#my brain is fried bc i studied all day

[faaun]

man the perpetual all nighters have been doing wonders for my skin

[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

[webslingingslasher]

Not to be annoying but I rlly hope u write some kind of blurb for the jealous frat!Peter when someone flirts w reader after they are officially boyfriend girlfriend bc u wanna assess what kind of relationship they'll have after all the emotional trauma and angstttttt (idk if u got my first ask though)

*cleaning out my inbox*

kisses scattered across your face woke you up, hair tickled your nose, and you showed you were awake by lightly pushing on peter’s shoulder. it's just too early.

'can't snooze me, trouble. you're the one that told me to wake you up.' another round of kisses, your wake up call isn't that terrible. 'c'mon, up and at 'em. you've got a midterm to study for, leslie's waiting for you.'

his reasoning doesn't make you move any quicker, it was on leslie for choosing saturday morning as peak study time. you weren't even able to hang at the party last night, instead you hunkered down in peter's room and lightly woke when he crawled into bed around one to tug you into his side.

'it's so early.' peter pouts against your cheek, 'you'll survive. you've been putting in overtime this week. i swear that you've hung out with leslie everyday.' it's true, and like peter said before your first study session 'you'll feel your brain grow, super proud of you.' there's no question you'll ace the midterm.

'promise me you'll let me sleep in tomorrow?' a flurry of kisses, you savor them, you know it's the last attack of the day. 'you got it.'

---

peter thought you could use a little pick me up, so, he gladly walked into the library doors with your favorite fast food. it might've been slightly selfish, because he knows he just won himself some brownie points.

it took him a minute, but he found you. back in the study section, lightly kicking your feet under the table. you were nodding your head while chewing on the end of your pen, peter's heart picked up; he couldn't wait to see the look on your face.

you laugh, he smiles. peter moves around a bookcase and comes to a sudden stop. sitting right next to you, was a guy. he had your total attention, no other sign of people around you, peter couldn't even try to pretend it had turned into a last minute group session.

peter finds it hard to swallow, it's not that you're not allowed to hang out with guys, it's the fact that you lied about it. was there ever a leslie, or was it code for this guy the whole time?

the answer will be in your reaction, and he's about to catch you. you don't see him coming, your eyes flash to the bag on the table then to the hand setting it down. you almost burst at the seams, a surprise visit and your favorite food.

'peter!' you wince at your tone, a nasty look from the table next to you gets a silent apology. 'what are you doing here?' you're already digging through the bag, you miss the inspection he's doing on your study partner. you also miss the way he's avoiding peter's eyes.

'just wanted to say hi,' you chew on a fry and hold your mouth closed while you pucker, a chaste kiss. 'hi.' you swallow and tap on the arm next to you, peter follows the motion closely. 'have you met peter yet?'

'uh, no.' he scoots closer to the table, you shrug and look up at peter. he has his focus on leslie, it seems more intimidating than friendly. when your study buddy looks to you for help, peter loses it.

'trouble? wanna come talk to me for a minute?' you frown, your fries are at the perfect temperature. 'but, you-' the look in peter's eyes tells you he isn't playing, a sense of urgency has you scooting your chair back.

the second you're ducked behind a shelf, it spits out. 'who the fuck is that?' peter's tone has you drawing your head back, it's sudden and aggressive. 'who, leslie?' he laughs, 'nice try, who is he?'

it feels accusatory, you take a slight step back. 'that's leslie, peter.' he snorts, 'and you left out the fact he's a guy?' the reason for his sudden change makes you feel dirty, you don't like how he's directing his words.

'i didn't feel like it had to be spesified.' peter nods sarcastically, 'so i tell you i'm hanging out with... jordan, and i've been around them for hours a day, for the entire week then you find out it's a chick and you wouldn't mind? not even a little bit?'

'it depends on what you're doing with her.' a dry laugh, 'you knew exactly what the fuck you were doing with that name shit. don't stand here and tell me i'm the idiot.'

he's making you feel sad, you don't understand how peter could think of you like that. 'i don't understand why you're so upset.' peter tugs at his snapback, scratching at his curls, he replaces it.

'because you're my fucking girlfriend.'

your arms cross, 'so i can no longer hang out with any other guy?' maybe you were being a little difficult, but he's the one that implied you were cheating, or at the very least capable of it.

'jesus christ, that's what you jump to? no, honey-' the name sounded sour, '-it's the fact that you knew i'd think he was a girl and you didn't try to change that.'

'i don't see why it matters.' peter feels like he's talking in circles and he really wants to break from the conversation because he can feel his frustration building, he's about to start saying things he'll regret.

'it doesn't!' you pull on his arm with wide eyes, your head spins to look around. peter brings himself to a whisper shout, 'it doesn't fucking matter, but it starts to matter when you lie to me.'

'don't make it seem like i'm cheating on you.' you tried to ease him down, like the two had nothing in common. it was the wrong choice of words, a fire blazed in peter's eyes. you stepped back when peter pointed a finger at you, for once, he's making you feel really small.

'you're the one who brought up cheating. go back to your fucking friend, i'm done.'

you try to grab onto his wrist, but peter shakes you off like you're nothing. 'peter,' he has no interest in what you have to say, you can't follow him, he's too quick. 'peter!'

when he's out of sight you look down at the ground and sigh. peter was right, you knew what you were doing by alluding to the fact leslie was a girl. and peter doesn't care when you hang out with other guys, but because you left that part out, you've been lying by omission and it makes everything seem worse than it is.

you just don't know what he meant by 'i'm done,' and you really hope it just pertains to the conversation. either way, you shuffle back to your table with a tail between your legs and hope to god peter would let you apologize.

---

gentle knocks at the frat door, you were scared that if you gave peter a heads up, he'd bolt.

'uh oh, you're in trouble.' ethan has a smug look, it tells you that he's been preparing for you to show up. 'how much?' you need to know your chances before you can think of your plea bargain.

ethan wavers, 'he was... upset.' you hold your face between your hands as you slide in, mumbling out a 'fuck,' before building confidence to move up the stairs.

you lightly tap on your boyfriend's door, when there's no response you slowly twist the door knob. peter's lying on his bed, ankles crossed while a book covers his face.

'peter?' the door clicks shut. you timidly step forward, 'petey?' nothing from him, just a slight adjustment and he's back to reading. 'did we break up?'

the book drops, you're looking right at him. 'no, we didn't break up.' you can breathe a little bit better even if he went back to glaring at words, the main anxiety was flushed. 'okay, good.' you reach the end of his bed, rubbing at his shin you try to soften him up.

'i love you.' peter has a very unimpressed glance when you capture his total attention by taking a seat, pushing into his thighs. 'i don't know why i didn't tell you leslie was a guy, i mean, i honestly forgot but when you started saying she... i didn't correct you.' your fingers twiddle with the band of his watch, 'and i don't know why, i guess i wasn't thinking about it like that. but yeah, i'd feel a bit cheated if you did the same to me.'

'you keep saying cheat.'

cheating is almost number one in things you should never do to your partner, but for some reason, it really hits something in peter. just saying the word, out of context, has him pulling from your touch.

'peter, c'mon, stop it. you know what i mean. i'd never, ever cheat on you. i love you too much. i was on the spot and i thought you were implying i was cheating, and i was trying to say i wasn't cheating but then i think you took that as a guilty conscious coming forward and admitting i was cheat-'

'please stop saying cheating. please.'

you hold your mouth shut, a sheepish look crosses over your face. 'sorry.' it comes out as a mumble, it's an uncomfortable silence. you don't really know what to say, or do. you smash repetitive clicks on the side button of peter's watch, when you take a peek, he's watching your hands.

you're really trying, but you need to wash away any idea of it from his head. 'it's just that i never want you to think i'm cheating-' you're shocked into silence when peter rips his arm from you.

'fucking quit it with the cheating, trouble.' you open and close your mouth like a guppy, nothing sounds right. 'i know you don't like it, but i just need you to know that me hiding that leslie was a guy didn't mean i was trying to-'

'say cheat one more time, i fucking dare you.'

you stay silent. 'i don't know how to fix it, peter. i'm sorry i lied, and i’m sorry i keep saying the 'c' word.' you jump at peter's stage claps, you never knew how sarcastic a noise could sound.

'there we go! that was hard, huh?' it leaves a bad taste in your mouth, you frown at him. 'you don't need to be so condescending.' peter snorts, 'and you don't need to be lying about girls who are guys that wanna fuck you.'

you freeze on the spot, pushing the words out like they'll make you puke if you think too hard about them. 'leslie doesn't want to fuck me.' peter nudges your back with his knee, 'you're cute.'

you shake your head, 'i mean it. he knows you're my boyfriend, i talk about you all the time.'

'that's so cute, you're so cute.' you push his arm, 'i mean it, peter! i promise he wants nothing to do with me, he even told me he likes someone else.'

peter plays along for the sake of it, 'oh, yeah? he does? let me guess... it's someone you know.' you light up, 'yes! he wouldn't tell me if we were friends, but he said i know her!'

'right, right. and she's super pretty, right? maybe a little outgoing?' it's impressing how well peter knows this. 'yes-' peter keeps going, 'maybe intimidating because she'd never notice him? and how she might not be into a guy like him?'

peter's ticked every single box; your eyebrows furrow, a supercut of every moment you've had with your study partner runs through your mind. you see where you've been dumb on hints, and how you very much are... the girl you know.

'and that might be because she...' you fill in the blanks with shame, 'has a boyfriend.' it's muttered in a deep tone, pitch mocking peter's next words.

a brew of frustration, not on peter, but on men in general. you can't even study without being hunted? and why the fuck does peter know the game so well?

'this is bullshit! what the fuck is your problem?' you stand and glare down at peter, demanding him to answer on behalf of the world's male population. peter holds a hand on his chest, 'what the fuck is my problem? i don't know, what did i do?'

'you!' you point at him, again, a placeholder for all feminine rage. 'you fucking- you're a... you're a man and you suck and why am i constantly fucking sexualized? all i wanted-' you suck in for air, you don't know why you feel a lump in your throat, is this something really worth crying over? yes.

'all i wanted was a friend.' no tears, you're full of anger again. who does that to a person? 'and the whole time i'm being baited? i just wanted to pass my fucking class, peter! i wanted to do it without your help and the second i don't have a fucking man tied to my hip, i'm being plotted against?'

'trouble,' peter's heart hurts and you can hear it.

'no! it's so unfair, and it's unfair that you'll never understand it. it's unfair that i have to live my entire life afraid of what's behind my shoulder. it's unfair that i can't be left alone. even when i make it clear i already have the person i want. it's just-'

you sink next to peter, he sits up to hug you. 'unfair. it's really, really unfair and i'm sorry i can't relate or understand. i'm sorry you thought you had a friend, i'm sorry you feel like you can't relax, and i'm sorry i rubbed it in your face.'

he did rub it in your face.

'you have plenty of guy friends with good intentions that would do anything to keep you out of harm's way. that includes calling out other guys that may not have them, but i could've been nicer. i'm sorry i'm just a man sometimes. i'll work on it, i promise.'

you melt into his touch, peter is very much just a man sometimes. but he's your man and always good at calling himself out when he needs it. 'is that why you thought i cheated on you?'

'the next time you say cheat, you owe me twenty bucks.' you ignore the quip, 'is it?'

peter scoffs as he rubs your back. 'i didn't think you were cheating, trouble. i was upset that my girlfriend was lying about who she was hanging out with.' a slew of kisses to your hairline follow.

'and maybe a little jealous.' you laugh, there's nothing for him to be jealous over, but he's super serious and pulls away to cup your face so you're looking right at him. 

'because you're my baby, and i need it to stay that way.'

[athenaoffantasy]

NEW TF OC ALERT!!!!

Here's extra info:

That and he's besties w/ Smokescreen bc yes. I don't have a name so I am open to suggestions! Comments or asks, but if you suggest in my ask box, I might forget so kinda have to link it in your ask or just give a shot description bc my brain is fried from Transformers brainrot

EDIT: fully colored

Didn't sign it yet in this pic but anyways-

Those lines on his face are scars, left from trying to kiss a wolfdog with more wolf than dog and it nipped, and the right from a glass bottle shattering on the right side of his face from a party. He's like, sixteen and seven months older than Jack. Junior in high school, 5'4, thrives on androgyny and never stays on one side. One day there's a fem touch, the next he's twice as masc than the fem day. But he'll always perpetually have his nails painted because he likes it.

Also, lore nugget, when he first becomes friends with Smokescreen, with all the talk from Arcee, Optimus and other skilled soldiers in Team Prime talking about potential he has that just needs guidance, he starts a GAINT ASS PAINTING that could be hung up like a picture to a Cybertronian and he spends all of his extra time, losing sleep and always sore from the work, making a painting of Smokescreen in battle as a sort of motivation for Smokescreen to work hard to be who he could be. He even spent time studying the physics of energon just so it's realistic. He spent over a year making that painting using various mediums like oil paint, acrylic, spray paint, watercolor, gouache, and for tiny little details, even used nail polish. And he has a part-time job as well and used his money and previously saved money from other jobs (mainly under-the-table jobs) to buy all these materials. He had to borrow the spare ladder from his construction guy neighbor. And it was all worth it to see the blue and yellow rookie absolutely amazed, jumping up and down, by such a painting made by such a teeny human. He held him so he can use a silver colored spray paint to sign the large painting before showing it off to Team Prime.

[secretobsessionstuff]

nawwwhh man you aint gotta feel bad about not doin sicktember. im bein real here, i thought i was and i did like 3, so i aint either. but if you really do want me to request one, i'd probably do psychogenic fever/stress induced illness with madix bein sickie bc itd relate to me personally the most (bc i always get stress sick and i'd love to see madix sick witb it too (bonis point if dakota take care of him GOD i loved the fic where dakote took care of him))

Hey man, thanks for always being there and loving my fics. I hope you like this one even though it's nearly two fucking years late I swear.

This fic is set in the past when Madix and Dakota are in school together.

CW: Graphic description of vomiting! It's seriously so gross I love it lol.

-------------------

A flood of relieved students rushed past Dakota. He swam against the current looking for Madix among the test-takers. Since it was 2pm, they were no longer test-takers, but the sea of knowledge inside their brains would still be there until the PTSD of organic chemistry was washed away by time. 

Dakota knew how anxious Madix had been for this final. The dreaded Orgo Chem kept his roommate up for the past three nights. It was a known fact that this second-year course was a killer, and Madix’s prof was a distinguished serial killer. Many students retook Orgo in the summer, trying for that passing grade with perhaps a more lenient prof. 

With the hallway now empty—all the students having left—it was easy for Dakota to find Madix. He hadn’t expected his friend to stick around after the final was over, but there he was sitting on the floor by the large windows. Madix looked like a crab, trying to find safety in the shell of his hunched over back. He had his head in his hands and was rubbing his temples as if the trauma of the exam pooled behind his eyes. 

“Hey, how did it go?” It was a very pointless question given that Madix was curled into a question mark. 

“Fuck if I know,” Madix slurred as he slid his hands down his face. “I keep going over every question, doubting my answers.” 

“Well, it’s over now so you don’t need to think about it.” It worried Dakota how glassy and fragile Madix’s eyes looked, like he was about to cry or explode into flames. His cheeks were pale and sunken too. 

“I need a 73 to pass the class.” 

Dakota squinted. “Mmh sounds like you’re still thinking about it.” 

Madix dropped his hands to his side. “I can’t stop. That exam is all I’ve been thinking about for the last week. I haven’t even had time to study for Anatomy tomorrow.”

With a sigh, Dakota sat down on the floor next to his friend. “I brought you something to take your mind off studying.” From behind his back, Dakota revealed a fast-food bag from the student lounge. It was Madix’s favourite place to get comfort food because of the crispy fries, the juicy burger, and the creamy milkshake. Madix didn’t like to indulge that craving too often because it was a greasy cheat meal that often left him feeling bloated, but Dakota thought it would be a nice gesture since Madix had hardly eaten anything leading up to this exam. 

He was about to hand his friend the grease-wrapped gift, but hesitated. The heat coming off Madix’s body was alarming. Dakota could feel the waves just sitting next to him. A quick touch to Madix’s forehead with the back of his hand told Dakota that he’d been neglecting his roommate. 

“Shit, Mads, you’re burning up. I didn’t know you were sick all this time.” 

“I’m not sick.” Like a starving animal, Madix reached for the bag of food, but Dakota held it out of his reach. 

“Bullshit. You can deny it all you want, but your head’s on fire, buddy.” 

“I know.” 

Dakota couldn’t stop his lecture now, as if the two of them hadn’t heard enough lecturing the whole year. “You’re the one in pre-med, you should know—wait what?” 

Madix sighed at the theatrics of his friend. “I’ve had a fever for three days. It’s not going away.” He rubbed his own forehead, feeling the familiar yet puzzling temperature. “I don’t have any other symptoms. I think it’s from stress.” 

It was honestly the oddest feeling. Madix could feel himself cooking from the inside. His cells buzzed like the many diagrams of excited particles when submitted to heat. But there was nothing else to indicate a virus or infection. His throat was fine; his nose was clear. If anything, he was infected with school. Perhaps his nose was clogged with equations and his throat was sore from reciting textbook chapters. 

Dakota looked skeptical. “So, you gave yourself a fever from worrying?” 

“Yes, it’s a medical mystery. They should name a disease after me. Anyway, gimme burger.” Madix reached for the food like a child with grubby fingers. 

Dakota scooted away from his friend, taking the prize with him. “I don’t know, Mads. You really don’t look well. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to eat something so heavy.” 

“Come on. You know I’ve been surviving on goldfish crackers.” It was only now that he could smell the fries and beef that Madix realized how hungry he was. His stomach was aching for something substantial. “Besides, I need the energy to study for Anatomy. It’s tomorrow by the way.” 

“Tomorrow? But you just had orgo.” 

“I have a shit exam schedule this year.” Madix pouted. “Please, Kota. It will make me feel better.” 

Finally, Dakota relented. He had bought it for Madix after all. But now he was worried that it was the exact opposite of what the overworked boy needed. 

He watched Madix stuff his face with his first real meal in 72 hours. The burger disappeared in record time. Fatty juices glistened on Madix’s chin as he dug into the fries. His fingers were coated in grease and fry seasoning by the time he was done. In between each mouthful, he took longs slurps of the Oreo milkshake. 

“You wanna slow down there, bud?” Dakota asked incredulously. There wasn’t much more to eat at this point. 

Madix dragged his sleeve over his mouth and shook his head. “Have to start studying soon.” He swallowed the last bite of fries and sucked at the last remnants of the milkshake. Madix let out a long burp at the end and sighed. 

“I’m not gonna lie, that was impressive.” Dakota couldn’t believe his eyes. “You’re getting more colour in your cheeks.” Maybe the meal really had been a good thing. “But I’m still worried about this voodoo fever though.” 

“It won’t go away until the exams do.” 

‘Then neither will I.” Dakota stood firm in this decision. He wasn’t going to let Madix get burnt out…literally. His hardest exams were done, so he could keep a closer eye on Madix now. “I’ll study with you in the library.” 

“You don’t have to, Kota. I’ll be fine.” 

“I want to.” 

By the tone of Dakota’s voice, Madix could tell that he wasn’t going to win this one. “Fine, but we’re studying in the red zone.” 

“Not the red zone! Anything but that.” 

Madix shrugged. “You’re the one who insisted on babysitting.”

• • •

The red zone was the fourth circle of hell—also known as the library during exam season. 

It was the quietest level of the building, reserved exclusively for students to study in absolute silence. No talking, no phones, you couldn’t even sneeze without getting dirty looks. You could hear a pencil drop and then watch that pencil be escorted out of the red zone. 

As someone with ADHD, Dakota hated the red zone. He much preferred the orange or yellow zone. At least in the orange zone, you could whisper and cough without being shunned. The yellow zone allowed for conversation and anxious tapping. He admitted that the green zone was definitely not ideal for studying. That was the first level of the library were students could openly cry over their exams or practice for their theater final that involved a murder scene. 

Dakota pretended to zip his lips and throw away the key. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them from moving on their own. 

Madix on the other hand had no issue keeping his mouth shut. The nausea forced his lips together. 

The fast food was quickly catching up to him, staying true to its name even inside his stomach. It hadn’t taken long before the burger, fries, and milkshake resisted digestion. The meal churned in his belly like a wad of chewing gum. 

The red zone was popular during this time of year, so Madix and Dakota hunted for two chairs next to each other. They found a long table with many students already studying there, but luckily there were two empty spots across from each other. Madix was grateful to be sitting across from Dakota so that he could rub his upset stomach discreetly. 

Unfortunately, the red zone was not a good place to have a gurgly tummy. The girl next to Madix gave him the stink eye when the organ groaned, tossing chewed up cow inside his gut. He felt grease sticking to his throat and hot burps in his chest. He pushed down every belch lest he be escorted out of the level. 

The words of the anatomy textbook swam across the page. Madix felt his fever ignite with a vengeance. Now he was dizzy, disoriented, and disgustingly full. There was heat behind his eyes that turned his vision to soup. Everything he needed to know for the exam was right in front of him in the book, but the letters became alphabet stew on a white background. 

He dared not look up at his friend in fear that Dakota would see right through him. 

Dakota could not study in such an environment, so naturally he saw every twinge of nausea flash across Madix’s expression. His poor friend was not having a good time. Madix’s cheeks were now flushed bright red, and beads of sweat gathered on his brow. 

In the dead quiet of the library, he could hear Madix’s stomach struggle to digest the heavy meal. Dakota kicked himself for giving into Madix’s begging. The nausea was no doubt thwarting his efforts at studying which created a vicious cycle of stress and pain. 

Dakota did a quick doodle in his notebook and passed it to Madix. He was quite proud of his drawing and had to keep in a chuckle. 

Madix frowned at the drawing. Along the top were the words Green Zone Now? Below Dakota’s messy handwriting was a drawing of a green-faced emoji. Its cheeks were ballooned with vomit. It seemed he wasn’t hiding his ailment so well. 

On the same page, Madix wrote back I’m fine. Must study. Madix didn’t think he needed to go to the green zone, despite what his complexion said. He could control his stomach. The food would stay down; it had to. 

Dakota gave Madix a disappointed look when he got the note back. Why must he be so stubborn? Dakota had to drop the matter. Aside from physically picking up his friend, he didn’t see any other way of convincing Madix to take a break for the sake of his health. He wasn’t going to be making any compelling arguments in the red zone. 

Madix tried to ignore his blistering fever and his unhappy guts.

Systemic Anatomy was hard to study for when he was so keenly aware of his digestive system. He imagined partially digested fries mixing with the gastric juices in his belly. His body went through the steps with much difficulty. 

The muscular organ was literally in the process of contracting itself to squeeze all the nutrients out of the fast food. Madix did not like the squeezing. He hugged his aching middle and laid his head on the table in defeat. 

It didn’t seem likely that the food would continue on to his intestines. His stomach couldn’t handle the greasy meal after days of hardly anything to eat. On top of all this, his body was too busy fighting a made-up virus called stress. The stress was very real, but his immune system was taking it too literally. It was no wonder why he couldn’t keep the meal down. 

Madix couldn’t stop the burp from coming up. It burst from his mouth, splashing the back of his throat with acid. The girl next to him shushed him. Her expression was as sour as his stomach. He didn’t have the will to apologize for the noise. Regardless, he wouldn’t have had the chance to say sorry anyway because another burp filled his mouth with sticky saliva. 

Dakota looked up quickly to see Madix hunched over his chair and gagging into his hand. Another sickly belch bubbled up, draining the colour from Madix’s face. 

Before Dakota could do anything, he watched Madix lurch forward with a loud heave. Thick vomit spewed from his mouth and fell onto the table in front of him. The sick quickly spilled onto Madix’s lap. 

“Oh, shit Maddy,” Dakota cooed as he came to his friend’s side. He didn’t bother with the anti-social etiquette of the red zone, not that it mattered though because everyone in their vicinity bolted from the room. No one wanted to risk catching whatever Madix had during their exams. 

Madix coughed and sputtered. Scandalous! He could only moan miserably before the muscles in his belly contracted again, sending up another wave of mushy fries and curdled milkshake. Dark flecks of Oreo and beef dotted the sick. 

“Oh God…” Madix choked out. “I can’t stop.”

Dakota rubbed his friend’s back while trying not to look at the growing pool of vomit that was…everywhere. “It’s okay, buddy. Just let it out.” The same heat from before lived beneath Madix’s skin. Dakota could feel the fever through his clothes. “No one is here. You’re good. Do what you need to do.” 

Madix’s belly gave another deep lurch. The pressure forced the undigested food up his open esophagus. If this wasn’t the best way to study the digestive system, then Madix didn’t know what else to do besides open himself up like a cadaver. 

His fever made the room spin around him. If he had any sort of receptacle, he probably would have missed. Luckily, he had no issue catching his notebook, his lap, and his shoes in the process. 

“Good job,” Dakota encouraged. He patted Madix’s back firmly. “Get it all out. Get that stress out too while you’re at it.” 

Madix had to admit that there was something cathartic about this purge. He felt lighter with each bout that left his body. He gave over to his subconscious mind and let his body do what it needed to do. He probably should have listened to the hunger and sleep cues before this, but he was listening now to the Get Out cues. 

If stressed looked like a melted Oreo milkshake then it was certainly no longer in his body. He tried to imagine the pressure and the expectations and the need for validation leaving his body along with the vomit. 

When Madix caught a break, he couldn’t help but give a chuckle. “This is the red zone. I just puked in the red zone.” 

Dakota laughed with him. “All over it really.” He looked around at the empty room. “You scared everyone away. They must think you have the plague.” 

“I think we’re all infected with it. This pressure—it’s an epidemic, man.” 

“Don’t go turning into a philosopher.” Dakota took a step back from his friend. It wasn’t a good view, but he was happy to see Madix’s shoulders relaxed. “Do you need anything? Water? Sleep?” 

“Both.” Madix slowly stood up from his chair, cringing at the wetness that made his shirt cling to his body. “But I think I better find someone who works here.” Madix rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I should have listened to you, huh?”  

“Let’s discuss my vast amount of wisdom when everything’s cleaned up, shall we?" 

[yasministration]

Hello! You were right— studying for finals did pay off haha (I’m afraid that was me who wrote that 😅), so know I’m ready to binge all of your fics I’ve missed! This might sound like an odd question, but I was wondering the amount of requests from readers you get? Your writing is so lovely, and my favorites that I’m always coming up with ideas for asks, but don’t want to spam or bother you! I’ve been spacing it out right now loll 😂 Your stories are soo good (👩‍🍳💋), and I’m already getting blessed with em’ that I’m afraid to add to your list!

Sidenote- ‘How do you write like you’re running out of time?’ ⌛️ Bc the stamina is so impressive, like I could never have that with my stories… I mean your spewing em’ out left and right and their bomb each time!

My apologies for the unintentional glazing and letter long message,

🧺

hi!! i'm so glad that the studying paid off :))

well currently, i have 48 asks in my inbox, but i'm sure tumblr has the number wrong and it's closer to 30 (because it like glitched and i dont want to empty my inbox for it to reset). but anyway, i just have the asks in there as requests i'm interested in writing and might get to, but please don't let that stop you from requesting as much as your heart desires!

if i see a request that fits the mood i'm in, i'll write it on the spot. it doesn't really have anything to do with chronological order, so please, do let me know what your ideas are!!!

also, honestly, i've only written a fic and a half in the past three days because my brain has been so fried after exams, but TRUST, i will be back on the writing grind when i come back from the pool today

[wttcsms]

i know you mentioned grad school and your job a lot but you write a lot too? curious as to what your schedule looks like

tl;dr: i normally write at around 11 pm - midnight, so my brain is usually fried up by then and im fighting sleep, which is why my fic writing process is both slow and doesn’t produce much quality 😭🙏🏻

my prof jokes that i need 36 hours in a day and he’s not wrong LOL. my typical routine ive settled into (from start to finish):

5 am - wake up, get ready for work (skincare, makeup, iron clothes/get dressed, pack lunch, make coffee); if my assignments for school get overwhelming, i will adjust my wake up time to 4 to give me time to work on them when i wake up

7 am - i leave my apartment no later than 7. im in auditing and travel to a client site 3 out of 5 days of the week (the other 2 days are wfh). right now, my commute is 1 hour 21 mins one-way (so i spend about almost 3 hours of my workday just commuting to and from), but it honestly feels like such a short trip now LOL

5 pm - workday is over; my office allows me to charge nonbillable time to account for my commute so i take a 30 min lunch over an hour long lunch so i can leave the client site at 3pm rather than 3:30pm (they just want to ensure that i get home/finish the workday at 5)

5 - 6 pm - my designated time to workout & then cook dinner

6 - 7 pm - shower and self care (in the form of skin and body care)

8 - 10 pm - depending on how many assignments i have, my designated schoolwork and study time will either end right at 10 bc im tired or i finish early OR it can drag until midnight

11pm - 12 am - free time

when work is slow or im waiting on something or im on lunch, you’ll see me post a lot!!!

my WFH days are every wednesday and friday, so similar working hours (7-3:30) but everything gets pushed up a bit, so i can workout earlier, wake up later, etc. on weekends, i normally drive back to my family + help out at their business. i get to sleep in until 6am, I’m at my parents’ shop from 7am-6:30pm basically LOL and any down time i spend shitposting on tumblr (it’s hard to write anything serious while im always being interrupted w work stuff + on my phone), i try to have free time by 9pm but usually all i wanna do on the weekend is sleep, so that’s what i do haha

[assassinationclassroom-studyblr]

Trying to organize my schedule so I can at the very least get 7 hours of sleep because I can't function without more than 6 hours (also I should be healthy) got me thinking about how much the ass class kids sleep.

People say teens should get 8 - 10 hours of sleep and that's my goal, but I have to keep making that time lower and lower... so like did the ass class kids get the right amount of sleep?

I think Nagisa may have? Like after a long day of school, climbing up and down the mountain, dealing with... everything, plus coming home to his mom, I think he'd use sleep as a way to avoid her. So the moment he comes home, he sleeps and when he wakes up he tries to leave away. He seems like a morning person to me, and personally as a morning person, I'm only a morning person when I get like a refreshing amount of sleep (which is about 7-9 hours).

Must I even talk about Karma? Because no way. Istg he cannonically does not sleep enough. Wakes up with a struggle bc he stayed up way too late studying or playing video games and has to run out his door to not be too tardy ( he only gets enough sleep if he's late to school bc he physically can't get up )

Kayano must have traumatic nightmares fuelling her anger throughout most of the series... and even after she finds out the truth, I don't think it gets nightmares of her dead sister out of her mind, so I think she tries to sleep well and struggles because of the nightmares (plus the uncomfortableness of the tentacles).

Terasaka may get some good sleep too? I mean physically he's very fit and also he acknowledges the stupid things Karma and Nagisa do a couple of times. He calls out their behaviours of overworking (like during the nagisa v karma fight) and killing intent (? like when Nagisa goes blind with rage bc of Takaoka) so I think he's pretty in tune to his own behaviour esp after his spotlight episode where he reforms. Basically I think Terasaka promotes a healthy sleep schedule and makes sure that all of his friends get at least 8 hours a night.

Isogai works, studies, trains, helps out at home, is the class president... boy has a lot on his plate and I think he gets very little sleep bc of this. Like he is responsible and knows that he should sleep more but he can't because of all the responsibilities he has (which I think is a very very relatable issue).

Asano... lacks sleep. Literally looks sickly. Sleeps like 2 hours a night. He learned his sleeping habits from the worst person to learn sleeping habits from; his father. (idk how his brain isn't fried)

Kirara lacks sleep too, but it's a choice. She stays up all night reading or writing after finishing up everything she has to do and loses track of time. Terasaka is trying to fix this poor habit of hers. (He definitely does by the time high school rolls around)

Nakamura does try but she's also a natural genius. Unlike other geniuses in her world, her brain functions with the perfect amount of sleep, so she sleeps enough.

Megu sacrifices her sleep to help others and has a ton of extra responsibilities, like Isogai. So, she usually doesn't get enough sleep. On the rare occasion that she does, she sleeps in way too much.

Wow, I had more thoughts about this than I thought I did. I was about to leave this with the main trio, but started thinking more. (Takebayashi lacks sleep too, with the cram schools and studying)

I wish we had like an exact schedule of these kids' days because they have so much on their plate. Analyzing the kids probable schedules under the cut.

Ik this varies, but I'm assuming their school day starts at 8:45 and ends at 3:15. That's 6.5 hours.

They can't go to extra curriculars, BUT they have their after school training, which I would say, is probably fairly extensive. I want to say it's about 1-2 hours a day? With school, it's 8.5 hours.

Not to mention, the climb up the mountain itself. There's multiple mentions of how long and exhausting it is. I think it takes about 30 minutes a trip, on average? Bc plenty of ppl have made it up, but it does take a while and it's tiring (could take longer cause of this) bc it's a mountain. So this is one more hour, just going up and down the mountain.

So, so far, these kids have school, where they learn and study at for 6.5 hours. And not including P.E, they work out/train for 3 hours a day.

Then there's the trip home which varies for all of them, not including the mountain trek. I think most of them have to wait for transit aND walk to the subways, which aren't too close, so I'm gonna say this is another hour? On average, I'd say. So that's two hours gone with transit a day

So far, 11.5 hours of their day is gone, outside of their homes, doing their like typical day responsibilities. Now they have 12.5 hours of their day left. With getting that max amount of 10 hours of sleep, they'd have 2.5 hours to work on homework, study a bit more, eat some food, take care of themselves, do their chores, and poor Isogai's got work. Plus you know, ppl have hobbies, things they enjoy.

Basically, it's impossible (or rlly hard) for the ass class kids to be getting the right amount of sleep. It is also rlly hard to get the right amount of sleep as a teen or an adult... good luck with the new school year guys.

Anyways get enough sleep! (or do your best to)

If you've got any time management tips, let me know!

[actuallyadhd]

hiii. I'm 23F, at college. I've always done certain things and behaved certain ways that I've found some adhd related advice helpful or some experiences relatable, but lately it's been starting to pile up and i feel like i can't just ignore it bc i sense something is not quite "right". Even if I do well enough at life and stuff i still struggle a lot with yknow, focusing and doing things and it makes me more stressed etcetc. I texted my therapist, who I originally saw for another issue entirely and since I've been doing better for a while now our sessions are a lot more spread out, I explained a bit of what's happening rn (without ever mentioning adhd just saying I've been having issues), she says she doesn't think it's something organic but rather stress-related and that i should try to put reminders on my phone etc, bc it only seems to be affecting some aspects of my life and not all of them and just. idk there's not many more to my life than study/work, social and personal and it does affect that but idk. i also don't do great with strict organizational rules or planning bc historically I've always failed at following correctly and felt terrible about it afterwards, so i do very loose plans as to not burdening myself. idk I'm rambling i feel my brain is fried rn and i can't sit down and finish an assigment that's due in 6 hours hahhahaha lmao this is fine

Sent June 5, 2024

I hope you were able to look after that assignment. If not, contact your instructor right away and just say that you're feeling burned out and would appreciate an extension. They may or may not give it to you, but at least that way they know you care.

It sounds like you're definitely stressed out, and that makes sense. Even without ADHD symptoms, post-secondary is stressful!

It does sound like what you've been doing isn't really working anymore, so once you've gotten through this semester you can spend some time figuring out something different.

For now, it's the end of the term and you probably have exams to study for and assignments to complete, so let's get that sorted so you know what you need to do.

List all of your upcoming exams, with date and time.

List all of your outstanding assignments, with due dates.

Give each a score of 1-5 based on how hard it's going to be to study for/complete on time.

Sort your list by date and then by difficulty.

For exams, figure out how many days you have until your exam and then decide what you're going to study on each day. This might be a topic or it could just be a chapter in the text book.

For assignments, figure out what you need to do for each one (smallest steps you can think of) and how many days you have until they're due. Then give yourself a due date for each step of the assignment.

If you need help with any of this figuring out, write in again with more information, and I'll do what I can. We can also talk about new systems you could try.

Followers, do you have any advice for this Anon?

-J

[forabeatofadrum]

Hello @quizasvivamos for the tag. I guess I will follow your example and give a writing update:

There is no update.

BUT I have been writing for academic reasons and my friends, today I wrote the worst paper I've written since I started studying at university and my brain is absolutely fried now. It's only 20% of the final grade, so I just have to hope the exam will go well. Unfortunately, I don't think it will, cause I spent precious time that I could use for studying writing this bitch ass paper. Do I sound bitter? YES I am bitter. I am really, really unhappy with this form of examination for this specific course. I have so much to say about the way this entire degree is structured in general. The latest stats got released a couple of days ago. Only 22% of the people who start this degree finish it. That... is not a good luck. Alas, you're not here to listen to me bemoan my university's academic choices. You're here for fic!

In fic world, I am almost done with the next chapter of Ljubili se, since I wrote most of it before the one I last posted. (Oh, guess there's an update after all.) Also, I also want to contribute to the upcoming Klaine zine, but also, I am just kinda... dried up when it comes to the Klaine through the years vibe. I prefer writing AU than canon compliant. I don't know if I have anything existing to submit, and I do not know what else to write but I DO wanna join. So that's what's going on there.

In better news, I am replaying my childhood favourite game MySims Kingdom and it slaps.

And now, the weather: @coffeegleek @caramelcoffeeaddict @raenestee @tectonicduck @nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer @that-disabled-princess @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @cutestkilla ​ @wellbelesbian ​ @artsyunderstudy ​ @facewithoutheart ​ @shrekgogurt @rockitmans @bitbybitwrites @whatevertheweather @theotherhufflepuff @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion @esilher @kurtsascot @blackberrysummerblog @nightimedreamersghost @ivelovedhimthroughworse @thnxforknowingme

Oh wait, people have used these tag things for other creative stuff. I went to a polymer clay workshop yesterday, and meet my panda:

[yingxtkm]

Not really anything that’s worthy of TW other than lack of self worth/confidence but just a short long vent lmfao

TLDR Art crisis I hate my art HHHH

I just had a concerning convo with one of my friends regarding another friend who’s kind of in a bad spot and it kinda pushed me over the edge on things that have been eating away at me for awhile and just became even more obvious when I was doing a group study on color theory with some artist friends.

I hate how I can’t seem to absorb anything in my head maybe it’s my ADHD or fried dopamine receptors, I try to save tutorials and videos of things that’ll help me improve my art but I just feel this huge sense of despair whenever I see fellow artists post improvement comparisons of their art from like two years or more and it’s just this big jump and I feel like I’m still stuck in this ditch. Like yes, there are improvements but it’s not a lot and I’m really just inching slowly and not enough to be where I want to be.

I’ve been doing studies every other day recently bc I know I’m self aware enough to know what I need to improve on and what to fix but there’s just A LOT that needs to be improved on and it’s gotten me to the point where I don’t even know where to start lmao don’t even get me started on how these art issues directly reflect my irl situation/mental state as well curse the ‘immensely self aware of own predicament but unable to drag self out of ditch’ problem I’m in. 

I hate my art, I hate how I make things 10x harder AND slower for myself bc of my work flow and habits in drawing, I hate how I’m not improving bc I’m not practicing enough or going out of my comfort zone, I hate that I can’t even properly render bc I know my understanding of lighting, shadows and color theory is absolute dogshit. There’s just so much that needs improving it’s absolutely eating away at my already nonexistent self esteem and confidence in my art.

I’m trying bc I love drawing out whatever brain worms that are stuck in my head, hence aeriseph sib nonsense, and it does make me happy to see how much engagement and traction those posts get but it’s not enough bc I know how lacking I am in technical skills that could be so much better if I could just get myself out of this never ending slump.

Anyways that’s all 😋✌️I’m definitely very okay and I should go back to sleep or smth idk

[missmisdemeanor]

Happy DFF Lana! I'm going to go for a horny question bc my brain is fried, what's John's favourite way to fuck Dean? Position, hard/slow, little idiosyncrasies... tell me the gross 👀

so this got away from me a little. smut under the cut.

It’s– God, almost four in the morning and neither of them have slept. John’s insomnia is an old beast, its teeth worn down from gnawing at him over the course of two decades. Dean’s is a brand new animal, and it’s teething. It bites red rings under his eldest son’s eyes, visible as Dean sits at the motel desk cleaning another gun. He’s given up any pretense of going to sleep, just like last night and the night before. Three nights prior, they’d finished the last of their store of sleeping pills.

John watches him from the unmade bed. They only get one-bed rooms these days, with Sam gone. John watches him, like he has for years. And it’s a dance. Dean sways subtly, arm pulling back. He puts the gun down. John follows arm with eyes in a fluid motion. “Dean,” he calls, lips loose around the syllable.

“Go to sleep,” Dean rasps. Every word is forced through the front of his throat.

“You know I can’t.”

John’s lips turn up. Dean is particularly beautiful in the low light, in the early hours, with red-ringed eyes and subtly shaking limbs. Like John, he’s scuffed from their years of violent life, like a rock endlessly tumbling down a jagged mountain, gathering chips and scratches along the way. His shattered edges soften under lamplight, under a haze of sleeplessness. Fog fills his voice and his body echoes a sort of delicateness it hasn’t truly held since he carried Sam out of the fire.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles. Dry. There’s a sink in the bathroom, but he hasn’t had a sip of water in twelve hours, easy. Just one beer and a couple cigarettes. “I know.”

“Come here,” John says. Gentle, always gentle. Dean doesn’t fight like Sam does–or rather did. And John’s instruction is a plea far more than a command. He remembers Dean younger, standing with hands on John’s knee, seated. Dad, are you okay? Teenaged, a broader palm on John’s shoulder. Hey. Let’s all relax, alright? To Dean, the face of a put-together father has always been made of glass. 

He sees the man John is, so John doesn't try to hide it.

Dean sighs. Wordlessly, he stands on weak bowlegs. His feet are silent on the motel’s brown wall-to-wall carpet, and he sits next to John in bed.

“There you are,” John smiles. Dean doesn’t brush it off, not with a laugh or by moving away. 

This is routine– one two three, one two three. John sits up and his fingers dance along Dean’s jaw, across the coarse stubble he hasn’t bothered shaving. Dean’s hands pull John’s shirt off, almost like a parent helping a child change clothes. It’s not hungry, not insistent. Not yet.

John coaxes Dean from his cotton tee in turn, runs rough hands up Dean’s scarred sides. It’s redundant at this point to call him beautiful. Maybe the words leach out of John’s admiring eyes. 

Jeans and boxers too are discarded, and Dean’s legs are almost as hairy as John’s these days. Dean has John’s blunt jaw and his soft stomach. He has his mother’s eyes.

Dean’s legs come over John’s and press their cocks together. The hair on Dean’s is lighter, and it curves the opposite way if you really pay attention. Which John does. He’s made a mental study of Dean so meticulous and for so many years it could constitute a doctorate. His hand reaches out first, hairy-knuckled and gnarled as a storm-worn oak. It wraps around them both, stroking slow, breathing life into soft, tired bodies. 

Dean’s hand wraps on top of John’s, softer palms from youth but certainly not easy living. Slow, ever-tighter. They groan in unison, breathing heavily. When John looks up into Dean’s eyes, they’re half-lidded, his pupils blown wider than they were even with the room so dim. His cock’s hardening in John’s hand, the tip turning a stunning shade of pink-red. John’s cock fills half from pleasure and half from watching Dean, the way his stomach folds as he gets comfortable and his hips start rocking. His palm’s getting sweaty against the back of John’s hand.

John’s the first to break the relative silence. “Fuck…I could come like this.”

Dean grunts. A swarm of red bees descends on his summer-peach cheeks. They flit invisibly fast wings against his neck, up to his ears. “Don’t,” his voice buzzes, low. He leans into John’s shoulder and rests his warm chin there. 

John’s hand stills. “Holding out for something better?”

Dean shakes his head. His hair’s getting shaggy. John likes to put his fingers in it, and he doesn’t hold back from doing so now. “Yeah.” He breathes out in a stream, like blowing out a birthday candle. “Fuck me.”

They never say make love. They don’t kiss particularly often either. Dean doesn’t ham up his fuck me though, it’s gruff and sincere. John presses cracked lips to Dean’s oily hairline, that much is okay. “Of course.”

Dean situates himself like he has for months of late nights, stomach flat to the sheets. John takes the lube off the nightstand. They’d left it on top of the motel’s stationery the day they got there. A week ago, maybe. Stomach-to-back is their favourite position, and John doesn’t know how much of that is about avoiding each other’s eyes.

In any case, he’s dutiful. He owes that to Dean, who stuck around, who still hasn’t turned on him even though he doesn’t sleep anymore. Sam’s the one ghost they can’t hunt down. John squirts lube onto his fingers and presses them to Dean’s rim, pushes in with little preamble. The slide’s easy. Practised. 

Dean grunts, he lifts his hips off the mattress slightly. John curls two fingers inside him, spreading them apart slightly. He presses where he knows Dean likes it, and Dean moans into the sheets ever-so-quietly. John doesn’t miss details though. For once, he’s grateful to be hypervigilant. 

“Come on,” Dean complains, and it makes John laugh.

“Alright, calm down. I got you.”

Fucking Dean is a feeling like nothing else in the world. His tight rim chokes John’s cock as he pushes in, and he’s so soft and warm inside. Dean likes it wet, and the lube squelches as John starts thrusting into him. Pure bliss.

He's pressed to Dean’s back, coarse chest hair against the thin hair between Dean’s shoulder blades. It tugs as John moves, it hurts a little. “Oh, Dean…”

“Mm…” Dean ruts into the mattress and back up against John, up and down. John licks the side of his neck, tastes the cold sweat of his insomnia against the hot skin of arousal. He sinks his teeth into Dean’s shoulder, a claim.

Dean responds so sweetly to being touched. He’s good, so good. John pants in his ear and indulges himself, slow and deep. “Baby,” John groans, holding strong hips.

John likes being right here, feeling every one of Dean’s muscles activate as he writhes, searching desperately for more pleasure. He likes the feeling of Dean’s low, curved back, the way his round stomach fits right in that dip like they were made to slot together.

Clothes on the floor, diagonal on the bed. John leans forward to smell Dean’s breath as he exhales and it’s gross, sour and still lingering with cigarette smoke. 

“Love you,” John sighs, and Dean mumbles it back into the sheets. They’ve been saying it a lot more lately.

John picks up the pace, still with long, deep thrusts. He wants to feel the slide from base to tip. Dean moans openly, face full of fabric, arching his hips up for more. On another day, John might’ve teased him. Slut, good boy. You just love Daddy’s cock, don’t you? 

Not tonight. 

Dean’s body goes so lax under John’s he could be falling asleep. He isn’t, with the way those raw-throated noises carry on. “Touch me,” Dean asks, low and husky, and John could never say no.

He reaches a hand underneath to stroke Dean’s cock, appreciatively humming at how hard and wet with precome it is. He’s made the sheets wet too. Messy boy. “Mine,” John groans, canting his hips without finesse. “Close…”

“Mhh,” Dean tilts his head up to breathe properly as John squeezes his cock, thumbs at the tip, fucks deep into his wet asshole.

John comes hard, his abdomen tensing against Dean’s back. The tingling warmth spreads through all of his limbs. He stays still there as he finishes Dean off, which takes another minute of jerking him off and biting at his neck.

Dean’s especially beautiful when he comes, to the point where John likes Dean’s orgasms more than his own. His whole body shakes and he gasps, and John feels the spurts of wet come between his hand and the bed.

When he pulls out, Dean’s half asleep already. They’re not going to talk about it.

They never do.

[kohyuuu]

🎧🐢🤠❤️ <3

once in a lifetime (pt. 1)

elias & scarlett study date fic——— part 1, friends to lovers trope, polyamorous, & androgynous reader <3

side notes: this was so badly worded and i sorta rushed this so i apologize for that, also all the creativity in my brain was fried x —— im also cutting it off at the dialogue part bc im gonna write a part 2 to this :))

started: february 23rd, 2025

—————————- ♡🎧🤠

you and scarlett met as table-mates when your class got a new seating chart!!

some of the kids in your class didn’t like her bc of the energy she has, but they eventually grew used to it

she was the first at your table to talk to you!! she had a feeling you and her would become friends fast, like she knew both of y’all would connect easily like puzzles

as soon as you and her got comfortable, she shared her interests and hyperfixations with you :)) you felt like you could listen to her talk for hours, and you could because she was info-dumping everything she knew on cowboy/girls and slime rancher LOL

she later introduced you to her best friend, elias!! he already knew about you as scarlett rambled on about how she “met someone cool in class the other day” at lunch

while he was a little shy and hesitant about you at first, he eventually warmed up to you after realizing how cool you are <3

tbh elias was the first to fall for you. he didn’t understand his feelings at first, but after some self-reflection, everything made sense to him

scarlett was the second person to fall for you, but she never felt this way about anybody before. she felt as if she would be alone forever, until you came into her and elias’ life

at school, things got.. a little awkward. usually she’d be the talkative one at lunch, but she hasn’t been feeling like herself lately. all her attention was fixated on you

elias was feeling the same way. he just couldn’t take his mind off of you. part of him just wanted to say he loves you but he was worried it was going to ruin everything if he were to

seeing the way scarlett was, elias put two and two together and realized that they BOTH like you

and so, he excuses himself from the table to have a private conversation with scarlett, leaving you to sit alone

♡🎧🤠—————————-

“i’ve noticed that you’ve been a little off lately and you’re usually not.. well- like that. is something going on?”

“no, no- it’s just- fuck. how do i word this, uhm-“

“take your time. words are hard, i know. 🤓” elias teasing scarlett LOL

“eli- oh my god, fuck you. 😡 but.. i think i have feelings for someone, someone we know.”

“is it y/n?”

“wait, what the hell- how’d you know..?”

“because i like them too. <3”

—————————- ♡🎧🤠

—- FEBRUARY 25TH EDIT: proofread, fixed the wording of the dialogue and the story, added emojis in the dialogue part to represent how elias and scarlett are feeling LMAO

» click/tap here for the next part !!

[dishgranted]

honestly i love the format they chose for mystery files. unsolved will always have a special place in my heart, but the projector and the cork board bring so much more dynamic to the show. the way ryan presents the show feels so easy

not to mention the set, it feels more personal, even? like yeah, we’re all sitting together in a basement talking about mysteries and the vibes are fucking amazing

plus the visuals which i am obsessed with! ghost files was off the charts and it’s no different with mystery files, it brings the show to a whole new level, more professional and elaborate, that we didn’t see in unsolved

ofc this is the result of years of unsolved and ryan and shane’s growth was already visible in ghost files, but it always amazes me to see how far they’ve come and improved in their projects

[findmeontheisle]

chasing the ocean: part 16

author's note: oh shit, i’m still writing this thing? the answer is yes, i am. just very slowly, but the past couple days during finals week, i’ve had tumblr open in one tab and whenever my brain feels extra fried, i come back and write a couple more sentences. i’m not promising that any of this is good, but it’s written and we’re getting closer to the end. (that’s a lie, we still got a little bit bc i meant it when i said slow burn and this is just a filler bc i wanted to bring back umas correlation to the story)

warnings: bad writing, cursing?? (idk i’m assuming i had some curses somewhere in here), mostly just fluff

masterlist

previous chapter next chapter

the days after my incident with chad were fairly peaceful. fairy godmother had called harry and me into her office the next day where she attempted to issue an apology to me for not adequately punishing chad's behavior. i quickly corrected her and reminded her that she should have immediately apologized to harry since he's the one who was impacted by it. and through gritted teeth, she forced out an apology that only sounded partially feigned.

from then on, harry and i carried on with the routine that we had set for ourselves. we walked to classes together, ate lunch separately, met up in the attic for dinner and study sessions or naps, depending on how we felt that day.

all was going well and it had been weeks since harry and i had an actual argument that extended beyond debating on who would pick what we would eat.

until the day of the vk adjustment meetings.

due to my classes assigning an excessive amount of homework and constantly having to consult with my parents over phone calls about details for my upcoming coronation that loomed in the back of my brain, i had been unable to attend any meetings since the one that i had brought harry to when he first arrived.

now that i had found a way to properly schedule all of my study sessions and meetings with my parents, i could finally return to my duties to the group. which means that today, i am leading the meeting to give evie and carlos a reprieve from the stress.

harry huffs as he helps me rearrange the chairs in the empty classroom that was designated for clubs and meetings. he had spent twenty minutes this morning before we left the attic trying to convince me to bail on the meeting so that we could have our weekly movie marathon. each time we would find each other in the halls between classes, he would flash his blue eyes at me and pout his lip as he sighed dramatically about how excited he had been for tonight.

and each time, i would level him with an easy smile and a quick kiss to the cheek as i promised that we would watch the movies after the meeting. the promise had been tiding him over and keeping him content, but now i can see him shifting nervously and his eyes are darting around the empty room as if he's checking exits.

the action makes me pause and lower the notebook i had made notes on. i haven't seen him resort to that behavior since right after we came back from eroda.

setting the notebook down in my chair, i cross the room to stand in front of him. he notices me and gives me a playful pout, but his eyes are still frantic as he looks around, "lass, are you sure we can't skip this meeting?"

i take the chair from his grasp and gesture for him to take a seat in it. he sighs, but sits regardless. crouching in front of him, i take his hand in mine as i stare into his eyes, "okay, love, what's really going on?"

he attempts to feign confusion, but i continue to stare up at him before he finally cracks, "i don't know, i just-"

"hey, y/n, me and evie decided to come early to see if you needed any help."

carlos's voice can be heard before he's seen and by the time he's entered the room, harry is standing again and offering his hand out to help me up as well. i shoot harry a concerned look, but he doesn't glance my way.

carlos and evie pay no attention to us as they help move the last few chairs into the semi-circle harry had made. before i can excuse us so that i can talk to harry, evie is updating me on the members who have been attending frequently and issues that have been discussed lately.

from the corner of my eye, i can see harry sit down in the chair that's to the right of mine as he begins to mindlessly spin his hook in his hand.

all too soon, the room begins to fill with people and i'm forced to greet them and make small talk. i barely manage to take my seat next to harry as dizzy passionately tells me about her classes and who her most recent clients have been at her hair salon that she's running in the back of evie's shop.

nodding along with the biggest smile that i can manage, i pray that i look interested enough to keep from hurting her feelings as my eyes cut over to harry. the hand that isn't holding his hook is shaking and the sight breaks my heart. with no hesitation, i reach my hand over and take his in mine. interlocking our fingers, i gently squeeze to give him some comfort.

the action seems to suffice for him as he squeezes back without looking up, but my brow is still creased with worry.

the room continues to fill up and there are less empty seats now, but the only thing i can focus on is the emptiness in harry's eyes as he rubs circles on the back of my hand. the action is soothing, but it feels like he's just reminding himself that i'm still there.

carlos claps suddenly and gathers everyone's attention. the low buzz of conversation comes to a stop and celia takes the hint to take her seat, but she promises to finish explaining how her tarot reading business is going.

i force a smile and nod as a response, but as carlos begins welcoming everyone, i glance at harry.

when he first showed hesitance at coming to the meeting, i had assumed it was a distaste for meetings in general or the cheesiness. at one point, i even assumed that he just didn't feel like sitting and pretending to be interested, but now i can see that this was genuinely affecting him.

i'm seconds from leaning in close to his ear to whisper that he could leave early if he wants to when carlos turns and gestures for me to stand.

"and for tonight's meeting, our discussions will be led by y/n!"

all attention is shifted to me and i feel harry slowly release my hand as i stand up. pulling my notebook up to my chest, i smile to greet everyone and clear my throat nervously.

"well, it's been a little while, but i'm happy to see everyone again. evie and carlos have been keeping me up to date on everything that's happened the past couple meetings and i think we're all overdue for a check-in session."

murmurs of agreement are passed around the circle and i take that as my sign to continue speaking, "to start, how about we all go in a circle and share something good that happened this week? it can be anything, big or small. just something that made you happy."

i nod at carlos, who sits to my left, and he takes the hint as he turns to the group and shares, "i went on a date with this girl that i've had a crush on for a while."

the group gasps and evie blurts, "how'd it go?"

carlos chuckles at the enthusiasm and shrugs with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "honestly, really good. she wants to go skip rocks together at the enchanted lake tomorrow because i told her that i never learned how."

evie awes and she's clearly about to continue questioning him when i speak, "that's great, carlos! evie, what's something good that happened to you this week?"

straightening up in her seat, she smiles brightly and announces, "i had a magazine reach out to me asking to do an article about what it's like to be a successful vk and any tips i have for others."

the group begins mumbling excitedly amongst themselves and i jot down a quick note in my journal to remember to ask which magazine and when it's coming out after the meeting.

we continue in the circle as everyone shares something. dizzy got a new pair of scissors, celia learned how to make beignets from nadia. even harry participated as he mumbled about passing his geography test yesterday, which is something that i had expected considering his insane amount of knowledge of maps from his father.

standing up, i nod and do my best to refrain from bouncing on my toes at all of the good news, "thank you to everyone for sharing. i can see a massive improvement from the last check-in session as you're all getting better at finding positives around you."

i glance down to my notebook and open my mouth to speak again when i'm cut off by the door bursting open.

everyone jumps in their seats, some scouring or patting their bodies for weapons that once were always strapped on them. harry's arm is pulling me back behind him before i can even register that he's standing.

uma is at the door, panting heavily as she huffs out, "sorry for... running late... debate team..."

no one is paying any attention to her words though.

one quick glance around the room tells me that the peaceful environment that carlos, evie, and i had worked so hard to create for the group is tainted. everyone is visibly shaken from the disturbance and my heart sinks to the floor at the sight of dizzy nervously braiding her hair or celia twisting her rings.

no one felt comfortable enough to share their vulnerabilities now that they had been thoroughly spooked.

frowning, i silence uma's apology with a quick glare and i nod at evie to pull her outside for a reminder on the policies of the group.

as they shuffle out the door quietly, i step from behind harry and place a reassuring hand on his arm as i speak up, "okay, i think for the next part we should break off into peace partners."

i watch as everyone glances around uncertainly and want to cry from how much progress was loss with the one breach of trust.

forcing a gentle smile, i continue, "it's been a while since we've done it so i'll re-explain how peace partners work. i want everyone to find at least one person to partner with. the groups should be no bigger than three."

i pause to give everyone a moment to glance around for potential partners before i continue speaking, "once you find a person, you go to a corner or find a spot to sit with them and i want you both to talk about things that you find most peaceful. it's no judgement, but if you don't feel comfortable doing that then it's okay to do breathing exercises with them or just sit in silence with them. okay? any questions?"

no one answers so i nod and announce for them to find their partners.

the room is a quiet buzz as everyone breaks into separate groups. i turn to partner with harry, but a hand on my shoulder stops me in my actions.

glancing back, i find uma waiting behind me and i barely contain my grimace of annoyance as i wait for her to speak first.

"hey, y/n, i'm sorry. i really wasn't thinking when i came running in here like that. i just didn't want to miss anything important in the meeting."

i look over her shoulder at evie, who is frowning and waiting to speak to me as well. with a quick nod, i gesture to carlos, "we're doing peace partners right now to calm everyone back down. you can partner up with carlos-"

"actually, i wanna partner with harry."

her words cause me to freeze in my place and a pit to form in my stomach. a subtle look back at harry shows that he isn't paying attention to the conversation as his blue eyes dart around the room. his face is locked into an unbothered expression, but i see through his façade.

"sorry, uma, but harry's my partner."

she frowns and argues, "he's your roommate. why can't he partner with someone else?"

the logic is sound, but i don't like the way she keeps looking back over at harry so i force myself to sound as detached as possible as i ask, "why can't you partner with carlos?"

shrugging a shoulder, uma reasons, "i want to hear about how harry's doing since he left the isle."

typically, i would agree that it's a good idea. i would smile and encourage for them to support each other and reminisce over their shared childhoods. i would let them huddle together in a corner of the room and whisper about their experiences.

but i remember how uma's rejection had hurt harry despite him never confessing that. i remember how she left him completely alone to adjust to his new surroundings. he was counting on her being there for him and she left him. deep down, i know it was for the better so she wouldn't be tempted to fall back into old habits, but part of me knows that she was strong enough to fight those temptations.

part of me knows that she chose to leave him and now that she can see improvements in his behavior, she wants to come back.

gritting my teeth, i step closer so harry can't hear me as i whisper, "uma, stop it. you're not being fair to him."

she arches a brow and shifts her feet as she asserts, "you're the one who's hiding him from everyone else. i was there for him on the isle while you were eating off a silver spoon. you don't know what fair is, y/n."

part of me is shocked that she's arguing over this, but i also knew deep down that she had a purpose behind trying to partner with harry and i refuse to let it happen.

staring into her brown eyes, i tilt my head up at her and hissed, "yeah, but i'm the one who was here for him when he came from the isle. you're the one who blew him off and acted like you were above associating with him. so i'm sorry, but i think i have a pretty good idea of what fair is."

uma blinks in surprise at the anger in my tone and the defensive stance i hold. she opens and closes her mouth for a few seconds, but i don't let her respond as i nod at carlos once more.

"carlos is your peace partner. go take a seat, uma."

with that, i turn on my heel and call harry's name. when his eyes stop darting around and land on me, i let myself smile at him and gesture towards the door, "let's go outside. there will be more space and it'll be quieter, captain."

admittedly, it was a little petty of me to emphasize his nickname, but seeing uma roll her eyes as she listens to carlos talk about his week was worth it.

harry's footsteps trail behind me and i shut the door behind us quietly once we've both entered the hallway. letting out a small sigh, my shoulders relax slowly and i rest my head against the door temporarily.

when i turn around to face harry, i can see the barely contained grin on his face as he stares at his boots. i breathe a small laugh and shake my head, "what are you smiling about over there?"

he lifts his head and his blue eyes are swimming with so many emotions that i can't decipher any of it as he shrugs, "i think it's cute that ye got possessive in there."

scoffing, i glance over my shoulder to check on the group and to hopefully distract harry from the warmth in my cheeks at his words.

“i wasn’t possessive. i just called dibs on being your partner and didn’t feel like sharing with someone who doesn’t deserve to be a part of your peace.”

harry hums and nods along with a teasing smile etched on his features. he steps closer to me and if i wasn’t already leaning against a doorframe, i would’ve been tempted to take a step back. i stare up at him and hold eye contact in an attempt to feign normalcy, despite the way it feels like my heart is trying to break free from my chest.

when harry lets his hook fall to the ground to gently cup my cheeks in his hands, i know that if my heart were to leave my body, i would give it to him.

i would place it in his hands and i know that it would be safe with him.

when harry places a small kiss to the top of my head, i realize that in some ways, i’ve already given it to him.

“i’m glad ye know how i feel.”

furrowing my brows, i tilt my head and wait for his explanation.

harry seems to hesitate, but he sighs and confesses, “between yer classes and kingdom and clubs, it just feels like sometimes i’m sharing ye with half the world.”

his words hit me in the chest and i frown, but he hurriedly continues to speak, “and that’s fine usually. i love seeing how happy ye get when ye accomplish something or watching ye be naturally good at leading yer kingdom.”

harry pauses and his thumb rubs small circles over my cheeks as his jaw clenches, “it’s just… sometimes i can see how stressed ye get and ye never do anything for yerself. that’s why i enjoy our movie nights because it’s one of the few times ye look calm.”

the quiet buzz of the meeting is gone and i feel waves of guilt wash across me as i stare into his blue eyes, thinking about how he had been acting all day.

“that’s why you didn’t want to come to the meeting?”

he gives me a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he jokes, “well, i mean, i mostly didn’t wanna come because ye said there wasn’t going to be snacks.”

when i don’t laugh at his attempt to distract me, he sighs before pressing our foreheads together. his hands fall from my cheeks and move to pull me closer by my waist. once he was satisfied with how close we were, he pulled back enough to make eye contact.

“lass, stop doing that.”

lips twitching down into a frown, i desperately wish that we weren’t making eye contact as it feels like his eyes are staring into my soul.

it’s a look i had grown used to while growing up in a royal position. to have my morals and thoughts pulled from my chest and laid out for strangers to pick apart mercilessly. before i met harry, my skin had thickened and my tongue was raw from how often i bit it to control the words i wished to say.

now that i’ve spent so long with him, everything’s shifted.

harry has let me move at my own pace. i have reached within and shown him the parts of me that i had managed to hide from everyone. the magnifying glass that once was terrified me as others held it up to my imperfections now felt like a telescope. harry looks at me in a similar fashion to how he looked at the stars when we were on the dock in eroda.

his blue eyes stare upon me as though he admired me. as though i was out of his reach.

“y/n, ever since the day i met ye, i’ve watched ye bend over backwards and run yerself to yer breaking point to take care of everyone around ye.”

my cheeks are warm at his words and i open my mouth to dismiss the notion, but he speaks before i can.

“how long has it been since ye let someone care for ya?”

the question has my breath catching in my throat. i blink and i’m trying to find an answer as quickly as possible, but the harder i try, the less answers i find.

harry’s smile is bittersweet as he gently squeezes my hips and kisses the tip of my nose. i close my eyes and let out a shaky breath, resting my head against his chest and letting the smell of his cologne soothe me.

“let me.”

he doesn’t need to say more for me to understand, but he begs regardless.

“lass, you’ve done so much for me and, despite how much of a bully ye were at first,” he’s momentarily cut off as i push his shoulder jokingly, “i’ve never felt like someone was there for me until i met ye. i’m not perfect and i’m not as good at this as ye are, but i promise i’ll do my best for ye if you just let me.”

my mouth feels dry and my hands shake at the sincerity in his eyes. as my heart hammers against my chest, i process the reality of his words.

i have spent my whole life focused on finding a purpose and unconsciously shutting out anyone’s attempt at getting closer to me. i’ve spent my life working to earn the love and to know that it’s something that i’ve come to deserve. and now that harry’s seen that and chosen to still offer me it without needing the confirmation that i believed to be essential, i still can’t find it within myself to accept it.

forcing a smile to my face, i joke, “if i didn’t know any better, i would think you were asking to be my boyfriend.”

“oh lass, i plan on doing that somewhere much better than this hallway.”

the squeak that escapes me makes my face heat up and my eyes widen in embarrassment from the noise. my hand covers my mouth as fast as possible and i half-expect harry to laugh, but his face remains serious aside from the corner of his lip tilted up in amusement.

shoving his shoulder, i roll my eyes and turn back to look through the door once more, “not funny, harry.”

he shrugs and steps back whilst crossing his arms over his chest, “not a joke, y/n.”

i freeze and close my eyes to enjoy the feeling that flutters through my chest. it’s rare for me to be able to just enjoy simple moments, but it’s been happening more and more often ever since harry had strolled into my life with his mischievous grin and twinkling blue eyes.

a smile pulls my lips up before i can stop it as i face him and poke his chest teasingly, “keep that energy when i’m in the middle of coronation preparations in a couple months and am a menace to be around.”

harry chuckles and shakes his head, “if its anything like ye studying for yer midterms, i’ll just wear a helmet for when i piss ye off and ye throw a book at me to shut me up.”

throwing my head back to laugh at the memory, i remind him, “to be fair, you decided to sing sea shanties for an hour straight while i studied.”

squinting his eyes at me, he leans in, “ye know ye loved it, lass.”

sticking my tongue out at him, i’m struggling to answer him when suddenly the door opens and carlos is poking his head out.

“y/n, you’re my best friend and i would die for you, but i refuse to sit in here and listen to uma rant about the weather.”

harry snorts beside me and i instantly whack the side of his arm to quiet him as i smile apologetically at carlos.

“sorry, i lost track of time, carlos. we’ll be right in there.”

at my words, i can see harry sigh to himself and the conversation that we had when we first left the room comes rushing back to me. guilt curls in my veins and i’m speaking before i’ve fully processed my words.

“actually, carlos, i feel a little overwhelmed with everything that’s been going on and i know i volunteered to lead the meeting, but would it be okay if you closed it out for me? i would feel a lot better if me and harry just went back to our room and had some more peace time.”

at this, carlos looks slightly shocked, but he conceals it quickly. i can see the concern in his eyes because i’ve never backed down from a task that i’ve signed up for before, no matter the circumstances.

carlos glances over my shoulder at harry and they share a look that i don’t understand before carlos nods to me. he gives me a reassuring smile and pats my back, “yeah, don’t even worry ‘bout it. i told you i’d do anything for you, especially if it means getting away from uma sooner.”

he gives me another nod before leaving me and harry standing alone in the hallway.

i turn to face harry and find him staring down at me with a giant grin. his excitement is contagious and my face hurts from the smile that covers my face.

rocking back and forth on my heels, i bite my bottom lip and wiggle my eyebrows, “well, captain, i do believe you owe me a movie marathon?”

nodding his head with a serious expression, he heaves a loud sigh, “aye, i believe i do.”

we sit in silence for a moment before i shove him backwards and call over my shoulder as i sprint down the hallway, “RACE YOU THERE.”

his laughter echoes down the hall, forming a harmony with my own giggles and our footsteps as we run through the halls and up the stairs. at certain points, i was sure that harry’s athleticism or long limbs would allow him to pass me, but by some miracle, i stayed in the lead.

when we finally burst through the door to the attic and collapsed on the nearest bed in a wheezing mess, i gather my breath and huff out, “i… win.”

harry doesn’t even lift his head to look at me as he airily laughs and waves me off, “this time.”

movie marathon night progresses as normal. i find himself in one of harry’s shirts that isn’t ripped and laying in his bed as we watch some action movie that he picked. the small television at the end of the bed provides the only light in the room. my head is resting on harry’s chest as his hand combs through my hair gently.

my body feels more relaxed in this moment than it has in years. the quiet thudding of harry’s heart is like a lullaby for me and my eyes keep slipping closed temporarily before i jerk myself awake to further enjoy the moment with him.

the movie is close to ending now. a quick glance up to harry tells me that he hasn’t been paying attention for a majority of it. his eyes are locked on me and he smiles when i make eye contact with him.

rolling my eyes, i shift upwards on the bed to lay my head on the pillow so we’re laying directly next to each other. the subtle glow of the tv illuminates his face enough that i can barely make out his features.

in this quiet, relaxed environment, i feel safe to ask the questions that have plagued my thoughts.

“harry, where are you gonna go when summer starts?”

he blinks in surprise at the question, but doesn’t hesitate to answer, “wherever ye go probably.”

shifting my eyes back to the tv, i hope it’s too dark for him to see the grin that’s overtaken my face.

“no, i’m being serious. like, where would you want to go?”

this time, he takes a moment to think over his answer before he finally confesses, “i really liked the pub back in yer kingdom. if ye didn’t let me follow ye around, i’d probably go there for a while. why, lass? already trying to get rid of me?”

his voice is teasing, but i can hear some underlying worry so i firmly shake my head, “no, you’re not lucky enough to be free of me yet.”

i don’t need to look at him to know that he’s smiling at that moment.

“but to answer your question, i don’t know. i was just thinking about how i still haven’t found my story and was trying to see if you’ve found yours.”

harry doesn’t answer me and when i glance over at him, i find him already looking at me.

from there, we carry on different conversations as the credits roll on the screen until we’re both lulled into sleep by the quiet static coming from the tv speakers at the end of the movie.

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[where-did-the-groove-go]

I was tagged to do this agesss ago by @pineapplefulfillseveryneed, and @ron-do-i-get-to-sing-my-way (thanks!) - had meant to do it but never got around to it, so here we go!

Rules: Tag 10 (or less) people you want to get to know better

relationship status: Single, and content with that for now :)

favorite color: Yellow!! Though I also really love blue, specifically cerulean. There's getting to be a bit more of those colors in my closet again (in the form of darker blues and gold-yellows bc those colors look better on me) but also a lot of black and maroon these days.

song stuck in my head: At the exact time of typing, "This Is the Renaissance" (by Sparks, as if anyone seeing this needs to know) bc I made a reference to it earlier. I nearly always have a song stuck in my head but my brain is fickle with them, they usually switch frequently and I'll go through several different ones on any given day. Sometimes two songs will get stuck in my head at once, which is always cool.

three favorite foods: Chocolate, if that counts. Spaghetti carbonara. Bratkartoffeln. I never like this question because I could list dozens more.

last song I listened to: "I've Never Been High" (Sparks again). Absolutely gorgeous song. *Case in point, this is now my answer to question 3.

dream trip: I'm sorta taking it this month! I've been wanting to visit the UK for years now; I had plans to study abroad in England for a semester but covid ruined that. Unfortunately this time around I won't have the chance to go to Wales or further up north to Scotland and Ireland like I would've wanted, but I'll be visiting Liverpool and Birmingham, which are bucket list items for me as home of two of my favorite bands. And honestly, getting to see Sparks twice and having the chance to meet a few of my Sparks friends makes it a dream trip anyway!

last thing(s) i googled: "German fried potatoes" to answer question 4 above XD because I couldn't remember the name of the dish my Oma makes that I love. Aside from that, "can a squish become a crush"... I've certainly had feelings for the Maels for a while, but as time has gone on, and especially lately, I've noticed it's started to feel *different*, and different than any other "crush" I've had in the past, and I'm still trying to make sense of it all. Cue me reading as much as I can about the ace/aro experience with crushes and celebrity crushes and what romantic attraction actually feels like.

I think nearly all of my mutuals were already tagged for this when it was going around so I'm not going to directly tag anyone, but please consider yourself tagged if you haven't done this yet and want to/are willing to!