#not sure what this is but I'm trying something

[kaiidos]

nail polish

it tastes bad (and also burns)

idk i just wanted to

what is THE worst thing you've ever drank. all liquids acceptable. please tell me what it was, bonus points for why

[liloinkoink]

hello hello ddvau fans if you do not know me i do edits for ddvau and i have Known about this chapter for weeks and have been sitting on my rage at HG the whole time. and now it is released i need the people to see he is a bitch ass mf

anyway. starting off here. the very first thing HG says to Grian when talking about what happened is a threat

"i'm here to help you. i'm the best option you got, no one else will"

when i was editing for Doody, this line was just "i'm here to help." but Doody wanted it to come across somewhere in this chapter that HG has all the power in this situation and that HG wants Grian to know that. it was decided that the best spot to include that was right here, right off the bat. HG is Grian's only option and that is as much a promise as it is a threat. no one else will help Grian, and that includes saving him from HG if he doesn't tell HG what he wants to know

and then there's this page. when Grian isnt super forthcoming w info, HG pulls out Jimmy. HG knows better than anyone that Jimmy is completely innocent and that he had nothing to do w the attack--he's a victim here, and HG knows that better than anyone. he also knows, from being Grian and Jimmy's friend as a civilian for years, that Grian cares a lot about Jimmy, and is using that against Grian

he also knows from being a civilian and Jimmy's friend that Jimmy's pro-mutant stance isnt popular, and Jimmy could be framed if HG said something bad about him. HG is trying blatantly to use anti-mutant sentiments against Grian and Jimmy so that Grian will talk, in a moment Grian is already convinced he's going to be arrested for hiding his status as a mutant

(which: note that HG says he heard "rumors" about Jimmy's stance about mutants and his protests against the university's policies--it isn't rumors, HG knows this from being Jimmy's friend and coworker as Scar)

and then here, HG is the only one who was conscious and who was fully present for and remembers what happened during the MS attack. yeah, Tango was also there, but Tango is a known mutant, adn we've already seen people do not trust Tango and think Tango is dangerous--he's certainly not as trustworthy as HG, Superhero, Emerald Soldier, face of the military. he's the one people will trust most. what he says happened is what happened

HG says that yes, Grian’s secret is safe, but only because HG is choosing to keep it. Grian is safe because HG is allowing him to be. HG told everyone that Grian gained wings from the attack, and so HG won't arrest Grian. in this narrative which HG made up, Grian did not lie to the government and he was not always a mutant. HG said it, so it's true, even if he's lying. all HG has to do is change his mind and say that Grian was always a mutant who lied and hid his status from the government, and then Grian will be arrested. HG could change his mind at any time if Grian doesn't cooperate with him. he's very blatantly blackmailing Grian

fun fact! the original version of this line didn't have the "for now," but it was added in editing when Doody said they wanted it to be explicitly clear HG is threatening Grian

what HG says here is the truth. he isn't just representing the law--HG is above the law, and he isn't shy about making sure Grian knows that. he's willing to use anything in his disposal to get the information he wants, and he's willing to use anything available to him to make sure Grian complies with him. disguising it in friendly attitude and cookies and a phone number does not hide the fact HG was incredibly ruthlessly manipulative here

anyway. incredibly fun chapter. one of my favorites. i need DDVAU HG exploded

[vifilms]

FIND YOUR WINGS, VALENTINE

❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞

pairing. roommate!vi x femcoded!reader x exsituationship!caitlyn

caitlyn kiramman, a woman who yearned to have her cake and eat it too. violet, a simple girl who has fallen for someone emotionally unavailable and you — trying to disperse between heartbreak and a new love.

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: 17k wc. bartender!reader, melvika cameos, lesbian sex, semi-public sex, mutual finger-off, anal play, shy!vi, caitlyn is a cunt (in this), unfaithful mentality, valentine's day aura?

rayray rambles, chat! we made it. truthfully, this fic got away from in so many ways and i'm proud of myself for reigning it in. this originally was going to be a new years eve fic but it got so impossibly long that i wanted some more time with it. but i hope you enjoy it, this is my latest baby and a lot of love was put into it. happy valentines ♡

— special thank you to my amazing proofreader reader, @meganegatari, plu, i love you dearly.

‪‪and to my love, @sinstear, thank you for always listening to me ramble. happy valentines bubba, ily. even though you've already read 85 percent of this bc i was so excited about it

You could still feel her.

Like it was just last night with her finger buried deep inside, pinning you against your front door with her slender fingers, the soft pad of her fingers stuffed inside your pants, making you see stars. A last ditch effort to keep you around. 

Caitlyn likes to chase but she becomes a bambi in headlights once she’s caught her prey. There was desperation for the last cry, a final effort to keep you around. You’d never seen such a progressive emotion from her. 

Before tonight, every moment; every word said seems transactional. 

The hauntingly blue windows of her soul look anywhere but you. You wonder if it's a tactic. Refusing to make eye contact when she’s most vulnerable. As if one glance at you would cost her the rest of her life, an outcome she can’t afford. 

These days, she’s afraid of her own shadow. Unable to look anyone in the eyes, her spirit crushed like she’s anywhere but here. When you try to pull her back to shore, she recedes even further. 

Nothing is good enough. 

Caitlyn makes it abundantly clear that you aren’t. Insults bite into your skin like a bullet, the blow never to your heart, the place you desperately want it to be. 

But for now, you lick your wounds and you let her have what she wants. Even if she’s fading from your grip, you can still hold her, you can still pretend she loves you the same way, and you can cry after she leaves. You wonder if she sees you for who you really are or if Caitlyn only sees what benefits her. 

It’s a cycle that keeps you here, entangled with a woman who doesn’t have the decency to let you go. If Caitlyn is half the woman you believe her to be, she would have mercifully kicked you out of her apartment. 

Then, there’s Vi.

Nothing with her is serious, not even physical, she just whines and dines you, she holds you like she loves you. Above everything else; Vi makes you forget. Even if it’s with a soft smile, a harmless joke that’s so stupid it makes you giggle — it’s a moment of peace. One you crave more than desolation. 

There’s a softness to her that Caitlyn doesn’t allow. You’re sure that’s why the two didn’t work out. Caitlyn is rough. Kind when she needs something, vengeful when you get in her way but when she seeks retribution for her sins, it’s entirely too late. 

Vi is everything Caitlyn isn’t, what she’s incapable of being — a simmering token of hope you keep close to your chest. 

The more you think about it, the more your stomach twists in knots over your neediness. Entertaining Violet so she can quench your emotional thirst. And keeping Caitlyn around in good faith, a blind faith you place in her, hoping that you’re not wrong. 

You can’t be wrong. 

Somehow she’ll change, right? 

“Why do you have to leave so soon?” Her accent bites into you like an icy river, devoid of emotion as she reveals what she really wants. A silky blue robe untied as her full breasts sit perfectly on her chest. 

Almost as if it’s muscle memory, your thumbs circle over her pink nipples, it buds under your touch and Caitlyn does what she does best. 

She grasps onto the reins of control, refusing to let go. 

With a firm hand, she applies pressure on the back of your neck, beckoning your mouth to find home on her perfect tits and they do. At the moment, you’re her favorite toy and she lets you play.

Plump lips latching on her nipple while your free hand squeezes the other, your tongue flicking over the sensitive nipple as your teeth graze over the sensitive skin, a gasp falling from Caitlyn’s lips. 

“Pretty girl just needs her mouth put to work. Give the other some attention, she’s feeling quite lonely.” 

Doing as you're told, your desperate drool collects on her chest as you bite the swell of her chest, before sucking on her other nipple as if she’s lactating. Then the idea of Caitlyn’s belly swollen makes you whimper, moaning into her skin as she runs a finger up her own slit, your eyes looking up at her as you suck, flick, and bite. 

As if your life depends on it. Maybe it did. 

“Come back to bed, babygirl. I need my perfect little slut. I can fuck you in the shower just the way you like.” 

The ammunition of her poisonous words might as well have penetrate your bloodstream. Displaced trust turns you into another toy for her to use. Trapped perpetually in a cycle you had a hand in enabling. Words full of steam leave a third-degree burn on your skin, not a single drop of blood to be found. 

But even if you want to pull back, you can’t. 

There’s no further arguments as you slip into the lion’s den. With soul-crushing desire, your bare chest presses against the fogged glass, Caitlyn using her favorite dildo as she fucks you into the wall of glass, a dignity you posses withers with each thrust. Perfectly manicured slim fingers pull at your hair as an arch to your back is forced. 

With each thrust she becomes more aggressive, her pace is punishing and it’s meant for you to fall in her hands. But you’re resisting, holding off the orgasm and the high that comes with it. The higher you fall, the harder you crash. You know Kirakiller won’t be there to catch you. 

You’ll burden the fall on your own. 

“Cait, please—” 

The slap of your stretched lips being thoroughly obliterated by her brutal cock can be heard throughout her apartment. She wants to make you come, that’s clear, but she also wants to break you. There’s nothing more a Kiramman loves, hearing you beg for mercy. To have the pathetic and whiny girl who blindly loves her, shattering at her grip. 

“That’s not my name. You fucking know it’s not. Good little sluts say it, don’t they?” 

Before you can even process it, she slaps your ass, three times, sending the orgasm raging through you. All Caitlyn does is fuck your pretty face into the glass as you take every inch of her. Then her pace halts as your heavy breath is heard over the shower. She turns the water off and you’re stuck there, unable to move.

Afraid. 

 Your heart would collapse right with you. 

Caitlyn moves swiftly, like a knight coming in the dead of knight to steal the princess. On all fours, she rummages through the cabinet before locating the precious wand. With a profound smirk, she grips the handle as if it’s an extension of her limb. 

“Looks like you’re getting punished today, babygirl. How do you wanna take it?”  

The lines blur together over the next few hours until you’re stumbling out of the apartment. Caitlyn not directly kicking you out of her home but your stay is only welcome for as long as the fucking window is open. It’s nearly three hours past midnight, tears in your eyes as you tread home with a gaping hole punctured with her sharpest end of her carefully placed blade. 

You wonder if she’s always been like this. Hot and hungry for power, ready to hurt anyone in order to get it. The angry flesh begs to be fed, and she gives in each time. Even when it means she sees the love depleted from your eyes, or when you refuse to make eye contact, or like tonight when she watches you hold in tears to escape out of her apartment. 

Some nights, you did want to be handled with a gentle hand but it’s not something Caitlyn gives. 

Anything more than a generous hand and greedy lips begging to lap at your cunt and Caitlyn comes up short. Living up to her name to the fullest. 

Kirakiller, they called her. 

There’s a dozen reasons for her name. How she slaughters everyone on the pitch,  academically she’ll make you feel inferior to her own privileged, private education prior to university. How she kills your spirit if you aren’t someone she sees as an exceptional academic student for Piltover University. 

All of it seems to be a game for her. With Cassandra Kiramman as the dean, the board members sit heavily in her overflowing pocket, she runs things as she sees fit. Her daughter being taken care of and on top of the world is her number one priority. There’s been a dozen to come after the Kiramman’s and none have been successful. Murmurs of corruption grace the hallowed halls but not a soul dares to challenge the wealth and power of the prestigious bloodline of the Kirammans.  

Caitlyn “Kirakiller” Kiramman associating with someone who was merely on scholarship wasn't in Cassandra’s plans. Even if you didn’t even know it yet, you were too low on the totem pole to be associated with the future of a daunting legacy. An entire life laid out for Cait before she even took her first breath. 

It was dumb to buzz her up to the apartment. Even more idiotic to respond to her texts in the first place but besides all her failed attempts, she still tries to worm her way through your heart to take what she believes is owed. Just like last week, you let her. 

She leaves when you pretend to fall asleep after, the two of you telling yourselves it’ll be the last time, but it won’t be. 

It’s a vicious cycle, one has your insides spinning, your stomach churning and your heart aching. But you’re too weak to end. It’s a tale as old as time. You want something more and Caitlyn can’t be bothered to be committed to the wrong type of girl. 

It’s all about appearances and you’re not good enough. 

Cassandra, the respectable dean and the mother who is the puppeteer of her daughter’s life, behind the scenes pulling the strings in order to maintain image, status. She holds it closer than her own blood; a need for her bloodline to prosper and Dean Kiramman will trample anyone’s heart to complete the task. 

Whether she wants to fight against her mother’s future or not? You didn’t know. 

Truly, you never know what she wants, besides getting herself off or getting you off, Caitlyn was stuck between a world she’s born for and one that’s decided for her. A child acting out but waiting until college to do so. 

Kirakiller. 

That’s what they called her. Ruthless in all of her conquests, never calling back, never fucking the same girl again, it wasn’t something Kirakiller did. She used, abused, and moved onto the next one. 

But for some reason, she’s incredibly stuck on you. 

The new year puts you at a distance when Cait refuses to bring you home for the holidays. Of course, the fight rages as soon as she’s done fucking you. 

“What do you think this is?” 

“You tell me.” 

There’s a look in your eyes, gleaming and sorrowful, the rejection crystal clear. That’s all any of this has been. A severe procrastination tactic to put off what you want, her. 

What makes it worse is Caitlyn knows it but she’s still here, trying, and who the hell knows why. 

Hope. A poor woman’s faith guts you, ripping your insides of love and prosperity. In your line of vision, you just see claws tearing at your skin, all flesh raw and bleeding as she begs for more. 

A wish that you hope for every time you see her. This time she’ll choose differently, she’ll be kind this time. I’ll be enough to love. This will be the moment. 

But when she doesn’t, the accent you love so much burns you at the stake, you’re screaming on deaf ears. Begging for her to hear just one, but she snuffs you out. Like the moonlight you bring, she pretends you don’t call to her like the moon pulls the tide. 

Instead, you’re met with Caitlyn’s greed. 

“Why do I think this is? I expect some basic level of human compassion but you’ve forgotten that too. I’ve always given you the benefit of the doubt. Even when everyone tells me you’re fucking other girls besides me, even when I see with my own eyes how you act when you think I’m not around. You clearly don’t respect me. Every time I’ve tried to have this conversation, you avoid me. Do you think I deserve that?” 

“There is nothing to even discuss. This is nothing.” Her accent is sharp, cutting right through your heart. A woman you love too deeply reaffirming how little she thinks of you. 

Dismissal. 

Absence. 

You are nothing, might as well have fallen from her lips. 

Her heart is ice cold,  her piercing eyes bite like the bitter wind of winter. A slim view of fire rattling within her dark blue eyes, pupils dilate so much they practically turn black. 

You feel your stomach tense, the pit in your stomach has once returned, denying you of what feels so real to you. 

It’s just a game for her. 

Always a game Caitlyn has to win. 

“Fine. Then leave. But don’t come back next time, don’t text me when you’re lonely or horny, don’t call me when everyone else won’t hear you out. Forgot about me and let’s be done with it, yeah? Go back to those girls you love to fuck so much. The ones that are bright, shiny, untouched by your venomous heart.” 

“I will. They sure will be a hell of a lot better lay than you, maybe they’ll let me fuck their ass.” 

You scoff but your expression is stone cold as you watch her struggle to pull her clothes on. There’s no sudden movements made. Certainly no apologies. 

Once Caitlyn fully dresses, she waits there as if you’ll change your mind. A wish she’s so desperately hanging onto as your eyes remain cold. A shiver is sent up her spine — you’d never been more ruthless — and for the first time her chest feels tight at the loss of you. 

“It’s what you want. A pretty rich thing your mother will accept and the control in the bedroom you need since the real Kiramman controls every aspect of your life, even your love life. Good luck, you’ll need it.” 

“You’ll come begging back, you always do.” 

You want to choke Caitlyn with the smirk she’s currently wearing. 

“We’ll see about that, Kirakiller. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.” 

In an instant her face drops, her acute lips turning into a frown, cursing under her breath before she finally slams the door. It’s only then do you allow yourself to scream into your pillow, agony coursing through you, desperation, and most of all — a rage that wouldn’t be quenched. 

—

The fairy lights, softly winking at you each time the sequence goes off. Violet craved to put them up around Christmas but never bothered to take them down. Perfectly, they fit with your shared home. The small apartment stuck between the suburbs and the city, close enough to campus where it was only a short drive, the two of you carpooling or Vi moving her schedule around to drop you off. 

It happened to work out for the two of you. You didn’t think you’d get to be so lucky. Finding a decent roommate is a tall order, but now the two of you are inseparable and you couldn’t imagine your life any different. 

If not for her, you didn’t think you'd survive spending the holidays alone. 

Caitlyn made sure to isolate you but Violet holds you close.  

The memory of new years solidifies the budding infatuation growing within you; as much as it excites you, it sends a freezing shiver down your spine. Like a bitter winter to an evergreen bush, who knows if it’ll last the season without one moment to be basked in the sun. 

— 

New Years Eve, 2024. 

Sevika nursing an old fashioned. Trying to avoid the smell of cheap corona and budweiser intruding her relaxed nostrils as Mel sips on a glass of wine. Her smaller frame leans into Sevika’s arm looped through hers as their hips nearly become conjoined. They watch as Violet watches you. You’re standing there alone, fending off a few women who try to make a move on you. 

Whispers of your former fling, Caitlyn Kiramman make their way across campus, the colossal cunt raging her anger during practice. Just as you’ve been reminded by her teammates who blame you for her toddler tantrum. Violet’s heart sinks to her chest as she watches Caitlyn make a straight shot for you. 

The second she entered the room, Violet could feel the dread filling her body. Half because seeing her reminds her of all the horrors, everything she let Caitlyn do to her. Now, Caitlyn’s moved on to her next victim and she wonders if you’ll ever truly escape from her. 

“Do you think we should–” Vi speaks softly, a murmur she didn’t intend for anyone else to hear. “...interrupt?” 

“Calm down, casanova.” Sev interjects letting the whiskey soothe her throat. 

“Easy for you to say, coupled up love birds.” Vi rolls her eyes as she watches the scene unfold before her. 

The light in her eyes cracks, like a sparkler losing its flame. Each time Caitlyn attempts to worm back in your life, you’ve always let her. Even when she’s the last person who deserves even a moment of your time. It takes anything in her not to wince when you let Caitlyn touch your arm but after a moment you push her off. 

Well, that’s new. 

“You should go over there.” Mel chimes in, “Caitlyn would surely run for the hills then. She’s all bark but no bite.” 

“Go be her knight in shining armor.” Sev says it like it’s a bad thing, her sarcasm biting into the air. 

All Vi continues to scratch away at the label unraveling from the condensation, just as her heart rips each time Caitlyn gets closer to you. It’s a strange feeling. Her ex-girlfriend and the person she loves. Nearly spiteful her heart becomes, almost wanting to fling herself off a bridge. It’s more than Vi wishes to deal with and she tells herself she won’t. 

You’re not worth the trouble, she’s just making her feelings bigger than they actually are, right? 

Whatever Caitlyn says pisses you off enough to throw your drink in her face, coating her from hot to toe in the vodka cranberry Vi had made for you earlier in the night. 

“You’ll eat those actions, babygirl. Next time, it’ll be you who is soaked and we both know it.” 

Caitlyn screams for all to hear as she checks you with her shoulder before heading upstairs. 

It’s five minutes before midnight and Violet watches as you crumble, running outside, needing to catch some air. You need something to make you feel less suffocated. Even with a drink thrown in her face, Caitlyn still finds a way to get an upper hand. 

“Vi, would you be a dear and check on her? Sev and I will be there in a sec.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Violet sees you in the corner of her eye, trying not to break down, but she notices the tears threatening to spill. 

“Don’t look so glum princess or you’re going to make me cry and nobody wants to see that.”  The lightness of her tone makes you chuckle. Vi’s trying to make you laugh and she succeeds. 

Everyone pours outside as the clock strikes closer to midnight, Mel and Sevika come out but they keep their distance. Vi kneels at your feet, gently wiping the tears away you finally let fall. The small hiccups leaving your chest as you feel inadequate, wondering if anyone would miss you if you just melted away — not a single trace of you to be found. 

“She makes me feel so small, even when I leave, she wants more of me. I have nothing left to give.” You sob, hands shaking as you make fists trying to stabilize yourself. “No one understands how…how fucking awful and addicting she is.” 

“I do.” 

“Of course you, Violet. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. She’s just…” 

“Frustrating?” You nod, trying to laugh off the heartbreak but the familiar glee doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“And now I’m alone, on new years.” You say, cursing at the premature fireworks illuminating the sky. “While she goes to shag whoever wants to clean the vodka cranberry with their tongue.” 

I want to taste the cranberry on yours. 

Violet doesn’t speak those words. It’s just a dream — one that only drips in her mind until her thoughts pull at her like a pomegranate as it sheds from the skin. 

“She’s an idiot for letting you go. Anyone here knows that.” 

“Really? Funny ‘cause I’m here single. Caitlyn just wants me to crawl back to her with me on all fours just so she can say, i told you so, in that insufferable English accent. God, I wanna rip it from her throat.” 

“Then don’t give her the satisfaction.” 

“Easier said than done.” You say as everyone counts down from ten, “At least we still have each other.” 

Vi smiles, her powder-blue eyes sweet on you. There’s nothing more she wants than to kiss you. But Vi will screw the both of you if she moves too quickly. 

3…2…1! 

The buzz of the party reaches an all-time high and you’ve never felt so close to hell. Watching as everyone kisses the person they love, the gleeful-holiday making them smile as they wrap in the warmth of their partner. Vi sees how sad you are, how close you are to breaking, so she does something stupid. An action that will only get her heart in all kinds of trouble. 

Nearly almost planting her lips on yours, but saves herself with a peck to the apple of your cheeks. 

She blushes and you smile. 

She considers it to be a win when she gets a positive reaction from you. That’s all she really wants, to hear you laugh and you do. 

Again. 

The both of you speak nothing of it, the heartache too heavy and the love in Violet’s eyes too bright. You rest your head against her shoulder as the both of you watch the fireworks shining the midnight sky — it feels awfully like a fresh start. 

God knows you could use one. 

— 

The last thing you want is to miss her but you do. 

Longing instilled the moment she infected your blood; making each beat of your heart consistently flow for her. You couldn’t admit it, not her or yourself. It’s what she counts on. For you to slip, to venture back into the lion’s just so she can gut you from root to stem. 

With your finger hovering over her number for the past few weeks, each time, nearly a moment from giving back into her needs. Not once had she called, texted, or even looked at your way. Not even when she sat across from you in the library last Monday. Before her tongue found home in the girl who threw herself in Caitlyn’s lap. Promptly deciding that was enough studying for the day. 

The nights are the worst, you stay secluded in your room, tired of thinking about her and everything that’s transpired. How much you miss her, how much you love her — wondering if you ever should have — and how much you clung to this version of her that maybe just never existed. 

It isn’t until Vi tries to get you out of the house that you realize how heartbroken you actually feel. How unbearable it would be to do anything but the bare minimum that’s expected for you to survive. 

“C’mon, it won’t be bad.” Vi throws herself in bed with you, “You’re with me you’ll have a fantastic time.” 

Vi cheekily smiles, “Plus, I can’t go without you. Those are the rules.” 

“Oh really?” She nods, the sincerity reaching her eyes so blindingly, it makes the swell in your chest ache. 

“Basically the law, so if you don’t want me to handcuff you, you’ll listen.” 

Raising an eyebrow at the question, you watch her as your roommate goes into the closet and comes out with three dresses back in hand. 

“You always look, um u-uh, really pretty in these.” 

Violet’s always been like this. Unsure, a little bit flirty, and with a heart so gentle you would be too afraid to hold it in the palm of your hand. All it took was one introduction from Sevika and the two of you instantly clicked. 

You cooked at the housewarming party for Mel and Sevika, in the middle of having a breakdown when you didn’t have crucial ingredients you thought you did have. It’s when Violet came to your rescue. Already in the kitchen watching you nearly have a panic attack over not being better prepared, she instantly grabbed the keys to her truck, off to assist. 

With your former roommate flaking out after the second semester in your apartment off campus, and Violet coming off a messy breakup, the two of you helped each other out. 

“Which one is your favorite?” It’s an innocent question. 

It really is. 

Then you remember the last time you wore it, Violet unable to keep her eyes off you when she thought you weren’t looking or how she would meet your eyes when you caught her staring. Dramatically clearing her throat as she scratches the nape of her neck, bashfully blushing. 

“The black one. You always look beautiful, any of them really. That one is just my favorite.” 

Feeling the fabric of the silk dress, the neckline is plunging and the back is open until it reaches your lower back and you don't dare bend down to pick up anything in this little number. 

“Someone’s being sweet tonight.” You smile softly, kissing her cheek before you disappear into the bathroom. It’s long before you come out, but when you’re ready Vi nearly has to do a double take. 

Visibly, she gulps. 

Fuck, she forgot how amazing you look in that dress. 

“Where’s it at this time?” 

“You remember Natalie?” 

“Oh?” 

“It’s not—” 

“I didn’t say it was.” But you’re smirking and Vi has no other option but to groan into her hands. 

“You were thinking about it.” Harmlessly, you shrug. 

“Regardless, it’s some new girl who’s gonna be on the team this season. It’s kind of a get together before the season starts.” 

“You’re taking me to the kick-off banquet?” Vi winces as your voice shrieks, slightly piercing her eardrum in the process. 

“Uh,” Vi runs a hand through her vibrant, messy head of hair. “Uh, yeah. It’s really not a big deal.” 

“So, why not Natalie?” 

“Does it matter?” Vi counters. She becomes uncomfortable about how she would have to answer the question. There wasn’t a way for her to answer without fully exposing herself so she pulls at her cuticles until she’s slightly bleeding before she stuffs them inside her pockets. 

She doesn't want to have the conversation, and honestly, neither do you. 

“The she-devil won’t be there. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? One night for yourself, there’s a little dancing, we can have a couple of drinks—” 

“Y-You’ll dance with me…in front of everyone?” You sound more unsure of yourself than you ever have. The words are foreign on your tongue as if you’re speaking another language. 

“Is that a statement or a question?” Vi chuckles before she stands up from your bed, “Give me ten minutes and we’ll head out. We can stop and get some burgers. The food they cater is ass anyways. All that money from the snobby rich parents and Piltover University can’t even splurge on anything decent.” 

It doesn’t take long before she’s emerging into the living room, her white button up has the top three buttons undone, the tattoos creeping on the outside of her neck visible as does her name she has on her cheek. The one you chastise her for consistently. 

“You ready?” Violet stuffs her essentials in her deep pockets before taking you in. 

“Yeah, I think so, I was just waiting for you.” 

She seriously has to assume your exes are severely ill for ever letting you out of their sight. Violet despises how rapid the beat of her heart is, how shaky her hands become when she offers a hand to help you off the couch. Only two nights ago, it was the two of you cuddled up, Vi shrieking in fear from your favorite horror film. 

The terror in her powder-blue eyes made you laugh. Violet sees it as a big enough consolation for her downright distress. 

You’re too gorgeous for your own good. 

She may be pushing her luck tonight. Even pulling you out of bed makes her feel slightly accomplished. Between work and class, your mattress has been your chosen place to nurse your heartache. A few of your friends had been in and out, trying to get you to grab a fresh breath of air, or find the bottom of a bottle of tequila but all had failed. 

“You look….” You bite your lip, watching as your eyes drag over her frame, overwhelmed by just how well she cleans up. 

“That bad, huh?” Violet smirks as she makes her way over to you, and with your heels, she can’t help but admire your height. She supposes she does have a type. Who can blame her? 

“Something like that.” Your face is burning, the world doesn’t seem so bleak when she locks the door with one hand, her left warm-calloused hand holding yours in a firm grip. 

“How do I look?” You do a twirl, there’s a smile you try to contain when her eyes drag over you, taking all the time in the world as open the door to her truck, guiding you inside. 

“You look beautiful but that’s no surprise, princess.” 

The drive is quiet. Violet itches to place the palm of her hand on your thigh but she resists. With a quiet mind, she listens as you ramble about a new album you listened to earlier and she hands you her phone so you can play it. Immediately, you’re bewildered at the trust. 

Caitlyn wouldn’t even let you use her phone when yours died. Ordering the uber herself as she left you on the curb as she took her sports car and faded into the intersecting street. 

It’s only a twenty minute drive to the diner and the red neon sign greets you, the outside wall painted in a pastel-yellow, it’s gaudy and nearly unpleasant to the eye but there’s the charm about it. Zaun outlasted the gentrification of the corporate pollution, still one of the only places to remain standing and family owned. 

You’re led to a booth where you both take a seat, glancing over the menu as you decide what you want, trying to make a decision in your mind is something that drowns you like a misty fog at the crack of dawn. 

Finally you settle on a burger and so Violet. The conversation is easy with her. Everything seems to flow with a simpleness you find yourself reaching for. Like the last copy of your favorite book at the library, you crave to wrap your fingers around the crispy edges, sinking your smell into the spine of a new novel. Where the beginning feels like a first kiss — blissful notions of someone new — when the thought of love doesn’t seem so jarring. 

Before you’re terrified of getting your heart shattered into a million pieces. Before love morphs into something violent, you turn to Violet and you wonder if she’s ever been scared to love. Does it come easy for her? Would she let herself go for the right person? You feel too broken to ever let yourself fall that freely again. 

But she has blue eyes, a scar on her upper lip making her more charming, and tattoos adorning her back that only attribute to the surface level of her allure.  

Shortly after you sink into your thoughts, ones you don’t believe you should even have, you're ravaging your burger when Violet notices the attention you're getting. It’s obvious. To everyone. But you just talk to her about anything but the elephant in the room, you’re so chatty tonight she might even think you’re nervous. 

But it’s Vi. There’s nothing to ever be nervous about. 

Nothing at all. 

“God, this was such a good call. Who knew I needed to bury my sorrows in a pound of grease.” 

“Carbs. They are a beautiful thing.” Vi winks, you chunk a fry at her but she catches it in her mouth. 

You finish your food in silence, Vi smiling as she takes another sip from the cane-sugar coca cola. The sweetness of the syrup  coats the back of her throat as she watches you watch her. She wants to say something but the timing is wrong. She wonders if you see a future or a rebound, maybe even just a friend, only time can tell and Vi fears she would wait a lifetime waiting for you to figure it out. 

It’s how she loves. Free, without restrictions, even if she still mourns the love she once had burned to flames — you make her forget it all. Renewed in holy water, she basks in a touch that hasn’t scorned her, freely washing her of past sins.  

“What happened to Natalie? I thought things were good.” 

“For a time, yeah.” Violet says something without saying much. 

“Vi, are you being coy?” 

The blush coats her cheeks as she tries to shy away from the conversation. She feels the heat from your attention, the way her heart beats a million times per second as you have her cornered. Different in a way she would typically imagine when you came to mind. Even if she does try to stop herself, Vi can’t help but wonder about you and if you would feel the same way she does. 

If you do and just aren’t allowing yourself to let go of the wall you have up in the horrendous shape of Caitlyn Kiramman.  

The way you pry, your bold eyes slightly squinting at her as if you’re already figuring out the self-righteousness of the sinner. Secrets she hides under lock and key but even on a good day, the confession bubbles on her tongue as she catches herself choking on her own spit. You’re always so careful of the questions you leave hanging in the air. 

In a moment of frustration, Violet thinks of how Caitlyn’s manipulative patterns may have sinked into your brain. She knows that much — the blue-haired witch has done the same to her. Making you question everyone’s motives, wondering if anyone could ever be truthful. 

But others can. 

Caitlyn can’t. 

Vi distracts herself, avoids the question even if it is just a second to recollect her thoughts, a minute to buy time and divert from this conversation. It’s a truth she doesn't want unraveled. 

“What’s the saying? Don’t kiss and tell.” She grumbles as she stuffs her face with another bite of the beefy patty. “But we just didn’t work out s’all. Plus, I’m not looking for anything serious I guess. She was.” 

Another lie but Vi keeps her lips tight. She doesn’t need you to know why her latest attempt at a relationship blew up in her face, catastrophically. 

“Maybe you and Kirakiller should date again.” You tease. 

“Take that back. She’s the devil’s spawn and I’m still sorry you learned the difficult way. Just like me.” 

“Well, she definitely lives up to the name.” 

“I wish she would have changed her ways. You didn’t deserve to get hurt at all and especially by her.” Violet reaches across the table, soothing the back of your hand, rubbing circles into your skin. The action is sweet, lighting your skin ablaze with goosebumps as you watch her show affection, especially where other people can see. 

At the moment, you want to be claimed by her. Marked as Violet’s girl and you would be proud to be. You close the thought from your mind as soon as it opens. This isn’t a date. Just because Violet flirts doesn’t mean she’s interested. The two of you are roommates. 

Pull yourself together. 

Jesus Christ. 

She knows how much everyone can’t stop looking at you. The diner, outside the gas station even when Vi told you to stay in the car, and then the banquet. But you latched onto her, practically glued to her side as new sponsors came to speak with the new head captain. Vi’s nursing a beer when the music hits and she grins. 

“Are you ready for this?” 

What is she talking about? 

Vi latches her hand with yours as she pulls you to the open floor, only a few couples begin to lightly sway to the classical being played. It’s different from what she was used to but she was nothing if not resourceful. 

“I don’t bluff, princess, and I certainly don’t lie.” Vi tugs you close as you make no arguments, she leads as you find shining faith in her eyes. 

It’s a new feeling, unfamiliar as it courses through your body. Vi isn't ashamed of you, as a friend, as a roommate; she’s full of warmth when she glances at you. Sending a sense of belonging through your skin, a home you want to throw yourself in before the foundation has even been laid. 

Violet’s too good at this. You secretly love it but you pretend like you hate it. As if getting attention from someone as kind and hot as her is a bad thing. It’s nearly too much, almost making you sick with how much you’re enjoying being held by someone who actually wants to hold you. 

She’s not playing chess and using you as a pawn. 

It’s a recurring thought you have to remind yourself of, she’s not Caitlyn. 

Violet doesn’t make promises she doesn’t keep, she doesn’t say careless compliments to only have sex with you. With a firm palm on your back, calluses kissing your spine, she’s looking at you — so much so it feels as if she’s looking right through you. 

 “You don’t have to—” She twirls you around before you can protest, guiding you back into her gentle care. 

Vi shrugs, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me princess but I’d never go back on my word.” 

The other couples start to move on the dance floor as each song blends into the next. 

“That’s refreshing.” 

Violet hand placed on your exposed back feels so warm it nearly burns her skin. Leaning in, leaning her head against yours. You smell of vanilla and something else entirely too sweet, maybe jasmine or fresh lilies. The delicate breath kissing your neck feels tempting. You would never consider yourself to be a siren, but with each promise laced up in your tongue, you wish to serenade her into a future with you. 

“So are you, sweetheart.” Violet pulls away just enough to look at you, her temple presses against yours. 

You can hear the shake in her breath, her grip around her back tightening like she’s trying to restrain herself. But she doesn’t restrain, she leans in, the tip of her pierced nose kissing yours. If either of you moved an inch forward, your lips could taste hers. 

Is her chapstick cherry, strawberry, or maybe even blueberry? They look irresistible as the glisten, you need to crave the ache deriving from your bones. Violet has itched herself into every part of your life and she’s the only one to make you feel a sliver of joy again. 

“We should…” The dazed woman doesn’t even know what she’s pleading for. This is all she’s been wanting but somehow her heart is pulling away, terrified to be crushed under the unforgiving weight of rejection. 

“Yeah.” You say. Somehow understanding what she wishes for, silently you’re able to see her exposed skin, raw to the notion of a love dying to bloom in the beginning of spring. 

Violet kisses your cheek again and somehow you feel the warmth of the fresh season. In the February rain, there is still sunshine spilling over the clouds — washing you in hope again. 

— 

The rest of your life fell back in place as if she never existed, except the ache in your heart that wouldn’t stop. You did your best to ignore it. Word got around Caitlyn went back to fiercely fucking. Apparently instead of sleeping just once a week while she was with you, she went back to her ever-growing appetite, nearly every night. It isn’t too difficult for her; not when there’s a line of women waiting to be at her beck and call. 

You threw yourself into your studies, picking more shifts at the bar and hoping she doesn’t pull any of her usual stunts, showing up drunk and begging to fuck. 

One more time, baby. This could be good for the both of us. 

Caitlyn uprooted the past semester of uni and she didn’t even have the decency to apologize. All your friends with a knowing look of — I told you so — without actually dispersing the words from their tongue. It feels too much like a blurry dream but Sevika is good at making you smile. Even if you wanna throw yourself against a wall until the memory of Kirakiller fades for good. 

The night had been busier than expected but nothing you and Sevika couldn’t handle. Even if there’s an ache in your knees, the muscles in your shoulders strained, it feels nice to just work. Everything flees your mind, all the insecurities bubbling inside you escaping to get out. The emotions you’re attempting to keep at bay and failing. 

“You good, kid?” 

“Yeah, life’s just a shit fire. Nothing new.” 

Continuing to wipe the bar down for new customers, you clean off some glasses in front of you, as you dry your hands on a clean towel before tending to the other side of the bar. 

The rest of the night comes to you in a blur. You’re flirty enough with the men to ensure a nice tip but when one tries to get too handsy, you tell them to fuck off or Sevika will throw them out. They eye up her frame as she makes her way over, height hitting at over six feet, her muscles visible through the fitted black tank she chose tonight. If you didn’t know any better, she would terrify you. 

“Got a problem here?” 

“I’m not sure, what about you boys? Do you think there’s an issue?” 

With a quick shake to their heads, they take a nervous sip of their beer and the rest of the night goes along swimmingly. It’s last call when you spot the familiar pink-haired roommate, nursing her second bottle of beer it seems. 

“How long has she been here?” 

“Came during the rush for you, but didn’t wanna bother you. She’s been waiting for a few hours.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your tone goes high and squirrelly, murderous eyes finding her glimmering, silver eyes. 

“Well, it's only Vi, right?” Sevika smirks. 

That itself was a loaded question. If you’d been asked six months ago, it would have been a flat friend but now Vi had somehow turned into a friend. The almost-kiss you’ve been having dreams about. How she would kiss you — would it be tender — or would she be depraved about it in a way that would have you bruising your knees at the speed of lighting. 

“Stop that. Vi is as harmless as a puppy.” 

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” 

“Wasn’t Kirakiller here last month waiting for you and you didn’t bat an eye? Plus, the only thing she seems to be jealous of is Vi. The diva had a meltdown when she saw Vi picking you up after the end of your shift last week, or that’s just what I heard.” 

“Mel needs to stop telling you so much.” 

“Pillow talk. It’s a beautiful thing. Isn’t it?” 

Rolling your eyes, you throw your apron at her, collecting your tips for the night. Vi still looks innocent as ever, Gert making friendly conversation with her as you just watch her. Her thick, wool beanie matches her hair and you can’t help but think of how cute she looks. Her fingerless gloves you always chastise her about, doing very little to keep her warm. 

You knew she had a date tonight. Hell, it makes you nervous why she’s even here. Racking your brain with some excuse to get you out of this. What’s so important she couldn’t wait until you got home? She waits up for you every night. Doesn’t let herself fall asleep until she hears the familiar jingle of your keys outside the door. Pretending to read the book in her hands like she’s casually perched on the couch at three in the morning for any other reason. 

“Well, she’s one of the good ones and I’m not.” 

You’re frustrated as you split the tips, handing Sevika her half. Things with Vi had been more than complicated. You weren’t sure if you were over Caitlyn but you also knew things with Vi were getting closer to an edge you couldn’t come back from.

The flashbacks of the banquet you attended as her plus one just a few weeks ago haunt you. Her lips so close to yours, the hitch in her breath and whimper you let out that stopped it all. 

You would be an idiot to ruin the best friend you’ve ever had. A deep secret buried in your mind tells you how much of a bigger idiot you would be if you let her slip right through your fingers. 

“Doesn’t matter if you are or not. She sees something in you. Count yourself lucky. Oh, and before you head off Mel wants to invite you over for Valentine’s. Some big party she’s throwing. You know how she is. Be there or she’ll come and find you if you resist.” 

The wink Sevika sends you is insufferable. Similar to her attitude this entire night. 

“Yeah yeah, tell Mel I’ll be there.” 

“Now that’s the loving spirit, lovergirl.” 

You make your way over and Gert’s hand is touching Vi’s forearm, a look in your eyes that sends an annoying pit to your stomach. Gert’s eyes flutter and her smirk is evident but Vi only gulps when you make your way over. 

Gert may just take your attitude for tiredness but Vi knows better. Your two seconds from blowing up the way your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding as you fight to act like a complete and utter cunt. Vi’s a very pretty girl. Women flirt with her all the time. It’s not anything you didn’t know but to see it up and close was new for you. 

As was the jealousy practically sprouting out of you. 

“Well call me, yeah?” Gert’s eyes sparkle, dodging you entirely as she walks away and into the back. 

Violet gulps as it’s just the two of you. 

“Why are you here?” You snip, arms crossed over your chest, unknowingly making your cleavage even more apparent. “Sev says you’ve been here for hours.” 

“I came to see you but you looked busy.” 

“Mhm, yeah. Busy. You look awfully busy.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

But you ignore her. 

You rolled your eyes, the irritation raging within you. Fucking Gert. You drunkenly told her about your confusing feelings for Vi and she took that as Vi's single. It’s slim pickings out there but fuck, did Vi have to entertain it right in front you? 

But you didn’t like to think about how she did. You weren’t dating, you weren’t fucking, you essentially were just roommates who cuddled sometimes, or went on these almost dates with and almost kissed. 

Vi hasn't been dating since Natalie but she’s free to do as she pleases. It’s a colossal hit to your pride but you can’t be mad. You are, but you can’t be. 

You really cannot be doing this. 

Vi is just a friend. Only a friend. That’s it.  

“I’m going but Gert will be off soon. Goodnight, Vi.” 

It’s short and not so sweet. Swiftly turning around as you are practically running out the door. The chill of February hits you first and then you hear Vi and her voice calling after you but you just keep walking. Hoping she’ll give up and go back. You’re a lost cause, anyone with eyes can see it. 

“Would you stop running away?” You turn around and Vi is so close that she runs into you, her arms wrapping around your waist to stop you from falling. “Jesus, are you insane? It’s fucking freezing out here. I don’t care if you’re mad right now, I’m driving us home.” 

“Violet, let me—” 

“No. You’re not getting sick. It’s past midnight. It’s not safe. We are not arguing about this.” You pout as she holds your hand and practically drags you back to her black truck. Opening the door for you as you get in, shutting the door once you’re situated before she gets in on the other side. 

Igniting the engine, it revs on and while the car warms up Vi sighs, rather loudly. She’s always good about waiting until she calms down to speak. Letting the anger roll off her, the frustration you’re sure was caused by you. She slides the beanie off her head as the car reaches a normal temperature and runs her fingers through beautiful pink strands being kissed by the light of the moon. 

The natural fluff to the strands is restored, no longer inflated by the beanie you had embroidered her full name on. You can’t keep your eyes off of her. She must feel it because Vi catches your gaze and instantly her eyes go soft. It’s too much so you turn your eyes away; focusing on the snow falling on the windshield. 

“What’s going on? I’ve been patient for weeks but something changed and you’re not telling me.” 

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” 

“The truth would be a good place to start.” 

Vi sighs, again, when you’re silent. No smartass rebuttal, no snide remark, not even an exasperated curse underneath your breath. Complete and utter silence.

But you feel trapped.

You’re terrified. Vi is too warm, loving, and painfully-pure. She might not know it, but she’s the girl you come back for. The one who you bring home to meet the family, the one who will bring you breakfast in bed when you feel under the weather and the one who will make sure you feel loved every single day. 

When other people figure that out, if Gert does, it’s over for you. Because maybe it was foolish, pathetic, and possibly tragic but you were just trying to sort yourself out long enough to see if you want those things with her. Now, it’s only a matter of time before she dotes on someone else who can give her everything she deserves. 

You should let her have this, it’s far better than her pleading eyes begging for something you’re not sure you can give. Caitlyn broke pieces you're not sure are repairable, parts of yourself that can’t be put back together. You didn’t even realize you had been crying until Vi’s wiping away your tears. 

The pad of her thumb is careful as she wipes all the tears away. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, princess. It’s just you and me.” 

“I-I can’t. It’s too…I just can’t.” You confess, sniffling as you try and calm yourself down. 

Vi guides you into the crook of neck as she does her best to hold you over the middle console of her truck. “It’s okay, princess. Shh, I’m right here.” It’s then that your sobs wrack your body and Vi decides she needs you as close as possible. Using her strength, she brings you into her lap, wrapping her tight arms around you as you sob into her neck. Salty tears stain Vi’s neck but she really doesn’t care. 

All she cares about is you. 

“It’s about Kiramman, isn't it?” 

Vi can’t hide her disdain for the woman. That much is clear as day. Whatever happened with the two of them burned deep. 

“Maybe murder isn’t such a bad thing.” 

“Vi.” You chuckle half heartedly. 

“There’s that smile..” You lift your head from the safety of her warmth, pressing your forehead against hers. Your breath is heavy on her lips, staring at the beautiful scar, the plumpness to her lips practically staring right at you. Close enough to see the constellations of freckles littered across her full cheeks. 

Your timing is awful but your heart gives into Violet’s gaze, lips falling closer together to hers. 

“Don’t make it like this.” Vi whispers, her powder-blue eyes gleaming at you. 

“What?” 

“Don’t kiss me for the first time because you’re sad about her. I can’t be her runner up. I’ve been playing that for too long.” 

“I won’t kiss you, not if you don’t want me to.” 

The tears are still fresh, but this need churning within you isn’t. Since the moment you met Vi, you’ve been fighting it. Fighting this. 

“Fuck, I do but,” Vi stalls when you unzip her leather jacket, revealing her wrapped chest, abs on display. “Shit, princess.” 

Fingers playing with the button of her trousers, waiting for her to push you away but she doesn’t. She does nothing of the sort. Vi’s breath is heavier than you’ve ever heard it. Looking down at your hands, waiting for you to pull the trigger on all of this. It’s then you realize Vi is letting you have all the control. If this is going to happen, she wants you to take it. It’s different from what you’re used to. 

A choice. 

It’s more than you could have expected. Vi isn’t pushing you away, isn’t telling you to stop. Not when you unbutton her pants and not when you suck on your fingers before slipping them beneath her boxers, feeling the soft curls and wondering if they match the drapes, before your fingers get perfectly acquainted with her. 

“Oh fuck—” Vi curses as she grabs onto your ass, lifting the short skirt you’ve been wearing all night, rucking it up to your hips as she sinks her nails into the skin. 

When you slip inside her, she clenches around your fingers, fucking her hips into your pace and Vi struggles to contain the whimpers. They flow out of her like a tidal wave. She’s been thinking about this moment with you for so long, just you and her — it’s the only thing Vi wants. 

When Vi saw you tonight she thought it was absolutely ridiculous for you to wear this strapless top, only because your nipples poked through the small fabric, but now she’s grateful you did. It’s easy to slip as she sucks a pierced nipple into her mouth. Her tongue plays with the barbell, causing you to groan as she pinches and delicately pulls at the other. As Vi kitten licks your nipple, she finds home on your ass again, before ripping your panties off. 

Her mouth is eager, hot, as she won’t stop giving attention to your chest. You’ve never wanted to kiss her more. 

“Can you take two, princess?” 

Eagerly you nod, a yearning yes falls from your lips. Vi doesn’t waste a beat. 

You try to fuck Vi harder, but she doubles down on her efforts, her fingers so deep and you feel so full. Trying to chase the high, you ride her fingers, almost as if you were riding her, your ass unable to stop humping against her. It’s just the two of you, a silent competition to get the other one off first and you can feel Vi winning. Then she’s extending her thumb, rubbing circles on your clit, and you know you’ve lost. 

“That’s it, just like that princess.” 

“Vi, Vi, baby, oh my godddddd—” 

Vi’s purely evil with every thrust of her fingers but she’s so full of light, an angel sent to you in your darkest hour. Batting her long eyelashes at you while she suckles on your bouncing tits, knuckle deep inside you as she gives you everything to just take. She’s too beautiful to look away from. With her pupils dilated, her blue eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them. Letting off your perfect tits with an obnoxious pop, she kisses up your sternum as she marks you with her lips everywhere but the place you actually want. 

But then her words revere in your mind once again. 

Don’t make it like this. 

“Look at me.” 

Eyes drifting back to her as she curls her fingers inside you, your grip on her hair iron tight, unwillingly to let go of you. 

“Such a beautiful girl, so special, so pretty when you form a sentence. The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. There’s no need to be jealous, babygirl, don’t need anyone else but you. Mhm, just you, alright? Yeah? Keep looking at me, yeah baby, just like this.” 

You nod, close to the brink, her compliments send a rush through your head and your throbbing clit feels it. 

The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. 

“Baby, I, shitttt Violettttt—” 

The name of her full name, the first time she’s ever heard it fall from your lips since the first time you met. Vi’s too close and hearing you scream her name isn’t helping. 

“C’mon, princess. Show me how pretty you can be.” Vi commands and you come undone around her fingers. 

Arching your back against the steering wheel, and the horn blows. 

You giggle and so does she but the soft moment is short lived as your body twitches, selfishly basking in the way you irrevocably coated her fingers in your cum. 

Bringing Violet with you as you pull at her hair, her face planting on on your chest as your breasts smother her moans as she jumps off the cliff with you. Sucking at the flesh, marking what she craves as you fuck yourself on her fingers, her pace even more brutal as Vi coaxes you through your blindingly, hot orgasm. 

“Just like that princess, pussy just can’t stop drenching for me, yeah? My pretty girl can paint my face next time. Do you want that? My face covered in your cum, dribbling down my chin, on my tits…you’ll clean me up though. A good girl like you will. So fuckin’ pretty.” 

One slap to your ass has you trembling, body shaking and that’s when Vi lays off, her fingers slipping out of you and you feel so empty without her. 

As if you didn’t need any more torture, you watch as she lavishes at her fingers, covered in your cum, her high cheekbones suctioning as she sucks every last drop. Vi smirks as you drool a little bit before you wipe the saliva off. Sweet as always, she doesn’t say a word. Saving you the embarrassment from a crude joke. 

One Caitlyn would definitely make. 

“Um, sorry, I think I got carried away.” 

“We both did, it’s okay, Vi.” 

There’s a soft silence, it would almost become cumbersome if it wasn’t so peaceful. The only thing you can hear is her exhale of breath as Vi tries to regain some composure. All of it feels complicated, the severed tie to Caitlyn doesn’t seem so entirely severed when her ex-girlfriend makes you come in the driver’s seat of her truck. 

If anyone found out about this, about the two of you, it would be the talk of the town. Caitlyn’s exes making a victory lap in Kirakiller’s grave. The victory is so triumphant even the goddess on top of the mountain gets scorched. It’s your worst nightmare. Your wish is to coddle this as long as you can. Savor the feeling, keeping Vi under lock and key. 

You just want to have this one thing for yourself. 

Even if you are far from her reach, she has a way of making sure any good thing gets ripped from you, torn from your hands before you even have a second to enjoy. As much as you enjoyed her company, this complicates. 

But it doesn’t stop your heart from thumping loudly. A shiver runs up your spine as Vi pulls down your skirt. There’s a tenderness to her touch as she fixes your top, covering your chest once again. You nearly lock your lips with hers when she rubs your full cheeks with the pad of her thumb, smoothing along her jaw as she leans in to kiss the tip of your nose.  Unable to snuffle it, you smile. 

It’s genuine when the light reaches your eyes. Vi says nothing, anything would be too heavy, something neither of you are ready for. A silent agreement to enjoy this moment for what it is. 

“Are you doing anything for Valentines? Mel and Sevika are having this party and I thought you might wanna go together.” The panic surges through her powder-blue eyes the moment she asks the question. 

Is that why she came tonight? Did she want to ask you? 

Reminding you of the first night you met, a party and Sevika and Mel’s but you find yourself to be in an entirely different position. The idea of a date without the pressure, you’d be surrounded by your friends. But you tremor with the thought of Violet wanting to spend Valentine’s day with you. 

“But it’s, um, perfectly fine if you already have plans. It's just I don’t want to spend it alone. Powder is off spending it with Ekko this year, Vander is doing god knows what and Silco well, that would just be pathetic if I asked him what his plans are. I really just—” 

“Violet.” 

Violet.

Violet. 

Violet. 

The second it rolls off your tongue, a crimson hue forms on her freckled cheeks, even spreading across the bridge of her nose before it coats the tips of her ears. A soft pink unlike her vibrant locks of messy hair, partially due to your tugging and pulling. 

“Sorry, Vi. It just slipped.” 

“No. I mean not no. I wasn’t trying to be rude. You can call me, Violet, if you want to.” 

I like hearing you say my name, it sounds even more beautiful than when you whispered it falling apart on my fingers. 

But Vi couldn’t say that. 

“Well then, Violet, I would love to go with you. Count me in.” 

She didn’t need to know you already had plans on going. This was much better. 

— 

Mel decides to take you up on the offer of studying at the library tonight. With your future hanging on by the thread that is your scholarship, you have to keep your grades airtight. Not to mention the downfall of your situation with Caitlyn only puts a bullseye on your back. 

The first couple of hours have been silent for the two of you, the accountability keeping you in check to stay focused. Then the third hour approaches and the two of you start to quietly converse in the nearly vacant library. 

“Did Sev tell you who came into Leagues last night?” 

Shutting your book, your eyes squint in confusion. 

“Kiramman.” 

“I thought the ship had sailed away during that fight. God, it nearly made me want to strangle her and we all know violence is more of Sev’s choice of resolution.” 

“It has. She likes checking in on her so-called…wounded. She’s never been one for grace. I wish she would make it less obvious, Leagues isn’t even her scene. Her pompous ass would never be caught dead in there when we were, well, whatever the fuck you would call us. But she’s been quite the regular ever since I cut things off. 

It’s surprising she would come to you, but on the other hand, she didn’t know where you lived. It was the only straw for her to grasp on. It’s probably killing her to know she’s been blocked on everything, no contact, a complete ghost town. Almost as if none of you even existed together, just a memory faded, one you hope to burn into ash. 

“Well, Vi was there hanging out with Gert and—” 

“She was?” 

Mel suddenly felt like she said something she shouldn’t have. 

“Appearances can be deceiving, they did talk for a bit, yes, but how does that have any level of importance?” Mel can’t hide her lips upturning. 

“Nothing.” 

“Hey kid, lighten up. I think you’re two seconds away from snapping that pencil in half.” The rasp of Sevika’s voice pulls you back to earth, but it’s too late for the pencil as the infrastructure snaps. You feel like a child, caught in doing something they shouldn’t do. 

“Oh, so this is a thing? Vi?” Mel almost speaks a little too loudly, her voice reaching endless limits as the object of your affection is named in the very silent library. “I just thought you wanted to make Kirakiller jealous. Not actually…” 

You bury your head in your notebook, wanting to strangle Sevika as you hear her chuckle, taunting you as your traitorous heart fails you in your time of need. Maliciously giving you up as your tragic negligence exposes you truly. 

Even if it’s silly, needy, or a little bit selfish — you wanted this one part of your life to be concealed from beady eyes. 

“Finally coming to your senses.” Sevika taunts. 

“Enough. I’m not…Violet and aren’t…that’s not what this is.” 

Mel gives you a knowing look, arching her perfectly arched eyebrow, hazel eyes with a ring of gold surrounding them piercing so deeply into your soul. It almost has you stuttering out how you let her fuck you in Violet’s truck, driving you back home with her warm, soft hand on your exposed thigh. Absentmindedly drawing circles into your skin. 

“Violet?” Sevika and Mel say in unison. 

“Did I say something wrong?” 

“Vi doesn’t let anyone call her that. The only one who's ever called her that is well, her family. She yelled at Kirakiller for calling her that whenever they fought. Vi looked like she could rip her tongue out.” 

The information makes your head spin, there is only so much you can take. 

“It’s just a name. Seems like Vi is preoccupied anyways. This is just so…” 

“Hey Vi!” 

You turn around, hearing her greet someone she was friendly with. In her athletic shorts and cleats, it’s clear practice had started again, her gym bag in tote. The sweat and grime layered over her face, the sleeves of her jersey rolled into her shoulders. With each movement, her muscles rippled in the dim lighting of the library. 

The navy blue jersey complimented her vibrant strands of pink, she laughs at whoever she’s talking to and she looks so happy and at peace, it makes your heart soar. Rugby always made her the happiest. Vander and Vi used to play when she was just a girl, even Powder joined as they got older but when Violet got stronger, she restricted for playing seriously with classmates her own size and not old men whose knees could give out in any second. 

She still doesn’t see you and you want to keep it that way so you turn around, minding your own even if your two closest friends in the world just watched you gawk over Violet. 

“It’s just going to get worse. Living together. It’s only a matter of time until one of you…” Sevika gestures to the pencil lying broken on the table. 

“Well, try not to act too disheartened at the party. Vi said she’s bringing someone. I’m sure it won’t work out between them. Ever since she’s gotten here she hasn’t been able to—” 

Sevika places her hand on Mel, to cue her to silence herself as Vi walks up to the table, grabbing the chair closest to you and discreetly pushes it even closer to you when she takes her seat. 

Immediately, you chastise yourself for loving how turned on you are by her sweaty body, her muscles clearly acquiring the pump from her practice, those stupid strong calves brushing against yours. You admire the scar against her top lip. Tattoos on display, making your head feel dizzy, and she leans over and asks if she can have a couple of your orange slices. Before falling right back in conversation with Sevika. 

Violet does anything to be close to you. Mel and you are engrossed in a conversation, when she shows you the video you were discussing, Vi has to lean over to see. Her arm hanging off your shoulder, her neck craning to see but when she sits back, she keeps her arm around the back of your chair. 

“How did practice go today?” You ask. 

“Fine.” But the grass stains on her shirt tell you differently, so does the burn on her exposed shin. 

“Who the fuck did you let kick your ass?” Sevika interjects before you have the chance to. 

“Can’t kick Kirakiller’s ass. Dean Kiramman might throw me out faster than I can blink. I’m already on thin ice and Kirakiller just made it worse. She doesn’t like losing.” 

Violet glances at you, her expression unreadable as she turns her attention back to Sevika. 

“Got outvoted for Team Captain and she can’t fucking stand it. You know the pompous Kirammans don't believe in democracy. One for all and all for none. Some bullshit Kirakiller says while she’s trying to out-bench me in the weight room. Not my fucking problem. Hasn’t been for a while. She went in for some cheap blows during drills. It is what it is.” 

Sevika nods her head, “Seems like you did a real number on her. She shouldn’t have fumbled half of this table.” 

“Sev.” You shoot a glaring warning. 

Violet visibly tenses but she doesn’t remove her arm, Mel elbowing Sev in the gut softly before she coughs up a quiet apology. The tension could be cut with a knife, but Violet just plays with the material of your cotton shirt, soothing herself as she tries to forget. 

“Right, yep.” An awkward silence disperses before Mel and Sevika excuse themselves leaving you and Violet alone. 

“Violet, I can talk to her. She shouldn’t be taking this out on you. This is all my fault.” 

“It’s not you, alright? Not directly. Caitlyn likes to hurt when she’s hurt. I can handle her.” 

Vi chew on her lip, breaking through skin as blood comes to the surface, the iron taste coating her tongue. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question Violet. 

“She knows she can’t lash out at the one thing she wants.” 

The one thing we both want, Vi thinks to herself. 

She takes the brunt of Caitlyn’s anger and she doesn’t even know why. Maybe an understanding but doesn’t know the full picture. You’re too much of a coward to let it slip. If everything goes south, the woman you adored could truly hate you and that’s the last thing you wanted. It’s silly to even hide a secret. Especially when you feel as if she sees right through your heart when her curious blue eyes look at you. 

“Trust me, I’m playing against what I want but she’s not as done as you think she is. She’ll come back for you, princess. You’re someone anyone would come back for. I’m the low totem pole trash found underneath her designer sole, there’s never been a place for me in her life.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“It’s the truth.” 

“No, it isn’t. You’re more than how she treated you. Don’t talk about yourself like that. It’s the furthest thing from the truth.” 

Vi nods, tries to offer a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“What really happened? You look banged up and it looks more than just a rough practice. You know you can tell me anything. I’m all ears for you.” 

Vi struggles for a moment, and contemplates on telling you the truth. You deserve to know the truth and she knows that but she also can’t stand for Caitlyn to hurt another piece of you. This entire time apart from Caitlyn, you’ve done your best to separate and get over her. She can’t be the person to make you feel any worse about the situation. 

Caitlyn can’t get more in the way, she won’t allow it. 

“Kiramman just being a cunt, okay? It’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

“Okay but I’m cleaning that cut on your arm when we get home.” You nudge your shoulder against hers. Talking solace as she places her head in the crook of your neck. 

“Whatever you want, princess.” 

Then the question nags in the back of your mind, I saw her with Gert. But you’re putting her with Caitlyn. You think she’s cheating on you but there’s isn’t anything to cheat on. You’ve never spoken about that night in her pick-up truck but still dream of it. 

Luscious, greedy cunt taking her fingers in ease as you fucked her to completion. The whines she made, how harmonious they were with your own. The image stays imprinted on your mind, scorching the deepest depths of your mind for all eternity to see. 

But it’s not everyone taking a look. 

It’s just you. Keeping a lid on it has been more than you bargained for. Vi is the person who has been there to help you. When you’ve felt like the cards are stacked against you, it’s her that pulls you out. Every day after the breakup, if you could even call it that, you evidently were just a warm body to fuck for Caitlyn, Violet was there to make sure you were okay. 

The daily check-ins, making sure you were staying hydrated through all the tears, cooking dinner for the both of you when she knows you skipped lunch. It’s the little things you’re beating yourself up over and it makes you wonder what was really going on. 

If Caitlyn had taught you anything, it was people did fuck you because that’s the only thing they want. But you wanted Violet to be different. More than you ever had than Caitlyn, you need her to be more than what you’ve always been. 

“Are you alright, princess? Lost you there for a second.” 

You hope she never does. And you never want to lose her. You swallow your jealousy, you decide to trust, despite your best efforts; your heart remains unprotected. You chose blind trust, even if you know better, you lean into the faith. 

“Yeah, I’m here with you. Promise.” 

—

There’s red, pink, and white — everywhere. Mel is passionate about Valentine's day. In weeks of build up, this party is all she spoke of. Dragging you along to shop when buying decorations, but you didn’t mind. Sevika covering you at the bar means one less shift this week. After last night’s events, you could use the breather. 

If Sev wasn’t there, putting the men in place, the status of your safety would severely be in question. Vi came after you called, just complaining about it on your break, and thirty minutes later she sat on your section of the bar with one of her favorite books in hand. 

“You didn’t have to come. See? Still in one piece.” 

“Mhm and that’s how I want you to stay. Sorry princess, I’m not going anywhere.” 

It’s not like you needed any more reason to enjoy her company. You have too many. And they come to your mind as needy as a bee to honey. It’s why you bail on coming as a pair, you had a valid excuse, but you also knew if Mel knew why you were helping decorate their home she would literally kick you back to be with Violet. 

Hanging the banner in the entry was the last of your duties and before you knew it everyone was shuffling in one by one. The party is in full swing by the time Violet walks in the front door and you nearly collapse from just how damn good she looks. A bouquet of flowers, an assortment of pink and yellow roses with a few lilies meticulously placed in the arrangement. 

“I hope it’s not too much but I wanted to do something nice for you.” 

“They are beautiful, Violet. You really didn’t have to.” 

She smiles as she leans in to kiss your temple, “Of course I did.” 

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch, the games Mel has planned are fun. Everyone engages with each other and it is surprisingly pleasant. The only unsettling feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is the ginger in the corner who has been eyeing you all night but the shirley temples you’ve been drinking all night has you dazed, sitting on Violet’s lap with her arms wrapped around your waist. 

Vi’s a bit inebriated as she plays with the hem of your dress, whispering how beautiful you look in your ear. You fidget in her hold, grinding against her even when you’re really not even meaning to. 

Astoundingly, the door slams, her arrival being announced. 

Uninvited and as prompt as ever. 

“Oh, so this—“ Caitlyn gestures to Vi as if she’s the sticky gum on the bottom of her overpriced sneaker, “my leftovers is why you chose to end things?” 

She’s charging as the ginger gets up from her seat, trying to hold Caitlyn back but she fails but in an instant, Vi stands up. Every protective bone in her body goes hyperactive, proving herself as a blockade between you and the devil herself. The smirk Vi wears makes Caitlyn violently scowl. She may be taller, but she’s smaller, thinner, not packing nearly as much muscle in her punch. 

There was nothing she would love more than to punch that stupid, coy fucking smile off her face. 

“What are you gonna do, cupcake?” She says the once endearing nickname, crathing to slither underneath her skin, she wants to piss her off to no end. Make Caitlyn regret ever fucking with either of you. It’s all this ever was, a game. Kiramman’s are always desperate to win, to annihilate your opponent. Any future moves made would be contingent in how she made you feel. 

“Get out of my way, Violet.” 

“Call me that again and I’ll knock your teeth out. And what are you going to do about it? Everyone may be afraid of you outside of the field, but in case you have forgotten, this isn't on campus where things are done the Kiramman way. If you wanna take a cheap shot at me, better make it count.” 

With a careful gaze, Caitlyn’s eyes beam down to the hand clinging to Vi’s bicep, how you’re looking at Vi and touching her skin and how dreadful you look to her. 

She directs her voice to you, “What? You’re gonna pick her over me? Like we mean nothing?” 

Bitterly, you laugh, but it isn’t funny. Not one bit. 

“It’s painful, isn’t it? Being on the other side of it.” Taking a step forward, leaning against Violet’s shoulder, intertwining your fingers together. “Those were your words exactly, Kiramman. This is nothing.” 

“I–” For the first time, right before your eyes, she’s stunned. For the first time since she’s met you, she’s speechless. 

“Caitlyn, we should just–” 

“Maddie, enough.” 

The both of you have done more than just rattle her, you’ve surprised her and Violet would be smiling so damn wide if Caitlyn still wasn’t in front of her. 

“Baby, can we talk about this? Just a minute of your time and we can sort this out.” Violet won’t stand for the desperate pleas for a moment longer. She takes a step forward, getting in Kiramman’s face, “I think you and your little orange muppet should get the fuck out before I throw you out myself.” 

“This isn’t any of your business, Vi.” 

“When you’re talking to my girl like that, it really fucking is.” 

My girl. 

Violet seems to be two seconds away from physically throwing her out when Mel finally interjects. “Caitlyn, you are unwelcome, uninvited, and you’re trespassing. I ask that you please leave before other extreme measures need to be taken.” 

A venomous scoff leaves her lips as Maddie drags her away, slamming the door on her way out. 

You're rattled, but not from Caitlyn, but from the assertiveness you didn’t know Vi possessed. The implications of this would serve consequences to not just Vi but to you but you couldn’t focus on that right now. She had called you her girl. 

Vi’s girl. 

“Well now that’s out of the way…” Mel jokes, lightening the mood as the party jumps back in full swing. But all you hear is Vi’s voice calling you hers and it’s like she knows what you’re thinking of when she spares a glance. 

“I’m sorry it just slipped but I couldn’t stand her looking at you like that. Like you were some piece of meat she can have whenever she wants.” Violet apologizes. Rubbing the back of your hand with your thumb, tracing her name into your skin. 

“It’s okay, um, it was actually really hot…” Immediately, she takes a step forward in an effort to be closer to you. “I-I’ve never really seen you be so uh–” 

“What princess?” Mischievously, she girls her head, biting her lip right before she licks them, her tongue piercing teasing you. 

“I dunno…it was just really hot seeing you like that…calling me that.” 

“My girl?” Vi smiles. It’s so genuine, making you swoon with a sincerity only she can give. 

“Yeah, something like that, maybe.” 

“I can call you a lot more things if you want. Wanna take a bet if they actually locked their bathroom?” 

Neither of you have ever moved so quickly in your life. Clothes get thrown on the tile the minute the two of you are alone, pressing your frame against the door as she decorates your neck in sovereign possession. She never wants anyone to question, you’re her girl. 

“Vi, do you,  fuccckkkk, really think this is a good idea?” She only grunts in reply as you're nearly fully exposed, your weeping cunt grinding against the muscular thigh she offers so graciously. Your friendship with her hangs in the balance, and you don’t want to think about that right now but you can’t help but have your doubts. 

“We can stop if you want to. Whatever you want.” Vi moves to remove her thigh until you whimper, tugging her closer by her pink hair towards you. 

“I didn’t say that. Please, don’t stop.” 

“Mhm, okay princess but only because you asked so nicely.” 

Vi pushes her against your pussy, your hips falling more erratic as Violet gets lost in your neck. Lips marking whatever inch of skin they can find as your folds get the needed friction from her trousers. Blindly sucking on the sweet spot behind your ear, making you putty in her hands. 

With a tight grip, you pull at her vibrant hair, her roots grounding you as the build in the pit of your stomach increases. But she pulls away just when you’re getting close. If your hands didn’t have the edge of the sink to hold onto, you’re not sure your legs would have supported you. 

“Did you want to stop?” 

“No.” Vi smirks. 

“Then why the hell did you?” 

She says nothing, infuriating you further. It almost pisses you off to the point where it’s painful. Vi keeps smirking at god knows what. Maybe she finds you just as pathetic as Caitlyn does. It may have been a distant future, when Caitlyn had actually been decent in her freshman year, her and Vi were the talk of the town until it all abruptly ended and no one knew why. You’ve never asked. 

Vi’s friendly with you but not to the point where she’s an open book. She’s hardly an open book with anyone, she’s careful when she hooks up with others. Especially with the who, she doesn’t want someone who's going to go off and tell the rest of campus how many fingers she used while she makes them come. 

But now, you like her. Really fucking badly. 

The way she snapped on her, protecting you, nearly connecting her fist with Caitlyn’s sharp jawline. It’s one of the reasons you’re in here with her. But still, not knowing the reason makes you feel slightly unsettled. 

There's been different rumors over the past few years surrounding Vi the sweetest girl around and Kirakiller. All of them painting Caitlyn in a god awful light. 

Kirakiller cheated on Vi. 

Vi left because Kirakiller didn’t want to make things official. 

Kirakiller‘s tenacious appetite for the bedroom couldn’t be satisfied by Vi. 

Kirakiller said Vi couldn’t make her come. 

The list goes on and on, and on. Neither of them were seen to be around each other again, not until Caitlyn seemed to catch you in her web. It was the sin of the century. Vi’s roommate seeing her ex-girlfriend. It was messy to say the least. A few long weeks and you cooking Vi her favorite meal, buying her favorite sour candy in bulk, along with some new gadget for her computer she’d been wanting. 

It’s all it took to forgive you. Her only request was to keep Caitlyn out of the apartment while she was here. She never spoke about her again and you never pressed the wound. If Vi didn’t ever want to talk about it but why they broke up gnawed at you. 

But Violet doesn’t seem to give a shit about that right now. 

“Get on your knees, princess.” 

You obliged as Vi took off the sweater, revealing a grey fitted tank-top, showing off just how fit she stayed in the crisp of winter. 

“Good girl. Now, take off my belt, yeah?” 

You released the belt from the latch, pulling it through the loop and handing it to Vi. Her firm grip grabs the belt, as she kneels behind you, bounding your wrists together by the smooth, cold leather. It’s black with a silver clasp, it feels nice against your wrists as she tightens it. As far as you can tell, it’s new and it makes you wonder if she bought it for just an occasion like this. 

Wrists bound behind your back, Vi slaps the fat of your ass before soothing over with delicate fingers, the calloused pads of her fingers playing with your puckered hole as she thumbs it gently. 

Pulling it back for a moment, collecting saliva in her warm mouth before drooling over your ass. Smothering her own spit, a place you’d never let anyone touch. You've convinced yourself all this time it’s because of your boundaries but when Vi did it, you didn’t have a problem with it. Then you realize you have trust with Vi, one you hadn’t had with anyone else. 

It was just a spur of the moment, two horny girls lonely and single, needing someone else but you also know Vi wasn’t one to sleep with half the campus. She’s a one-woman kind of girl. Maybe you need that trust. 

You’re hesitant, still but you can’t bring yourself to say no. She’s attentive, making sure you’re alright with each moment. Not wanting to push you past a limit both of you can’t come back from. 

“Is this alright?” Vi whispers into your ear as if she can read your mind. 

“Yeah, it’s good.” You take a beat before moaning as you lean into her chest, “A little too good.” 

Vi chuckles into your ear, the vibrations tingle throughout your body. Suddenly your mind is wondering how a simple giggle can make you feel so soaked. With a gentle hand, her thumb keeps on playing with your ass as she maneuvers you into her lap and that’s when you feel it. 

A faux cock. 

“Is that a—” You want to ask but for the first time in your life, you feel shy. 

“A cock?” 

“Someone’s cocky.” 

You both giggle at your innuendo. 

Lightly, with soaked fingers she pulls out of your lips, she rims your puckered hole, a coveted limit in your body but with her, you so freely wish to give it. 

The eye contact feels awfully intimate but you can’t bring yourself to tear yourself away. It’s entirely new to you. Caitlyn never liked to look you in the eyes when she fucked you. Always something to hide, how she truly feels about you is privy to anyone else but her. 

You didn’t have the right to know. 

With Vi, everything becomes so clear. 

It’s crystal clear when she asks if she can slide a finger inside your ass, it’s overly intimate when you tell her yes as your eyes never leave hers. Her eyes are as hooded as you’ve ever seen them but she won’t break eye contact. Not for a second. You’re questioning if she’s even blinking. 

With each passing second, her pink hair surrounds you as her forehead pressed against yours, blue eyes open as she asks again if you’re okay with it. You give her another yes before her middle finger slides in your mouth, your tongue circling the digit before sucking on it dramatically. Letting off with a pop, Vi teases your forbidden hole one more time before she gently coaxes you open for her. 

“Shit, Shit, that’s—” You squint your eyes shut. The new sensation is a little too much for your brain to process much less the fluttering pressure in the pit of your stomach. 

“Look at me, princess. Keep your eyes on me, alright?” Vi lightly commands, her tone as sweet as you’ve ever heard it. 

With the sweet words thrown your way, your eyes flutter open, long eyelashes kissing your brow bone. Vi smiles softly, her top lip lifting as she sees the way you’re looking at her. 

Kirakiller is so fucking stupid, Vi thinks to herself be she keeps the words to herself. 

Vi stretches you more as her entire finger sits within you, waiting for you to be ready for more and when you are, she nearly comes herself. You’re louder than anyone she’s ever been with. She’s thankful for the loud music Mel insisted on, some shitty pop tune drowning out the two of you. Violet’s never been so thankful. 

Those shitty pop tunes are drowning the especially deafening screams of Vi’s name until your vocal chords are shot. With a strong wrist and the flick of her wrist, she can tell you’re already close. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before.” Shining eyes are glossy as ever as you struggle to keep them open and focused on her. “Never felt this, shiiiittttt, Vi, please. I’m so close.” 

“What do you mean? Has no one ever fucked your ass? You’ve been sleeping with Kiramman. How have you not—” 

“Never let her.” That sends Vi’s clit throbbing viciously. 

“Kirakiller’s an ass lover, everyone knows that.” 

“Are we gonna sit her talking about her the entire time or are you gonna make me come?” Agitating you roll your eyes but Vi licks her lips slowly as a distraction, pulling your attention to her pierced tongue and then you feel another finger stretch at your ass. 

“What did you say, princess? Something about coming?” Vi uses another finger, her long digits spreading the slit in your lower lips, making a mess as she spreads the pre-cum spilling out of you. “Be a good girl won’t you?” Vi pinches your clit and just like that your eyes shut again, a completely shattering orgasm washed over you. 

Body twitching as Vi keeps you in her hold with a strong grip, your body riding against her fingers but she isn’t too pleased for a moment as she tuts. 

“What did I say princess? Eyes open, now.” You struggle, again, but you’re able to meet her demand. There’s an urge to look away, to hide in Vi’s pink hair, her tattooed neck, but you do none of it. Dangerous eyes look at yours as she fucks you through it. You wanted to tug at her hair, pull her closer to you, but hands are bound so all you can do is take it, with loud moans being released, ones you’re trying to control but utterly fail to do so. 

“So pretty like this, yeah? God, those gorgeous eyes of yours are gonna get me in trouble. Crying for me like that, makes me wanna take you back to our home and fuck you on my bed, baby. You’re such a beautiful girl and deserve to be treated like one, my sweet girl.” 

Vi isn’t sure if you’re crying from the intimacy or from the orgasm, probably both. It’s not a secret since the start of the semester you’d been with Kiramman but Vi knew first hand what that meant. There’s no eye contact, no cuddling, no reassurances, it’s just sex. When Vi was going through it herself, she could see the toll it even took on Caitlyn but she didn't break. Her resolve is rock solid and Vi had learned it the hard way, just as she supposed you did. 

It was an endless cycle and it seems Kiramman continued it again with you. It’s evil the way she pulls you apart, makes each part of you feel special, like you’re her entire world and there’s no one else but there always is someone else. Always. Kiramman will lie through her perfectly aligned teeth but there is always someone she keeps for a backup. 

Vi wipes away your tears as she soothes you with soft whispers and delicate hands running up and down your back. It feels like the easiest thing she’s done, soothing you into serenity. With gentle care, she takes the belt off of your wrists, rubbing soft circles over the sensitive skin as you come back to yourself. The alcohol feels like a memory. Her kindness makes your head spin and your heart flutter. 

Now, you understand why the two of them never worked. 

Vi is everything Caitlyn struggles to be. 

It’s like looking in a mirror of everything you want to be but knowing you’ll never be her. The imperfection of Caitlyn’s kindness and the overabundance of Vi’s is probably too much of a bruise to her ego. One could see how much it would eat her alive. Vi helps you relocate your clothes that are scattered across the bathroom floor. Shamelessly, she watches as you dress yourself again, not one to look away from the woman she had screaming her name not even five minutes prior. 

“You’re so beautiful, can’t keep my eyes off you.” 

“C’mon Violet. We live together, I’m the same ole’ me. Now, you’ve just fucked my ass.” You try to brush off the compliment. You feel more similar to Caitlyn then you’d like to admit. Vi’s wholeheartedness is overwhelming, leaving a sting of longing every time she looks at you with a light in her curious eyes. 

You slip on your dress and Vi is quick to zip you up but not without kissing the nape of your neck. 

Tonight’s actions suddenly feel very sobering. 

Vi isn’t done with you as she lifts you up on the countertop, finding her sweatshirt before she covers her toned figure again. You’re wondering what she’s playing at. What she’s thinking about. Vi finds your heels, the versace platform heels Caitlyn had gifted you for your birthday a week after the fact. A pity gift. Similar to herself, you couldn’t say no, it was just too pretty. 

They’re too expensive to come from a broke college student. Vi knows where they came from but she exercises that tight lip of hers. 

With a gentle tap, she taps your calf lightly a couple times and you offer your leg to her as she slaps the heel back onto your feet, clasping the strap around your ankle before she does the same for the other. The both of you stare at the lingering hands on your thighs, rubbing soft circles into the skin, the bluntness of her fingernail causes goosebumps to spread across the skin. 

Caitlyn is terrified of this, something so soft and fragile, her grip would be too tight; she’d break you in the process. She’s a chapter you want to close. All you want now is the woman in front of you. 

Vi has only ever been just a friend and she treats you like this. An imaginative mind, one of your own making, starts to wonder…if Vi was in love with Caitlyn, was she even sweeter to her? If her golden heart wasn’t enough for Caitlyn, whose would it be? 

The question makes you lost on the idea. Maybe it’s the post-nut clarity of being fucked like you just were, but you see Vi an entirely new light. One that feels as blinding as the sun but she’s smothering you with a perfect amount of warmth. 

“So…that happened.” Lightly, Vi laughs trying to brush off the seriousness of the moment. 

“Yeah and it seems you came packing.” 

Mel has been talking her up all week, telling her she wasn’t just seeing things, all she had to do was give you space and you would come to her slowly. It seems like Mel hadn’t been totally wrong. You are clearly attracted to her but the more protective side of her mind wonders if this is all that it extends to — sex. 

The flashback of Caitlyn and all her little twisted games comes to mind while your curious eyes inspect her intensely. 

“It’s just a stroke of optimism.” Vi tries to control her breathing when you close your legs around her waist, crossing your legs over the other as you lock her into a secure position. 

The tight dress you’re wearing bunches up again, almost resting on your hips. 

“I think you were wanting to stroke something else.” 

“Uh. No. I was, definitely…okay…maybe I was. A little bit.” Vi admits as you continue to play with her hair, your heel lightly grazing her bum as you tease her for just a little bit longer. 

“It’s cute. I like it when you’re confident. You packed a cock in your pants because you wanted to fucked me tonight. Be proud about it. Yeah, maybe you didn’t get to use it but you sure did fuck me.” 

“How do you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“You’re so brave. Nothing stands in your way, when you want something you go after it. I could never do that.” 

“Well, you kinda did. Unless, um—” But the words die in your throat. Suddenly they seem too real and if you tell her, this whole charade will be over, reality will set in and this magical night will only be reduced to primal, drunken needs. 

For all you know, Vi didn’t mean any of this. Maybe you just wanted to get your pussy wet, wanted to fuck a pretty girl, needed to see some tits to get her through this lonely holiday. The one that patronizes the single. 

Maybe that’s all this is. You’re just a nice piece of ass to fuck. It makes you feel dirty, the air feels thinner, and before you know it Vi’s whispering in your ear to take deep breaths. 

“Princess, I’m right here, alright. Just breathe and tell me. It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“I-I just thought because you know, well, after the last month I thought I was more than just…” 

“A girl I wanna fuck?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, you are. Would that be such a bad thing? I know with Caitlyn you had something casual, and maybe you liked things that way, but I want something more serious. I don't want to play with your feelings and I don’t want you to play mine. If this is what you want then I think it’d be worth a shot but if not, we can just be friends, alright? There’s no pressure.” 

“But Natalie…you said she wanted something serious and you didn’t.” 

“I lied to you and I’m sorry for that. But I wanted something serious, just not with her.” 

“You know what you want.” You stated it more like a question, puzzled and perplexed about a woman, for the first time, saying exactly what she’s looking for. 

“Well…yeah? I respect you enough not to waste your time.” Her eyes gleam, expectant and waiting for you to answer. 

“I’ve never had someone so honest with me. I kinda don’t know what to do with it.” 

The most sincere eyes look into yours, as she leans into your fingers that play with her vibrant, violet hair. It’s all so fast but Vi nurtures everything once broken within you until you’re healthy once again, restoring the strength you once felt before your heart stopped listening to your head. 

It’s a warm, comforting feeling you want to sink into. She’s the closest you’ve had to a semblance of hope. You wondered how anyone could ever let go of her. It wasn’t that she had just given you the best orgasm of your life, it was more than that. Vi made you feel more in thirty minutes than Caitlyn had in your entire time together. 

There wasn’t a worry in the back of your mind if this mattered, if you mattered. Her eyes were so open, letting you into the love dripped like honey, full of sweetness, every empty jar of yours waiting to be filled. 

“Don’t do anything right now then. For now,” Vi leaned forward, her lips ghosting yours. Close enough where her breath could be felt on yours. “I don’t know where you’re at but I’ve never felt like this, about anyone, and if you wanna start slow we can. Although, we have twice now so I don’t know how slow we can actually go, or we could even go on real date and then you can decide but—”

“Violet?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You talk too much.” 

You lean in and Vi doesn’t waste the opportunity, capturing your top lip between hers, wanting nothing more than to get lost in every inch of you. Holding you like a delicate flower she’s afraid to crumple in her hands, Vi lets herself get lost in this. 

For once she doesn’t think of the consequences, if this is moving too fast, wondering what Caitlyn would do if she knew and who she would actually be jealous of. It’s a slippery slope, you messing with her, Vi messing with you. 

But she desperately wants it to be more than your roommate, more than a friend — more than secret meeting where Vi fucks you senseless. She can’t get into this and for it to mean nothing and she’s terrified Caitlyn already has her claws dung in deep to you. Then there’s a moan of Vi’s name being said, and her greedy tongue slips in your mouth as she aches for more of you. 

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling your frame impossibly close to her, commanding your mouth with her pierced tongue as if she was born for it, the coolness of the stainless steel ball tangled with your tongue is a high you want to chase. With every touch, a shiver runs up her spine, like there’s a live wire exposed within you and only her touch can spark it alive. 

Vi knows where you want to be touched before you say a word, like she has a connection to your mechanisms, every craving designed for her to carry out as if she’s the one who put them there in the first place. Violet’s pelvis presses against yours, as she gives you the kiss of your life, it leaves you breathless as you chase her lips, your grip pulling at her roots as if it’s your sole purpose in life. 

The rest of the world melts away and it’s just the two of you. The lingering shadow of your ex fades into the background and all you see is Violet. Right under your nose this entire time and only now do you realize just how wonderfully perfect she is. 

Violet ravishes in how good it feels to be chosen and it’s by you. 

The angel who can fly all on her own now; wings no longer clipped by the devil herself. 

Fin. 

[hahashifts]

Heroes POV:

I was in some deep shit.

Or, well, I would be if I didn't find some way off this damn street before they found me and dragged me back into that horrible house...

My lip was split and I could taste blood, and although I was running I had a serious limp and could feel the bruises blooming on my skin beneath my ripped clothes. My feet were bleeding - I hadn't been able to grab my shoes as I fled to the street.

I knew only one person who lived on this side of town, and it was the last person I should trust.

But, the alternative was -

No. Anything was better than where I'd just been.

I felt a trickle down my temple and jaw as I resisted the urge of leaning on a wall for support. No need to leave a blood trail right to their door.

Or, maybe that's just what they deserved. Assuming they didn't kill me first. At least then it would be a clean death. What more could a hero ask for?

Before I could second guess myself I threw myself into the doorway. I had figured out where they lived when we had our first run in two years ago. Since then I'd thwarted more of their plans than I think they had even expected, as well as cleared up the majority of the crime up north near the river. I had been trying to start bringing peace to this part of the city too, but those men had grabbed me & before I knew it I was half unconscious and being dragged into one of the townhouses. When I'd come to my clothes were ripped and they had beaten me and were clearly about to move on to using other parts of me. I'd managed to run out while they were all taking shots, thinking I was still knocked out.

I wasn't, thank the gods if they even still listened up there on their throne. But I was beaten and drained and my magic was shot - they'd done something to nullify it when I'd walked onto that damned street.

And I could hear them coming.

I tried to beat on the door, but I was bleeding, shivering - it was so cold out tonight - and they would be here in less than a minute and I'd be just another girl who disappeared from the street.

Maybe coming here was crazy.

There's no guarantee he'd even be here -

The door opened and warm light flooded from the doorway. I was swaying in my feet, honestly amazed that he even answered. I could feel the darkness creeping in and I knew it was either going to be my last moment or I'd be putting myself right in the hands of my enemy, but I had no choice. I "didn't know where else to go..." I hadn't meant to say that out loud, but it was the last thing I heard as I saw the ground swimming up to meet me.

But he caught me and held me in his arms, he heard the shouts from up the way following the blood dripping from me, I'm sure.

What a mess...

The hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes– they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “…didn’t know where else to go…” then collapse into the villain’s arms.

[bucketbueckers]

TEAM BUECKERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: language, kinda silly, kinda rushed

wc: 5.9k

synopsis: For you and Paige, the line between “friends” and “something more” wasn’t always this blurry. You weren’t quite sure how you got here, and if you were being completely honest, you didn’t know if you were brave enough to ever cross that line fully. It’s not until Paige ropes you into a Valentine’s Day couples contest you realize, with the two of you, that line never really existed at all.

notes: happy (late) valentines day 😋 yes i'm posting this after midnight on february 15 and yes i tried my best to get this out on the 14th when it was, you know, actually valentines day, but i fumbled majorly and im like 50% sorry. not proofread bc im sleepy. i lowkey don't know how to feel about this but i think the end makes up for it but i had an idea for this and it honestly derailed. i still don't know how taglists work (if you've asked and you're not on here, i'm sorry i will just throw up and die if i tag someone who doesn't actually want to be tagged in all of my works i hope u understand, pls be super specific my brain doesn't function like it used to) uhhh so yeah lmk what we think & happy vday 🫶

tags: @jnkbueckers

You and Paige weren’t always like this. There used to be a clear boundary in your friendship, a strictly platonic one where her embrace didn’t make your heart race and where her mischievous smile didn’t fill you with an exasperation that bordered on endearment. You didn’t always wear her jersey at games, didn’t always keep her favorite ice cream stocked in your apartment for nights she came over to binge watch the same show the both of you have probably seen a combined thousand times, didn’t always confuse where you begin or where she ends. There used to be a time where the two of you weren’t so inexplicably intertwined in the fabric of each other’s lives. 

If anyone asked, you wouldn’t be able to identify when everything shifted – when your feelings transformed into what they are now. It just happened. The realization was as easy as waking up next to her on the couch, your legs tangled under a blanket far too small for the both of you, her arm tight around your waist to prevent you from falling off of the cushions entirely. It was as easy as the spare toothbrush you keep in your bathroom because she sleeps over so often, as easy as the drawer you have in her room because sometimes her dorm is just closer than your apartment.

So maybe it was kind of inevitable that ‘you and Paige’ turned into a ‘You & Paige.’ The two of you have a simple understanding. You keep her grounded, she encourages you to dream a little bigger. You talk, she listens. You round each other out in so many ways that you’re not the least bit surprised by how many people think that you and Paige are dating. If anything, they’re more surprised when you correct them, saying, “She’s just my best friend.”

You’re content to take your feelings for her to the grave. Maybe you would get over her eventually. She’s Paige Bueckers. She has a national championship and the upcoming draft to focus on and you have your senior thesis due at the end of the semester. The both of you have a lot on your plates – you care for her too much to complicate things for her, even if that means putting your own feelings on the back-burner.

You’re sitting on your couch, twelve pages into your paper, sifting through the twenty-eight (yes, twenty-eight) tabs you have open for your research when you hear your door knob jiggle. You don’t think too much of it, trying to stay focused on the task in front of you before you give up and start scrolling through social media again. However, your discipline doesn’t last for too long because the familiar rhythm of footsteps could only belong to one person. You look up to find Paige making her way into your living room like she owns the place (which she may as well, considering how often she’s around), depositing her duffle bag on the armchair. You greet her, returning to your work, but you feel the couch dip under her weight as she takes a seat next to you.

And then she sighs. Loudly. Dramatically, like she’s begging for your attention. Like you’re not busy. You glance at her from the corner of your eye, finding her staring straight at you, but she says nothing. A few beats pass. You add a new sentence to your paper, pausing to go back and find the reference page. She sighs again, more purpose and intent behind it this time, and your lips quirk slightly. Still, she says nothing, and the silence stretches on for so long that you’re sure she’s given up on trying to annoy you.

You write one more sentence before she leans over, sprawling out across your body, chin pressing into your keyboard. Your eye twitches as a long string of ‘M’s takes over your Word document. Paige sighs again, sounding forlorn, like a kicked puppy, and you know you’re not going to get anything done unless you entertain her.

“Okay,” you say, pulling your computer out from under her head, making sure to save your paper before you close the lid. “What’s wrong?”

Her face brightens almost immediately. “I am so glad you asked,” she states. “So, I’m walkin’ through campus today, right?”

“As one does.”

She hums. “And there’s a shit ton of tabling outside the student union. Frats, clubs, some vegan guy giving out pamphlets –”

“Paige,” you interrupt, raising a brow. “The point?”

“Oh.” She nods, collecting her thoughts. “So there was this club – forgot who they were, lowkey, there was a lot of letters – but on Friday, they’re hostin’ a Valentine’s Day contest and the first place prize is insane. I’m talking gift cards, cookie decorating kits, I think there was even a coupon in there for a fucking spa trip, or some shit, but you get the point, yeah? I wanted to sign us up for it.”

You had to admit – you were a little intrigued by it. Between your class work and Paige and her teammates giving you an aneurysm every week, you were in dire need of a spa trip and a little bit of relaxation. But more than anything else in the world, you knew Paige. You recognized that gleam in her expression – it was a feigned nonchalance, like she was being slick and trying to hide it. “What’s the catch?” you ask bluntly.

She laughs, the sound more surprised than amused, and her head shifts in your lap to gaze up at you. You try to ignore the way it sets off a swarm of butterflies in your belly. “What makes you think there’s a catch?” she asks.

“You’re Paige Bueckers,” you state. “There’s always a catch. Like I knew there was a catch when you asked me if I would hide fourteen blonde wigs in my apartment.”

“They were for CD!” she argues. You narrow your eyes at her and she huffs a little, amused, her lips quirking into a radiant smile. “A’ight. I guess you got a point.” You hum, because of course you do. Her expression turns serious as she sighs, for real this time. “It’s a couple’s contest,” she admits. “But hear me out, okay?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” you grumble, but your mind is racing.

“There’s a couple rounds,” she explains. “Like, the first round is trivia. How well do you know your partner, type shit. They score you, then they eliminate the people who don’t know shit about their partners. Second round is teamwork. They’ll give you a couple of puzzles and the most points will go to the teams who work well together and solve the puzzle quickly. More eliminations, then the partners are separated and they’re asked questions about each other – about what, I’on know. That should be the final round of eliminations and then the remaining couples are ranked based on points and prizes are given. Light work.”

“Light work?” you echo, a little self-deprecating. “Paige, we aren’t a couple.”

“Well, not exactly,” she concedes. “But we know each other pretty well. And can you really say no to the spa coupon?”

You bite your lip, sighing as you truly contemplate it. She’s got you there. The prize itself is worth the heartache that will come with pretending like you and Paige are actually dating. “You sure we can handle it?” you ask.

She pats your side, almost ignorant of the way it sends electricity coursing down your spine. “Duh,” she says like it’s obvious, her lips growing into a confident, assured smile. “We’re a dream team, baby. We got this.”

You could only hope so.

You nervously adjust your dress as you and Paige stand outside of the large room that the Valentine’s Day contest was taking place in. You spent the entire week leading up to Valentine’s Day an anxious wreck – part of you was worried that you would slip up and say something that you would come to regret, maybe say something a little too real. You had to keep reminding yourself that you and Paige were playing a part and once that gift basket was in your hands, then things could go back to normal. 

The two of you dedicated the better part of the week to perfecting your cover story. How you met, where you met, how long you’ve been together, all of the cheesy romance milestone moments that you were certain you’d be asked about. You mutually decided to not get too creative as maintaining the lie would become even more difficult, but you were confident in your ability to sell a story.

“You ready?” Paige asks you, drawing you from your racing thoughts as she squeezes your hand gently. You didn’t even realize her hand had slipped into yours. Now that you’re aware of it, it’s all you can think of. Her hand is strong, enveloping yours completely, and it brings you a calming peace you weren’t even aware that you’d been seeking out. Feeling yourself relax, you meet her eyes and nod, trying not to smile too hard when she beams at you.

As she leads the two of you inside the auditorium, you do your best to not stare too much at her. She’s dressed simply yet elegantly; donning a fitting suit that’s a light pink in color in honor of the occasion, the fluorescent lights overhead reflecting off of her stunning chains and the rings adorning her fingers. Her hair is tied back in her formal slick-back, the diamonds in her ears sparkling, and you really have to drag your eyes off of her. You’d already spent so much of the drive over staring at her and you’re sure she’d caught you a few times but was too nice to say anything to you.

The event had a decent turn out. You count fourteen couples at most, fifteen including you and Paige, although you couldn’t really tell if that was good or bad. Beating fourteen other real, actual, dedicated, in-love couples was totally manageable. So what if you and Paige weren’t actually together, but you were the most convincing pair of best friends the world had ever seen? She said you could do it, and damn it if you weren’t going to get that spa treatment.

The auditorium, however, was decorated to the nines. Lights and streamers were strewn about, various complementing shades of pinks and lilacs matching the Valentine’s Day themes. The tables were covered in pink tablecloths with gorgeous centerpieces. Honestly, you had to give props where they were due – this club has gone all out for this Valentine’s Day event, although you’re sure they probably splurged their semesterly budget on all of the amenities.

Before you or Paige have the chance to say anything to each other, you’re approached by a young woman wearing a pink polo shirt with the club's name and logo emblazoned on the chest. UConn, UMatter. You glance quickly at Paige, trying not to let the amusement show on your face as you remember her words – ‘There was a lot of letters.’ She was so full of shit. “Hi guys!” the young woman greets enthusiastically. “Thanks so much for signing up. What’s the last name?”

“Bueckers.”

The girl nods, scanning her clipboard before finding Paige’s name. “Okay, perfect. Let me show you guys to your table.” She leads you diligently through the room, craning her head over her shoulder to explain. “Madelyn’s gonna be around soon to walk you guys through the trivia section once we start, alright? She’ll let you guys know everything you need.”

You and Paige thank the club member and she offers you two one last smile as the two of you sit down next to each other. Paige’s hand finds your knee, almost subconsciously, and you try to find your dignity. It’s then that you notice the placecard in front of you – elegant script reading TEAM BUECKERS. With a quiet laugh, you nudge Paige’s elbow, drawing her attention to the paper. “‘Team Bueckers,’ huh?” you ask her teasingly. “You forget about me?”

“Never,” she swears. “I think they assign the names based on who registered. Trust me, I had a name lined up and everything. We were gonna be PB & Slay.”

You snort. “I’m Slay?”

“No,” she deadpans. “You’re PB. Keep up, please.”

“Of course,” you say obviously, like it’s definitely your fault. “I’ll do better next time.” She squeezes your knee under the table, smiling wryly at you.

Once everyone filters in, the girl who’d greeted you at the door makes her way to the front of the room, adjusting the microphone. She introduces herself as the president of the UConn, UMatter club, explaining some of their objectives and goals for the spring semester – you tune out a lot of it, which you’ll probably feel bad for later, but you weren’t here for the club recruitment. You were here for the pedicure that was calling your name this weekend. She makes it through the rest of her opening remarks, officially announcing the beginning of the first challenge: trivia. Several club members make their way to designated tables and a short, brunette girl takes a seat in front of you and Paige.

“Hey, guys,” she says, grinning widely and handing the both of you dry erase boards and a marker each. “I’m Madelyn. I’m gonna walk the two of you through today’s challenges. We’ll go back and forth – you answer one, then the other, so on and so forth. If your answers are the same, then you’ll get a point. Ready?” You and Paige hum affirmatively. “Alright. Question for Paige – when is your partner’s birthday?”

Paige huffs, her lips quirking into a smile as she uncaps her marker. “Light work,” she murmurs as she writes her answer down. “It’s a national holiday.” You roll your eyes as Madelyn laughs. Paige flips the dry erase board around, showcasing it to you and Madelyn, and you nod as Madelyn awards you both one point.

“Same question for you,” Madelyn says to you. “When is Paige’s birthday?”

You uncap your marker and write down your answer. October 20, 2001. “The world hasn’t known peace since,” you murmur under your breath, drawing laughter from Paige. You flip your board around and Paige nods smugly.

“Two for two,” Madelyn states. “Next question for Paige. What trait of yours is your partner’s favorite?”

You and Paige exchange a glance, her brow raising teasingly. She writes down her answer and you do the same, eventually flipping your boards over for the reveal. The two of you hadn’t exactly prepared well to answer this one, so you were hoping that you and Paige were on the same wavelength. You lean forward, glancing at her whiteboard, and smiling with relief when you see her answer: she likes my energy. Paige’s smile is smug, but there’s an underlying softness in her eyes. “Don’t laugh at me,” you huff, trying to explain. “You just — you have this way about you, like you’re kind, warm, you make people smile, and you always support them. You’re just genuinely good and, I don’t know, I really like that about you.”

Paige’s smile isn’t any less confident, although she seems a little bashful now, her cheeks tinging pink. “Three for three.” she says.

Madelyn tries to stifle her grin, but it’s clearly not working. “Next question is for you. When Paige is having a rough time, how do you help her relax?”

“With great difficulty,” you gripe, making Paige and Madelyn snort as you write your actual answer. By forcing her to chill the fuck out. You and Paige flip your boards, hers reading a much politer She makes me do nothing all day. Madelyn nods, awarding you the point, but you hardly pay her any mind as you meet Paige’s eyes. “You do too much,” you say, which makes her groan. “You overwork yourself and you microdose a burnout and I have to make you sit down and remember that you’re human.”

“You’re worse than me!” she points out.

You sniff. “This is about you,” you declare, “not me.” Paige rolls her eyes fondly, but she can’t help her laughter. 

“Next question,” Madelyn says, grinning. “Paige, what did you guys do on your first date?”

This was a question that the two of you had prepared for. You both decided that a little bit of the truth went a long way and the truth was that you and Paige had no shortage of quasi-dates that you could easily draw from. You tried not to think too hard about that as the two of you write down your answers. You turn your boards, revealing similar responses of ‘we went to her dorm and made dinner together after one of her games.’

You glance at Paige and she sighs. “Don’t start,” she pleads. 

“I’m actually a little invested now,” Madelyn chirps, which makes you grin and makes Paige bury her head in her hands. 

“All I’ll say is that Paige shouldn’t be in the kitchen without supervision but I really admire her, um, willingness to get creative,” you say kindly. Your best friend pinches your thigh under the table and you jerk back, laughing. Not wanting to embarrass her in front of a stranger, you leave it at that, although you smile at Paige like you’re the only two at the table. “I had a good time, though. She made it memorable.” She smiles back at you, something tender that has your heart constricting. 

The both of you knew the truth, though. Paige was not a good cook. She doesn’t make terrible food — dinner was delicious, but Paige is chaotic and an actual hazard. Watching her chop an onion hurt something deep inside you although she’d seemed so proud of herself. You didn’t have the heart to make fun of her. 

“Five for five,” Madelyn says, drawing your attention back to her. “Next question for you. Who confessed to who?”

You and Paige lock eyes again, a silent conversation passing between the two of you, and you write down her name. You turn your boards, Paige’s name written on the both of them and you smile to yourself. “She was pretty oblivious,” Paige says, referring to you, and your smile falls as your jaw hits the ground. “I dropped so many hints and she just didn’t pick up on them. I eventually got tired—”

“Desperate,” you cut in. 

“Tired,” she emphasizes, smirking at you, “so I planned out this huge romantic thing and at the end, she still didn’t understand so I told her straight up.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe you’re just not as slick as you think,” you tell her. 

“Nah,” Paige says. “I’m super romantical.”

“Sure,” you concede. 

Madelyn stifles her smile. “Alright. Two more questions for both of you. Paige, what is your partner’s pet peeve?”

“If you get this wrong,” you grumble, hearing Paige snicker as the two of you write down your answers. After you flip your boards, she grins proudly when your answers line up. 

“She hates not being taken seriously,” Paige recites. “She’s an English major. People always think it’s just easy or unimportant shit, like reading and writing papers, but she actually does a lot of interesting analysis and stuff that I never even considered. I’ll admit I was a little ignorant but she set me straight.”

“Wait, I didn’t know you thought that,” you say, honestly confused. 

She shrugs, a little bashful. “I talk a lot but I listen. Sometimes when you leave the room, I’ll read your paper just so I can ask better questions. You get all… glowy. And… I’on know. I like seeing you happy.”

You blink once at her, genuinely touched, and if you weren’t head over heels for Paige before then you definitely are now. She squeezes your knee again, her smile crooked yet tender. Damn it. You are hopeless. 

“That’s so sweet.” You’re a little shocked by Madelyn’s voice, but you clear your throat, refocusing. “Next one for you. What’s Paige’s least favorite season?”

“That’s easy,” you say, writing your answer down. Paige does the same. When you flip your boards, you glance at Paige’s, smiling wryly. “Paige hates spring. She has really bad allergies and all of the pollen is honestly a death sentence, so she’ll get all congested and sneezy and will spend a good two weeks bitching about it and how it makes her Jeep dirty.”

You glance at Paige, waiting for her to say something, but she just shrugs with a smug expression. “Last question for Paige,” Madelyn says. “What is something your partner does to show her love for you?”

Neither of you say anything, but Paige stares at you thoughtfully, another silent conversation passing between you. You don’t need to think about your answer as you write it down. On cue, you both flip your boards, Paige’s reading simply, She takes care of me. You can’t help the way your heart swells, a fond smile overtaking your face. “Before you, I wasn’t really the… you know, the receiver, I guess. Always in control, always expected to lead. You make me feel like I can just be me, which is really hard sometimes.” Paige laughs off the vulnerability, but you see right through it – the painful honesty.

“We’re equals,” you remind her, nudging her leg with your knee. “We take care of each other.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, her voice soft as she gazes at you. “I’m glad that we do.”

You spot Madelyn out of the corner of your eye, which sobers you up quickly. She smiles. “You guys are so cute,” she gushes. “Final question for you and we’re done with this round. What is Paige’s love language?”

You feel Paige’s stare on you as you write, but you don’t glance back at her. You can hear the scribble of her marker, her capping it. When you’re finished, you finally look at her, taking in the soft expression on her face, and despite yourself, a smile grows on your face too. Together, you turn your boards, your answers being the exact same once more — quality time and physical touch. “Ten for ten, baby,” you croon, raising your hand for her to smack her palm against.

“Great job!” Madelyn says. “Let me just go submit these scores and I’ll be back to walk you guys through the puzzle round after eliminations. Sit tight.” She offers the two of you a quick grin before she’s walking off.

“Ten for ten,” Paige repeats, nudging you a little. “We’re like that?”

“I guess we’re actually kinda good at this friends thing,” you retort, although part of you wishes you were anything but.

Paige’s subsequent grin is far too knowing, like she has a trick up her sleeve. “Maybe a little.”

You laugh a little under your breath, adjusting your dress and leaning back in your chair to get comfortable. Before you know it, the scores are officially in. You and Paige had a perfect one, so you weren’t all too worried about getting eliminated in the first round, but five unlucky couples ended up leaving. The two of you watched from afar, trying not to stare too hard at the retreating couples, although they made it hard. One girl walked out crying, gesturing wildly as her partner trailed behind her, a desperate expression on her face. Another one was pure anger, slamming the door behind her. You didn’t think that this club contest would get people so riled up, but you considered that it was probably the realization that your partner truly didn’t know anything about you. You just lucked out with Paige – she understood you.

Madelyn returns quickly and cuts straight to the point. She instructs you and Paige to stand up, handing the both of you a towel, and adjusts your arms until you’re holding the towels perpendicular to each other, almost intertwined. “The goal here is to separate from each other, but it can be tricky because the towels will tangle you up. We’re looking to see how fast you can solve this puzzle and how well the two of you work together. Are you guys ready?” You and Paige nod and Madelyn grins again. “Alright. You can start.”

Instantly, the room around you two is sheer pandemonium. The couples around you are moving quickly, trying to untangle themselves, but it’s clear that the panic is settling in. You and Paige exchange a glance, laughing to each other softly. “Game plan?” she asks you.

“We need to get these like…not perpendicular,” you offer helpfully, and Paige nods, adjusting her arms. The angle change makes your towels bunch up and twist at their centers.

“Spin around,” she instructs. You do as so, the towels untwisting around the middle. You pause to analyze your situation, trying to plan out the moves in your head as Paige does the same.

“Okay, bring your towel over my head and let me step through it.” After that move, the both of you glance down, taking in your situation.

Paige hums. “The rest is easy,” she says. You nod in agreement, a silent understanding passing between the two of you and you move in tandem, twisting and shifting and stepping up until you’re both finally separating from each other in record time, having completed the puzzle. “We’re like that?” she asks you again, her expression smug and satisfied in a way that’s only comparable to when she’s on the court and her lips are curling after sinking a contested three point shot.

“Dream team,” you remind her, letting the victory wash over you, clapping your hand against hers, although she doesn’t immediately release you, squeezing your hand with a proud smile.

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen anyone solve it that quickly,” Madelyn admits. “Or that calmly.” As soon as she says it, a commotion from the other side of the room draws your attention. There’s one couple that are twisted so unnaturally that it looks like they’re playing Twister, but it seems that the girl gets tired of the shenanigans because she drops her towel and storms out with a frustrated yell. “Case in point.”

You laugh and Madelyn walks away again to tally the points and make their final eliminations. Once everything is set, five couples remain out of the initial fifteen. After the last challenge, two couples will be eliminated once more and the remaining three will be given prizes in order of points. You and Paige were determined to finish strong – if the first two challenges were any indicator, you two had this in the bag. True to Paige’s word, the couples were being split up for the last challenge, and she offers you a competitive smile as Madelyn whisks her away.

You pass the time on your phone although Paige isn’t gone for long. However, what does shock you is the sudden bashfulness that’s clear as day on her features, like the last challenge had made her confess something important or she had to be vulnerable. You can’t help the sudden worry that seizes your body, but Paige rests a hand on your hip, squeezing you once with a confident smile. It couldn’t be that bad.

Madelyn leads you into an adjacent room where the president of the club is sitting at a table waiting for you. She smiles when you enter, motioning to the seat across from her, and it feels strangely like entering the principal’s office in elementary school, like you’re in trouble for something. The club president doesn’t spare any time for pleasantries and instead cuts right to the chase, something that you’re grateful for.

“I’m not gonna take up anymore of your time, but after seeing you and your partner perform so well in this contest, I only have two questions for you,” she explains. “This is our second year running this contest and no one has scored as high as you two have, which is kind of insane because the third round scores haven’t been added yet.” You smile politely, honestly unsure of what to say, but the club president continues. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Going on three months,” you respond, thinking back to the timeline you and Paige had agreed on, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. You are a little surprised by how real your next words feel. “We were best friends for a really long time before then – we still are. Paige is just…that kind of person that makes you feel like you’ve spent forever with her, you know?”

The club president hums, agreeing. She pauses before glancing up at you, studying your features. “What’s something that you haven’t told your girlfriend, but you would want her to know?”

You hardly need the time to think about your answer, responding, “That I love her.” The club president’s expression softens, a smile growing on her face. “We haven’t, um, gotten there yet, but I mean it. I wanna make it perfect for her. She’s given so much to me in the short time we’ve been together and in the time we were friends. And she just…she means everything to me.”

She smiles. “I think you guys are perfect for each other.”

Despite yourself, you smile, a blush spreading across your cheeks. “I think so, too.”

After your solo questioning wraps up, you meet Paige at your table and you offer her a bashful grin, similar to the one she’d offered you when she returned. You don’t have the chance to say anything else to her as the final round of eliminations are being announced. You and Paige are spared, which doesn’t surprise you, and the two eliminated couples take their loss with dignity as they exit. Paige links her hand with yours – final three. In third place, Team Parker. In second…Team Hayes, which means that first place can only be –

“Team Bueckers.”

You and Paige relax immediately, high fiving each other in celebration. What you’re not fully expecting is the tight hug that Paige pulls you into, whispering a fond good job into your ear, although you can’t help the way you soften, sinking into her embrace. She leads you to the center of the room to collect your goodie basket. The various club members send you off with their congratulations, too, and you pretend to not notice the slick wink that Madelyn shoots you as you and Paige walk out.

The night air is cool, making you shiver slightly, and Paige doesn’t hesitate before she’s sliding off her blazer and settling it over your shoulders. You smile gently at her. “You won’t be cold?” you murmur.

“Nah,” she promises, nudging you. “I can handle it. You, though? I’on know.”

“That’s no way to treat someone who just won you these spa coupons,” you say, reaching into the gift basket to wave said coupons in the air. “C’mon, I clutched up, you can’t lie. And to think you wouldn’t have even had a partner for this if you didn’t rope me into it. I think we played our parts pretty well.”

Paige laughs gently, a tinkling sound that carries over the drag of the wind. “You still don’t get it, do you?” she asks, but there’s no true offense behind her words.

You stare at her in confusion. “Get what?” you respond.

“Do you remember that question Madelyn asked you earlier?” Paige says, her steps slowing, tilting her head down to look at you. The street lights reflect off of her face so beautifully, the blue of her eyes illuminated by the soft light. You can’t help the way your heart constricts at the sight. “‘Who confessed to who?’” You hum, urging her to go on. “You remember what I said? That you were oblivious and I dropped a lot of hints you didn’t pick up on?”

The gears in your brain spin for a few revolutions before everything clicks into place. “Oh my God,” you breathe out. “Are you–”

“Confessing?” she says, her lips quirking into a smile. “Yeah.”

“You dropped hints before?”

“So many,” she confirms.

“Oh my God,” you say again. You stop in your tracks, prompting her to do the same. The expression on her face is endlessly amused. “You planned a huge romantic thing – this?”

She shrugs. “The contest was the club’s shit, but yeah. I planned on asking you to come with me to this. I didn’t actually care about the prize, but the coupons are pretty sweet, right?”

You shake your head, ignoring her rambling. “You planned a huge romantic thing, but I still didn’t get it at the end, so you told me straight up,” you finish, partly in disbelief. “You think you’re so fucking slick, don’t you?” you accuse, which just makes her break out into laughter. “You literally sat next to me and told me exactly how you were going to ask me out and I didn’t know? And not only did you do that, but you were right about it?”

“I know you,” Paige says a little smugly. “And I told you that I could be romantical.”

“You are such a pain in my ass,” you whisper, but her arm is slinking around your waist, pulling you into her body as she grins insufferably, and you let yourself be pulled, your hands resting on her chest. “You are literally so annoying.”

Her nose brushes yours as she inches a little closer. “You know what they asked me in the final round?” she says, her voice loud enough for only you to hear. You nod. “They said, ‘What’s something you haven’t told your partner, but you’d like to?’”

“Funny,” you say. “They asked me the same thing.”

She smiles at you. “I told them I’d tell you that I love you,” she confesses.

Your cheeks burn as you register her words. “Funny,” you say again. “I told them the same thing.”

Her expression shifts, something like relief flashing in her eyes, something tender in her gaze. “Did you?”

“Well, I told them that’s what I would tell my girlfriend,” you trail off intentionally. “Seeing as I don’t currently have one of those…”

“Don’t play,” Paige murmurs, squeezing your hip gently, drawing a laugh from you. “Be mine?”

“You gonna share those coupons?”

Her eyes are bright when she responds. “I’on even care about them. Just want you.”

“You’ve got me.”

That promise is all she needs. She smiles at you, happiness in her features, and she doesn’t waste any time before she’s leaning in fully, her lips finding yours. You’re eagerly responding, melting into her as her arm tightens around your waist. You loop yours around her neck, standing on the tips of the toes for better leverage. Before you know it, her grin grows too wide and the two of you are laughing against each other’s lips, the sound of your love and giddiness the perfect way to end a perfect night. If you had Paige Bueckers and her annoyingly charming antics to look forward to, then one thing is for certain – you couldn’t wait to see what she had in store for Valentine’s Day next year.

[obeymeluv]

In Your Defense [PT 1 - Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi? AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length. Trying to get everyone done today. It's my last day off for a few.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

Riddle likes to think he's made great strides not being angry but hearing some utterly disgusting joke about 'how much do you cost?' sends him like nothing else ever has. This guy is tall and so unimpressive, so plain, so average that Riddle can't really recall him at all. Maybe that's just the absolute fury blurring his vision. He knows he's not breathing but his chest isn't burning near as much as his face; the heat is spreading quick and he can feel it in his cheeks and neck. Temples pounding, his vaguely aware of the growl bubbling in his chest as it threatens to slip past his clenched teeth.

Ace calls it his teapot snarl.

Before Riddle knows it, he's flown off the handle and he's going off on a rant. The whole shop is quiet, people physically backing away as he just methodically unravels everything about this cretin from outfit, posture, presence, delivery, unoriginality--everything. Honestly, he doesn't even remember everything he said. The redhead doesn't even tune back into the sound of his own voice until he ends the onslaught with, "You've just paid twenty thaumarks to embarrass yourself but that pales in comparison to the fact that you thought you had a chance with them. You should be ashamed!"

The man slinks away, sad little bag dragging off the counter.

Whispers and giggles diffuse throughout the shop. He ignores the looks that come his way, using the time to come back to himself. Riddle fixes his cute casual clothes, content with the fact you picked them out together. He catches sight of the matching rose clips on your outfit and in you hair and smiles softly. "A strawberry cookie and a cake pop, please." he clears his throat, fishing his wallet out of his pocket.

Sam had an assortment of sweets and he was going to capitalize on strawberry's popularity while he could. He saw you root through the display case, carefully considering the designs even though they were all supposed to taste the same (allegedly).

"Sure thing. Your total is 12 thaumarks. Thanks for stopping by Sam's Mystery Shop! Happy Valentine's Day!"

He hands you the thaumarks as you take the time to slide the I LOVE YOU cookie in his bag.

----

Deuce is an honors student! He is a good boy that's going to make his mother proud!

HE IS SO GOING TO PUNCH THIS MOTHERFUCKER IN THIS FACE!

His shoulders tense, fist clenching at his side. "Why, you think they're cheap? Something to be bought? What an insult!" his head snaps up as he stares down the slightly taller boy. Deuce's teal eyes turn a dark turquoise; the giddy glint of seeing you and chocolate eggs in one place turns to something sharp and steely. He hands the chocolate eggs to Ace, turning right back around to stare the creep down. Old habits die hard; he's grinding a fist into his hand.

"Aren't you the guy always complaining about limited time sales being unfair? Not my problem you missed the window." the guy scoffs, leaning back against the cashier counter. "Anyways," the guy tilts his head back and starts talking to you.

You look uncomfortable and angry that you can't handle this yourself. Professionalism and all.

"You may have caught the window but I'm about to show you the door." Deuce draws up on him with a quickness people have never seen. Not many people know about all the fights he used to get into. Gripping the guy's hair almost to the point of pulling it out, steering him like a panicked bull, Deuce all but chucks him out the front door of the shop. He turns around to walk back inside and buy his chocolate eggs but that spine-tingling feeling of someone fixing to take a cheap shot makes him pivot and nail the guy with a solid kick to the chest. The guy falls back on his butt, breath hitching.

Deuce scoffs and wipes his shoes on the step before going into the shop. The door is almost closed behind him when he hears a strained grunt. He's been in enough fights to know the guy is off the ground and making one last attempt to catch him from the back. More than done with this and just wanting his damn eggs and to say hi to you in all your festive lace, he shoulder checks the door like he's trying to shove Jack out of the lunch line (which he would NEVER, EVER DO).

The guy falls with a satisfying thud and Deuce tries his best to relax his face as he resumes his place in line. It's red from aggravation and the fact he's fishing for his thaumarks because he's forgotten what pocket he put it in. "Sorry about that," he tries to uncrumple the thaumarks a little before handing them to you. "And the face. My face. Not your face! Your face is fine! Like, you're not ugly! I just, uh--"

"Take the change, Deuce-y!" Ace is standing behind him, guiding his nervous body like a puppet. He makes Deuce grab the change and turns him around, shoving him away from the counter before he can make it any worse. "Now help me move this guy's body! He's out cold!"

---

Ace can only laugh when he hears that line. First of all, it's weak. Secondly, the dude must not have any faith in his game if the delivery depends on you being captive behind the counter. During work hours. With an obligation to be forward facing and listening to whatever he says.

"Why? You worried about your budget, buddy?" Ace laughs, hands laced together behind his head.

The guy snaps up, stick-straight. "N-No! I was just--" his face is blooming pink.

"People aren't products, bro. There's no discounts." Ace shakes his head.

"W-What I meant was, I want to take you on a date!" the guy turns back to you and flashes a big smile. All of Ace's pouty mutters fall on deaf ears. Not because he's being quiet, but because the guy is straight up ignoring him. He's not sure where the idea comes from--he'll blame it on an itchy hand--but he sneaks a couple of small candies in the guy's pocket. Sam's familiar top hat bobs into view, snaking around the shelves.

"DON'T FORGET TO PAY FOR THE STUFF IN YOUR POCKETS!" Ace felt confident in his sleight of hand tricks. It wouldn't be the first time he tricked NRC students. It's actually really easy to do. That works in his favor because if everyone can't get their story straight or agree on what they saw, he's a free man.

Sam materializes at the edge of the aisles and seems to stare into the boy's soul. "Young man, please step aside."

Ace looks like the cat that ate the canary as he moseys up to the counter and slaps the box of cherry cordials down. He buys a cherry sucker at the last second, not seeing it at first. "Thanks, Sweets!" Ace winks at you as he strolls out with the bag.

Sam nearly scares him out of his skin, leaning against the wood just outside the door. Ace finally feels the tug of shadows on his feet. "Speaking of sweets," Ace flinches and hides his ear with his blazer, groaning as Sam hooks an arm around his neck and pulls him into his chest sternly. "I understand your frustration, Little Imp. Young love is adorable in all it's wiles! But mark my words, Little Imp: if you lie about wrongdoings in my shop again, you will not come back. Clear?"

"Yes sir." Ace gulps.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Little Imp."

---

Trey isn't really surprised to hear what he just did. 'Boys will be boys', as the saying goes. Frankly, he's disappointed. He's heard smarter things come out of his little brother and sister.

He adjusts his glasses, mentally trying to relax the knot between his eyebrows.

Should he say something? Of course he wants to. It's you! He's been on the other side of the counter plenty of times and has had vivid daydreams of sticking a customer in a stand mixer. But, then again, he has a reputation to uphold and anything he does could reflect back on Riddle.

And send Riddle into a fit, giving him something else to handle.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he'd have the element of surprise. People--especially men--don't cook enough to know how much arm strength it takes to lift twenty pound bags of flour on the regular. Or the stamina it takes to walk said bags from Sam's shop to Heartslabyul. Even the small five-pound bag of sugar in his basket would suffice as a weapon; the sugar was packed enough to hit like a brick if he lobbed it.

Trey's running the options through his head, almost settling on just saying 'how much for you to stop?' when he sees the end of a sucker rolling between the guy's teeth. Too easy, Trey pushes his glasses up on his nose, hand hiding his smile and the quiet incantation for "Paint the Roses".

All of a sudden the guy is gagging and running for the door. You and everyone else are wondering what the hell just happened. He doesn't come back in. One brave soul suggested he had a really bad gag reflex and the sucker did him in. Only Trey knows it was a mix of sour milk and the pungent soy sauce tart nightmare he tricked Riddle into making once.

"Just this, please. Oh! And what Sam had on hold for me." Trey hands you the sugar, relishing in the brush of your hands.

"Candied violets and a bag of sugar. Twenty thaumarks, please."

"Thanks." Trey smiles at you, laying the sugar flat so his delicate, delectable candied violets don't get crushed.

"Thank you." you smile brightly, handing him the change.

----

Cater wants to gag. Normally Valentine's confessions are cute and IN THE RIGHT SETTING pickup lines are amazing. This? This is a tragedy. Mostly because there is ZERO chemistry and you look #uncomfortable.

He's big on consent since he's always looking for collabs and people to pose with on Magicam so maybe that's why this scene bothers him. Aside from the fact that you're out of this guy's league, obviously. Like, it's really an insult to your time.

'How much do you cost?' Really? You're #priceless.

His brows furrow, lips thinning as he wonders what to do. He plays with the idea of Split Card and creating a small crowd of copies to boo and jeer the guy but the store would be even more packed than it already is. Cater's green eyes twinkle as it hits him. Turning his phone longways, he zooms in on the guy and tells him to keep going because he's live on Magicam. "Don't worry! I've already got all the V-day tags on there! Everyone will see it!"

He's friends with practically everyone at NRC so this guy will be seen by everyone.

Something sick and unfriendly and satisfied swirls in him as the guy's face pales in real time. If he zooms in a little, he can get the beads of sweat in there. "I'll, uh--another time, okay?" the guy darts off and abandons his handful of candy at the register.

"Haul coming later! 'K, bye!" Cater sends a peace sign to the camera, smiling at his own face. He swipes the little chocolates into his basket nonchalantly. He's not even the biggest sweets person but those are his now!

"Gonna have a spicy Valentine's Day, huh?" you ring up the cups of spicy ramen.

"You know it!" he laughs.

"I get it. You have to balance out how sweet you are." you smirk up at him. "Twenty-four thaumarks, please."

#in love. #kiddingnotkidding. #sendhelp. #downbad.

----

Leona doesn't even know why he bothered to show up to Sam's. He could just send Ruggie to get whatever he wanted. The variety of jerky was somewhat tempting but he could just as easily take the bus and get a proper meal off campus. And yet, he stood there with a gloved hand in his pocket, tail swishing back and forth in mild agitation. His green eyes sweep over the winding line until they land on you at the front.

His cheeks warm a little and he scoffs at himself, pretending to pick through the hanging strips of sunflower seeds as the line moves. Every step gets him closer to this soft, powdery scent with just a hint of sweetness. He starts to blame it on all the chocolate and candy and sugary shit exploding out of every possible spot in the store but there's this unmistakable undertone of skin.

Your skin.

He's only caught the scent a million times while hiding from people in the Botanical Gardens. Or when he's forced to attend class, catching a hint of you in the halls.

Leona's not sure why he cares anything about you because you're not magical. You're not interesting.

You shouldn't be, but you are.

You're literally the only person he's ever met from another world. You have no context for the Sunset Savanna or the hierarchy of it. To you, everyone is impressive. He can be something to you.

Why does that matter? He doesn't even know. That's what he tells himself, anyways. You say you have no magic but Leona thinks you can read minds. The look you always give him isn't a pitying one, but a curious one that seeks to dissect him and force him to face everything he keeps shoved deep down inside himself.

Part of him is waiting for the day you pull the right thread and he comes undone in the way he knows he need but can't find the strength for. Somewhere in that knotted mess is his true feelings for you. The stuff he can't admit.

You stand admirably on your own two feet, roughing it out like Ruggie, but you're so far from the intimidating women of the Sunset Savanna. You're approachable and soft; you're built like prey but you have the quick thinking of a predator.

Something in your demeanor changes--your hands pause and flutter nervously--and he's on alert. He's careful to relax his grip lest he crush the box of protein bars for Jack. His ears sling forward and his eyes narrow as he catches that half-baked flirting attempt. Leona doesn't even bother to hide the sneer twisting his face.

Just the thought of you with that hopeful schmuck is nauseating.

Suddenly the scent of all the males around you is overwhelming. Disgusting.

"If you have to ask about the price, you can't afford it. Haven't ya ever heard that before?" Leona 'hmphs' triumphantly, one hand on his hip as he bends down slightly to stare the chump in the face. "Askin' about the price is tacky."

"Wh-what was my total again?"

All Leona had to do was stare at the back of the human's neck. Humans, much like prey animals, grew really squirmy when a predator stared at them too long. Or encroached on their space, much like he was doing. It was for the hell of it at this point.

Leona made a mental note of the guy's face as he scampered off like a terrified cub and looked forward to the day he could send a stray spelldrive disk in his direction.

"Hey Herbivore," Leona plunked the basket down unceremoniously.

"Hey Leona," you looked down at the random stuff in his basket, trying not to smile at what just happened. Something warm and--dare he say it?--proud welled up in his chest when he realized you were happy about him scaring the guy off.

The heart-shaped stickers he kept finding on everything when he got back to Savanaclaw helped, too.

----

Ruggie lived for the holiday specials at Sam's. He was a bit put out that he wasn't picked to staff the Valentine's shift but the in-store discounts were a small consolation. It'd be better if he could stack them with an employee discount but he'd take what he could get! His mouth started watering as soon as he entered, sniffing out deliciously fluffy donuts.

Hopefully people would be distracted with the lollypops and chocolates and leave his donuts alone!

He choked down the occasional nervous whine when people gravitated too close to the donut display, distracting himself with the decor and wondering what would be most profitable to flip. His eyes began to wander to the people in front of him; Ruggie tsk'd at how casual and unguarded they were. Ripe for the picking, he looked at their wallets and fistfuls of thaumarks just out in the open.

If he wasn't worried about being banned from Sam's and losing some gigs he'd--

"How much do you cost?"

EXCUSE ME?! Ruggie freezes, eyes going wide and ears twitching when he hears that. The dude said that and LIVED?

Oh, right. You're not a Savanna girl. The girls back home would beat him up and make him pay them to stop. Or just smack the shit out of him hard enough to put him in a coma. Maybe break his jaw so he can't drop anymore awful lines.

Women are to be respected! Not treated like something you can purchase!

Given that you weren't a Savanna girl and were bound by the rules of 'I'm currently on the clock', Ruggie took things into his own hands. You could just treat him later!

"Laugh with Me!" Ruggie hisses, backing into the closest display. It was a little bump to him but far more to the guy up front. He waved his arm around, skimming the bags of gummy candies while the guy at the register knocked down a whole tower of balloons on a stick. Bending over just enough to line the guy's head up with the counter, Ruggie lunges forward.

WOMP!

Oh it was so satisfying. The guy is hopelessly, helplessly stunned. He gathers his bearings and Ruggie slides his foot out; the guy loses his footing and slams into the counter again.

Only two times before he gives up? Kind of weak-willed, Ruggie thinks with a little smirk as he side-steps the disoriented guy and waits patiently to check out. Sam tends to him while you get the donuts he's been craving.

They'll taste even better because they smell like you. Happy Valentine's Day to him!

-----

Jack is usually very stoic but a lot of people mistake his stoic observation for irritation. He would blame it on his intimidating physique but he's not sorry and takes great pride in his appearance. He's a beastman--a Howl!--he's supposed to be intimidating! Intimidating appearance aside, Jack is also a very helpful soul.

A good boy, if you will.

The only reason he's in Sam's is on Ruggie's behalf. He was tasked with picking up a few things and was more than happy to help out his senior. They were from the same dorm, after all! Practically a pack! You have to help your pack!

He's not really bothered by the amount of people, more focused on keeping his tail out of people's way and making sure he doesn't knock anything over. All at once, the atmosphere changes a little. There's a hint of sour in the air and a noticeable hike in someone's pulse.

It's your pulse. You look...distressed? Why are you distressed? Where is the threat?

Whatever it was, he missed it and he's cursing himself.

His ears swing forward as he catches bits and pieces of conversations. Some people are complaining the guy is taking too long, other people are laughing at his crappy pickup line. Some people are wondering if it's going to work.

This was a weak display if he ever saw one. The guy didn't even look confident in himself! All of your body language has now firmed up into rejection but the guy's not getting the hint. He's trying the 'oh, c'mon!' thing his siblings do when they want to play.

You don't know it, but you've been feeding Jack when he trots by in wolf form. He likes to finish off his morning jogs in wolf form to really stretch his joints and obliques. It was supposed to be a one-off thing, him following the tantalizing aroma of food to your door. Your cooking is fantastic and while you don't know that you're a pack mate, you're a pack mate!

You're just a pack mate who feeds him and gives him occasional pets. And these to die for scratches that he'd kill to feel with his real skin instead of fur. Any touch would be fine, really. Not that you'd ever know.

Jack doesn't even know he's growling until people start moving out of his way. The growl crescendos as he walks towards the guy. Tail bristling, Jack opens his mouth to show off sharp canines. "Get lost! They're not interested in you! They're just trying to work!"

As expected, the guy tucks tail and runs. Jack snorts, licking his lips that have suddenly become dry. His ears don't know what to do, caught between catching all the murmurs behind him and wanting to press down in embarrassment.

It's quiet but he hears it. "Thank you, Jack."

"Don't mention it," he crosses his arms, looking everywhere but you as you scan his items. He was avoiding looking at you directly but he notices you slip a few extra beef sticks into his bag. He blushes.

Yeah, don't mention that either.

[dduane]

Erotica and anniversaries

...The big E, first. Here she is. Isn't she lovely?

...Right there upstairs at the Library of Congress, on the second floor. (I noted at the time we passed through some years back—and continue to smile at the memory—that her artist has included his copyright statement right there, to make sure no one misses it.)

...Anyway, where were we? ...Oh yeah: the local takes on erotic writing and smut.

This subject seems to come up every couple of years. What nudged me into revisiting it this time was the notes off a comment to a post earlier today, responding to someone working on an explicit-leaning AU, and discussing the writing of (story) bibles for projects.

Anyway, the notes:

#love that the advice was not just 'stick to porn' or 'don't write porn at all' but 'ah yes; common problem; let me explain to you how to write a series bible'

Well, disclosure here: in my case, it can't really be otherwise. :)

Let this act as everybody's sort-of-biennial reminder (if needed) that I'm not going to be caught condemning people for writing smut, as I've written it myself. (And continue to do so when the mood moves me.)

The post from very nearly two years ago, discussing the issue in more detail, is over here. As you'll see if you read it, there were some folks who experienced brief episodes of cognitive dissonance on learning I was a cheerful writer of explicit material. Some of the surprise was probably due to the fact that a lot of people see me—mostly due to the relatively-higher profile of the Young Wizards books—as primarily a writer for younger readers.

But that's not how I got started. My (1979) debut novel centers a universe where the following exchange between two of the protagonists appears—they then being wrapped up in blankets and afterglow in the wake of a prolonged and enthusiastic post-reunion shag:

A soft chuckle in the darkness. “Lorn, remember that first time we shared at your place?” “That was a long time ago.” “It seems that way.” “—and my father yelled up the stairs, ‘What are you dooooooooing?’ “—and you yelled back, ‘We’re fuckinnnnnnnnnnng!’” “—and it was quiet for so long—” “—and then he started laughing—” “Yeah.”

Nor was this a one-off. This book and its sequels contain a fair number of passages in which human (and occasionally non-human) sexualities, both in the abstract and the experientially concrete, take center stage. And the mode in which they're expressed and discussed is intended for adults. Those sequences can probably be described as at least borderline erotica. (I certainly try had to be as graceful about such passages as I can, when and where it's appropriate to be.)

With this in mind, it's worth repeating what turns up in that earlier post, which came off a query to a ficcer about "how do you feel knowing that people may be jerking off to your work?":

I'm an entertainer. Writing's a form of entertainment. (And not just for the readership: for me, too.) To be aroused by art one's experienced is (almost by definition) to be entertained, I'd say...

Other people's art in these modes certainly is entertaining for me: and I desperately hope mine is for other people. (Almost all my more explicit writing is published only pseudonymously, which from my point of view is just fine. There's a fair amount of writing work out in the world that [for contractual or other business reasons] doesn't have my name on it. This is just more of the same.)

(Per that, adding here again my own tags from that earlier post:)

#and no I'm not going to let on where the smut is#why would i deny anyone the delights of the search#and of being repeatedly mistaken#while possibly finding smut writers who're better at it than i am#:)

Anyway, finally: from that earlier post—on nearly the thirty-eighth anniversary of something happening to me that would, just a year before the event, have seemed wildly unlikely—this note, unusually apposite because of what today is, and what's coming tomorrow.

I consider erotica—and its more casually-dressed (or undressed…) cousin, smut—to be perfectly legit forms of literary expression; ones that can soar to unexpected heights if you’re willing to put in the work. The sexy-stuff-writing muscle requires periodic exercise if it’s to remain viable and/or useful. So I exercise it. And being a 70-plus-year-old person who sometimes creaks audibly when she walks has done absolutely nothing to decrease my interest in the subject—the brain being, after all, the biggest sex organ, and the one least vulnerable to the depredations of time. If anything, nearly fifty years of experience (and more than three and a half decades of marriage to @petermorwood) have added… let’s just say nuance. 😏

So, happy Valentine's Day to all those who choose to celebrate, in whatever mode.

And to the Man Upstairs:

...See you in a few, sweetie. :)

[bloodyentrails]

idk if you saw the outrun, it came out earlier this year, it's based on a memoir by a recovering alcoholic. and actually it did quite well (for my taste) with portraying recovery and how fraught it is, and how setbacks happen. i thought it was quite honest.

i think v often recovery doesn't have much arc to it and i think the movie struggled with that, too. when everything, as you say, is 'not te end of the world', i think the story lacks stakes.

i have worked in physiotherapy, and i know how recovery from injuries is steady work and setbacks and persevering. but i'm not sure that's inherently very dramatic. and perhaps i am wrong about that.

the most i have encountered recovery stories in fanfic, and i think they fall into the category of wrestling a story from canon that canon is aggressively not interested in. and in the way that fanfic can allow us to experience catharsis from a story that previously refused to give it to us, i think that works for me. but it's a niche sort of genre, i think.

what i'm trying to say is that the dialogue between fanfic and canon and the tension that creates is something i'm very interested in but that is wholly absent from a real recovery. unless i'm sorely mistaken.

but also i'd love for this to be perhaps something that happens more frequently. what i often miss wrt toxic people is that the audience gets to experience them being removed as if that once was all it took when people tend to take much longer for identifying toxic behaviour and find this much more difficult.

i still don’t understand why recovery isn’t romanticized more. getting better after being at your lowest point? working hard and doing what it takes to feel safe again? knowing that occasional dips aren’t the end of the world? changing yourself and ridding your life of toxic behavior/people? i’m sorry that sounds better than any edgy miserable story i’ve ever heard. 

[antifainternational]

I have a group of acquaintances from my hometown who are mostly “moderate Republicans”, but only because they don’t really pay attention and are young straight white men from an affluent suburb. I don’t hang out with them, but we’re all in a group chat together (that they keep adding me to every time I try to leave). I figured since I was there, I might as well try to introduce them to some leftist, anti-authoritarian ideas. It’s been working—I’ve even seen a shift with the one proper alt-right guy from constantly posting evil shit unfettered to keeping his mouth shut except to occasionally completely make a fool of himself while trying to debate me—but it’s slow. With everything else that’s happening in the US, I’m wondering if this is a worthwhile use of time.

You've already shifted one of your acquaintances from the red pill/alt-right pipeline a bit, so you've answered your own question, Anon! We suggest you keep up the good work here. In fact, we've got some resources for you: If you dig through our Asks Archive, you'll find lots of examples where we responded to the most common bullshit peddled by the far-right. There might be good ammo in there for you to use to continue swaying these guys. The Western States Center has a number of guides offering solid advice on how to respond when people close to you are going down the wrong path. Generally, avoid name-calling and responding with facts is effective. A good way to frame what you say is to Affirm, Answer, & ReDirect: -Affirm that what the person is saying is real and comes from a place of real concern that you understand. This validates them and makes them more open to listening to you. -Answer (or respond) to what they're saying factually. You want to be clear, concise, and concrete when you answer. Make your answer as clear, direct, and succinct as possible and based it on real-world, concrete evidence. -Now you want to ReDirect the person's concern or anger away from the target they thought was appropriate to where they should be angry. To demonstrate: Person 1: I'm fed up with not being able to afford proper housing! There's just not enough homes in this country with all the immigrants coming here! We need to close our borders to makes sure we can house our own people! Person 2: (Affirming): I definitely hear you. It sickens me that so many people are living on the streets here. Rents our out of control. We shouldn't have to worry about whether or not we're going to have a roof over our heads from one month to the next. (Answering): But what is the real problem here? We're one of the richest countries in the world, yet for every one person living on the streets, there are 28 vacant homes available that the owners are just sitting on. The top 20 corporate landlords control over 1.4 million homes. Turning housing from a basic necessity into something to speculate on and try to get rich with means sky-high rents and homes sitting empty while people sleep in the streets. (Redirecting): Immigrants aren't the reason for the housing crisis - relying on capitalism to provide housing when it's only designed to provide profits is the reason! If you are genuinely upset about housing situation here, you need to focus on the people that created the problem and profit from it - wealthy landlords and landowners and the politicians that pass laws that only make them wealthier, at the expense of the rest of us!

[eunandonly]

HOW BOYNEXTDOOR LOVES YOU

how boynextdoor shows their love for you, even if it isn't always by words

( 対 ) boynextdoor + fem. reader 1230WC · tooth rotting fluff contains! skinship, kissing so cheesy holy sharts / archive

은 : sorry for posting so late >< i've been so busy lately because of exams and couldn't post, but i'm back now ^^ i hope you enjoy ~

myung jaehyun

with myung jaehyun, love isn’t just quiet care. it’s a bit like him; bubbly and playful. he’ll throw his jacket over you with a little joke and a smile that warms you up more than the jacket itself, winking as he pulls the lapels up dramatically to keep you protected from the cold wind. 

he notices things, even if he pretends not to. “you’re holding your bag funny. give it to me.” he’ll say, taking it from you before you can even protest. it doesn’t matter if it weighs a ton. jaehyun will carry it for you.

on rainy days when you two are sharing an umbrella, he’ll tilt it to your side so you’re protected from the raindrops even as his side gets drenched in rainwater. when you try to tilt the umbrella back to him, or tell him to get under it properly, he’ll just smile and say, “i like the rain.” before giving you a peck on the cheek.

and with all this, jaehyun never expects anything in return. jaehyun gives his love without expectation or demand because, well, he loves you.

park sungho

sungho could listen to you talk forever. whatever nonsense you say, whatever irrelevant thing you’re rambling about, if it’s you, it becomes poetry to park sungho. 

sungho remembers the smallest details about you. he remembers the way you take your coffee, the name of the book you once mentioned during a conversation, the exact shade of the sky on the day you first said “i love you.”

sometimes, he even remembers the things you forget; the date of your childhood hamster’s birthday, the lyrics to a song you used to hum under your beeath as you busied yourself in the kitchen- which he took the time to figure out what song it exactly was so he could play it for you on the guitar one day- the way you scrunch your nose when you’re deep in thought. some people say these random bits and pieces of you are useless, but sungho keeps them close, storing the, in the quiet corners of his mind to pull out when the time is just right.

“you like this one, right?” sungho will say, handing you a drink exactly the way you like it. “you wanted to watch this movie,” he’ll murmur as he turns on a film you mentioned briefly weeks ago. “you always sleep better when it rains,” he’ll say, opening a window when the first drops hit the pavement.

park sungho says your name like it’s the most beautiful word in the world. it’s not just a name to him, it’s much more than that. 

lee sanghyuk

riwoo often reaches for you without realising. his fingers brush yours when you’re walking side by side, barely a whisper of his warm skin against yours, but enough to make your breath hitch. he tucks a stray strand of hair behind our ear absentmindedly during conversations, his touch light as if he’s handling delicate glass.

riwoo doesn’t even notice how often he does it. how his body naturally gravitates towards yours like second nature. when you’re laughing, he leans in just a little closer. you have a pretty laugh. when you’re focused on something, his hand settles on your wrist.

riwoo’s actions aren’t calculated. they’re not meant to fluster you. it’s simply how he is. his the type of person whose love is felt in the warmth of his palm against you break as he guides you through the door, in the way his knee knocks against yours under the table, in the way his drapes his arm around you.

sometimes when riwoo realises, it's different. the moment he realises that his fingers linger too long, that his touch isn’t just habit but something more, he hesitates. his eyes flicking to yours to make sure you’re not uncomfortable in any way. when he gets your reassurance, he shakes off any doubt with a small smile, his hand staying where it is.

han dongmin

taesan’s love is found in ink stained fingers and the way his lyrics always seem to sound like you. he doesn’t always say it outright, it’s not always blatantly there. but if you listen carefully, you’re woven into every song, every notes, every unfinished berse scribbled in the margins of his notebook.

maybe taesan doesn’t say “i love you” in the way others. but he’ll give you pieces of himself in a song, in a melody, in the esy his voice and eyes soften when he sings the lines that remind him of you.

when you can’t sleep in late hours of the night, taesan will sing you to sleep with a new song he worked on earlier that day, smiling down at you fondly as you doze off to his soft voice.

it’s taesan’s way of showing you love. he might not be the best and telling you exactly how much he loves you with words, but his music says enough for you to know. the lyrics that are always referencing you in one way or another, the melody that sounds a bit too much like your pretty laugh. he writes about late night talks and your pretty eyes, the way the silence between you two are comforting instead of lonely.

kim donghyun

leehan’s love for you is found in the way he looks at you- like you hold the stars in your hands, like you’re the only person existing in the vast universe. his gaze lingers a second too long, that moment always filled with unspoken words that can’t quite be translated into words.

it’s the way leehan’s pretty eyes soften when you talk, the way he watches you even when you’re not looking, memorising each and every detail of your face. he thinks you’re the best thing that ever happened to him, and he can’t help but admire you.

you’ll sometimes feel a gaze locked on you when you’re busy with something- cooking, studying, you name it. and when you turn, it’ll be leehan, staring at you with soft eyes and a gentle smile that only holds fondness. seeing you flustered from his gaze only makes him watch you more, smile widening when your cheeks turn pimk as you pretend you didn’t see him staring at you like that.

when you finally meet leehan’s gaze, when you finally catch the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters, you’ll understand just how much leehan loves you, even if it’s done quietly.

kim woonhak

woonhak’s love for you is found in laughter, the kind that leaves you breathless with a pain on your side, the kind that turns even the worst days into something bearable.

woonhak’s the person who notices when you’re quiet with tired eyes and a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. instead of asking what’s wrong and focing out words you don’t have, he nudges you with his shoulder, makes a ridiculous face and cracks the woest joke you’ve ever heard since you existed.

and somehow, somehow, it works.

perhaps the joke is so terrible, it made you laugh, or maybe it’s just that face woonhak made, but it gets a smile out of you. and that’s all he needs. 

woonhak always seems to know what you need. and when you laugh, the weight lifting just a little, he smiles like he’s gotten the whole world. 

well, to woonhak, he has.

[tonixe]

mine ౨ৎ

A/N: I'm back, yeah I know. I've been out for a few months or years idk. I wanted to write this, cuz I love dad!kento, also this been in my mind rent-free, and just hell yeah. Also happy Valentine's Day, and sorry for the late submission, but this was part of my Valentine's book/smutbook on Wattpadd/a03 so just a cross-post.

WARNING: p in the v, oral sex, cursing, no condom we fuck raw, cunnilingus, not proofread lmao...

PAIRING: nanami kento x reader

WORD COUNTER: 3135

Every morning, it was the same routine just like before, children laughing at the scent of heavily waxed crayons and baby wipes in the air, and the occasional wail from reluctant toddlers and kids. You have gotten so used to the chaos of kids, the rush of parents dropping their kids off before heading off to work,

"Look Miss. L/N—do you like the picture I drew!" you turned your head to see one of the toddlers, standing right beside you showing a picture they drew. You smiled, patting their head, 

"This looks so good, I'll make sure to hang this on the bulletin board," you said, crouching down to take hold of the drawing, the toddler smiled, as they ran back to the other kids exclaiming about how her drawing got to the bulletin board.

Yeah, it was the usual for you, working at the daycare. You readjusted your pastel yellow colored apron, and your hair in a ponytail so it doesn't get in your face, it takes a bunch of energy to take care of these kids filled with energy all day, the sound of footsteps echoed through the sound of yelling kids, you turned to see 

Him.

Yuuji's dad

The moment he walked it, it made your heart beat faster, feeling your cheeks heating up. You were in a quiet panic, you tell yourself it's just another parent, and just another kid check—all a part of your routine, you breathed. Usually, he always on-time, greeting you with a smile—like he was happy to see you. Maybe it's the way he take an extra moment to ask about Yuji's dad, that made you feel some type of way—or the way his deep voice makes your stomach flutter just a little too much.

But today, he was running late. He was a little disheveled, his green, polka-dot tie was loosened, and his blonde hair tousled like his finger was through it a little too many times. He's holding Yuji's tiny backpack in his right as his other freehand is holding onto his hand, the little boy skipping alongside him.

"Mr. Nanami" you called out, a smile on your face,

"Sorry for the rush," he says, his voice a little breathless as he steps up to you, "Mornings are always something different with him.." he gestures to Yuuji who was practically waiting to be free to run around.

You let out a little laugh, crouching down to Yuuji, whose attention was on you, "Did you give your dad some trouble?" you asked, teasing him.

You watched as Yuuji shook his head furiously, laughing a little bit.

"No! I just made him chase me around" he confessed, with a cheeky smile on his lips. You looked at Nanami, who just sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, and making you blush.

"He's not wrong" he admits, "he has speed—think I got to start training if I want to keep up with him"

You bit your lip, trying to suppress another smile, "Oh!—I'll take this" You took hold of Yuuji's backpack, and you felt Nanami's finger brushing against yours—the sensation of skin against skin made you freeze for a moment, it just send a sudden spark thorough you. 

The warmth of his hand is gone, as quick as it came as you had Yuuji's backpack in hand, your gaze flickered to him but he was looking directly at you. It wasn't a casual glance, not an accidental meeting of eyes—what were you even talking about, 

You cleared your throat, focusing back on Yuuji, "Alright, Yuji! You ready for a fun day" You smiled at him, and the pink-haired kid nodded enthusiastically, 

You stood up, as Nanami let out a small sigh, and ruffled Yuuji's hair, "Be good today, okay?" He patted Yuuji,

"I will, papa!" 

You watched as Yuuji started running into the play area, "You're really great with him, you know" You turned your attention to Nanami, his voice was softer but still deep. You fl your cheek heating up,  as you tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, "He's a great kid" you smiled.

He exhaled, for a small chuckle, "Yeah...he is—but I appreciate you looking out for him" he said, you nodded with a smile, turning a glance at Yuuji already playing with the other kids, 

"It's no problem," you said,  "it's actually my pleasure to have him with me"

He nods, taking a step backward, his attention now on his watch that was on his wrist, "Shoot—I have to go, I'll be a little late, picking Yuuji up"

"Okay!" you nodded, as you watched him leave out of the door, you tried to shake off the warmth that was still lingering from that one moment of fleeting touch, you started walking to the cubby as you put Yuuji's backpack in his cubby, 

𝜗𝜚

For the rest of the morning, you tried to shake off the lingering feeling from that brief touch, it clung onto you like so stubborn thought,—you couldn't let go of it. You were focused on your task—helping the kids with the art projects, cleaning up the paint spills, and singing songs during circle time. Suddenly, you felt Yuuji tugging at your sleeve, making you turn to him. 

"Miss L/N," he asked, tilting his head, you blinked down at him, "Yeah, Yuuji"

He grins after getting your attention, "My papa, thinks you're really nice.

You felt your stomach flipping, your breath hitched as you processed his words, before letting out a small laugh, a nervous one. "Oh? And how do you know that?" you asked, cocking your eyebrows.

"Cause he say so" Yuuji shrugs, completely unaware of the way his words send your heart into overdrive, "—And-and, one time, he said, 'Miss L/N, is really good with you, and I said yeah! And he smiled really big" 

Your breath caught slightly, "Well, I think your papa is really nice too"  you confessed, patting his head, you watched as he beamed, satisfied with your answer before he ran off again to join his friends at the craft table. Meanwhile, you were just crouching down gripping the stack of construction paper, realizing what JUST HAPPEN.

He talks about you...

You knew him to be polite, and kind—and always took an interest in his son's care, but the fact he brought you up in the conversation made your heart pang, even with the passing remark, made something warm bloom up in your chest.

As the day dragged on, parents started trickling into the daycare for pickup. Your eyes darted to the door as you helped give the parents their kid's backpack, you won't lie that you were waiting for him to show up, but it was going too late

And then, he walks in.

This time he wasn't rushed, his tie was still loosened even more, and you were able to see a little bit of his chest. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his strong forearms that you definitely shouldn't be looking at—but everything about made your ovaries go crazy.

He had a small, tired small on his face as he spots you with Yuuji, sitting on one of the colorful tables coloring.

You stood up, walking towards Nanami, 

"Hey," he says, his warm, deep voice made you even smile more.

"Hi," you reply, and you curse yourself for how breathless you were, then Yuuji runs straight to his father, hugging him tightly, "Papa!"

"Hey, buddy" Nanami chuckles, ruffling his hair, "Did you have a good day today?" he asked,

Yuuji nods excitedly, "Uh-huh! We painted and played outside, and Miss L/N made us animal-shaped snacks"

"Animal-shaped snacks, huh" Nanami looked up at you, and you shrugged, feigning nonchalance, "What can I say, the kids love it," you said, laughing—a deep, rich..genuine sound that made your knees weak. "That's impressive, I could barely cut yuuji's sandwiches into triangles without messing it up"

"Well,—if you ever need tips on some snack artistry, I'm your girl," you said, before you even fully processed your words, you were clearly flirting with him, but your words were already out, you watched him as he smirked.

"I'll keep that in mind"

Some silence came after, but it was all as long as it came. It was replaced by the familiar rush of parents coming in to get their kids. You stepped back, offering a small smile, "Well, you heard from him, Yuuji had a great day. I'll see you both tomorrow" You pointed at them, with a smile.

Nanami hesitates for a moment, "Yeah..tomorrow" but before he turns to leave, he pauses for a moment like he wants to say something else. He glances down at yuuji, who's busy putting on his backpack, then back at you, 

"By the way..I was wondering...do you—" 

"PAPA, CAN WE GET ICE CREAM..PLEASE!!" Yuuji suddenly yells, catching you off-guard, and interrupting whatever is about to be said.  You laughed as Nanami let out an exaggerated sigh, ruffling his hair, "Sure"

You watched as Yuuji tugged his dad's hand, as you stood there, —wait what was he going to say to you? Nanami glances back at you, his lips twitching before sighing dramatically, "Guess we lost this round" he says, looking at Yuuji, "but maybe next time"

Your breath hitches before you can respond, and he just winks at you, leaving you speechless, breathless,—oh my gosh, you were just grinning like a idiot.

𝜗𝜚

The next morning, you were typing the back of your apron, as you tell yourself not to get your hopes up again, maybe last night was just a playful teasing, nothing serious—just friendly chit-chat.

But the way he hesitated before leaving, the way he said, 'maybe next time', the way he winked—it all replays in your head as you prep the daycare, wiping down the table with wipes.  You shook your head, trying to push away your thoughts—you were at work, just another day, nothing special.

With the sound of the door opening, you turned your head to see Nanami walking into the daycare.

He wasn't wearing his usual collar shirt with a tie, instead, he was wearing a light brown sweater, and his hair was slightly messier. Yuuji was bouncing excitedly beside him, but Nanami's eyes were still on you,

"Morning," he says, his voice was smoother than usual.

"Good morning" you reply, forcing yourself to sound normal, even though your heart was still racing, yuuji let go of his dad's hand, and started to run to the toy corner, leaving you too alone. Nanami exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, "So...about yesterday"

'yesterday?"

Your stomach flips, "What about it?"

He chuckles slightly, shifting on his feet. "I was actually trying to ask you something before someone—" he shoots a playful glare at Noah, who was completely entrance as he played with one of the toy dinosaurs in his hand.

You arch your brows, crossing your arms in mock suspicion, "What were you going to ask" you tilted your head, and he paused, as he thought for a moment, "You're really gonna make me say it, huh?"

You eyes widen for a moment, biting your lip, wait—

"I don't know what you mean"

He laughs softly, shaking his head, "I was going to ask...if you like to get dinner with me"

Dinner with Nanami, you felt your heart-stopping.

"Dinner?" your voice almost cracking, 

"Yeah" he says, clearing his throat,

"Like a date?" you asked, his lips curved into a dangerous smirk—the one that makes your knees feel weak, "Yeah, a date."

"Oh..wow, I—uh, wasn't expecting that" 

"Really" he arches a brow, "I expected that Yuuji isn't good at keeping my secrets" You glanced over at Yuuji, who was playing with the dinosaurs, and you shook your head with a grin. "I don't know...I think he's been pretty discreet" You smiled.

Nanami laughs, then exhales softly, "So..what would you say?"

"Yeah, of course" you smiled, feeling your face heating up. His shoulder relaxes, "Great—how about Friday?"

"Friday is perfect" 

"Good" he glances at yuuji then back at you, "I should go—before he accidentally sets something on fire"

"Good idea" you laugh.

"I'll text you"

"Y-yeah" you nodded, as you waved him 'goodbye'.

...

You were staring at your closet, as your clothes were scattered all over your bed, the door wide open, revealing an overwhelming selection, but everything was not—quite right. Too casual, too formal, too boring, too much.  You groaned in frustration, running a hand through your hair, as you pulled up another dress, holding it against yourself in the mirror,

it was an off-shoulder black dress, it was cute, simple, and flattering. 

You looked back at your phone, checking the time, thirty more minutes,

You felt your stomach doing nervous flips, as you became anxious about the date, you didn't know how Nanami had been having a crush on you for the whole time,— the man who somehow makes dropping his kids off at daycare look effortlessly attractive, making your ovaries practically screaming—is the one that asked you out on a date. 

You slip on the press, smoothing the fabric down, as you step into a pair of heels, looking in the mirror. The dress looked good on you, snagging the right parts of your curves. The sound of your phone notifications, you reached for your phone, he was almost here, and your heart was beating against your chest.

...

You walked out of your apartment, to hear the sound of a car pulling up outside making your heart stutter. You peek out the window, and sure enough, he was there. His car—sleek, understate,d and classy, just like him. He steps out, adjusting his tie, and scanning the street before looking at you,

"You look beautiful" he murmurs, a slow warmth spread through your chest as he compliments you. "Thank you" trying to keep your voice light despite your pulse practically racing now, 

You watched as he opened the door for you, the gesture smooth effortless, like second nature. You slide in, as he rounds the car to get himself inside, allowing you to have a moment to breathe, you look in the sideview mirror, giving yourself another look before he gets in.

You were going to have him for the whole night—and you were so ready.

.

The restaurant was elegant, but not too flashy—refined, intimate, the king of place that perfectly suit Nanami perfectly. The soft lighting casts a golden hue over the room, the quiet hum of jazz playing in your background.

It was clear that Nanami made a reservation for this restaurant, everything about him was precise, intentional, and well thought-out. He pulled out a chair before he took a seat at his own chair,

"Is everything alright?" he asked, like a gentleman

You nodded, smiling

"It's perfect"

The waiter hands you both menus, you don't glance at them though, not when Nanami was watching you like that—calm, observant, his gaze steady and searching.

"I have to admit" he began talking after a moment, setting his menu down, "This surprise you said yes"

You blinked for a moment, tilting your head slightly, "And why's that?"

Nanami exhales, rolling his sleeves up just a little, revealing his stronger foreman that you couldn't stop staring at, his finger tapping idly against the table. "You..." you pause, considering your words, 

"You're warm, bright. You make things lighter just by being there"

The compliment is unexpected, a raw in a way you don't often hear from him.

"And I assumed someone like you..would already have a boyfriend..or something"

Your lips parted, his comment catching you off-guard, by the weight of his words, "Well,  you murmur, "I suppose you're lucky I don't" you teased,

Nanami's lips twitched slightly—not quite into a smirk, but something else.

...

But you wouldn't have expected to be here, your dress pulled up as you were bent over for Nanami, feeling his cock being stuffed into you, as you moaned. You half-lidded eyes, as he roamed your body, his rough hands on your waist.

'pap!, pap!, pap!'

the sound of your wet cunt being plunged by Nanami's cock, echoed through the hotel room—it was too much, gosh.

Your clothes or whatever was left of your dress was on the floor, including his, the smell of sex lingering in the air, 

"Hngh.." you moaned, as his hips kept on rolling into you, feeling his cock hitting your cervix, making your eyes roll back. His hips slamming into your ass, with each powerful thrust. You felt yourself clenching down, tightening around his cock.

"Fuck" Nanami curses, 

He leaned down near your ears, his hand roughly grabbing onto your face, "You want me to fuck you harder, don't you" his voice was a low growl, "Want me to shove my cock into your tight—little pussy" you nodded frantic, you just wanted release. His cock just filled you up, feeling a bulge imprinted on your stomach, as he fucked you.

"Y-yes" you whimpered, your body trembling with need. You felt his grip pulling you near him, as you felt his washing board abs on your back.

You didn't know how many orgasms you were through, but your pussy was spent, battered, and bruised from his veiny cock.

 His rough hands cupped your breast, squeezing it gently, making you gasp. Your body arching towards him, as he rolled your sensitive buds between his fingers, your pupils were dilated,

You heard his low chuckle, as "You like that, do you?" his dirty talking making you more arousal, as you clenched down on him,  "S-shit" he groaned, 

His hips rutting against your ass, 

He leaned down, his mouth clamped down on your nipple, his teeth sinking into your tender flesh, and you mewled out. Your body bucking against his body, you felt your body trembling, you were so close, 

"You'll be such a good mommy for yuuji, huh," he said, his hot breath was against your ear, making you mewl, his cock was still fucking into your poor cunt. "Get you pregnant with my kid, and have you at home instead of the daycare"  he groans into your ear, 

You felt your orgasm building, the intensity growing with each passing moment. You moaned loudly, Nanami kept on thrusting into you. His hard cock hits your cervix again, sending shockwaves through your body.  He leaned into you for a rough kiss, as felt his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, moaning against him.

You withdrew, coming up for air, feeling his finger rubbing onto your clit, harshly rubbing on your nub, you felt light-headed from his touches, as you whimpered against his touch,

"Fuck—you feel s' good" he growled, his hips moving faster as he jackhammered you. His rough hands guided you up and down your cock,

"Ken m'so close—"

 you felt the coil in your stomach bursting, as you came down on his cock, clenching down tightly. Crying out in ecstasy, your body trembling from your orgasm, it was intense, feeling the pulse of pleasure radiating through your body.

You were riding out your high, as Nanami groaned in your ear, his cock pushing deep inside of you, filling you up. You felt his hot, gooey cum spurting into your womb, filling you with his hot seed. 

"Haaa..." your eyes practically rolling back as you felt cunt being stuffed, with his cum

"Your so good f' me..baby" he whispered in your ear, 

 so good...

[vacuously-true]

Okay yes that is often the complete explanation, and I'm sure that's part of the explanation in the case of allergies, but also allergy prevalence has actually changed over time.

Allergies are what happens when our immune systems flip out and think that something that's actually harmless is an invader. There are lots of theories that could explain why allergies are becoming more common and probably reality is a combination of these theories. One theory is that allergies are becoming more common because our world is much cleaner than it used to be, since we know how to do crap like wash our hands and treat diseases and disinfect our homes and public places and filter air. This means that our immune systems mature differently than they used to. We aren't exposed to as many diverse stimuli as children as we used to be so our immune systems don't get as much training, so they're worse at identifying the difference between a deadly pathogen worth freaking out about and like, a tasty protein-filled legume snack. Then they're more prone to freaking out about stuff that's actually harmless. One specific example of "coming into contact with less stimuli" is that there's lots of evidence that a child born via c-section is more likely to have allergies than a child that is born via the birth canal. Why? Traveling through the birth canal lets the child pick up a more diverse microbiome- more stimuli for the maturing immune system to learn from.

This DOESN'T mean we should like, stop cleaning and doing reasonable medical procedures in order to prevent allergies or something. Here we DO come back to a sort of twist on the original post: it's not entirely "kids with allergies used to just die" it's also "kids were less likely to have clean homes and public spaces and medical procedures so they didn't develop as many allergies but also sometimes the lack of cleanliness killed them." The world where we have hygiene practices that prevent far more suffering and death than could possibly be cancelled out by a small but very real increase in allergy rates IS the better timeline. But it's objectively false that allergy rates haven't been rising, and researching what makes them rise is important because if we can nail it down we can try to prevent it, without giving up life saving hygiene.

Here's a podcast episode about this that I found useful enough that even though I first heard it two years ago, I still remember it and thought of it while writing this post.

[dduane]

Hi DD! I'm about mid-way through the most complex writing project I've ever done (several stories with some red thread storylines progressing in the background, so a sort of interwoven structure). I have an outline of the major plot beats, but the problem is, I've gotten about 2/3 of the way through, and this is where I've started to have trouble bringing my many threads together. The further I go, the the harder keeping it all clear and elegant becomes. Any advice for working at this stage?

It may seem counterintuitive, but once I'd found myself in a situation like this, I would immediately start working backwards.

It's difficult to describe what I mean here except semi-graphically—sort of in terms of one of those strings-pinned-to-the-wall diagrams so familiar to a lot of us from the various evidence-wall memes.

If we're imagining your present as-yet-unconnected threads as more or less progressing left to right, I would "stick pins in them" at their current furthest range and then move straight out to the far right side of the diagram.

For each thread I would then get busy establishing a detailed "end state" for the work: meaning a sense of what you want each of those through-line of plot to look like when you're done in terms of characters, situations, etc. I'd make very sure that all the major through-lines were covered, and (in passing) take a long look at how they'll stand in relationship to one another when all the action's finished.

Then I would start working back along each line toward the center of the matrix—looking to see what the next-to-last thing was that needed to happen to produce the final result on a given through-line. And then the third-to-last. ...And so forth.

I would try to work through the whole set of through-lines for each given step or stage before progressing any further backwards—unless, of course, some leap of logic occurs that makes an obvious connection between two different through-lines, or an earlier stage in the same TL that hadn't been obvious before.

(Is this making sense? God, I hope so.)

My experience with this kind of situation in the past is that it doesn't take too long before, on one or two of the lines you're constructing backwards, you'll hit something fairly major that somehow hadn't come up for consideration previously, or had simply slipped or fallen off the structural "radar" because so much other stuff had been going on around it. That event or piece of data, once perceived, will very often either immediately connect itself back to one or more of the "pinned" through-lines, or promote one of the other incomplete ones into growing connections to other adjacent lines of plot material. It's a little like watching neural tissue developing alternate pathways for itself after an injury.

...Anyway, give this approach a shot and see how it works for you. There are times when simply the act of reversing direction on the plot build will shake something loose in the business surrounding the building-it-forward part. It's worth a try to see what happens.

Hope this helps!

[gojougf]

convergence theory — teaser

pairing ⸺ tutor nerdjo! x student! reader

summary ⸺ desperate to pass your maths subject required for you to pass your psych major, you reluctantly accept satoru gojo's help after a botched tutoring request. what starts as a mutually beneficial arrangement—he needs your uncle's influence for an event, and you need help with calculus—quickly turns into something more complicated.

teaser word count ⸺ 1.5k

expected word count ⸺ 15-20k (the banter alone has taken up about 8-9k so...)

release date ⸺ not sure yet, hopefully in the next few days or by the end of next week bc i wanna finish it before uni starts

warnings ⸺ smut, p in v sex, virgin!gojo (he acts like a total arrogant, cocky and conceited asshole in this but he's actually a virgin HSHSHGS), oral (both m and f receiving), you basically give him his first blowjob and teach him how 2 be a munch :3, college AU (except i'm australian so my perception of college in american dominated college au's in fanfic is quite limited), nerd!gojo, gojo is like really fucking annoying, switch gojo!, will probably continue to update the warnings the more i write but it'll be so good... trust...

“This is simply not enough, (name). If you want to pass, you need at least 50 percent. I’ll let you retake the required modules and assessments, but I strongly suggest hiring a tutor.”

Your professor sighs, rubbing his temple as you grimace in displeasure.

College math.

The bane of your existence.

Why you needed to pass a math module just to earn extra credit for your psychology major was beyond ridiculous. You had never been particularly good at math, always gravitating toward English or science-related subjects. Nothing too sciency, though. Psychology made sense—it was theory-based, more about understanding people than crunching numbers. It wasn’t the kind of science that required you to calculate how many moles of carbon were left after a reaction or figure out what would happen if a car crashed into a wall at 60 km/h. 

“I can personally recommend last year’s top student—full marks in every assessment and module. He might be available, assuming he doesn’t already have a full roster of students. If you can wait a little longer, he’ll be here soon to pick up last week’s student projects. He’s my TA this semester.”

Your professor’s voice takes on a rare note of approval as he talks about this so-called star student—someone impressive enough to earn the admiration of a man who had docked half your marks over the method rather than the answer.

You nod stiffly, setting your bag down beside you before sinking into the chair across from his desk. You could wait—had to wait, if you wanted even the slightest chance of scraping a pass in this godforsaken breadth subject. The measly 40% scrawled across your paper seemed to mock you, glaring up at you as if it, too, had given up on your ability to solve for x.

Tuning out the professor’s ongoing praise of this so-called star student, you try to focus on anything else. Honestly, how much more could he go on about this guy? It was getting exhausting. You weren’t here to listen to a TED Talk about some math genius—you were here because your GPA was hanging by a thread, and apparently, this person was your last hope of saving it.

Now, by no means were you dumb. Far from it. Some people just weren’t built for numbers, and unfortunately, you happened to be one of them. But when it came to the subjects you were good at? You thrived—aced every exam, topped your classes, excelled in ways that made professors take notice. Just… not in math. Never in math.

And yet, here you were. Waiting.

At least your waiting was cut short when he walked in.

White hair gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the professor’s office, strands falling effortlessly over cerulean eyes framed by almost impossibly pale lashes. He was tall—really tall—with an easy, unshaken confidence that made it clear he was fully aware of the attention his presence commanded. A navy-blue sweater hung loosely over his broad frame, the soft fabric contrasting against the sharp tailoring of his crisp black slacks. And—were those dress shoes?

Yeah. Okay. You could admit it—this guy was hot. But it wasn’t just his face (which, to be fair, looked like it belonged on a magazine cover). It was the way he carried himself, the unbothered ease in his posture, the quiet yet unmistakable I-know-I’m-better-than-you energy that radiated off of him.

And suddenly, you understood why your professor held him in such high regard. He didn’t just look like the type of person who aced every exam—he looked like the president of some elite quantum mechanics club, the kind of person who thrived on things like advanced calculus and theoretical physics for fun.

Great. Just great.

“(Name), this is Satoru Gojo. Satoru, this is (Name) (Last name).. She’s struggling with the content this semester and needs extra help if she wants to pass alongside her major. I was just telling her how brilliant you are and hoping you might have the time to tutor her—of course, only if your schedule isn’t already full.”

You try not to visibly flinch at the way your professor phrases it, as if you’re some hopeless case in dire need of salvation from this so-called prodigy. Seriously? He could’ve at least sugarcoated it a little in front of Satoru.

But as your professor speaks, his voice takes on a warmth that’s… weirdly affectionate. And when you glance over, you’re met with the absolute worst thing you could have imagined—your professor, practically beaming at Satoru, eyes practically glittering with admiration.

What the hell is this? Why does he look at him like that? Is this normal?

You barely manage to mask the horrified expression on your face, but it doesn’t matter—because Gojo sees it. And worse, he revels in it. His smirk stretches just a little wider, his cerulean eyes twinkling with amusement as he watches your silent suffering.

You think you’re gonna implode.

And then, with an exaggeratedly pitiful look, he turns back to the professor. “Sir, you know I’d love to help,” he says, voice practically dripping with faux sincerity. “But I’ve recently been asked to assist the research team for the theoretical physics paper. It’s a big opportunity—could really help with my master’s application—so I’m going to have to politely decline.”

Ah. So your hunch about him being some physics nerd was right.

He casts what might’ve been intended as a respectful bow in your direction, though it comes off more like a lazy spasm. You don’t even think he realizes how condescending it looks.

Yeah. He definitely doesn’t give a fuck.

“Oh. Well, (Name), it looks like you’re going to have to figure things out on your own,” your professor sighs, rubbing his temple. “Satoru was the best option—probably the only person who could actually help you pass. But maybe check out some tutors outside of campus? I’m sure there are professionals willing to help.”

Oh hell no.

Your heart plummets. Does he hear himself? Like it’s just that easy to hire a tutor? You’re a broke college student, barely surviving on instant noodles and coffee, and now you’re supposed to drop a fortune on private tutoring? Absolutely not.

Campus tutors were your only shot—they charged significantly less since the experience boosted their academic records, helped them secure internships, and all that nonsense. You were counting on that.

And now?

Your only remaining option was the physics nerd with the condescending smirk and ridiculous dress shoes.

You sigh internally, steeling yourself. If this guy is your last resort, then fine. You’ll grovel if you have to. Because there’s no way in hell you’re letting this godforsaken subject be the reason you don’t graduate.

“Please. Is there… um, any way you can fit me into your schedule?” You finally break the silence, your voice betraying a hint of pleading that makes you cringe internally. You hate that you’re begging. You can already hear your female ancestors rolling in their graves, disappointed that their descendant is down on her knees—metaphorically—asking a man to help her pass a stupid class.

You try not to let the thought sting too much, but it’s hard to ignore the gap in experience and expectations that separates you from him.

Curse this subject. Curse these grades. Curse my professor. Curse Satoru Gojo.

Satoru, meanwhile, looks mildly entertained by your discomfort. You stand, your bag hanging across your shoulder, trying your best to meet his eyes with a mixture of irritation and a clear, no-nonsense look that says, I see right through you.

But can you really blame him? He’s Satoru Gojo—head of the Physics Society, on the verge of completing his master’s, practically guaranteed a spot in the university’s elite PhD program thanks to his perfect grades and the top-tier references from his research. Of course he doesn’t have time for a tutor request from a girl who, from his perspective, probably couldn’t even define a limit, let alone solve one. Yeah, no.

“Sorry, no can do! As I said, I’m extremely busy right now—” Satoru starts, his tone dripping with smugness, but you cut him off before he can finish, not even caring that your professor is witnessing this desperate spectacle unfold.

“Please. I don’t think you understand—I need to pass this unit to fulfill the requirements for my major. Please consider my request…” You bow slightly in his direction, one hand fiddling with the hem of your dress, a trickle of sweat rolling down the back of your neck.

For a moment, he just stares. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he leans back, crossing his arms. “Fine. I’ll see if I can make time. But you’ll have to wait at least a week for my response—I’m extremely busy.”

Your eye twitches. What a dick. But this is your last shot, so you grit your teeth and let it slide.

“I appreciate it,” you say stiffly. “Well—I'll get going now.” You give a polite nod to both Satoru and your professor, already itching to leave.As you turn to go, you briefly catch his gaze raking over your form. It’s quick—so quick you might’ve imagined it—but something about the way his eyes linger sends a small, unfamiliar twinge through your body. You shake it off, more focused on willing this pretentious motherfucker to actually make space in his schedule for you.

God, you really fucking hate math.

a/n: i hope you guys liked the teaser!!!! this fic is lowkey eating my ass, i literally had to pull out my old battered copy of my advanced math textbook from highschool to write about some of the calculus concepts satoru explains, which was so funny to me because i never got higher than a 40 percent on an assessment during hs and i dropped math halfway through my final year, but here we are!

if you'd like to be tagged in the full fic once it comes out, you can comment down below, since i think my ask box doesn't work.. (*≧ω≦*)

[disease-danger-darkness-silence]

This is gentle parenting. The amazing concept that your child is a human being.

(Permissive parenting is something else that doesn't work very well.)

For the most part, my parents tried to do gentle parenting. They didn't know of it as a parenting technique (it was the 80s, I'm not sure it had that name yet) and they weren't even trying for a specific technique.

My dad had this specific line he said once that stuck with me:

"We spend all of this time telling kids that hitting is bad and they shouldn't do it, and then we hit them for punishment? Seems counterproductive."

I did get spanked a few times, but it was mostly, in retrospect, out of fear for what I'd just done. I'd either endangered myself or someone else and scared the shit out of them so I got a tiny swat on the butt. Happened less than five times my entire childhood. They always apologized afterward, explaining that they'd been scared and that wasn't the right way to be scared.

Once it was because I seriously hurt someone and my dad, crying, told me that I needed to understand the pain I'd just put that person through. He was really upset, both that I'd hurt someone and that he needed to make me understand the hurt I'd inflicted. He cried the whole time. It was one of like four times I ever saw my father cry, my entire life. I was more upset at how sad he was than over the spanking.

Thing is, when you treat your child like a human being, they love you and you love them. They know that. Making you sad or upset or disappointed genuinely upsets them and makes them want to do better. Think about how you react when your favorite teacher is disappointed in you. How do you feel?

Now imagine if your favorite teacher and your parent both had the same place in your heart. You'd want to do them proud, wouldn't you?

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[vvkyomi]

what the blue lock boys' good luck charm is | itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser

itoshi sae

i can imagine you getting him some kind of bracelet that he wears 24/7. he won't do anything like kiss it before a game because he thinks it's embarrassing. he doesn't think he needs luck—he's got talent, after all—but he still won't take it off. when you gifted him the bracelet, he probably didn't look all that impressed with it. but when you told him “i'll return it if you don't like it” he just scoffed and never even answered you. trust me, that's sae's version of the no, it's mine forever now. and he literally never takes it off. like. he wears it to his games, in the shower, at interviews. he gives no fucks.

he never talks about it though. he doesn't even like when you bring it up. he's just embarrassed ,, he's just a silly little guy.

shidou ryusei

i'm not going to be nsfw here but trust me, i could be. he's my favourite little freak. <3 but alas ,

his good luck charm is a kiss from you. i'm not talking about a little brush of your lips, no. i'm talking about a full on kiss, tongue and everything, before every single one of his games. if you're willing, he'll make a show out of it too. he'll make out with you right in the stadium after threatening the coach to let you sit on the bench with the team as opposed to somewhere in the audience.

he'll come out of the locker room, run up to you and just pull you into a kiss. if he could, he'd do it after every single one of his goals too. (he's probably tried this and figured out pretty quickly that it doesn't work all that well in the middle of a game)

nagi seishiro

nagi is a low effort type of guy. he likes easy things and he doesn't want to over complicate literally anything. so for him, i imagine it'd be something simple and sweet: a hug. before one of his games, you'll give him a tight hug & kiss on the cheek to seal the deal.

“do your best, sei!” you'll say and he'll complain and whine that it's a hassle, but at the end of the day, he will try to do his best for you. and so far, it's worked pretty well.

sometimes though, he won't want to leave your embrace. he'll just keep holding onto you until you have to literally pull him off because he needs to get to the locker room to get changed for the game. bribe him with cuddles and a gaming session if he does well and he'll let go—but not without complaining and whining.

michael kaiser

he has a lot of tattoos. so before an important game, you'll get a sharpie and add a little drawing to them. other people rarely see it since he's got to keep his arms covered most of the time during games anyway, but he knows it's there and it makes him want to be even better—want to impress you even more.

the night before a game, you'll add a cute little sketch of a cat to his arm with a little heart and he literally will not shower until after the game, just to make sure it stays there. i don't think it's so much about luck for him, i think it's just a reminder that you're watching him and he needs to be the best on the field.