#like little big things i just can imagine them being so lovely together and that’s my view of them

[je0ng1nn]

SHOW ME WHO YOU ARE (Pt. 2) — Hwang In-Ho

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ PAIRING — Hwang In-Ho x fem!reader

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ INCLUDES — basic Squid game violence, little bit spice, age gap (reader is mid 20‘s In-house is late 40‘s)

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ NOTE — Seriously y‘all, i‘m so so happy that you love my works🤍 i really appreciate all the love.. waking up to over 100 of likes on just a short silly fanfic means a lot to me, i didn’t expect to grow this fast! As a thank you, here’s the second part ! (sorry that this part comes out this late, i have a big blockade 💔)

(PART 1) | (PART 3)

We just voted, it ended up being a tie, which meant there will be another one tomorrow.. I looked up at Young-il, i thought we‘ll finally be able to go home now.. but it wasn’t, i felt myself getting really uneasy. Not only because of the tie, but also because of what happened back in that room. I don’t know how to feel about the whole situation, he killed someone.. to save us? And the kiss too, it got my thinking.. does he like me the way i like him?

We all went back to our normal place to sit as a group, again i sat between Gi-hun and Young-il, like always. I didn’t plan on telling the others, i promised Young-il not to. „Young-il.. Can we talk?“ My head turned to look at him, the others were deep into their conversation.

He was a little surprised at that, but he ended up nodding. We went to my bunk, „What’s up, little one?“ It made my legs weak, he really knew how to make a girl feel good, but i had to focus on this one thing.

„Do you.. love me?“ I asked him, his cold eyes slowly turning softer. „I do, but you’re to you-” I stopped him mid sentence. I expected everything but that. My world broke together, but i couldn’t let this sit on myself, I won’t let go of a guy like this easily, especially not Young-il.

„I‘m not Young,“ I sighed out, he was about to say something but i wasn’t done yet. „I‘m 23, i‘m not a baby, i‘m an adult now. If i want to day a guy that’s twice my age, i will. You aren’t my father are you? I don’t want you to decided on my life like this, please.. Just give one chance! I really like you.“ My voice got a little louder each sentence, but i could care less, it got me angry.

I know, 23 and 49 sounds bad.. but it‘s my life, if i want to date a older guy i can, i‘m old enough, right? Young-il just chuckeled. „What’s so funny?“ I asked, my eyebrows furrow. „You. You’re funny, the way you defended yourself. It‘s cute, but also idiotic.“ His hand went to touching cheek, his thumb slowly caressing my face. „I don’t care if you‘re 30 or even 20. You‘re brave, and you don’t mind saying your opinion. I love the way you kissed me back in that room, it made me feel younger again.“

„I love you more than you could imagine.“

My heart stopped at this. My impulsive thoughts took overhand. I kissed him, not even caring if anyone saw this. Why should they care anyway? Either way, this was the best kiss ever. Full of desire and love, passionate. I let out a gasp and he took the opportunity to push his tongue in my mouth. Our tongues were fighting with each other, Young-il‘s clearly won this fight. After some seconds, we broke the kiss, panting. He leaned down to me, giving my forehead a little peck. „I can’t get enough of you, i hope you know that.“

We were about to kiss again, but suddenly the door opened, out of curiosity i looked in the direction. Players, blood everywhere on them. Player 333 looked like he showered in blood. Young-il noticed my surprised face, he looked into the same direction. „Looks like they killed some people in the bathroom, hm?“ His voice was low, he didn’t seem to like that we got carried away by this sight. He knew i probably wasn’t into anything after seeing this much blood.

And shortly after, the fighting seemed to begin again, both teams attacking each other, arguing about who started everything. Gi-hun called everyone to him from the X team, to see how much players we lost. Young-il groaned at this, i didn’t think much of it and went together with him back to our group.

G-hun started to count us. 47. The other team had 45 which meant we can go home tomorrow after the next voting. I was happy and immediately clung onto Young-il. But the euphoria didn’t last long.

Soon after, Gi-hun had a little ‚meeting‘ with a couple of X players. I sat in between Hyun-ju and Young-il, as we discussed a plan. „They‘re planning to kill us during Lights out.“ Gi-hun said, my body felt numb at that. „What do you mean?“ I asked, just to make sure he wasn’t joking. „They have 2 less than us, they have to kill atleast 3 of us to win the next voting. They‘d do everything to win more money, and killing some of us would bring money too.“ He said, it sounded logical. „Then we should attack first“ Young-il said. I looked at him like he was crazy. I didn’t want to die after all. „No, it would bring unnecessary deaths.. we should pretend like we didn’t know it. When they start attacking, we‘ll hide under the bunks. When the guards come in to stop the game, we will lay down on the floor and act like we were dead, when they check us to identify us, we‘ll grab their guns“

„Are you crazy? They‘d kill us!“ Hyun-ju called out. „It‘s the only way to stop these games.. We have to stop the frontman.“ Young-il tensed up, i shrugged it off, maybe he was just scared. „But they‘d easily overpower us, they‘re probably twice as much as we are.“ Young-il spoke up. „And after all, the other players would be suspicious if everyone of us hid under the beds.“ He continued.

„Not all of us will hide, only the ones that are here,“. Gi-hun said, I quickly looked up at him, in disbelief „So we‘re gonna leave people to die? Just so we‘re gonna end up in a bigger risk of dying?“ Young-il‘s hand went on my thigh, going up and down in a slow pace. He tried to reassure me. „Sometimes it’s important to have some victims to save everyone else.“

I sighed, „Trust me on this guys, two of us will watch out, as soon as we see movement, we‘ll quickly tell you all and all of you‘ll go hide under one of the bunks.“ Everyone agreed to Gi-huns plan. I just did because Young-il did. I didn’t flex right about this whole situation.

2 Minutes until lights out. I went to my bed, all of us choose the ones at the bottom, so we could hide quicker. Young-il‘s bed was almost next to mine. The 2 minutes went by fast, i tried to fall asleep, but i couldn’t. My mind kept me awake all the time.. I don’t want to die. Gi-hun and Jung-bae were patrolling. I felt unsure about all of this, so i went to Young-il..

I whispered as i lightly touched him, „Young-il..?“ He turned to me, his eyes were sharp, but softened when he realized it was me. „Baby? what are you doing here?“ He asked, he pulled me down to sit next to him. He started to caress my hair.

„I‘m scared.. can i stay with you?“

So… I decided i‘ll make a THIRD part, because i currently have a blockade for this story, and instead of letting y‘all wait for the second part i‘ll just make a mini-series out of it🤍 I hope y‘all enjoyed it!! (thanks again for the support y‘all omg)

TAG LIST: @slovesyouuu @squidgame-lover001

[emmg]

Swapped sugar daddy anon crawling back into ur inbox, (I am continuing to write the beginning of their relationship, and ngl my respect for fic writers has tripled. I have no idea how you do this I feel like a 5 yr old smacking 2 barbies together and yelling kiss) and apologies for how long this is but I’ve been thinking about how everything eventually blows up in their faces and I kinda want it to be a pregnancy scare in her final year? They’ve been seeing each other for a few years now, and they get a little relaxed about things, they’re exclusive and she’s on the pill so they don’t have to worry about it. Until her period is several weeks late so she takes a test just in case and suddenly they really do. And oh god she wants kids, especially Emmrich’s kids, but not right now??? She doesn’t want to have to juggle pregnancy/a baby while writing and defending her thesis. They haven’t even talked about kids yet even if she’s pretty sure he wants them? He hasn’t acknowledged her hints about marriage, is it because he doesn’t want to marry her? She’s so scared about what this means and she needs Emmrich’s support and why is he being so weird and cagey about this? Does he think she’s trying to baby trap him? (She doesn’t know but he wouldn’t mind, he’d probably say thank you)

And Emmrich is in crisis mode. Now, he is a pro choice king so whatever rook wants is what happens, but also oh god he wants this child sooo bad. He’s always wanted kids but he’d kinda given up on it at this point and add in that it’s Rooks baby? a little piece of their love made physical (Don’t think too hard about how she doesn’t really love you Emmrich). An excuse to still see her sometimes, even if it means watching her eventually move on and marry and start a family with someone else. Even if she doesn’t want to be involved he could keep this little part of her (its only for a second, but he thinks he’d give her anything she asked for, he’d pay off her student loans, he’d buy her a fucking house, if she let him have this even if she walks away from it) but she can’t know that. He’d never forgive himself if he pressured her into this no matter how much he wants it. And he realises how completely and utterly fucked he is. Rook is the love of his life but he isn’t hers and there’s no way that this can continue as it is. If she keeps the baby she’ll never really be able to leave him behind, and is he selfish enough to ruin her life like that? He’s already bought the last three years with fancy restaurants and expensive gifts, what can he possibly offer her that’s worth the rest of her life?

I’m still not 100% sure about how it all comes out but I imagine that it's probably a fight, their first big real fight, about how rook feels like Emmrich’s being avoidant and unsupportive and Emmrich is fighting for his life bc internally he’s hanging on by a thread, like why is she treating this like their relationship is actually real? He’s trying to build up some emotional distance bc no matter how this goes he’s kinda fucked and he wants to make sure that he makes it through this at least somewhat emotionally intact. I think rook eventually calls him out on this, saying something about how she thought he was serious about this, about her, how she thought they were gonna get married but how he’s acting is making her rethink that bc it doesn’t seem like he is very serious about her right now. And he says something about how of course he wants to marry her but he wouldn’t put her in that position bc he knows it would be unfair to ask her for that. And rook is like what the actual fuck are you talking about Emmrich? And Emmrich is crying at this point, quietly and very prettily but he is crying. And this is when the misunderstanding comes out, where Emmrich is like “I know you don’t actually love me and I don’t expect you to, but I would appreciate it if we could discuss this situation without pretending that you do.” and this is when rook starts to put the pieces together and is like “wait do u think i'm only with you for your money” and Emmrich’s like “yes? Why else would you be dating me?”

I have absolutely zero ideas on how this is actually resolved but i know that emmrich 100% ugly sobs at some point. And realistically he’s probably still quite insecure about whether or not rook actually does love him but i feel like they work it out eventually and get married and are disgustingly happy together.

Also idk if they keep the baby or not, but they absolutely have at least 1 kid at some point.

BABYYYYYY I am ON MY KNEES begging you to publish this because I have read and re-read it so many times that I’m basically in a parasocial relationship with your asks. At this point, just reading your ideas is activating my primal hunger instincts. I’m starving. I am THIS CLOSE to organizing a fandom-wide intervention where we collectively cyberbully you into dropping this holy manuscript.

The way I flatlined at "pro-choice king"—like, I ascended. I left my body. LMAO

Listen, I am normally violently allergic to the "and they lived happily ever after with 2.5 kids and a suburban mortgage" trope. I break out in hives. I see it, and suddenly the book I loved turns into a mid-tier Hallmark movie where the protagonist goes from slaying demons to clutching her stomach and whispering “oh my god.” Like, girl. GIRL. No. Keep that away from me. Anyway, thanks for attending my TED Talk.

BUT. FUCKING. EMMRICH VOLKARIN. This man was engineered in a lab to be a father. He was born for it. I go absolutely rabid over the idea of him having a daughter. He is so girl-dad-coded that it’s spiritual. Rook so much as mentions her period is late, and this man is weeping.

He’s already drafting a will.

He's calling his lawyer.

He’s distributing his gold bars.

He’s making her his sole life insurance beneficiary.

"And rook is like what the actual fuck are you talking about Emmrich?" — lmfao nah for real. What did you think these last three years were? And Emmrich does that Gob face from Arrested Development, you know the one:

I want him to cry and then I want them to fuck and then I want him to cry while they fuck. That's it, your honor.

[cod-thoughts]

You call my bluff, how can I keep this up?

Word count: 1.2k

Relationships: implied GhostPrice

Tags: Very silly, inspired by art, Ghost is very down bad, they arent together yet

Part of a project that has a tiny explanation here. Keep reading under the cut!!

AN: This is a gift for the lovely @gomzdrawfr we barely know each other but i absolutely love your art it always brings me a lot of joy. This particular drawing hasnt left my mind since you've uploaded it and ive been dying to write for it so now i have. Happy valentines day! <33 Hopefully this doesnt freak you out my bad if it does 0_0

Simon Riley prided himself on discipline. A soldier’s mind was supposed to be sharp, focused, unwavering—trained to cut through distractions like a blade through fog.

Unfortunately, Ghost’s mind was none of those things at the moment.

Because right now, all he could think about was lifting his Captain.

It had started as a passing thought, one of those ridiculous notions that flit in and out of consciousness before being dismissed outright. But the problem—the real, pressing issue—was that he didn’t dismiss it. He let it linger. He let it take root.

And now? Now it was a full-blown fantasy.

Price wasn’t even doing anything particularly remarkable. He was just there, standing at the other end of the room, sleeves rolled up, a cigar hanging lazily between his fingers as he pored over mission reports. The bastard didn’t even realise what he was doing, didn’t realise how profoundly, cosmically annoying it was that he looked so unbothered. So effortlessly composed. So fucking liftable.

Ghost flexed his fingers absently. He was pretty sure he could do it. No, scratch that—he knew he could do it. He’d been working out more lately, upping his deadlifts and bench press, and Price wasn’t that much heavier than the weights he’d been throwing around. Maybe a bit more solid in the middle, sure, but Ghost wasn’t about to let that stop him.

His mind supplied a vivid image of how it might go: him stepping up behind Price, arms looping around his waist before hoisting him clean off the ground like he weighed nothing. He imagined the startled grunt Price would make, the way his cigar might tumble from his lips in sheer disbelief. Ghost would hold him there, suspended mid-air, feeling triumphant and smug as Price swore up a storm. Maybe even toss him over a shoulder for good measure.

A slow, creeping warmth spread through Ghost’s chest. Fuck, I really wanna do it.

And then the thought—the dangerous, irrational thought—took an even more deranged turn.

What if he just… buried his face in Price’s back? Just thunked his head against him like some oversized cat marking its territory? What if he just took a big inhale too? What if he just filled his lungs up with Price's intoxicating scent?

Ghost had seen videos of big cats rubbing against their handlers, knocking them around with sheer weight alone, and now the mental image of himself doing that to Price was seared into his mind. 

Would Price let him? Probably not. But maybe. If Ghost timed it right. If he made it quick enough, took advantage of Price’s soft spot for him.

Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with me?

He scrubbed a hand down his mask, barely resisting the urge to groan. He was losing his goddamn mind, and the worst part was, he wasn’t even ashamed of it. If anything, he was tempted.

Because it wasn’t just some unhinged urge—it was Price.

It was the way Price carried himself, all rough edges and commanding presence, but with the kind of warmth underneath that Ghost couldn’t look away from. It was the way he laughed, the rare deep rumble of it that made Ghost’s chest go tight. It was the way Price had a habit of standing too close, completely unaware of how much space he actually occupied in Ghost’s head.

It was the way Price had his little habits—how he’d run a hand down his beard when he was thinking, or the way he bounced when he was feeling restless, fingers gripping his vest. The way his accent thickened when he was particularly exasperated, or how his blue eyes sharpened when he was assessing a situation. Ghost could list a dozen things about the man that made his brain short-circuit, and not a single one of them had anything to do with the fact that Price was his superior officer.

He wasn’t just some bloke Ghost wanted to wrestle to the ground for fun. No, it was something worse, something worsebecause it came with an emotion Ghost didn’t quite have a name for but felt deep in his ribs whenever Price clapped a hand on his shoulder or called him ‘Simon.’

Ghost sighed and slouched further into his seat, arms crossed. Maybe if he just stopped looking at him—

“Yer makin’ that face again.”

Ghost stiffened, head snapping up. Price was looking at him now, one brow raised in amusement.

Shit.

“…What face?” Ghost asked, voice carefully neutral.

“The one where you’re plottin’ somethin’ daft.”

Ghost blinked. He was absolutely not making that face. He was making his normal, everyday blank expression. The same one that had struck fear into the hearts of enemy combatants for years. There was no fucking way Price could tell that, just moments ago, Ghost had been contemplating rubbing his head against him like an over-affectionate housecat. 

How he could even read Ghost's expression through the mask had always been a mystery. Price knew him too well, it should scare him but it doesn't, it never has. 

“I’m not plottin’ anything,” Ghost lied.

Price hummed, unconvinced. “Uh-huh.” He turned back to his reports but didn’t drop the smirk. “Whatever you say, Simon.”

Ghost exhaled slowly. Disaster avoided.

And yet—and yet—

The urge still hadn’t left.

No, if anything, it had gotten worse. Because now, in the absence of fantasy, his brain had moved into problem-solving mode. Could he get away with it? Could he pull it off? If he were fast enough, if he caught Price off guard, maybe—

Ghost bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe he needed to accept that this was just who he was now. A man consumed by the overwhelming, irrational desire to manhandle his Captain and fucking nuzzle him. A lost cause.

A complete and total, lost cause that was actively fighting for its life as Price casually stretched, arms rolling back, giving Ghost a perfect view of his broad shoulders and back flexing under the fabric of his shirt.

Ghost’s jaw clenched. His hand curled into a fist.

Get. A. Fucking. Grip.

“Well, whatever it is, just make sure it doesn’t involve me having to clean up any of your messes.” Price’s voice snapped him back to the present.

Ghost barely processed the words. All he could focus on was the fact that, when Price shifted in his seat, his damn jacket rode up just slightly, exposing a sliver of his back, displaying all the little moles and freckles and those two distinct dimples in his lower back that look perfect for his fingers to dig into and oh, for fuck's sake.  

Ghost clenched his fists. 

He was going to lose it.

He was actually going to lose it.

He had to get out of here before he did something insane. Like follow through on these godforsaken thoughts.

“Right,” Ghost muttered, pushing himself up from his chair a little too quickly, a little too stiffly. “Gotta… check on something.”

Price barely glanced up. “Mmhm.”

Ghost turned on his heel, marching toward the exit. He needed fresh air. He needed to not be in this room thinking about how catastrophically down bad he was.

As he reached the doorway, he heard Price’s voice again, this time tinged with unmistakable amusement.

“Oi, Ghost.”

Ghost paused but didn’t turn around.

“…If you’re thinkin’ about doin’ whatever it is you’re thinkin’ about doin’—” Price’s smirk was practically audible. “—I’d think about it first.”

Ghost didn’t respond. Just gritted his teeth and forced himself to step outside before he did something really stupid. He couldn’t move until the door shut behind him. He inhaled deeply, exhaled through his nose, and flexed his fingers at his sides.

Maybe, maybe he could let this ridiculous urge go. Maybe he could shove it back into the depths of his mind and act like a normal person.

…Or maybe, just maybe, he was gonna pick the perfect moment to put his theory to the test.

Because one day—one day—he was gonna lift that man.

And no force on earth was going to stop him.

[the-kr8tor]

VALENTINES DAY…EW LOVE EW ROMANCE EW EVERYTHING

Daily Hobie HC!

(+a special guest…)

Most witches were known for having a familiar. Black cat, frog, crow, where one of the many common companions. However, you didn’t need a familiar when you already had two loving partners.

You sat in the large library in the mansion, your eyes fixated on a book in your lap that you barely noticed Ekko and Hobie sneaking in.

While Ekko enjoyed himself with his arms around your hips and his head against your lap, Hobie wrapped his arms around your neck from the back, burying his face into your neck and teasing you with the tips of his fangs.

At times, it felt like you were watching two little boys fight as Ekko, full werewolf, jumps and snaps at Hobie who’s busy giggling and twirling in the sky as a bat. All while you’re laying your head against a tree and watching to make sure things don’t get out of hand.

Other times, nothing can beat being practically sandwiched in between the two during long cuddle sessions. Both of their warm bodies lull you to sleep easily and Hobie and Ekko are always quick to find a perfect way to slot themselves beside you comfortably.

Some full moons, the two of you will venture further out, having a seat close to the edge of a cliff overlooking the shores. With Hobie chirping in satisfaction softly in your ear, and Ekko’s happy hums as you run your hands through his fur, the moment is more than enough to make your heart feel like it’s going to burst.

At times where you’ve fallen asleep studying ways to improve spells, Ekko and Hobie will both make up a plan to get you back to bed. With Ekko placing a bookmark in your page and grabbing blankets, Hobie has scooped you up and taken you to the large, grand bed.

He’d lower you down in it in the middle, like you always usually were, and come cuddle you as he waits for Ekko to get the blankets. Once he’s back, Hobie beckons him silently to the other side, draping the blanket softy and tucking it to wrap you three up together in a big cuddle pile.

-🐦‍⬛

AUGH 🙄 hearts and shit 😒😒 (happy heart's day ml)

Daily Hobie HC ❤️❤️❤️

OMG IS THIS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO WATCH A DISNEY CHANNEL CROSSOVER SPECIAL AGAIN?!!!

Oh @pleaktale will love this!!

To be squished in between them *longing sigh* 🥰

I would pay good money to see that 🤣🤣

I can just imagine ekko having dappled white fur with onyx black and his fur is so shiny and soft! And ofc hobat (i miss u pookie) can change whatever bat size he wants like whenever he wants to cuddle with you and Ekko and be comfy between you two he'll be tiny but if he wants to be scary to someone else he'll be in his biggest form looking like something from a nightmare

Why did i suddenly imagine angst with vampire hobie outliving them both 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[allyricas]

Unhinged Eddie works, sure. But hear me out: imagine unhinged, obsessed, possessive Steve!

Eddie does like Steve, a lot, but it took time for him to really warm up to him. That little part of the Munson doctrine that lingers sees Steve as a high school popular boy who allowed his friends to bully others. Sure, Steve didn't exactly do anything himself. He was far too aloof and above it all to get involved.

Steve saved his life several times. He loves the kids and Robin and his ex and the guy she left him for. He drives everyone around and offers dopey smiles.

There's something though. Just...a feeling that Eddie gets. Steve is a good guy yes, but he's something more. Something that sends a delightful yet mildly ominous chill up Eddie's back whenever he catches Steve watching him.

Which is often these days. Steve watches Eddie with an intensity that makes Eddie want to simultaneously run to Steve and from him. He enjoys the attention, but... there's something.

Steve who noticed Eddie long before the upside down brought them together. Steve with an eye roll and a shoulder shrug whenever the younger party brought him up. Eddie 'the freak' Munson...ugh no thank you.

Except that Steve wants him so badly. He always had a thing for him. But now, he's infatuated. It was done the minute Eddie slammed him against the wall in the boat shed. One look into those doe eyes and Steve was fully gone.

The thing is that Steve doesn't do anything in halves, especially with love. He's always been the type to fall hard and fast.

There's just something about Eddie that makes it all go a little too far. Maybe Steve's wires get crossed, but he has these urges. He wants to steal Eddie and keep him. Tie him up and take care of him.

It's possessive and obsessive in a way that should worry Steve. Instead, he's fucking thrilled.

He wants to mark Eddie up so everyone knows he belongs to Steve. Wants to kill Carver or anyone else that so much as looks at him wrong. Wants to make Eddie watch.

See how much I love you. What I would do for you.

He knows he's being a little unhinged.

He can't help himself. He helps things along in their relationship. He manufactures a couple of situations to make sure Eddie needs him. A few flat tires. A few 'threats' against him and Wayne. Ruined job opportunities all so he can offer Eddie a room in his big, empty house.

Just the two of them.

He definitely doesn't watch Eddie sleep or steal his shirts to sleep with Eddie's smell.

He doesn't listen to Eddie touch himself late at night, definitely doesn't touch himself with those sounds in his mind.

He... definitely doesn't threaten anyone who shows an ounce of romantic interest in Eddie.

He, uh, is definitely not doing any of those things.

But, if he were... he'd justify it by promising to make Eddie the happiest, most loved man alive.

And he does.

And Eddie might have an inkling that Steve's love is, well, intense. He lets himself give into it. Let's Steve shower him in every inch of his unhinged, obsessed affection.

And if sometimes there's a moment where Eddie seems a bit apprehensive...Steve is sure to kiss him just right. He pulls Eddie into his whirlwind of touch and care and Eddie is Steve's once again. Always.

Whether Eddie wants to be or not.

[thursdaysyme]

arwen ft arthur giving his wife anything she wants

[loaksky]

— come a little closer

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

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

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

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

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

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

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

The step creaks under pure muscle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“________,” you offer.

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

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

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

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

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

Vi’s floored.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

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

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

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

“So?”

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

Her teammate snorts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

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

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

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

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

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

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

“I am.”

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

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

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

Vi could melt.

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

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

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

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

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

“You’re fucking joking!”

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

“Maddie,” you whisper.

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

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

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

You look around in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

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

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

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

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

“Am I going too fast?”

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

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

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

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

You decide to fold your cards first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

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

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

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

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

“Violet.”

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

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

“V—”

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

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

Vi’s smile is crooked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

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

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

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

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

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

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

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

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

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

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

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

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

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

“Sure, anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hungry?” you ask.

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

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

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

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

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

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

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

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

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

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

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

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

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

“God, marry me now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

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

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

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

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

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

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

Cute. So fucking cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Vi,” you whimper.

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

She resists a smile.

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

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

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

Test the waters, cop a feel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

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

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

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

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

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

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

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

5—4.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

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

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

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

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

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

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

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

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

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

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

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

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

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

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

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

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

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

“Leave it.”

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

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

She winks.

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

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

You should come, I can pick you up.

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

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

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

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

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

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

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

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” she hums.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh.”

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

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

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

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

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

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

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

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

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

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

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

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

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

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

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

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

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

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

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

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

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

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

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

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

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

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

“Can I?” she husks.

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

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

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

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

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

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

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

You’re staring, hard.

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

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

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

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

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

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

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

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

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

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

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

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

Your heartbeat skips.

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

Vi’s grinning wide.

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

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

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

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

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

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

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

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

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you’re running.

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

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

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

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

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

I’ll see you next week.

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

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

She sighs. Hard.

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

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

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

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

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

.

.

.

Then you add, We can smoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like?”

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

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

“Uh-huh?”

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

“But?”

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

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

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

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

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

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

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

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

Your breath catches.

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

“Why?”

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

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

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

“You really believe that?”

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

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

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

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

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

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

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

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

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

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

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

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

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

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

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

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

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xxxx: i really miss you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

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

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You humph.

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

“And that’s my problem because...?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Violet’s in love with you.”

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

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

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

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

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

“There’s a video.”

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

She reaches a palm out.

Show me.

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

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

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7—5.

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

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

Her bracelet.

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

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” you squeak.

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

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

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

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

You swallow.

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t,” you admit.

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

“We could start off with the obvious.”

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

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

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

“Vi.”

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

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

“Pl—ease.”

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

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

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

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

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

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

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

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

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

“Oh–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Vi.”

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

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nnngh, fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

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

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

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

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

“Thought you left,” you croak.

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

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

You whine.

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

Violet groans.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

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

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

neng © 2024

[versupital]

your panties scare me, can i take them off?

pov. you got new halloween panties/pajamas and he’s about to lose his mind.

content: implied smut, breath play (toji), virgin!choso, sexual content (MDI), husband!nanami, breeding kink (nanami), roommate!gojo, afab!reader

incl pairings: choso, nanami, gojo, toji

word count. 2.1k

soundtrack 💿🌧️: sex on sight ft. usher

Choso.

"Mmh..."

You lay on the bed, entangled in burly arms and the scent of aftershave. Your boyfriend is attacking you in sloppy kisses, all down your neck and jaw, as screams beam out of the TV from the horror movie you'd stopped watching about ten minutes ago.

His hand roams dangerously over your side while your nails dig into his back for stability. The two of you have yet to take things as far as penetration, so it’s all you can do to fight back the urge to whip his cock out and plop down on it.

You wonder if tonight things are going to finally change, as you feel your panties grow damper, and Choso's cock digging into your stomach through his sweats.

"Why do we always do this?" Choso breathes. “We start a movie we can't even finish."

You laugh against him before it melts into a moan at the reminder of his wet lips. "Because I don’t like scary movies, Cho. ‘M so afraid.”

Choso grunts against your skin, "Really? How can i make you feel better?”

You huff and roll onto your back. Choso doesn't waste any time climbing over you, propping himself up on his elbows.

"You can start by taking my shorts off,” you instruct, eyes filled with lust as you stare up at your ebony-haired partner.

He pauses his kisses to look down at you in surprise. "Y-You want to...?"

"Yes," you nod, biting your lip. “Don’t y’wanna comfort me from the scary monsters on the TV?”

Choso nods eagerly, and his big hands come up to your waistband to begin pulling down your shorts. As the material slides over your thighs, he pauses and stares with furrowed brows, right at your underwear.

"Um, baby?" he cocks his head to the side. "Who is... V.S.?"

You let out an exasperated breath before smiling. "That stands for Victoria's Secret, Cho. It's a lingerie brand."

His eyes bulge and he looks back up at you, "Lingerie?"

He continues to slide the shorts all the way off, to reveal your blood red thong with a tiny white ghost on the front. You suspect the ghost is supposed to look like a glob of cum, and you imagine Choso’s in its place.

"Oh fuck," he breathes, "you wore these f'me?"

"Who else, Cho?" you run your hands over your stomach seductively, patting the top of the thong. "You like?”

Choso's eyes flash white, and he hooks his fingers over the skinny string that keeps the thong around your waist.

"Shit, I..." he swallows thickly. "Love them. You have more like this?”

You nod confidently. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you see them one at a time.”

You wink and Choso’s nervous hands remain entangled in the strings of your thong. “What if I can’t please you?”

"Not possible," you shake your head, running your hands into his hair, grateful he’d taken it out of its pigtails for his shower. "I nearly cum every time we make out."

His eyes widen. "Oh, so it's not just me," he breathes out in relief.

You giggle and spread your legs a little more, your lips threatening to pop right out of the terribly small pair of panties.

A girl shrieks on the TV and there is the sound of a slashing knife.

You fake a shiver, "Oh, Cho! I'm so afraid. Mmh, hurry and make me feel better.”

Choso smirks and rips down your panties, knowing that the neighbors are going to think someone is really being murdered by the time he’s done with you.

Nanami.

"Excuse me, my love."

You turn in place to see your husband, standing in the doorframe of the bathroom as you brush your teeth.

"Hmph, yes?" you mumble around your toothbrush, your face heating in the same way it always does when you see him, no matter how long you’ve been together.

Nanami stands awkwardly in the doorframe, shifting his weight like a nervous child. He's in his own version of pajamas: a white shirt, plaid pants, and house shoes. His hand raises and he points to your legs.

"When did you acquire those?" he asks delicately, referring to the tiny orange shorts you have on that are patterned in bats.

"The shorts?" you mumble, before removing your toothbrush and spitting out the toothpaste. "Um, I got them yesterday while costume shopping with the kids. Why?"

Nanami laces his fingers together. "I just thought I'd seen all of your clothes, because you always try them on for me. You didn't..." he inhales a ragged breath. "You didn't show me these. Is there a reason?"

You nearly feel your heart shatter through your ribcage. Nanami clearly looks distraught that you failed to give him a fashion show. At the same time, you notice his pajama pants growing a friendly tent in them, and you suspect you know the real reason he is upset.

"I... wanted it to be a surprise, Ken," you say, pat drying your mouth on a washcloth, before walking towards him, all minty and shower fresh.

"A surprise?" Nanami questions, visibly getting tense as you approach.

"Mhmm..." you tiptoe your fingers up his arm and over his shoulder. "You like them?"

"That's a very loaded question," Nanami mutters. "I like anything you wear."

"But these seem to be having a different effect on you, honey," you coo, tilting your head to the side, resting your hand on the back of his neck - his sweet spot.

You watch his Adam's apple bob.

"Yes," he whispers, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. "They’re really… small. And we, you know, can’t do things as often anymore with the baby… I just miss you.”

You sigh, relaxing under his touch. “Right. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Nanami lets out a feral noise. "No, I’m not. I feel like a horny teenager. Just need you really bad.”

“I haven’t seen you this desperate in a while, honey,” you say, taking a step back, letting your hands fall off of each other. "Go ahead. Take them off.”

Nanami doesn't hesitate. His big hands gently peel down the waistband, and he bites his lip as he examines what’s underneath.

"You're not wearing underwear," he realizes with a breath. “Gonna make me lose myself here, Y/N.”

"Well, I was thinking..." you cock your head to the side. "One more baby wouldn't hurt, would it?"

Nanami's eyes grow a bit larger. “D-don’t say that.”

“Know you’ve been trying so hard not to finish in me,” you coo, “but don’t you miss it?”

“Y/N…” his knuckles go white as he nearly rips the material of your little shorts. “We really shouldn’t.”

"No, but ngh..." you roll your hips under his hands. "Wouldn't it be fun to see how feral we can get?"

"I am already ‘feral’ just looking at these shorts, Y/N." Nanami nearly whines, his eyebrows furrowed in desperation, waiting for you to give him the word.

"Really," you whisper on his neck, planting a kiss there soon after. "That was easier than I thought.”

Nanami sighs against you. "Why are you so good at this, hm, little minx?"

You smile against his skin, "Why are my shorts still on, Kento?"

Nanami growls, all guttural and primal instinct, and your back is crashing against the counter in an instant.

You bite your lip, "Eager?” you question.

"You have no idea." He hums as he slides down the orange garment, staring at them. "Did you buy any more?”

"Maybe," you say quietly, blinking as you try to picture what he's going to do to you next.

"Good," he parts your legs and stands between them before using his thick hands to open your mouth and shove the shorts right inside of it. “We’ll need these so we don’t wake the baby.”

Gojo.

"You wanna be me so fucking bad!"

You spin slowly in place, holding a piece of popcorn only halfway to your mouth. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Your eyes land on your roommate's bottoms, a plush pair of Friday-the-13th pajama pants. They are exactly like the boy shorts you’re wearing, the ones that have ridden up and cover basically nothing.

"If you wanted to match, you could've just said that," Gojo huffs, crossing his arms.

You raise your eyebrow, "I’ve had these for a long time. You're the one who wants to be like me."

Gojo scoffs. "Why haven’t I ever seen them, then?" He shoves his hands in his pockets. “And au contraire, madamoiselle, I want to be in you. Huuuge difference there.”

You cough a bit, choking on nothing, unable to respond.

"Of course, choking on my cock could definitely work too," Gojo mutters, examining his nails. "Maybe teach you a lesson about walking around in just your panties."

You roll your eyes, but it’s hard to deny the fluttery feeling in your stomach just from his words. "Please, like I've never done this before."

"And every time you have, you end up bent over, begging for me to take it easier, don't you?" He cocks his head to the side and lets his eyes slither down your body like a snake of temptation.

You bite your lip. "So it’s my fault that you have no self control?”

Gojo nods his head. "Yes, maybe I just wanted to have a nice, relaxing Halloween game night with you... but now you've got me so worked up."

You tap your chin. "You wanted to spend time with me that doesn't involve sex? Seems a little out of character, don't you think?"

Gojo stalks towards you, long feathery strides until he's towering over your frame, eyes threatening to sear your clothes right off of you.

"Oh, you can't get any denser, can you?" he questions. "This sick little arrangement we have, teasing each other and fucking on every surface in the house isn't what I want." He pauses. "I mean, yes, but it's more than that."

You blink up at him. "What else could you possibly want?"

Gojo sighs, and slowly wraps his arms around you in a cinnamon-scented bear hug. "I want to contact you about your car's extended warranty."

"SATORU!" you screech, hitting him on the chest as he bursts into laughter.

"I'm joking, you know that I can't take shit seriously," he runs his fingers through his hair. “For fuck sake, I want a relationship with you, okay? Do I need to spell it out on the lawn?"

"Yes, actually," you tease, sitting your popcorn bucket down and running your buttery hands over his chest. "You want to be with me?"

"Your pussy's too good to let anyone else have you," he hums, leaning forward and kissing your neck.

"You're so annoying," you grit, but you can't help but melt into his touch and kisses.

He chuckles against you but doesn’t respond.

Gojo pulls his head out of your neck and leans towards you, lips parted in expectancy.

Your eyes flutter closed just as your mouths collide, this kiss feeling different than the hundreds that had come before it. You lean into him and grab the drawstring of his pajamas, while his fingers are also subconsciously twisting into your boy shorts.

"Mmh, can't get enough of you," Gojo mumbles against your mouth.

You giggle. "Good thing I'm yours now. There's plenty of time to reach all of me."

He breaks away from you and stares down in astonishment. "Really?"

You nod, tugging him closer by his pants. "So, about that game night..."

"Eh, it can wait, we have some celebrating to do." He grins, and before you know it you're being lifted swiftly into the air, hauled over his shoulder with your ass next to his face, as he pops a crack on the soft skin there. "And don't you ever wear these without warning me again."

Toji.

“Why are you hovering? I said sit.”

Your boyfriend is obsessed with you sitting on his face, suffocating him with your cunt and juices, this is nothing new. But this time, he wants to try something a bit more deranged.

You’d just been trying to show him your new panties and matching socks, honest. You may have also been wearing one of his shirts, and this was absolutely his weakness, and you absolutely knew that.

“My shirt, baby?” he’d cooed, pulling you into a hug and planting soft kisses on your face. “New panties too? You spoil me.”

It wouldn’t be long before he was lifting you up, effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying down on it. Then, before you had the chance to squirm or run, he was gripping your sides and lifting you over his face, where you caught your weight with your knees.

“Toji, they’re still on,” you mumble, his hands gliding up your sides to hike up his shirt. He stares directly between your legs which causes your clit to twitch.

“So?” he questions from below.

Thick hands mash into the crease of your hips, forcing your weight to fall down on his wide nose and full lips.

Your face turns the color of beets, but you ultimately have no time to be embarrassed as Toji locks his arms around your thighs.

His eyes have fluttered closed, and you can feel his shuddering breath through the cloth as he takes in your scent.

Your hands are on the headboard for stability, looking down at him, feeling your panties grow damper as he wiggles his face around, nose brushing your clit.

“Toji approved,” he says suddenly, before you feel his fat, warm tongue slide along the material of the panties, and your body lurches.

“Wh-What…?”

“I can still eat you through your panties,” he huffs, eyes popping open and catching you staring down at him. “This was the plan all along, puss.”

Your thighs shudder on either side of his head. “You’re not serious.”

“As a heart attack, baby,” he mumbles, before flicking his tongue over the cloth again, nose massaging your clit, hands burying deeper into your skin. It’s all so much, you moan and rotate your hips over him.

“Wh-what made you want to try this?” you ask, biting your lip as he tugs on the material with his teeth, taking in another animalistic sniff.

“You looked so proud to show them off,” Toji grunts. “It’s a shame that they were only going to end up on the floor, huh?”

You have to agree. You’d stopped buying lingerie long ago because it would never last more than a few seconds around Toji, but you figured a new pair of panties couldn’t hurt. You just hadn’t expected this reaction out of him.

Besides, you can’t deny how good it feels to dry hump his face, there only being a thin barrier between your folds and his wet tongue, making it all the more a tease.

From then on, it became a regular tradition for Toji to “approve” your new holiday panties - but of course, the halloween ones remained his favorite.

A/N:

im sorry for pumping out these shitty short ones but im just trying to keep yall fed while we wait for the long ones ^.^

~pennjammin

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

midoriya being reader's and bakugou's biggest cheerleader, rooting for them since day one!?!?!?! 😭💖 he literally watched his 2 friends grow up and fall in love...he's so happy for them 🥹💗 like imagine the waterworks when they tell him they're (finally) in a relationship...if anyone believes in their love, it's midoriya!!!! 💓

the way things go !

synopsis : izuku knows, he always has, but he'll let you both figure it out.

an. this is literally so cute i love this !! tysm for the ask, this is pretty late tho so super sorries about this if youre still sticking around anon :(( but i hope you (and all yall) enjoy!!

cw. fluffy fluff ! childhood friends YAAAAAAH—middle school katsuki lol, childhood to like second year of ua timeskip, lmk if there's anything else !

if he thinks hard enough, izuku midoriya can remember the exact moment he realised his best friend had fallen in love with you.

you'd gone from being a new addition to their little friend group to you guys being so tight knit that people automatically associated you all together, if one was around—the other two were always expected nearby, a little trio.

sure, izuku never wanted anybody to feel left out, but you and kacchan were his best friends forever. you all had sleep overs at katsuki's house and went out for ice cream, visit for birthdays and stay up late to watch tv and tell scary stories under the covers. katsuki always pulled mean little pranks afterwards which would always scare the pants off of izuku, you always reassured him though, saying katsuki was being stupid. he thought that it was really cool how you never seemed to get scared until he noticed how you'd jump sometimes, but he found you even cooler.

you were best friends forever, shown by the cool woven bracelets you'd gotten for your friends when you came back from a beach vacation with your family. kacchan had complained the entire time you were gone, calling everything boring without you, but he never said a word about it when you got back and smacked izuku on the arm hard when he'd tried to tell you how much they'd both missed you.

izuku had managed to rip his gaze off his bracelet, woven with green and shades of blue that matched the sea to look up at his friend to ask how he felt about his gift. katsuki's had hints of orange, reds and vibrant pinks and he didn't complain about it even though he always said it was a girl colour. red eyes like his bracelet fixed onto his arm.

"look and yours kinda looks like it has flames on it, see ? like your explosions !" you explained excitedly, and izuku couldn't help getting excited too. your humour was always contagious. "oh yeah, i see it !" he agreed and you look over at him to nod in approval, obviously proud of your choice. and izuku realised then that the blonde still hadn't said one word.

you didn't seem to mind though, still too excited from your trip and izuku's reaction to his gift. you stuck your arm against katsuki's and grabbed izuku's so he could stick it to his, all your multicoloured bracelets coming together to form a mess of jumbled up colours "see, now we all match !" you exclaimed.

katsuki's cheeks were pink, stained and blotchy even through the worn out little bandaid stuck to his cheek. and all he could manage then was a nod, katsuki who you'd always call a big mouth was speechless and just nodded. izuku thought that was really weird

"i like it." he mumbled out quietly, obviously realising that you were now both awaiting an answer from him "we match," he repeated "but mines cooler." he finished off, crossing his arms and huffing to the sky proudly. and you burst out laughing, little giggles spill out and you break out into a laugh as you lean onto izuku. he can't help himself from laughing either. katsuki tries, really does, but he ends up laughing a bit too, nudging at your leg with his foot when you call him a big mouth.

and for the entire rest of the day, kacchan had found some excuse or other to drag you around and hold your hand, saying something about how you'd get lost since you were gone for so long, izuku thought that was weird too since you were only gone too weeks, but he quickly forgot about it. it was still hot when you got back, so you went for ice cream with money miss mitsuki had given you all to celebrate your return, and had gone to your (not so) secret spot by the river bank to laze around after your bellies were full.

the wind breezed through his clothes as izuku remembered the taste of his two scoops on his tongue, sighing and feeling himself getting sleepy. he hears you and kacchan talking.

he's talking about how your bracelet looks more like his, so you two match more. "that means you gotta stay with me forever so . . don't leave again." he mumbles, izuku hears the tugging and pulling of grass roots "was boring without you here." before he quickly catches himself with an "that's what izuku said." and the green haired boy answered with a sleepy "uhuh . . " that makes you giggle.

"i can ask my mom if you and izuku can come next time !" you chirp excitedly and you've always been contagious, so izuku responds again with a sleepy "yaaay . ." that makes you laugh.

when school started back up, katsuki had been quick to rip off his jacket and show off his bracelet to your friends, shown off by the short sleeved t-shirt he was wearing. always proud to answer the question of where'd gotten his cool new bracelet with a loud "yn got it for me from when she went on her trip, i bet she didn't get you anything !"

always proud and showing off was a kacchan that izuku knew all too well. but it was always about himself, never about others. and yet here he was showing off your gift to anybody who would listen because you were best friends. izuku thinks he truly realised, not then, but during lunch break when kacchan had pushed a boy to the ground because he'd made fun of his bracelet and called it girly.

"not true !" he'd yelled "you're just mad 'cus yn didn't get you nothin' and she likes me more then you. i bet you're just jealous 'cus she hates you, she told me you stink !"

and that's when he knew. because all three of you were always together and izuku had never ever heard you say that. but it seemed that to katsuki, being hated by you was the worst thing imaginable.

and that's when he knew.

and to him it was only natural for katsuki, one of the coolest people he knew, to have a crush on the other coolest person he knew. but when he'd asked kacchan about it after school, he'd punched him in the shoulder and told him "n-no ! shut up, quit talking stupid !" even as his cheeks turned beet red and he trudged off to go grab his backpack.

there was no doubt about it, you had a crush on each other.

izuku knows it, he knows you both know it. so why don't you do anything about it ?! it's sorta been driving him crazy.

he sees it all. sure, him and kacchan don't actually hang out anymore, but you and izuku still hang out and he sees them. the looks, the almost touches and the teasing and the shoulder nudges and—seriously, does nobody else see this ?!

but he'll keep quiet, he won't force you to do anything, he'll let you both take your time. but it seems the blond has been getting more and more impatient with himself.

"hey, nerd." izuku jumps despite himself at the rough voice from above him, looking up and quickly hiding his notebook from his ex-childhood friend.

"k-kacchan, hey ! didn't expect to see you here, heh . ." he trails off, eyes darting to the side. and izuku really hadn't expected to see him, kacchan wasn't the type to stay after class, always ready to walk you home when school was out. he feels his hands shaking and clenches onto his uniform pants. katsuki ignores the boy's attempt at friendly conversation, scoffing.

"what's your deal, huh ?" uh oh, izuku panics—what had he done ? he doesn't remember doing anything to anger him.

"i don't know what you're talking about, ka—"

a hand slams against his desk, startling the green haired boy and he almost jumps out of his skin.

"don't fuck with me ! y'know good and goddamn well what i'm talking about."

"but i—"

and then your name gets brought up "ya keep fuckin' staring at her all the time. what, you like her or something ?"

wait, what.

"huh ?"

"don't huh me," katsuki copies with a nasally voice "s'bad enough she wants to hang with you all the time, now you want more ?!"

oh, wait.

"just so you know, she doesn't like the nerdy type so you can go ahead and—" katsuki cuts himself off when he sees izuku smile, a smile he in his mind can only imagine as a smug one, so he scowls " quit makin' that creepy fuckin' face at me, weirdo ! i'll tell you right now—you haven't won and i damn sure won't lose ! never to a nerd like you, you got that ?!" he declared, before stomping out of the classroom.

izuku despite the obvious declaration of war he has no want to be part in, can't help but smile. "you've got nothing to worry about." he mutters to himself.

it'll be fine, he'll let you take your time—he has a feeling it won't be for much longer anyway.

"good morning, yn."

"hi, izuku."

you insist on not looking him in the eye when you speak, and izuku who's known you for years by now, immediately knew something was up.

you're here early, the common room is empty beside you and him right now "how'd you sleep ?" you ask, sipping on some juice. izuku hums, fixing his tie for class, you beckon him over and lean over to fix it for him which he thanks you for with an added shy chuckle.

and it's quiet.

izuku takes a spot next to you, "you know, you can talk to me about anything right ? i don't wanna assume but you look a bit bothered by something." your best friend smiles warmly at you when you make eye contact "i'm here if you need anything."

you squirm in your seat and then finally you spit your next sentence out at super speed "katsuki and i have liked each other for a while now and he asked me out and i said yes !"

"I KNEW IT!" the green haired's exclamation knocks you back and he flies up from his seat, he smiles down at you victoriously like he'd just defeated a villain.

"i knew you guys had been acting different, it was just too obvious ! always looking at each other for long periods of time—and sneaking off and standing so close to each other, it all makes sense !" and you're struck absolutely silent, he rambled and rambled on like he was taking notes for his hero notebook—seriously, how much did he know ?!

"w-wait but—you knew that we liked each other ?" you ask. izuku sits back down, even clears his throat after his little outburst, and smiles at you.

"oh yeah, i've known that for a while now !"

". . how long is a while ?"

". . a couple years."

"oh." you conclude. "i'm sorry i never told you, zuku . .s'just that i know that you and katsu's relationship was . . more than a bit strained so . ."

izuku immediately frown in shock "what, no it's not—you shouldn't have to apologise ! that was between kacchan and i so—" and he stops in his tracks "is that why it took you guys so long to . ."

now you're cutting him off "no, no that's not it ! i just never really had the courage to say anything !" you shyly rub at your glass "and honestly, i had no idea he even liked me like that . ."

surely you had to be messing with him. izuku sweatdrops at you without a word.

"well anyway, i'm glad you too are happy, truly." he utters sincerely. you smile back at him with a giggle and your humour's always been contagious, so he laughs along with you.

and when he sees you and kacchan walking to class holding hands he can't help but throw up a victorious fist up, leaving his friends a little bit confused.

(afterwards during training with katsuki, he wishes him a playful congratulations on winning, the blonde proceeding to punch his arm hard and izuku couldn't help but laugh. until katsuki chucked his water bottle at him.)

taglist ! :

@napbatata @andysdrafts @queenpiranhadon @jastoo46 @cecelia77

@katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba

@moonshuul @erenstitanweave @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam

@aspiringwriter1111 @sugurusmoon @redvelvetstan1

@niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia

[hope-for-the-planet]

Trans person in the US. Bust some of the doomerism for me? Tell me it's going to be okay?

Hi Anon

Usually, I have boundaries for myself about keeping this blog focused on environment-related issues, because there are limits to what I can speak knowledgeably about. But now doesn’t feel like the time for that.

Anon, I will tell you that I live in the US, I am queer, my spouse is trans, and we have two young children. I am sitting right there with you in the fear and grief and every day when I ask myself “is there still hope” I find reasons to say “yes”.

They want us—all of us, not just queer folks—to feel overwhelmed and hopeless, because despair is a tool that keeps people from realizing their power and taking action.

They want us to feel so afraid that we lose our faith in other people and withdraw from our communities, because we are easier to conquer alone.

Do not give them what they want.

Hope is most necessary in the bad times. The ability to imagine a future that is better than things are now is exactly what gives us the power to begin making things better. Our community has been through terrible things before, and they did not lose hope or give up—otherwise we would not be where we are today.

When you start to feel like all the light is being blotted out, turn off the news, put away your phone, and go get in touch with something you love. Go outside and look at the sky, talk to a friend, listen to music, do some small thing to make something better even if it’s just cleaning your kitchen or picking up some litter around the block or returning an extra stranded cart in the grocery store parking lot. Remind your brain that you have agency to make positive change in the world through your actions.

I know it is really hard to pull out of the darkness sometimes. I know there will be days that hope seems like a foolish, naive thing, that despair and distrust seem like the only rational options. But hope is what keeps us alive. Hope is what allows us to save each other.

I wish I could give you a specific article or other source to reassure you that everything is going to be ok, but things are still too in flux day by day. I can tell you that people are already fighting back, in big and little ways, all over this country and the world. These orders and bills are being pushed by a loud but small minority—this is not how the majority of the country feels about trans rights.

Make a plan for staying safe. Reach out to your community. Find music, activities, podcasts, movies, whatever helps you feel uplifted and take mental breaks from dwelling on the news. If you can, find ways to get involved in making things better in whatever big or small way feels doable for you--it may help push back on the doomerism more than you think. And my inbox is open if you need to talk.

I wish I could invite you over for dinner. I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you that things may get hard for the next few years but that does not mean that your life can't still be full of joy and beauty and fulfillment in spite of that.

I’m right there with you. Let’s make it through this together <3

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀⠀vacations w bigbrother!caleb⠀⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: you’re having a summer dinner with your family and friends, but caleb gets angry at an old gossipy lady ( ｡ •` ⤙´• ｡)

tw: reader is implied to be smaller than caleb, reader is very feminine, dumbification, slurs like ‘whore’, possessive!caleb, stepcest, manipulation, dark romance, usage of ‘gege’ and ‘big brother’, slightly inspired by the movie ‘call me by your name’, caleb is kinda aggressive not towards reader tho, etc.

there was this tradition running in your family where you would move to your summer villa for the whole summer season, inviting some of your parents' friends over as well; needless to say, your step brother was also included in the plan.

you were always excited about these, being able to wear your a little too short summer dresses in front of your big brother without question to every dinner, adoring giving yourself a cute look for caleb to see, only wanting to be pretty for your big brother ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

this night was nothing different, you wore this pale pink sundress that left little to the imagination along with some other pink accessories, wearing the necklace he gifted you; you never took it off.

every night your housemaid would set up the long and old wooden table in the patio with refreshing food, all the people in the villa gathering to spend time together after their tiring activities in the beach. you sat in front of caleb as usual, feeling his warm palm rest in the fat of your thigh and caressing it with his thumb in circular motions.

he loved to stare at your angelic-like features while talking about whatever thing you were talking about with your aunt, sometimes forgetting that the rest of your family was there and that he had to keep appearances to any curious eyes.

“so, caleb?” he turns his head way too fast at his name being called, getting out of the trance he got caught on by staring at your red plump lips. “how are you doing with your studies?” a friend from your parents asks, he didn’t even know her name.

“mmh, well, all good. gotta study more than expected but she helps me with that, I have a hard time focusing, you know…” he answers with a boyish smile and tender voice, pinching your skin when pronouncing your name.

“yeah! gege is working really hard for this career, and i try to help him as much as i can” you voice an answer in a sweet tone, him knowing the reality of this said help.

“i see, you two seem really close, if i didn’t know you i’d think you ar—”, “well, that cuts it for tonight i’m afraid” your mother intervenes, knowing how annoying her friend gets regarding this topic. they even argued several times about how your relationship should be checked on since it looked very inappropriate from the outside, but she refused to listen, being a blind believer on your innocent sister-brother interactions, thinking caleb it’s just very clingy and protective about you.

a fierce blush creeps onto your cherub cheeks, feeling embarrassed at anyone questioning your relationship with your gege.

wasn’t it normal, having your big brother hold you for way too long, getting kissed on the lips before going to sleep or even helping you with the strange ache between your thighs when he rubbed himself against you to keep you warm at night?

he made sure to keep you away from anything or anyone vulgar, wanting to cherish your pure mind and thoughts for himself to slowly corrupt, carefully making you believe that good girls don’t go out with boys, don’t kiss anyone but their big brothers and reaching him to ask for help regarding any small issue a normal person could take care of themselves, but not you. you were too stupid ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

and just like that, he made you his little doll for him and him alone, emptying your silly head from anyone but him. you depended on him for anything.

your nipples got hard in the winter? don’t worry, he will slowly rub them while you sat on his lap with his cock buried deep inside you, just to keep you warm. whispering sweet nothings to you while leaving wet kisses along your neck, smiling to himself when listening to your adorable whimpers. he had to use every single trace of self control to not break your puffy pussy in two right there.

he actually never properly fucked you, just played with you like adults do (..◜ᴗ◝..) nothing wrong with that, right?

you wanted to help him focus on his homework? you knew how easily distracted your gege could get and you just wanted to help! (•ᴖ•｡) so he told you to get on your knees, making sure it was on top of some soft cushion, and commanded you to start pampering small kisses on his bulge. just like the ones you gave him all over the face when you were happy to see him ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

so you kept your hands on your lap like the good girl you were to approach his big bulge hiding under his grey sweatpants, leaving sweet little smoochies all over his prince's parts (as he called yours your princess’s parts), and leaving light traces of saliva on the way.

just a few minutes like that, completely focused on the task your gege gave you to please him as you always wanted, and he came undone fully clothed. you looked up at him trough your long lashes, surprised to see that creamy liquid stain his pants, the same one he made you lick from his fingers sometimes before (⁠ᗒ⩊ᗕ ྀི)

he can’t help but laugh fondly at your expression, caressing your cheek before slipping his thumb into your mouth, feeling how you wrapped your warm tongue against the pad of his finger.

now you were both heading to your shared bedroom, the inside of the villa specially silent since everybody else stayed outside, smoking and updating on the latest gossips while drinking the leftover wine.

caleb was mad, how dare that bitch even think about questioning you two? he knew what was best for you, he was your shiny armor knight, your big brother who would always protect you. what was wrong with that?

your tiny heels clicked trough the long and empty halls, chasing after caleb as your short legs could; he was stomping, and he was truly angry.

you never saw him so mad ever since he caught you watching some filthy porn a friend of yours sent you when you told her that you didn’t do that kind of thing since your brother told you to not to. needless to say, he made sure to beat her up real good so she wouldn’t get any close to you, ever. but you didn’t need to know what he did, he’s just protecting you! (づ_ど)

once you catch up with him inside said bedroom you pout, playing with the lacy hem of your dress as you close the door behind you. he sits down on the edge of the bed, holding his head between his hands as he takes deep breaths. he had to take care of that whore later, noted.

“gege? what’s wrong? did i do something bad?” you inquisitively ask, taking careful steps to stand before him, still playing around with your clothes in a nervous manner.

no answer from him, just a deep breath and a big pair of hands holding the back of your thighs to bring you closer, burying his face in the plush of your belly while featherly kissing it.

“no, doll, you did nothing wrong.” he blurs out against the soft fabric of your dress. “it’s just mom’s friend, she made me angry.” you feel his hands creep closer to your ass, holding yourself onto his broad shoulders.

you knew caleb didn’t like the questioning of your relationship, he liked to keep things private, a secret only for you two. your silly head couldn’t find an answer, what were you supposed to say when his skilled fingers removed your cottony panties down and he kept his pinkish gaze on you like that?

“you’re mine, pips, you know everything i do is for your own good.” you knew it, that old lady’s words meant nothing to you. “what would you do without me, hmm?”

you heard the side zipper of the dress and before you know it, you’re fully naked in front of him. it’s not the first time, but you can’t help feeling a little ashamed. he’s so perfect, tall and fit, and you don’t match his toned body.

you cross your arms in front of your breasts, hiding your blushing face underneath your hair, feeling his hand once again come up to your chin to lift it up while the other one holds your wrists a little bit too hard.

“don’t dare hiding from me, princess, you know i love the sight.” he confesses in a breath, restarting the trail of kisses from your soft belly down to your pubes, rubbing the tip of his nose against the little hairs.

you can’t help but whine, readjusting your hands on top of his head, caressing his soft dark locks trough your slim fingers. “gege, don’t do that, you know it feels achy.” you complain in a peachy voice.

he falls on blind ears, paying all of his attention to your princess’s parts, making you separate your legs by holding your inner thighs before lowering his head to clit level, smothering the growing bud with open-mouthed kisses.

he slowly toyed with your dripping entrance, circling the ring muscle with his index finger while paying attention to your pearl, lost in the sweet and sour flavor of yours. “fuck, doll, what do i have to do to make everyone understand that you’re my good girl, hmm?”

you don’t even listen to him, too caught up in the sensation of said finger caressing your velvety walls, throwing your head back while you pushed your hips closer to his face, letting out an adorable moan when feeling a second one peeking in.

“i see, you’re too stupid to answer that.” he said in a condescending way, fucking you with his long fingers slow but deep, even biting your clit at times. “don’t you see you need me to do everything for you?” one harsh thrust, reaching that gummy spot. “to tie your shoes, to wash your hair, even to dress you up in the morning?”

you were a moaning mess, your hair falling like a cascade at your back and sticking to your sweaty forehead, your toes curling at the way his skilled fingers toyed with your weak spot, feeling how he curved them inside you, that strange sensation knotting in your belly. “gege, i feel weird again, stop, stop” the tears in the corner of your eyes fall away to your neck.

“let go f’me, angel, you know your big brother likes it.” and he loved it, the taste of your juices, sweet enough to be addictive. before you realize you were creaming his fingers, feeling a strong arm wrap around your waist to keep you from falling. “good girl, you did so good for me”.

his murmurs fall quiet when he laps at your pussy to take every single drop of you in his mouth, moaning at the taste. your head falls on top of his, trying to catch your breath while he wraps you with both arms and lifts you up, heading to the bathroom to clean you up.

he first washed your sweaty body and clothed you with one of his huge t shirts, you falling asleep mid-bath and him taking you to bed carefully, making sure you were comfortable before taking care of his hard dick and rubbing himself against your discarded panties, staining them with cum not many minutes later (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

he threw them inside one of his designated drawers and hugged your smaller frame into his naked chest, drifting to sleep.

your big brother loved you so so much!

a/n: let me know if you liked it, i want feedback! also, idk if this was too long, i got carried away hehe (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

— masterlist.

[rafesangelita]

omg loveeee sheep!reader <3333

love how you said Rafe gets annoyed with all the stuffies on her bed, I can just imagine he's lying back on her bed and she's on top, kissing him and trying to grind on his thigh, but even though he thinks he threw all the stuffies on the floor he keeps finding more like digging into his back and getting in his way and he gets frustrated and makes her grind on one of her big teddy bears until she cums in her panties omggggg

warnings: mean!rafe, kissing, heavy petting, dry humping, thigh riding, rafe curses at reader in frustration, riding a stuffed animal lol, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, voyeurism, male masturbation

a/n: first fic with sheep!reader, i’m so happy that so many of you loved her <3 leave me some req’s!

“fuck— hold on,” you shyly pulled away from your boyfriend’s lips, watching as he threw yet another stuffed animal onto the floor, “this is ridiculous, you know that?” he pulled you back down, his large hands palming and groping the globes of your ass from underneath your skirt. “but you got all of those for me..” you whimpered, dragging your hips against his toned thigh. rafe kissed you deeply, the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth making a surprised ‘oh!’ fall from your lips. you were so innocent in his eyes, he loved to do things that would make your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“yeah, but do you have to have all of them on your bed? i could build you a shelf or ‘somethin—” just then, he adjusted himself with you still pathetically trying to hump his thigh when another stuffie digged into his ribs. “goddammit, y/n!” your eybrows knitted together in worry, his tone making you jump. he cursed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat up, taking you with him. “m’sorry, i didn’t mean to yell at you.” he stroked the side of your face, eyes falling onto the huge teddy bear that sat at the corner of your bed. “matter of fact, why don’t you grab that one there at the end?”

you looked back at the teddy bear rafe won you from the fair before you two had officially started dating. “aw, i love this one.” you got up, carrying it over as rafe patted the empty spot next to him. “yeah, i know. you love all of them right?” you nodded, a little confused as to where he was taking this. “well since you love them so much, and they keep appearing out of nowhere, you could hump that instead.” you blinked at his words, your underwear damp with your need for release. “you’re telling me you’ve never done that before?” rafe whispered.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t. you remembered grinding on the same teddy bear the night rafe got it for you. he had kissed before letting you go inside, the kiss being so dreamy, your mind couldn’t help but wander at what else he was really good at. you had took the bear to your room that night and pretended it was rafe instead. “look at your face.. you have done it before,” a wicked smile adorned his mouth. “show me how you did it.” rafe was palming himself through his shorts when you straddled the damned thing.

you started moving, a whine emitting from your pretty little mouth as you finally got the friction you were looking for. he continued to rub himself over his cargos, a sigh leaving his lips as he grew harder by the minute. rafe loved hearing those moans and whimpers of yours, the sound making his eyebrows knit together. soon, he had taken himself out of his underwear, shamelessly stroking his cock as tears rolled down your cheeks in frustration. even though you were still making yourself feel good, you just felt so empty. “rafe..” you cried, “please, i need you inside..” hearing you beg was his favorite.

“me too, baby, i’m fuckin’ aching,” he groaned, you looked down at his mean, throbbing cock, “make yourself cum in those panties and maybe i’ll give it to ‘ya.” determined, you moved your hips faster, your glossy lips swollen from biting on them so hard. your nails dug into the soft material of your teddy bear, your peak starting to form in your tummy. your thighs ached for a break, but the need to have rafe’s cock fucking you stupid was surpassing any kind of discomfort you felt. “ah, fuck!” rafe had to stop touching himself, the only place he wanted his cum to be was inside of those soft, slick walls of your cunt.

not being able to resist himself any longer, rafe leaned forward, taking one of your tits in his mouth as he lapped at the sensitive bud. you nearly screamed at the added stimulation, cradling his head to keep him close while your high washed over you in pure ecstasy. rafe watched you tremble and shake, his hands coming up to still drag your cunt across the teddy bear despite your pleas for him to stop. he loved to see you overstimulated. “n-no more!” you gasped. rafe ignored you, not stopping until you came again, a mess gushing from between your thighs.

you couldn’t help but double over, falling into your boyfriend’s chest as he shushed your cries. “fuck, you always do so good for me.” he praised, leaving open mouth kisses up your shoulder. you fell limp in his arms, small pants leaving your lips as he stood up, throwing you back down on your bed. you hissed, your hand coming up to hold your back. “shit! did i hurt you, baby?” rafe turned you over, his eyes falling on a stuffed animal with hard plastic eyes. “that’s it— i’m making you that shelf!” he scolded.

[sanguineterrain]

Hello sanne! I have a request, if it inspires you: what about reader who's been hurt and has amnesia when they wake up. And Jason is there and reader gets all flustered because pretty boy alert!! Pretty boy is speaking gently to them!! And in actuality Jason and reader are together. I hope that made sense 😭 love your writing so so much!!

this is such a sweet request!

jason todd x gn!reader. tw medical setting, reader is on pain meds and has been in an accident, major major fluff, established relationship.

****

The first thing you notice is that your mouth tastes... not good.

You try to swallow and clear out the taste. All that happens is a useless smack of your tongue. Your throat is too dry for any swallowing to happen.

"...been out for about twelve hours. Yeah, I've been here the whole time."

You're pretty sure that you know that voice. You're drawing a blank on that voice's name, but you swear you know the voice.

"They're awake. Yeah, bye."

It's deep and warm and soft and yes. You definitely know the voice.

Okay. Opening your eyes.

You do so with substantial effort. Your vision is bleary. All you can make out are blobs of gray. You've got a lot of eye boogies in your eyes. You can feel them.

But you're not really sure about where your hands are at this moment in time, so the eye boogies will have to camp out for a little longer.

"Hey." The bed shifts. That warm voice gets closer. "Hey, hey. Y'thirsty?"

A straw taps your lips. You clumsily take it and drink until it gurgles and there's no more water.

"Yeah, I'll bet you're thirsty. Want more?"

You shake your head. A cool, rough hand pets your forehead. Oh, that's nice. That's very nice. The bedside manner in this hospital is impeccable. A little forward, but you don't mind. The voice and his hand are both very polite.

Time to try to actually see some shit. You hone in on your vision, putting every iota of brainpower into processing what your eyes are telling your brain.

A figure. A man. Huzzah!

Oh. Oh, wow. A very beautiful man. A big, hulking, beautiful man.

He's young, boyishly handsome. His eyes are bright. A scar is etched from the top of his right temple to his lip. There's a white streak in his dark hair. Is that a trend now? You can't remember.

"Where 'm I?" you ask.

"You're in the Batcave. How much do you remember, honey?" the gorgeous, beautiful, dreamboat nurse asks.

Well, you remember being in a car, and then being ejected from that car, and then hot, blinding pain, and then... waking up.

"Car accident?" you manage.

Pretty Nurse nods. Is he a nurse? He looks more like a biker, with his leather jacket and empty holsters. He looks like he could pin you down with one arm and—

Whoa. Chill.

"Yeah, kinda. There was an explosion. You hit your head pretty hard." He strokes the back of your head, frowning. "How do you feel?"

You feel like your head has an anvil tied to it. But it's okay, because look at this biker-nurse! Wowza!

He takes your hand (you have hands! Huzzah!) and strokes your knuckles with his thumb, which is fine, actually, because he has really nice eyes. You want to tell him.

"You h've nice eyes," you say.

Pretty Nurse blinks, looking startled. His cheeks go a little pink. "Oh. Um, thanks, baby. Y'sweet."

Baby? Do you really have that much rizz as a medical patient? You can't imagine how irresistible you must be when you haven't been in an explosion.

But then everything shatters when you look down and see a silver band on his hand. What the shit! He's married? Or engaged, at least. Son of a biscuit.

And he's flirting with you? What a pig!

You snatch your hand back, suddenly sour. Pretty Nurse raises his eyebrows.

"What's a'matter?"

"You have a ring," you say, voice dripping in contempt.

"I—" He looks down. "Uh, well, yeah. I do."

Devastating. "If you're taken, you shouldn't be flirting with me, jerk."

He squints. "Wh—oh. Oh. Huh."

Pretty Biker Nurse looks like you've just said something funny. You don't see what's so funny about infidelity. May God strike him down!

He smiles coyly. "D'you know who I am, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you say, glowering. "Y'just a no-good philanderer who should be ashamed of hi'self. Don't care how handsome you are; I won't enter your web of lies!"

He laughs, bright and sweet. Damn him! You need a different nurse. This one is the epitome of temptation.

"Oh, baby. Oh, you're too cute. Can I take your hand?"

"Not if you're gonna flirt more," you say, lifting your chin. "Dirtbag."

"Your moral code is incredible, honey. Good to know I'll never have anything to worry about, though I never doubted you. Can I show you something, though?"

He lifts your hand and on your finger is a gold band. More delicately shaped than his ring, but similar.

"Oh my God," you say, panic growing. "I'm cheating on my husband."

He laughs louder this time. "Your fiancé, actually. Wedding isn't till August. And no, honeylove. You're not cheatin', 'cause I'm right here."

He leans in and kisses your forehead. Your hackles raise for a moment until... wait...

"You're my fiancé?" you ask, eyes huge.

He smiles shyly. "In the flesh. Y'remember my name?"

You feel like it's a J name. "J..."

"Jason," he says gently. "Yeah, wow. They got you on some pretty strong meds, huh? Leslie said you should start to remember more stuff in a day."

Jason. Pretty Biker Nurse Jason. Holy moly. He's engaged to you? About to marry you?

"You are so pretty," you blurt.

That makes Jason more shy. He smiles like he's done something he's not supposed to do. "Not as pretty as you, honey pie."

"No, you're... I mean, wow. Sorry I called you a jerk. How did I get with you? That's crazy. You're fine as hell."

Jason snorts, wide shoulders shaking. His cheeks are red. "Jesus, you're shameless."

Well, yeah. You're still not sure this isn't a dream. You have to let your fiancé know exactly what you think about him.

You prepare to tell him something smooth and romantic. Something about how kissable he looks.

"Y'look like a sexy biker."

Hm. Not exactly what you had in mind. Your brain feels like a blue raspberry slushie.

Jason grins. "Oh, yeah? That why you been starin' at me? Didn't know you had a thing for bikers. You're terrified of going on my motorcycle."

How does he know that? It's true; you like bikers from afar but you're not about to get on a death machine, thanks.

"You can rev my engine," you say, head slumping against the pillow.

"Oh my God," Jason says, clearly delighted. "Don't think I've ever seen this reaction to pain meds."

"Can't believe we're engaged," you say again. "How'd we even meet?"

"Well, I'm a vigilante of sorts, and the first time we met was after I saved you from a mugging. And then we kinda just... kept running into each other. You bought me coffee without realizing who I was. And we, uh, fell in love. As people do."

"You proposed to me in Spain," you say suddenly, the memory rushing back. "You... you wanted to prove you wouldn't put work above us."

Jason nods, lacing your and his fingers together. "Yeah, that's right. Three weeks in Spain." He pulls out his phone and shows you the lockscreen. It's of you two. Jason has sunglasses on. You're smiling. You can't remember ever smiling like that before.

Tears suddenly spring to your eyes, emotion smacking into you like an eighteen-wheeler. Jason leans in, concerned.

"Baby? Hey, what's wrong? Something hurts?" he asks, inspecting your head.

Your mouth quivers. "You... you love me so much."

Jason stops, tilting his head. "I... uh, yeah. 'Course I do. You're the person I love the most in the world."

That makes you cry, tears running down your cheeks. Jason's eyes widen in alarm.

"Sweetheart? What's—hey, it's okay. Why're y'crying, huh?"

He brushes your tears away with his thumbs, cradling your face. You sniffle.

"I'm s-sorry I called you a dirtbag," you blubber. "Y'not a dirtbag. You love me so much."

"Oh-ho, oh, honey. Baby, you've been unconscious for twelve hours. You're under heavy medication. I know you didn't recognize me, it's okay. Trust me, I've been called far worse," Jason says tenderly.

Dear God, you're a beast. What kind of person doesn't recognize their own fiancé?! You cry harder.

"I should've remembered you! I'm a bad fiancé," you wail.

"Aw, sweetheart. No, no, it's okay. C'mere."

Jason scoots you over slightly and pulls you into his arms. You cry into his shoulder, slobbering all over his sexy biker jacket. He rubs circles on your back.

"You're really cute and nice and I'm glad y'marrying me," you say, muffled in his shoulder.

Jason hums, the sound vibrating through you. "I'm really happy to be marrying you, sweetheart. You rock my world."

You sniff. "Really?"

"Mmhm." Jason kisses the side of your neck. "How 'bout you sleep a little more, hm? I bet you're exhausted."

Now that he mentions it, you do feel pretty worn-out. Especially after crying. And almost getting blown up.

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Absolutely, honey. I swear."

Jason eases you onto your back. Your eyes are beginning to feel heavy.

"Sleep, beautiful. I'm right here."

[lilybecca1]

Wait, Bakudeku is literally considered canon in the Japanese fandom???!!! Like no joke, in Japan Bkdk being canon is actually a widely accepted thing?? Like, let me get this straight.

The manga was meant for Japanese audience mainly, so the romance would also be something that is suited for Japanese audience, not the direct and straight forward approach that non-japanese shows have when it comes to romance. And you guys remember the "Rest of our lives" scene? Well yeah, that's actually a marriage proposal in Japan. In Japan they don't say Will you marry me? Some of the most common proposal lines are literally:

“Let’s spend the rest of our lives together.”

“Having you by my side is what completes me.”

“I can't imagine my life without you in it.”

“I wish I could give you everything, but I hope that this ring is enough.”

"I will protect you forever."

Like bro what?? These are literally Bkdk coded. Like Izuku fr thought once that he can't imagine his world without Kacchan in it. And the “I wish I could give you everything, but I hope that this ring is enough.”?? Replace ring with hero suit and you get the freaking ending of the manga. And I will protect you forever is also so them like I just can't yjxnsjxjnxjdkkxkxkxkxkkdk

I know we were all waiting for Horikoshi to make Bkdk canon in some big way like at the end they're revealed to be together or some confession or some shit but we do forget sometimes that this is set in Japanese culture and in Japan things are very different. Much more subtle and way less straight forward and obvious. Most japanese husbands and wives don't even normally say I love you to each other, because they express love through different ways, like action. And that is very hard for our non-japanese brains to understand cause it's just so different over there and instead of being expressive, love in Japanese culture is more about gratitude expressed through actions and devotion. It's much more symbolic.

So then when we think back on all those Cherry Blossom official arts, well NOW it doesn't seem too far fetched to think it might mean something, does it? For us, all these little hints and symbolism are just that. Hints and symbolism. But for Japanese people? They know how to read it very well and it's common in Japan to express certain things through symbolism. Like "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" Is a full on marriage proposal line. It doesn't seem like it to us, but to them yes. Also let's not forget we literally have a scene with Deku looking out at the moon and Bakugo too 😭

So, if we look at it in a Japanese sense, and that in japaese culture, love is expressed in a more symbolic way, and through actions and devotion, then it isn't so hard to believe anymore that Bakugo and Deku are actually fully implied canon in the manga. I mean talk about devotion..Bakugo literally spent 8 YEARS to help fund that suit for Izuku. He took "actions speak louder than words" fcking seriously.

Like would it be better if Horikoshi actually made them say they were in love or made then kiss or something? Yeah, but realistically speaking that probably wasn't gonna happen either way. And the fact that the Japanese fandom, who the manga is literally meant for, is fr congratulating Bakudeku for being canon!!!! Like y'all if the japanese fandom thinks that they're canon then it's safe to say that they are. Because in a sense, Japanese people can read and understand that "language" behind those hints better than us. And if they say it's canon, then I bet my ass it is.

TOO BAD I AIN'T FCKING JAPANESE

Like seriously why is it so hard being European. We wouldn't believe something was true until the cold hard evidence was literally laid right in front of our freaking eyes.

[henrycangelbaby]

Thinking about John Price and his cute little assistant (reader) who ends up pregnant. 

A/N: Guys i was inspired while scrolling on the john price x reader tag, this legit came to me as a vision and now i have to write it (I plan on expanding on this idea so just stay with me!!!!)

Imagine being John Price's cute little assistant, just the sweetest little thing that John is kinda obsessed with. Like don't get me wrong she is amazing at her job, smart, put together and well organized and John does feel that her addition has been a positive one, taking some pressure off his shoulders and making sure his team is always prepared for whatever they are doing. She is very good at what she does, but that doesn’t stop John from admiring her. He knows he shouldn't be bit, he can't help it, she's young and sweet and a little bit innocent and he just wants to protect and love her all the time. 

In the beginning she was shy, only addressing him as sir and knocking on his door hesitantly whenever she needed to speak to him but gradually their boundaries became less and less. More often than not she works out of his office, whether he’s there or not, he insists on buying her an early lunch when she lets slip that she didn't have breakfast that morning. He has even picked her up from a night out once or twice, a little bit tipsy and calling the most trusted person she can think of that just happened to be her boss. He takes care of her as well, helping her get her makeup and clothes off before tucking her into her bed with a bottle of water and pain killers for the morning. He doesn't mention it when he sees her next, knowing how embarrassed she will be when he tells her the loneliness her tipsy self admitted. 

When she starts to get sick John is having absolutely none of it, driving her home and ordering her to take some time off (he even visits later that night to bring her some soup for her stomach). He doesn't expect her to look so sad when she comes back supposedly better from her “flu”, he doesn't expect to see her eyes shine with tears when he asks “what's wrong babygirl?”.  He sits them down on the couch in his office together, putting an arm over her and pulling her close for comfort. He certainly does not expect her to look up at him with those shiny wet eyes and admit she did something bad before crying that she's pregnant. It’s news to John who never even considered that his girl would be dating (let alone sleeping with) people. When he vocalizes this and she admits that her baby daddy isn't a very good guy, it's over for John. 

Suddenly he's all over her, promising to be there for her, that she can come to him whenever she needs. And he actually means it. Suddenly she’s staying in the spare bedroom in his house, not only does it have more room but John can keep an eye on her. She entirely moves into his office working on his desk with him, he gets her a comfy chair so she can be supported in the later months. He gets up to hold her hair back when she has morning sickness and ensures she gets enough nutritious food each day. When she starts showing, oh my god John doesn't know what to do with himself. That little bump peaking out of her tight skirts makes him foam at the mouth. Of course he prioritizes her comfort, insisting she change shoes and stop wearing those uncomfortable looking heels, but he keeps her in her formal work attire for just a little longer, just so he can see her cute tummy poking out of it. 

Speaking of her bump. He simply can't resist putting his hand on it. He feels so protective over it, best believe he goes feral if anyone tries to touch it. Hell all but breaks loose when his precious baby looks up at him with teary eyes telling him how uncomfortable she was when some rando put their hand on her stomach, (someone definitely lost their job that day). He eventually has her sitting in his lap, cooing over her and reassuring her that they won't get in trouble, that really he is the big boss anyways. He just loves having her there, perched on top of him he rests his head on her shoulder both arms coming around to cradle her now bigger bump. 

John mandates maternity leave when she starts getting big, maybe around seven months when she spends a lot of her time complaining about back aches and swollen ankles, of course he does what he can to help her but it gets to the point where he knows that she should be resting. He has to basically forcibly put her on leave, reassuring her panics about money by promising to take care of her. And oh boy does he. He gives her foot massages and holds her belly, when she starts outgrowing her clothes best believe he would hand over any of his so she can fit in them more comfortably. He's just all over her, unable to stomach the fact that soon she will have a real live baby. That baby is about to become the most protected baby in the entire world.

That's all I have for now because I fear if I begin rambling about the rest of the 141 neither of us might make it out alive. (just know this baby is going to be so damn spoiled it’s crazy). 

[cyberjam]

ATSV HEADCANON: they have a crush on you . . . ☆

warnings - none really, super fluffy and adorable :), semi-proof read so i apologize for grammatical errors if there are any! no use of name or y/n, gender-neutral reader!

word count - 2.1k

main masterlist <3

☆ . . . miles morales

I imagine you two already being well-acquainted friends with each other once he realized his feelings for you. For quite some time he had a crush on gwen but now his heart strings are pulling him towards you, so he's struggling when it comes to addressing his feelings.

If you're in the same room as Miles, he will stare. Any conversation that he was having before is long forgotten and all that's on his mind is you.

Miles doesn't need to study, he's one of the top students in school. But he continues to go on study dates with you because he likes being in your presence and sharing his headphones with you while eating yummy pastries.

He has an entire journal dedicated to you. Said journal includes: small journal entries of his day with you, little quotes of the funny/cute things you've said that stuck with him throughout the day, candid drawings of you that he created whenever you two hung out, cute sketches of you and him stargazing or slow-dancing together (and other secret drawings of him saving you as spider-man and cradling your body in his big strong arms but we won't get into that...)

Miles really can't get enough of you. He laughs extra loud at your jokes even if they aren't funny, his heartbeat quickens at the mention of your name, he'll offer you his jacket even if you don't need it, he always smiles when something reminds him of you, he'll share his headphones with you and shyly ask if you and him can make a "study playlist" (he listens to it at night while drawing you), and overall is just madly in love with you.

He wants to be with you more than anything, he's just struggling to find the right time to ask you. <3

"Hey, don't touch that! It's- No! It's not a diary, it's just...secret."

☆ . . . gwen stacy

She's pretty awkward herself. You were assigned to be partners for a project that would play a big part in your final grade, she came off slightly cold and seemed to be annoyed at your presence which made your relationship start off rocky. In reality she was just stressed, juggling her spider duties, getting kicked out of her house, and then school on top of that, it was just a lot. But when you made the effort to plan things and work around her busy schedule (that you didn't really know anything about) she started to become grateful for you.

Your parents welcomed her kindly each time she came over to study and whenever she would leave she was happy with a full belly and a sore face from smiling and laughing with you all night. The project was supposed to be done by the end of the semester but you and gwen were able to finish it the first month you got it. That didn't stop her bi-weekly visits, that then turned weekly, until she was suddenly walking home with you everyday, from and to school.

She likes to compare hands, shoes, and height just to see the difference in sizes. On walks back from school she'll give you a piggyback ride if you ask nicely. She also likes laying her head in your lap, if you run your fingers through her hair she'd be fast-asleep within 5 minutes.

You and her tend to share your oversized clothes together, You always wash her jackets/sweaters after you wear them, which she absolutely loves. She's fallen asleep curled up in your hoodie, inhaling the scent and listening to whatever song you rambled about the previous morning on repeat until she finally asks you to just make her a playlist. Hobie definitely knows about you, only because she slipped up by saying too much.

She enjoys staying over your house during rainy days. She tends to tense up whenever you're watching tv together on your bed and your head falls on her shoulder. During missions in other spider-verses gwen has taken little souvenirs from different worlds and given them to you, she always does it in a nonchalant way as if she wasn't grinning ear to ear on her way back, excited to see how you'd react.

You don't have sleepovers often but when you do they always seem more intimate than your usual hangouts. When you wake up and see gwen flustered on the other side of the bed you never understand why, not knowing that when you were fast asleep she woke up cuddled into you, nuzzling her body into yours.

"I-uhm. I-uh just had a weird dream. Nothing to worry about, heh.."

☆ . . . pavitr prabhakar

It's very obvious he has a crush on you, it might as well be written on his forehead. He follows you around like a lost puppy. He's constantly offering to carry your books, opening doors for you, paying for your snacks, and even giving you hand massages when you've been writing an essay for too long. He's just completely whipped for you and you're not even dating (yet).

You were a transfer student and he was assigned to show you around Mumbai. He found himself getting giddy at your cute reactions to the different sights he took you to. He adored how you were filled with so much curiosity and wonder, the awestruck look in your eyes when you saw the pretty lights at night and just how genuinely excited you seemed to stay and explore Mumbai. Since then, he's been glued to your side.

He's such a gentleman, you can tell he was raised right. Whenever you're talking his full attention is on you, nobody else matters in this moment but you. He'll even get a bit upset if someone cuts you off, ignoring whatever they're saying and urging you to continue. His legs feel wobbly around you, he gets dizzy at the sight of you, and he feels like he's floating whenever you smile at him.

There have been multiple occasions where you've caught him staring at you, depending on how he feels that day he'll either smirk and gently wave or quickly turn away with a blush on his face. He gushes about you to Hobie and Miles all of the time. They know so much about you and they've never even met you.

A true romantic. He buys you a singular flower one week out of the day, always explaining the meaning and where they originate from. (all of them are a variation of romance/love)

He tends to lean into you whenever you speak. More than one person has pointed out that you both tend to mirror each other's actions. He's feigning for your touch more than anything, a simple brush of your shoulders and he's full on putty in your hands.

He won't outright confront you when he figures out you like him, instead he'll invite you on a nightly walk. Taking you up to a rooftop with a gorgeous view, and gently resting his jacket on your shoulders. You'll sit for a while enjoying the scenery before he turns to you and says...

"a person as beautiful as yourself shouldn't wander this world alone.."

☆ . . . hobie brown

What a nightmare. He is constantly teasing and flirting with you. Always doubling over in laughter when he sees you get all flustered and the words you so badly wanna spew at him get stuck in your throat.

I imagine you both to be spider-people, you're a little more stuck-up than he is which is why he likes to tease you so much. Little by little your reactions fueled something deeper in him. He no-longer found himself flirting with you because he liked seeing how aggravated he could get you but because that was his way of approaching you and saying all of the things he wanted to while being able to play it off as a joke.

Besides teasing you relentlessly, he can be really caring and attentive to you when he wants to be. If you're in the medic he'll stop by pretty often to make sure you're okay. The only reason you found out is because you woke up to him fast asleep next to your bedside, feet propped on your bed and his vest laid across his torso like a blanket.

He'll eat the foods on your plate that you don't like. If you fall asleep he'll lay his vest onto your body and even move your position if it looks uncomfortable. If he senses danger before you he'll move you of the way as fast as he possibly can, but if he's not close enough he'll give you a heads up before anyone else. He tends to stare at you sometimes, always smiling gently to himself.

When you two get closer as friends he'll play any song on his guitar if you ask him nicely. He'll even give you lessons if you really want them. Carefully throwing his guitar over your torso, he brings his much larger hands to yours. You can feel his chest against your back, and the waves of his warm breath on your neck as he teaches you how to play. He'll also let you wear his jacket, saying it looks better on you than him. He might let you keep it, only in exchange for one of your jackets. (he sleeps with your jacket on, it makes him feel close to you.)

Hobie often checks up on you during missions, sometimes saying teasing phrases to get you riled up but mostly to make sure you're holding up okay. "you alright there, peaches? you took quite the hit."

Once he finds out you like him, he eases up on the teasing, but he doesn't refrain from dropping subtle hints of his knowingness that you like him. He's just waiting for you to finally say something.

"Yknow, if i ain't know any better i'd say you were doing this 'cause you like me."

☆ . . . miguel o' hara

You worked beside him in Alchemax, the two of you were assigned as partners. At first he didn't care much for you, simply telling you to stay out of his way and that he didn't need any help, but after Lyla practically forced him to be a cordial lab partner and work with you, he started to take a liking towards you. Sadly, it took months for him to tolerate you and even longer for him to like you.

Although he was quite stuck-up and practically seemed on edge most of the time, you were able to break through those confined walls and have a comfortable-playful work relationship with him. Every-time you made a joke or a light quip about his attitude he'd always respond with sarcasm, still not being able to hide the tiny smile that graced his face at your foolish acts.

He always runs his projects by you before submitting them. (and then lyla to triple check) He'll stop by and pick up empanadas from his favorite store, always boasting about how it's the best in Nueva York and you'll never taste anything better. Eventually he brings in a hefty share of empanadas that you two share over lunch time, your conversation flowing naturally without the teasing but with a fluffier feeling flowing through the air.

He pretends to be annoyed when he catches you over-working but he's genuinely worried for you. Always shaking his head in a disapproving way when he finds you fast asleep on your desk, papers scattered, and drool falling past your lips. Quietly scolding you in spanish before throwing his lab coat over your shoulders and organizing your papers neatly.

He tends to act unbothered when you do something that shows you care for him but in reality it makes his heart stutter and his stomach feel all loopy. He hates it because it makes him feel like a middle-schooler when they get their first crush but another part of him absolutely adores it and his main motivation to get up to go to work in the morning is you, although he'll never admit it.

If a co-worker is ever rude to you he will be the first to defend you, not hesitating to get in their face with a nasty scowl painting his features. On Friday's he made it his personal mission to walk you home, you two slowly walk side-by-side, quietly laughing to yourselves as you reminisce on lab accidents and old memories. There's a slight gleam in his eyes when you make it to your apartment door. He turns to you almost hesitantly, before stepping closer to you. He whispers a question, so quiet and soft you almost wouldn't be able to hear it.

"Can I kiss you?"

omg i hope you guys liked it! requests are still open btw and thank you for reading! <3

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