#is she going to an afterparty? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loaksky · 26 days ago

Text

— come a little closer

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

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

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

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

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

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

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

The step creaks under pure muscle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“________,” you offer.

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

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

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

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

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

Vi’s floored.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

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

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

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

“So?”

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

Her teammate snorts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

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

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

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

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

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

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

“I am.”

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

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

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

Vi could melt.

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

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

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

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

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

“You’re fucking joking!”

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

“Maddie,” you whisper.

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

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

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

You look around in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

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

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

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

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

“Am I going too fast?”

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

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

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

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

You decide to fold your cards first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

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

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

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

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

“Violet.”

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

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

“V—”

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

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

Vi’s smile is crooked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

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

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

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

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

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

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

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

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

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

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

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

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

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

“Sure, anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hungry?” you ask.

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

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

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

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

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

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

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

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

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

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

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

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

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

“God, marry me now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

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

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

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

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

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

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

Cute. So fucking cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Vi,” you whimper.

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

She resists a smile.

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

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

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

Test the waters, cop a feel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

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

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

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

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

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

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

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

5—4.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

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

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

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

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

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

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

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

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

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

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

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

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

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

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

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

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

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

“Leave it.”

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

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

She winks.

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

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

You should come, I can pick you up.

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

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

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

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

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

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

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

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” she hums.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh.”

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

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

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

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

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

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

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

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

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

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

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

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

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

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

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

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

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

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

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

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

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

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

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

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

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

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

“Can I?” she husks.

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

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

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

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

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

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

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

You’re staring, hard.

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

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

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

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

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

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

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

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

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

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

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

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

Your heartbeat skips.

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

Vi’s grinning wide.

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

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

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

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

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

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

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

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

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you’re running.

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

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

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

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

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

I’ll see you next week.

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

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

She sighs. Hard.

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

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

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

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

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

Then you add, We can smoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like?”

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

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

“Uh-huh?”

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

“But?”

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

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

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

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

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

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

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

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

Your breath catches.

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

“Why?”

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

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

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

“You really believe that?”

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

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

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

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

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

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

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

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

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

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

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

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

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

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

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

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

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xxxx: i really miss you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

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

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You humph.

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

“And that’s my problem because...?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Violet’s in love with you.”

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

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

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

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

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

“There’s a video.”

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

She reaches a palm out.

Show me.

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

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

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7—5.

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

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

Her bracelet.

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

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” you squeak.

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

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

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

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

You swallow.

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t,” you admit.

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

“We could start off with the obvious.”

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

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

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

“Vi.”

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

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

“Pl—ease.”

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

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

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

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

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

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

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

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

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

“Oh–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Vi.”

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

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nnngh, fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

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

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

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

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

“Thought you left,” you croak.

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

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

You whine.

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

Violet groans.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

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

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

#arcane #arcane fanfic #vi x reader #vi arcane #vi fanfic #vi smut #vi league of legends #wlw #sapphic #arcane x reader

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thegigibeegees · 1 year ago

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MAJOR The Afterparty season 2 finale SPOILERS

BUT I just had to have this perfect 1:45 of cinema. the huge fake cherry blossoms, the makeup, whatever ken jeong is doing with his eyebrow, john cho's refusal to give anything less than his all, vivian wu's clear deep knowledge on how to perfectly deliver genre and period appropriate dialogue (sillAYy), all brought together by the perfect camera work. like ok director of this episode tamra davis, i see you and your 80s soaps.

#the afterparty #the afterparty spoilers #the afterparty s2 #john cho #ken jeong #vivian wu #if this season had come out six months earlier i would have written about it for my asian am media final.#i am going to email my former prof about it tho. she will want to know.#also some spoilers talk just for the tags but this is the perfect genre to end this season on after all the affairs and family in-fighting #that we've seen i can feel miller and lord winking at us from behind the screen. they're already so self-referential.#this season was denser than the first but also tighter in a writing sense. lots of juicy little things that they definitely want an audienc #to be looking at and thinking about. i should make a separate post about this i have thoughts.#gigi post

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vancilart · 2 years ago

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beheld

#evarybody loves her #oc stuff #stuff in space #wedding dress? idk #shes not very traditional when it comes to valoidian stuff and not at all when talking about evarian things shes never been to either place #(apart from being born)#and their parent isnt really a traditional valoidian either so really she can just wear what she wants to #find a cheap gown that matches ur hair and voila #toss a bolero on your shoulders for the ceremony and take it off for the afterparty #go wild go crazy its party

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zaczenemiji · 7 months ago

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Hi there! It's me...again. Hope your doing okay.

I was thinking about a new request about Kenji Sato x Fem! Reader based on the song "Please, Please, Please" from Sabrina Carpenter. Reader is a singer just like her so and has a relationship with Ken but she thinks that some things aren't doing good, but she also has him wrapped around her finger. Like the part with "I beg you, don't embarrass me, mother******". It can be angst but also fluffy and spice (Only if you want to but no smut) It can end in a happy ending.

The rest is up to you because I know you'll do a great job. No need to rush so take your time.

Don’t Prove ‘Em Right

Kenji Sato x Singer!Reader

Word Count: 1,358

Genre/Warnings: Angst (light), Character Development, Drama, Emotional, Redemption

Author’s Note: I went with a bit of angst 🤧

MASTERLIST

“You could do better.”

This was one thing you’ve always heard since you started dating men as a singer. Throughout your career, you were either cheated on, abandoned, or used in a way that they just rode your fame.

Other times, fans would ship you with another singer or celebrity or whoever famous and you’d give it a try for them but the ending is the always same: you two were just pretending for public entertainment and there was never love at all.

Your perception of love blurred the longer you got in the singing industry. You sang about it, wrote songs about it, but you’ve never really experienced it for a significant amount of time or for a significant depth.

That was until you met Kenji.

Despite his fame, he seemed down-to-earth and genuinely interested in getting to know you. He took you to his baseball games and introduced you to his teammates. In return, you invited him to your recording sessions.

Kenji was always supportive, and always encouraging. He seemed genuinely proud of your achievements and was always there for you. Despite his busy schedule, he shows up at your gigs and concerts and cheers you on from the front row.

He had a way of making you feel special like you were the most important person in his world. It was easy to overlook the occasional outbursts, the moments of impulsiveness that seemed to come with his fiery temperament.

You told yourself that everyone had flaws, and Kenji's good qualities far outweighed his bad ones.

You believed in him and in the future you could build together. Despite the red lights and the stop signs, you held on to the belief that this time, this love was right.

But as time went on, the cracks in Kenji's facade began to show. His temper flared more frequently, and his impulsive decisions started to take a toll on your relationship.

You made excuses for him and justified his actions to your friends and family. You told them he’s different.

But they told you that with the way he’s behaving, you’ll just end up in the dumps again—that he’s going to cheat on you, hurt you, leave you, and the ending will be the same…

“You could do better.”

Heartbreak is one thing, but your ego is another. You couldn’t afford your name dominating the headlines again. And for what reason? Another breakup.

You loved him deeply, but the constant cycle of highs and lows was exhausting. You wanted to believe that he could change, that he could be the man you fell in love with.

But the more you tried to fix things, the more you realized that some things were beyond your control.

You sat in front of your vanity doing your makeup nicely. You glanced at the clock. Kenji would be here any minute to pick you up now. Tonight is your big night. It’s an afterparty to celebrate the release of your new single.

Your boyfriend had a reputation for causing a scene. It wasn't entirely his fault—he was passionate but it sometimes translated into impulsiveness. Tonight, of all nights, you needed him to be on his best behavior.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Kenji stood there, looking dashing in a tailored suit, a grin spreading across his face as he saw you.

"Wow, you look stunning," he said, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

"Thanks," you replied, forcing a smile. "You sure you wanna come?"

"Of course," he replied with a confidence that both reassured and worried you. “I’m always here for you.”

You arrived at the venue in no time. Celebrities, reporters, and fans filled the room, all eager to celebrate your success. You and Kenji mingled with the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and accepting congratulations.

But as the night went on, Kenji's behavior started to shift. The drinks were flowing, and while you had stuck to soda water, Kenji had not.

You watched with growing anxiety as he laughed a little too loudly, and gestured a little too wildly. The conversations around you started to feel like a backdrop to a ticking time bomb.

You pulled him aside. "Kenji, please," you whispered urgently. "Just... take it easy, okay?"

He frowned, a mix of confusion and irritation crossing his features. "What? I'm just having a good time."

"I know," you said, forcing another smile. “Just... for me, okay?"

He sighed but nodded and for a while, it seemed like he was keeping his promise. He stuck by your side, an arm around your waist, engaging in polite conversation with your friends and family.

However, you left him one moment and then the next, he was talking to one of the reporters. The latter walked away, a smirk on his face. Kenji turned to you, his face flushed with anger.

"Can you believe that guy?" he spat. "He had the nerve to ask about the last game. Said I sucked."

"Kenji," you said softly, trying to calm him down. You placed your hand on his chest. "It's not worth it."

"But—"

"Please, Kenji. Just... let it go."

He looked at you, the anger in his eyes slowly fading. He took a deep breath and nodded. "For you," he said quietly.

But the reprieve was short-lived. You caught sight of him at the bar, raising his voice at someone who had apparently made a snide comment.

The situation escalated quickly, and before you knew it, Kenji had thrown a punch, causing a commotion that drew everyone's attention.

Your heart sank as security rushed in to break up the fight. You could feel all eyes on you, whispers spreading through the crowd.

You felt a sense of dejà vu as this wasn't the first time Kenji let his emotions get the best of him, and you were able to hold it together as you’ve always done, but then you heard the one thing you hated.

“She could’ve done better.”

Without a word, you grabbed your things and stormed out of the venue, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over.

Not long after, Kenji arrived at your house, disheveled and remorseful. "(Y/n), I'm so sorry," he began, reaching out to you. "I didn't mean to ruin everything."

You stepped back, keeping a distance between you. "Kenji, this can't keep happening. You promised me you would behave tonight!” You said in between sobs. “This was supposed to be my night, and you turned it into a disaster.”

You sat on your couch, your legs feeling too tired to keep you up. "I can't keep making excuses for you,” you continued. “I can't keep sacrificing my career for your mistakes."

Kenji fell silent, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He’s scared. He knew what those words meant. At that moment, he felt like the sky was crashing on him.

"I don't want to lose you, (y/n)," he said quietly, tears falling down. "I love you, and I know I've been screwing up. But I'm willing to do everything to make things right. Therapy, anger management, whatever it takes."

You stared at him, your heart aching with a mix of love and doubt. "Kenji, this isn't just about tonight,” you said. “This has been happening for a while now.“

“Please, (y/n),” he begged, his voice trembling as he knelt in front of you, embracing your legs as he rested his head on your lap. “I want to be the man you deserve. Please, give me one more chance."

Over the next few weeks, Kenji followed through on his promise. He made genuine efforts to address his issues.

He went out of his way to apologize to your friends and family for his behavior at the party, taking full responsibility for his actions.

Slowly but surely, he’s coming back to being the man you fell in love with. He made sure you wouldn’t be the one doing better because he was becoming better himself.

One afternoon, you had lunch with your friends. They asked about how things are now going between you and Kenji. You gave them a smile, a genuine one since after the party.

“He became better.”

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@flowerloves @eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle

#kenji sato x reader #kenji sato #ken sato x reader #ken sato #ultraman #ultraman: rising #fanfiction #oneshot #light angst

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taure-annie · 2 months ago

Text

The Blue Glow

→ premise: What starts as late nights spent helping Paige through heartbreak slowly shifts - until you’re left wondering if friendship was ever the right word. (RoommateAU)

→ word count: 4k

It’s just past two when you hear the key rattle in the front door, followed by the soft creak as it swings open. Paige, your roommate, usually comes home late on Fridays, a little buzzed or maybe high after a night with her teammates or her girlfriend. You’re used to hearing her stumble in, her laughter still lingering from whatever fun she’d been having, always fading into the quiet of the apartment.

You call her name, waiting for her confirmation. She’s the only one with a key, but saying her name and hearing her respond feels safe, like a habit you’ve formed without thinking. Silence. You lean back in your chair, letting your game screen idle as you peer through the small crack in your door.

You wait a moment, letting the silence of the apartment settle around you before it's broken by the unmistakable shuffle of her kicking off her shoes, the soft thud of her door and then steady beat of music seeping from her room.

You turning back to your desktop and unpausing your game. Your fingers move across the key‐ board, killing pixelated monsters and yet still, your mind crawls back to 20 minutes ago, when Paige walked in.

Were you supposed to knock on her door and ask if she was okay? Basic roommate etiquette would assume so, but it's not as though you and Paige were buddy-buddy. Sure, you'd chilled together a few times to catch up on Netflix's latest murder doc and yeah, she'd invited you to one or two of her teammate's afterparties (none of which you'd gone to, instead you offered polite decline that assured she really didn't need to ask you again).

At most, you and Paige were just in each other's orbit. Nothing more than two girls attending the same university who got placed together in an apartment just off-campus.

The clock ticks to 3:15, and finally, the music fades into silence. She’s probably asleep now. You tell yourself to focus on your game, but your gaze drifts to the wall, your thoughts lingering on her room just a few feet away. Honestly, you’re not sure why you’re still awake.

***

You’re unpacking your groceries when you notice her—Paige, sprawled out across the couch like she’s trying to disappear into it. Her hoodie is pulled low over her face, but you can still make out the outline of her eyes, locked on you the moment you glance in her direction.

"You good?" You ask, feeling the need to soften your voice - something in your body tells you to tread carefully.

She yawns, stretches, and when she speaks, her voice is thick with sleep—rougher than usual, like she hasn’t quite woken up. “Yeah, just a bit fucked up.”

There's something in her tone that gives you pause like she's daring you to dig deeper. You hesitate. It sounds bad to say, but you've always liked the unspoken agreement between you two - the comfortable distance, once again, like planets moving in the same orbit but never touching.

You take the bait. "What's up?"

She pushes herself up, so she's now resting on her elbows, “Ari fucking broke up with me."

The two had seemed to be one of the few couples who could go the distance. In the few games you attended, you'd seen her girlfriend always present, aptly draped in a number 5 jersey titled 'Bueckers'. As far as college relationships went, it seemed like love.

"Oh." It's all you manage to say at first, unsure of how to respond. Were you supposed to hug her?

Paige drops back onto the couch, covering her face with her hands. "Yeah, oh."

"And it's final?" You ask, "Cause, it's never really over, over. It's probably -"

"She blocked me," she cuts in, still deep within the recesses of her hoodie. "She probably blocked me the moment I left her place ... I've messaged her and called her but it goes straight to green or voice mail."

You nod, once again unsure of what to say next. You'd don't have to think because Paige drops in again. She had a one-of-a-kind skill of unknowingly being able to fill in silences.

"It's not like I cheated or she cheated," you hear the emotions flooding back into her voice - it's not sadness, well it probably is but it's wrapped up in anger and disbelief. "Which spins me because it's not like we were in a bad spot - okay yeah, I wouldn't respond sometimes, but that's normal, sometimes I'm genuinely tired from training!"

"Maybe she's stressed too and it's all a bit too much to deal with," You say.

She throws you a quick look, something between betrayal and you're not helping. It's fast, and she cools her features back to normal.

"- Not that I'm saying it's a good excuse," you counter, "But, it's something to consider. Did she actually say why?"

"Something about I'm not present. It's bullshit," she sighs.

You want to say something comforting, anything, but everything that comes to mind feels hollow. Besides, it's not like whatever you could say could put a bandage over a 2 year relationship ending.

She sits up again, her hoodie falling back to it's rightful face. She looks around the room, her eyes itching for something to distract her from whatever uncomfortable feelings she can feel rising. Her eyes fall on her set of keys, the original red fob you'd both received on move-in day had long been overtaken by numerous keychains and fabric bracelets - even a heart picture frame.

"Hey, do you want to do something?" She asks, "Get out of here for a bit?"

At the tip of your tongue is some vague excuse about how you really need to cook right now, but before it can come out, she speaks again.

"Please - I really need to step out for a bit." Her voice is soft, just about holding back a crack.

You're not a monster so of course, you nod and say sure. You don't ask where to until you're following her long strides down the hall and into the low-lit car park. The night feels colder than usual and your bare feet in slides feel anything but appropriate for the weather.

An orange glow from a stray streetlight casts a small tinge of light on her face as she unlocks the door to her car. "I was thinking of going to the outdoor court. You know, the one near the park? It's just a short drive. I could really use a change of scenery, and maybe shooting around would help clear my head .... that cool?"

"Yeah," you say, because what else could you say? "That’s cool."

How cliche you think - a basketball player needing to shoot hops to clear their head.

The drive is quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. Paige keeps her eyes on the road, and the tension in her shoulders is palpable. You can't help but think this is how she looks when she's on the bench, (playing the game in her mind, sizing up the opposition and just yearning to get back in).

Connecticut's lights blur past as you make your way out of the downtown area, the campus fading away as she turns into a quieter, more residential neighbourhood. The basketball court comes into view, illuminated by a few scattered streetlights and a single overhead light, casting a gentle glow over the cracked asphalt and faded court markings.

She pulls into the nearest parking bay, reversing in with ease, her arm draping over your headrest as she checks the mirror. It's then that you wonder how many times she's done this exact move with her ex. You imagine her ex sitting where you are now, lips fresh with a kiss and the seat shaped by her form.

A whole two years, you think. No wonder she was going stair-crazy.

You're now out of the car, rocking on the back of your feet as Paige gets her duffle bag out of the car. It's at that point when she finally asks you about your day.

You shrug, "It's been ight, nothing much to be fair. Just trying to get my head around ... we've got a new TA and the bitch marks hard as hell."

She chuckles in response, "Damn, tough one. You do something with economics, right?"

"Yeah, something about economics. Not my first choice but it's gonna do the job," you reply trailing behind her longer strides as she leads you both into the empty court.

"Economics. Get the job done?" she repeats with a playful scoff, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Can't tell if you're being humble or—"

"Not humble," you interject, "It's an ends to means."

She unzips her duffle bag and brings out her ball and bounces it a few times, the rhythmic thud echoing softly in the quiet night. "What's the end goal then?"

You're shrugging as you go to take your place on the edge of the court, watching as Paige moves around and seemingly becomes one with the court. (something about seeing her in her natural ele‐ ment) "Probably some cushy consulting job. I'm not gonna lie, I've got no idea but I've lowkey liked the subject all through school, it's just made sense to do it."

Paige dribbles the ball a few times, then takes a shot. The ball cuts through the air and swishes through the hoop. light work.

"I'm guessing you've always known what you wanted to do," you continue.

She nods, bounces the ball again, but this her feet and body moving across the court as though she's playing the last two minutes of a game. "Yup! It's always been basketball. From elementary, middle school and high school. Nothing but ball." she punctuates her last line with a throw.

"Wish that were me!" you say.

She looks over at you, the ball now finding itself passing from hand to hand. "You wanted to play ball?"

It's your turn to scoff, "No, I'm talking about the whole knowing what you wanted to do from the get go."

Paige pauses mid-dribble, her eyes narrowing playfully as she studies you. "Yeah, I get that. Not everyone figures it out early. But, you know, it's not like it's been easy. Just because I knew doesn't mean it wasn't a grind."

She takes another shot, and the ball glides through the net with a satisfying swish. As she retrieves it, she adds, "There's a lot of pressure, too. Once you say 'this is it,' everyone expects you to stick with it, no matter what."

You watch as she moves across the court, her pace slower now, more thoughtful. "I guess I just got lucky," she continues. "Or maybe I was stubborn. It's hard to tell sometimes."

"I guess that makes you one of the few," you say, leaning back against the fence, watching her with a mix of admiration and something else - something you can't quite put your finger on. Is this what her fans felt? It always spun you that she had fans. Fans. Would they be jealous right now? "Most people I know are still figuring it out, including me."

Paige stops dribbling and looks at you, her expression softening. "You've got time," she says, her voice losing some of its earlier intensity. "There's no rush to have it all figured out. Sometimes, the best things come when you least expect them."

She tosses the ball to you, and it lands in your hands with a gentle thud. You can feel the worn leather under your fingers, still warm from her grip. For a moment, you're both silent, the weight of her words hanging in the cool night air.

"Maybe," you say quietly, the ball feeling heavier and heavier in your hands. "But sometimes it feels like everyone else is racing ahead while I'm stuck at the start line."

"Play with me," she says, gesturing you over.

You look down at the ball and then back to her, "You're a D1 athlete. You're just gonna show me up plus I don't even know how to shoot."

"Come on, I'll teach you," There's a playful glint in her eyes. "It'll make me like five percent less sad."

You hesitate, but her enthusiasm is contagious. She hands the ball back to you and steps behind, lightly adjusting your stance. "Feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent," she instructs, her hands guiding yours on the ball. "Use your legs for power, wrist for control."

You try to follow her lead, feeling her breath close as she directs your movements. "And when you shoot, remember, follow through, like you're reaching into a cookie jar."

You chuckle at the analogy and take a shot. The ball bounces off the rim, and Paige claps. "Not bad. Let's go again."

Paige steps in front of you, her tone shifting slightly as she moves into coach mode. You can tell she's probably coached some little league somewhere here in Connecticut or wherever her home state was - she’d mentioned it numerous times but you’d forgotten. "Alright, keep your elbow in and focus on the backboard," she says, her hands demonstrating the movement. "And don't forget, it's all about the follow through."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Alright, coach. I got it."

"It's Coach P," She smirks, her eyes twinkling. "Just trying to make you a baller." You take another shot, and this time, the ball swishes through the net. Paige cheers, giving you a high five. "There it is! You're a natural."

"Light work" you say with a grin. It's anything but.

Paige bumps you lightly with her shoulder. "Not bad at all. But next time, we're working on your dribbling cause that shit was shocking."

***

Nights at the court, which you’d now come to know was actually called St Bernard’s Court, became routine much like when you’d call her name when she’d come back to the apartment.

You’d gotten used to settling into the passenger seat of her car, the familiar hum of the engine surrounding you as she drove, her hands gripping the wheel with that same steady determination. Conversations, once filled with awkward pauses and small talk, now flowed effortlessly. They were the kind of talks that never seemed to end - about everything and nothing, the mundane details of life at uni, complaints about bad food at the cafeteria, or her latest training session. It was simple.

Sometimes, she’d give up her dictator-like hold over the music and let your playlists take over, though more often than not, you let hers play on. You never minded; there was something comforting about the predictable beats of her curated selections. Her taste was always a little sharper, more nuanced than yours, and you found yourself adding some of songs to your liked list when you’d gotten back to the safety of your own room.

Sometimes, after an hour of shooting around, you’d both end up on the concrete, sitting against the low bleachers, legs stretched out before you, talking about whatever came to mind and letting the cold settle deep into your skin. But more often than not, the conversation would shift to her ex. It had become a quiet pattern: Paige would talk about her like it was a distant, painful memory she was still learning how to deal with.

She’d mention her in passing, her tone casual at first, as though it didn’t sting anymore.

It reminded you like she was just like any other girl despite the fame. Unable to resist feigning indifference to hurt - so you didn’t judge because you’d done it over and over.

“I don’t even know why she said that,” Paige would say, tossing the ball back into her hands, eyes focused on something far off. “I never meant to be distant. You know how it is; practice, school, games... life’s a lot.” She’d sigh, running a hand through her hair, shaking her head.

And then, almost like she couldn’t help herself, the bitterness would slip in. “She made it sound like I didn’t care at all,” Paige muttered, kicking the ball across the court. “Like it was all about me, me, me.” Her voice softened, the edges raw, the anger melting into something unspoken and lingering. “She didn’t even give me a chance to explain, to fix things. Not that it matters now.”

You listened. Not to solve anything, not to offer some platitude about how she’d be better off. You listened because, in those quiet moments, it felt like her words were a way of processing, a way to let the weight of everything settle into something less heavy.

Her ex wasn’t just a past relationship, not just a name you’d heard murmured in the back of conversations. She was a part of Paige’s present, even if it was an unwelcome one, lingering in the way Paige looked at the court sometimes, or the way she pulled away when you tried to get too close. Her ex was a shadow that loomed over your conversations, her absence filling the spaces that Paige didn’t want to admit she missed.

“You know, I thought she was the one,” Paige would often say with a dry laugh, picking at the fabric of her hoodie. “Stupid, huh?” She’d shake her head like it was all so ridiculous now. But the way she’d say it, softly, almost tenderly, like she was still trying to convince herself.

And then, just as quickly, she’d pull herself out of it, focusing on something else. “Anyway, I’m not thinking about her tonight,” she’d say, standing up and grabbing the ball.

At some point she’d move on. Stop needing the nights at the court and you’d be proud because your friend (it felt weird to call her a friend thinking about the times you’d dodged her invitations for connection, but things were different now) had moved on.

***

The nights eventually come to an end.

They’re stopped when you’re sitting in yours and Paige’s shared living room, letting the tv play in the background as you listlessly scroll on your phone.

The door to her room is closed but you can hear the familiar music playing through it. She emerges, her face flushed and eyes bright - frantic even.

“Yo ... Guess who just called me?” She announces, taking what felt like her first breath in hours.

You look up, the question hanging in the air between you. Your thumb hovers over your phone’s screen, trying to gauge her excitement.

Paige’s gaze is intense, a slight nervous energy vibrating beneath her words. She doesn’t wait for you to guess.

“Ari,” she says, her voice a little softer now, like she’s unsure what to feel about it. “She called me.” The words hit you unexpectedly, like a slow tide pulling at your feet. A small knot forms in your stomach, not because you’re unhappy for her, but because you weren’t prepared for this.

“Oh shit,” you manage to say, trying to push away the strange, unexpected sensation that’s fluttered inside you.

“She said sorry. She said she made a mistake. Fuck, I... I don’t know even know what think.”

You lean forward a little, trying to sound reassuring. “I mean, that’s a good sign, right? She’s reaching out.”

Paige exhales a short laugh, glancing down at her hands before looking back up at you. “I guess? But fuck, it just feels... messy.”

You nod, understanding the weight of her uncertainty. You’ve seen how much this relationship meant to her, and it’s clear she’s torn.

“You wanna talk about it?” you ask.

She shakes her head, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Not yet, I think. I just... I need to think. It’s all a bit much, you know?”

The room goes silent, save for the faint hum of the TV in the background.

For a moment, you sit in the quiet, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. And maybe it’s just you, or maybe it’s just the way Paige is looking at you now, but you sense that something has shifted—ever so slightly, but undeniably.

You’re still not sure what that means yet, or if it means anything at all. But for now, you don’t push.

She sighs and falls back onto the couch, closing her eyes. “I’ll figure it out,” she says softly, more to herself than to you but you know she’s already made her choice.

You lean back, turning your attention back to your phone, but there’s an odd feeling in your chest that refuses to settle. For a moment, you wonder what would have happened if things had gone differently, if she’d never gotten that call. But before you can think too much about it, Paige shifts beside you, her presence pulling you back down to earth.

“Thanks,” she says quietly.

You smile, almost relieved that the tension has eased, even if only for now. “Anytime.”

The night stretches on, the air between you both comfortable again. And yet, you can’t help but wonder why you feel torn. Why aren’t you bubbling with happiness, like how you’d reacted when Zen had called you in senior year to say she and Trevor had gotten back together.

Eventually, you leave the couch, muttering an excuse about needing to get back to studying.

Ari comes back into the fold of life at yours and Paige’s apartment like she’d never left.

The songs that used to fill Paige’s room—those soft, sad, contemplative ones—shift back to some‐ thing lighter, more upbeat. Her shoes reappear, scattered carelessly by the door, mingling with Paige’s own, like they always belonged together. And just like that, you go back to being good roommates.

That doesn’t hurt. It’s respectful - because who’d let their girlfriend spend nights at the basketball court together? It makes sense.

It only hurts when you come back to the apartment and see them on the couch. The lights dimmed, a fluffy blanket over their legs and a Christmas movie playing.

The first time it happens, you’re awkward. Painfully awkward. Your body not knowing how to react for the first time to something you’d seen countless times before.

You hesitate in the doorway, suddenly unsure of how to move, unsure of what to say. The air between the three of you feels thicker, heavier than it ever has before. You wish you could say something light, make a joke.

They don’t even notice at first - Paige’s attention is wholly focused on the TV screen, her hand absentmindedly brushing through her girlfriend’s hair. You feel like you’re not even supposed to be here, even though it’s your apartment too.

Eventually, though, Paige looks up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a second, the warmth in them falters. She smiles, but it’s tight, apologetic.

“Hey,” she says, her voice a little too bright, a little too forced. “You’re back. We were just watching this cheesy Christmas movie. Wanna join?”

The offer is there, hanging in the air between you, but the tension is palpable. You force a smile, shaking your head quickly.

“Nah, it’s fine,” your voice comes out more strained than you’d intended. “I was just coming in to ... grab something.”

You spend the rest of the night at Zen’s.

“So bitch, what the hell is up with you?” Zen asks. her gaze sharp as she watches you.

You blink, focusing back on her, the buzz of the rosé clouding your thoughts. “Nothing, I’m fine,” you reply, maybe a little too quickly.

“Sure ... sure you are,” she says with a knowing look, before taking a long sip from her glass, then a pause. “Dude, you’ve literally been distracted all night. Moping around everywhere.”

You hesitate, a little caught off guard. You’ve told Zen about Paige, from the odd first meeting to playing basketball together and to the events which took place hours ago.

“You sure you’re okay with them... back together?” Zen continues, her voice quieter, but there’s a softness to it now. She’s not trying to push, just letting the question sit there.

The idea that maybe everyone sees what you’re trying to hide - maybe even Paige - that part makes you feel sick.

You take another sip of your wine, the sweet sharpness of it doing nothing to dull the growing ache in your chest.

“Yeah,” you say again, but it’s not convincing. Not to Zen. Not to yourself.

Zen’s eyes soften, and for a moment, she doesn’t look at you like she’s waiting for a response. She looks at you like she already knows the answer. You know it. Damn.

***

A/N: My first Paige fic! let me know what you think and if I should continue ... I haven't written fanfiction in years, which is a shame because I used really enjoy the fic writing/reading community. I've literally had this blog on the backburner for the last 3 or so years just waiting to find the right thing to write about and here it is ... I think?

#paige bueckers #paige x reader #uconn wbb #uconn x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers angst #ncaa wbb #ncaaw #wcbb #uconn huskies

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verstarppen · 1 year ago

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omfg i love your fics they’re so funny 😭😭 i had an idea for a max fic that i think you would do so well 🫶 so like she’s his teammate and she has a bf (no idea who but prob another athlete or something since they tend to kinda be fboys 👀 but not another driver please because those dynamics make me cringe in second hand embarrassment 🙏) then he like cheats on her publicly, but she decides to live in idgafistan and max helps her make her ex jealous 😝 but he’s like actually been into her for a really long time and everyone ships them and stuff and then he bags her with his irresistible chronically offline awkward white boy rizz 💋

summary; cheaters deserve to get cheated out of their career, or at least that's how max justifies destroying your ex's life

pairing; max verstappen x fem! red bull driver! reader [ no faceclaim ]

warnings; suggestive language, swearing

a/n; DISCLAIMER the boyfriend is made up and also a sims 2 reference, if by chance there is a real tennis player by the name of Dominic Lothario im so sorry sir this was not written with you in mind ALSO this is my VERY sneaky way of telling everyone my favorite song is trophäe by paula carolina so naturally i had to shove the word trophy everywhere to justify using lyrics as the title I HOPE I DID YOUR PROMPT JUSTICE also i skipped over singapore because we don't talk about singapore

liked by ynln7, charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 2,104,962 others

maxverstappen1 The only time I've cheated.

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feeltheorange WHAT DID HE SAYYYY

meepshoemaker the double take i just did cracked my neck

yukinator22 NAHHHHHHHHH

albogeant BRO DIDN'T EVEN GIVE HER TIME TO RECOVER LMAOOOOOOOO

ynln7 everyone has permission to laugh i came up with the caption

pierregasly Thank god charles_leclerc I'm going to hell I laughed before I saw your comment pierregasly Me too ynln7 assholes (affectionately)

liked by christianhorner, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 4,592,577 others

ynln7 anyway

view all 909,289 comments

christianhorner This is not the team bonding I was talking about

charles_leclerc Shut up, some of us have waited years for this pierregasly Seconded danielricciardo Third...ed?

simplyclerc LET HIM COOK

lionkingseb max verstapprizz

mcmango he saw an opportunity and he took it

redbullpapaya i manifested this with magic beyond the human comprehension

liked by maxverstappen1, ynln7, christianhorner and 2,102,094 others

redbullracing An immaculate performance today from @ maxvestappen1 and @ ynln7 that’s a 6th Constructors’ Championship for the team!! 🏆 CONGRATULATIONS, WORLD CHAMPIONS!!

view all 869,291 comments

super_max they know they ate

staraikkonen the blueprint for all powercouples

shadownorris LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO

angelricciardo talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference

dominic_lothario 👎

redbullracing Shouldn't you be looking for a job? What are you doing in our comments.

kirbyvettel MAXY/N SWEEP

maxverstappen1 The trophy is not my only win this week @ ynln7

ynln7 ok now let me pass you maxverstappen1 No 🧡 You're pretty in p2

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, christianhorner and 693,420 others

ynln7 celebrating the win the RIGHT way (playing f1 2023)

view all 108,003 comments

easportsf1 Amen

ynln7 LMAO

maxverstappen1 I let you win

ynln7 bruised ego alert

christianhorner Such a RESPONSIBLE team, aren't we?

orangleclerc THE T-SHIRT

strawberryrosberg Did they turn down the afterparty invite for this because mad respect

charles_leclerc Tell me your record, I'll beat it

ynln7 in your dreams, leclerc maxverstappen1 Beat us in real life first charles_leclerc First of all.

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #instagram au #social media au #max verstappen au

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starryhyuck · 1 year ago

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against all odds. (m)

pairing: gryffindor!jaehyun x slytherin!afab!reader

words: 13.2k+

summary: jeong jaehyun has always had the biggest crush on you. that is, until he finds out you’re engaged to nakamoto yuta.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: jaehyun and reader are extremely horny, pregnancy, penetrative sex, rough sex, public sex, pussy eating, creampies, breeding kink, fingering, squirting, dick sucking, messy sex

Jaehyun feels like he’s on top of the world.

He’s managed to secure another Gryffindor win under his arm with his House praising his ability to spot the Golden Snitch so quickly. Many have speculated that Jaehyun’s the best Seeker the Gryffindor team has seen in years, and that he could easily go into the professional sport after graduating. Jaehyun tries not to let the whispers go straight to his head, even though playing Quidditch on a professional level is his ultimate dream.

The Gryffindor afterparties have gradually become more hectic as the season passes. The party planning committee has been attempting to outdo themselves every time the team bags another victory. The current one is surrounded by a monstrous amount of Firewhisky and dizzy students dressed head to toe in red and gold.

Jaehyun thinks he’s about to turn in for the night until he spots you.

It’s very unusual to see the Slytherin queen casually lounging around in the lion’s den, but you manage to blend in effortlessly. You’re giggling into Jihyo’s ear, prodding the Quidditch captain to take another sip of her drink.

Jaehyun’s always harbored a small crush on you ever since his first year at Hogwarts, but considering you were sorted into separate houses, he never got to spend much time with you. Once Jihyo spots him, however, he doesn’t have much time to flee.

“Jaehyun!”

She grabs his elbow and pulls him forward until he’s standing directly in front of you. Your eyes lock with his, and his heart beats so loudly that he’s sure you can hear it.

“This is our star player,” Jihyo says, stumbling a bit over her words. “He’s the greatest Gryffindor has ever seen!”

“Jihyo,” he grumbles in embarrassment, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

“Nice to meet you, Jaehyun,” you smile, extending your hand out. He awkwardly shakes it, trying not to focus on the fact that his palms are abnormally sweaty. You don’t seem to mind, taking another sip of your drink. “Does your captain here always follow the rules?”

“Annoyingly so,” he chuckles, familiar with Jihyo’s inability to relax most of the time.

As the captain of the most talked about Quidditch team of the decade, Jihyo didn’t have blocks of time in her schedule for fun. She was always planning the best strategy for the next match or conspiring with the team to see what tricks their opponents would pull. Jaehyun notes how you encourage Jihyo to take the edge off by pouring more Firewhisky into her glass.

“No no no,” Jihyo sighs, pushing you away. “I can’t keep drinking. The Quidditch Cup is still at play.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes. “If Jaehyun’s as good as you say he is, then it’s not something you should worry about.”

Jaehyun knows his ears are probably burning bright red by now. Your smile has to be the prettiest sight he’s ever seen, and he secretly wishes he could use a Time Turner to ask the Sorting Hat to place him in Slytherin instead.

“If you pour me another glass, I’ll expose your Slytherin ass right here, right now!”

You simply smirk at Jihyo’s empty threat. “Go ahead. I’m sure the lions would love to devour the head snake.”

There’s no way Jaehyun’s getting turned on right now. Not in the middle of this celebration party, where most of his friends can visibly see him. He abruptly coughs and adjusts the growing tent in his pants.

“I should go to bed,” he says awkwardly. “I’ll see you both later?”

Jihyo beams. “See? What a good Quidditch player! I’m going to bed too!”

“Not so fast,” you laugh, pulling her back. You throw Jaehyun one last look. “See you around, Jae.”

Jaehyun would never admit to anyone that he cast a silencing charm around himself that night to muffle his growing moans. He would never admit that he imagined you on your knees for him, your pretty eyes fluttering as you took him in your mouth. He would never admit he wanted to tangle his fingers through your hair as he pinned you down and fucked you until you cried.

No, this was something he had to carry to his grave.

—

“Today, we’ll be discussing the strongest love potion in the world, Amortentia.”

Johnny rolls his eyes, nudging Jaehyun’s side. “Here we go again,” Johnny whispers gruffly.

Amortentia was an assignment they covered last year, sending most of the classroom hormones ablaze as people tried to convince each other they smelled them in their potion. Johnny and Jaehyun received the brunt end of it, with love letters greeting them at breakfast nearly everyday.

A hand shoots up in the air. “Professor, we covered this topic already,” Mingyu complains. Jaehyun recalls Mingyu also received his fair share of letters the previous year.

“Good recall, Mingyu. However, we’ve never done a project with Amortentia that supports interhouse unity.”

Johnny coughs next to Jaehyun. “This has to be a joke.”

The professor claps his hands and grins, confirming Jaehyun’s worst fear. “Please find your partner for this assignment! The only requirement is that it has to be someone from a different house.”

“I’m grabbing Doyoung,” Johnny hisses before he vanishes from Jaehyun’s side.

Jaehyun’s mind works a little slower, trying to think about who he can partner up with before he feels someone poke his shoulder. He turns to see you behind him, your smile once again making his heart beat out of his chest. You take Johnny’s place and set your books down next to his.

“Nice to see you again, partner.”

“You want to be partners?” Jaehyun stutters.

You giggle. “Why? Is the star player taken already?”

“No! No, definitely not,” he says, wincing at how loud his voice rises.

You just laugh at him. “Good. I heard you’re just as good in your studies as you are on the field.”

Jaehyun opens his mouth to respond, thinking about other ways he can impress you off the field, but the professor claps his hands again.

“Wonderful! Looks like you all have found a partner. The assignment until the end of the term is to brew a batch of Amortentia and document what you smell at the end of each week.”

Doyoung raises his hand with a bored expression. “Professor, what we smell in the Amortentia potion is meant to reflect what we find the most attractive. I don’t believe this changes weekly.”

“I beg to differ! As you all are growing young adults, your taste and interests do, in fact, change everyday! I want to highlight this unique fact about students your age with this assignment.”

The professor dismisses the rumble of arguments that grow throughout the room, offering more details about the project before class ends. Once he’s finished talking, your head turns to face Jaehyun.

“How about we meet up later tonight and brew the first batch?”

“Y-Yeah! After Quidditch practice?”

You grin, gathering your books and standing. “See you there.”

Jaehyun’s eyes linger on the sway of your hips as you walk away. He’s totally fucked.

—

Jaehyun knows he’s terribly distracted at Quidditch practice.

Jihyo is reprimanding him for his carelessness as the Snitch zooms past him and he doesn’t even attempt to grab it. He takes all of her constructive criticism to heart, fingers gripping his broom tightly as he tries to focus.

His mind betrays him, nonetheless, wandering to the idea of you studying in the library. He imagines your knee high socks clinging to your skin, the bottom of your skirt barely covering the tops of your thighs. He wonders how high your skirt will rise if he asks you to grab him a book from the top shelf. Maybe your panties will peek out, showing him an eyeful of-

“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you today?” Jaehyun blinks, returning to reality. Johnny’s floating in front of him, eyebrows raised. “You missed the Snitch again. You’re lucky Jihyo didn’t see it.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Sorry. I’m just all over the place today.”

Johnny leans forward, eyes narrowing at him. Jaehyun would normally be disturbed if this was anyone else, but he recognizes that look on Johnny’s face. Almost as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

Johnny stares at him for a few more seconds before he starts laughing, clutching his stomach and almost falling off his broom.

“What?” Jaehyun frowns, not understanding the joke.

Johnny manages to calm himself down, brushing away his tears of joy.

“You’re pussydrunk!”

“What?” Jaehyun questions, eyebrows furrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Johnny chuckles and calls Jihyo over.

“I know what’s wrong with Jaehyun,” Johnny says confidently.

She’s far from amused. “Well, please enlighten us. I’d love to know why my star player is playing at the worst I’ve seen in years.”

“Jaehyun’s got a little crush.”

Jihyo’s pissed-off expression turns into one of happiness when she hears Johnny’s reply, and Jaehyun’s shocked to see the captain giggling into her palm.

“No way! For who?”

“He hasn’t said.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you two are on,” Jaehyun mutters in agitation. “But I don’t have a crush. I’m just distracted, that’s all.”

Jihyo snickers. “Now I really don’t believe you. Well, make sure that whoever it is doesn’t prevent you from playing at your best this weekend. Fuck in the locker rooms beforehand for all I care.”

“That’s not-“ Jaehyun tries to argue, growing more and more red by each passing second. He fails to find a comeback and zooms away, ignoring Johnny and Jihyo’s laughter at his predicament.

—

Jaehyun has to talk himself up before entering the Potions classroom.

He knows you’re already in there, waiting for him to begin your assignment. He’s conjured up a few conversation starters that he thinks will work well with you. He probably looks like such a loser, but he genuinely hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you and it’s starting to drive him insane.

He coughs quietly before opening the door, pausing at the sight of you leaned over the cauldron, the illumination of the potion casting a glow over your face. You look up and smile, and he swears his heart stops in his chest.

“Hey, there you are,” you laugh softly. “How was Quidditch practice?”

He manages to gather himself enough to join you at the Potions table, setting his bag down. “It was alright. I was a little in my head so Jihyo was a bit displeased.”

You waved him off. “I’m sure you were fine. Jihyo just needs to relax.”

He chuckles. “That’s an understatement.”

“Well, I actually brewed the potion while I was waiting for you. All we need to do is document what we smell for today and we’ll be set.”

Jaehyun frowns. “I’m sorry you had to brew it alone. I would’ve asked Jihyo to leave early if I-“

You giggle and shake your head. “Jae, you’re completely fine. I just didn’t want to keep you too long in case you needed to rest. I can’t imagine having to juggle Quidditch with these silly assignments everyday.”

His heart warms by the fact that you’re so considerate of him, but he’s also disappointed that he has less time to spend with you. In order to avoid looking like he’s lingering too long, he thanks you and leans over the cauldron. It’s no surprise that it smells exactly like you, and the tip of his ears bloom red. He rattles off random scents and avoids your gaze.

When you lean over, there’s a small hope in his chest that he is the object of your desire. Even the faintest touch of Quidditch grass in your Amortentia potion would have him jumping for joy.

You quickly withdraw from the cauldron, almost as if you immediately recognize the scent.

He clears his throat. “What did you smell?”

You shrug. “Iris and jasmine. Typical.”

And his heart falls straight to the ground.

—

“What do I smell like?”

Johnny jolts back in his seat at the sight of his best friend frantically pushing his neck towards Johnny’s face. Doyoung is also startled by Jaehyun’s presence, gasping and placing a hand over his chest.

“Merlin, Jaehyun. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jaehyun ignores the awkward stares from his other Gryffindor housemates. He slumps down in one of the common room chairs, facing Johnny and Doyoung from their spot on the sofa.

“Do you think I smell like iris and jasmine?”

Johnny exchanges a look with Doyoung, who shrugs at Jaehyun’s unnatural behavior.

Johnny sighs. “I mean, not really. You always just kind of smell like grass and amber.”

“But do you think I could?” Jaehyun asks, eyes a little more frantic. “Do you think I could smell like iris and jasmine? Especially to someone who doesn’t know me that well?”

Doyoung leans over to whisper to Johnny, even though Jaehyun can clearly still hear him.

“I think this is about the Amortentia assignment.”

Johnny’s eyes light up. “Oh, so this is about that girl you’re pussydrunk for!”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen at the volume of Johnny’s voice. He throws himself across the room to cover his best friend’s mouth.

Johnny just laughs and pries him off. “Listen, dude, I get you’re pussydrunk right now but this stupid assignment is the last thing you need to worry about. We have the qualifier game against Slytherin tomorrow, remember?”

And Jaehyun knows Johnny’s right. He tries not to think about you for the rest of the day and puts Quidditch at the forefront in his mind.

Jihyo holds a mandatory practice that night to run over the key plays, and it takes everything in Jaehyun to stop thinking about what you would look like in Gryffindor colors, cheering him on in the stands.

On the day of the match, he throws himself into the sport that he knows best. He doesn’t falter at the sight of the Slytherin seeker, Nakamoto Yuta, who mindlessly chews his gum on the field before the game starts. Yuta’s known for his carefree attitude, contrasting his sharp flying abilities and quick wit.

He smirks at the sight of Jaehyun, tilting his head slightly to challenge him. Jaehyun narrows his eyes and maintains his focus, immediately taking off once the whistle is blown to signal the start of the game.

The match is high with exhilaration from the two rival teams, with Gryffindor and Slytherin battling it out like no other. Jaehyun knows he and Yuta have to be the tie-breaker since the points from both sides aren’t adding up as quickly as anticipated, and he can see Jihyo’s frustration from across the field.

It’s an hour into the game when Jaehyun sees the fluttering wings.

He doesn’t hesitate, taking off and chasing the Snitch. Yuta spots it at the same exact time and quickly follows. The two are neck and neck until Jaehyun’s hand stretches a little farther than Yuta’s, securing the Snitch in his hand and effectively ending the game.

“Yes! Another game ending win from Jeong Jaehyun! Gryffindor advances to the finals of the Quidditch Cup!”

The audience breaks out in applause and cheers, and Jaehyun finally allows himself to take it in. Just like with every other game, Johnny rushes over to wrap him in a hug once they’re on the ground.

“That’s my boy! Only Jeong Jaehyun can do that!”

Jaehyun laughs when the whole team joins in on the hug, wrapping arms around one another in a sweaty pile of victory.

“Gryffindor! Gryffindor! Gryffindor!”

The stadium chants loudly and Jaehyun feels happiness spread all the way down to his toes. He chuckles when Jihyo embraces him, almost crying herself.

The team gets cleaned up in the locker rooms before heading out to celebrate their win. Jaehyun’s surprised to see a few Slytherins lingering around, and even more surprised when one of them happens to be you.

Was it possible that you were waiting for him? That would be ridiculous, right?

And just as he’s about to call out your name to confirm his suspicion, he stops in his tracks when Yuta approaches you. Freshly showered, Yuta swings an arm around your shoulder effortlessly.

Jaehyun’s heart stops in his chest.

Yuta spots him out of the corner of his eye and whispers something in your ear. Jaehyun feels frozen on the spot when the two of you grow closer and closer to him.

“Jeong, nice game out there. I guess it’s true when they say you’re the best Seeker in our year,” Yuta compliments, lips still twisted in a smirk.

Jaehyun’s eyes are hyper focused on Yuta’s arm dangling from your shoulder while you look like the picture perfect girlfriend.

You smile at him, not sensing his discomfort. “Yeah, great game, Jae. Gryffindor’s star player indeed.”

Yuta laughs and hums in agreement. Jaehyun can’t find any words to say, almost like they’re lodged in the middle of his throat, so he nods instead.

“Well, we won’t ruin your victory party,” Yuta winks, arm moving downwards to wrap around your waist. “See you around.”

You smile at him again as you and Yuta begin walking back to the castle. “Bye, Jae.”

Jaehyun remains rooted in his spot, heart breaking into a million little pieces.

The scent of iris and jasmine overwhelms him.

—

“Why didn’t you tell me she was with Yuta?”

“I didn’t know she was the one you were pussydrunk for!”

Jaehyun groans, collapsing in one of the big chairs in the Gryffindor common room. He roughly runs his fingers through his hair as Johnny stares at him worriedly.

After finally coming to his senses, Jaehyun had managed to locate his best friend and confront him about his knowledge of you and Yuta.

“And technically, they’re not actually together,” Johnny corrects, trying to mend Jaehyun’s heartbreak. “Their families are the old Slytherin type so they’ve been engaged since birth. I don’t think they’re willingly dating.”

“She smelled him,” Jaehyun whispers, wringing his hands together. “In her Amortentia potion. That’s why I was asking you and Doyoung what I smell like.”

Johnny winces. “Maybe you brewed the potion wrong?”

Jaehyun curses. Of course this had to happen to him. The one person he genuinely has feelings for, a person he will desperately beg for attention, is not only taken, but engaged to someone else.

Just his luck.

“How am I supposed to keep doing this project with her?” He mutters roughly to Johnny, like taking out his anger on the tall Gryffindor will help his situation. “She’s going to keep smelling Yuta every week and I know all I’ll smell is her.”

Johnny can sense his friend is mentally combusting and tries his best to help.

“Rumor is that they don’t romantically like one another. It’s more of a mutual transaction — if they don’t end up with each other, they’ll have to get married to a random stranger. Listen, you can win her over with that Jeong charm, I know you can. The whole arranged marriage tradition can’t keep lasting for generations. Someone has to break it, and maybe this is the time.”

“And the chances of her actually leaving him?”

The look on his friend’s face tells Jaehyun everything he needs to know.

Maybe this is a sign that he should move on. He’s had a crush on you for long enough, and it clearly will never go anywhere beyond his imagination. He knows that he shouldn’t bring it up or even mention his discovery of it, but the next time he meets you for the project, he can’t help himself. The sight of you looking so fucking breathtaking while you carefully mix peppermint flower is enough for his common sense to switch off.

“Are you engaged to Yuta?”

You pause at the question, an eyebrow raised at him in confusion. He doesn’t blame you since the past twenty minutes of brewing the potion have been spent in complete silence before his inquiry.

“Um, yeah, I am. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” he murmurs under his breath. “When will you get married?”

“It’s customary to marry immediately after schooling. Our parents have been planning it since before we were born,” you share, sounding like you’ve already explained this thousands of times.

He coughs awkwardly. “Sorry for the interrogation, I’m not very familiar with Slytherin customs.”

“It’s okay,” you smile assuredly as you drop the peppermint flowers into the cauldron. “Many other houses are usually curious about our situation. I never realized how abnormal it looks from the outside until I came to Hogwarts.”

“You should get a choice, you know,” he replies, chewing his bottom lip nervously. “A choice to choose who you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

If you sense any underlying intentions in Jaehyun’s statement, you don’t show it. Instead, you plaster on another perfect smile and he realizes how rehearsed it looks.

“Yuta is my best friend. Even though we didn’t choose each other, it’s not a bad thing to end up with someone you can trust. If anything, it’s a wonderful gift.”

The words don’t even sound like yours. It sounds more like someone spoon fed it to you in the hopes that you would end up believing it yourself. He analyzes your body language, noticing how stiff your shoulders have become. You brush off the discomfort, focusing on stirring the Amortentia.

“Let’s finish the assignment for the week and call it a night, hm?”

He nods in agreement and leans over, not shocked in the slightest when he smells the citrus of your shampoo. He tells you the same scents as the week before, grasping at the hope that maybe you’ll smell something different.

But just like the week prior, you barely catch a whiff of the potion before you hum.

“Iris and jasmine.”

Jaehyun wishes someone would pierce his heart with the Sword of Gryffindor.

—

Jihyo furrows her eyebrows when she steps onto the field, registering the sight of her star player sulking on his broom, legs kicking the air like a small toddler having a tantrum.

She walks over to Johnny and gestures at Jaehyun’s floating figure.

“Pussy related?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Jihyo grimaces. She loves Jaehyun, she really does, but she can’t afford to have a heartbroken teenager on her team right now. The Quidditch Cup is just inches away from her fingers and if she wants to play the sport professionally after Hogwarts, she needs Jaehyun to be at the top of his game.

She takes her broom up to his brooding form. “Hey, champ. How’s it hanging?”

“Maybe I can die and reincarnate into who she wants me to be. Do you think there’s a spell for that?”

His eyes look sunken in. Jihyo sighs, placing a hand on his shoulder for comfort.

“Why don’t you take practice off today? I have no doubt you’ll bring your all to the finals but I need you to be in the right state of mind. Go fix your pussy problem and come back when you’re ready.”

Jaehyun leaves Quidditch practice with his tail tucked between his legs. He changes in the locker room, swapping out his uniform for his regular clothes, and heads back to the castle.

He thinks about you the whole way, wondering how he should move on. Should he play his part as a miserable bystander and watch you marry Yuta? It’s been your fate since before you were born, and who is he to come in and change it anyways?

His swirling thoughts are interrupted by a high-pitched giggle. Just as he turns the corner down the hallway leading to the Gryffindor dorms, he pauses when he catches a glimpse at the current thorn in his side.

Yuta has Seo Soojin cornered against a wall, lips brushing against her ear as his hand roughly grips her thigh to hook it around his hip. She’s laughing at whatever he says, fingers bunched up at his shoulders. Jaehyun stills when Yuta leans forward and captures her mouth with his. The two pay no mind that they are clearly in a hallway and can get caught at any time, whether it be by a classmate or teacher.

The only part that Jaehyun can focus on is the delirious rage taking over him.

How dare Yuta do this to you! He has the opportunity to be with you, to give you all the love that Jaehyun so desperately wants, yet he’s here making out with another girl.

His feet act before his mind does. His brain doesn’t completely register what he’s doing as he breezes past Yuta and Soojin, heading for the Great Hall with blazing fury. His eyes spot you as soon as the doors fling open, chatting with some of your friends at the Slytherin table.

You’re startled when you hear his voice behind you.

“Can I talk to you?”

The table falls silent at the sight of the Gryffindor prince confronting the Slytherin princess. Your classmates throw you confused glances and you offer them a smile of assurance in return. You excuse yourself and follow Jaehyun outside, where he pulls you to a nearby corner.

“Go out with me,” he starts, his body inches from yours. “This weekend at Hogsmeade. We can get sweets before it gets colder and have a few Butterbeers together.”

You blink at him, silent for a few moments before you carefully respond.

“Jae, I’m flattered by all means. You’re such a sweet guy but you know Yuta and I-“

“I just saw him making out with Soojin!”

You don’t look phased at all by the outburst. “Soojin and him are very close partners,” you say calmly. “We have a mutual understanding.”

He frowns. How could you have no reaction to your future husband kissing someone else?

You read the bewilderment on his face. “I told you Yuta’s my best friend. We’ve never had romantic feelings for one another. He’s free to be with as many people as he wants before we marry, it’s not an issue with me.”

“But what about you?”

Rejecting Jaehyun is like kicking a sick puppy. He was so unbelievably cute and hot at the same time, and you would be dumb not to notice how he stares at you like you invented magic.

However, you know how this story will tragically end and you don’t want Jaehyun to experience that fate.

“Jae, no matter what, I’m still marrying Yuta after leaving. The amount of flings he or I have is inconsequential, we’re going to end up together anyways. Nevertheless, the people who develop feelings for us will get hurt along the way. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

He feels more vulnerable than he ever has before, but he pushes through the discomfort of your possible dismissal.

“I don’t care if I get hurt. I mean, fuck it, my heart already broke in half when I found out you were engaged,” he sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “I just want one day with you. It’s completely selfish but I want to spend time with you — no assignment, no Quidditch, no Yuta. I know it’s not going to change anything but is it so pathetic of me to act on my desire before your fate is officially sealed?”

Your heart swells. You’ve never had anyone fight for you like this before. Normally, you had to witness a handful of girls bawl their eyes out after Yuta ends their situationship. You’ve always avoided being in the spot you’re in now, with someone’s heart in your hands and their hopes and dreams contingent on yours.

You exhale. “Fine, just one day. Pick me up at the Slytherin dorms on Saturday.”

—

You slowly talk yourself down when Saturday rolls around. As eager as you are, you couldn’t show it to Jaehyun. You didn’t want him to keep hanging on to this last shred of hope that you would end up together.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, wondering if you look too dressed up for a day in Hogsmeade. An emerald green dress hugs your figure — a present from Yuta’s parents three years ago. You’ve grown a little since receiving it, so now the hem barely covers your thighs.

You give yourself a twirl, hoping it’s not too short for Jaehyun’s liking.

“Why are you taking so long? I’ve been waiting downstairs forever.”

You turn at the sound of the familiar voice and find Yuta standing at your doorway, eyebrows raised at the sight of you.

“Woah, you look nice. Feeling good today?” He asks.

“I actually promised to go to Hogsmeade with a friend today,” you say casually, hoping Yuta doesn’t prod too much. “Sorry I forgot to tell you.”

“Do I know this friend?”

“No, he’s in Gryffindor. I know you’re a Slytherin only club.”

“Oh, so it’s a he?”

You sigh. “It’s just a Hogsmeade outing, Yuta. You have nothing to worry about.”

He hums noncommittally and you know it’s his way of saying that this was a bad idea. Yuta’s possessive over you, but only because he knows if your lives do not go the way your parents have planned it, you both would be completely disowned from your families.

He takes a seat on your bed and gives you a look. “I heard Jeong Jaehyun’s been asking around about you.”

You shrug. “We’re partners in Potions.”

He doesn’t buy your half-assed explanation and you know it. As much as you could see right through Yuta, he could see right through you.

“I’ve never had an issue with Soojin,” you point out, hoping to end his line of questioning.

“Yes, and that’s because I’ve always drawn clear boundaries with her. She knows we’re a temporary item. Can you say the same for Jaehyun?”

“Yuta,” you beg, throwing him a defeated glance. “Please drop this.”

He purses his lips, pausing for a few moments before nodding. He leaves you to finish getting ready, mind swirling with a million thoughts. Since he’s known you, you’ve never given him a reason to believe you’re unhappy with your engagement. Raised traditionally, you were the type to never question what your parents decided for you. Yuta was always the more rebellious one in your relationship and you never cared what he did.

Although sometimes, Yuta wishes that you would show a tiny ounce of concern.

When he steps out of the Slytherin common room, he locks eyes with none other than Jeong Jaehyun. The Gryffindor freezes at the sight of him and Yuta smirks.

“She’s almost finished, if you’ve been waiting long,” Yuta says, eyes testing Jaehyun’s.

The Gryffindor smiles but Yuta can tell it’s forced. “That’s fine, I don’t mind being out here.”

Yuta nods. “You know, we usually go to Hogsmeade together. Every weekend we can.”

“Oh?” Jaehyun swallows, intimidated by Yuta’s glare. “I didn’t know. We’re partners in Potions so I just wanted to spend some time together outside of the classroom.”

“I’m sure you do,” Yuta smiles knowingly, sending a shiver down Jaehyun’s spine. “I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

Jaehyun watches Yuta’s figure disappear down the hallway, and he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Ready to go?”

He nearly jumps five feet in the air when you approach him. You giggle into your hand at the sight of him looking so startled.

“What’s wrong? See a ghost down in the Slytherin dungeons?” You tease, eyes sparkling.

Jaehyun straightens himself before scoffing. “No, I just got so tired waiting out here for you.”

You smile at his flustered state and bump his hip with yours. “Let’s get going then. Wouldn’t want Gryffindor’s star player to die from waiting too long.”

He mutters quietly to himself when you start walking.

“If only you knew.”

The trek to Hogsmeade is filled with tentative smiles and shy gazes. Jaehyun has been stressing out all week on how to make this trip a life changing one for you. He somehow has to convince you that being chained to Yuta for the rest of your life is a living nightmare, and that you should be with Jaehyun instead.

The task feels too demanding, so he starts off simple.

“You look really pretty.”

You flush at the compliment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He grins, dimples peeking out. You observe as he shrugs off his jacket in favor of placing it on your shoulders to protect you from the incoming wind. A few Hufflepuff girls pass, whispering to one another. You catch the tail-end of their questioning.

“Did they break off their engagement?”

“That’s impossible, there’s no way their parents would allow it.”

Jaehyun hears their gossip as well, not hesitating to throw them a heated glare. They scurry away from the both of you. You soothe him by setting your hand on his upper arm.

“It’s okay, Jae. Don’t worry about them.”

You make your way to Honeydukes, which is bustling with students trying to buy holiday gifts for their friends and family. You’re scanning the shelves of Chocolate Frogs when you feel Jaehyun’s presence inch closer to your back. A hand suddenly slinks around your waist, and you jolt at the contact.

“Sorry,” Jaehyun’s apology is spoken quietly in your ear. You shudder at the sudden proximity. “There’s so many people here.”

Although that may be true, you know the nearest person to you is at least six feet away, giving Jaehyun plenty of space. You indulge his lie, however, mainly for your own personal interest.

“That’s okay,” you reply quietly. “I don’t mind.”

The sexual tension from that point on increases tenfold. You’ve never been a very intimate person, especially considering you know where you’ll be at the end of your Hogwarts journey. There have been a few affairs here and there, but never someone you find yourself captivated by.

And fuck it if Jaehyun isn’t only captivating, but causes your panties to grow wetter and wetter in the winter breeze.

He somehow finds a reason to always be near you — “there’s so many people around,” “want to make sure you don’t trip and fall,” “think I saw some guy staring at your legs too long,” — you name it. You entertain him every single time, allowing his hand to secure its place on your hip and the warmth of his chest to be pressed against your back. You can’t recall what you even bought at Honeydukes or Zonko’s because Jaehyun’s thumb stroking your collarbone sent you into a frenzy.

As he escorts you into the Three Broomsticks, he mumbles a comment that nearly makes you moan. Out loud.

“Your dress would look even better if it was in red, don’t you think?”

You’d like to say you’ve never developed an affinity for the Slytherin house colors, but by your second year, your wardrobe had been filled with varying shades of green. The thought of donning red just for Jaehyun supplied your body with a warmth that was unexpected during this time of year.

He orders two Butterbeers, smirking the whole way while throwing side glances at you.

He planned to make this an incredibly difficult trip for you.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asks when the server leaves.

You’re seated in one of the booths in the corner, away from prying eyes. You nod at him, heart accelerating when he takes the opportunity to scoot closer to you until your thigh is touching his.

“This marriage contract — tell me what it entails.”

“Well, the terms are pretty simple. After graduating, Yuta and I will have a traditional wedding for friends and family to witness. We vow to spend the rest of our lives together in the hopes of producing children who also carry magical blood. Its purpose is to hopefully extend our bloodline for generations to come.”

The explanation of your relationship with Yuta has been memorized by now, but Jaehyun doesn’t look like he’s appeased by your answer.

“And what about those flings you were referring to? You said you have a mutual understanding of Yuta and Soojin. What about when it comes to you?”

You stutter. “W-What do you mean?”

He leans closer, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. His hand rests on your inner thigh, and you fear he’ll find evidence of your arousal dripping on the hardwood.

“If you were to have a little fun for yourself, would Yuta mutually understand? Even if it’s, per se, done in the public eye?”

You’re hyper aware of his fingers moving higher and higher. You’re about to beg for him to touch you when two glasses of Butterbeer slam down on the table, causing you to nearly jump out of your seat.

Your waitress, Suyeon, seems unfazed by your blatant public indecency.

“Two Butterbeers for the table,” she recites in a bored tone before quickly leaving.

You grab the handle of the glass and down your Butterbeer in one go. You wipe the remnants of the drink from the corner of your lips and glance over at Jaehyun, who is wearing an amused expression.

“That thirsty?”

“A little,” you reply nervously. You suddenly feel like your body is not your own, because there’s no way you’re dripping in a public setting right now.

Jaehyun doesn’t skip a beat, pushing your drink aside and cupping the back of your neck, pulling you to him. You gasp when you’re merely inches away from his face. You stare at each other for a good amount of time before you close the gap, sealing your mouth with his.

The kiss is hungry, and you feel like a rabid animal Jaehyun needs to tame. Your hand grabs his and forcefully moves it to cup your clothed cunt. He groans into your mouth, pulling away briefly to cast a silencing charm on your booth.

“You can be as loud as you want, but remember there’s people watching,” he murmurs, and your eyes dart around the pub.

There are some students gathered but it’s not as full as it usually is during this time. Most people aren’t even paying attention to the two of you secluded in your corner. However, at any point, you know they could look over and see Jaehyun fingering you in public.

And at a school sponsored outing, no less.

You throw all your dignity out the window regardless. “I’ll be good,” you promise breathily to him. “Just touch me, please.”

His fingers curl at the fabric of your underwear and you whine loudly, gripping the end of the table like it’s going to save you. His head is angled purposefully to make it seem like he’s just whispering in your ear to any onlooker, attempting to shield what he’s doing to you under the table. You try your best to control your facial expressions so that you don’t end up on some wizarding porn site.

He pushes your panties aside to play with your folds and you hear him chuckle.

“So wet already? I’ve barely even touched you.”

When two fingers slide inside your cunt, you whimper when you hear the squelch, leaking onto his palm. He curses to himself, stretching his digits as far as they can go in your tiny pussy.

“You’re making it so hard for me not to fuck you senseless right now.”

His confessions are driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. You’re thankful he cast a silencing charm because you could hear the gush of your pussy every time his fingers push in and out of your messy hole.

You don’t know if it’s because of Jaehyun or the fact that you’re in a public area or a combination of both, but this climax feels a lot different than the ones you’re used to. He picks up on the signs of your impending orgasm and swiftly casts a Disillusionment charm, temporarily making you both invisible.

“Wait-“ you say, gasping for breath. “I feel weird, Jae. This is different.”

“It’s okay,” he assures you, adding another finger for good measure. “I’m right here, just let go, baby.”

His thumb circling your clit is what drives you over the edge. You squirt everywhere, your orgasm painting the table and the floor. He groans into your ear, moving his fingers faster and faster while you ride out your high.

You can barely register the sweet nothings he continues to mumble.

“Such a good pussy for me. All mine. So fucking pretty when you squirt for me, baby. And doing it in public? Filthy girl.”

You push him away when the overstimulation becomes too much. Your chest is heaving and you feel completely spent, trying to catch your breath.

“I’m going to get some towels and clean us up before the spell wears off,” he says to you, even though you barely comprehend it. “Stay here, baby.”

You come to when Jaehyun returns with a handful of towels, wiping the inside of your thighs and clearing the table. The spell wears off shortly after, and you do your best to make yourself appear presentable and not like you just got finger fucked at the Three Broomsticks.

When Jaehyun finishes cleaning up, he brings your mouth to his again. You could stay like this for hours with him, and you’re about to ask him if you can suck him off before the sound of slow clapping interrupts you.

You yelp when you hear it, disconnecting yourself from Jaehyun.

Yuta stands in front of the both of you, eyes narrowed. “Get up,” he demands. “We’re heading back to the castle.”

Your lips twist angrily. “You have no right-“

“Don’t even start with that,” he hisses, slamming one hand on the table. “I can’t believe what you just did in front of everyone.”

You rise to your feet so that you’re on the same level as him. “Are you kidding me?” You say in frustration. “You make out with Soojin on the daily!”

“But I’ve never finger fucked her in a pub! Especially not when I know my father’s friends frequent the area.”

You ball your hands at your side, knowing he’s won the logical part of this argument. He throws you another stern look before leaving, expecting you to follow shortly.

You step over to Jaehyun, who was watching your argument unfold with a defeated expression. You press your lips to his again and sigh.

“Meet me in the library tomorrow night, okay? I’m sorry about him.”

He nods in understanding and you smile at him, giving him one last kiss before you depart. Once you encounter Yuta outside, he rolls his eyes at you and shoves a pair of gloves to your chest to keep your hands warm.

You both angrily stomp together back to the castle.

“You had no right.”

He scoffs. “I had no right? You were the one exposing yourself in front of almost all of Hogwarts. You’re lucky I was there to shoo off any unwanted glances.”

“Yes, I’m so lucky you came in and stopped me from having a good time,” you hiss, rage fueling at the pit of your stomach.

“You know if you were caught we would have our heads served on a silver platter to them,” he bites back at you, and you know he’s alluding to the wrath of your parents. “And I’m trying to save you from breaking that poor guy’s heart.”

You shake your head. “I already told Jaehyun about us. He knows it won’t go anywhere.”

“Do you think that will actually stop him? He was throwing fucking heart eyes at you whenever you weren’t looking.” He turns and stops you when you’re almost back at the Hogwarts entrance. “Listen, you know I’m not trying to be an asshole. With all things considered, we have to marry next summer even though the both of us don’t particularly want to. Developing feelings for him is only going to make it harder when we leave.”

You ignore the tears swelling in your eyes, burning from the harsh temperature.

“I told you that he knows. It’s not going anywhere.”

He doesn’t buy your reasoning and you both know it.

“You better hope it’s not. For both of our sakes.”

—

Jaehyun can feel your hands roaming the expanse of his body. He hears your voice whispering in his ear, teasing him.

“Want to suck you dry.” You’re smiling, lips tracing the shell of his ear. Your fingers are dancing on his chest, slowly moving downwards. “Maybe I’ll make a show for everyone. Make them see I’m yours.”

“Even Yuta?” He groans, unable to stop himself from asking.

“Especially Yuta.”

Your hand grips the base of his cock, pumping him slowly. Your thumb teases the tip and you squeeze him gently. He hisses, hips thrusting upwards in an attempt to get you to move faster.

You laugh and the melody sounds like bliss.

“Be patient, silly.”

Jaehyun jolts out of his sleep when a pillow lands square in his face. It has to be past midnight since his room is still completely dark. Johnny hovers over his bed, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Dude, either cast a silencing charm or have those dreams when we’re not all in the room with you.”

Jaehyun’s ears redden and Johnny slowly crawls back into his own bed, turning on his side and falling back to sleep. Jaehyun grabs his wand and quickly draws the curtains of his four poster bed, casting a silencing charm like Johnny advised. His hands wander to the band of his sweatpants, and he’s embarrassed to admit he’s already rock hard just from a vision of you.

He wraps a hand around himself, closing his eyes and imagining you on your knees, waiting for him. You’re wrapped in Gryffindor red as his present, the lace hugging your body in all the right places. You smell exactly like his Amortentia potion while your lips wrap slowly around his cock. Jaehyun guides you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and easing you down until his tip hits the back of your throat. He moans louder at the thought, moving his hand faster up and down his length. He wonders what you’ll look like when he cums — if your mouth will be wide open, waiting for his release, or if you’ll close your eyes, allowing him to paint your face as he pleases.

It’s the thought of you licking him clean that drives him over the edge. His eyes roll back as ropes of white cover his stomach, and he rides his high until the oversensitivity becomes too much.

As he regains his breath, the conscious part of him starts to nag in his ear. He shuts his eyes tightly, pushing away the picture of you in white, walking down to the end of an aisle to meet Yuta.

—

“I thought you were meeting the Slytherin queen?”

Jaehyun sighs, pushing the palm of his hands against his eyes. “I can’t. I saw her at the table and-“

A few moments pass in silence and Johnny raises an eyebrow.

“And?”

“And I wanted to bend her over it.”

Johnny whistles. “It’s getting real bad for you, huh?”

“Johnny, I can’t keep doing this.”

He’s not looking, but he knows Johnny’s rolling his eyes. “Listen, horndog. Just go over there, have a nice talk with her, and then go back to bed and beat it to your heart’s desire.”

Jaehyun approaches you carefully. You’re sitting at a table near the back of the library, reading over the next assignment for your History of Magic class. He takes a deep breath before pulling out the chair across from you and taking a seat.

“Hi,” you brighten up when you see him, closing your History of Magic textbook and pushing it to the side.

“Hey,” he says, the corner of his lips turning up at the sight of your smile.

He’s down so bad for you.

“Sorry about yesterday,” you apologize. “I didn’t know Yuta would be there.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, not detailing how he went back to his dorm that night and had wet dreams about you sucking him off. “He was right, we should have been more careful.”

You nod, chewing on your lower lip nervously. Jaehyun imagines slipping his thumb between your lips, watching as you wrap your mouth around it while innocently staring up at him. He wonders how messy you would be with drool pooling out of your mouth and teary eyes begging for him to go deeper.

“Jae?”

He shakes himself out of his trance and you giggle to yourself.

“We can’t. Not here. They put a sex ban charm on the library after the incident last year, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” he says sheepishly, embarrassed to be caught by you.

Last year, two students got a little handsy against one of the shelves and traumatized a bunch of first year students trying to locate a book for their first Charms class. Since then, any student who tries anything beyond kissing in the library is immediately sentenced to a week of cleaning up the Potions classroom.

“I wasn’t trying to initiate anything,” he promises. “Sometimes, I just can’t control myself when I’m with you.”

You flush, smiling to yourself at his honesty.

“Well, it’s been another week so we should check on our Amortentia assignment. I think the Potions room is empty by this time of night.”

That’s how you end up with Jaehyun’s cock in your mouth as he’s propped up against one of the Potions tables, hand tangled in your hair. He moans loudly when you take him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Shit, baby. You have no idea how many times I dreamt of seeing you like this.”

Jaehyun’s definitely bigger than you’re used to, but the thought of making him unravel encourages you to give him the best head of his life. Your hands find purchase on his thighs and you look up at him, catching his dark gaze.

You tap his thigh twice to give him the go ahead and he takes a firmer grip on your head before violently thrusting into your mouth. You try your best to control your gag reflex, the room being filled with garbled choking and Jaehyun’s continuous moans.

“So fucking messy,” he hisses at you. He turns even more feral when he realizes you’re fingering yourself while sucking his cock, hands disappearing underneath your skirt. “Fuck, baby. Are you playing with your cunt while you suck me off, hm? Too turned on from me using your mouth?”

You whine around him and he pulls out with a loud pop, watching you struggle to collect the drool dripping from your lips. His arms hoist you up and before you know it, his lips are on yours, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. It’s a heavy mix of tongues and moans, and he even pulls away from you just to spit in your mouth.

He pushes your back against one of the tables and grips your ankles, folding your knees to your chest. He doesn’t bother stripping you of your underwear, simply pushing it to the side and running his tip through your folds.

“Please,” you beg, voice heady and desperate. You actually think you might pass out if Jaehyun doesn’t fuck you right now.

He leans down to kiss you again, hands digging into your hips. “I’ll take care of you, baby. No need to worry. This pussy has been crying for me since yesterday, hm?”

You nod, fat tears starting to roll down your face. You can’t imagine how fucked out you look right now — folded in half and sobbing when Jaehyun’s dick isn’t even inside of you yet.

The stretch of him nearly makes you delirious. He takes his time pressing inside of you until he bottoms out, moaning into your neck when he’s in all the way.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers, and you hear the familiar squelch of your pussy welcoming his cock. “It’s so easy for me to slide in, baby.”

Eyes rolled to the back of your head, you have zero thoughts swirling in your mind at this current moment. You never knew sex could be so mind numbing but your body is completely drunk on Jaehyun. He looks breathtaking above you, pressing his body weight to yours so he can take advantage of the best angle to drill into you.

His hands frantically paw at your buttoned up uniform until he rips open your top, exposing your lacy black bra. He’s quick to pull it down, mouth attaching to your right breast.

Lewd sounds fill the air of the classroom as his balls slap against your cunt with every thrust. One hand darts down to thumb at your clit and you moan even louder.

“Can you squirt again for me, baby?” He murmurs, tongue flicking your nipple. “Want to see you make a mess.”

“I d-didn’t even k-know I could,” you whimper. “That w-was my first t-time.”

“Yeah?” He growls and rails into you faster. “No one’s ever made you feel as good as me, isn’t that right?”

You nod, more tears starting to drift down your face. Pleasure fills you until you can’t possibly take any more of it.

“Jae, I’m gonna-“

“Go ahead, baby. I’m right here.”

Your release coats his upper half and he takes his cock out to flick it against your folds, spraying your orgasm across the floor. Your thighs are trembling, throat dry from your cries. He shushes you, pressing kisses to the side of your face as you come down from your high.

“J-Jae, cum inside,” you mumble, pushing back the strands of hair covering his face.

His head darts up so fast that you’re surprised he doesn’t get whiplash.

“We didn’t cast a contraceptive charm.”

You hum, your orgasm still singing in your veins. “That’s okay, I don’t mind.”

Jaehyun swallows, pushing out of the haze of being pussydrunk to try and form a coherent thought.

“We can’t- It’s too dangerous.”

You’ll probably regret saying this later but you bring him closer to you, sucking at the shell of his ear and whispering quietly.

“They won’t let me marry Yuta if I’m pregnant with your child, isn’t that right?”

That’s all he needs to shove his cock back inside your warm cunt. “Fucking filthy girl. Gonna let me breed you? Fill your dirty pussy until it’s leaking with my cum?”

“Ungh, ungh, ungh,” you blubber at the force of his thrusts. Your second climax creeps up on you, spurred on by the thought of carrying Jaehyun’s baby.

Ropes of his cum fill you just as you come undone. Jaehyun grunts and pushes into you as deep as possible, painting your walls white.

You both lay in a heap of limbs on the Potions table, completely spent from your orgasms.

“Do you realize what we just did?” He asks when he catches his breath.

You nod, running your fingers through his hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

He gently kisses you. “We need to finish brewing our Amortentia batch.”

You laugh. “Your cum is literally dripping down my legs and you want to finish our homework?”

He smiles. “I need to see something.”

You clean yourselves up as best as you can before getting to work. You fall into a peaceful harmony adding the ingredients together, and you find your notebook once the potion is complete.

“Raspberries and parchment.”

Now that you know Jaehyun a little better, you raise an eyebrow at him. He chuckles at your questioning look.

“I was waiting for you to realize I was making up shit,” he says. He circles his arms around you, breathing in your scent. He confesses to you calmly, lips ghosting the crown of your head. “I smell the citrus of your shampoo that drives me crazy. I smell the chocolate chip cookies you and Jihyo make every Valentine’s Day. I smell the peppermint flowers you mix every time we brew this potion.”

You giggle. “How do you know about all of that?”

“I’ve dreamed of you for years, you don’t think I know the scent of your shampoo?” He chuckles. “Or how you would give me a cookie every year on my birthday, Valentine’s Day? Every time you handed it to me, I always tried to get the courage to build a conversation with you.”

You just shake your head with a grin. He patiently waits for you to lean over the cauldron, holding his breath in anticipation.

Your eyes twinkle. “It smells different.”

“Yeah?” He hums, burying his face in your shoulder. “What does it smell like?”

“Like the Quidditch pitch after a Gryffindor win,” you reply with a laugh. “The scent of amber after you shower. The cinnamon you like to put in your hot chocolate. It smells just like you.”

You squeal when he pounces on you again, kissing you with as much love and adoration that he can express.

—

A week before the holidays roll around, you gather enough courage to finally have the conversation you’ve been dreading with Yuta.

It seems like he already knows what you’re going to ask when you approach him in the Slytherin common room. He’s resting on one of the dark leather couches as Soojin sits on his lap, playing with his hair while giggling.

“Soojin, could you give me and Yuta a moment?”

You’ve never actually spoken to Soojin in all the years she’s been with Yuta, so she’s shocked to hear you addressing her formally. She offers you a timid nod before disappearing up the stairs.

Yuta has a dejected look on his face, wringing his hands around uncomfortably.

“Don’t ruin this for us,” he sighs, staring at you. “Don’t ruin this for some guy you met a month ago.”

Your eyes well up with tears. “Can you be my best friend for a second, please? Not my fiancé, not the Slytherin king. Just my best friend.”

He pauses, and you swear you could hear a pin drop from the tension. He takes a glance around the room, where a few first years are studying together and some older students are trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“Everyone out. Now.”

The room is sent into a frenzy at Yuta’s stern tone, with the first years clumsily gathering their things and the older students attempting to act like they weren’t listening in. It isn’t long before it’s just the two of you, and you take a seat next to him.

“I like him, Yuta,” you admit, nails digging into the palms of your hands. “I know you’re going to say I told you so but I really like him.”

“Don’t do that,” he scolds, ripping your hands apart so that you stop injuring yourself. It was always a bad habit he tried to get you to break. He exhales before standing, starting to pace in front of you.

Yuta had seen you hanging with the Gryffindor star more lately as Jaehyun walked you to and from classes, and you both would disappear into empty classrooms almost every chance you got. He tried to brush it off to the best of his ability, but he knew he was losing you from the moment he caught you in Hogsmeade. And seeing you now, teary-eyed in front of him, confirms his suspicions.

“We’ll get shunned. Burned from the family tree,” he says, making you cry even more.

“I know, I know,” you whisper, trying to hide the croak in your voice. “Maybe they’ll let you marry Soojin — her bloodline is strong and she comes from generations of Slytherins.”

“And what about you? What do you think they’ll do to you when they find out you plan to run away with a Gryffindor?”

You swallow. “They will strip me of my birthright. I will no longer be allowed to attend any family dinners or be associated with the household name, and I’ll have to make due on my own in terms of fortune and stability. I know the protocol, Yuta.”

“And you think I’ll just let that happen to you? That I’ll leave you to die on your own when you don’t even know if there’s a future with Jaehyun?”

You fidget around in your seat, growing even more afraid to confess to Yuta about your tether to Jaehyun.

“I’ve- um, I’ve let Jae release in me multiple times now. I cast the childbearing charm every day and there’s no baby yet, but we’re hoping it will happen to us soon.”

You look up to see his reaction, and you’ve never seen him more heartbroken.

“So that’s it, then? You’ve already made the decision without me?”

“Yuta,” you plead, rising to your feet and gripping his hands. “Even if we did get married and followed everything according to plan, I don’t think I could put our children through this. I can’t stand to see them accept the same fate we did and carry it on to our grandchildren. Could you?”

He shakes his head. “Our morals are not what’s important. What’s important is the safety of the bloodline and ensuring that the future of wizardry-“

“You and I both know you don’t believe in any of that shit,” you interrupt his useless speech. “I see the way you look at Soojin. I know you won’t admit it to me but I can tell you want a different future too. Help me break this ridiculous curse together.”

He rests his forehead on yours and sighs, pulling you into his arms. You wrap your hands around his middle and cry into his shoulder.

“You know I’ll protect you no matter what it takes,” he hums, stroking your back softly. “If you want to be with him, I’m not going to stop you.”

You sniffle and hug him tighter. The pair of you stand there for a while, enjoying each other’s presence. It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to have a heart-to-heart with Yuta, and it reminds you of why you trust him.

He breaks the silence first.

“I think I know a way to make sure you don’t lose everything.”

You pull away from him, tilting your head in confusion.

“How?”

“How fast can you get pregnant?”

—

Jihyo has a huge smirk on her face when Jaehyun finally returns to Quidditch practice. He narrows his eyes at her, expecting her to be completely on edge with the Quidditch Cup finals tomorrow.

“What’s with the look?”

She smiles from ear to ear, twirling her broom in her hand like a ditzy schoolgirl.

“A little birdie told me who you’ve been so pussydrunk for.”

His head snaps to the side. “Johnny!”

The man to blame throws his hands up in the air and claims his innocence.

“Look at you, sly dog!” Jihyo giggles. “Who knew you had the hots for the Slytherin queen?”

“Can we just start practice?”

She gives him one last hip bump before calling a huddle. “My gorgeous team, I first want to tell you how proud I am of you. I’ve seen firsthand how hard each and every one of you have worked this year, despite certain personal obstacles.” Jaehyun rolls his eyes when she throws him a wink. “But our fight is not finished! The ultimate battle is against us this weekend, but I have no doubt we’ll beat all odds. So let’s give everything into this practice and pretend there are hundreds of screaming fans in those seats, waiting for you to carry us to victory! And for my lovely seventh years, don’t forget that recruiters will actually be in those stands on game day. This is our last chance to prove that we will be the greatest Quidditch players of our generation! Let’s fucking go!”

With Jihyo’s hurrah, the Gryffindor team launches into one of the most intense practice games they’ve had all year. Jaehyun finally feels like himself again, especially after you let him eat you out right before he left. His body is tingling with excitement, and it’s only thirty minutes into practice when he spots the Snitch.

He manages to catch it in a new record time for him, thrusting his balled fist in the air to signal victory. The rest of the team laughs as they descend to the ground, joining together for one more hug.

“Now, I want everyone to get a good night’s sleep tonight. Tomorrow, we will take home the victory for Gryffindor!”

Jaehyun immediately runs to find you after practice, kissing you as soon as he locates you in the Potions room. You squeak when he suddenly grabs you, embracing you in his arms.

“J-Jae-“ you try to say while he mouths at your neck. Your eyes widen when he shifts down to his knees, pulling up your skirt. “Jae, you just ate me out two hours ago.”

“Mmm, it’s been too long, baby.”

You smile and run your fingers through his tousled locks. “I need to tell you something,” you murmur, watching him pull your panties down to your ankles.

He hums and licks a stripe up your cunt, causing you to moan. You can tell he’s barely listening to you, tongue slurping at your folds.

“Jaehyun,” you say his name again, hoping it will garner some sort of attention. “I told Yuta about us.”

That makes him pause. He pulls his head out from under your skirt.

“And?”

“He has some sort of plan to help us,” you tell him, thumb swiping the corner of his lips that’s covered in your juices.

Since Jaehyun wants to actually listen to you now, he replaces his tongue with his fingers, easily sliding two into your cunt with no warning. You whine and throw your head back, his dark gaze drinking up your moans.

“What’s he going to do?”

You struggle to form a coherent sentence when his fingers curl inside of you. “I-I don’t k-know,” you stutter. “He just said I need to get pregnant.”

His fingers quickly withdraw from your pussy and you’re flipped around, hands landing on one of the desks to catch yourself. You hear the metal clink of his belt buckle and you cry when he lines himself up to your entrance, slowly pushing in.

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

“You didn’t give me a chance!”

He fucks you hard and rough, pulling at the strands of your hair until your scalp is burning. Your thighs ache from the force of his thrusts while Jaehyun goes wild at the sight of your creamy pussy forming a base around his cock. Your poor little cunt is begging for a break since he literally gave you three orgasms before he went to Quidditch practice.

He releases deep inside your pussy, his thick cum filling your womb.

“Always milk me dry, baby,” he says, hands moving to massage your hips.

You blink twice when you realize he’s still hard inside of you.

“Jae, those recruits will be at the Quidditch tournament tomorrow. You have to get a good night’s sleep.”

“Just a few more rounds and I’ll go to bed, baby. I promise.”

True to his word, he pounds you for another few hours before finally pulling out. You’re completely plugged full of his cum, some of it dripping out as soon as his cock leaves your pussy.

You stand with shaky legs and he pulls you in for a gentle kiss.

“Love you,” he whispers.

Jaehyun told you he loves you pretty quickly after you first got together. You insisted on him taking his time to think about it, unsure if he actually loved you or if he was just seeing you through rose-colored glasses.

Since then, he’s told you he loves you every single day. He hopes one day you’ll start believing him.

“You should get some rest. I’ll clean myself up, but you need to be prepared for tomorrow or else Jihyo will have your head.”

“Don’t be silly,” he chastises. “I’ll clean you up. Why don’t you come back with me to the Gryffindor dorms? I’ll sneak you in.”

You roll your eyes. “You just want to take me back there so we can go another round.”

He pouts. “Maybe two.”

“Jaehyun.”

“Fine,” he sighs like he’s been assigned the worst task in the world. “Let me clean you up and I’ll go to bed. One last thing though.”

He drags you to the cauldron, which is still filled with the latest Amortentia batch.

“What do you smell, baby?”

You laugh and kiss his cheek. “You know I smell you.”

He grins. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

—

You’re shaking on the morning of the Quidditch Cup tournament.

Since you started sleeping with Jaehyun, you’ve been casting a childbearing charm every morning to see if there are any signs of you being pregnant. Every time, the charm has shown you a red light over your stomach to signal that you are not with child.

This is the first day the red light has shifted to a warm orange color.

You gasp when you see it. The orange hue displays a little dot the size of a tiny bean, barely kicking in your stomach.

You stand in front of the mirror for several minutes, unable to take your eyes off of this new sign of life.

Your baby. Jaehyun’s baby.

Once you come to your senses, you hastily throw on one of Jaehyun’s spare Gryffindor jerseys and rush downstairs. You have a one track mind as you run to the Quidditch pitch, not stopping until you see the locker rooms in sight.

Jihyo is the first one to spot you, grabbing hold of your shoulders just as you’re about to enter.

“Woah, tiger! What’s got you in such a hurry?” Her mouth twists into a smirk. “In a rush to see Jaehyun?”

You huff. “I’m surprised you’re not shitting bricks right now.”

“Trust me, I am,” she sighs. “But if I think about it too much, I’ll combust in the middle of the field.”

“You’re going to do great,” you assure, embracing her. “Greatest captain Gryffindor’s ever seen.”

She exhales again as she hugs you. “I sure hope so.” You pull away and she’s back to wearing a smirk. “Now you wish our star player good luck. I’ll clear the room for you scoundrels.”

“You’re a menace.”

She does, in fact, scream at everyone to leave so that you can speak to Jaehyun. You find him in the back of the room near the showers, muttering to himself quietly.

“You got this. Just go out there and show them why you deserve to be on this team.”

You giggle into the palm of your hand. “Do you give this pep talk to yourself before every game?”

He spins around at the sound of your voice, lighting up like a Christmas tree at the sight of you. He hurries over to pull you into his arms, smacking your cheek with a big kiss.

“Hi, baby. Come to wish me good luck?”

You grin. “That, and a little something else.”

He nearly purrs. “We have five minutes if you want to go a round.”

“How are you always this horny?”

He whines into your neck. “You made me this way, baby.”

You carefully take his hand and ignore his confused gaze. You lift your Gryffindor jersey and gently place his hand on your stomach.

You wait for his brain to add two and two together, and when he finally realizes what you’re trying to tell him, his eyes well with tears.

“Are you-“

You nod, chewing on your lower lip nervously.

He kisses you hard, pulling you as close to him as he possibly can. “I love you,” he whispers. “Do you believe me now? I love you.”

You can’t wipe the smile off of your face if you try.

“I love you too. Now go win that game for us.”

You find Yuta in the stands shortly after you leave Jaehyun, hands intertwined with Soojin. He smiles at you when you approach, gesturing for you to take the seat next to him.

“Hi, you two,” you greet happily, ignoring the blatant stares from your classmates at the sight of you dressed head to toe in red and gold. Soojin is stunned by your acknowledgment, still getting used to you speaking to her.

“You’re a happy camper today,” he says amusedly, noting how your grin stays permanently etched on your face.

You lean closer and speak quietly. “I finished your first step of the plan.”

His head whips around, and he’s more shocked than you’ve ever seen him.

“You’re-“

You nod.

He laughs loudly, enveloping you in a hug.

“You’re insane. I literally told you to get pregnant yesterday.”

“I told you Jaehyun’s crazy.”

Soojin watches the exchange unfold, not wanting to pry into your personal business. She’s startled when Yuta turns back to her and brings her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently.

You’re delighted by watching them, thrilled to see Yuta letting his guard down.

Your focus shifts back to the game when the whistle is blown. You spot Jaehyun from his place high in the air, eyes darting around in an attempt to catch any glimpse of the Golden Snitch. You’re enamored by seeing him in his element, and you can’t deny he looks incredibly attractive from this angle.

Your mouth waters at the thought of swallowing his cock while he balances himself on his broom.

Maybe you were the horny one in this relationship.

Yuta would later tell you that the match was one of the best games he’s ever seen, with both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw battling it out to the death. You, however, were too focused on your Gryffindor Seeker floating higher than eye level. It wasn’t your fault he looked so pretty.

You eventually grow excited when you see Jaehyun finally zooming past you, eyes locked on the Snitch that was practically invisible to the students in the crowd. You scream when his hand tightly grasps it, ending the game and securing the Quidditch Cup win for Gryffindor.

You probably look like a lunatic in the stands, yelling and jumping for Jaehyun’s win despite being surrounded by the majority of Slytherin house, who were all rooting for Gryffindor to lose. A blushing Yuta even has to pull you down to save his embarrassment.

You push your way through the spectators to head to the pitch, body thrumming with excitement. Jaehyun opens his arms when he sees you, and you jump into them, almost knocking the both of you to the ground.

“My pretty girl,” he coos in your ear.

“You did amazing!” You praise him. “I’m so proud of you.”

He kisses you deeply, hands circled around your waist tightly. The sound of cheers and screams turn dull in your ears — the only thing you can focus on is the velvet of Jaehyun’s lips.

All you know is that you’re the happiest you’ve ever been, and you never want this feeling to slip away.

—

“There’s a clause in our contract. It’s been written up since the day we were born, and our parents signed it through an Unbreakable Vow. I’ve read that thing front and back since we turned eight years old. If there’s one piece I remember from that contract, it has a section that details what’s to happen if a pregnancy occurs.”

You furrow your eyebrows. Yuta looks smug from his spot across from you and Jaehyun, like a detective who has just cracked the case.

After Gryffindor’s win yesterday, Jaehyun was approached by a recruiter from the Montrose Magpies, offering him a full-time position as their new Seeker. You and Jaehyun celebrated with an extremely tiring night with lots of drinking, crying, and plenty of orgasms. Jihyo also cried with you, receiving her own commitment with the Holyhead Harpies.

When morning rolled around, you both decided to confront Yuta in the Great Hall about his big plan before you had to face your family for the holidays.

“A pregnancy clause? I don’t remember reading that.”

“That’s because it was always blacked out on your side of the contract,” Yuta points out. “Fucking sexists, of course, they never wanted you to find out.”

“Find out what, exactly?” Jaehyun asks, also deeply confused.

“The contract says in the event of you getting pregnant, all titles and birthrights would immediately be transferred to your heir. The part they never added in, though, was if the baby had to be mine.”

You straighten your spine. “So you’re saying-“

“I’m saying that your little bundle of joy just saved you from having to relinquish your household name. Under the Unbreakable Vow, whatever belongs to your parents has to pass on to your child, regardless of the baby having Nakamoto blood or not.”

You lock eyes with Jaehyun, both of you grinning widely.

“We get to be together,” he says incredulously, as if he can’t believe it himself.

“We get to be together,” you repeat, laughing to yourself out of pure joy.

“You get to be together,” Yuta smiles at the both of you. “And I’m not letting either of our parents take that away from you. You deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you, Yuta,” Jaehyun says genuinely. “We owe you our lives.”

“No need for dramatics,” Yuta waves him off. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your girlfriend standing up for herself.”

You lean over to kiss Jaehyun and Yuta scratches the back of his head awkwardly.

“Please don’t finger her in front of me again.”

You giggle and Jaehyun swings an arm over your shoulder, lips pressing against your cheek.

“Don’t worry. That view is for my eyes only now.”

The last item on your to-do list before you have to face your parents is to turn in your Amortentia assignment. You walk hand-in-hand with Jaehyun into the Potions room, ignoring the curious whispers and the one holler of encouragement from Johnny.

You stand blissfully in front of your designated cauldron, trying to push back the fact that you and Jaehyun have defiled this room more times than you can count. As the professor goes around the room to grade your projects, you clutch Jaehyun’s arm and smile up at him.

“I love you.”

He kisses your forehead, staring at you with pure devotion written in his eyes.

“I love you too, baby. Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

“Thank you for waiting for me to realize that you’re worth it.”

Your professor finally lands in front of you, beaming at the sight of your close proximity.

“Now what do we have here?” He laughs. “I guess the potion worked the best for you two. Let’s hear your progress.”

“She had a great amount of development, professor,” Jaehyun shares. “My scents have stayed the same since the first week.”

“I see,” he chuckles. “And how has that worked out?”

“You gave us a dream we didn’t think was possible,” you murmur, orbs twinkling with glee. “So it’s safe to say this assignment was a success for us.”

“That’s precisely what I wanted to hear. Well done you two, and congrats on the new coupling.”

You squeeze Jaehyun’s arm again, pulling him down once more to press your lips to his. His hand darts out to rest on your stomach, and although your child is barely the size of a pea, you hope they know that you already love them unconditionally.

A new beginning awaits you both and you’re ready to face it against all odds.

#nct smut #jaehyun #jaehyun smut

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