomes like smoke, like vapor. Hollows himself out.

Empty, empty, empty until he echoes, like a bell, like something with the sole purpose of being shaken and rattled around, a thing to be struck, the sounds jarring and punched out and gasping and piercing the air, the lung, the eardrum.

Sampo breathes in.

Beaten he rings, bashed in he sings.

Aha breathes out.

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

Chasm: Curse of Kaine (Vol. 1/2024), #3.

Writer: Steve Foxe; Penciler and Inker: Andrea Broccardo; Colorist: Brian Reber; Letterer: Joe Caramagna

[good-beanswrites]

Fe Aspec Week Day 4: Acceptance

This week on I Accidentally Made Myself Sad With My Own Angst :( As much as I know Forsyth would be the most accepting person in all of Valentia, I think his own insecurities/mindset would cause a bit of tension during his childhood with Python. It has a happy ending but I wanted to explore just a bit of that first...

“Python!” 

Forsyth’s tiny hands trembled, clutching the gift that he’d bought with his very own money. His father didn't need to know.

Python scrambled down the big oak tree to meet him. He tugged at the dress his father probably made him wear for the holiday. His hair had already come loose from it's braid, likely caught on the twigs and leaves of the tree. Forsyth waited anxiously at it's base for him to come down.

When he arrived, Forsyth shoved the box forward. He startled both of them with the force of it.

“I – I – I have this. For you. Will you – I mean – I would –” Forsyth’s cheeks burned red. It was clear what he was asking. There would be no other reason you’d give someone a perfectly wrapped package of sweets on the Day of Devotion unless you were asking them the question.

Python looked down at it. The two had been friends for so long, it took only a second for Forsyth to understand exactly what it meant. 

“Oh…” He felt his stomach twist up in a knot. His throat started to constrict. “I know Father doesn’t like you, but he doesn’t much like anyone. S-so we can make it work!”

“Fors…”

“We could keep it a secret!” Then, in desperation, “we could – we could run away together!”

“Fors!” Python whined. “C’mon, you know we’re too young for that!” With one hand he took the chocolates, and the other took Forsyth's arm. “We’re supposed to be climbing trees and playing pranks on Teacher – not doing gushy grown-up love stuff.”

Forsyth bit his lip. He didn’t think it was gushy at all. He didn’t trust his voice to speak; with one word he may just start bawling right here. The last thing he needed was to be scolded for being so emotional. 

Python beamed as if he hadn’t just shattered Forsyth’s heart into a million pieces. “Let’s just take it slow, okay? We’ll have plenty of time for all that when we’re older, okay?”

He coaxed a small nod from Forsyth.

“Speaking of! I heard Teach left the schoolhouse window open – have I got the perfect plan! We’ll share the chocolates after, okay? You’re my best friend, we should split them.”

I don’t want to split them. Forsyth let himself be tugged along. I wanted to give them all to you. To give everything to you.

He grit his teeth as they ran. He wasn’t the type to accept defeat after a small setback like this. So, Python wasn’t ready. That was fine. One day he would be. And Forsyth would be there. It was like every book he’d read: the steadfast knight would get the beautiful lover, if he was just patient enough.

He said a quick prayer to Mila, that one day they’d stop being friends, and true love would win out.

—

“Python!”

Forsyth’s hands trembled, his fists balled up in fury. 

“I am sick and tired of this.”

“Oh you’re tired of this? Then quit fucking confessing every single year. Every year it’s the same speech, and the same shitty plan to run away together. We’re not in some fairy tale, Fors. Just give it up.” Python moved to take a sip from his drink, turning his back. Though they’d both come of age, it wasn’t ale. Though it wasn’t ale, they both spoke as loudly as if they’d each had a barrel to drink. It was a good thing Python’s father was out all night; there was no one in the tiny house to hear them argue.

Forsyth grabbed the cup away before he could take a sip. It earned him a hard look, but a direct one. “I’m not tired of confessing, I’m tired of this type of disrespect!” He placed the drink down a foot away. “You can’t just be honest with me and tell me why I’m not good enough for you – it’s infuriating!”

“I am honest. I’ve told you, this has nothing to do with you. It’s me who–”

“Oh-ho, don’t give me that tired cliche! Every year, it’s another cryptic excuse, another roundabout lie!” He flung his hands in wild gestures, his voice pitching. “You say you’re not ready for commitment, yet you spend every day with me regardless. You say you would make a terrible housemate, yet you stay over at my home for weeks at a time. You say you’re not ready to be with someone, yet I catch word that you shared a bed with the innkeeper!”

“What, you jealous or something?”

“That is exactly what I am. And how dare you act like I’m the crazy one for it!” Tears threatened his eyes, but he pushed through. “I have been by your side your entire life, looking out for you, caring for you, giving all of myself over to you! And here you are, laughing in the face of my love! Like - like it’s another one of your jokes!

“Oh, you're jealous, huh? So is that why you do it? You do all that for me just to get laid at the end of the day? Well if you’d said that sooner, I would have happily –”

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Then what do you mean?”

“It doesn’t make any damned sense, Python!”

“It does, if you would just pipe down and listen when I –”

“Pipe down?” 

“Yeah! If you’d let me finish a damned sentence this will all make sense!”

“Fine then, go ahead and finish – give me one good reason why you don’t want to be with me!”

“When you’re acting like this I could give you a hundred!” Python swatted his cup away, spilling the drink all over the floor. He stormed out of the room.

A heavy silence fell over the house. Forsyth gathered his things. He left. He finally let his tears fall.

It was simple, he decided. All he needed to do was accept the fact that this relationship was going nowhere. Python didn't love him, and he'd just need to imagine whatever reasons he could. They should simply end things before they got any more hurt. 

End our friendship...

He cried through the night, unable to even muster a word to Mila. 

—

“Python!”

Forsyth’s hand was steady as it took the man’s shoulder. The pair locked eyes. 

“Run away with me.”

The wind rustled the leaves overhead. Usually the area was bustling with chaos as the new building was erected, but Python was the only one to stay back today. Forsyth would have teased him for the irony, if it hadn’t presented him with the perfect opportunity to ask his question.

Python rolled his eyes. “Har-har. I thought today was Day of Devotion, not Flostym Fools'…”

“Huh?” Forsyth’s expression flashed with confusion, then horror. “O-oh! Not like that, of course! Oh gods, I meant… the Deliverance.”

He spread his hands. “It’s clear we’ll never get the approval we seek to join. So I propose we do it in secret. Everyone will be distracted by the village festivities tonight. If we don’t come home right away, everyone will assume it’s for… the festivities. It will give us a reasonable head start. We won’t need to worry about them catching up to us by the time they finally realize we’ve gone.”

He looked eagerly to Python. 

“Heh, using all the hype around love to make our escape... you’re a true ally after all, Fors!”

Forsyth’s look soured. “L-listen. I swear, I would never ask you that again. I mean, we got over that years ago. I nearly lost you to that argument, and I shall never make the same mistake again. I know how much pain I put you through, and I would never dream of –”

“Hey. I know. You had a lot on your mind, then.” He let out a loud sigh. “Which is why I’m gonna come along with you. Somebody’s gotta help you find that special someone, right?”

“Do you mean it? Wait, what is that supposed to mean?”

With a hearty laugh, Python pulled him into a hug. Forsyth held him close. Reality may not follow a path like the perfect little fairy tales he read as a child, but that made it no less perfect.

“So… that’s a yes?”

Python leaned back so he could study his face. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

“W-were you not?”

“Eh, I’m not serious about anything…” He offered his hand. “But I’m in. I’m always in.”

Forsyth accepted it, clasping it within both of his. He found himself too choked up for words, though he didn’t care if anyone saw him cry. He wiped tears from his cheeks and smiled at Python’s kindhearted teasing.

He thanked the gods that they would never stop being friends.

[blujayonthewing]

BBEG, doing a little straight-from-the-DM exposition: so, my whole deal is that I, Calla, was cursed by the goddess Suni, and now I'm seeking my vengeance upon her; I'm going to destroy her, because I hate her

limerick, the literal next session, explaining what we know so far to an NPC: we saw Calla again, she's been reborn somehow-- and also we learned her True Name, which is Suni

me:

[byanyan]

took a page out of moon's book and started playing around with the idea of illustrated icons but i am Unsure

[yoakkemae]

grayson (2004)

blockbuster: nightwing. i'm so glad you're here. nightwing: what did you do? blockbuster: i'm just tidying up loose ends, but this gives me a perfect opportunity to talk to you about your future... which, as it happens, is going to look a lot like this. nightwing: she's dead. give me one good reason why i shouldn't kill you. blockbuster: there isn't one, nightwing. not one. that's the best part. nor is there a single good reason for me to harm a hair on your head. so you're dick grayson by day, who cares? it's a useful piece of information, but it's not the real secret. nightwing: if you go near any of them, i swear to god, i'll -- blockbuster: oh, yes, i know, i know. that's the secret, the essential truth of your nature. you could take every beating i could dish out. you might even enjoy them. you have absolutely no regard for your personal safety. but the people around you--well! that's a different matter. isn't it? i'll take out the people you care about--hell, even strangers you stand next to on the street--you won't be able to shake someone's hand without marking them for death! do you like being alone, dick? nightwing: shut up, rolly, just shut up! blockbuster: i'll make sure you can't save any of them. i'll make sure you relive, over and over, your failure to save my mother! which has now become your failure to save your relationship--your circus--the residents of your building--ms. michaels-- tarantula: get out of the way, nightwing. all you have to do is get out of my way. blockbuster: but he won't. don't you see, you stupid girl? this very moment, he's thinking of how to save me from you! even my life is more important to him than his own! and that's how i'll take him apart. loved one by loved one, innocent by innocent. it will never stop. nightwing: [internal: he's right.] blockbuster: it's never going to stop. nightwing: [internal: it's never gonna stop.] blockbuster: i can keep this up forever. [nightwing, internal: it's never gonna stop.] every loved one, every stranger... [nightwing, internal: every mistake i make, every life i risk... it's never gonna stop... ...never gonna stop. never... stop it... STOP.] tarantula: [shoots blockbuster dead.]

vs

taylor #96 (2022)

blockbuster: nightwing is dick grayson. all this time fighting the city's most frustrating rat, and there was another pest behind the mask. like a russian nesting doll on vermin. still, at least i only have to kill one man to be rid of two problems. nightwing: you think i'll go down easy? blockbuster: perhaps not. electrocutioner. brutale. merge on my location. bring more soldiers. nightwing: [internal: that sounds like it will take a few minutes...and that's all i need] batgirl: can you hear me, nightwing? what's happening? your heart rate is elevated and i've lost visuals. nightwing: yeah. sorry. my mask took a hit. batigirl: what? nightwing: it's blockbuster. batgirl: he's there? i'll divert some of the people in the field to-- nightwing: no. haven needs to be evacuated and we're running four separated anti-crime operations. everyone is needed elsewhere. and, honestly, i'm okay with taking him down alone. i feel like i've put this off long enough. i am so sick of men like you. men who could do anything and choose to hurt people. men who have everything and still want to take more. this city deserves so much better-- blockbuster: i am this city. nightwing: ugh. i bet you practise that little catchphrase at home. it probably sounds convincing when you get out of the shower and say it to the mirror, roland, but it doesn't make it true. the truth is, this city is done with you. [...] nightwing: sounds like bludhaven is putting out your fires, blockbuster. the city is fighting you. and we know everything. your arms deal on the docks is done. your people there are in custody. whatever poison you were bringing in on that truck won't ever see the streets. the flash has seen to that. the people being trafficked by cargo plane will be safely on the ground now, thanks to the titans. even boss maroni walked straight into a trap. and weren't you waiting on backup? [...] blockbuster: you're not the first in this city to try to stand against me. those who've crossed me are still out there. they're ringing the city. weighted down in the harbour. but your punishment won't end when your lungs fill with the sea because i know who you are now. and after you're gone, i will break everyone who's ever helped you, dick. the mayor. bruce wayne. your precious titans. everyone you've ever known. everyone you've ever loved. i will find them. all of them. and they will hurt before they die. nightwing: you think you... you think you know who i am? you don't know nightwing, you don't know dick grayson. or you'd know that there's no way in hell either one of us... would let you hurt our friends!

[docholligay]

Do you think authors sometimes don't realize how their, uh, interests creep into their writing? I'm talking about stuff like Robert Jordan's obvious femdom kink, or Anne Rice's preoccupation with inc*st and p*dophilia. Did their editors ever gently ask them if they've ever actually read what they've written?

Firstly, a reminder: This is not tiktok and we just say the words incest and pedophilia here.

Secondly, I don't know if I would call them 'interests' so much as fixations or even concerns. There are monstrous things that people think about, and I think writing is a place to engage with those monstrous things. It doesn't bother me that people engage with those things. I exist somewhere within the whump scale, and I would hope no one would think less of me just because sooner or later I like to rough a good character up a bit, you know? It's fun to torture characters, as a treat!

But, anyway, assuming this question isn't, "Do writers know they're gross when I think they are gross" which I'm going to take the kind road and assume it isn't, but is instead, "Do you think authors are aware of the things they constantly come back to?"

Sometimes. It can be jarring to read your own writing and realize that there are things you CLEARLY are preoccupied with. (mm, I like that word more than concerns). There are things you think about over and over, your run your mind over them and they keep working their way back in. I think this is true of most authors, when you read enough of them. Where you almost want to ask, "So...what's up with that?" or sometimes I read enough of someone's work that I have a PRETTY good idea what's up with that.

I've never read Robert Jordan and I don't intend to start (I think it would bore me this is not a moral stance) and I've really never read Rice's erotica. In erotica especially I think you have all the right in the world to get fucking weird about it! But so, when I was young I read the whole Vampire Chronicles series. I don't remember it perfectly, but there's plenty in it to reveal VERY plainly that Anne Rice has issues with God but deeply believes in God, and Anne Rice has a preoccupation with the idea of what should stay dead, and what it means to become. So, when i found out her daughter died at the age of six, before Rice wrote all of this, and she grew up very very Catholic' I said, 'yeah, that fucking checks out'.

Was Rice herself aware of how those things formed her writing? I think at a certain point probably yes. The character of Claudia is in every way too on the nose for her not to have SOME idea unless she was REAL REAL dense about her own inner workings. But, sometimes I know where something I write about comes from, that doesn't mean I'm interested in sharing it with the class. I would never ever fucking say, 'The reasons I seem to write so much of x as y is that z happened to me years ago' ahaha FUCK THAT NOISE. NYET. RIDE ON, COWBOY.

But I've known some people in fandom works who clearly have something going on and don't seem to realize it. Or they're very good at hiding it. Based on the people I'm talking about I would say it's more a lack of self-knowledge, and I don't even mean that unkindly. I have, in many ways, taken myself down to the studs and rebuilt it all, so I unfortunately am very aware of why I do and write the things I do most of the time. It's extremely annoying not to be able to blame something. I imagine it must be very freeing. But it ain't me, babe.

Anyway, a lot of words to say: Maybe! But that might not stop them from writing it, it might be a useful thing for them to engage with, and you can always just not read it.

Also, we don't censor words here.

[silknspice]

BAD LIARS —

fake dating hockey! vi x reader | fluff, angst, fake dating trope, romcom-ish, smut (mdni 18+) wc 20.8k

synopsis: following the release of four outdated love letters, vi vanderson is more than willing to start fake dating the girl of her dreams as a way to get rid of your clingy ex (and her ex hookup): caitlyn kiramman. 

content: fake dating trope, some fake insta/snap stories/smau content!, language, betrayal, makeup smut (kissing, fingering, oral, mdni!), clingy ex!caitlyn, college au, lying, miscommunication

soundtrack: if you let me (alina baraz) | lowkey (niki) | lovers (anna of the north) | see through (amelia moore) | fetish (selena gomez) | kill bill (sza) | all of the girls you loved before (taylor swift) | two weeks (fka twigs) | everything happens for a reason (madison beer) | every summertime (niki)

Three-fourths of your favorite cereal is absolutely disgusting. 

The deep blue circles start off sweet, but leave a bitter aftertaste that stains your tongue. The auburn ones aren’t all that bad, but they get too soggy, disintegrating into grains that fade into the now colored milk. The chestnut brown discs are so scarce that their taste is completely forgettable; you swear there’s only three in each batch. 

Had these been the only flavors, you’d chuck the box in the trash and scold your best friend-roommate Mel for even bringing them into your shared apartment. But that one-fourth of strawberry pink circles make it worth it every time. They’re sweet on your tongue, sweet on your heart, swee—

“What’s with the look?” 

Mel’s concern-filled voice brings you back to the present, making you smile sheepishly like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The girl slides her white puffer jacket on, keys jingling in her hand as she awaits an answer. 

“Nothin’, just ate a blue one.” Your mouth flattens, attempting to squeeze the bitter flavor from your tastebuds. 

The gold-eyed girl hums. She blinks as her arms cross and she takes two, then three cautious steps towards you. Her gaze flickers faster than light, attempting to read every inch of your body language. 

“You know,” she starts, sitting down to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “If you need to talk about it, I’m here. Don’t feel like you have to suffer in silence.” 

That makes you snort, soft reassuring laughter following as you shake your head with confidence.

“Suffer? Mel, I broke up with Caitlyn, not the other way around.” 

“Yeah, but transitioning from a relationship to a peace-abundant single life is hard nonetheless.. unless you’re ready to jump to the rebound stage?” Her full brows raise in persuasion as she finishes her sentence. In her mind, getting laid would solve any problems that the complex inner-workings of your mind could craft. 

The question catches you off guard once more. Not that it should. It’d be a big fat lie to claim the idea never crossed your mind. In fact, it planted itself inside your brain like a bug and dug all the way down to memories you’d attempted to forget. Down to highschool of all places (God forbid). Down to those four names that perfectly defined the word ‘desire’ for you. Ellie Williams, Caitlyn Kiramman, Sky Young, and Violet Vanderson. 

Ellie, a fellow camp counselor at Wildflower Haven your junior year, took hold of your heart on day one. Sneaking out of your cabins at night, skinny dipping in the camp lake, even making matching bracelets that you claimed you’d ‘wear forever’. Your crush blossomed at superluminal speed. But before you knew it, camp was coming to an end and you were saying goodbye forever. 

Caitlyn Kiramman. A classic senior-year-of-high-school crush that didn’t develop until the first semester of college sophomore year. Your now ex, who is the last person you want to think about. High five to your high school self for predicting that one, though. 

Sky Young, a skating instructor at your local ice rink: Polar Peaks. After you’d fallen on your face for the fourth time and were ready to give up, you saw chestnut brown curls above you, decorating one of the friendliest smiles you’d seen to date. She helped you rise to your feet and held your hand for a lap around the rink. Unfortunately, you were a sophomore when she was a senior, and a week later you returned to the rink to find out she’d officially left for college. Not that there was anything between you two. Still, you could dream. 

And last, but certainly not least, Violet Vanderson. The star athlete of your school’s hockey team then and now. Sculpted muscles, a singular tattoo that multiplied quickly after graduation, and a killer smile that could put a halt to the gears turning in any girl’s head.

It was a simple interaction. You were the first one to read your final poem in front of your literature class with clammy palms, a shaky voice, and a dream. As you finished, looking at attentive students like a deer in headlights, Vi was the first to clap. It was enthusiastic, loud, and genuine. And like always, other students followed suit. 

Vi didn’t know you. She knew of you, the bits and pieces she could gather. You were somewhat of a social butterfly, you smelled of strawberry and vanilla every time you passed her seat, you were mind-consumingly beautiful, and you could write. Unfortunately for the both of you, your paths didn’t seem to cross any further than that.

And so, you wrote a letter.

Four love letters, to be exact. Each one in the high point of your crushes, attempting to soothe the longing feeling in your gut that ached for you to do something. You wrapped them all the same, in either a dark blue, chestnut brown, auburn, or pink envelope with a bow on the seal, even going as far as addressing and stamping them. Of course, they were never meant to be sent, which led them to their hiding place in a rose-red cylindrical fabric box that was stashed away into the depths of your closet. 

“C’mon, you’re hot and single again. I have some good contestants–”

“I don’t know Mels,” you cut her off with a look too mixed to decipher. “But really, I’m good,” you reassure, taking another spoonful of cereal into your mouth. 

Yuck–  another blue one. 

“Sevika, what the fuck!”

Gert’s complaint was drowned out by skates shuffling against the abused ice. Players clad in blue and white practice jerseys messily fill the space, fighting to keep up with Sevika. The woman speeds past, guiding the puck along the ice and slamming it into the goal.

The sounds of hurried feet and grunts subside, leaving breathless panting and shared looks of confusion across the teammates’ faces. But one pair of skates never slows, coming up behind the buff figure and skidding to a stop.

“The hell are you doing?” Vi scolds the woman with a scrunched up face of judgement. This is the sixth time Sevika’s pissed her off this week and it’s starting to get on her last nerve. “You’re hogging the puck. You’re not the only person on this team, in a game this would’ve–” 

“Get the hell out of my face,” the burly woman throws back, shoulder checking Violet hard enough to make her break her cool, squaring her shoulders and raising her voice with a “Sevika,”. 

“Vanderson! Grove!” Coach Talis’s voice echos throughout the rink, making the hockey players stop in their tracks. 

“Unless you two want to run extra drills: cut it out. Now.” 

“Is it just me, or is she being more of a fucking pain than usual?” Vi asks the woman across the locker room rhetorically, slipping on a clean compression shirt and plopping down on the bench to knot her laces. 

“I told you dude, she wants to be you, or at least take your spot.” the blonde sighs, pulling her braided hair from under the pullover she just slipped on. “As long as she’s taking her anger our on you and not me..” She continues, and the pinkette throws her a scoff before the blonde continues. 

“You know if you need stress relief, you could always go back to Kiramman. Heard the pretty girl called things off with her.”

And although her teammate only muttered the words, they set off blaring alarms within Vi’s mind. Because she can’t go back to hooking up with Caitlyn, she lied to her friends saying the two of them were ‘too busy’ when in reality Vi called things off because she couldn’t stop thinking about the one girl she knew nothing about. You. And suddenly, you and Cait were dating. Suddenly, she sure as hell couldn’t tell anybody the real reason she stopped seeing her. 

“Nah Abby, not happening,” she simply replies, attempting to sound as bored with the topic as possible.

“Fine, stay dry. I’m just throwing things out there,” the blonde puts her hands up in defense, shutting her locker as she walks towards the exit. “Later!” she waves before slipping out of the door. 

A beat passes. Then two. Then three. Finally, she takes a deep breath, leans down to unzip her practice bag, and reaches in. 

And out Vi pulls a pink envelope, decorated with a bow perfectly placed on the front and her name adorned with hearts on the back. 

The force of cool air coats your face as you walk throughout campus, ranting on the phone to Mel about your latest hell of a group project. “And it’s not even.. even.. sorry, I’m getting a call. Talk at home!” 

You smile at the friendly contact photo covering your screen, rounding some greenery as the parking lot comes into view. With a click of the ‘accept’ button, you're greeted with the gentlest of voices. “Hey!” 

A soft chuckle leaves your lips.

“Hey little man, look I’m about to drive home so I can’t talk for long,” you blinked a few times, realizing you went further from your car and spinning on your heels. 

“No worries,” he starts, “I just wanted to let you know that last week I was helping clean your old room and I found some letters, looks like you forgot to send them out? They were stamped and addressed and everything, so I just sent them for you.”

Ekko continues, giving some speech about God knows what.

But you can’t hear any of it, because the ringing in your ears is deafening.

No. 

It takes a few beats of your pure, shocked silence before your brain powers back on. And once it does, every inch of your mind is racing.

Okay, you thought to yourself. Ellie’s letter was addressed to camp, so there’s no chance of it getting to her anytime soon, if at all. Sky’s been gone for years, but you can’t remember the address you put down for her letter. Violet– shit. She definitely has hers. 

Oh. No. No, no, no. 

Your body feels oh so fragile and suddenly the idea of fleeing the country doesn’t sound entirely heinous, because only a few feet away stands Caitlyn.

Her blue hair is in a messy ponytail and her outfit is less perfected than usual, urgently thrown on. She’s searching, a determined expression plastered on her face as her gaze flickers through crowds of students.

For a moment, you pray it’s a misunderstanding. You pray she’s in a rush to find someone else, because there’s absolutely no way your ex was mailed a love letter you wrote in highschool. 

But your eyes trail down to her hand wrapped around that beautifully decorated navy envelope, and your knees are seconds away from buckling.  

“Yeah, yeah uh huh that’s great and all Ekko but I’ve really gotta go. Call me another time, okay?” you hit the ‘end call’ button with more force than needed and dash to your car. 

As you swing open the car door and drop inside with a slam shut, you can feel it. The way your heart pounds against your chest as if it’s trying to escape. That achy feeling that crawls its way up the back of your throat and transforms into tears that prickle at the corners of your worried eyes.

You shake your head, putting the key in the ignition and immediately shifting to reverse, not tending to your clouded vision. 

“Woah!” 

The somewhat-familiar yelp has your foot slamming on the breaks. Your face scrunches in confusion, the sleeve of your coat wiping your eyes just enough to make out the empty space behind your car as you look in your rearview camera. You’re confused, ready to switch the car back into ‘reverse’ before a tap tap at your window makes you gasp. 

Violet stands there, looking relaxed as an almost smug smile coats her lips. 

Your face distorts, torn between speeding off and giving in to her request, but before you make a decision, your manicured hands are rolling the window down. Cool air flows inside, but it loses to the subtle warmth that fills your body from the way the pinkette is eyeing you. 

“You know you’re supposed to check behind you before pulling out, right?” she teases.

The question itself is mocking, but the glint in her eye and how she leans down to relax a forearm on the car tells you to let it slide. 

“Right,” you agree. “Right, sorry about that. I just really need to leave so–” 

“Think y’ can explain this before you do?”

With no time to brace yourself, she holds up that stupid decorated pink envelope, and all you want to do is faint. 

“I don’t..” you whisper, accepting there’s nothing you can say to make this go away. But that blue hair is nearing, and you’re going to have a heart attack. 

“Can you get in?” you ask, voice a soft plea. 

Vi’s expression falters. That was the last thing she expected.

“Please?” you try again. “I can’t talk about this here.”

Your foot’s going to fall asleep if you sit like this any longer.

The two of you stay perfectly still, worried that any form of movement will penetrate the bubble of silence that formed as soon as Vi sat in the plush passenger seat.

Her mind is racing, because the beautiful girl she’s had her eyes on for months sent her the most heartfelt confession she’s ever gotten, and now she’s sitting in her car in a secluded area of a park. For a moment, she wonders if she’s dreaming. But the sound of your seat belt unbuckling and you shifting to face her, sweet and cautious eyes looking into her soul, has her heart skipping beats. She concludes she’s wide awake.

“Interesting spot for our first date,” she hums after clearing her throat. “You’re not gonna kill me, right?” 

That has your expression faltering. 

“You’re..” you stammer, “you think this is funny?” 

“Listen I’m just a little confused, sunshine,” she doesn’t miss the way your body stills at the nickname. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered. But you and her majesty just broke up, and I think you should know that her and I—” 

“Just– let me see that.” you cut her off and reach out for the rosy packaging, but Vi’s quicker, pulling it back with a squint in her eyes.

“I’d like to know how mortified I should be,” you confess quietly after a beat of silence. “It’s been a while since I read yours.” 

Naturally, the athlete oozes confidence and cockiness, but the pure confusion that colonizes her expression makes all of that fade for the moment. Her guard is down, allowing you to reach over her lap and seize the envelope. 

“Wait wait wait,” she starts as you focus your attention on pulling the folded paper from the envelope. 

“What do you mean ‘yours’? Are you saying I’m not the only person who got one ‘f these?” she asks, voice laced with confusion and another emotion you can’t quite pinpoint. You ignore her, hands stilling as sour nostalgia hits you in the gut and knocks the wind out of you.

My dearest Violet,

Do you remember Ximena Talis’s creative writing class in junior year? You acted so uninterested in each lesson when your teammates were around, but when they were busy skipping class, you were sticking your nose in the next Shakespeare play or Edgar Allen Poe poem. You shared your own writings with the class, a bored look painting your face and an awkward laugh spilling from your throat (although, they really weren’t that bad). But when I stood in front of our peers and performed my spin on “Annabel Lee”, you rose to your feet in applause. I’ll always be grateful that it was you who gave me my first standing ovation. Because in that moment I knew, from my happily raised eyebrows down to the nervous shuffling of my feet, that I love you Violet Vanderson. I really, truly love you. 

You physically can’t read the rest of this.

The tense sensation in your stomach only tightens as you hastily fold the paper and toss it back to the athlete, who’s still examining you with a curious glint in her eye.

“Okay–  here’s the thing,” you begin after a deep breath. “I wrote four letters, and they’re all outdated, like– from sophomore through senior year. A family friend sent them out by accident.” 

The explanation has Violet blinking, because in one sentence you’ve managed to crush her plans that she confidently pranced over with. In one sentence, you’ve made her question what the hell she was thinking. In one sentence, you’ve washed away her suave persona and turned her to a questioning pile of mush, because– you’re not just trying to get into her pants?

“..Well who else got letters?” She cringes at her whiny tone, running a hand through her hair for comfort. 

“Uh,” you sigh and shift your position as you look anywhere but the girl, dread consuming your almost-annoyed face. “A girl from summer camp, some girl from the ice rink, and… Caitlyn.” The last word comes out as an embarrassed murmur that leaves Vi’s mouth agape in shock and pity. 

A few beats of silence pass before Vi’s eyes light up. 

It might be a crazy idea, and you might despise her after the suggestion leaves her lips, but she can’t pass up this opportunity.

“Things with Kiramman must be tense now, right?” she offers.

Your lips press together in silent agreement, gaze trailing to your shining phone screen.  35 new messages and 6 missed calls from Caitlyn, just in the past two hours. You’d texted Caitlyn an explanation as soon as you’d parked: that Ekko sent her an old letter and that was just that. But still, stubborn as always, the bluenette refuses to believe you. 

“You could say that,” you mumble reluctantly. “I just,” you whisper, “I don’t know what to do.”

Her gaze flickers up and down your frame once in final thought. Your bright eyes drooping with worry and once confident voice lacing with insecurity makes up her mind. She wants nothing more than to console you, to wrap her strong arms around your frame and make you beam. Vi’s not sure if it’s her or the seventeen year old in that creative writing class speaking, but words fall from her lips. 

“I could be your girlfriend.”

A wave of disbelief washes over you, leaving widened eyes and a pounding heart in its path. The panicked expression on your face is enough to have her next words sputtering out in consolation. 

“Fake girlfriend, of course.” The way your eyes soften in thought fuels her to continue. “Just for a little while y’know? To give Kiramman the hint.” Her words are spoken with more power as she sees the gears turning in your pretty little head.

The idea’s heinous, and the thought of your scheme being revealed makes your stomach turn in embarrassment for the both of you. It’s ridiculous, idiotic, and risky, but your phone lights up once again with a text from your navy-haired ex, and that’s enough to make you answer.

“Okay, let’s do it.” 

caitlyn: I know you didn’t mean what you said. Just come and talk to me, love.  caitlyn: Jesus, don’t be stubborn. 

The messages continue on like a flood, piling onto your guilty conscience until the notification ringing becomes all too much, making you flick the silence button on your phone. The quiet doesn’t last long as you near the doors of the practice rink. Five players burst through the doors, a cluster of chaos and yells surrounding them before one girl, hair tied back into a dark brown bun, notices you. 

“That her?” she whispers to her teammates, their backs facing you as they walk away, but they whip their heads around (noticeably at that) to get glances at you. 

“Damnn.” another draws out, earning a slap on her neck. 

“How’d Vi do that so fast?” you hear another quip before they take a turn down the hallway. 

You only smiled gently, rolling your eyes at the comments as your hand pushed open the door to the rink. At least you make a believable couple. 

“You know, my words were ‘you could always go back to Kiramman, the pretty girl dumped her’, not ‘you should go bag your ex-fling’s ex-girlfriend’. They’ve been broken up for, what, two weeks? Does she even know about you and Cait?” Abby’s raspy voice fills the ice, making Vi shush her in annoyance.

“Yes, of course she knows.” 

There’s a beat of silence, neither of the players move when the words of a lie fill the air.

“Fuck fine. No, she doesn’t know yet. I’m just waiting for a good time..” Vi confesses, aimlessly kicking the ice.

“You know this makes you messy, right?” the strong blonde grinned. 

“Oh fuck off. Messy is pounding half the swim team.” The pinkette sends an accusatory glance and Abby’s raising her hands up in innocence with a shrug and a smug smile. She rounds the ice and stops in her tracks when you enter the room, glistening skin and a patient waiting look on your face. 

She snickers, letting out a quick whistle as she skates towards the exit off the ice. “Violet,” she coos in a sing-songy voice, “look who’s here for you.” 

The blonde waves goodbye to her friend once and sends you a wink before exiting the room.

Your hands are clasped behind your back as you take your time walking up to where the carpet and ice of the rink are separated. Realizing your limit, you lean your side against the entrance, looking at the athlete whose eyes are grazing over your attire painfully slow.

“You want some skates?” she finally speaks, eyes meeting yours with a glint.

You laugh gently. “Hell no.” She snickers along with you, removing her helmet to run a hand through her hair. 

“So you’ve,” you slightly raise your hand to point your thumb in the direction Abby and the other players exited, “you’ve told people already?” 

Worry flickers over her face, because for some reason she just can’t read you right like she can read other girls and it drives her insane. 

“Yeah, something wrong with that?” she asks cooly, placing her helmet back on the pink fluff as she glides around.

You bite the inside of your cheek in thought, finally shaking your head. “No, no I mean that’s the whole point, for people to know.” you hum. 

“But I have to ask, why are you doing this?”

Vi stops in her tracks, body turning to face yours from feet away. 

She contemplates it, telling you the truth. That she’s infatuated with and intrigued by you. That you’ve completely ruined hookups and “crushes” for her because she can’t get you out of her head. And maybe she doesn’t know you too well just yet, but she’s going to. And yes, she used to fuck your ex girlfriend way before you were even girlfriends, but it has absolutely nothing to do with the bond she wants to have with you, and she prays it doesn’t affect deem her unreliable. 

Yet none of that can come out of her mouth. So, she settles on her practiced lie and prays whoever’s up there doesn’t look down on her for it.

“Coach doesn’t like my reputation for ‘getting around’. Says it just doesn’t look good. Being with you gives me some cover.” She talks smoothly, making sure there’s not a hint of guilt behind her voice, because it's a lie. Coach Talis couldn’t care less about what she’s doing in her free time as long as she shows out on the ice. 

You only hum and nod.

You don’t notice how close she’s gotten until she’s there, staring down at you. Her musk and amber scent is intoxicating, seeping into your nostrils while powder blue eyes catch yours through her helmet and– is it possible she looks better than you remember?

“The letter,” you sputter out, mentally cringing as the pinkette raises a brow. “Can I see the letter again?” 

She’s cheesing, reaching into the pocket of her pants to whip out the neatly folded paper and.. is she just keeping that on her? 

As if she can read your mind and wide eyes, she speaks. “Just knew you’d want it,” she explains, placing it between your waiting fingers. She watches as you unfold the paper and look up at her. Thick silence fills the air before the athlete gets the hint, blinking twice with a nod. “Right, sorry,” Vi apologizes simply before skating off. 

You take a deep breath, heart swelling the same way it did when you first wrote this sweet confession. 

My dearest Violet,

Do you remember Ximena Talis’s creative writing class in junior year? You acted so uninterested in each lesson when your teammates were around, but while they were busy skipping class, you were sticking your nose in the next Shakespeare play or Edgar Allen Poe poem. You shared your own writings with a bored look painting your face and an awkward laugh spilling from your throat (although, they really weren’t that bad). But when I stood in front of our peers and performed my spin on “Annabel Lee”, you rose to your feet in applause. I’ll always be grateful that it was you who gave me my first standing ovation. Because in that moment I knew, from my happily raised eyebrows down to the shuffling of my nervous feet, that I love you Violet Vanderson. I really, really love you. 

When I sat back down in my seat, you slipped a pink sticky note back onto my desk. Gentle handwriting and a sweet smiley face in the corner decorated the words “that was amazing, how do you write so well?”. I’d never had my heart pound harder, never felt my palms sweatier or my spirits higher. As each day passes, I hope you’ll look at me with the same rose colored glasses as you did that class. I dream each night with my lovestruck brain of you taking me by the hand and asking me to be forever yours. I’ll be waiting, no matter how long it takes.

- forever yours, ____

It doesn’t take long before you get that warm and fuzzy feeling, the same one that caressed your body while you wrote this very letter. It takes even less time for it to be replaced with soul eating shame that has you wanting to curl into a ball. 

“You’ve always been a good writer,” she calls out, nearing you. “I meant it when I said it.” 

“..I know,” you agree, a smile forming against your will. 

Vi’s grinning at your sass, and damn is the only word that fills her brain. “How are things with Kiramman?” she asks gently.

“She just doesn’t believe me. She’s texted a thousand times since yesterday and is totally convinced I want her back.” you roll your eyes in exhaustion.

“Do you?” 

You pause at her question, because underneath that carefree and playful persona hides a hint of worry behind Vi’s voice, and it’s fueling the curiosity within you. “Why are you asking?”

A beat passes. “Just wanna know how humiliated I’ll be after all of this,” the pinkette admits.

Her confession makes you laugh and shake your head. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” you hum. “I broke up with Caitlyn and that’s that. If it takes a fake relationship and a little pda for her to see that then so be it.” 

Vi nods, making sure not to let the smile she’s feeling creep onto her face. 

“So you like writing, you’re smart as hell, you dress real cute,” she points a finger up and down your outfit and you tilt your head. “Anything else I should know about you or our little.. ordeal?” 

You tongue your cheek in silent thought before replying. 

“You can’t kiss me.” 

That has Vi’s brain short circuiting, because the image you’ve set in her mind from those words alone is sparking a crimson glow across her face and– fuck she shouldn’t be thinking about this. But she had to admit (to herself, not out loud of course), she’d have no problem with running her lips across yours if you asked for it. 

“Did Kiramman not kiss you, angel?” ‘She’d have to be a fucking idiot not to’ is the next thing that wants to come out of her mouth, but she settles for a soft tease. “That’s a couples thing, if you didn’t know.” 

“We kissed, obviously.” You cross your arms as you speak. “You can– y’know, hold me, kiss my.. anywhere else.” Both you and Vi feel a shift. Damn, are ice rinks always this warm? “Just, no real kissing. It’s too personal.” 

Vi gently nods, slipping out a soft ‘alright’ because you have a good point. 

She moves forward to step off the ice, placing a firm hand on your waist to gently guide you out of the way as she passes. Your body tenses at the touch, whipping your head towards the girl in surprise.

The pinkette notices, and she knows she shouldn’t chuckle at it, but she does. “If it’s gonna take ‘a little pda’, you might wanna get rid of that before this weekend,” she’s speaking cockily as she nears her bag, her helmet coming off for good.

You clear your throat. “What’s this weekend?”

“Party ‘m takin’ you to. Think of it as our couples debut.” And Vi loves the surprised little look on your face as you ask her if that’s ‘really necessary’.

“You really think anyones gonna believe we’re together if I’m at a party all by myself? Who’s gonna fight off all the girls craving my attention, sunshine?” 

You wonder if the notorious smirk on her face is permanent as she slings her practice bag on a sculpted shoulder as she moves to tower over you, the cool air of the rink becoming very present.

“So you’re coming, yeah?” 

Your eyes travel from hers to the empty space beside her in thought. 

“Of course.”

“You’re sure it’s not too boob-y?” 

You tug at your low cut top, half yelling over the chaos of other students to your roommate who’s eyeing you like your one head has turned into five. 

“Wait, you didn’t want it to be ‘boob-y’? Practically wearing a bra,” she yells back with a knowing smile, sipping from the red cup that quickly found her hands. At the sight of your worry, her smugness turns to playful comfort. “Come on, you’re at a frat not a damn funeral. You look sexy.”

“She’s right.”

The raspy voice behind you is unfamiliar, sending a soft chill down your spine that turns you on your heels. 

You’re met with a tall, muscular, brownskin woman. Half of her hair is pulled back, and loose strands fall to decorate her face that holds piercing eyes which are completely directed on you. You’ve seen her before for sure, but her name is the last thing on your mind as her eyes trail over every inch of your exposed skin. 

“Sevika,” she tells lowly, placing a red cup between your manicured fingers to which you scoff under your breath. 

You give her the benefit of the doubt. 

“___,” you offer your name, looking for any hint of recognition on her face, and you get it when she smirks and tilts her head. 

“I know who you are, beautiful,” she purrs.

“Then you also know I’m Vi’s girlfriend?” you throw back. The words feel completely foreign on your tongue, but come out so awfully right. 

The raven’s eyebrows raise right before she huffs out a laugh of disbelief, sipping from whatever mixture graced the cup in her hand. “Girlfriend?” she repeats. “Shit, with the way she was talking about you, I thought you were just a hookup.” 

The air’s suddenly much thicker, tenser, and you don’t have much time to process what Sevika just laid upon you before pink hair makes its way through the crowd.

“There’s my girl,” Vi calls out as she nears you, her sweet words cutting the tension like a knife. “Been looking all over for you,” she speaks as gently as she can in the atmosphere, completely ignoring the presence of her teammate.

“Hi,” you simply let out. Your knees feel weak and you think maybe you’re not cut out for this, because the pinkette slides a warm hand around your waist and places a chaste kiss down on your bare shoulder. 

She’s pulling back from your skin when her eyes land on the cup in your hand, a confused glint in her eye as she squints. “Thought you drove?” The calloused fingers tracing meaningless patterns on your skin and soft breathy words hitting your face from just inches away make you feel like Melting. What’d she ask again?

“No,” is all you manage to stammer out, shifting in the girl’s arms until the right words form in your head. “No this isn’t mine.” you’re mentally facepalming.

Vi’s eyes flicker from you, to the cup, to Sevika, finally piecing together her part in this. The athlete stands a bit taller, gently taking the drink from your hands and shoving it against Sevika’s chest. Some of the liquid splashes over the cup, leaving droplets of a stain on the angry woman’s shirt.

Sevika’s slowly taking the cup without breaking eye contact. Her gaze is sharper than daggers as Violet huffs out a scoff, her grip on your waist more present as she guides you away from the brute and through the crowd of partygoers. 

“I’m sorry about her. One asshole of a teammate.” Vi’s words kiss your ear to avoid yelling as she walks. “You okay?” she asks slightly softer, which earns her a nod and quick ‘yeah’. The pinkette’s hand snakes from around your waist down to grab one of yours, holding you tightly as you worm your ways through the horde. 

As you exit the crowd your left arm finds its way to wrap around her right, placing your free hand lazily on her bicep, because if you had to feel her fingertips on your skin anymore you’d faint. The pair of you walk through the spacious backyard, decorated with a pool, groups of your classmates, and a cluster of hockey players lounging on some couches that circle a fire pit. 

“You ready?” She whispers softly.

“Ready,” you reply with a smile that turns into an “o” shaped mouth, big worried eyes capturing VI’s. “They won’t ask me about hockey, right?” 

The girl lets out a sweet, genuine laugh, and so cute is what she’s mentally replying. 

“There you are!” Abby calls out as soon as the two of you are in her vision. The rest of the team follows, greeting both you and Vi, throwing her smirks or nods of approval when you have your focus elsewhere. Vi sits, sprawling out against the couch with her legs perfectly spread for you. As if it were natural, her hands find their way around your hips and she guides you down into her lap. 

And you hate it. 

Not the feeling of her firm chest against your back, not her warm legs encasing your bare and crossed ones, not even the way she wraps her muscular arms around your torso and places her head so close to yours. 

You hate how normal she’s making all of this feel, how your brain is being fried with each touch, but your faux girlfriend doesn’t seem to be bothered one bit. And you’re starting to wonder if it’s a problem. 

“How’d you two even meet? Didn’t you and the chick from the basketball team just break up?” one of her teammates questions you with a raised brow. 

Fuck is all your brain renders, and you hope the shock didn’t show on your face because—

“I’ve had the hots for her since high school, thought it was time to do something about it,” Vi replies. A proud feeling washes over her when your body relaxes in her arms.

You’re gently squeezing her arm twice, thankful that she’s such a great actor. She’s running her thumb against your skin, thankful that you can’t read minds. 

A few sweet nods and noises of approval are let out before Abby speaks up. “‘The hots’? What are you, fifty?” She jokes, earning a grinning ‘fuck off’ from Vi. 

The teammates’ conversation continues both with and without you, leaving moments for you to think of something ‘girlfriendish’ to say or a new place on Vi’s skin to touch. And then, it starts. Against Vi’s rolling eyes and Elora’s complaint that this is “so middle school”, a game of truth or dare ensues. Ever the fun one, the blonde convinces everyone that it’ll be fun, that it’s good to be childish every once in a while. 

So far, Gert’s been dared to send an ‘i miss you’ voice note to her ex and is utterly ashamed, Abby’s mouth tastes both bitter and spicy from the liquor concoction the teammates dared her to drink, another girl has been stripped down to her shorts and wife pleaser and shooed away from the fire to ‘endure the cold’ for ten more minutes. 

When it comes to the other teammates, you don’t know how many “___ and i banged” truths and “take this many shots” dares you hear before it’s finally your turn. 

“Truth or dare?” Vi coos in your ear.

“Truth–” 

“Dare?” she cuts you off with a mean grin. “Alright, I dare you to jump into the pool. Right here, right now.” 

Your head whips towards the girl fast enough to send chills down the pinkette’s spine. The hockey team is whooping and cheering you on as Violet comes to a stand with your mid area still locked by her arms. 

“No– no– I said truth Vi!” you sputter out. Your body and mind are moving at an astronomically slow speed because before you know it, Vi’s scooping you off the ground and throwing you over her shoulder effortlessly. As she begins to walk, the hollering of the team growing in intensity, one of her warm hands lays at the back of your thigh, holding down the bottom of your already short skirt. The other trails its way down your leg and to your feet, slipping off your shoes and letting them fall with a plop. 

“Violet Vanderson.” you warn firmly, squirming in anticipation as you neared the icy blue water. You’re feeling five emotions at once, and at the same time evaluating how much Caitlyn’s perception on things truly matters, because you’re this close to firing your ‘girlfriend’. 

When she suggested this entire ordeal you imagined it’d be standing together for an hour and dancing, going out for drinks once or twice, maybe even an instagram story or two. 

You didn’t expect pool shenanigans, shoulder kisses, and powerful arms wrapped around your sides every two seconds. You didn’t expect to be having fun, let alone like it. 

“Put me down!” you yelp through rising giggles.

“A dare’s a dare, angel.” she speaks lowly over her shoulder to you, who’s dangling helplessly in her grasp. “C’mon, it looks good for us as a couple,” she whispers.

“Wait wait wait!–” 

Your last threat is drowned out as Vi jumps into the glowing blue.

“Wonder how many people have had sex in here tonight,” you joke through chattering teeth. You’re holding your soaked hair together to the best of your ability as to not drench everything in your path, but truthfully, water is the cleanest thing to grace those frat floors. Vi trails right in behind you, snorting out a laugh as she leans against the closed door. 

The pinkett’s pool stunt only had you upset for so long, mostly out of shock of her actually going through with it. However, once you rose to the surface of the water, the only things that could spill from your mouth were hearty giggles. 

What made it ten times better was that people saw, Vi’s teammates whooped while others just snickered at the ‘new couple’s’ playfulness. 

What made it a hundred times better was Abby informing you of how pissed Caitlyn looked, staring at you and Vi before storming back the way she came from. 

“Enough to start a new std?” She flashes her pearly whites at her own joke.

“Violet!” you cringe, making her chuckle. 

As cold as your water-soaked clothing, skin, and drenched hair makes you, the athlete’s soft gaze is a lighter igniting a blaze in the pit of your stomach. For the first time in a long time, protected by the walls of someone’s room, you’re able to explore her face. 

Perfect, full brows are intercepted by a slit with one to match down on the the left of her rosy lips. Sweet freckles dance on and around her nose, and gosh she’s pretty. It’s the same face you’d admired years ago, but you still look at her as if you’ve discovered her beauty all over again. You stand there attempting to pinpoint what shade of blue her eyes are when she finally speaks up. 

“Here,” the athlete steps closer, taking off her thick black coat and handing it over sheepishly. “Can’t do anything about your skirt, but I thought these would help.” A hint of blue and white fabric peeks out from underneath, and you unravel it to reveal a jersey. One of her jerseys. 

There’s a glint of suspicion in your eye, and Violet’s in fear. 

“You just.. keep this in your car? All the time?” You question with a perfectly raised eyebrow. 

Vi clears her throat. Because no, no she doesn’t. She just had to do something to get you in her clothes. 

A beat passes with no response, and finally the pinkette’s eyes are flickering around the room before she turns. “I’ll let you get changed.” 

The door’s opening and closing before you can protest, and it’s finally safe for that suppressed smile to grace your lips without shame.  

It doesn’t take long for you to strip out of your sopping clothes and into the oversized comfiness of Vi’s. You examine yourself in the full length mirror, fixing your wet hair to the best of your ability and running your hands over the warmth of the new clothing. It sMells just like Violet, and you convince yourself that you don’t care, but underneath that protective mask is the lovestruck teenage girl you once were.

Turning on your heels, you gather the wet bundles of fabric and head for the door when someone on the other side beats you to it. 

Correction, the last person you want to see beats you to it. 

Caitlyn’s quick to step inside the room, closing the door with an indecipherable expression plastered on her face. Her brows furrow with more distaste than usual, and her once perfect navy blue locks now have strands messily shaken out of place. Your tongue is strangled by the bite of your teeth. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes to the back of your head. 

“Violet Vanderson?” She wastes no time, chary eyes examining your face with crossed arms. “Really?”

You’re done holding back, so you scoff.

“Yes, really. What, are you jealous?” you quip. “Y’know what, don’t answer that. I already know.” 

She ignores the sassy remark. “I’m surprised you chose her, considering everything.” 

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Considering, what exactly?” 

Caitlyn’s poker face had been drilled into her since she was a kid, but the bluenette physically had to suppress the amusement from taking over her face when she realized: you had no clue. 

“I just didn’t think she was your type, and that was awfully fast,” she saves. 

“I didn’t cheat on you, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” You spit the words like they burn on your tongue as impatient hands come up to rest on your hips. 

“I’m insinuating that I don’t believe whatever this is.” 

That has you pausing. Your face, demeanor, and attitude all stay the same, but you both notice the shift in the air. 

“I think you realize you messed up when you broke things off, and now you’re playing hard to get.” She continues, stepping forward as her toned arms fall to her sides. 

“There’s no need to play games with me, you know.” 

Cait’s look is condescending, and it only pisses you off more when her hand reaches out to caress yours. The perfect persuasion, an easy fix to all of her problems when the utter of her surname isn’t quite enough. But you’re not easy, and you didn’t mess anything up. So you quickly swat it away, sneering as you step around the tower of a girl and towards the door. 

“Get over yourself, Caitlyn.” 

You exit the room with blood red vision, a fury which follows you on your journey to find Mel in the drunken crowd and pull her to the front while Vi offers to walk both of you to your car. 

And in your red haze, you miss the eye contact Caitlyn and Sevika make from across the crowded room. 

Sweat is dripping from the athletes’ foreheads down to the stretch of their neck as Talis blows his whistle, allowing the players to catch their breaths.  

Normally, Vi would be more than willing to stay longer than the scheduled practice time. Running fun drills with Abby, racing Gert, whatever the matter may be. Hockey is her thing. 

But, at the moment, you’re also ‘her thing’. And right now you were patiently waiting in your apartment for Vi to make an appearance. A friendly one, of course. Away from watching eyes and overwhelming questions, where you could discuss your next moves in peace–as peaceful as you could get with the muscular tease looking at you as if you were a star to wish on at night. 

So she keeps her mouth shut and her eyes trained on Coach Talis (who’s giving some end-of-practice spiel) as Sevika glides up next to her.

She keeps her mouth shut as the brute lets out a soft scoff at how hard Vi’s trying to ignore her. 

She has to bite hard on her tongue when the woman mutters something about the pink-haired athlete needing to ‘give up while she’s still ahead’. 

And her mouth opens immediately when your name falls from Sevika’s lips. “___, she really is somethin’ huh–?” 

“Don’t fuck with me, Sevika,” she threatens, a tad louder than expected. Their stubborn gazes stay locked on one another, and Sevika’s letting out a scoff while squaring her firm shoulders.

“Or what?” the raven throws back, intimidation oozing from her presence.

“Hey! What did I say?” The bubble of their rivalry is popped as Coach Talis raises his voice. 

“That’s it. Bag skates.” 

[REDACTED]: you sure this’ll work? 

When Vi finally shows up at your sun-glistening apartment, her hair is wet from the quick shower she took, she’s a total blubbering mess about how she’s crazy sorry and feels terrible for making you wait an extra hour, and she’s holding one cup of coffee that looks exactly like the one you always order.

“Vi, seriously it’s okay,” you chuckle, and the girl deflates in soft relief. A smile sweet as honey graces your face and Vi finally figures it out: you’re just an angel in disguise.

You reach over from your seat on the couch to take the cup of coffee from her hand. It’s your order to a T, and the sip you take sends a cold trail of liquid down your throat and into the warmth of your stomach. 

“Mmm,” you hum, making Vi malfunction when you lick the remnants from your lips. “Did you chug yours on the way?” you ask.

Perfect blue eyes blink twice while Violet calculates the odds that you’ll say yes if she were to suggest you drop the whole act and venture off on a real date right now. 

“Oh– hell no. I can’t stand coffee. I just went to get you one,” she hums without thought. Fifty-five percent chance, not good enough. 

“Again, I’m sorry. Sevika’s been more of an asshole than usual. Made us run back and forth on the ice until we practically collapsed. Don’t know what the hell she was thinking though, almost missed her shift at that rink..” Violet continues on with conflicted brows furrowing and a hardened gaze. But just like waves washing away at imperfections in grainy sand, the awestruck glimmer in your eyes wipes the fury from her blood. 

“You went just for me?” the question comes out almost as a whisper.

Violet swears she can feel her heart Melting from your actions, and the feeling bubbles its way up as words in her throat. “Of course.”

It’s left at that. Of course, a declaration that it was common sense she’d be of service to you even behind the scenes. Neither of you dare to ask or explain why. For a moment, there’s no words. Just the soft sensation of little breaths, beating hearts, and wandering gazes, but only for a moment.

“Cait doesn’t believe us,” you spill.

Vi can only huff gently, shifting in her seat as her spread legs move a bit wider. 

“She’s smart, I’ll give her that.” Vi hums in thought. The cogs in her brain get distracted and come to a halt when she sees the glistening worry in your orbs, and without thought, her hand is coming up to hold your chin, guiding it to connect your gazes.

“Hey, we’ll fix it, alright?” She reassures, and a thumb glides over your cheek. The moment is tender, something deep and sweet, but it doesn’t take long for the both of you to pull back as your eyes flicker anywhere else. 

“We just need to… to up our game.” At the sight of your confused eyes, she continues. “Give me your phone,” Vi instructs softly, holding her hand out.

You simply obey, placing the device in her hand with a slight squint in your eyes. 

All uncertainty is replaced with giggles and content when Vi holds up the camera. Her left hand holds the phone while her right arm lifts into frame next to her face and flexes, revealing the entirety of her sculpted muscles. 

Jesus, your mind betrays you.

After the snap of the camera, the pinkette hands the device back to you. 

“Make it your lock screen,” she speaks so casually, like the idea behind these actions have no effect on her whatsoever. A black cased phone is then slid into your hands, and big powder-blue eyes are staring at you expectantly. 

“Oh, you want..” you internally cringe at the stammer. 

“Of course, needa see your face too.” she states with a grin.

You’re nodding at that, as if a swarm of what you think are butterflies aren’t rummaging around in your gut. Raising the camera in your manicured fingers, you snap a photo mocking Vi’s. More kissy face, less muscles. The athlete has the biggest grin as she takes the device back, and with a ‘there’, your face is  blessing her lockscreen. 

“So, should I book our room at Mt. Sky, or do you want to?” Her eyes are trained on your face as she drapes both swole arms across the back of the couch. 

You do nothing to hide the surprise on your face. With crisp frosty air, a winter wonderland of snow, and more unplanned pregnancies and sexual noise complaints than any of the campus’s frat parties, Mt. Sky was the unofficial University of Piltover ski trip of the year. Athletes, hookups of athletes, curious freshmen, and anyone who concerned themselves with campus drama banded together for a few days of thrillingly-messy paradise. 

“You wanna share a room?” you ask with raised brows, because ‘wait, we’re going?’ seems out of the question.

The pinkette’s lips curl into a smile, one that flashes the white of her teeth as blue orbs flicker down and up your frame once.

“Yeah, I do.” 

The short silence that follows is smothering, and you swear the room just got a hundred degrees hotter—because there’s the same tease you remember fantasizing over as your pink glitter pen graced the paper of her letter. 

“It’d be weird if we didn’t,” she explains. “Wouldn’t just be Cait questioning us, it’d be everybody,” she tilts her head, and you’re snapped back to the reality of your situation. Fake. 

You’re not looking at the freckled girl as you hum with a nod. 

That has the athlete’s suave persona faltering. A rough hand snakes up to gingerly move a piece of hair from your face. She’s barely touching you, as though you’re more fragile than glass in her grasp. 

“We don’t have to, if you wanna room with Mel that badly–” 

“–No, no I think we should,” you reassure with a smile, because you do want to, more than you probably should, but your brain’s having a very hard time deciphering fantasy from reality. 

It’s her turn to hum, and that tender hand doesn’t leave your face, it only stills as you turn your head completely towards her. 

“You don’t have to do that when we’re in private,” you refer to her wandering hands with a gentle tone. Vi’s eyes soften into something raw and real as she lulls out a response.

“Doesn’t hurt to get comfortable with each other. Right, sunshine?”

Wrong. 

Because it could hurt. It could wound the both of you and cause an ache like never before. Because—admittedly—you don’t know what you’re feeling right now. But more importantly, you don’t know what Violet’s feeling. You had her all figured out at seventeen, but now, you’re unsure of how gentle or reckless she’d be with your heart.

And still, against all the skepticism your brain concocts, you agree. 

“Right.” 

[REDACTED]: Of course I’m sure. Just do what I ask and we’ll both get what we want.

“Late again?” Finn coos, a teasing expression on the raven’s face. 

“Another run in with pinkie,” Sevika smirks, almost seeming proud. 

The man shakes his head with a smile before placing a handful of mail on the counter in front of the pair. “You mind?”

A groan falls from Sevika’s lips as her gaze flickers between him and the letters. “But I have—”

“Please?” the man asks, already inching away from the space. “I just have to deal with something.”

Before she can argue further, Finn thanks her and rushes off towards the rink. The woman’s left muttering swears and rolling her eyes as she rummages through the envelopes filling her space. 

To: Polar Peaks, To: Polar Peaks, To: Sky Young, To: Pola—

She blinks once and her firm hands come to a pause before her fingers are backtracking to a chestnut brown envelope, covered in hearts and kiss marks. 

Sevika’s huffing out a laugh of disbelief. Her eyes trail over every inch of the sickeningly sweet decor. The recipient address is the ice rink, just like the rest of the pile, and the woman’s intrigue only grows as her eyes trail to the top left corner. To the sender. To you. 

“My favorite energy drink?” Vi throws out.

“Berrybulls, specifically the yellow and amber ones.” you quip with confidence, smiling when Vi nods in content. 

A lightbulb flickers across the pink haired girl’s face, and she stops in her tracks, unintentionally pulling you back. You’re standing still now, and as the frigid air threatens to consume your body, the reminder that your hands are intertwined with one another spreads warmth throughout your core. You let yourself forget that it’s for show, and enjoy it. 

“Vi?” you question, stepping a bit closer. 

“This one’s important,” her tone is more serious, and her eyes meet yours as she takes a deep breath.

“What’s… my coffee order?” 

“Oh my gosh–” a joking scoff falls from your lips, and you’re gently shoving the laughing girl as you pull her to continue walking. The warmth of hand holding can only do so much to combat standing still in the chill of winter air. 

“C’mon sunshine, we’ve learned all there is to know. Besides, you really think anyone’s gonna come up and start quizzing us?” 

“No,” you admit as Vi holds you closer with a hand around your waist while more pedestrians enter and exit the sidewalks. “But I think it’s good to know just in case. Besides, I like learning about you.” 

“Oh yeah?” she coos. You hear a phone buzz once. 

“Yeah,” you let out with a giggle. Another buzz, and you’re reaching into your back pocket and tapping on the screen to reveal… nothing. 

kiramman: You have until the end of the trip. kiramman: If you don’t tell her, I will.

Is it possible to feel complete peace and soul-shredding anxiety simultaneously? 

On one hand, you’re having the most fun you’ve had in a long time. The drive to the resort with Mel—and her newfound friend Elora— was filled with guttural laughter. The three of you screamed songs at such a volume you’re surprised the windows didn’t burst. 

When you arrive, you’re trapped by the strong arms of Abby who’s lifting you into the air with her hug. Vi has to be the one to mutter “That’s enough, Abs..”, earning a laugh from the surrounding teammates, who are quick to tug you and your friends into conversation. 

There’s arms around your waist and a bulky body encasing yours while you sit around a fireplace, quiet giggles to each other when you’re bored of the group conversation, and a sweet goodbye kiss to your forehead when Vi and her peers leave to ski. The day progresses perfectly. 

On the other hand, you can feel as Caitlyn’s eyes follow you. A predator stalking its prey. And even though you’re not afraid of the girl, you wonder what it’s going to take for her to throw in the towel. 

“Was the sex that good?” Mel’s golden eyes are both teasing and genuinely questioning you. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you throw back with a laugh. 

“I’m serious, why is she so persistent? Does your tongue have a built in vibrator?—”

“Mel!” 

She’s giggling with you now, face falling into the plush of the king sized bed you’re both sprawled out on. 

“By the way, watch out. Your girlfriend’s biggest fan decided to show up this year,” she flips over onto her back, head tilted to look at you with a pitying–but still undeniably smug–expression.

“Sevika?” you whine and she nods. “She never comes to Mt. Sky. She’s just... anti-fun.” 

Mel hums. “A refined Kiramman has turned into a borderline stalker, Sevika Grove is coming on ski trips, what’s next? Aliens?”

“Surprised the aliens weren't first.” 

Your giggles are cut short as Elora knocks at your already open door, and Mel’s swiftly coming to a stand. 

“Talk to you later?” she offers, and you smile with a nod. 

The tranquility of an empty room only lasts so long, because within seconds, Vi is bursting into the space and hastily shutting the door. You hear the click of the lock and jolt up with confusion written across your face. 

“Vi? What’s—” 

“Cait’s on her way up here,” she speaks with haste.

“I could talk to her, if you want. Just say the word,” Vi offers, and there’s no time to overanalyze the tightness in your chest at the idea of the pinkette protecting you. 

Thousands of possibilities fly throughout your racing brain. Talking went in her ear and out the other (or, rather, around her head entirely), and going radio silent only amplified her stubbornness. The way you see it, the only thing left to do is play Caitlyn’s petty game, to make it clear that the two of you were done. 

Your brain is completely heated and fuzzy at the idea, but you have no time to waste as you hop off of the bed and over to the butch. 

“We’re gonna have sex,” you state. 

Vi’s completely stopped working. That’s it—she’s died. She’s died and gone to heaven. That’s the only plausible explanation for—

“Fake! Fake sex, I mean.”

Well that makes more sense. 

“Fake–what? You’ve gotta explain a little better than that,” she’s trying to suppress the color from showing in her cheeks, and a hand comes up to run through her hair. 

“Just—” you stammer, moving the girl by the arm so that you’re both a few feet away from the door, leaned up against the wall with Vi hovering over you. Your hand stays on her arm, which is gently placed on the side of your waist. The room’s air grows thicker by the second, and tension oozes from every movement made. 

“This doesn't feel very fake, sweetheart.” Her voice is lower, more sultry, and it sends a shiver straight up your spine. 

“We’re gonna…” gonna faint. The sound of footsteps power walking down the hallway throws your brain back into action. “Just follow my lead,” you breathe.

The athlete’s in a state of utter confusion. She’s squinting harder than ever as you bite your lip, seemingly in thought, before you send a wave of pure shock throughout her core. 

You moan. 

Not a whine, not a whimper, not even a wince, a raw moan that compels something in her to twitch. 

“Violet,” you’re singing, eyes closed, and your head thrown to the side. Out of embarrassment or getting into character, she’s not sure. She’s not sure of anything, quite frankly, because how on earth is she expected to think when you’re squealing her name like she owns you?

“Oh yes—please please,” you coo. As if someone flipped a switch, you’re opening your eyes to look up at the athlete. 

“Say something,” you snap in a whisper. 

There’s no wasted time, because Violet’s thoughts spill at your approval. 

“So fuckin’ pretty. Who knew your moans sounded so good, baby?” 

You’re about to lose it. All sense of good judgment—or what’s left—is flying out of the window and being replaced by the dirty haze of your mind. You can’t help the way your hand is gently trailing up Vi’s arm and sliding down to rest against her abs. You don’t miss the way her grip around you tightens.  

You expect her to be done, but Vi’s kept these thoughts tucked away for way too long. If they’d be of any service to you, she might as well let them out. 

“Bet she couldn’t fuck you like this, huh? No angel, she couldn’t.”  

A symphony of grunts, whimpers, and moans of passion decorate not only the room, but the ears of Caitlyn. Your navy haired ex lingers outside the door, seeing nothing but blood red as she listens to the noises you used to make for her. The noises Vi never made for her. The newfound passion that the pinkette pulled out of you, one that Cait never could. 

With clenched, clammy fists and gritted teeth, Caitlyn reluctantly drags herself away from the door and down the hallway. 

Like coming down from a high, shallow breaths fill yours and Vi’s ears before all sounds subside. Neither of you dare to move as the clack of Caitlyn’s feet storm down the hall and out of earshot. Colorful orbs stare down at the floor or up at the white ceiling, because they’re suddenly oh so intriguing. 

And maybe, just maybe, this is the moment you realize not everything is as imaginary as you thought. 

Meanwhile, Vi’s imagining what the hell she’d say in this situation if her brain were computing. Because the sight of you throwing your head back in fake pleasure and spilling noises straight from your core was entirely soul-shifting. 

And it’s different, to be seeing you this close. Granted, she’s been closer. Graced the skin of your forehead or cheeks with her soft and scar-decorated lips more than once. But here, hovering over your softened body, her hand connecting to your waist with the gentlest of touches, and her eyes firmly memorizing every angle of your face, it’s different. Everything’s softer, and Violet’s able to relish in your raw loving aura, rather than put on a performance for the skeptical eyes of others. 

And then you laugh. 

You laugh, and laugh, and laugh. So hard that you don’t notice the way Vi smiles, one that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

And definitely, oh definitely, this is the moment she realizes she’s undeniably smitten. 

“Think we’ll get the first noise complaint?” You joke while coming down from your fit of laughter. 

That pulls a laugh from Vi’s throat, one that has her leaning forward with a deep breath after it bubbles out. The soft of her forehead tenderly meets yours, and the room’s heart rate rises exponentially, but neither of you squirm out of your positions. Because this is exactly where you want to be.

You can’t see it as your eyelids flutter shut, but Vi’s left hand wraps around your waist to meet her right, cradling you in a way that’s so natural, so sweet, so real. A cradle that protects and shields you from forces you can’t handle alone. A shelter for disasters from tsunamis to the cold chill of winter. From pretending to be your girlfriend to replacing your wet party clothes, all the way back to being your first standing ovation. Vi is your refuge. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, worried you’ll crack the faultless atmosphere. “Can’t believe you’re putting up with this– with me.” 

Her grip lightly tightens. “I’d do it over and over again.” 

She would, and she will, if you let her. 

You feel the truth in her words, and your eyes flutter open to pull back, just enough to look into those perfect blue specks. 

The pair of you stay there for what feels like forever, examining the watercolor paintings that you call your eyes. And–although she could stare at you for the rest of her life–Vi physically can’t wait any longer. Like magnets, your lips are tugging her forward. Centimeter by centimeter. Inch by inch. Heads tilting, eyes half lidded, and breaths hitching. Vi can practically taste the plush of your feature when—

“Yo! You guys in there?”

Abby’s fist thumps on the door three times. And as fast as you connected, you’re drifting apart.

you don’t care whether she knows or not. you just want her crawling back to you. not happening.  kiramman: I’ll tell her.

“Would you rather go a month without sex, or a month without candy?” 

“What kind of stupid ass question is that?” Vi throws at Abby, who’s snobbishly leaning back in the heated water as if she’d given the ultimatum of the century. 

Her newest middle school party game is would you rather, and while Vi couldn’t care less about the event itself, she’s secretly over the moon at the effort her teammates and close friends are making to connect with you. 

“A month without candy,” you cooly state as you look down at the water. Making the relationship more believable. That’s all you were doing.

That enables a chain of raised eyebrows and looks to Vi, whereas others let out sly whistles and snickers, throwing out little quips like “you hear that, superstar?”. 

“Alright, alright,” she’s calming them with a tug at the corners of her lips and a roll of her eyes. You only snicker to yourself at the odds, as if you didn’t have sex— fake sex with the girl minutes prior.

Leaning closer against Vi’s skin, plush bodies warming each other in the bubbly heat of the hot tub, you’re almost completely relaxed. The outdoors is the perfect flaky winter wonderland you expected, cabins further out from the resort look like the coziest of all shelters, and the milky mountains in the distance tie the atmosphere together. 

And while you’re focused on the landscape, Violet’s eyes are completely trained on you. 

She examines the way you sit so properly in her lap, the way your legs squirmed as she slid her hands away from your thigh and around the small of your waist (so others could see your contact.. of course), how you get so comical and chattery once you’re finally comfortable in a group, and the angelic resting look on your face when you’re finally at ease. 

And neither of you know it, but when the conversation is one that allows you to listen instead of talk, you’re both daydreaming about the endless possibilities of this night. The potential of this moment, as well as that of the countless others you’ve had since this entire ordeal began. 

Neither of you know it, but you’re both considering the idea that life could be like this all the time. The two of you snuggled up, surrounded by those cherished, laughing until you just can’t breathe. 

A chin comes to rest gently on your right shoulder, and Vi’s breath sends a shiver throughout your body faster than the crisp winter air ever could. 

“Do you always sit with your legs crossed in pools?” she teases, voice low, like she’s sharing a secret with you. Only you. 

“No,” you simply hum. Your tongue is prodding the inside of your cheek in thought, and you go through with the lightbulb in your head. 

“It’s a great reminder of how dangerously close your hands are to my bikini though, isn’t it?” 

The pads of her fingers that were once tracing meaningless patterns on your waist come to a stop, and you can hear the smirk in Vi’s voice. 

“You want me to move them?” she breathes.

Your response is almost automatic.

“No.” 

The conversation of what would’ve happened if Abby hadn’t knocked on your door was yet to come, but the newfound tension and playfulness that spilled from both of your lips was undeniable. 

Vi grins at your confidence, but underneath the suave persona, she knows you’ll be the death of her. 

“Bold girl,” she hums.

You’re so trapped in your playful banter that you don’t notice the way the rest of your peers are leaving, running off towards a different attraction of the resort, only god knows what. 

“You were pretty convincing up there,” your sly lips are curivng up at the corners. “You have fake sex often?”

“Nothing fake about my sex.” 

You’re snickering at her confidence, relishing in the way her arm hardens around you as she chuckles. 

“Don’t get cocky. I’m sure someone’s had to fake-orgasm with you once.” Maybe the lying’s getting to you, because you know in your heart of hearts that’s the furthest thing from the truth. 

“You really believe that?” she speaks in a lower tone, head snaking around to make eye contact with you. 

Like a clock rewinding, you’re seventeen again. 

Not physically, nor mentally, but your full heart is pounding the same rhythm as when you first fell for the tough, pink haired beauty in your writing class. Your breaths are shallow, gazes locked, and the warmth between you is incomparable to any sensation you’ve ever experienced prior. 

“Thought so,” she brazenly states after your lack of words, and you’re smiling in thought before gently splashing water towards the smug girl, Melting her charming essence that has you by the throat. 

Vi gasps through a laugh. Soon, she’s threatening to splash you back while you laugh and squeal through your begs for mercy. 

And although your vision isn’t flawless through the squinted happiness of your eyes, you can recognize that swinging navy blue hair approaching you.

Fuck. 

“She doesn’t give up,” you think out loud, and Vi doesn’t need to waste energy on turning her head to register who you’re talking about. 

You don’t see it through your irritated gaze, but Vi feels a jolt of worry crawl up her spine. While you worried about Cait smothering you for the rest of eternity, Vi’s skin shivers at the idea of her place in your heart being twisted from one of love and trust to hatred.

She wants to tell you, wants you to make the conscious decision to love her despite any past affairs.

But she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it now, while you’re warming up on her water-covered body. And she sure as hell couldn’t let Caitlyn poison your mind with it.

So there she sits, staring into your soul with those loyal eyes that silently swear they’d do anything for you. And, understandably, Vi makes all sense of good judgement Melt from your brain until it’s a useless pile of mush. 

So when Cait nears, practically striding her way to your uneasy soul, you make a decision. 

You kiss Violet. 

It’s a quick shift in atmosphere. One moment, your heart is beating out of fear, and the next it’s being thrashed around your chest by the ascended butterflies from your stomach. You turn in her lap to have easier access to her mouth, and the connection of your plush mouths is anything but fragile. It’s messy, hungry, starved even. Your lips dance in unison, and Vi’s sculpted arm wraps around you and gently holds the back of your neck. The way she’s handling you coupled with the burning water is giving your body a fever. 

You don’t know when Caitlyn sees you, how long she glares at your wet mouths and pressed bodies in pure anger, or how long it takes for her to storm off in defeat, because every inch of your mind is focused on the pinkette holding you as if you’re all she has. 

And it’s this moment that you finally accept the truth that’s kept itself hidden in your gut, you want her. And those sparkly powder-blue eyes are telling you that she wants—needs you too. 

But when you slide your hand down to hers and shyly move her calloused fingers to what little fabric’s covering your chest, she’s pulling back. There’s resistance in the movement, but she forces herself to disconnect from your wanting lips nonetheless. 

“Can’t,” she whispers, breathless.

You freeze, big dazed eyes blinking in confusion and embarrassment. ”But..” is all you can muster before Vi opens her mouth.

“Angel–it’s not that I don’t want this, I’m just—” 

The athlete’s rubbing her temples. Her mind, body, and heart must be at war inside of her, because each is telling her a different path to take, and she looks so conflicted as she speaks. 

“You don’t want this,” she finally decides.

“What?” is all you manage to choke out. 

“You don’t want this.” she repeats, less convinced than the first time it left her lips. 

You can only scoff, attempting to hide the bullet to your heart and ego. 

“You don’t know what I want,” you counter, and the ache in your voice sends a crack through Vi’s heart. “Why are you denying this?” 

Because this is fake, a scheme to get your ex girlfriend off your back. Because I haven’t been completely honest with you, and for that I don’t deserve a sweet love like this. Not yet. 

But instead of that, or even coming clean to you altogether, Vi sighs. And for the first time, her eyes are disloyal, looking anywhere but yours. 

You’re huffing, shoving stiff arms off of you. You pull yourself from the hot tub into the freezing air of the night, a replica of your once blazing heart turning ice cold. 

“Whatever, Violet.” you spit out, and just like that, you’re gone. 

The debate over soul-shredding anxiety and complete peace has come to a halt, because the ache of a pummeled ego and a confused heart that’s afraid to beat outweighs both. 

You didn’t sleep in yours and Vi’s shared room that night. Instead, you grabbed a pillow and stormed over to Mel and Elora’s, who were happy to have you. Making up a lie about dying for a girls’ night, you gossiped and giggled, arguably with a stronger poker face than the Kirammans, before a yawn finally slipped from Mel’s mouth and exhaustion spread throughout the air. 

At last, in the silence of night, salt ridden tears noiselessly slide down the bridge of your nose and pile onto the cool fluff of your pillow. 

As if your lack of adequate sleep and racing mind didn’t have you at your wits end, the next day was twice as cruel on you. Ignoring one athlete was a walk in the park, but avoiding two, while trying not to raise suspicion, is just as hard as it sounds. 

Caitlyn’s in the hallway, so you rush to your room. Violet’s in the room, so you venture off to the spa with Mel and Elora. Caitlyn’s entering the spa right before you finish up, so you’re suggesting a lap of skiing to the girls, but Vi’s exiting the room in her snow gear when you near the door. 

You just couldn’t win. 

So when you hear the soft voice coming from the doorway, you don’t even bother to lift your body from the plush of your blanket. 

“Don’t go,” Vi pleads, gently shutting the wooden door and ridding herself of her puffy jacket. 

The pinkette’s still, waiting for you to move, to do or say something—anything, but you do nothing of the sort. When she concludes it’s safe she takes small, soft steps towards the edge of your bed and you feel the mattress dip under pure muscle. 

With still hands and a timid heart, Vi speaks the first words into the air. 

“Well, we broke our little rule set.”

Her playful smile is uneasy, one made when she examines your weary face too hard. And when she notices the lack of expression on your face, it flattens out into worried brows and soft lips. 

“I’m sorry,” slips from her lips, prompting you to turn your head towards the pinkette. 

“Stop. You don’t have to apologize for your feelings… or lack thereof,” you whisper the last part as if it’s shameful. 

With a sigh, you hoist yourself up to sit straight and lean against the decorative headboard. With fidgeting hands laid in your lap and eyes that travel anywhere but the anxious girl before you, you speak.

“I just thought that there was— something,” you start. “And.. and maybe it’s stupid, but I thought that maybe all of this means something. Maybe my letters getting out wasn’t the worst thing, because maybe things between us could be exactly how I wanted when I was writing them.” 

Vi feels terrible for giving you emotional whiplash, but she can’t stand to see you beating yourself up over something you want— something the both of you crave: eachother. 

Tender fingers snake their way up to your face and hook on your chin, tilting your head towards her alluring orbs. 

“You really believe that?” she asks, eyes squinted.

“Believe.. what?” 

“That I don’t feel things for you?” she asks like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world.

“I couldn’t tell you all the things you do to me. All the ways you make me feel,” she slides the hand that’s cupping your face to gently tap the side of your pretty little head. 

“Here, and.. here,” her finger grazes your skin as it skims down to tap once against your encaptured heart. “And….”

She cuts the sentence short, dropping her hand down to intertwine with one of yours, because you’re supposed to be having a serious conversation, so she needs to focus. 

“You do terribly good things to me, sweetheart.” 

“Then why did you push me away?” you whisper to combat the rapid speed of your heart as adrenaline rushes through your veins from Vi’s simple and sensual touches. 

She contemplates it, ripping the bandage off and telling you the truth, she really does. Would it be that big of a deal? Would you take it with ease and laugh at her anxiety, caressing her like she dreams and letting her finally place a guilt-free kiss upon your soft lips? Or would you crumble at the news, and let the trust you’ve built up shatter with it? 

“I didn’t know whether it was real or not,” she decides: a lie. “I know that the way my heart races for you is real, the realest thing there is. But I know it’s easy to get caught up in a fake high, and when you were kissing me I just—” she sighs at the ramble, but the gentle squeeze you give her hand guides her through it. 

“I just wanted to let you decide if this is really what you want. Not because of Cait or anyone else. Just you.”

She’ll tell you. Eventually. She silently swears it to herself. 

But right now, Vi’s looking at you the same way she did that day, and it’s suffocating. 

Big pretty eyes examine every inch of you with that awestruck gaze, a child watching a shooting star pass by. Except this time, she wouldn’t let you leave. 

This time, you, that creative girl with clammy palms and shy eyes, watching her bubblegum haired love give her a standing ovation— that shooting star would come crashing down and right into the warm arms in which she belongs. 

“The love I have for you.. it never went away, it just transformed,” you confess.

Violet’s once worried expression morphs. She’s still soft, still trapped in the beautiful moment, but there’s a newfound confidence behind her demeanor. 

“The love I have for you has stayed the same. Ever since that stupid writing class—” you giggle at her words, and she does the same, “I think I’ve loved you for years. It’s left such an ache in my heart, baby.” 

There’s a glitch somewhere in your brain, because the athlete’s words mixed with your newest nickname is causing a system overload. 

You’re suddenly very aware of the amber musk filling your nostrils, and Vi’s proximity has you squirming, soft hand gently squeezing at hers which carresses you so gingerly. You’re trapped between the headboard and her oh-so-close body, and it’d be a lie to say any part of you is complaining. 

“I can.. I can make that ache go away,” you whisper, shy head tilting as you wait for her approval. 

The suave, player-like girl is back in full force. With a notorious smirk in place, she’s leaning closer, tilting her head opposite of yours and lining up her plush lips with yours. 

“Yeah, you can.” 

That’s all it takes for your lips to come crashing together at full force. It’s messy, loving, and infuriatingly sexy all at once, and you don’t have any brain power left to think about it. All of your energy, every bit of your soul is being put into showing this girl how you really feel. 

The atmosphere feels heavier and lighter simultaneously in the best way possible. Vi’s kissing you like you’re the air she needs to breathe, and drinking you in like your mouth is water and the torturous years leading up to this have taken place in the desert. 

For the first time, the pair of you silently agree that this is real. Real touches, real passion, real tongues gliding against one another, and real desire for more. 

You hum into Vi’s mouth as she ravishes you, and your hands find their way to tangle in her fluffy scalp as she effortlessly switches places with you and lifts you into her lap while she relaxes back against the headboard. You can’t help but chuckle as her hands move to cup the fat of your ass, causing her to grin through kisses until you finally stop, because your lips are practically peppering her teeth. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask through a snicker. Vi shakes her head, sneaking kisses down your jaw and the stretch of your neck. 

“Nothin’, I just don’t want this to end,” she confesses, ending with a tender kiss to your collarbone. 

An uncontrollable smile fights its way onto your face. 

“Well I’m not going anywhere,” you assure.

She nods, wrapping strong arms around your torso to pull your body as close to hers as possible. 

“Neither am I, sunshine.” 

Violet’s learned three new things since you fell asleep in her arms. 

One, you’re a cuddler. Every inch of you has touched, skimmed, or wrapped around the butch since you laid upon the soft matter of the bed. Her favorite position is when you curl yourself up against her chest and slide a leg inbetween hers to let them intertwine.

Two, every inch of you still smells like that perfect mixture of cotton candy and strawberry she remembers from years ago. 

And three, she’s completely whipped for you. For your brain, your voice, the giggles you make between kisses, the way you give your all to her, and don’t get her started on your body. She’s got it bad. 

So, the struggle she faced when she had to snake out of your grasp was ultimately the hardest thing she’s done in her entire life. 

The love-hazed girl didn’t bother to do anything but slip on some shoes and run a hand through her hair, because within minutes she’d be right back next to you where she belongs. 

At least, that was the plan. 

She doesn’t know why the loud cacophony of cackles catches her attention, because she knows how obnoxious her teammates can be, but it does. She lazily turns her head once, letting it lull back before the alarm of confusion goes off in her brain, and she’s turning towards the sound once again. 

Sevika, a few members of the basketball team, and some others she doesn’t recognize, all sit against the couches and chairs in the lounging area. But there’s no relaxation in the way they rest against the furniture. Each is laced with anticipation, and their eyes all lay on the buff brownskin girl who’s smirks as if she’s discovered a pot of gold. 

“Your voice of honey soothes my soul, and the picture of delicate curls falling to frame your face as you lift me onto my feet will stay forever plastered in my mind,” the woman spits.

The words are so sensual, so raw, so genuine, filled with nothing but passion, but Sevika’s interpretation does it no justice. 

And Violet knows exactly who wrote those words of desire. 

Her feet move quicker than she’s ever felt the need to before. 

When she nears the group, a face of pure determination, she spots it. A brown envelope, decorated with a bow and pretty hearts accompanied by a single kiss mark. So similar to the one you made for Vi all those years ago. 

“There’s the woman of the hour,” Sevika taunts loudly, leaning back in her seat. Her fingers tap the letter in her hands against her own thigh, a reminder that your past words of hope and love still lie with her. “Or, would you be the second? No… no, that’d be this uh, Skye, huh?” 

Sevika’s smile is poisonous, infecting Violet with a rage she’s never experienced before. 

“What are you doing with that?” Vi’s practically seething, eyes trained on the brown paper between Sevika’s fingers.

“Found it on the ground, guess it slipped away from your girl before she could mail it off to her secret lover,” she lies, throwing her hands up in faux innocence. 

“I swear to God— fucking give it to me, and I’ll forget this happened.”

“And you’ll forget that she’s dreaming of someone else’s mouth?” The burly woman scoffs, coming to a stand directly infront of Violet. The space between them is thinning, disintegrated by rageful tension.

“Seriously, I don’t see why you’re going through all this trouble for a whore, pinkie.” 

Faster than anyone in the room can register, Vi’s fist comes up to smash into Sevika’s jaw. The slam is loud, echoing throughout the room until it creates a stunned silence.

Sevika’s hand comes up to hold her jaw, craning it as the metallic taste of blood sets itself on her tongue. 

Within seconds, she’s lunging right at Vi. Their fists look like skin colored blobs in the air from how fast they land punches to one another’s guts. They’re thrashing around in anger, threatening the space they reside in, before four onlookers break them apart.

Some whoop and holler, others laugh and speculate exactly who ‘won’, but neither of the girls care. Through their heavy panting and darkened gazes, they’re only focused on one thing: the brown envelope that now lies between Vi’s fingers. 

With a cocky, bruised grin and the satisfying drug of adrenaline, Violet turns on her heels and stumbles out of sight. 

[REDACTED]: listen, toots. i have a better plan.  … [REDACTED]: I’m listening. 

With the way neither of you dare to move, any third party would think the two of you are paralyzed; and you are, by love.

It’s been five minutes since you’ve woken up, and Vi’s sweet gaze keeps you in a warm, butterfly inducing trance. Neither of you move from your position in the bed, savouring deep synced breaths, snuggling under the blankets, and wrapping around one another. You’re sticking together like your feelings are superglue. 

Finally, one of the pinkette’s hands rubs at the small of your back, drawing sweet nothings on your dimples and the line that trails up your perfect torso. 

“I haven’t slept that long in ages,” you hum, making Violet pull you just a bit closer. 

“Maybe you should sleep with me every night,” she concludes, sending you a smile that has you giggling with a little ‘oh sure’. 

She sees your sweet bubble of happiness wobble when your eyes squint at the sight of her chin, now decorated with a blossomed bruise. A soft hand comes up to graze the purple mark as you ask, “When did that happen?” 

As fast as the pinkette opens her mouth to speak, it shuts. Because she definitely can’t tell you that Sevika’s tried to embarrass you by reading one of your old love letters to a group of your classmates. Why has she become more of a pain now than ever? Vi hasn’t figured that out yet. But she has come to one conclusion: worrying you wouldn’t do any good. What you didn’t have to know, you wouldn’t. 

She quickly takes your wandering hand in hers, intertwining fingers and giving them a little squeeze. 

“I’m fine, sunshine. Got up all hazy last night to turn the light off since we forgot. Completely ran into the wall, that’s all.” Although Vi isn’t a klutz, it seems like a perfectly plausible story, so you don’t push. 

You only chuckle, shaking your head. “Be more careful. I have to get you home in one piece.” 

A soft smile spreads across her face, and she’s kissing your knuckles while responding. “Of course, angel.” 

While you scolded Vi about her bruises, you were set up to get some of your own. 

“Vi I’m not sure if this is a great idea,” you worry, looking down at the girl who gets on her knees to lace up your skates. 

The freezing temperature kissed your nose a subtle hint of red, but the beautiful sunlight gently coating the flurry white wonderland that surrounded the city made up for it. All around you, classmates and city locals of all ages glide around the ice rink with glee. Sounds of love, joy, and the squeals or laughter of tripping inexperienced-skaters fill your ears. 

“Why not?” she asks, eyes flickering up to yours for just a second before moving on to the other foot. The picture of her is just all too much, and you have to look away to regather your thoughts. 

“I know that you’re a hockey player so this may come as a shock to you, but not everyone is good at ice skating,” she grins, rolling her eyes at your sarcasm. “I’m just gonna fall on my ass a bunch,” you whine.

“And I’ll be right there to pick you back up.” Vi’s confidence melts away your worries. Finally, as she finishes with your skates, you playfully roll your eyes and come to a stand (with the help of her strong hands). 

The thinning space between you two and your starry eyes which look up at Vi keep her in a trance as her arms mindlessly wrap around your waist, hands dangerously close to your ass. 

“Promise not to let me go?” you whisper through a grin.

“Shit. I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

And she doesn’t. Through your first steps and little slips on the ice, Vi stands right beside you, holding your hand with tender care. 

“This is pretty romantic, right?” she hums in your ear as you attempt to push your feet against the ice like she taught you. 

“As long as I don’t completely eat it.” you warn, eyes trained to the ice.

She snickers.

“Well, you look sexy when you’re focused, I’ll give you that.”

Butterflies erupt throughout your stomach, and a warmth is travelling up your body as you look at Violet with a faux sternness. 

“Quiet. You’re distracting me,” you tease.

Vi’s tongue pokes at the inside of her cheek in thought before she’s letting go of your hand and coming to stand right infront of you. Sculpted arms snake around your waist, and the lack of space between you two as Vi stares with a hungry gaze is making your body feel weak. 

“I’m distracting you, sweetheart?” 

You quietly suck in a breath of icy cold air, searching for a response in her pretty powder-blue eyes before she snickers once more, stepping back. At last, you feel like you can breathe.

She takes you around the ice, helping you reach a good foundation to feel comfortable skating on your own, and the ‘good job, baby’ she praises you with sends a sweet sensation throughout your body. As you’re gliding away from her, giggling in surprise as she pretends to chase you with her intimidating hockey stance, a group of her teammates call for her attention.

She pauses, breath kissing your ear as she lets go of your body. “I’ll just be a second, yeah?” 

You nod, sending her off to the group with a smile. 

And for a moment, everything’s perfect. Until it isn’t. 

The call of your name from her mouth freezes your body faster than the chill of the ice ever could. Effortlessly, Caitlyn’s gliding up to you with a calculated and calm expression. She knows you can’t get far in those skates. 

First, you’re praying that Vi will look over at you and race back just in time to save you. Then, anger’s bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and you whip around to make eye contact with the navy-haired girl. Finally—

“What, Caitlyn?” you snap without hesitation. 

The girl’s expression refuses to waver, and toned arms are crossing with the notorious sly smirk of a Kiramman. “Never thought I’d see you with blades on your feet.” 

“Never thought I’d see you begging for attention, but here we are,” you quip, placing your hands on your hips, completely distracted from the ice below you. 

Her arms uncross with an amused hum, and for a moment you think that maybe she’s getting off on the negative energy you throw her way. But then she begins to push her skates against the ice, slowly circling you. 

“I just thought I’d check in on you, sweetheart. You’ve forgotten to answer my calls and texts–”

“You know damn well I haven’t forgotten, Cait—”

“—And I wanted to applaud you in person for being so understanding about what happened with Violet and I.”

She comes to a stop, and so does your heart. The little red organ skips a beat before continuing, pace matching your weariness. 

“What are you talking about?” you question, brows furrowed so innocently that Caitlyn has to stop herself from laughing.

“She hasn’t told you?” The bluenette makes no attempt to act shocked. Your eyes lock, and her skates scrape against the ice until she’s hovering right over you. 

“Weren’t you wondering where she slept after you left her at the jacuzzi?” The visible air that blows from her mouth is just as harsh as her words, stabbing your heart with its icicles.  

“What are you..” you mutter, but the words die in your throat.

“Vi and I had a… rekindling.” Her head tilts with a cocky smile. “It was bound to happen I suppose. Once a hookup, always a—”

“I don’t believe you.” Your stern words contradict the uncertainty tainting your voice. 

Caitlyn doesn’t speak. She simply reaches into her back pocket, pulls out her phone, and scrolls to open her messages with Vi, gently placing the device into your quivering fingers.

Really? My ex girlfriend? You’re a class act. i’ll love her better than you ever could, caitlyn Is this to get back at me? You’re the one who ended our little affair. stop texting my number. Come to think of it, I never told her about us.  Does she even know?  fucking drop it cait You have until the end of the trip.  If you don’t tell her, I will. you don’t care whether she knows or not. you just want her crawling back to you. not happening.  I’ll tell her.

“You see it now? How easy it was for her to lie to you? She doesn’t love you, not like I do.” 

“Angel?” Vi’s voice calls out. The once sweet melody to your ears now erupts a symphony of confusion and anger inside of you. Did she plan out those nicknames?

Before you know it, Vi’s coming up behind you and placing an arm around your waist. Instead of feeling comfort, you’re suffocated. How can she fake it so easily?

“Can I help you?” the pink haired girl spits to the Kiramman with a voice of pure disgust. How could you have known?

“I was just leaving,” Caitlyn hums. With the fulfilling sight of your aghast eyes and Violet’s hidden panic, she skates off. 

The two of you are uncomfortably quiet for a moment. Your body’s still, save for the racing thoughts in your mind, but when Vi’s hand on you tightens you’re breaking from her grasp.

And then she sees it.

The broken gaze in your sorrowful eyes, the one look she desperately wanted to avoid. Her worst nightmare has become her reality. 

And you see it.

The way her gaze goes from calm and collected to a deer in headlights. It’s like a switch was flipped in her brain, and Violet’s mask comes off as she speaks. 

“I can explain—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your heartbroken voice drowns her out. 

“You don’t understand,” she pleas, but you’re pushing your weight into one foot in an attempt to turn yourself around on the ice.

“I understand perfectly fine you backstabbing–”

Your knees come slamming into the icy ground with a thud, and the newly proclaimed backstabber is at your side, attempting to lift you onto your feet. You shove her off with a huff, using one knee to come to a wobbly stand. 

“Just..” you start, ignoring the tears of frustration that bubble in the corners of your eyes, accompanied by the prickly curse in your throat. “Just stay away from me, Vi.” 

And you’re gone.

Vi obeys your wishes and leaves you alone like you asked.

But only for the next two hours, while she figures out what the hell she’s going to say to make up for the pain she’s caused you. Because she did hook up with Cait, but the last time was was months ago, before either of them had anything with you. Because she knows Cait did something to fuck with your head, and now her baby’s fretting and scared to trust anyone. Because she’s in love with you and only you, and she’s never going to forgive herself if she doesn’t get you back. 

So when she slips into your shared room and finds you packing your things, she braces herself for the yelling and cussing she expects to come.

But, it never happens. Instead, you look at her with a woeful expression, and turn back to your open luggage with a scoff. 

“I knew Caitlyn was fucked up, but I never imagined you’d have as many screws loose. You’ll be perfect for each other,” you spit, the words acid to Violet. Manicured hands move at a fast pace, roughly tossing in clothes and skin products like they mean nothing to you. “And I know we’re not actually dating, but to fuck the one person we’re trying to lie to? Then come to me the next day acting like you…” you trail off, discarding the sentence like trash, but she knows what you were trying to say: like you love me. 

Wait, what?

“Hold on, hold on. I haven’t fucked Kiramman.”

“..So you weren’t with her the night I slept in Mel’s room?” you squint.

“Fuck no. It’s been months since we’ve hooked up, angel. Like, before you and her were even a thing–”

“So you did fuck! Jesus, why didn’t you tell me?” you raise your voice in question, whipping around to face the girl with exhausted body language. When Vi’s mouth hangs open with no clue of a better response than ‘I was scared’, you shake your head, coming to conclusions yourself.

“That’s why you did this, right? I should’ve asked more about why you proposed this whole scheme,” you start, walking towards the nightstand. “Make me look like an idiot? Get back at Cait? Get with Cait? What was it?” 

“No– no. I was going to tell you angel, God I swear, I just didn’t know how to tell you without making it hurt. I don’t want anything with Caitlyn, cross my heart, her and I are history. Everything I said about you– everything I felt with you is real.” She’s speaking so tenderly, inching closer to your frame.

And you would’ve turned, would’ve calmed down enough to finish this conversation civilly, maybe believe her. 

But instead, you’re staring at the opened drawer of the bedside table, right at the chesnut brown envelope decorated with hearts. The same one you wrote for Skye all those years ago. 

You’re completely over this.

Violet’s close enough to see everything now. The envelope and letter, the way your face is morphing through thousands of different expressions, and the tears that finally begin to slide down your cheeks as you lift the paper into the air and choke out words.

“Why the hell do you have this? How much did you plan to humiliate me, huh?” you ask through sweet sobs.

Violet sighs, because everything she’s kept from you is hitting her. All of her mistakes are crashing down upon her at once. All she wants is to fix it for you. 

“That’s not– fuck this looks bad.” She’s cursing herself for everything she didn’t tell you, all the chances she had to come clean and never did out of fear. 

“Sevika had it and I took it from her. We fought over it and I hid it here because I didn’t want you to be embarrassed. That’s all. I swear.” 

She watches your glossy eyes flicker to her bruised jaw that you touched so lovingly that morning, to her eyes that beg you to forgive her, and to your bag as you walk towards it.

“Well you don’t have to worry about me anymore, Violet. This– us, whatever we are is done. ” You knuckle away your tears, sniffing and pulling at the handle of your suitcase.

The pinkette takes no action to hide the dread that fills her face, quickly following your motion around the room. 

“So we’re just breaking–” she stops. Her heart is racing at an ungodly speed, and the next words come out as a horrified mumble, “We’re just over? Like that?” 

There’s a pregnant pause, and for the last time, you look back at Vi, voice clear. 

“We were never together, Violet.” 

There’s nothing she can say to rebuttal, or stop you from walking out of that room, because despite both of your desires, it was true. 

For the next two days, your bed becomes your safe haven. You put your phone on ‘do not disturb’, wrap yourself in the thickest blanket your apartment has, and hide from the rest of the world. It’s only thanks to Mel, who’s worried to death, that you remember to eat every once in a while.

Safe to say, you’re a wreck. 

Three soft knocks on your bedroom door prompt you to roll over, and you’re pulling your head from the covers as the aforementioned beauty enters the room with a plated sandwich in hand. 

“I have something for that headache of yours,” she offers, setting the platter on your bedside table and sitting at the edge of the soft mattress. 

From your blanket-clad vision, you see her lips press together in thought before she finally decides on her carefully sculpted words. 

“I talked to Abby,” she starts. You groan, pulling yourself back under the blankets.

“Listen,” she scolds, and you bite your tongue. Hard. “I talked to Abby and she says Violet slept in her room that night. She was moping about you the entire time.” 

“She didn’t tell me about her and Caitlyn,” you seethe.  

“No, but she said she was going to, right?” She offers, tilting her head. “In the end, does it really change anything about how you two feel towards each other?” 

When you don’t respond, she sighs, patting your blanket and coming to a stand. 

“It’s your decision what you do, but I can tell Violet really cares about you. And I think you feel the same.”

With that, she’s stepping out of the room and gently closing your door with a click.  

Almost immediately, your head pokes out of the blanket, and your gaze travels to your now black lockscreen lighting up.

One message from Caitlyn.

caitlyn: Are you ready to apologize to me? I’ll still take you back. 

You block her number. Something you should’ve done a long time ago. 

Then, you check the three messages from Vi. 

superstar <3: i know you want me to leave you alone, and i’m trying my hardest to please let me talk to you angel whenever you’re ready to hear me out

You can only sigh. 

“I don’t know how else to get this through to both of you.”

Coach Talis’s sharp tongue scolds the winded athletes. Sweat is dripping down every inch of their skin under their heavy gear. While their teammates ended practice an hour ago, they were here running drills for the ‘stunt’ they pulled back at Mt. Sky. If it weren’t for the exhaustion capturing their bodies, they’d be pummeling each other this very second.

“I’m this close to benching both of you, and you know I don’t want to do that.” Both girls rapidly shake their heads.

“This better be the last time I hear of an incident regarding the both of you, do you understand?” The tanned man snaps, and both athletes are throwing out soft “yes coach”’s before he waves them off to the locker room. 

Throughout her entire shower, Violet’s brain is focused on two things. One, how much she loathes Sevika (fuck her), and two, how much she fucking misses you. 

Throughout her time spent drying herself off, getting redressed, and packing her backpack, she prays for a text, call, something from you. When she hears the buzz of a phone, she’s whipping her head around to face her lockscreen (with her favorite picture of you looking effortlessly beautiful and silly simultaneously). 

It’s not until the second buzz goes off that she realizes it’s not her phone that’s being blown up, but Sevika’s. 

Despite better judgement, she curiously walks over to the device, reaching down to pick it up with careless hands.

And it almost drops from her calloused fingers in shock. 

There’s three notifications from ‘C. Kiramman’.

c. kiramman: That worked better than I thought. You’re not as dumb as you look.  c. kiramman: I think our work together is done. C. Kiramman sent you $300!

You’re at war with yourself.

Your brain is clawing at you to block Violet, get yourself together, and move on with your life as if she was never a part of it.

Your heart and every inch of hope that fills you is begging for you to pick up your phone and give her a chance to prove that it was all a case of bad timing, misunderstandings, and that you truly mean something to her. Because you want her, you can finally admit it, but you’re deathly afraid of being made a fool of.

You’d skipped classes for the day, pulled yourself from your sheets, showered, and now sit on your black couch with a little sigh, sinking into the fluffy matter. The silence of the apartment is contrasting the swarm of loud thoughts inside your mind, and before it can drive you utterly insane, the doorbell rings. 

“Angel?” That sweet voice calls out.

You rise to your feet embarrassingly fast. Your brain waves a white flag and your heart dances in success. 

When you swing the door open, it takes everything in you to keep yourself from jumping into Violet’s arms. She’s worried out of her mind, but the surprise that you even opened the door is giving her a jolt of hope and encouragement. You take in her presence, musk amber scent, oversized jacket that once protected your arms, and all. 

“I’m so sorry,” spills from her lips, and you scan her expression before stepping to the side. 

“Come in.” 

You and Vi sit on opposite ends of your couch. You’re trying to show off your self control, but she’s just glad you’ll sit next to her at all. 

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you about my past with Caitlyn. I was scared that you’d hate me, and shit it all just caught up with me before I could grow some balls and rip the bandaid off.” 

You’ve never seen her look so worried, so vulnerable. 

You take one scoot closer. 

“But I promise, I ended things with her a long time ago and that was the last time we ever did anything.”

She’s pulling out her phone, opening the photos app, and setting her phone down face up on the cushions for you to take. You do, picking it up with weary fingers, ones that still when you see the material she’s revealing.

“Caitlyn hired Sevika to fuck with us. That time at the party, all those times she got me in shit at practice, taking your letter, even giving Caitlyn the idea of lying that I did something with her. They’ve been trying to get inbetween us for a long time.” 

Your mouth is slightly agape as you scroll through monetary payments and texts from your ex. Ones about her getting you back (fuck that), and others about Sevika getting the spotlight once Vi’s burnt out and screwing up at hockey (again, fuck that). 

“I get why you’re pissed at me, and I understand if you want me out of your life forever.” It shakes her to even utter those words. “But I…” 

She’s biting her lip, and you watch as she pulls a neatly folded piece of loose leaf paper from her pocket. With embarrassment flushing her face, she sets it on the couch for you to take.

“What’s this?” you ask softly, taking it in your hands and gently unfolding.

“Please don’t read it out loud.” 

Your heart quickens at the suspense, and your fingers come to a stop as Violet’s handwriting fills your vision. 

Dear _____, 

Oh my god.

The words fill your mind and apparently show through your eyes, because when you look at Violet once more, she’s looking more sheepish than ever.

With a deep breath, you read. 

I’ve been in love with you for so long, longer than I ever realized, and I never knew how much it warmed my heart and brightened my days until I lost you. The way your eyes light up when you laugh, the loud laugh that takes over your body when we’re alone, the quiet moments we shared, where we didn’t need words, just the way our hands fit together so perfectly. How being near you made everything feel like it was right, even when nothing else made sense. All of the little things that make you, you, have become the moments I crave most. 

I know I’ve messed up. Been too wrapped up inside my head and covered in fear to tell you the entire truth, but I miss us. I miss your laugh, your smile, the way we would talk about everything and nothing all at once. I wrapping my arm around your waist or kissing your neck cheek nose forehead and feeling like everything was right in the world when we were together. And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you. I’m not asking for everything to go back to normal right away, because I know things take time. But I want to try again, if you’ll let me.

You’re worth every second, every inch of love that exists throughout my blood, and I will spend the rest of my days trying to show you just how much you mean to me.

-With all my love, yours truly, Violet

In the eleventh grade, you thought you loved Violet more than humanely possible.

Now, you wonder how shocked your younger self would be to hear that amount has grown exponentially. 

"I know it's bad. I'm not a genius like you bu-"

Lips smashing into hers silence any worries that the letter didn’t do its job. Your plush mouthes press against one another’s with a passion so deep, so genuine, that it speaks louder than any words you’ve spoken; louder than any love letter either of you have written. 

You faintly pull back, giggling breathily as Vi chases your lips with a look sweet enough to give you a heart attack. With touching foreheads and closed, relaxed eyes, you use the same words as when you first fell in love with her. Except this time– you say them out loud. 

“From my happily raised eyebrows to my.. gosh however I worded it. Y’know that was so corny now that I think about it,” you begin to whisper, and giggles erupt from both of your mouthes. You hum, placing another chaste kiss on her swollen lips. “I love you, Violet Vanderson. I really, really love you.” 

The warmth radiating from your soul and the heat of your intertwined bodies is all too much. It does anything but help when Violet places soft kisses on your cheek, ones that trail down to your jaw and the base of your neck as she gently pulls you into her lap. 

“Do you–” she places a kiss, “forgive me?” The suck and lick she gives to your neck sends a shudder down your spine. Wait, what’d she ask again? 

“I don’t know,” you hum teasingly, feeling her smirk against your wet skin. “I think you should work for it.” 

“Whatever you want. Tell me what you want, baby.” 

Fuck. How can words make your eyes roll into the back of your head? 

“Want you to—” 

You gasp as she slides her tongue down your neck, coming to kiss at your collarbones.

“Use your words, sweet girl,” she whispers sensually. 

“Fuck. I want you.” 

That’s all she needs, and Violet’s sliding a cold hand up your shirt, inching it up slowly over your bra and refusing to break eye contact. The action has you whimpering into submission, and you huff.

“You’re such a tease.” You complain.

“You’ll take it,” she hums, finally pulling the shirt over your head and going straight for the clasp of your bra. 

You take the time to trail a hand under her own shirt, letting your finger tips trail over her abs, and you gasp as your already hard nipples twitch from the newfound cold air when Vi tosses your bra to the side. 

“God you’re beautiful,” is the last thing she says before diving head first into your chest. The room is filled with soft kissing sounds, wet licks and pop’s from Vi’s mouth on your nubs, and your moans of pleasure when she twists at whatever nipple isn’t getting her mouth’s attention.

“Vi– babe please. Need you now.” 

She groans against your sensitive skin, releasing you from her mouth. 

“Need me now, baby?” The girl mocks your neediness with a smirk.

“Yeah, yes please,” you whimper out, and she snickers at how you’re already too dazed to focus. 

She decides she’s played with your tits enough (for now), and pulls you right back into a messy, tongue infested kiss as she flips your position. You lean against the couch as she reluctantly separates your lips, sliding kisses down the middle of your torso as her strong hands work at pulling down your pants terribly slowly. 

Once they’re off, and you think you’re free as she runs a finger along the middle of your panties, right over your clothed heat. She hums at the way you buck forward. Her just graze along the seam as you speak. 

“I’m not– mmm, feeling very forgiving right now…” you scold, eyes so gone that Violet has to stop herself from apologizing. 

“Do you want my mouth or fingers to change that?” she asks, and she can’t hold back the laugh any longer when your eyes unknowingly light up. 

“Mouth– both– Vi anything, just give me it now.” 

She laughs, finally pulling your underwear down at a reasonable pace and scolding you gently.

“We’ll work on fixing your tone another time.” 

She leaves the tiny fabric hanging off one of your delicate ankles, mumbling something about how fuckable you look sprawled out for her like this. The girl’s quick to effortlessly spread your legs, and she gulps at how slick and glistening your cunt is all for her. 

“Fuck me, baby,” she mutters in awe.

“I’m trying to,” you whine, taking her back to the present where you and your body are completely at her mercy.

Finally, your prayers are answered, and she’s licking a clean line straight up your pussy, taking a river of juices with her pleasure-inducing tongue. 

As if the taste enchants her, Vi’s dropping her head down to your needy heat. Her tongue lulls out, swirling against your clit, your hole, anywhere she can make you feel good. It’s not long before two thick fingers plunge into you, and you’re throwing your head back. 

“Oh my god, please please– yes.”

“Please? Please what, sweetheart?” she mocks once more. Your moans motivate the muscle-flexing girl to go deeper, go faster, and she has to hold you still when you arch from how sweet her digits hit your g-spot. 

The way she’s drinking your cunt sucks away your thoughts as well, and it’s not until she hands a harsh slap to your ass that you’re blinking, babbling something about needing to cum. 

“You can do it baby, yeah good girl. Fuck.” 

Sweet praises decorated with the perfect mixture of her fingers, tongue, and the lust-laced eye contact send you over the edge, and your loud moans carry throughout the entire space as you finish. 

Vi’s tools don’t stop, not until you’ve completely come down from the best high of your life, not until your shaky hand is gently placing itself over hers in silent appreciation. 

When your heavy pants are all that’s left to be heard, she kisses your cunt goodbye and says hello to your lips. A strong hand on the back of your head keeps your mouth pressed against hers, and you love it. Because you’re sure you could twist lips with this girl until you pass out from forgetting to breathe. 

“Taste yourself?” she whispers once her tongue’s slid out of your mouth. You can only nod, relishing in the way her arms wrap around your body, a silent insinuation that you’re hers to protect.

With a hum, you’re kissing both of her cheeks, then her nose and forehead in thanks as her chin rests against your chest.

“I guess that was a good enough apology.” You fake dissatisfaction, completely ignoring the way your body presses even further into hers while you smooth a hand through her hair. 

She snickers in disbelief.

“Think you need another? Just to see how sorry I am, of course.” 

You hum, finally shrugging with an inconcealable smile.

“I guess that’d work.” 

Vi makes no complaint, because why on earth would she, and she’s kissing a line right back where she started.

“Is this too over the top? The number six was fine but the hand prints? Do I look like a high schooler? Be honest—” 

Mel cuts off your babbling with a laugh. “You didn’t want to look like a high schooler?” 

You’re whining from your position in the stands, and Mel’s apologizing for her joke as she confirms you look amazing. “Vi’s already seen you, and she seemed to love it,” she coos in your ear, bumping her hip against yours as you laugh. 

And the girl’s right. Throughout the game, Vi’s taken glances at you every second she gets. She’s grinning at the pink body paint handprints that travel up your legs, winking when you blow her kisses everytime your gazes lock, chuckling at how loud you get when you cheer ‘go Vi!’, and don’t get her started on how you’re body is clad in her big jersey. 

Yeah, she’s completely whipped. 

There’s only two minutes left in the game, and the Piltover Knights are winning 2-4. But you’re not entirely focused on the screaming atmosphere or Vi’s upcoming victory, because all you can think about is how hot and aggressive your girlfriend looks in her element.

There’s a jolt of joy that zips up your body, because: yeah, that’s your girlfriend. 

The horn chugs to signal the end of the match and the crowd’s roaring with glee, especially you and Mel, who jump up and down while screaming out for your respective players. 

Vi throws you a toothy smile from the ice, one that you see again after she exits the locker room and comes to find ‘her girl’ in the loitering crowd. 

She embraces and lifts you into the air, spinning you around as if you’re a feather in her grasp. Each giggle that spills from your lips is more joyous than the last, just like every moment you spend together. 

“You were so cool out there! Never seen you look so mad and focused,” you praise your pink-haired girl as she sets you down, placing a warm kiss to the top of your head.

“That’s because you bring out the good in me. I’m usually all rude and scary and—”

“With that hair?” you tease, ruffling your hand through her fluff. “You’re not fooling anybody, pinkie.” 

Vi’s jaw drops in shock. 

“Pinkie?” she repeats with a squinted gaze. 

A beat passes, and you’re turning to run away, but it’s too late. The athlete lunges forward, wrapping her arms around your core to trap you as you fake complain in protest, but giggles are soon falling from your mouth and breaking your character. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” her playful words kiss your ear.

“Oh whatever, you love me.” you grin through the claim, turning your head to have her beautiful face in your vision. 

Vi’s smile softens into something genuine as she scans over your pretty face. Your astonishing, stunning– fuck there are so many things she could say about your face, about your heart, about your brain, about you. 

“Yeah. I really, really do.” 

Sparkled blue eyes connect with yours, and they’re sending you into a trance as you’re lured into a tender kiss. 

With every kiss, the world around you is drowned out until it’s just you and Violet. Your minds, bodies, and hearts intertwine, and with each connection of your lips, you taste everything she feels.

It’s perfect, even better than you could’ve imagined from that creative writing class, and it gets better everyday that you live the reality.

From the grasp of your passionate kiss, as colors of blue, auburn, chestnut brown and more pass by you, you smile knowing that safe in your arms lies your perfect pink. 

©silknspice

[siriuslylantsov]

afterglow

pairing: joel miller x reader

description: in which, you spend an evening with joel on valentines day.

tags: MDNI! smut and fluff, established relationship, jackson!joel, fem!reader, sickeningly cute, so so much kissing, soft!joel (but hes also kinda dirty, i can't help myself), age gap (it was thought about when writing but it's not explicitly stated so imagine whatever), oral (f receiving, munch joel!! everyone cheered), fingering, unprotected piv (he pulls out), soft!dom joel kinda, aftercare, r and j's relationship is new but its implied that she already has a close relationship with ellie.

a/n: happy valentines day cuties!!! my gift to you. this started off super cute and soft and then two thirds of it became smut, idk where that came from. anywho, happy reading!!

wc: 3k

“hi darlin’,” joel says as you open the door. 

the early evening sun casts a soft orange glow over the side of face, complementing his complexion perfectly. a shy, crooked smile tugs at his lips, the dimple on his right cheek deepening. one arm is folded behind him, holding something from your view and the other is planted against the frame of your door.

“hi baby,” you reply, giggling as you step forward to kiss him.

he accepts your lips eagerly, using the hidden arm to curl around your waist. you hear the faint crinkle of paper against your back. you hum sweetly into the kiss, pulling away to see what he’s got for you. a small bouquet appears between your bodies–a humble bunch of white and purple flowers that could handle growing in the cold weather, along with some that you suspect the gardeners had a role in providing. 

“maria went on patrol with me today and helped me pick some o’ these out,” he explains, watching you toy with a lilac petal of a flower he can't be damned to remember the name of. “d’ya like em?”

your fingers rake softly through his beard, coaxing his gaze upward until his eyes meet yours. tears gather at your waterline, and joel should probably be alarmed—but he’s grown used to it, having been there for so many of your firsts. apparently, getting flowers was one of them too.

“i’ve never got flowers before,” you admit in a hushed whisper, sickening adoration pooling into your body, making you feel warm all over despite the cold air that sneaks its way into your house.

joel takes note of the wind picking up and guides you inside, a solid hand at the small of your back. he takes your dazed figure all the way to the kitchen, grinning amusedly at how you continue to admire the bouquet. he looks through your cabinets for something tall enough, settling when he finds a mason jar that would be perfect. 

“i really like these, joel.” you smile up at him when he's in front of you again. he's holding his hand out expectantly and the jar filled with water in the opposite one. you give him the flowers with a reluctant pout, following him to the counter where he begins to set them up.

“‘m glad,” he expresses warmly, untying the ribbon that held the stems together. “damn shame i couldn't get you roses, the garden ran out pretty quick.”

you can’t help the fond smile that spreads across your face as you watch him try to organise the flowers nicely, carefully moving them around so he doesn't accidentally pull off a petal. when he's happy with his arrangement he turns back to you, neatly folding up the brown paper that wrapped the bouquet and placing it in your palm. “ellie made me promise to tell you that she helped with that so keep it in mind, i guess,” he says, nodding to the doodles of leaves that were peppered along the edges.

“noted,” you laugh, picturing her fiery, insisting nature with ease. you gotta fuckin’, i don’t know, make it pretty for her, joel. just ugh- give it to me. 

suddenly, you remember the muffins that were kept warm in the oven. you scurry over there wordlessly, causing joel to twitch confusedly. you take the tray out with quick fingers, holding a muffin out for joel. 

“it's a new recipe, cinnamon and pear,” you explain excitedly as he walks over to you. when he looks down at it, he sees you’ve managed to orchestrate two small slices of fruit to sit in a heart shape and it's awfully cute.

your eyes are trained intently on him as he takes a bite. it's instantly the best thing he's ever tasted but he chews thoughtfully for a few more seconds so it doesn't look like he's making his mind up on a whim. admittedly, he is but it's also just that good. the texture of the warm cooked pear complimenting the firm but soft spiced crumb of the muffin. he hums in approval when he swallows, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“sweetheart, this is really fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, his voice rough in appreciation as he dusts off muffin remnants that have stuck to his bottom lip. 

you beam, extremely pleased. you wait as he finishes eating. not that long, apparently, as two big bites later, it’s gone. he reaches up with his free hand and tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, twirling it before letting it fall.

“so about today,” he starts and you hum attentively. “thought we’d take a walk around that part of town that you like and then go feed the horses. maybe go back to mine if there's time.”

-

the walk is perfect. you swing your joined hands between your bodies, smiling to yourself while joel complains about his brother. the air is solemn, the overwhelming scent and sound of love seeping out of every house you walk by. you never thought life could be this good again or that you’d feel this good again. you owe it all to the mumblin’ grumblin’ man beside you, the one softly caressing your thumb with his own, bringing it up to his mouth so he can kiss the back of your hand. 

when you reach the stables, joel pulls out the carrots he had tucked away in his large jacket pocket. (you’d made a detour at the greenhouse before coming here.) you divide the carrots into equal pieces for the animals, setting aside an extra chunk for a horse you remember ellie being particularly fond of–shimmer, if you recall correctly. 

joel takes in the sight, endearing eyes unable to part from you. your hand reaching out calmly, vegetable centred in your palm, you bring it to the horse's mouths, giggling when their tongues peek out and tickle you. he crowds in behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle. you squirm a little when he tilts to press a kiss to your neck, claiming his lips are cold. 

“well, let me warm ‘em up, sweetheart.”

-

you make it to joel's front door well after sundown, stars shining like diamonds spilled across the night sky. you make a mental note to go stargazing with him and ellie, if she wants, when the weather gets warmer. for now, you just want to be inside. 

“she’s with her friend dina tonight,” joel answers your unasked, looming question. you bite back the smile that the words ‘friend’ and ‘dina’ prompt, knowing a lot more than joel about his kids’ relationship status. she's just waiting for the right time.

you turn around to him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “so what you’re saying,” you muse lightly. “is that we have the place to ourselves.”

“mhm,” he smirks.

you twist the door open, often left unlocked, and let yourself through. “well then. come on in, mr. miller.”

he trails behind you up the steps, fingers lacing with yours. you walk into his room with a quiet sigh, taking off your shoes and watching as he follows suit. you love his room, a cultivation of who he is within four walls. you switch on the lamp on his bedside table, refraining from turning the main light so a faint glow encompasses the room, just enough to see the softness in his beautiful brown eyes.

“kiss me?”

he clicks his teeth before lowering his lips to yours, “don’t have to ask.”

his moustache tickles your upper lip and the coarse hair of his beard grazes your chin lightly, but it's not irritating. you welcome the sensation, it being a feature of his that you adore so dearly. proving this, your nails scratch the patch of grey at his jaw. 

his tongue slips out, tracing the seam of your lips. a low sound escapes you when you grant him entrance, licking into your mouth languidly. there's no rush, there never is. it's a luxury that three months ago you would’ve laughed at, disbelief evident.

his hands find your waist, pulling your hips flush together. he slips off your jacket and greedily tugs at the hem of your shirt. you appease by lifting your arms. he reaches behind you when he gets your shirt off, deftly unclasping your bra. he does this all while kissing you, but when he finally gets your top half bare, he pulls away. to look.

“beautiful,” he exhales a quick, amazed breath that whooshes past his lips. he admires you unabashedly, trailing his hands up your sides and down your front. he nudges you gently, guiding you onto the bed, his frame looming over yours as you sit down. 

you look up at him with dopey, half-lidded eyes, sneaking eager hands under his flannel and undershirt. your fingers trace over his skin, pressing into the soft warmth of his stomach, his body heat sinking into your palms. “back at ya, cowboy."

he takes this as a sign to peel off his layers, pulling them off with ease and adding them to the pile of discarded clothes. you spend a moment gaping at his torso before he lowers himself on top of you, dragging his lips up your neck as he does so. you whine when he begins sucking at your pulse point, teeth scraping your skin every so often. his kisses go lower and lower as he toys with the button of your jeans. 

he kisses at your belly, lips catching on the exposed skin of your hips, then upper thighs as he slowly pulls your jeans and underwear down, purposefully avoiding where you need him most. he strips off his pants and boxers and nudges for you to scoot up the bed. you sink into the pile of pillows, joel not far behind as he sits bracketed by your thighs. he runs his hands up and down them, calloused fingertips caressing your skin, squeezing in intervals and leaning down to kiss them, kiss your knees and your calves.

“joel, please,” you whisper, growing a little antsy, his hands all over your body aren't helping. 

“impatient,” he tuts, but there's no real reprimand in his voice. “jus’ let me take my time with you.”

“will you at least come up here and kiss me while you're at it?” 

he smiles, “what’d i tell ya?”

“don't have to-” your poor impression of his southern drawl gets cut off by his lips on yours. you sigh dreamily into the kiss; you'll never get used to that feeling. his hand cradles your jaw, tilting it to deepen this kiss. you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking it into your mouth. 

a needy sound rumbles in the back of his throat, and with a reluctant pull, he breaks away, shifting back to the space between your legs. he's lying on his stomach, cheek pressed against your inner thigh as he waits for your approval. when you nod, he dives in, no time to waste.

he licks a fat stripe between your folds, causing you to cry out. he hooks an arm over your hips to cease your writhing. you could say joel miller eats you out like a man starved, but right now, it's more like a savoured meal, slow and leisurely in its pace. he takes his time, measured strokes of tongue that are assuredly making you feel all the right kinds of ways. you thread your fingers through his hair, so soft, tugging lightly and he hums. 

you dare to spare a glance down. it's deadly–him with his mouth attached to you like a vice and eyes staring up at you, decidedly looking like he belongs there. you want to look away but the sight is so enticing. 

“baby, more,” you ask breathlessly. “please.”

“yeah?” he sounds equally out of breath, tracing a middle and ring finger around your entrance. “this what you want?”

you nod pathetically with a meek “yes.”

he pushes in slowly, met with no resistance. he finds that spot fast, pressing his curled fingers up. his fingers are longer and thicker than yours, reaching places you’d never been able to. he persistently rubs up, pulling out a little only to go back fast, just the way you like. all the while, he does this thing with his tongue–god, that tongue–where he flicks it from side to side over your clit, flattening it when needed, and it is earth-shattering. 

that well-known feeling starts to build and you repeatedly tug at joel's hair, mewling softly, trying to signal him. he’d already figured you were close, but still, he nods. he lifts his head to see you, his thumb replacing his tongue. 

“c’mon, sweetheart. give it to me,” he urges you on, kissing your hip bone with slick wet lips and his fingers working fervently like it's the most important thing in the world. joel would argue that right now, it is. “know you want to.”

“joel, yes, oh fuck-” you keen, shuddering violently as you finish. he keeps going, working you through it, lapping up the mess when his fingers slip out. he can't get enough of you. you weakly push at his head, “baby, enough. s’too much.”

suddenly, he's on top of you again, rubbing a clean hand over your hair. “okay, okay,” he coos, his voice low and lulling. he presses gentle pecks to your neck, making his way back up to your lips. you kiss him again, more sluggish than previously, whimpering when you taste yourself on him. fuck, you need him. 

you carefully drift a hand between your bodies, curling your fingers around his length. he hisses, inhaling a sharp breath. “shit, are you sure-”

you press him against you, guiding his tip to your slit. “fuck me, joel,” you whisper, using your other hand to hold his face.

that's all he needs to hear before he starts sinking into you, simultaneously groaning as he does. he curses low, though it sounds and looks more like a whine when you see the way his face has twisted up in pleasure when his hips are flush with yours. you feel addictively full, so you hug your arms around his shoulders to prolong the moment. he buries his head in your neck, breathing shallowly as you flutter around him.

“gotta move angel, i gotta-” he gets cut off when you squeeze, nodding against his shoulder. 

he thrusts greedily, pulling out almost fully until he somehow goes in deeper. it’s not fast but it’s not slow either, just enough that it leaves you reeling when he draws his hips back. the stretch of him is something you feel you won't get used to, it only just borders on pain that makes it feel deliriously good. all you can offer him are broken gasps as you find purchase on his back with your nails, digging into the flesh. 

“fuck you feel good, so so good,” he croons, his voice is soft, breathy, as he presses a lingering kiss to your neck, the words barely a whisper between your bodies. “can't believe you’re mine, this perfect fuckin’ body, perfect fuckin' girl.”

maybe it's the wrecked rasp to his voice or the way the base of his dick rubs against you just right but the high builds fast, record time even. you squeeze around him frantically, mouthing sloppily at his shoulder. 

“yeah?” he pants, lifting his head so he can look at you again, you’ve got the sense that he likes to watch. you like him watching you. “gonna give me another one? gonna cum for me?”

“mhm,” you hum, teetering on a sob as he starts fucking you harder, a determined look in his eyes. your face falls sideways into the arm that joel had pressed beside your head “oh god, ohgod-”

“there you go. good girl,” he gushes warmly as you finish. he speeds up urgently, letting your climax be the catalyst of his own, chasing something just out of reach. you pull his face to yours with desperate hands, clinging to him, needing to kiss him. his lips brush over yours messily, not quite kissing you and it drives you crazy. he cums with one more strong thrust, groaning loudly into your open mouth as he pulls out and spills over your stomach.

he slumps on you, heavy, as he comes to, smearing stickiness all over but you find that you don’t care much. you cradle the back of his head with gentle hands, murmuring sweet things. you can feel his soft exhales on your collarbone, sighing as you weave your fingers between his strands. his heart races against your own, almost in sync. 

the two of you stay like that for a moment longer as everything slows down. nothing else matters apart from the silvery glow of moonlight filtering through his sheer curtains, spilling in revered ribbons across the floor, or the soft, grounding weight of his body on top of yours. his fingers trace the skin within reach, absentminded circles over your hip bones, lines beneath the curve of your breast. 

eventually, he rolls off you, getting the sense that some of your limbs might be going numb. in the midst of your post-orgasmic haze, you don’t realise that he leaves, returning with a damp towel to clean you up. he wipes you up swiftly, murmuring a hushed sorry when you squirm away and joins you under the covers.

he pulls you into his side, letting you tuck yourself under his arm. he presses a kiss to your temple. everything is so serene you want to cry. your body has other plans for you when the dregs of sleep start to claw at your worn-down edges. joel feels the slow flutter of your eyelashes on his chest and he begins to rub a gentle hand over your back, attempting to coax you further. sleep offers its solace, and joel’s steady presence pulls you under, silently promising to keep you warm. 

before you drift off though, you hear him–unbearably soft, whispering against your forehead.

“happy valentine's day, angel girl.”

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

[lattecodes]

k, lesson learned. im never telling my father anything ever again

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Illuminated.

Pairing: Yandere!Apollo x Reader (Greek Mythology).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Stalking, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, No Specified Gender For The Reader But They Are A Hunter Of Artemis, and Implied Kidnapping.

[Commissioned Piece. Donate To Palestinians In Gaza Here.]

“You, my love, are the poet’s demise.”

You stiffened at the sound of his melodic voice, shrinking into yourself before thinking better of taking on such a mouse-like posture and straightening. Still, you failed to stop yourself from crossing your arms over your chest, pulling your knees up and hoping beyond hope that the silvery water would be enough to hide your form from his unfaltering stare. You thought it’d be safer to bathe at night, apart from your sisters, when the softened moonlight protected you from his burning gaze, but you’d been naïve to think that any hour could be late enough to spare you haven. During the day, you lived under the burning gaze of his blazing chariot, busied yourself with shooting down hawks and ravens carrying gifts in their beaks, and at night, he had no burdens to keep him from closing the distance between you using less... ancillary methods.

“I’m afraid you must be mistaken, my lord.” You forced yourself to laugh, glancing over your shoulder. Sure enough, Apollo stood on the river’s opposing bank, his tanned skin nearly radiant in the darkness. If the sight of him hadn’t brought you such dread, you might’ve thought him beautiful. “As of late, my aim’s been so poor that I can hardly call myself a stag’s demise, let alone a man’s.”

You were quick to look away from him, but you could still hear his gentle hum, picture the way his lips would lilt upward as he shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s deathly true,” he went on, taking a step forward. The water rushed to part as he stepped where it had once been, and in turn, you scrambled for the robes you’d left on the shore, barely managing to pull the ashen cloth around yourself before Apollo came to stand in front of you, his light quickly doing away with what little protection the shadows offered. It was only after you were haphazardly dressed that you considered it might be considered an affront to hide any part of yourself from divinity, but the worry was quickly forgotten. It was only natural to want to create yet another barrier between you and him. Even insects knew to run from their betters. “For even the most talented bard would struggle beyond words to describe your beauty. They could be chained to their desk for an eternity, study under the Muses’ own tutelage, and still be unable to write a single line.”

He held out a hand to you, but you pretended not to realize he meant for you to take it. “You’re far too kind. If you have a message for Lady Artemis, there’s no need to bribe me with such—”

“My love,” he cut in, his smile unwavering. “If I had any desire to speak to my sister, your help would not be necessary.”

“A prophecy concerning our next hunt, then? If there’s something we mustn’t do, I ought to get the Huntmaster, she’ll—”

“My love.” You felt your throat tighten, your mouth go dry. “Although your voice is sweeter than honey and lovelier than birdsong, I’ll admit – I do find myself rather irritated when it’s used to employ such thinly veiled excuses. Any more, and I might think it better to encase your tongue in gold. At least, then, I might have something charming to admire while you lie to me.” His fingers grazed over your jaw as he moved to cup your cheek. It was not a gesture you had the luxury of ignoring. “You know why I have come here.”

Oh, how you wished you’d gone with your sisters.

“I… I can’t, my lord.” Unlike his, your voice was perfectly capable of trembling, of shaking, of plummeting into the sort of jarring, unsteady downward inflections that would’ve been the death of any proper storyteller. “My vows are to Lady Artemis, and—” It was your turn to smile, now, to lilt your head to the side apologetically. “—she’d never forgive me if I broke them. Especially with you.”

For the first time, his good humor seemed to ebb, giving way to not anger, but a melancholy sort of disappointment. “I suppose you’re right,” he relented, his golden glow dimming ever so slightly. Suddenly, it did not hurt quite so unbearably to look at him. “It’s a terrible thing. Me and my sister never did learn to share.”

Relief nearly managed to overshadow your revulsion. “I really am sorry. My desire is not to insult you, but—”

This time, when he interrupted you, it was not with a teasing remark, a nectar-dipped pet name, the vague implication of an affection he expected you to return. Rather, there was a sudden brightness in his golden eyes, a sharpened point to his smile, and then, his lips were pressed into yours. The kiss was shallow, but lingering, and when you tried to draw back, the hand on your cheek kept you firmly in place – his hold not crushing, but steadfast, resolute. His unoccupied arm wrapped around your waist, his hand finding its place at the small of your back as he sapped the last of the breath from your lungs. It was only when your palms pressed into his chest, your blunt nails burrowing into his bare skin in a silent plea for air, that he pulled back. Panting and flushed, you made a desperate effort to pull away, to escape back to your encampment, back to your sisters, back to your goddess, but he only cooed, his bowstring calloused fingertips fanning over your cheek.

“Such a terrible thing,” he muttered, and you considered, briefly, that you might’ve been the first mortal to realize just how wretched his voice truly was.

“How fortunate it is, then, that you’ve caught the attention of such a selfish admirer.”

[itneverendshere]

can we see rafe with a pouge reader and they are dating. they go out to go grocery shopping and rafe sees that she has a calculator out and watches as she picks up an item then types it in the calculator and then puts it back and chooses a cheaper option and he has to tell her that she doesn’t need to do that

birds of a feather - rafe cameron

word count: 2.9k belongs to this universe

The grocery store is quiet for a saturday afternoon, a rarity that makes the experience almost peaceful. Fluorescent lights buzz softly overhead as Rafe pushes a cart lazily with one hand, his other hand draped comfortably around his girl, you. 

He catches your eye and smiles, relishing the way you always lean into him, your bodies fitting together perfectly. Dating you was like finding the missing piece of himself—something he always knew he needed but never thought he’d find, let alone on the other side of the island.

Rafe grabs a box of cereal, tossing it into the cart without a second thought. “You good on milk, babe?” he asks, scanning the shelves for anything else that might catch his eye.

You nodded absentmindedly, focusing elsewhere. He notices that you are holding your phone in one hand and have a small calculator app open. His brow furrows as he watches you pick up a box of pasta, glance at the price, and then quickly type something into the calculator. After a moment of calculation, you place the box back on the shelf and reach for a cheaper brand.

Rafe's heart clenches. He hadn’t really thought about the differences between you in this way before. He knows you don't have the same privileges he does—didn’t grow up in a life of luxury as he had—but it’s moments like this that make him feel like a fucking entitled douche. 

He watches you do it again, this time with a jar of tomato sauce. You compare the prices, calculate the difference, and opt for the less expensive one.

“Hey,” Rafe stops you as you reach for another item. “What’re you doing?”

You blink, as if coming out of a trance, and look up at him with almost embarrassed smile. “Just trying to make sure I stay within the budget. Groceries can add up, y’know?”

He can’t stand the idea of you worrying about something as basic as food. Sure, he understands budgeting—everyone has to do it to some extent—but this? This was different. This was a mindset.

He gently takes the phone from your hand and slips it into his back pocket, keeping your hand in his. “You don’t need to do that. I’ve got you, okay?”

“Rafe, I—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, “You don’t have to worry about the prices. Just get what you want. We’re fine.”

You are grateful—God, you were always grateful—but there’s something else, something that has kept you up at night.

You hate relying on him. Not because you don’t trust him or appreciate everything he does for you, but because it reminds you of the whispers you’ve been hearing ever since you started dating. 

You can almost hear the voices now, like a nagging reminder in the back of your mind. “Gold digger,” they’d hiss. “Dirty Pogue. Look at her, clinging to him for the money. She’s got him wrapped around her finger, totally pussy-whipped.”

The rumors had messed with your head the first time you’d heard them, and even now, they still hurt, despite knowing they weren’t true. But the worst part is that a small, insecure part of you hates there might be some truth to what they said. You didn’t want Rafe to feel like he had to take care of you, or that you were using him for his money. You love him too much to ever want him to think that.

You glance at him, watching as he casually tosses another item into the cart without checking the price, without even a second thought. He’s so at ease, so unbothered by the things that you had worried about during your entire lifetime. You can’t help but feel guilty, like you’re dragging him down, making him take on responsibilities that should be yours alone. 

A you walk down another aisle, you keep your eyes on the floor, as you force the words out. “I know you’re just trying to help, and I really appreciate it, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.”

Rafe stops in his tracks, turning to face you fully. His brows knit together in concern like he genuinely can't grasp what you just said.

“I don’t feel like that,” he says,“I want to take care of you because I love you. It’s not about feeling like I have to—it’s because I want to.”

“But I hear what people say, Rafe—”

“They don’t know shit,” he scoffs, hand wrapping tightly around the cart, “They don’t know. Anyone who says otherwise can go fuck themselves.”

You sigh, your shoulders slumping as you lean into him, “It’s not that simple, baby. But I appreciate the thought.”

His other hand tilts your chin up so you’re looking directly at him, “It is that simple. I love you. You love me. That’s it.”

You know he means it, that he’s not just saying it to please you, but it doesn’t make the worries disappear. You nod, giving him a small smile, but he knows your brain is working double shifts, imagining all kinds of scenarios.

He sighs, knowing this conversation is far from over, and presses a gentle peck against your temple, all while murmuring, “Let’s finish up here and get out of this place.”

You agree, and the two of you continue down the aisle. Your hands are itching to take your phone out of his back pocket, and your brain scrambling to do simple math. You hate it. You automatically reach for the off-brand items, skip over the more expensive snacks, and choose the smaller sizes of products to stretch your budget. Rafe is abnormally quiet and you know it’s taking every will power in his body not to pick you up and lock you in his truck while he finishes shopping for you. 

He pauses in front of the snacks aisle, his eyes catching on your favorite candy. It’s something he knows you love but rarely allow yourself to buy. Without hesitation, he grabs a couple of bags and tosses them into the cart.

“Rafe, those are expensive—” you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a playful grin.

“They’re my favorite too.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the way he looks at you, with so much affection, makes the words die on your lips. Instead, you shake your head huffing as he wraps his arm around your shoulders dragging you along, “You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t be mean, baby.”

You squeeze his waist in retaliation. 

When you finally reach the checkout line, he watches as you nervously glance at the total on the screen. It’s a small thing, for him, but it’s enough to make him realize just how much it affects you. Without saying a word, he hands over his card to the cashier, ignoring the way you try to protest.

“Rafe, you don’t have to—” you start, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“I know,” he says firmly, “But I want to.”

You bite your lip, nodding reluctantly as he pays for the groceries. It’s a small gesture, but it means the world to him. He wants to take care of you, to make sure you never have to worry about something as basic as food ever again. He wants to give you the life you deserve, the one you never experienced on The Cut.

He opens the trunk of his car, starting to load the groceries while you stand there, too quiet. He hates not hearing the sound of your voice. 

“Hey,” he closes the trunk and turning to face you. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

He steps closer, his hand finding a home in your neck, thumb caressing your pulsing point, “Forget about them okay?”

You sigh, forehead touching his chin, “I’m trying. I just don’t want to be a burden to you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.”

“You’re not a burden,” he says firmly, fingers pulling your head up, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that, no matter how often it happens, still takes your breath away. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Now get that fine ass inside the car.”

You can’t help but laugh at the way he says it, so casually and with so much conviction that it leaves no room for you to second guess his thoughts. His confidence, his overwhelming trust in everything that he says, is one of the things you love most about him. He’s always been like that—bold, sure of himself, and unafraid to go after what he wants. And right now, what he wants is you. 

“Why?” You tease, rolling your eyes but smiling as you let him guide you toward the car “You gonna make me if I don’t?”

You wish you could photograph the grin on his face, the way his beautiful eyes seem to drink you in like he’ll die if he doesn’t look at you all the time. 

“Oh, you know I will,” he says as he steps closer, his hand slipping down to give your ass a firm but playful slap. The sound echoes through the quiet parking lot, and you gasp, more from surprise than anything else.

“Rafe!” you scold, though your laughter makes it known there’s no real annoyance. The smirk on his face only grows, clearly pleased with himself.

“Consider that a warning,” he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’d hate to have to follow through.”

You try to hold back a grin, biting your lip as you tilt your head to look up at him. 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” His tone is a challenge.

For a moment, you consider pushing more just to see what he’d do, but the way he’s looking at you—like he’s ready to scoop you up and take you back to his bed right then and there—makes you rethink it. Instead, you play along, giving him a coy smile as you turn and head for the door.

“That’s what I thought,” he calls after you, his deep voice filled with a smug satisfaction that makes you roll your eyes again. Before you can reach for the door handle, he gently pulls it open for you. You slide into the passenger seat, and before you touch the seatbelt, Rafe is leaning in, his hands brushing over yours as he clicks the belt into place.

“Safe and sound,” he murmurs, as he pulls back slightly. It’s something so simple, yet so endearing he has insisted on doing ever since the two of you started dating.

You smile up at him, practically oozing in your love for him as your hand reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“Thank you."

His gaze softens as he leans down to press a tender kiss to your lips, “Anything for you,” he whispers, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek before he finally steps back and closes the door.

As he rounds the front of the car to get in on his side, you can’t help but watch him. It still blows your mind that this is real. The way he looks at you, the way he takes care of you without making you feel small—it’s everything you never knew you needed. You’re still not used to someone loving you like this, so openly. You never imagined Rafe Cameron would be that someone. 

He starts the engine, the low hum filling the silence between you. The radio automatically tunes to a soft indie station, one of your favorites, and Rafe reaches over to lace his fingers with yours. 

“I’m cooking tonight.”

You turn to him, even though you know his attention is on the road, “Really?”

Rafe’s thumb absentmindedly rubs circles on the back of your hand, “Hmmm.”

“So you can burn down the kitchen again?”

“Baby, that was one time.”

You snort, the image of Rafe with a fire extinguisher still fresh in your memory, “What’s on the menu?”

He grins, “I was thinking we could make that pasta you like, with the garlic bread.”

Your heart swells a little at the thoughtfulness behind his choice. He remembers all the little things—your favorite foods, the way you like your coffee, the songs that make you smile.

“Are you trying to get laid?”

He laughs, loud and boisterous as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, “So you don’t want desert?”

You hit his shoulder gently, all too aware you’re still in a moving vehicle, “Don’t be nasty.”

His touch moves to your thighs, squeezing gently, "Can't help it when I'm around you."

The smile tugging at your lips is impossible to hide. There's something so easy about being with Rafe, despite everything. Despite the whispers, the looks, the insecurities that sometimes creep in—he has a way of making you feel like none of it matters. 

The city lights begin to twinkle on the horizon, the sun dipping low in the sky. It's peaceful, the kind of quiet that lets you sink into yourself. The idea of a cozy night in, just the two of you cooking dinner together, fills you with a warmth that has nothing to do with the summer heat outside.

Rafe glances over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Penny for your thoughts?"

You shake your head, the smile widening on your face. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."

He quirks an eyebrow, "I think I'm the lucky one."

"Yeah, but you're also really annoying," you tease, earning a chuckle from him.

"Annoying but irresistible," he counters smoothly, pulling into the driveway of his house 

He parks the car and quickly rounds the front to open your door, always the gentleman. As you step out, you look up at him, your heart swelling with a love so deep it almost overwhelms you. It's not just the grand gestures or the way he spoils you—it's the little things, the way he makes you feel cherished, the way he sees you for who you are and loves you anyway.

"Ready for our gourmet meal?" he asks as he takes your hand, leading you towards the front door.

You laugh, leaning into him as you walk. "If by gourmet you mean slightly burnt, then yes."

He chuckles, his arm slipping around your waist as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "With you, it's always perfect."

Before you can walk through the front door, he stops all too suddenly, dragging you against him. You’re confused for a second, looking up to see him ogle you.

“What?” You stutter out, “Something’s wrong?”

Rafe shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his pink lips as he looks down at you with that same adoring expression that never fails to make your heart  stop. "No, nothing’s wrong.”

You blink up at him, still confused, “Rafe...”

 “I know you worry sometimes. About what people say, about what they think. But I don’t give a fuck about any of that. I only care about you, about us.” His hand moves to cup your face, his thumb moving gently along your cheekbone. “I love you, y’know that? Right? Aways.”

Your breath hitches at the sudden emotion in his voice. It’s random moments like this that remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place—beneath the confident, cocky exterior, Rafe Cameron has a heart that beats fiercely for the people he cares about, especially for you. 

“I love you,” you whisper, feeling the words settle between you like a vow.

“I love you more,” he replies, his voice full of conviction. Then, with a small grin, he adds, “And I’m gonna marry you someday. We’re gonna have our own place, our own life. Just you and me.”

It’s not the first time you’ve talked about the future, but hearing him say it so plainly, so confidently, sends a warmth spreading through your whole body.

“Is that a proposal, Cameron?” you tease, though your voice wavers just a little, eyes burning as you pathetically attempt not to cry.

“Not yet,” he smirks, leaning down to press a peck to the corner of your lips, “But when I do, you’ll know. It’s gonna be perfect. Just like you.”

You pull back slightly, resting your forehead against his as you take a deep breath, trying to calm the stupid fluttering in your chest. “You mean it?”

“More than anything,” he replies without hesitation. “I want to build a life with you, baby. The kind of life where you never have to worry about anything, where you can just be happy.”

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, but they’re the good kind, the kind that comes from being overwhelmed with love. So different from the ones you’d experienced as a kid, growing up. You nod, not sure how to explain how you’re feeling inside, so instead, you pull him down for another kiss, letting your lips show what your voice can’t.

You kiss each other like you have all the time in the world, which you have, savoring the way your lips fit perfectly against his. There’s no rush, no urgency—just you two. 

When you pull apart, both of you slightly breathless, Rafe gives you a lopsided grin, his lips just barely grazing yours as he speaks, “So, how about we start with dinner?”

[fastandcarlos]

Pregnant Pranks : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: lewis loves to mess with you, but messing with a pregnant lady unleashes a whole new world of fury

Your eyes widened in horror as you walked into the kitchen, opening up the cupboard you scanned the shelf, unable to find the jar of gherkins that you had placed that earlier in the day after your shop. 

“Lewis!” You shouted through the house, watching him walk through with a mischievous smile etched upon his face. “Where are they?” You asked, knowing this had his name all over it. 

It had been a bit of a thrill for Lewis to keep you on your toes during your pregnancy, he loved winding you up and testing how far he could push you with all your hormones. Most days you ended up being on the end of some sort of prank whilst Lewis tried his best to keep you positive. 

If you asked Lewis, the worst thing about your pregnancy was your cravings. The smells that travelled through your house were disgusting to say the least, with Lewis often walking around having to pinch his nose. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you warned, placing your hand over the top of your bump. “I know you don’t like them, but getting rid of them isn’t the way to go about this.” 

Lewis’ head nodded as you noticed him looking above your head and into the cupboard. He could feel you staring across at him, tapping your foot on the floor as you impatiently waited for some sort of answer from him.  

Whilst you stood in annoyance, Lewis couldn’t help but smile, watching as you glanced completely unaware of just how close what you wanted was actually to you. 

“What are you looking for?” Lewis questioned, closing the distance between the two of you, placing his hands on your shoulders. 

“You know what I’m looking for,” you frowned, hitting your hand against his chest. “Do you get some sort of sick kick out of tormenting pregnant people?” 

The more Lewis smiled down at you, the more irritated you became. You didn’t ask for much, all you wanted was for him to tolerate the one thing that you needed to satisfy your cravings. 

“One day I’m going to get you back for all of this, you better sleep with one eye open,” you challenged, only to be greeted by even more laughter from Lewis. 

He leant forwards and pressed a kiss to your stomach, moving his hands to rest against your bump. “The baby doesn’t feel as if they want any of that stinky food right now.” 

“I’m telling you they want it,” you bluntly responded, patience running thin. “So, before I go and smash one of your cars up, can you tell me where they are please?” 

“Do you really think I believe you’d do such a thing?” 

You tried your best to keep your gaze looking serious, but Lewis knew you so well knowing that you would never even dream of doing such a thing, especially when you loved his car so much too. 

“Stop smiling, this isn’t funny,” you groaned, turning around to look again. 

“It is a tad,” Lewis smiled as you went up onto your tiptoes, trying to get a better look in the cupboard. 

You followed Lewis’ eyes once more, catching the shine of the gherkin jar hanging off the very top shelf. Your eyes went wide as you stretched up as tall as you possibly could, trying your best to swat the jar off of the shelf. Each time you failed, groaning when you placed your feet back down again. 

“You’ve had your laugh; now can you get them please?” You politely asked Lewis, “I cannot even begin to tell you how badly I’m craving these. I’ll even go and eat them in the garden Lewis.” 

“Why do you even crave them? They’re disgusting,” he frowned, shaking his head across at you but still keeping stuck to his spot, watching you closely. 

As he smiled with delight you decided to change your tactics, knowing you could play his game too. You grabbed one of the dining chairs and lined it up with the front of the cupboard, making sure that it aligned perfectly with the small sighting of the jar you had. 

“I guess I’ll just get it myself then,” you told yourself, placing one hand on the chair and one on the counter. 

Lewis continued to watch you without much of a care, but as you went to lift your foot up and place it on the chair to push yourself up, Lewis grabbed a hold of your hips and placed you on the other side of the room. 

“I’ve got it,” he quickly told you, reaching up with ease and taking the jar from the shelf, handing it across to you. “Were you really going to stand on a chair to get that down?” 

Your shoulders shrugged back at him, “I wasn’t messing when I told you how bad I was craving them. I’d go to some pretty extreme lengths when it comes to pregnancy cravings love.” 

“You can’t be doing things like that to me babe.” 

You unscrewed the lid and grabbed a fork from the cutlery drawer, quickly beginning to tuck in. Lewis’ face squirmed as he watched you start eating, unable to stop himself from judging you. Your face lit up at the delicious taste, sniggering at the look of disgust that Lewis wore instead. 

“I guess we can both play that game,” Lewis smiled as he grabbed a chair and placed it next to you for you to sit down. “Maybe it’s about time that I let you relax a little bit more whilst your pregnant.” 

“Did I scare you then?” 

“Of course,” he laughed, as if it were obvious. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you climbed up onto that chair and something happened, all because I wanted to try and play a stupid prank on you.” 

You were only half listening as you continued to munch on the gherkins, extending the jar to Lewis, offering one, only for his head to shake, swatting you away. 

“You’ve had some pretty good pranks over the past few months, I’ll give you that one,” you told him, “but if there’s one kind of person that you definitely don’t mess with, it’s a pregnant lady.” 

“I’ve learnt that the hard way,” Lewis smiled, taking a seat opposite you. “I don’t think my heart has quite calmed down yet from the fear of thinking that you’d go up there.” 

You couldn’t help but smile knowing that you’d given Lewis a little taste of his own medicine, for all the games he tried to play with you, there was only one number one mastermind in your relationship, and that was you. 

He had plenty in the bank after spending years winding his family up, but soon he would have a new target for all his pranks, looking forward to joking with your baby. He couldn’t wait to mess with them, embarrass them and be as annoying as possible, just like how he was with you. 

“I thought you said you were going to eat those in the garden anyway,” Lewis smiled, feeling your eyes narrow in on him, shooting a glare. 

“If anyone should be out in the garden, it’s you,” you challenged, “I’m going nowhere now that I’ve finally got my hands on these.” 

“You’re going to make me suffer that smell, aren’t you?” 

“Absolutely, and I’m going to love doing it too.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[astonmartinii]

imgonnagetyouback [guilty as sin part four] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader

PR jail did a lot of damage, but unlike SOMEONE else, charles is ready for the apology tour

MASTERLIST | GUILTY AS SIN MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

note: the timeline is absolutely all over the place in this and for needs must pretend that the spanish and austrian races are swapped on the calendar!

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 1,045,389 others

yourusername: i think your house is haunted, why are they always mad?

view all comments

user239: i have had it with little miss poet over here TELL ME IF MY PARENTS ARE DIVORCED OR NOT

user240: i hate that as this generation, them following each other on instagram is a key feature to whether they're still together or not

user241: my grandparents didn't have to go through this 😭

maxverstappen1: spill it sis

user242: WHAT DO YOU KNOW MAX

maxverstappen1: ummm nothing, and if i did i only take cash bribes. this is baby max relating hard to the caption

user242: oh :(

yourusername: oh maxy .... at least we now have good ways to express our emotions!

user243: ma'am he tore lando's wheel off because he can't handle wheel to wheel racing

liked by landonorris

yourusername: it's called hard racing, maybe mclaren should watch some of senna's old races instead of doing their 100th tribute livery xx

landonorris: you know he said you would do this exact thing, you can't handle anyone linked to your brother doing well

yourusername: oh i was perfectly prepared for you to win every race after miami since it was clear that the mclaren is the fastest car on the grid EVEN THOUGH you've publicly sided with them when anyone with a moral backbone (and a hint of PR awareness) would've run for the hills

landonorris: i'd really worry about the fact that the one piece of relevance you had left is no where to be seen, you're not worth defending for him

yourusername: it's insane the way you all have the same pompous attitude about this (i know that's a big word, but maybe you guys could get a couple of quid together to buy a dictionary)

maxverstappen1: also don't try and pretend 1. that you're completely in the right about everything that happened in austria 2. that you weren't scrounging around me (when we were friends i guess) trying to get details on y/n and charles

user244: okay this is wild

user245: i really thought lando would see the light on this

user246: or he realised that he can't race wheel to wheel unless he has the power of carlando friendship so he's burning bridges

oscarpiastri: i miss leo

yourusername: we literally are down the street bozo

oscarpiastri: i am ON MY WAY

user247: she's in monaco ???

user248: has to be, oscar only has a rental place he stays in london for mclaren and y/n has only ever lived in madrid or monaco

user249: there is still hope everyone

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 2,309,677 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: was i out of line? did i say something way too honest?

there are a couple things i need to get off of my chest.

first, a massive apology to my girlfriend. y/n is the love of my life and will be my wife sooner or later and i hate that as a 26-year-old grown man i haven't had the backbone to stand up to ferrari when it comes to her. she's incredibly strong and i hate that she's had to go through this without my public support. i can't take it back now, but if i could i never would've let them take my phone and take control of my social media. they have now been dealt with and no one will stop me declaring my love and support for her.

second, if i hadn't already ran out of patience before, the legal trouble that family have put their own blood through threw me over the edge. they will never, ever deserve that girl and if i have anything to do with it they will never talk to her ever again. i may have been silent online but money talks and we will have vindication soon.

third, a big thank you to max, oscar and ollie for their continued support of y/n. it means so much that the public still saw how loved she is when i couldn't.

four, i am awake and i am angry, these people will learn who they are fucking with. see you soon lecfosi, it'll all be worth it in the end.

view all comments

user254: WAR IS OVER

user255: my heart dropped when i got the post notification but this is the best news possible

user256: am i going to excuse a 26-year-old man for being a pussy? no. but i am going to celebrate him seeing the light and y/n having him back in her corner

yourusername: he was never out of my corner. true there was no public support, but he was there. i would rather have his support behind closed doors where it matters than plastered all over social media

maxverstappen1: you wouldn't believe the lengths these two were going, i became a messenger pigeon when they physically took his phone and the letters were so grossly cute

yourusername: that's literally mail tampering

maxverstappen1: and i'm a human not a pigeon, we can't all get what we want

charles_leclerc: i did i got y/n 😁😁😁

maxverstappen1: ugh welcome back gross instagram comments

user257: so that's what max meant when someone referenced letters that's so cuteeeee

user258: the shout out to max and the extended leclerc family i know that's right

oscarpiastri: anything for my grid mum

olliebearman: actually charles can you get your phone taken away again cause the heist was VERY fun

yourusername: heist???????

charles_leclerc: don't answer that ollie

yourusername: answer it ollie, did you put yourself in harms way ???

charles_leclerc: it was hardly high-stakes

olliebearman: we only stole a phone from silvia's office

yourusername: ollie that's kind of slay but i'm going to need you to delete all of these incriminating comments i don't want you to get in trouble for charles

user259: i know this is just eating up carlos inside seeing how loved she is in his sport

user260: it really does seem that lando is the only one in his corner

sebastianvettel: i am proud of you charles, i know how much ferrari means to you, but never let them take you from those who matter

charles_leclerc: thank you seb, i couldn't have done it without you

yourusername: we love you seb

sebastianvettel: my impromptu not at all prompted trip to maranello definitely wasn't to give you a well-earned slap up the side of the head

user261: no carlos bitching it up in the comments... i've been dreaming of this

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,734,037 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername

maxverstappen1: back to being a third-wheel, balance is restored - the united front of hating is BACK BABY

view all comments

user263: i prayed for times like this

user264: i know they didn't break up but i'm so glad y/n and charles are back together they're too pretty not to be in our faces 24/7

yourusername: just paying you back for you and kelly let me crash on the sofa

maxverstappen1: that really wasn't the burden you thought it was, jimmy and sassy loved their interactive cat bed

yourusername: i miss them (don't tell leo)

charles_leclerc: HOW DARE YOU MUM :((((((((

yourusername: okay baby we're not going to do that ...

charles_leclerc: but :( his feelings are hurt

yourusername: i know lewis is cool and will be your new teammate, but i draw the line at pretending to be leo in the instagram comment section

roscoelovescoco: watch urs backs

yourusername: AHAHAHHAHAHA

maxverstappen1: this man is about to turn 40

lewishamilton: you people ever heard of having some whimsy in your life

yourusername: i got sued by my own family 👍

lewishamilton: um yeah, sorry that happened to you

user265: y/n be ticking up the amount of drivers she's gone toe to toe with in instagram comments

charles_leclerc: you can finally eat my ice cream without trying to hide it

maxverstappen1: i think it's against my partnership contracts to publicly say that i like that ice cream

yourusername: don't worry baby we both ate three tubs and cried watching chick flicks while you were locked away in maranello

charles_leclerc: there's a reason a special edition strawberry flavour made its way to you

yourusername: i love you :(

carlossainz55: you might be "united" but you haven't won yet

charles_leclerc: do you ever shut the fuck up?

carlossainz55: oh someone finally found their voice

charles_leclerc: yeah i did which means you don't get to control the narrative anymore and i can call you a bitch

maxverstappen1: also if there was anyway we would lose, at least we are united, i can count how many friends you have left in this sport on one hand and two of them are your dad and your cousin

charles_leclerc: and watch out, clearly you guys aren't afraid to betray family, who knows it could be you next?

user266: i think charles is still being restrained but can we please at least get one day when he can fully go off his rocker

user267: i think we deserve it after all of it

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,764,094 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: she's not only poet barbie but also lawyer barbie - THAT POETRY IS MINE BITCH, SUCK MY DICK AND RUN ME MY MONEY

view all comments

user268: i don't think i've ever been more happy for a stranger before in my life

user269: she deserves this so much i'm actually like over the moon

charles_leclerc: i'm so happy for you baby, i knew it would all be worth it in the end

yourusername: they can't stop my romantic ramblings now

charles_leclerc: i don't know if i want them to hear them all

yourusername: oh no some are for our ears only ;)

oscarpiastri: unfortunately it's NOT all just for your ears

olliebearman: for a millionaire i thought you'd at least buy a house with thick walls

maxverstappen1: you'll get used to it after a while

yourusername: THERE WAS CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION ARE YOU GUYS NOT HAPPY FOR ME ???

oscarpiastri: clearly not THAT happy

charles_leclerc: good. that would be entirely inappropriate

user270: finally some normal fucking couple stuff for y/n and charles

user271: their dynamic is so cute going from poetry to FUCKING

user272: i would be the exact same if i looked like either of them

fernandoalo_oficial: spoken like a real poet, i'm happy for you niña

yourusername: thank you pops !! couldn't have done it without you <3

fernandoalo_oficial: dealing with charles having close to a nervous breakdown every weekend was a lot, but i'm glad you have each other

charles_leclerc: thank you nando :)))) (i didn't have a nervous breakdown)

fernandoalo_oficial: you stress ate seven punnets of grapes

charles_leclerc: FERRARI I SWEAR I DIDN'T

charles_leclerc: wait i'm still annoyed at you ignore that

user273: i think charles is the first case of stockholm syndrome to a sports team

yourusername: @carlossainz55 come on i wanna tussle stop being a pussy

carlossainz55: enjoy your victory lap while you can, it won't last for long

yourusername: suck my actual dick, you put me through this i won't let you run away from it

yourusername: massive tip because i'm feeling generous, maybe actually come to court because there's a lot that you could know ...

carlossainz55: why would i waste my time on you?

yourusername: all will reveal itself

user274: oh it's finally on the other foot .... i'm enjoying this

user275: i think y/n and charles are too

f1tea

liked by user276, user277 and 21,056 others

tagged: carlossainz55

f1tea: sources close to us say that there is serious worry in the sainz camp after the courts decided they were unlawful in their actions against y/n sainz. the financial standings of the sainz family were already somewhat dyer before they took the youngest sainz' income but it's said to be even worse now they've had to pay damages.

in terms of f1, several of the teams that were interested in sainz were put off by the way he and his family were treating his sister but have fully backed out now the financial struggles of the sainzs has become clear.

this comes after a number of sponsors have ended their partnerships with the spaniard. where do you think he'll end up?

view all comments

user278: at the job centre hopefully

user279: i think this is what the kids call poetic justice

user280: the way charles just picked up a new sponsor... we love to see it!

user281: all the sponsors flocking to charles is so fucking real

user282: life comes at you so fucking fast

user283: in the words of his hero: KARMA!

user284: especially since fernando congratulated y/n on her win in court 😭

user285: bro can't even afford the tractor seat at williams i am HOWLING

user286: or at sauber, boy oh boy this is some great great content for a hater like me

user287: or HAAS and they fucking took nikita mazepin

user288: the next race can't come fast enough i wanna see how this guy spins it in the media

user289: for once in his life i can't see him spinning this is any way that makes him look good

user290: god i hope y/n is in the paddock as well

user291: oh gosh i need her diana revenge dress moment

user292: i don't care if that's your brother i need you to STUNT ON HIM

user293: other than y/n and charles, i know oscar is cheering at this news

user294: bro saw his grid parents get back together and his biggest opp be declared broke and jobless

user295: i really don't understand how y/n slutting round the paddock has been praised so much when her hopping from driver to driver has cost her brother his dream

user296: cope.

user297: also y/n has only ever been with charles DESPITE carlos and her father trying to pimp her out for favours

usr298: now we know this ^^ i don't understand why carlos was so annoyed that she was finally doing what they always wanted

user299: it was because it didn't serve him.

user300: he was probably happy y/n was with charles until he realised it was for you know an ACTUAL relationship rather than psychological teammate warfare

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, marcmarquez93 and 104,889 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

carlossainz55: it was never 'true love' if all you ever wanted was to bag a trophy husband and never work again

view all commments

user302: posting a picture of charles' crash and tagging him is nasty business

user303: would've been iconic if i wasn't him

user304: also that caption just really isn't the read he thought it was

user305: i grew up watching posh spice and cheryl cole in the stands at england games like obvs people want to be with athletes

user306: also this guy pretending he doesn't have a revolving door of models who are just there to be wags

yourusername: yes? and.

yourusername: at least wag isn't my only job. you better hope that rebecca stays booked honey

carlossainz55: don't bring rebecca into this she has nothing to do with any of this

yourusername: awwww did you already cheat? that does track...

yourusername: also you've been slandering my boyfriend all over the internet and ON THIS POST so shut the fuck up i'll bring up who i want to bring up

carlossainz55: get the fighting words out, you might need them when charles questions why you just happened to fall into his lap

yourusername: you've stolen every last penny from me, sued me and tried to turn everyone i care about against me - and guess what? YOU'RE STILL STUPID

carlossainz55: i'm not stupid you're a gold digging slut and you WILL BE FOUND OUT

yourusername: i actually think i could play pinball with the one remaining brain cell in your head

user307: i know this is serious drama but YES SASSY Y/N IS UNLEASHED FROM HER LAWYER'S GRASPS

user308: someone TAP CHARLES IN

user309: please you're out of the ferrari jail NOW IS THE TIME

charles_leclerc: you think i'm going to be offended that the most beautiful girl in the world has always wanted to be with me?

yourusername: what if i told you i'm a mastermind?

charles_leclerc: i would say i'm impressed and FLATTERED

yourusername: and now you're mine :P

charles_leclerc: and i'm glad

charles_leclerc: and i am of the serious belief that even if you didn't seek me out, we would've found each other regardless

yourusername: you made me believe in soulmates

maxverstappen1: @carlossainz55 this post really didn't do what you thought it would lOL

oscarpiastri: bro is falling at every hurdle

carlossainz55: yeah, yeah fuck you two. i'll see you on the track

maxverstappen1: if you can get close enough :P

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,783,088 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & maxverstappen1

yourusername: siri play hoes mad

view all comments

user310: this girl is a bestselling poet and this is how she's captioning her instagram posts

user311: babe we're like months into a family war that has had whole ass court cases we don't need eloquent captions

oscarpiastri: where's that one tiktok audio

yourusername: that audio has gone platinum in our house, i think i've saved every edit with it and charles

charles_leclerc: they do slap every time

maxverstappen1: HOES MAD HOES MAD HOES MAD

yourusername: someone is enjoying this

maxverstappen1: i've been praying on these people's downfall since i was 17 i've got a fancy bottle of wine i've been waiting to open

yourusername: we've really been through the wars with these people

charles_leclerc: and ME

maxverstappen1: well here's to them being BROKE AS FUCK LOL

yourusername: cheers!

charles_leclerc: 🥂

user312: this has been some kind of crazy turn around

user313: considering we all thought they had broken up not long ago we have come SO far

charles_leclerc: i'd have the whole world mad at me if it kept you by my side

yourusername: i love you so much

user314: tbf i'd say a good 80% of people were mad at you when you were being ferrari's bitch

charles_leclerc: HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY I'M SORRY

sebastianvettel: if it's any consolation, he was very torn up about it

yourusername: i know what happened charles, don't worry. i know you're dedicated to your craft and have people you want to win for

charles_leclerc: but i'm also dedicated to you

yourusername: we're in it together, forever now

yourusername: although this does mean ferrari have to deal with me now

user314: ugh they're so precious

carlossainz55: i'll have the last laugh don't you worry. you may have won the battle but you have not won the war.

user315: does this guy ever Shut the FUCK UP

user316: i'm bored. can't you just let them be happy

carlossainz55: no.

fin.

note: I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG but here she is, can't tell whether i love it or hate it - probably because i've been looking at it so long xx i guess p5 will be out hopefully some time soon and i hope my tagging works

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi! I would love to request something for Aemond x fem or gn reader. I was thinking reader saying prompt. 15 from your general list “I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are. Although you look pretty great too."

Maybe one day he wakes up with bad pain in the eye and he doesn’t feel like calling the maester so they help him, they remove his eyepatch and apply his ointment for him. And he feels extremely insecure because it’s the first they saw him without the eyepatch but they reassure him. I need that man to cry in my arms as I tell him he’s beautiful (I know it may sound ooc but he’s my babygirl)

15. ''I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are. Although you look pretty great too.''

The gif from the trailer fits perfectly this request

Warnings: mention of past injuries (eye)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You returned to your chambers after spending the morning embroidering with Helaena to find Aemond still in bed. A frown drew between your eyebrows. At this hour, he was either training with Ser Criston or attending the small council meeting.

‘’Aemond?’’ Your soft voice cut through the silence of the room, waking your husband’s attention.

He shifted under the covers, his single eye fluttering open. ‘’Could you tell Cole I will not be training with him today?’’

You walked over to the bed, taking a closer look at him. ‘’Are you well?’’ You touched his forehead with the back of your hand, checking for a fever.

‘’It’s just…my eye. It gets irritated sometimes.’’ Aemond avoided your gaze, not wanting to see the familiar look of pity that he had grown all too used to seeing in the eyes of others. ‘’Would you want me to fetch the maester? He should have something to sooth your pain,’’ you offered, concern etched on your face.

‘’No need for the maester.’’ He gently caught your hand in his own, stopping you from rising. ‘’I already have a salve Maester Orwyle gave to me. It’s on the table, over there.’’

Aemond let go of your hand, allowing you to stand and retrieve the salve for his eye. You returned to the bed. ‘’I’ll do it for you.’’

You had offered your help out of pure kindness, but Aemond did not want it.

‘’No! I do not wish that.’’ His voice was firm, causing your hands to crisp around the jar. ‘’You won’t like what you see under,’’ he added with a gentler tone.

He knew what lay beneath the eyepatch — the grotesque, scarred skin that he had lived with for years now. It was a sight he preferred to keep hidden from everyone, even you. Especially you. Since you’ve known each other, you’ve only seen his good looks, and Aemond wanted to keep it that way.

Aemond let out a soft hiss of pain as he sat up, his body tense with discomfort. It had not been this bad in a long time.

Seeing him in pain made your heart ache, but you tried to hide it.

You sat down close to him and guided him back against the pillows. He clenched his jaw, trying to bear the pain.

‘’Let me,’’ you insisted, only wanting to help him, to relieve his pain.

His good eye was fixed on yours with a mixture of resignation and reluctance. He knew there was no arguing with you when you were like this.

With a resigned sigh, he slowly removed the eyepatch, revealing the scarred skin beneath. The sight was a stark contrast to his usual handsome features, with its puckered and uneven texture. He averted his gaze, unable to look at you directly.

Aemond waited for your response, his body tense, and braced for your reaction. He expected disgust, pity, perhaps even revulsion. After all, his scarred eye had left other people speechless in the past. He glanced up at you under his lashes, searching your face for any hint of how you were feeling.

You remained silent as you applied the salve on the reddish-pink skin with the more careful and gentle touch. Causing him more pain was the last thing you wanted.

Aemond couldn't help but watch you intently, studying the focused expression on your face. Your eyes were fixed on his scar, but there was no repugnance in your gaze, just a mixture of concern and tenderness.

Once you were finished, you put the lid back on the jar and cupped your husband’s face with one hand. ‘’Aemond,’’ you began, looking at him with the most loving eyes. ‘’I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are.’’ You glanced down at his naked chest, seeing the softly defined muscles he acquired from training, and back to his face. ‘’Although you look pretty great too.’’

Aemond's heart squeezed at your words and the tenderness in your gaze. He had expected a lot of things from you, but not this. Not such unconditional acceptance and love.

"You're the only person who's ever looked at me like this," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.

‘’Come here.’’ You shifted back on the bed and guided him to your lap.

Aemond didn’t protest, curling up to you, seeking comfort and closeness. You began to stroke his hair gently, running your fingers through the soft silver strands. The sensation was soothing and intimate, making him feel safe and entirely loved for the first time.

—

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