#wlw headcanon
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𐙚 red dead redemption - masterlist
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headcanons
sadie adler general hc’s [ nsfw ]
#lesbians#wlw#red dead redemption#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption two#red dead redemption community#red dead redemption fandom#red dead redemption x reader#sadie adler#sadie adler x fem#sadie adler x reader#sadie adler x fem!reader#sadie adler x female reader#lesbians headcanons#lesbian headcanon#sadie adler is my wife#sadie needs more recognition omg#wlw love#wlw ns/fw#rdr#rdr2 fandom#rdr2#rdr2 community#sadie rdr2#sadie adler rdr2#wlw headcanons#wlw headcanon#wlw post#wlw blog#lesbian
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𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇
imagine being vi’s bottom bitch while she’s locked up
She’s placed a non-verbal claim on you, everyone in stillwater knows that one is hers. They’ll know by the way she slaps your ass when you pass her or the way she drops anyone who tries to hit on you. You’ll get anything you want from anybody, just let her know. More bread? Bless the poor soul she just grilled for it, it's never a pretty sight. But that's neither here nor there when she's presenting it to you with a smirk you would almost call cute. "You gonna pay me back for this, hm?
It'll be lights out by the time you get to, the rest of the inmates retiring for the night in silence. But the quality of their sleep doesn't matter when she’s got her own pretty little cellmate on her knees, shoving your face in between her legs to rut against your mouth, "Yeah, make it up to me, pretty.."
#goonhrs#vi#vi arcane#vi x reader#arcane vi#arcane x reader#arcane headcanon#arcane s2#arcane season 2#arcane smut#vi smut#wlw#lesbian#sapphic
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fwb with vi but she's super possessive.. 18+ content. angry, rough sex<3
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Imagining how Vi would fuck you if she were all angry and possessive. Watching you flirt with some random asshole who supplies community dick when you could be having her. Whatever, just wait till you get home. She would totally be waiting on the edge of your bed, jaw tense with the jealous feelings swirling around in her mind.
She'd have you laid in your own bed, on your stomach. Your cheek would be pressed into the bed, occasionally lifted when her hand gets a nice, rough grip on your hair and forces you to look back at the mess. You can't even see it, but your pussy is dripping, ass in the air as she stuffs you full of her fingers. You tremble, even let out soft, filthy cries into the bed. It's no use.
"V-Vi!! Fuck, I can't-" You feel one of her hands land on your ass cheek, though you can't tell which. The other hand is deep inside you, forcing pathetic squeals past your lips.
"Yes, you can. You're gonna take it, aren't you?" She huffs out, breathless from fucking you senseless.
You cry into the sheets, so turned on and so overwhelmed at the same time. Her fingers don't cease, three digits thrusting as if she'd die without this.
"Pussy's dripping all over these pretty sheets of yours." She laughs at the way you clench upon her words. "Tell me. Do you deserve to cum for me?" She asks, making sure you answer by pulling your hair. You gasp out weakly, feeling the tell-tale orgasm bubbling up in your pussy, walls fluttering around her touch.
"Please. I'll be good again, I promise." You plead, letting Vi take the sight of you in. Drool is trailing down your lips, and your cheeks are tear-stained.
Vi takes on a more gentle pace, but it's somehow even more intense. She seems to hit the sweet, vulnerable spot inside of you that is hidden beneath gummy walls. "Color?"
You swallow, trying to compose a proper thought while she fucks you. It proves to be almost impossible. "Green." You finally mumble out.
And then, the switch is flipped again. Vi goes back to the roughness, a hand groping and squeezing your ass like it belongs to her. You keep screaming and begging for more, telling her you're about to cum. You can't take it, feeling the knot in your lower abdomen nearly snap into halves. Suddenly, she stops.
You whimper at the loss of her fingers as they withdraw, quickly sitting up and looking back at her. She doesn't even lick her fingers clean, looking at you as if daring for you to argue. Instead, you pout a little and flop back onto the bed, laying down on your side. Even as your body is left unfulfilled and the soreness creeps into your legs, there is some odd sense of satisfaction. You like when she denies you, likes when she fucks you to your breaking point and doesn't actually let you shatter. Though, it'd be nice if she did.
"Maybe if you quit messing around, I'll let you cum next time." Vi lightly scolds, leaning in to kiss the top of your head before taking you into her arms. You smile despite the frustration. Maybe next time you get her riled up, she'll make you cum as payback. The thought is more of a comfort than a turn-on, though. You feel fine falling asleep in her arms, letting Vi have her good girl for now.
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#violet arcane#vi x reader#vi smut#vi#vi x you#vi headcanons#vi arcane#arcane smut#arcane#lesbian#wlw#wlw smut#lesbian sex#vi x fem reader
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hockey!vi and basketball!caitlyn decide it's time to stop fighting over you. they'll just have to share!
headcanons, arguing, smut/slutty material (18+ mdni), dom!cait & vi, gp!vi, cheerleader!reader (hardly mentioned), vi & cait r horny and reader's hard-to-get-but-also-horny. wc. 2k
vi's a big, bulky, 'gentleman' of a player. girls come and go from her poster-covered dorm room, and it's fine, because she has bigger things to worry about, until she meets you. the post-game crowd is a chaotic swarm of students, and still, she spots you with ease. you're with a friend that she somewhat recognizes, but the athlete swears on her life she's never seen you. she would've remembered a pretty ass face like that. the two of you are making conversation with one of her teammates, and almost immediately the pinkette's jogging up to the cluster of you and slinging an arm over the other player.
she's decorated with a big fat grin like always, cooing a sexy "hey there," that has her teammate rolling her eyes into the back of her head, but not the way vi intended. you're introduced, a sweet smile gracing your lips that vi wants buried between the flesh of her thighs, lips that she wants gasping for life as she ravishes you, lips that she swears just made her cock twitch.
"you gonna be looking for me at the after party?" she cocks her head in fake innocence. what an asshole. "maybe if you score some more next time," you dismiss her with a tucked away grin, politely biding her teammate and spinning off out of the dumbfounded butch's sight. her teammate sharply inhales, patting the girl who looks like she's just seen a ghost. "tough luck, vi," the athlete starts, "wouldn't have worked anyway, i heard she's messing with kiramman."
caitlyn won the race to your attention. it's one of the many things she adores holding over vi's head when they have their daily bicker-fests over anything and everything related to you. she’d always believed in finders keepers.
the bustling, alcohol scented, dim atmosphere encasing her is completely forgotten as her gaze lands on you, a red solo cup in hand as you make conversation with who she assumes to be your teammates. she squares her shoulders, standing a little taller as her fellow athletes notice the look she's giving you. a predator ready to pounce. little whistles of encouragement fall from their lips as she strides on her mission to you.
the navy haired beauty knows she's hot, knows damn well anyone would slide their way under her as soon as the words of approval coat her tongue, and knows that you'll be one of her most– no, the most rewarding catch she's had. except, her trap seemed to falter.
"you were great today," she flashes a soft smile, attempting to make sure the way she checks you out is subtle, less cocky and more in awe. "watched when i could, i see why they put you in front." "oh yeah?" you hum out, sipping from your cup. it's basic, not giving much for caitlyn to work with, but the glint in your eyes is giving the athlete all too much hope. "yeah," she sounds a little breathless. her eyelids drop and soften to mimick the arousal she's feeling from just eyeing your fuckable face. "must be real flexible to do all that. think you could show me some more?" her prim and enchanting accent is completely contradicting the nasty insinuations falling from her mouth. that has you gently shaking your head and scoffing– albeit, with a smile, caitlyn notes. "you're funny, cait." and that's all you leave her with. that, and the image of you gently swaying your hips while walking off. the image that she'll be replaying in her head as she tends to her needs later that night. it makes sense to her a few days later during practice. when she and her teammates are lazily walking off of the court, one of them explains your oh so suspicious behavior. "heard she's interested in vi. sorry hotshot, looks like you've met your match."
from then on, the two are completely at each other's throats. it starts off small when they bump into each other at the campus coffee shop. they're patiently waiting for their drinks. caitlyn's arms are crossed as always with her hair in a messy pony, and vi's hands keep refuge in her pockets while her shoulders slightly slouch in a relaxed manner. they're completely ignoring the other's presence, until vi physically has to speak up.
"so... ___" she says your name like a child praying to their goddess. caitlyn hums in response. "i hate to be the one to tell you, but she's completely out of your league." "well i don't know what she'd see in a narcissistic mongoose like you," vi quips. cait scoffs. "and i'm not sure why she'd ever give someone as run through as you the time of day... wait, mongoose?"
soon, it's not one that's pursuing you at a time, it's both. at parties, after games, walking to class, even in the library, the two girls are drawn to you like moths to light. and sure, they're still very interested in fucking you senseless if you let them. and sure, they don't know you all too well yet, but something about you is so captivating. whether you'll give them the time of day or not, they crave being in your presence. (the rivalry is making things a little more fun than expected, too.)
you're interested, extremely interested. but these girls are used to getting everything they want in the blink of an eye. you know your worth, so if they want to take you, and not just your ability to walk, they're going to have to work for it. in record time, the university of piltover's finest were wrapped around your dainty finger. so, slowly, you let them into your life.
at first, it's smaller things. in the morning, caitlyn worms her way into the plush seat next to you at your library table. she sets down your coffee order to a T, saying she "had some extra time" (which isn't a lie, she woke up an hour earlier than she already does to make sure her timing was perfect), and she "didn't know what you'd like", so she 'guessed' (that part was a lie, because she fell asleep thirty minutes later than usual stalking your instagram highlights and zooming into the label of your most recent drink). in conclusion, the star player was losing sleep over you, and she didn't know how to feel about that.
then, like switching shifts, vi swoops into the library and whisks you away, but not before making a remark that has the navy-haired girl's brows furrowing.
"i'll take it from here, cupcake. angel and i have a date." the pinkette lifts your backpack from the ground and slings it over her shoulder before you can utter a word. "you're walking me to class, violet. 'ts not a date..." you dismiss the claim, looking caitlyn in the eyes as you bring the coffee to your lips and take a swig. "..yet," you induce some hope and fear into the respective girls. as you coo your mind-twirling sing-song "bye cait," and walk away, vi can't help but snake a hand around your waist before throwing a terribly taunting wink to the bluenette over her shoulder.
eventually, after more interrupted touches and argument after argument, the girls attempt to seduce you on their own turf. after a particularly hard but victorious game, cait jogs up to you. the flyaways of her ponytail are the sexiest amount of messy and the sweat dripping down the side of her neck and rounding towards her adams apple has you gulping. but of course, you hide it. you admit, she's impressed you, and the seemingly suave girl fights the beaming smile she feels sneaking its way onto her face. instead, she thanks you for cheering for her and gently grazes her hand over the hem of your blue and white skirt.
"is this my reward for playing so well?" she grins. "this is my uniform, hotshot."
after vi's hockey game that she insisted you come to, she sneaks up on you after exiting the locker room, capturing your frame from behind with sculpted arms. the two of you stiffle a few laughs before she turns you around, pulling your torso closer to hers.
"how'd I do?" she asks, the neediness of approval hidden somewhere in her tone.
"i guess you were good," you joke, making vi gently pinch at your side. "yeah?" she teases, "how good?" "not good enough, at least I score." caitlyn buts in from 'out of nowhere!' (vi claims), momentarily stunning whatever tension you and the pinkette were building. "i scored three times," the powder-blue eyed girl slightly pouts, sending you into a fit of laughter.
it's vi who steals a kiss from you first. you finally give in after realizing maybe she wants something a little more than sex. it's hungry, slight teeth, lots of tongue, and sloppy hums of pleasure. wandering hands travel to the back of your head, through your hair, down to the curve of your waist, everywhere she can claim you.
caitlyn, when she finds out a day later, is pissed. so when she finally gets her hands on you, she's rougher than she planned on being when she ran this scenario through her head hundreds of times before. she's pushing you against a wall, knee slotted between your legs, and a lanky hand trails up to grip your chin. it's rough, hypnotizing, and you have to stop her before she makes an absolute mess of you.
it's no surprise when the girls text you to meet up a few days later. what is a surprise is the fact that they're together. they send you a selfie from vi's phone in your shared group chat. vi looks delicious in her stupid backwards baseball cap and caitlyn's glasses only enhance that scarily sexy cold look she owns. the picture's lazy, a lower angle of the two looking at the camera with soft grins, but it has your heartbeat racing, and something else pulsing their names.
ice queen: angel come 2 cait's ice queen: we miss you <3 angel: and if I don't? hotshot: you'll regret it. angel: is that a threat? hotshot: jesus, get over here.
caitlyn and vi take turns using you for the rest of the night. they wait for you to make the first move, of course, they have manners. once you're all hot and bothered you hear the clank of their belts coming undone and flashes of clothes being stripped off fill your vision.
cait only spends so long teasing your swollen clit before she's two fingers and three knuckles deep inside of you, teasing your clouded brain about adding a third. the wet sounds your body's making are getting vi the hardest she's been in her life, and she swears she could cum just from the way your glossy eyes look up at her while cait ravishes you. "look at that- i'll be the one to make her cum first." cait taunts, and as soon as you've reached your high the pinkette's stripping you away from her and flipping you onto your stomach.
vi's gentler than caitlyn at first, but her passion and desires enchant her mind and soon she's stuffing your needy hole with her length, face down ass up, while pushing your head into the pillow that captures your lovely noises.
it's not long before caitlyn's sitting in front of you with her legs spread wide, guiding your tongue right where it belongs.
you all sleep in the same bed that night. you in the middle, of course, and your girls clinging to you lovingly. the three of you talk about everything and nothing at the same time, and the silly conversations lull you into a deep sleep.
some day soon, you'll have to talk about whatever this is. for right now, vi and caitlyn relish in the fact that they have you. brain, heart, body and all.
sharing isn't all that bad.
silknspice
#vi x reader#caitlyn x reader#vi fanfic#arcane#arcane fanfic#arcane season 2#caitlyn kiramman#caitlyn arcane#caitvi x reader#vi arcane#caitlyn fanfic#sapphic#wlw#vi imagines#arcane headcanon
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tattoo artist!vi who was surprised to see you walk into her parlour for the first time. she had been eyeing you since you opened your florist across the street a few days ago. how could she not? you were just so pretty in your little floral sundress, always sending her a small smile whenever you caught her eye through the tinted windows of her shop.
vi greeted you with a smirk, letting her eyes brazenly trail down the length of your body as you made your way over to the counter. she half expected you to be shy away from her gaze, to act a little flustered. but boy, she was not prepared to see you looking straight back at her with a teasing glint in your eyes.
“hey,” you smiled.
gosh. if she thought you were pretty from afar, you were absolutely stunning up close.
vi chuckled under her breath, leaning forward to press her palms against the counter. you mirrored her movement, resting your forearms on top of the dark wood, the sweet smell of your perfume filling her lungs.
“how can i help you, doll?”
vi found her usual confident tone oddly strained. was she nervous? heavens, no. of course she wasn’t. the heat blooming on her face was most definitely because of the hot weather outside, and had nothing to do with the way you were staring at her through fluttering lashes.
“i was just wondering if you had any free slots today.”
you tilted your head in faux innocence, and vi almost scoffed out loud. she knows that you know she doesn’t accept walk-ins — it’s written in big, bold letters on the sign plastered just outside her shop. still, vi didn’t hesitate with her response.
“i’m open any time for you, cupcake.”
two can play the game.
tattoo artist!vi who finally led you to the inside of the parlour, sitting you down on a smooth leather chair. she was wearing a sleeveless hoodie, giving you a clear view of the intricate tattoos that painted the back of her arms. you silently thanked her for her choice of clothing, appreciating the sight of her muscles flexing when she sanitised the workspace and laid out her tools.
“so, where do you want this, pretty girl?”
you snapped out of your thoughts, clearing your throat to still your nerves. your fingers fumbled with the hem of your dress, before slowly pulling it upwards. vi sucked in a sharp breath, the intensity of her gaze making your heart thud heavily against your chest.
“here.” you said, shaking a little as you pointed at the bare skin just below your hip bone.
you didn’t miss the way her pupils dilated at the sight of your exposed thigh, despite your nervousness, her reaction fuelled your ego. your fingertips danced along the edge of your lace underwear, hitching it up just an extra inch so she could have full view and access to the exposed skin.
“right… there?”
vi’s voice was low as she pressed a medical wipe to disinfect the area with a few swipes of her hand. her wrist felt stiffer than usual, and she was trying to suppress the urge to rip off her gloves, to feel your soft skin under hers.
“y-yeah.” you stuttered under the heat of her touch.
vi laid down the stencil, the way her hand lingered for a moment longer sent a shiver down your spine. “you nervous, princess?”
“a little.” you swallowed thickly, not wanting to admit that her presence itself was the major contributing factor, and not the idea of needles pricking at your skin. vi placed her gloved hand onto your thigh, giving it a squeeze. the action did little in calming your racing heart.
“let me know if you need a breather, yeah?”
tattoo artist!vi who tried her best to focus on inking the design onto your delicate skin, and to not think about just how exposed you were in front of her, on top of all the other things she wished she could be doing for you instead.
she thought she was going to lose her mind when you let out a quiet whimper when her needle pierced through a particularly sensitive part of your skin. the way you clenched your fists, trying to suppress the soft sounds from bubbling up your throat — it only proved to rile her up even more.
“you’re doing so good, doll.” vi murmured.
the rough praise made your face heat up. for once, you were grateful that her head was dipped down in focus, so she couldn’t see your dreadful attempt at keeping a straight face.
tattoo artist!vi who was relieved to finally finish up your small, fine line tattoo. it was one of the quickest tattoos she has ever made, but the entire process was nothing short of pure torture.
“does it hurt?” she asked, her voice surprisingly soft.
you bit your lip, shaking your head. “no.” your obvious lie making a genuine laugh slip through her lips.
“aw, couldn’t handle a little tattoo, princess?” vi cooed, her gloved hand resting on your inner thigh. your muscles tensed under her lingering touch, something which didn’t go unnoticed by the pink haired woman.
“fine… it hurt a little, okay?” you admitted, turning away at the satisfied twitch of vi’s lips.
vi laughed, her hand brushing against your jaw, gently turning your face back towards her. she down looked at you smugly, leaning across the armrest of your chair. “lucky for you, i know a few things that can make you feel better.” she drawled out, the warmth of her breath fanning over your cheek.
“what’d you say, doll?”
# misu.writes ✧#arcane#arcane x reader#vi x reader#arcane fluff#arcane vi#arcane imagines#arcane headcanon#vi arcane#vi fluff#arcane fanfic#vi x you#vi arcane x reader#arcane x female reader#tattoo artist vi#wlw fanfic
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could u perhaps do casual dominance hcs w sevika..? :3
♱ casual dominance w/ gf!sevika headcanons!! ♱
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i've been mf WAITING for this one!! it's time to get down to the biz folks... 🙈😏🤫
cw: sfw & kinda nsfw towards the end!, possessiveness, manhandling, dumbification??, curse words, touching, suggestive themes!
♱ sevika is, without a doubt, the dominant one in the relationship. that's not to say a woman can't be versatile! it's just what she prefers. the dynamic between you two is not only what makes things work well in your relationship, it makes you perfect for each other.
♱ she doesn't mind a few swear words from you here and there, but she is on it if you're beginning to pick up the habit of using them. she doesn't like her sweet girl using such filthy language! unless she's fucking it out of you. a simple "fuck! god damn it!" when you drop something has her going, "hey, watch your mouth." or "language, baby. where's my sweet girl at?"
♱ i mentioned this in another post, but she's the driver! that hand would be on your thigh, squeezing as the other rests on the steering wheel—just to let you know she's still thinking of you as you two quietly listen to music. you enjoy each other's company that way.
♱ sevika does not tolerate attitude from you. whew, girl! you'd be in for a treat if you rolled your eyes at her or gave her lip because you happened to be in one of your moods. she isn't afraid to scold you. she absolutely grabs your chin to force you to look her in the eye, "who do you think you're talking to, huh?" + "nuh-uh, baby. no."
♱ she literally picks you up by your waist to move you wherever she wants you to go (AHHH). + (think when loris was bringing vi back to her apartment when she was drunk and emo but in a hot wlw way).
♱ sevika LOVES to rub the front of your thighs when you sit on her lap, whether that be when she's gambling or at home. she doesn't even let you try and get up, you're stuck there for hours!
♱ sevika enjoys turning your brain to mush; she loves watching your eyes gloss over as she talks down to you and tells you what to do. she knows you'd do anything to be her good girl.
"hey, go hand me my cards, baby." she demands gently as you two get up from the couch, ready to venture to the last drop. she pats your ass softly before you nod and briskly rush over to where her cards rest on the kitchen table. when you return, you drop the cards into her large mech hand. your eyes peer deep into hers for confirmation that you did good. she leans in for a kiss, a kiss that deepens and lasts. as you kiss passionately, her human hand snakes up to your neck and presses down firmly before pulling away, "that's a good girl." + "mm thank you, baby. what would i do without my woman?" she smirks against your open mouth.
♱ if anyone is staring at you in public/trying to flirt with you, TRUST she's pulling you in for the sexiest, NASTIEST kiss and sticking her tongue down your throat (IN FRONT OF THEM). she makes out with you as she glares into their eyes from across the room! her eyes would be screaming, "she's mine, and if you ever look at her again, you're dead."
(i would LIKE to say she orders for both of you at a restaurant, but you'd definitely be the one going all, "yes! thank you! and she'll have the chicken salad with toasted croutons!" as she sticks her face into the menu LMAOFOOO.)
♱ for some reason, sevika does not let you pay. ever! she loves being able to take care of you—to provide for you.
"i got it this time, gorgeous." you huff and turn towards her, "you pay every time, vika!" you exclaim as she pulls you in closer to whisper into your ear, "let me take care of you, hmm?" + "just wanna give my girl the world. can i do that for you?"
♱ oh! and if you try to run when she's fucking you from behind, she IS placing her hand at the small of your back to keep you still so you can take everything she gives you! she goes, “mhm, take it. don’t run.” + “you need this, slut.” that's all!
needless to say, she loves you real bad!! 🫣
#arcane#arcane smut#arcane x reader#arcane imagine#arcane thoughts#arcane season 2#sevika imagine#sevika x y/n#sevika headcanon#sevika arcane#sevika x reader#sevika x you#wlw#wlw post#wlw blog#wlw community#wlw concepts#wlw ns/fw#wlw nstf#wlw smut#wlw yearning#sapphic#jinxvex
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30 for 30 (i.) — vi (league of legends) !
⟢ synopsis. you swear you would be in peace if it wasn’t for her. but this kept you on your toes, you guessed. just the way you liked it. besides, everyone knew that falling in love with your best friend’s older sister only led to trouble.
⟢ contains. afab!reader, arcane!vi, feminine characteristics, angst, lesbians, lots and lots of longing, the reader is lowkey insane i cannot lie, vi is kinda toxic but we love her anyway, modern!au, nsfw, fingering, oral, really bad ending sorry, SMUT 18+.
⟢ word count. 17k+
⟢ part two: 30 for 30 (ii.)
⟢ authors note. i have been working on this for the last 6 weeks and i have lived so many lives through this fic. christmas passed, then new years, and then my abuelo died a few days ago. no one talk to me for a while, please.
You were totally, utterly smitten.
Every curve, cave, and mark of your heart was tainted, etched with her name in invisible ink only you could read. It felt like liquid gold ran through your veins, molten and alive, heating your body from the inside out. The rush of it coursed through you, fingers buzzing with static, your chest tightening as if you were holding your breath for years without ever exhaling.
Your vision blurred, a tunnel of light where every refraction became an iridescent heart, glowing faintly in the distance. And yet, over it all, denial bubbled and crackled in your mind like a sputtering fuse. You told yourself it wasn’t real—just a trick of adolescence, a fleeting desire, the way your brain played with shadows and feelings to make you feel like this.
It wasn’t unusual, you reasoned. Lots of people thought their best friend’s older sibling was cool. Admiration was natural, harmless even. Powder sure loved to tease you about it.
And maybe, when you were younger, the way your chest fluttered when Violet smiled was just a childish crush, the kind you’d laugh about later.
But you didn’t laugh.
Because the years kept moving, and the feeling never left. It dug in, shifting from an innocent admiration to something heavier, harder to ignore. It was a slow burn—each year adding fuel to a fire you couldn’t destroy. Every glance she threw your way, every offhand comment that lingered in your mind like a melody you couldn’t stop humming, every time she showed up for Powder with that effortless swagger, the heat in your chest built.
She wasn’t just cool. She was intoxicating. Destructive. The kind of person who drew people in and broke them apart without meaning to, leaving them scrambling to put themselves back together again. And you were no exception.
You told yourself it was a passing phase, a silly infatuation that would fade as you got older. But it didn’t. Instead, it grew roots, wrapping itself between your ribs, tightening its grip with every stolen moment, breaking the bone until it seized your heart too.
She became a constant—there, just out of reach.
But then, there was a glance that lingered too long. And another. And then another. Shy gazes turned knowing, wanting. Kind smiles started to curve on themselves, smirking, teasing.
Then her hand brushed yours one night, deliberate, the press of her fingers against your wrist sending a jolt through your body.
“You okay?” she asked, her voice low, the kind that made you feel like the world had narrowed to just the two of you.
You weren’t.
How could you be when her breath was warm against your neck, her hands mapping every inch of your skin with an urgency that left you breathless? Her touch was fire, consuming you, leaving marks you swore she’d never see. She kissed you like she was trying to memorize you, her lips and teeth and tongue tracing the parts of you that ached for her.
The nights that followed were stolen—whispers exchanged in the dark, her body tangled with yours beneath sheets that smelled of her and regret. She’d show up unexpectedly, her knuckles rapping softly against your window, her grin equal parts cocky and sheepish when you let her in.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered once over the pounding of your heart.
But she just kissed you in response, her hands holding your face, her touch rough but reverent.
It was reckless, a secret you both held tightly, but it felt like falling—wild and thrilling like nothing else mattered.
Until it ended.
You should have seen it coming. The signs were there, subtle but unmistakable, like the way her touches lingered less, her smiles carried an unfamiliar edge of hesitation, or how she started showing up later and leaving earlier.
She pulled away first. Her body still sought yours in the dark, her kisses still burned against your skin—but something else tugged her away. The linkage you’ve made, fragile and unspoken, began to crack under the weight of what neither of you could say.
And then, one night, it just stopped.
There was no confrontation, no goodbye. Just a shitty note, scrawled in her rushed handwriting. An apology that didn’t explain anything and only left you with more questions than answers.
Sorry, can’t keep doing this. Take care.
That was it.
What the fuck? Who fucking does that?
You used to think you knew Vi, considering the two of you have known each other for years but for fucks sake. A fucking note?
You were left hollow, raw, trying to patch yourself together while carrying the weight of what you’d lost. The ache wasn’t sharp or explosive; it was slow and steady, a dull throb that settled in your chest and refused to leave. Like an old injury, it reminded you of her every time you tried to move on.
And then there was Powder.
The one thing both of you could agree on is that Powder could not know.
You couldn’t look at her without guilt sinking its claws deeper into you. Every laugh felt tinged with the shadow of what you were hiding from her. You’d never wanted to hurt her, not Powder—your other half, your best friend. But now, even sitting in the same room as her felt suffocating. She didn’t know why you pulled away, why you avoided talking about her sister, but she noticed. You saw it in her eyes, the way they clouded with quiet confusion and hurt.
Shit. You fucked up. Really bad.
You tried to fix it, pouring yourself into your friendship with Powder to make up for what you’d broken. But the cracks were there, widening with every forced laugh, every moment her gaze lingered too long, silently asking you what was wrong.
Did this make you a bad friend?
You told yourself it didn’t, that you were doing the right thing by keeping the secret buried until the day you died. But Violet was everywhere.
She was in every corner of that house, in every fucking memory. Her laughter echoed in your mind when the silence stretched too long, and her absence hung heavy in the air, turning a place that should have been safe into something haunted.
Now, the crunch of snow beneath your boots was deafening in the stillness of the night. Your breath hung in the air, visible and fleeting, mingling with the sharp scent of winter. The cold was unrelenting, biting through the thick layers of your coat and scarf, nipping at your cheeks and fingertips despite your gloves.
Ekko stood beside you, adjusting the knit hat pulled low over his ears. He shifted from foot to foot, his warm brown coat dusted with snowflakes that clung stubbornly to the fabric. His scarf was wrapped snugly around his neck, and his expression was relaxed, a stark contrast to the tightness in your chest.
You tugged at the sleeves of your coat, pulling them further over your hands as if that could keep the cold—and your nerves—at bay.
The house before you looked like something out of a holiday postcard. Twinkling Christmas lights lined the rooftop, casting a golden glow over the snow-laden yard. Frost framed the windows, and a simple wreath adorned the weathered front door, its red bow vibrant against the muted greens. The faint aroma of pine and cinnamon drifted from inside, wrapping around you like a bittersweet memory.
You stared at the door, every second stretching longer than it should. Standing here again, in this place so familiar yet painfully different, you wondered if coming back was a mistake.
Ekko nudged you gently with his elbow. “You good?” His voice was soft, a puff of mist forming with each word.
You nodded, though the knot in your stomach said otherwise. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Just... cold.”
Before either of you could knock, the door swung open.
Vi stood there, her presence commanding even in the soft glow of the porch light. Her once-vibrant pink hair had grown longer, the colour almost red at the ends, with dark roots framing her face in uneven strands that still carried that effortless charm. She wore a sweater and a jacket that stretched over her broad shoulders and dark jeans tucked into worn combat boots.
Her gaze landed on you, and for a moment, something flickered there—recognition, maybe even surprise—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Her lips curved into a faint smile, but it wasn’t warm. If anything, it felt like a placeholder for something she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say.
“Oh,” she said after a beat, her voice carrying an edge of surprise but little warmth. “Hey, guys. You’re early. Like, two days early.”
“We’re staying for the night,” Ekko said, brushing snow off his coat. “I thought Vander told you. He and Powder invited us.”
Vi blinked, her expression shifting almost imperceptibly as her jaw tightened. Her eyes flickered toward you—briefly, like looking too long might hurt—before she stepped aside.
“Oh,” she murmured, her voice quieter this time. “Right. Yeah. I was just heading out... but, uh, come in.”
The warmth of the house hit you immediately as you stepped through the door, but it barely thawed the chill lingering in your chest. The soft creak of the wooden floor welcomed you back like an old friend, though the once-chaotic energy of the home was subdued. The living room was tidier than you remembered, with carefully placed holiday decorations that hinted at some change within the walls.
Ekko stomped his boots on the mat and shrugged off his coat, but you hesitated, taking in the quiet. The faint murmur of laughter from upstairs made you smile, though your focus was pulled back to the sound of the door clicking shut behind you.
Vi lingered in the entryway, her frame silhouetted against the soft glow of Christmas lights spilling through the frosted windows. She looked different—older, sharper. Her pink hair was darker now at the roots, the faded strands falling over her face in a way that made her seem distant, untouchable. She shifted her weight, the leather of her jacket creaking softly, and the tension in her shoulders was noticeable.
Before either of you could say anything, a blur of blue came bounding down the stairs.
“ Finally! ” Powder’s voice carried through the room as she launched herself at you, arms tight around your shoulders. Your bags hit the floor with a dull thud as you caught her, laughing despite the ache in your chest.
She hadn’t changed much. Though her hair was shorter now, spiked at odd angles and choppy. Her hair was shorter now, spiked at odd angles, and choppy in a way that screamed ’last-minute experiment.’ You remembered her midnight call a few days ago, her voice buzzing with nerves and excitement over the impulsive haircut.
You hugged her back with the same force and you could feel the warmth of her cheek against yours. There was something undeniably comforting about being near her again.
When you pulled back, your gaze drifted to her hair, and you reached out instinctively, teasingly tugging at one jagged edge. “It looks worse in person,” you said with a smirk. “I thought you said Silco would fix it for you?”
Powder rolled her eyes dramatically, though her grin stayed firmly in place. “Jesus Christ, I just got home a few hours ago. Cut me some slack.”
“I’ve missed you,” you said, your voice softening as you leaned back to really look at her.
“Missed you more,” she shot back instantly, her arms still lingering on your shoulders like she was afraid to let go. “God, it’s been way too long.”
“Not that long,” Mylo called from the end of the stairs, “We literally saw each other at Thanksgiving.”
Powder’s head snapped around, glaring. “Fuck off, Mylo.”
“Just saying,” he muttered, disappearing into the kitchen with a shrug.
Powder turned back to you with a huff but couldn’t suppress the laugh bubbling up. “What an asshole. I swear he hasn’t grown up a day.” She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before bounding toward Ekko, who barely had time to react before she threw herself into his arms.
Ekko froze for a split second, his hands hovering awkwardly before resting on her waist. You stifled a grin as she leaned up to kiss him lightly on the lips. His ears turned crimson against his dark skin, and the sight almost made you laugh, but you held it in. Powder, of course, acted like nothing had happened, grabbing his bags and darting further into the house.
“Vander and Silco aren’t home yet,” she called over her shoulder, barely breaking stride. “They’re doing last-minute shopping with Claggor and Isha.”
You and Ekko exchanged a glance—his flustered expression made you grin wider—and then he followed her further inside.
You reached for your bag, your attention wandering as your eyes traced the wallpaper. It was new—bright and floral—but seemed oddly out of place against the worn, scuffed floors and familiar marked walls. Your fingers brushed at the strap absently, your mind still half-caught on the contrast between the house's old and new pieces.
A warm touch startled you.
Your hand stilled as you glanced down, finding Vi’s fingers barely brushing the strap of your bag. She froze too, her hand hovering awkwardly next to yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, the shared hesitation thick in the air between you.
“I just…” Vi’s voice broke the silence, softer than you’d expected. “In case you needed help,” she added, her tone careful. Without waiting for an answer, she slid the strap off the floor and into her hand. The weight didn’t faze her—of course it didn’t.
She stepped back immediately, her hands dropping to her sides. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue. For a second, it seemed like she might say something more, but the moment passed.
You waited—just a beat longer than you should have—but when she didn’t speak, you turned toward the stairs. Each step thudded softly beneath you, the weight of her silence trailing after you like an unwelcome shadow.
The grooves in the banister felt familiar under your fingertips, grounding you as you looked back. Vi hadn’t moved. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her jacket, her shoulders hunched forward as though she was trying to shrink in on herself. Her jaw worked tight, and her gaze was fixed on the floor, unyielding.
Something about the set of her shoulders tugged at your stomach, twisting it into an uneasy knot. But before you could decide whether to say something, she turned on her heel and slipped out the front door, letting it click softly shut behind her.
The ache in your chest lingered as you moved down the hall toward Powder’s room. Slipping in through the open door felt like stepping into a memory.
Nothing had changed.
The posters on the walls curled at the edges, faded from sunlight and time, but they were the same ones Powder had painstakingly arranged in high school. Her desk was a familiar mess of old art supplies, dried-up bottles of nail polish, and a tangle of wires from unfinished projects. A precarious stack of sketchbooks leaned against the desk lamp, and the familiar scent of vanilla candles mingled with something faintly chemical.
You smiled softly, running your fingers along the edge of her desk. It was comforting, in a way, to see how untouched it all felt, as though the past few years had been frozen in this space.
“What's the mattress for?” Ekko dropped his bag onto the floor with a loud thud.
Powder, kneeling on the ground by the end of the bed, didn’t look up as she smoothed the worn blanket over the mattress she’d pulled from the closet. “The three of us won’t fit on the bed.”
Ekko scoffed. “Don’t really want to share, anyway.”
You crossed your arms, arching a brow at him. “Not sharing a bed with me, or Pow?”
“You can’t just claim the bed,” you shot back, indignant.
“Why not? First come, first served.” Ekko leaned back, folding his arms behind his head like he was already settling in.
“Oh, come on.” You kicked at the mattress. “You’ve got this nice old mattress right here.”
He narrowed his eyes, clearly enjoying your indignation. “ You’ve got a nice old mattress.” Then he smirked, playing his trump card. “I’m the boyfriend. So I should get the bed with her.”
“By that logic, I’m the best friend,” you countered. “Therefore, I should get the bed.”
Powder glanced over her shoulder, her face split into a wide grin. “Flip a coin for it. I don’t care who gets the bed or not.” Then, as if anticipating neither of you would back down, she added, “Both of you can sleep on the floor if you really want.”
Her teasing pulled the tension out of the air, and Ekko shot you a victorious smirk as he rolled to the center to take up even more room.
You rolled your eyes, giving up the fight for now.
As the moment passed, your gaze drifted back to her desk. Amid the usual chaos of supplies and half-finished projects was something new: an open gift box. Curious, you stepped closer.
Inside was a framed collage, a carefully arranged mix of photos and clippings. There were pictures from Powder’s childhood, moments preserved from long-forgotten holidays and all the Christmases Vander and your parents had documented. A mix of photos showed her with her family, you, and Ekko in the snow. There were clippings of ribbons Powder used to wear in her hair, pressed flat against the collage, and notes you didn’t recognize.
“This is so cute,” you said, your curiosity piqued. “Who gave you that?”
Powder glanced up from the bed, her grin softening. “Vi. She gave it to me early—said she couldn’t wait until Christmas.”
Her tone was casual, but there was a warmth in her eyes as she spoke.
“Vi made that?” you asked, surprised.
Powder nodded. “She’s got her moments, you know.”
Ekko leaned back against the wall, chuckling. “You sound surprised. Vi’s the most sentimental person in this house.”
You blinked, caught off guard, your gaze flicking back to the collage. The little details stood out now—tiny notes scribbled in the margins of photos, careful placements that could only come from someone who knew Powder inside and out.
The realization settled slowly in your chest, like the soft weight of something long overdue. In the past few months, you’d let Vi’s tough act make a fool of you. You’d seen her through a lens warped by anger and frustration, letting her sharp edges and rough words overshadow everything else.
But you were wrong. You’d always known that, deep down.
Growing up, Vi had been a force of nature. Unstoppable, brooding, fierce in everything she did. She carried herself like someone who didn’t know how to back down, who didn’t know how to break. And maybe, as a kid, you’d believed that too—that she couldn’t break, that she was untouchable. But even then, there had been moments that broke through the storm, glimpses of the person she really was.
She’d always been the first to defend Powder when other kids teased her. She’d always been the one to step in when fights got too rough, when someone was about to cross a line they couldn’t take back. She was the one who stayed up late patching up scrapes and bruises with whatever supplies she could scrounge up, her hands gentler than you’d expected them to be.
Vi had always cared. Too much, maybe.
Her choices didn’t come from cold calculation or detached logic. She wasn’t distant. She wasn’t indifferent. Everything she did was rooted in emotion—raw, messy, overwhelming emotion that she couldn’t always hide. The same fire that made her so strong was the thing that burned her most. And somehow, you’d forgotten that.
Maybe it was because she played you. After all, she used you, used you like some toy until none of your tricks worked anymore. Until she got bored, you think.
Sorry, can’t keep doing this.
It had been months and the note is still tethered in your mind.
Powder, though, had never stopped seeing her for who she was. Powder fucking worshipped Violet. She always had. Even when they bickered, even when Vi’s temper flared, Powder talked about her like she was invincible. Her superhero big sister, the one who could do no wrong, who could fix anything.
To you, Vi had been more than a superhero. She’d been a storm. Something to admire from a safe distance, to watch in awe as she tore through the world around her. She was all the things you weren’t—bold, unyielding, unafraid. And maybe that’s why you couldn’t see her vulnerability. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to forget that she wasn’t just a storm.
Your gaze drifted back to the collage, to the careful placements and tiny notes scribbled in the margins. Every piece of it spoke to how well Vi knew her sister, how much she’d paid attention all these years, even when it looked like she wasn’t watching.
For all her strength, Vi had always been just as vulnerable as the rest of you.
--
Whenever Vi was around, you got quiet.
It wasn’t something you consciously decided. It just… happened. Words that usually came easily suddenly felt too big in your mouth, so when you were younger, you kept them locked behind your teeth.
The Last Drop was always noisy, the usual crowd of patrons filling the air with drunken chatter and the occasional crash of bottles. You weaved your way through the chaos, eyes scanning the room for Powder. She had a habit of disappearing into her projects, sometimes forgetting the world outside entirely, but she usually stuck to places where you could find her.
Though, she wasn’t at her usual corner table.
You hesitated outside the back room, your knuckles brushing against the door. It was already slightly ajar, faint light spilling into the hallway. You debated leaving—Powder would show up eventually, probably dragging some new contraption behind her—but then you heard the low murmur of a familiar voice.
Vi.
Your heart stuttered.
You pushed the door open cautiously, stepping inside. The smell of oil and something acrid lingered in the air, mingling with the warmth from the old, flickering light above. Violet was sitting at the edge of a workbench, her hands occupied with one of Powder’s unfinished gadgets. Her fingers worked with surprising precision , twisting wires together and securing pieces in place.
She looked up when she heard you enter, her sharp blue eyes pinning you in place.
“Looking for powder?”
You nodded, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself. You’d been so prepared to ask Powder if she’d remembered to grab Ekko’s spare slingshot, but now you were just... standing there, your mouth slightly open.
“Is she... here?”
“Yeah, she went to get somthing.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“You wanna wait here?”
You nodded again, like it was the only thing you knew how to do.
She kept looking at you, “You can sit, you know.”
There weren’t many places to sit. The workbench was cluttered, and the rest of the room was lined with crates and boxes that didn’t seem sturdy enough to support anyone’s weight.
But then Vi slid over to the side of the workbench, her boots scuffing lightly against the floor as she made space, and she glanced at you expectantly.
You hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, before finally taking a step forward. Your movements felt clumsy like you were an awkward puppet trying to figure out its strings. When you finally sat down, you perched on the very edge of the workbench, choosing the spot farthest from her. Your legs dangled awkwardly, your hands gripping the edge of the bench.
It wasn’t that you were scared of her—not exactly. There was something magnetic about Violet that you couldn’t put into words. Powder had talked about her endlessly, weaving stories that sounded too cool to be true: how Vi could talk her way out of anything or fight her way through anything she couldn’t. How she always stood her ground, even when she was scared. Those stories had made Violet seem larger than life, someone untouchable and unreal.
But now she was here and suddenly all those stories felt real.
You’d only seen her in passing before—a fleeting glimpse in Powder’s hallway or her shadow leaning in through a doorway. Those encounters had been brief, easy to escape. This? There was no escaping this.
Vi must’ve noticed the space you’d intentionally put between you both.
She smiled, slow and lopsided, a faint shake of her head betraying her amusement.
“What’s funny?” you asked, defensive.
“Nothing,” she said, her voice edged with a chuckle. She leaned back on her hands, crossing her legs casually as though to make herself smaller—less intimidating, perhaps. “You’re just… I don’t know. Skittish.”
“I’m not skittish.”
“Right,” she teased.
Your hands curled tighter around the edge of the bench. You could feel your heart pounding so hard you were convinced she could hear it.
“Relax,” she said after a moment, her tone lighter. “I’m not gonna bite.”
“I know,” you blurted out, the words coming out louder than intended.
Vi chuckled softly, shaking her head again. “So,” she began, as if trying to put you at ease, “you and Powder—friends, huh?”
“Best friends.”
“You guys get into trouble?” she asked.
“No,” you said automatically.
Her eyebrows lifted. “You lying?”
“…No.”
The pause was too long to be convincing, and Vi’s smirk widened as she leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees. “Uh-huh,” she murmured, clearly not buying it.
The door creaked open before she could press further, and you turned quickly, grateful for the interruption. Powder burst into the room, a notebook tucked under one arm and a precarious bundle of tools balanced in the other.
“There you are!” she chirped, her voice bubbling with excitement . “You’re not gonna believe this idea I had—”
Without waiting for a response, Powder grabbed your wrist, her grip surprisingly strong as she tugged you toward the door. She barely noticed Vi, too caught up in her excitement as she launched into an explanation of some wild project you only half-understood.
You stumbled after her, but as you reached the doorway, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder.
Vi was still watching you.
Her gaze was steady, her expression unreadable. It scared you. There was something in her eyes that made your stomach flip. Even as the door swung shut behind you, that look stayed with you, leaving a strange heat in its wake.
--
You’d always been a little jealous of how close Powder’s family was.
It wasn’t something you ever voiced aloud—it felt like a betrayal of your own family, even if there wasn’t much to betray. But the truth was that being around them, especially during the holidays, filled a space in you that you hadn’t even realized was empty.
Powder’s family had a way of making everyone feel like they belonged, whether it was Ekko or you slipping into the chaos of their home like you were meant to be there. Despite the worn walls, the mismatched furniture, and the chipped mugs of cocoa on the table, there was a warmth that couldn’t be shaken, a sense of togetherness that was tangible in the air.
They never made you feel like an intruder. In fact, you were certain you’d been assumed into the family years ago when Vander had hung up that photo of you winning your school’s spelling bee. It had a place of honour in the narrow hallway, wedged between photos of Powder’s first fight with Mylo (a blurry shot of fists mid-swing with Claggor and Vi trying to break them apart) and Ekko holding Isha as a baby.
Your photo was still there, a little faded from sunlight streaming through the windows, but it hadn’t budged. Vander’s way of saying you belonged.
The scent of cinnamon hung faintly in the air from Powder’s earlier attempt at baking cookies, but the chaos had only truly ignited when Vander, Silco, Claggor, and Isha returned from their last-minute grocery run.
The front door banged open, letting in a blast of cold December air, and the house erupted into chaos.
Isha launched herself off Claggor’s shoulders the second she spotted you and Ekko lounging on the couch with Powder. She gasped dramatically, her wide eyes shining as she yanked off her hat and darted forward, boots still tracking snow onto the worn rug.
“Shoes off at the door, Isha!” Vander called, his voice half-stern, half-amused as he stepped inside behind her, arms loaded with grocery bags.
Isha ignored him completely, stopping in front of you to tug insistently at your sleeve and point to the bag of snacks Vander had left on the counter. You raised an eyebrow and grinned. “You want first pick? Only if you let me braid your hair later.”
Isha exaggeratedly rolled her eyes but gave you an enthusiastic nod, darting toward the kitchen before Claggor could even put the bags down.
“Didn’t we just clean the floor this morning?” Claggor muttered, shaking his head but smiling. He followed Isha into the kitchen, helping Silco unpack the bags while Mylo hovered nearby, his arm already snagging the bag of candy canes.
“We’re redoing those cookies,” Silco said, his calm voice cutting through Mylo’s protests.
“That’s not on me! Powder was supposed to—”
“You were distracting me!” Powder called from the couch, not even bothering to look away from the movie she and Ekko were half-watching.
“Enough bickering. Let’s just get it done,” Silco said with finality, rolling up his sleeves.
Warm greetings and laughter followed, and eventually, everyone found their way to the living room. It felt like old times—loud, messy, and alive in a way that was uniquely theirs.
You sat cross-legged on the rug, carefully weaving a braid into Isha’s hair. She perched in front of you with exaggerated patience, her fingers tapping on her knees every time you paused to adjust a strand. Every so often, she tilted her head back to glance at the movie, nearly undoing your work.
“Stay still,” you murmured, gently guiding her head back into place.
She groaned dramatically, her hands moving in quick, sharp gestures towards the television.
“You’ll see when it’s done,” you promised, laughing softly. “Almost there.”
Across the room, Powder was curled up on the couch with Ekko behind her, the two of them bundled under a mismatched blanket. Powder sipped from a steaming mug, her eyes half-closed as she relaxed against Ekko’s chest.
“You missed a spot,” Ekko teased, gesturing vaguely toward the braid.
“Quiet, or you’re next,” you shot back with a grin, earning a soft laugh from Powder.
“Next? You think I’d let you near my hair?” Ekko countered, sitting up just enough to look mock-offended.
“Keep talking, and I’ll braid yours while you sleep,” you quipped, finishing Isha’s braid with a quick twist and securing it with a small elastic.
Isha beamed as you let her go, rushing to the mirror by the dining room to inspect your handiwork. She returned moments later with a bright smile and a thumbs-up of approval, spinning dramatically to show off to everyone before plopping back down beside you on the rug.
The room hummed with quiet chatter and the faint crackle of the old TV. Vander sat in the armchair, flipping through the pages of an old, dog-eared book, while Claggor and Mylo argued over whose turn it was to get the snacks from the kitchen. Silco leaned against the wall, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched the scene unfold.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered when Vi would come back home. She always seemed to find her way back eventually, just like everyone else.
But for now, you let yourself sink into the warmth of the room, the sound of Isha’s soft humming beside you, and the way this mismatched family made you feel whole.
--
It was hours later until the house had finally quieted down.
By the time you got ready for bed, everyone else had already found their corners of the house to sleep in. Powder and Ekko had claimed the couch for a while, tangled up under the same blanket, their heads tilted toward one another before they went upstairs. Vander was stretched out in his recliner, his book slipping from his fingers as his snores rumbled softly through the room. Mylo and Claggor had retreated to their rooms. Even Silco, who always seemed to operate on less sleep than anyone else, had disappeared.
The last to go was Isha.
She hadn’t wanted to leave the warmth of the living room, her small hands clutching your sleeve as you led her down the hallway to her bedroom. She’d signed with exaggerated reluctance, dragging her feet just enough to make you laugh softly.
“Come on, you need your beauty sleep,” you had teased, tucking her into the small bed piled high with mismatched blankets. Isha grinned up at you, her eyes bright even in the low light, before closing them as if to humour you.
Once her breathing had evened out, you quietly slipped out of the room, shutting the door just enough to let a sliver of light from the hallway peek through.
And you? You lingered.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you brushed your teeth slowly, watching your reflection in the dim light. The rhythmic swish of the toothbrush and the faint creak of the old floorboards were the only sounds in the stillness. You were taking your time, you realized.
It wasn’t that you weren’t tired. You were—your limbs heavy from the warmth of the house, your eyes drooping slightly. But you’d noticed the way Powder had curled closer to Ekko as the night went on, the soft, shy glances she’d thrown him. They’d barely had a moment alone all evening, and you didn’t want to intrude, not when she’d looked so happy.
So, you stalled.
After rinsing your mouth, you padded quietly into the kitchen, your socked feet barely making a sound on the worn floor. You poured yourself a glass of water, sipping slowly as you glanced out the window. The snow had stopped falling, leaving a soft blanket of white under the moonlight. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel like the whole world was holding its breath.
You set the glass down on the counter, letting your fingers trace the rim absentmindedly. The stillness felt comforting, though admittedly a little lonely.
The soft creak of the front door broke the silence.
You turned, your heart skipping just slightly at the unexpected sound. The door opened slowly, and a familiar figure stepped inside, brushing snow off her jacket.
Vi.
She quietly kicked the door closed behind her, her boots scuffing against the rug as she tugged her gloves off. Her hair was damp with melted snow, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. She looked surprised to see you, her eyes narrowing slightly before recognition softened her expression.
“Oh, hey.”
“Hi.”
You watched as she shed her jacket, revealing the worn sweater she had underneath. She looked good, you realized, in that effortless way she always did. Like she didn’t have to try to draw attention—she just did. You hated that after all this time you still found her maddeningly attractive.
You cleared your throat. “Did you have fun?”
You were trying this new thing called: being mature.
Vi glanced at you, her brows knitting together as if puzzled by your question. It struck you that maybe she’d expected you to ignore her, to keep the peace by staying out of her way. “Oh, yeah. Jayce says hi.”
That tugged a faint smile from you despite yourself. It had been a while since you’d seen or even thought of Jayce, Mel, or the rest of the old crew. Memories stirred—ones you hadn’t decided whether to cherish or bury.
“I figured everyone would be asleep by now,” she said as she moved toward the kitchen, her voice casual but her movements careful, like she was testing the waters.
“They are,” you replied. “I was just… taking my time.”
Vi arched an eyebrow, leaning against the counter beside you, her frame close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating off her. “Taking your time? That’s a new one.”
You rolled your eyes, the teasing curve of her lips unsettling you more than you wanted to admit. “Powder and Ekko looked like they could use some space. I thought I’d give them a chance to… you know, not have me hovering.”
“How considerate of you.”
“I can be nice.”
“Sure you can.”
“Yeah, well, I try,” you said, shifting your weight and crossing your arms as you turned to face her.
The kitchen fell silent. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy, either. She met your gaze, her expression unreadable for a moment. Her gaze on your skin felt like a physical touch, and when it stopped at your lips, a shock of heat went through your body, from the crown of your head down to your toes. Her eyes moved over you like a caress of the summer breeze.
You watched her swallow. You saw her mouth part, her tongue emerging to wet her lips.
All of a sudden, the thought of being civil shattered, crumbling into a heap of raw, unfiltered anger. You were back in your bed that summer, the sunlight streaming through your curtains in lazy, mocking streaks. It was too bright, too cheerful, as if the world hadn’t just caved in on you.
Your eyes zeroed in on that damned note—the one she’d left on your bedside table, shoved beneath an old glass of water. Half-empty. The wet rim of the glass had left its mark, smudging the ink like it was trying to wipe her words away, but they were seared into your mind.
Sorry, can’t keep doing this. Take care.
Can’t keep doing what ? Can’t keep loving you? Can’t keep seeing the way your ribs were cracking? The skin breaking? The bone snapping? Splintering after each pound of your heart because she was close to you? Because she was kissing you? Because her lips left searing marks for you to remember the longing in her eyes, the blush on her cheeks?
Can’t keep doing what ?
Why couldn’t she take the heart you were giving her? Why couldn't she take it from your hands, blooded at the nails as you tore it from your own chest, strings and veins hoping to attach to hers if she lets you?
Huh.
Maybe you weren’t as over it as you thought.
Even now, the bitterness clawed its way back to the surface, sharp and unrelenting. You remembered the feeling—the quiet, creeping devastation of being blindsided. The hollow ache in your chest as you read her rushed words, so impersonal it felt like a stranger had written them. Not her.
The sharp edge of the memory made you flinch, thrusting you backward, too fast, your hip slamming into the counter. The pain was sharp, wrenching you back to the present. You winced, a pained groan caught in your throat.
“Hey—” Vi moved toward you instinctively, her arms half-raised.
“I should go to bed,” you managed, voice strained and uneven. You reached for your glass, fumbled it into the sink, and winced at the clatter. Frustration rose like a tide, threatening to pull you under.
Vi muttered your name, soft, almost tender. Her hand brushed against your forearm, the barest graze of her fingers sending a shock through you. You jerked back, raising a hand to keep her at a distance.
“You’re still angry,” she said, her voice even, like she was stating a fact.
A bitter laugh escaped you, sharp and cutting. “Shouldn’t I be?”
“Look—”
“What are we doing here, Vi?”
She tilted her head, trying for humour. “Standing in the kitchen?”
You didn’t smile. Couldn’t. “Vi.”
“What?”
“You left me.”
She went stock still. Rigid.
Finally, finally , there you were, hands balled into fists, turning in the middle of the room. Almost a decade’s worth of anger, disappointment, confusion, and, what the hell, maybe a little hatred boiled over, clawing its way out of you before you could stop it.
“ You left me,” you repeated, your voice rising despite yourself. “And I… I had no one to talk to about it. Do you have any idea what that was like?”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“You told me not to tell Powder. You made me promise,” you continued, your voice cracking under the weight of it. “Do you know how fucked up it was to keep that kind of secret from her? From everyone?”
Vi’s jaw tightened, and her lips pressed into a thin, defensive line. “Obviously I know. She’s my sister. What the hell was I supposed to do? Just tell her I was hooking up with her best friend behind her back? How was that gonna go over?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Vi,” you hissed, trying to keep quiet. You threw your hands up, pacing a step away before turning back. “You really think Powder would’ve cared? She idolizes you. She’d have been thrilled if you had just—ugh—grown a pair and said something!”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Vi snapped, “you weren’t the one breaking every unspoken rule of friendship with her. I was. I was lying to her, betraying her—”
“Easy for me? What? And what ?” you shot back, cutting her off. “You think I was just fine with lying to my best friend, pretending nothing was going on? I thought we were doing this together, Vi. But no, you had to make it this big, guilty secret. Like... like I was some dirty fucking secret to you.”
“It wasn’t like that—you weren’t—”
“And then—then you didn’t even have the guts to tell me you were leaving. You just—” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the memory of that note resurfaced, slicing through your chest all over again. You threw your hands in the air, dropping them by your aside, “You left a fucking note and ran off like a fucking pussy.”
Vi flinched at that, but her defences were back up in an instant. “You don’t get it,” she said, her voice lower now, simmering with frustration. “I felt like I was losing myself. Like I was letting both of you down—Powder and you. I thought leaving was the only way to fix it.”
Her being vulnerable made you even angrier. You had thought you were prepared, that magically you’d be able to have a civil conversation that settled the matter in a way that left you with your pride intact and Vi still being the heartless bitch you remembered her as (which you knew was not true at all, but lately you only had that note to remember her by tied with whatever Powder would tell you).
Clearly, you’ve miscalculated.
“You were wrong.”
“I know.”
“And stupid.”
“I get it.”
You took a breath. “I just... I hope we can be civil. For Powder. I’m here because of her. For her. She’s the only reason I came back.”
Vi looked away.
“Goodnight, Violet,” you muttered, brushing past her before she could try to stop you again.
--
You didn’t think you could love anyone more than you loved Powder.
Powder wasn’t just your best friend; she was your gravity, the one who kept you tethered to the earth when everything else threatened to spin out of control. She was the ink blot in the centre of every map you’d ever drawn, the beginning and end of every plan. By the time you were fourteen, the bond between you felt indestructible, like it was woven from a thread that the universe had spun just for the two of you.
You were partners in crime, yes, but also in something deeper: a shared wonder at the world, a refusal to accept its boundaries. Together, you didn’t just dream—you built those dreams. With your hands, your voices, your endless supply of hope, you created things no one else dared to imagine. There were nights when you’d sit under the dim glow of a streetlamp, her head resting on your shoulder, as the two of you scribbled on scraps of stolen paper . Plans for impossible inventions, designs that were part genius, part disaster, but always wholly yours.
It wasn’t just that you loved Powder. It was that she was a part of you. Her laughter lived in your bones, her worries haunted your heart, and her victories felt like your own . She had a way of looking at you, wide-eyed and trusting, that made you believe you could do anything, so long as you did it together.
You both made a mess of things sometimes—scraped knees, singed eyebrows, stolen goods that were more trouble than they were worth. But those moments became stories to tell and retell, memories you carried like talismans against the dark. Because no matter how wild things got, no matter how many alleyways you ran through or rooftops you scrambled over, you always knew Powder would be there at the end of it , laughing, breathless, and shining like the only light you’d ever need.
If there were such a thing as soulmates, you were certain Powder was yours. Not in the way people whispered about under the glow of moonlight—not romantic, not fleeting. But something ancient, bone-deep, like the kind of love that could outlast wars, loss, even time itself. If the world ended, you were sure the two of you would still find a way to survive, together, cobbling something beautiful out of the ruins.
She was your compass, your north star, your reason for believing that things could get better. And you would have done anything for her.
Her room was your second home (much like your own was hers), a chaotic mess of everything that made Powder Powder . The walls were covered in scrawled blueprints pinned up with mismatched tacks, paper edges curling from the humidity of the Lanes.
Above her bed, a row of old family pictures was strung like fairy lights, clipped onto twine with tiny clothespins. The images were faded but warm—Powder as a baby, Powder with Mylo and Claggor, Violet grinning with her arm around a much smaller Powder, Vander and Silco somewhere in the background, a recent one with you and Ekko at each of her sides.
Her desk was a cluttered battleground of unfinished gadgets, scattered tools, and school assignments half-completed and half-forgotten. A worn, stuffed bunny sat propped against one of the desk legs, its button eyes long since replaced with mismatched screws.
On the floor next to the bed, your backpack sat half-open, spilling its contents onto a pile of Powder’s clothes that might as well have been yours by now. The two of you had shared so many hoodies and t-shirts that you barely knew whose was whose anymore.
You were perched on Powder’s bed, the mattress lumpy but familiar, as the sharp scent of nail polish filled the air. Powder’s fingers were smudged with blue from a bottle that had tipped over earlier, and she was trying to paint your nails without dripping polish all over the blanket between you.
“Hold still,” she muttered, her tongue poking out as she concentrated.
“You’re the one making a mess,” you shot back, laughing as you pulled your hand away to examine the streak of polish running down your finger. “This looks awful, Pow. You should’ve let me do this.”
She snatched your hand back with a huff, “Fuck off. It’s not my fault you have twitchy hands.”
With her exaggerated movement, she knocked over the bottle again. Blue polish spilled onto the blanket, spreading in a small puddle.
“Powder!” you exclaimed, though you couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling out of you.
“Oops,” she said with a shrug, clearly not sorry, as she grabbed a rag to clean it up.
The two of you burst into laughter, leaning against each other for balance, the kind that made your ribs ache and your cheeks hurt.
Scattered across the bed were the sketches for her latest invention—a spring-loaded trap designed to “keep Mylo out of my room.” You’d been helping her refine the design all evening, pointing out where the gears might jam or how to reinforce the springs so they wouldn’t snap.
“You think this will actually work?” you asked, picking up one of the schematics and holding it up to the light.
“It’ll work,” Powder said with complete confidence, leaning over to add a few more messy lines to the paper. “It has to... or, y’know, boom.” She grinned like that was the best possible outcome.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help grinning back.
You started to climb out of the bed, shifting carefully so you didn’t disturb the scattered nail polish bottles or the sketches on the blanket. Before you could get your balance, Powder jabbed a foot into your side with a mischievous grin, sending you sprawling onto the floor with a loud thud .
“Powder!” you groaned, rubbing your arm where you landed on the corner of a notebook.
Her response was to double over with laughter, the sound light and uncontrollable. “Sorry, sorry,” she wheezed, though the glint in her eye said otherwise. “You made it too easy!”
You grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at her, hitting her square in the face. Powder let out a dramatic gasp, clutching the pillow as it had wounded her. “Oh, you bitch!” she declared, launching herself off the bed and tackling you back onto the floor.
The two of you wrestled in a storm of laughter and flailing limbs, your voices loud enough to rattle the pictures on her wall. At some point, she managed to pin you down, her blue-stained fingers triumphantly waving the pillow above her head.
A sharp bang came from the wall, followed by Mylo’s muffled voice. “Shut the fuck up! Some of us are trying to sleep!”
You both froze for a moment before bursting into another fit of uncontrollable giggles, clutching your stomachs as you rolled away from each other.
“I can’t breathe,” you gasped, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.
Powder flopped onto her back, still giggling. “Mylo’s such a loser.”
When the laughter finally began to subside, your stomach growled loud enough for her to hear. You groaned in embarrassment while Powder perked up, her expression instantly brightening.
“Thank god,” she said, leaping to her feet and tossing the pillow onto the bed. “I’m starving.”
She bounded toward the door, knocking over a sketchbook you were sure belonged to Ekko and a bottle of glitter glue on her way. You sat up, still catching your breath, and watched as she paused at the doorframe, turning back to wave you over.
“C’mon, slowpoke,” she teased. “Don’t make me eat by myself.”
The promise of food was enough to spur you into action. You scrambled to your feet, brushing off the stray bits of blanket fuzz clinging to your pyjamas, and followed her out.
The hallway was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlights outside filtering through cracked blinds. The air smelled faintly of Vander’s cigars mixed with the tantalizing aroma of whatever takeout Claggor ordered was waiting downstairs. Powder’s footsteps were quick and uneven as she hopped down the stairs two at a time, her voice echoing back to you.
“What d’you think they got? Noodles? Oh, maybe dumplings! Or those buns—what’re they called? The ones with the pork inside?”
“Bao?” you offered, gripping the railing to keep from tripping over a stray shoe someone had left on the stairs.
“Yeah, those!” she called over her shoulder.
When you reached the bottom of the stairs, the smell of food was stronger, warm and savoury, wrapping around you like a hug. Powder darted into the living room ahead of you, but you stopped in your tracks as soon as you rounded the corner.
Violet was sprawled across the couch, her legs up on the armrest. Her boots were still on, the scuffed soles pressed into the worn cushions. Pink hair tumbled loosely around her face, half-obscuring her sharp features as she leaned back with a dumpling poised between her fingers. Her eyes flicked to yours mid-bite, and her smirk was immediate.
Beside her, Caitlyn sat upright, a contrast to Vi’s casual sprawl on her lap. Caitlyn’s dark hair was neatly tied back, and she rested one hand lightly on Vi’s hair. Together, they looked so at ease, so entwined in their quiet dynamic that it made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t quite understand—or didn’t want to.
“Well, well,” Vi drawled, her voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt. “Look who decided to join the party.” Her eyes roamed over you and Powder, and her grin widened, sharp and almost playful.
Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You had seen them together before, but there was something about seeing them like this—so comfortable, so casual—that left you rooted to the spot. You glanced at Powder, silently begging for an anchor, but she was already tearing into the takeout bags on the table.
“Finally!” Powder exclaimed, holding up a box of noodles like it was treasure. She dropped to the floor without hesitation, crossing her legs and pulling the box into her lap.
She glanced pointedly at Vi and Caitlyn, rolling her eyes. “Are you two gonna take that upstairs, or do we have to suffer through whatever this is during our dinner?” She gestured vaguely at the space (or lack of) between them, nose scrunching in disgust.
Vi scoffed, stuffing the rest of the dumpling into her mouth. “We were here first,” she said, words slightly muffled.
“I don’t care.”
Vi leaned back further into the couch, looking entirely unbothered. “We’re not moving, Pow.”
You tried to ignore the way your chest tightened as you shuffled closer to Powder, grabbing the first takeout box your hand landed on. Powder nudged you with her elbow, grinning conspiratorially. “Ignore them,” she whispered, her tone light and dismissive.
And you did.
You ignored them for months, maybe even years. You ignored the way your stomach twisted itself into knots every time Vi was near. You ignored the lingering glances, the lazy smirks, and the moments that felt too heavy for what they were.
You ignored her when she stopped calling you “Powder’s friend” and started using your name instead—when she started seeing you not as an extension of her sister, but as your own person.
Maybe it was better off when she never saw you as such.
--
You figured (because you didn’t know how to act around Violet without wanting to scream and tear your own hair out) that the best way to be civil was to fall back on old habits. Childish habits, sure, but perhaps the most mature option available—given that talking about feelings had not worked out the way you’d hoped. For now, ignoring Vi entirely seemed like the safest bet.
When she walked into a room, you made it a point to walk out into another. If leaving wasn’t an option, you buried your nose further into whatever book was in your hands. Maybe Vander needed help in the kitchen, or Powder needed a hand with one of her endless projects. Claggor’s choice of movie—one you’d initially deemed boring—suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world.
It was a tactic you’d mastered as a kid. And if you were being honest, you blamed Powder for it. She’d started this habit of avoiding Vi, and it had rubbed off on you. Whenever a flash of pink hair crossed the corner of your vision, you’d instinctively turn the other way.
Back then, the reason was simple: Powder hated Caitlyn. Vi never seemed to go anywhere without her, so to show her disapproval, Powder avoided her sister like the plague and gave her the silent treatment for weeks—months, even. Naturally, being attached at the hip with Powder meant you also ignored Vi with just as much vigour. Though, of course, your reasons had always been different. They still were.
You were reminded of those days the next morning when you and Claggor exchanged knowing glances, your silent conversation punctuated by the sound of yelling from upstairs. Over the hum of the television, you could just barely make out Vi and Powder arguing about something as ridiculous as “ my jacket! ” and “ it’s not yours! ”
It is not exactly an uncommon occurrence in the household. Powder and Vi fought over stupid things all the time, and you inevitably got dragged into the middle of it.
Before long, Powder stomped down the stairs, rubbing at her eyes and grumbling under her breath. Spotting you on the couch, her expression brightened, a mischievous glint lighting up her tired face. “Wanna get out of here for a bit? See if any shops are still open? Or just... walk around?”
You opened your mouth, ready to point out that it was freezing outside, that the snow had to be inches high by now—but you caught the desperate edge in her tone, the almost pleading look in her eyes, and swallowed the protest.
“Sure,” you said instead, pushing yourself off the couch.
Getting ready was quick enough, though you couldn’t resist giving Ekko a side-eye as he sprawled across Powder’s bed, snoring lightly with one arm draped lazily over his face. You were lacing up your boots when the door swung open, and Vi appeared in the frame.
She froze for a moment when she saw you sitting at Powder’s desk instead of her sister. Her eyes flicked across the room, taking in the scene—the absence of Powder, the half-packed bag on the bed.
“Where’s—?”
“Bathroom,” you replied curtly, not bothering to turn fully around.
“Right.”
You expected her to leave after that. But as you turned back to the mirror over Powder’s vanity, adjusting your scarf, you caught Vi lingering in the doorway in your reflection.
It was so reminiscent of when you were kids that it made your chest ache. Back then, you ignored her when she barged into Powder’s room during your sleepovers, teasing her little sister with her typical swagger and throwing offhand comments that always seemed to be aimed at you.
Powder, immune to Vi’s antics, would roll her eyes and brush her off. You, on the other hand, weren’t so lucky. Heat would creep up your neck, and you’d stumble over your words when Vi’s gaze lingered on you for just a second too long.
Now, Vi’s presence was quieter, more uncertain. She didn’t tease like she used to, but her lingering still made your heart stutter.
“You guys going out?”
“Yeah.”
You fell back into the old routine more smoothly than you’d anticipated, and a small, self-satisfied part of you almost wanted to pat yourself on the back. It was easier this way—one-word answers, your refusal to meet her gaze, to acknowledge her properly.
For a moment, you wondered if she noticed.
“Where you going?”
“Dunno.”
“Not many places open. ’Cause of the snow.”
“Mm.”
“Yeah, might start snowing again tonight, too.”
“ Cool .”
It was a rhythm you knew well, a game of evasion and clipped responses that kept you safely guarded. But then she threw you off balance.
“Do you need a ride?”
That made you pause. The unexpected question broke the rhythm, and your routine faltered. Against your better judgment, you glanced at her—just briefly—from the mirror. A mistake. She was still in her pyjamas, red plaid pants slung low on her hips, and a worn tank that clung to her in a way that made your breath hitch. You stared longer than you should have, breaking one of your unspoken rules.
Her smirk, subtle but unmistakable, told you she noticed.
You scowled, turning your eyes back to the mirror. “Ask Powder,” you muttered. “I don’t know where we’re going.”
You hated how your voice betrayed you, a little too soft, a little too unsure.
“We’re taking Isha skating,” Powder chimed in as she walked into the room, her tone matter-of-fact.
Isha followed close behind, bundled in layers with a stride full of swagger and a bright scarf hanging loosely around her neck. She walked straight up to Vi, a grin lighting up her face, and promptly took off her own hat, stretching onto her toes to jump and plop it onto Vi’s head.
Vi froze for a moment, surprised, before reaching up to adjust the too-small hat, her fingers brushing against the wool. “Thanks, squirt,” she murmured, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips.
Isha just smirked, stepping back and crossing her arms with a triumphant air, clearly pleased with herself.
Powder barely spared her older sister another glance as she sauntered further in, kicking Ekko’s side as she passed. “Wake up, lazy,” she grumbled.
Ekko jolted awake with a groan, rubbing his face as Isha launched herself onto the bed. Her delighted squeal filled the room as she climbed over Ekko, her tiny hands tugging at his shirt to get his attention.
Meanwhile, Powder turned to Vi, hands on her hips, her expression unreadable. “You can come if you want,” she said with a shrug, her voice casual but edged with something more.
It was her way of forgiving her—or maybe apologizing. You could never quite tell. You hadn’t caught enough of their fight to figure out who’d been in the wrong this time.
Vi seemed to hesitate, her gaze flickering between you, Powder, and Isha, who was now giggling uncontrollably as Ekko tried to tickle her.
You sighed quietly to yourself. Skating sounded like a good escape. You loved it, always had, and the thought of gliding across the ice under the open sky was tempting. But the whole point of agreeing to Powder’s idea was to avoid Violet—not to end up skating in circles around her.
--
It was hard to ignore Vi the spring she got her first tattoo.
It was a simple design that spiralled around the back of her forearm. It was understated but bold, much like Vi herself. For weeks after, more tattoos appeared—on her shoulders, the side of her neck, her back. Piercings too. The ink seemed to mark milestones in her life that you weren’t a part of, reminders of how much she’d changed while you’d stayed tethered to the same place.
When your parents invited Powder’s family over for a barbecue and swim by the time summer came around, you tried your hardest to ignore her there too.
It wasn’t easy with the way the sunlight glinted off the ink on her shoulders, the intricate patterns shifting and coming alive whenever she moved. Her back muscles flexed when she leaned over to grab a drink from the cooler, her damp hair sticking to her neck in a way that made your stomach twist—a sleeveless shirt and boy shorts that showed off the tattoos snaking along her arms and neck.
And then there was Caitlyn.
She arrived with Vi, stepping out of the same car with a soft laugh that carried across the yard. Tall, composed, and impossibly pretty, Caitlyn’s presence lit up the space in a way that felt both magnetic and infuriating. Her fitted sundress swayed as she walked, fuck she was so perfect.
You liked Caitlyn.
She was kind, posh in that way that only people from richer side of the city seemed to be, and, sure, a little ignorant at times—but she had an earnestness about her that made it hard to hold it against her. She listened, really listened. She was understanding, and she was considerate.
She’d never given you a reason not to like her. Well, Powder might have a list if you asked her—snide little remarks about her polished accent or her insistence on “doing things properly.” But Powder’s grievances never carried any real weight, not to you. Caitlyn wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t trying to be, and that made it easier to like her.
You liked the way she did her makeup. When you mentioned it once, offhandedly, she lit up like you’d given her the highest compliment. “I could teach you, if you’d like,” she’d offered, her voice soft and a little shy, as if she wasn’t sure you’d accept.
Whenever she slept over at Powder’s house, she’d take you by the hand, leading you to the cramped little bathroom with its flickering bulb and streaky mirror (which Silco had fixed now). Out came her makeup bag, an immaculate little case filled with powders and brushes that looked impossibly fancy.
“Close your eyes,” she’d say, her tone somewhere between playful and professional.
You already knew how to do your own makeup—of course you did—but there was something comforting in the way Caitlyn worked. The gentle pressure of her fingers tilting your chin, the soft brushes grazing your skin, the quiet hum of concentration she always had. Her style never quite suited your face the way it suited hers but you didn’t mind. You liked the ritual of it, the way it felt like a secret just for the two of you.
More than that, you liked the way she tried. She tried to know you , to understand the patchwork family Powder had built around herself. She made the effort in ways that felt deliberate, and thoughtful, and it was hard not to respect that.
You liked to think she was your friend.
Caitlyn looped her arm casually through Vi’s, leaning in to whisper something that made Vi chuckle—a rare, unguarded sound that carried over the backyard.
Powder, bobbing beside you in the pool, nudged your shoulder with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
“Oh, there they go again,” she scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain.
You tried not to react, forcing your gaze away from Vi and Caitlyn. Instead, you focused on the sunlight dancing across the water’s surface, glinting like shards of glass as it clung to your skin. “What?” you muttered, keeping your tone as flat as possible .
Powder tilted her head toward the scene. “I wish they’d get a room or something. It’s fucking disgusting.”
“Come on, Pow, they’re just talking,” Ekko chimed in, sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet submerged in the water. He leaned back lazily, his sunglasses perched on his nose.
“Talking leads to cuddling,” Powder grumbled, crossing her arms as she floated beside you. “And cuddling leads to kissing. And we all know where that leads to.”
“Gross,” you muttered under your breath before splashing her, the water catching her square in the face.
“I’m just saying,” she shot back, blinking water from her lashes. “They’re gross.”
“You’re her sister, of course you’re gonna find it gross,” Ekko reminded her.
Powder huffed, her brow furrowing. “No, it’s gross because I don’t think Caitlyn’s good for her.”
“And you know who’s good for Vi?”
“Of course I do,” she said matter-of-factly, her tone so self-assured it nearly made you laugh. “Just like I know Gert’s good for Mylo if he’d stop being a little pussy about it.”
You followed her gaze to where Mylo stood by Claggor near the grill, the two of them peering into the barbecue. Mylo was trying (and failing) to sneak a piece of food before it was ready.
“I love your way with words,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes.
“Thank you,” Powder replied brightly, poking your side. Then her grin faltered, and she sighed. “But seriously. It’s like I have to wrestle her for Vi’s attention. And it’s annoying.”
--
You’d tied your skates too tight. Not intentionally—at least, that’s what you told yourself—but enough that your feet screamed. The blinding ache radiated up your calves, sharp and unrelenting, and you welcomed it. Maybe if you focused on the pain, it could drown out the storm brewing in your chest, the bitterness, the ache of everything else you didn’t want to feel. Maybe even how fucking cold it was outside.
Every step sent a throb through your legs, forcing you to clench your jaw until your teeth ground together. Ahead, Powder and Ekko laughed as they circled the rink, Isha wedged between them, tugging at their hands to keep herself upright. Her gleeful giggles floated back to you, light and carefree.
You stumbled again, catching your balance just in time to avoid another fall. That was the third time in the past ten minutes. The third damn time. You weren’t bad at skating—far from it, actually. Normally, you glide over the ice with ease, cutting through the rink like a blade. But today, the weight of your mood clung to you like lead, pulling you down, making you clumsier with every step.
You tried to focus on the cold air biting at your cheeks, on the blinding sunlight against the white snow, the rhythmic scrape of skates against the ice, but it did nothing to shake the sourness coiling tighter and tighter in your gut.
You were mid-stumble, arms flailing slightly as you tried to catch yourself again when the faintest whiff of something familiar hit you—cologne, earthy and faintly sweet. And then, beside you, came the sound of old, busted hockey skates carving through the ice.
Of all the bad luck…
“Hey,” came Vi’s voice, “you okay?”
You didn’t turn to look at her. Barely spared her a glance out of the corner of your eye.
“Fine.”
She didn’t leave. Of course, she didn’t. Instead, she lingered, her presence as irritating as the ache in your feet.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, skating closer, her voice quieter now but still persistent.
You sighed heavily, exasperated. “My feet hurt.”
“You wanna sit?”
“No.”
She let out a breath—sharp, annoyed, and entirely too familiar. “Fine.”
She didn’t skate away, though. She stayed right where she was, matching your pace despite the wobble in your steps. Her silence gnawed at you, scraping at the edges of your resolve like sandpaper.
You tightened your grip on the thought—the hope—that she’d eventually leave, that she’d get bored and skate off to join Powder or Isha. But she didn’t. Instead, she stayed, her presence an infuriating reminder of everything you were trying to forget.
You clenched your jaw and pushed forward, ignoring the sting in your feet, ignoring her, ignoring everything except the dull thud of your skates against the ice.
But then your skate caught on a groove in the ice, a small imperfection that sent you lurching forward. Your heart jumped into your throat as your arms flailed for balance.
Before you could hit the ice, a hand shot out, firm and steady, catching your elbow. Vi steadied you without a word, her grip warm and grounding even through the layers of your jacket.
“Thanks,” you muttered, pulling your arm away as if her touch burned.
She gave a faint nod, her expression unreadable, her eyes flickering to you before glancing ahead. You opened your mouth to speak, to say something—anything—but the words twisted up inside you, tangling with the bitterness that had settled in your chest.
You wanted to talk to her. You really did. But what would you even say? You’d already tried last night, hadn’t you? Tried to bridge the gap, to ask questions you weren’t ready to hear the answers to. And it had all fallen flat.
You wanted to hate her, too, to let the anger you’d buried beneath your sadness take root and keep you standing tall. But then she went and did this—acting all nice, like nothing had happened. Like you were still just Powder’s best friend, and by extension, her friend too. Like you hadn’t been broken by her absence, her coldness, her silence.
Your mind betrayed you, slipping back to the moments you wished you could share. You wanted to tell her about college. About the awkward first dates Powder still teased you about, the bad ones you couldn’t even laugh about yet. Maybe you even wanted her to tease you, to laugh along, like she used to.
But the thought of wanting that, of still wanting her, stung.
“You sure you’re fine?” she asked, her voice cutting through the haze in your head. It was softer this time, almost tender, and it sent a pang through your chest.
“Just thinking…” you replied, your words trailing off.
“About?”
You .
The thought alone made your jaw tighten and your scowl to deepen, the bitter ache winding tighter around your ribs. Why couldn’t you let it go? Why couldn’t you just move on? You’d told yourself you had. But now, here you were, on this damn rink, feeling every fracture of what had once been, with Vi skating beside you as if she had no idea. She must know.
She must know.
Why was she being so nice? Why was she looking at you like that? Like she cared? She didn’t, not really. If she did, why did she leave? Why did she care so much about what someone else had to say?
Maybe you shouldn’t have come back. Maybe you should’ve stayed with your parents for Christmas. Maybe you should’ve gone to some sunny, beach-side retreat and pretended to enjoy the holidays while being surrounded by strangers.
Shit, maybe you were the problem.
You blinked, startled back to reality by a kid skating too close and brushing against your arm. The rink was alive with motion—kids wobbling precariously as parents held their hands, teenagers zipping by in pairs, the sound of laughter mingling with the scrape of skates on ice. The faint, frosty smell of winter mingled with the warmth of spiced cocoa from the rink’s concession stand.
You took a sharp breath, your focus shifting to Vi, who was already watching you. Her brows were furrowed, a small line forming between them, her concern evident.
As if she cared.
Did she? Could she?
You clenched your fists, willing yourself not to scowl again, not to let her see the turmoil you were struggling to keep buried. You tried to be mature, to play it cool, to remind yourself you were over this. Over her.
“Nothin’,” you muttered, shaking your head.
Vi didn’t press. She just nodded slightly and kept skating beside you, her presence steady but silent.
Ahead, Powder waved with both hands, her grin stretching wide as Isha spun in a shaky circle beside her. Powder’s voice carried over the cold air, calling your names.
You didn’t wave back. You couldn’t. The weight in your chest held you down, rooted you to the ice even as your skates moved forward.
But Vi didn’t leave. She stayed right there, keeping pace with you, her quiet persistence chipping away at the edges of your resolve.
You wonder if you did the same for her.
--
The music was loud—too loud—but that was part of the charm. The thumping bass rattled through your ribcage, shaking you from the inside out, while the floor beneath you trembled with the rhythm of countless feet jumping in sync. You could feel the music in your blood, like a heartbeat that wasn’t your own, each beat pushing you higher, pulling you deeper into the chaos.
You loved to party with Powder.
Her hand was a lifeline, gripping yours tightly as the two of you wove through the throng of swaying bodies, your drinks sloshing in red solo cups that were more a suggestion of something to hold than something to drink. The cheap alcohol inside had long since gone warm, sticky trails of it slipping down your wrists every time you threw your hands up or spun around.
Your hair clung to your damp forehead, strands sticking to the sweat glistening on your skin. Powder looked no different—her eyeliner smeared into dark, uneven crescents beneath her eyes, like war paint after a battle. But she was radiant, her laughter sharp and wild, cutting through the pulsing music like a flash of neon.
“C’mon!” she yelled, tugging you toward the centre of the room where the crowd was thickest. Her grin was wide and manic, a spark of mischief in her eyes that made your chest ache with affection. You couldn’t say no to her, not when she looked like that—like the world couldn’t touch her.
The room itself was a haze of sweat, smoke, and bad decisions waiting to happen. The air was thick with the mingling scents of spilled beer, cheap cologne, and something acrid that burned your nose when you passed too close to certain groups. A strobe light pulsed erratically from one corner, painting everything in flashes of harsh white and deep shadow. It made the room feel surreal, like a dream you’d barely remember in the morning.
The house was somebody’s cousin’s or older sibling’s—or maybe it belonged to no one at all . You didn’t know, and you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were here.
She bumped her shoulder into yours, almost sending you stumbling. “You’re not drinking!” she teased, her voice pitched just loud enough to carry over the music.
You raised your cup in mock defence. “You’re spilling half of mine!”
“Then drink faster!” she shot back, her grin turning sly.
You rolled your eyes but took a chug at it anyway, grimacing at the taste. Powder just laughed, tugging you further into the chaos, her energy infectious even as you tried to keep up.
There was a moment where you’d lost her—not that you minded much. You knew she’d find her way back to you eventually. She always did.
Besides, you’d gotten a little distracted under the gaze of someone across the room. You couldn’t even remember how it started—just a fleeting glance that turned into a shared smile, which turned into them crossing the room and you deciding, what the hell, sure.
They weren’t anyone special. Someone from another school, maybe, or a senior you’d seen hanging around but never talked to. The details didn’t matter. What mattered was that their attention was fixed on you, their grin lazy and inviting as they leaned in, a hand brushing against your arm.
It was messy and awkward in the way these things always are , their mouth too eager, your coordination not quite up to par. The taste of cheap beer and stale cigarettes lingered in the kiss, and you couldn’t decide if it was your inexperience or theirs that made it feel more like bumping noses than anything romantic.
Powder would tease you mercilessly—she always did—and you’d roll your eyes and swear her to secrecy after you told her. But in the moment, you let yourself get caught up in it. The noise of the party faded to a dull hum, the kind that thrummed in the back of your head, as their hands slid to your waist.
They leaned in close, the alcohol on their breath mingling with yours as they bridged the gap, their lips brushing against yours hesitantly at first. You weren’t sure who moved first, whether it was them pulling you closer or you tilting your head to meet them. Either way, the kiss deepened quickly—too quickly—teeth clinking awkwardly at one point before you adjusted.
Their mouth was warm but clumsy, lips pressing against yours with more enthusiasm than skill, and you could feel their inexperience mirrored in your own. Their hands fumbled a little at your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt like they weren’t quite sure what to do next. You tried to follow their lead, letting your hands rise to their shoulders, but your grip felt unsure, awkward.
When they tilted their head, the kiss became messier, more eager than graceful. Their lips parted against yours, warm and a little too wet, and you tried to keep up, to mimic the movements, but there was no rhythm to it—just the reckless energy of two people who didn’t know what they were doing but were too stubborn to stop.
“Really?”
The voice cut through the haze like a slap, sharp and incredulous. You broke apart immediately, turning to find Powder standing a few feet away, hands on her hips and an expression caught between disbelief and amusement.
“This is what you’re doing?” she asked, gesturing vaguely at the two of you. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
Your face flushed, embarrassment flaring hot under your skin as you stepped back, mumbling some excuse that you knew Powder wouldn’t buy. The person you’d been kissing looked equally mortified, scratching the back of their neck and mumbling a quick, “Uh, yeah, I’ll, um… see you around?” before disappearing into the crowd.
Powder’s grin widened, a strange gleam in her eyes as she sauntered up to you. “You’re so bad at that.”
“Shut up,” you muttered, pushing past her, but she caught your arm and spun you back around.
“I was serious ,” she said, her tone softening just a fraction . “Vi’s here.”
The words hit like a splash of cold water, dousing the buzz that had been warming your limbs. Your stomach dropped, and suddenly you were all too aware of the sticky heat lingering on your skin—the faint smudge of spit at the corners of your mouth, the raw sting of bites pressed too hard against your neck.
“She’s back?”
“Don’t sound too excited.”
You swiped at your lips with the back of your hand, a frantic, clumsy motion like you could erase the evidence before anyone else noticed.
Powder didn’t seem to catch you, or if she did, she didn’t comment. She just grabbed your hand and started dragging you toward the front of the house. “C’mon, we gotta go before she murders half the party looking for us.”
And murder she might. Maybe.
You could already picture her at the door, arms crossed, her expression equal parts exasperation and thinly veiled amusement. Vi had always been good at the whole “annoyed older sibling” act.
But when you saw her standing there, one shoulder propped against the doorframe, your breath caught anyway.
Vi had this way of looking like she didn’t belong anywhere but still owned the space around her. Even in the dim light of the doorway, she seemed to cut through the haze of the party with ease. The leather jacket in her hands hung loose and effortless, but it was her—bigger somehow, more solid—that made your pulse quicken. Her pink hair was shorter, darker, sharper, and something else about her seemed...different. More tattoos? A new piercing glinted on her nose, catching the light briefly before she turned her head, scanning the crowd.
She looked so good it hurt.
Or maybe you were still flustered from before. An ache was pounding deep in your stomach.
You tightened your grip on Powder’s hand, steadying yourself as you stumbled along, her swaying weight leaning into yours. The two of you were a mess—heels clicking unevenly on the tiled floor, shoulders bumping into strangers as you made your way to her. Powder looked ready to pass out, her pale green complexion doing nothing to hide the fact she’d be sick before the night was through.
Vi’s sharp gaze locked onto you both the second you came into view, her face twisting briefly in what could only be described as relief, followed quickly by annoyance. Of course, she was annoyed. She hadn’t come home from college to spend her nights wrangling her little sister and her drunk best friend from parties.
It wasn’t the first time Vi had been the one to pull you both out of the fire, though. Not even close. She had always been the responsible one—or, at least, more responsible than the rest of you. Vander’s wrath or your parents’ disappointment might’ve been enough to scare Powder and you straight for a few days, but Vi had a knack for showing up just in time to spare you from both.
Her boots crunched against the gravel outside as she walked you to the car, her jacket already draped over your shoulders by the time you made it to the front step. You always forgot yours, and she always remembered. The leather was heavy and warm, carrying the faint, clean scent of cologne mixed with something distinctly hers.
Powder, ever the louder of the two of you when drunk, sprawled across the back seat with an arm flung dramatically over her face, slurring about something neither of you could make out. Meanwhile, you sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the blurred glow of streetlights streaked across the glass.
“Thanks for getting us,” you mumbled because Powder would never say it.
Vi glanced at you briefly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Don’t mention it.”
And that was it. The way she said it—the casual ease, the softness that bled through despite herself— it left something twisting inside you.
The first time Vi had done this, you’d only felt gratitude. But as the late-night drives stacked up, the weight of her jacket around your shoulders or the faint, grounding pressure of her hand at your back as she helped you to the car had begun to feel...different.
Powder had caught on quicker than you had. One night, lying sprawled in the back seat as she giggled into the darkness, she slurred, “You know, she only comes to get us so she can see you.”
Vi scoffed, her knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “Yeah, because I’m the only one responsible enough to drive your drunk asses home.”
But Powder’s teasing tone, the slight hitch in Vi’s voice, the way her hands flexed against the leather—it all stuck with you. You weren’t sure if it had been real or just the alcohol messing with your head.
Still, every time she came for you, it left another mark—a small, invisible stain that you couldn’t quite scrub clean.
--
You jumped a little when the basement door swung open, hitting the wall with a sharp thud. The footsteps that followed were loud, purposeful, and unmistakable.
Claggor sighed and paused his game, tugging his headphones down around his neck as he turned in his seat. You let your phone fall to your chest, craning your neck to glance over the back of the couch.
“Asshole,” Mylo muttered under his breath, not even bothering to look up. That was all the confirmation you needed to know who had just come downstairs.
Sure enough, Vi appeared, rounding the corner with a smirk that screamed trouble. On her way to the couch, she casually tugged at Mylo’s hair, earning a sharp “Hey!” as she passed. She didn’t even glance back, instead zeroing in on you and Claggor.
She stood in front of you both, her hair a bit of a mess, likely from the hat she’d been wearing earlier. You could still see the faint pink in her cheeks from the cold.
“Be honest,” she said abruptly, scissors in one hand and the other running through her tangled strands. “Should I cut my hair short again?”
You blinked, thrown off. “What?”
Her eyes stayed on you, wide and expectant, and for a moment, you felt like a deer caught in headlights.
You glanced at Claggor for backup, but he was already turning back to his game. “She’s been going on about this for weeks,” he muttered.
“Why cut it?” you asked, your brow furrowing as you looked back at her.
“It’s getting too long. Too much work,” she said, almost defensively, her fingers combing through her hair as if to prove her point.
“More like half the work,” Mylo quipped from his corner, barely hiding his smirk. “Get it? Because half your head is shaved?”
Vi shot him a glare. “Hilarious.”
You could tell she was trying not to let him derail the conversation, her attention snapping back to you. “What do you think?”
You hesitated, unsure how to answer. The scissors in her hand didn’t help; it made the question feel oddly burdened, like your opinion actually mattered more than it should.
Your mind briefly wandered to earlier that afternoon, in the front seat of Vi’s car after Powder claimed the back with her usual cheeky grin. You’d avoided looking directly at Vi, whose raised eyebrows had been impossible to ignore as she glanced at you, then at Powder. Even in that moment, you couldn’t shake the strange awareness of how close you were when she turned the heat up too high.
It was strange, wasn’t it? How she could act so normal, so at ease, while you felt like you were constantly trying to tread water, pretending not to notice the things that lingered between you. Or the things that didn’t.
“I mean… if you want it shorter, just cut it,” you said.
Her lips twitched, not quite a smirk, not quite a frown. “But will I still look good?”
“Since when do you care about that?” Claggor snorted, shaking his head.
“I’ve always cared,” Vi shot back, a hint of indignation in her voice.
“Sure,” Mylo said, not looking up from his snack. “And that whole ‘I just rolled out of bed’ look? Totally intentional, right?”
“ Mylo ,” Vi said sharply, her tone cutting through the banter.
The way she turned back to you felt purposeful, like she was waiting for your response specifically. You felt the weight of her stare, the way her gaze seemed to linger just a second too long.
“I mean…” You shrugged, hoping to brush off the tension. “You’d probably still look good with a buzzcut.”
Vi snorted, finally cracking a grin. “Now that’s an idea.”
“You’re joking, right?” Claggor said, casting a side-eye glance her way.
“Maybe.” She twirled the scissors once before dropping them onto the coffee table with a clatter. Then, to your surprise, she plopped down next to you, stretching her legs out and leaning back against the couch.
Her knee bumped yours lightly, whether by accident or on purpose, you couldn’t tell.
“You’re so weird,” you muttered under your breath, trying to refocus on your phone. But there was a lump in your throat, and the videos on your screen blurred in your mind.
Even as you kept your eyes down, the heat of her presence next to you was impossible to ignore. It felt too close. Too casual. Like none of it ever mattered to her at all.
--
You tried to ignore the way your stomach twisted—half guilt, half elation—when you heard the news. It was petty, and you hated yourself for it. The announcement had come casually, as most bombshells from Powder did, dropped without ceremony in the middle of an otherwise uneventful afternoon.
“Yeah, Vi and Caitlyn called it quits,” Powder said, her voice muffled as she rummaged through your bag in search of snacks.
You froze mid-sentence, your pencil hovering above the textbook you were pretending to study. The words didn’t register at first, too surreal to process. “What? Why?”
Powder shrugged, unbothered. “Something about Vi not being ‘present.’ Caitlyn said they’re too different.”
She popped a piece of candy into her mouth and moved on, oblivious to the way her words had ignited a storm inside you. Your heart raced, an uncontrollable, traitorous thing, and hope flickered somewhere deep in your chest.
It burned too bright and too fast, like a spark catching dry kindling. You tried to snuff it out before it could grow. It wasn’t fair—least of all to Vi.
But it was hard. Harder still when you saw Vi after you heard the news. She was different then. Softer in some ways, quieter. The razor-sharp edge you remembered had dulled, replaced by a weight she carried in her eyes and the tension she held in her shoulders.
She’d laugh and talk with Vander, Mylo, and Claggor, her walls momentarily lowered in the safety of family. You’d catch glimpses of the old Vi then, the one who teased Powder mercilessly and made terrible puns at the dinner table.
On rare occasions, she’d join you, Ekko and Powder in the living room. Powder had a knack for pulling everyone together, dragging you into the fray whether you wanted to be there or not . The four of you would sprawl across the faded, mismatched couches, watching movies or swapping stories like you used to.
Vi usually lingered on the edges, her presence quiet but unmistakable. She didn’t say much, but her gaze would wander, drifting to you when she thought you weren’t paying attention. It was subtle at first —a flicker of her eyes when you laughed too loudly or wrinkled your nose at one of Ekko’s awful jokes. But once you noticed, you couldn’t unsee it.
Sometimes, during movie nights, the couch would become too crowded, and her leg would press against yours. The warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of your jeans would send your mind spiralling, no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself it meant nothing. She was just sitting there, just existing beside you.
But you knew better. You knew because her faint smile when she caught you snorting at something ridiculous lingered too long. Because the way her eyes softened when Powder teased you felt too deliberate. Because no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that she didn’t mean anything, it was a lie you could never fully believe.
And you hated yourself for it.
But more than that, you hated the way you couldn’t stop hoping.
--
You liked to think you were a handy person—decent with a wrench, quick to come up with ideas—but in comparison to Powder, you didn’t stand much of a chance. She wasn’t just handy; she was an artist with gears and circuits. You’d sketch out a vague plan, and she’d take it, run with it, and create something brilliant. That was why the two of you worked so well together: you dreamed, and she built.
The garage smelled like metal and grease, the air cold enough to make your breath fog. You tugged your sleeves down over your hands, shivering slightly as you handed Powder the screwdriver she’d been reaching for.
“Thanks,” she said without looking up, her blue hair glowing faintly under the harsh light of the overhead lamp. She was hunched over her latest college project—a tangle of wires and gears that looked more like a puzzle than a machine.
You scribbled something in your notebook, half notes and half doodles, glancing up every so often to watch her work. This was how most of your “girls’ nights” went: sitting in the garage, Powder building something while you brainstormed or provided moral support. It was the most comfortable kind of silence.
“What is this thing supposed to do again?” you asked, leaning closer to inspect her progress.
“It’s, uh... complicated,” Powder replied, biting her lip as she fiddled with a circuit board. “Basically, it’s gonna make stuff explode, but, like, in a controlled way.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Controlled explosions. Totally safe.”
She laughed, “Don’t worry, I’m a professional. Sort of.”
The two of you fell into an easy rhythm—her working, you passing tools or holding pieces in place when she needed an extra set of hands. It felt good to have something to focus on, something to do with your hands to keep them from trembling.
But as the minutes ticked by, the silence started to stretch, your thoughts creeping in to fill the gaps. You glanced at Powder, her face scrunched in concentration and felt the words bubbling up before you could stop them.
“Powder,” you said hesitantly.
“Mm?” She didn’t look up, her hands steady as she twisted a screw into place.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you something...”
She finally glanced at you, her wide eyes curious. “Yeah? What’s up?”
You hesitated, your heart pounding. “It’s about Vi.”
“Oh.” Powder’s expression shifted into something wary, but she still looked amused. “I think I might know where this is going.”
“You do?”
“You’ve noticed she’s been a real dick lately, yeah?”
You want to nod but Vi has always been a real pain in the ass.
“It’s because she’s been hanging out with Caitlyn again.”
That was nowhere near what you were expecting to hear.
“What?”
“Yeah, something about Caitlyn helping her find a new job or something.”
“Oh,” you said, your throat tightening. “That’s... nice of her.”
“I guess. But you know I’ve never liked her much. She makes Vi act out all the time. It’s weird. You know what she said to me the other day? She said I should focus on stuff that matters, like my ‘actual life,’ whatever that means.” Powder rolled her eyes, her voice taking on a mocking tone. “‘Stop blowing things up, Powder. Stop wasting your time, Powder.’ Something about me being worth more than that or whatever. Like she’s one to talk.”
You forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to your own ears. “She’s just worried about you.”
“Yeah, well, she’s got a crappy way of showing it.” Powder’s hands stilled for a moment, her expression clouding over. “She doesn’t even tell me what’s going on with her anymore. She just... disappears, and when she does show up, she acts like she’s got everything figured out. It’s so annoying. I mean, yeah, they ended on good terms or whatever, but she’s just... spreading a bad vibe around.”
You smiled weakly. “Bad vibe?”
“You know the vibe. It’s obviously bothering you since you brought it up.”
You didn’t stop to tell her that wasn’t what you’d meant.
“Oh, my god,” she added, setting down her tools. “And did you know Caitlyn’s with Maddie now?”
“Maddie? From fucking high school?”
“Yeah, isn’t that crazy?”
“What the hell?”
“Right? That’s what I said! And Vi’s been all moody about it too. See what I mean? Caitlyn brings nothing but trouble.”
You couldn’t help but wonder how much Powder knew about what was going on with Vi. There had been so many blanks in the last few months that you were struggling to put everything together.
“I think Vi’s just mad that her sorry ass got dumped,” Powder added, shrugging.
“What?”
“You never heard this from me though. Vi would kill me if she found out I kill you of all people but... she was seeing someone last summer—she didn’t tell me who—and then it just stopped. She’s been an asshole since. A bigger asshole than she used to be. Serves her right.” Powder grinned, her tone light despite the sting of her words. “And yeah, it’s harsh, but I can say it because she’s my sister.”
You looked away, guilt clawing at your insides. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Powder glanced back at you. “Anyway, did you want to tell me something?”
Your heart stuttered, the weight of your unspoken thoughts pressing down on you like a heavy hand. You opened your mouth, the words trembling on the tip of your tongue, a silent dare you couldn’t quite take. What if this moment shattered, splintered into something jagged and irreparable?
“Uh, yeah,” you said finally, your voice more breathless than you intended. “Just wanted to say thanks for inviting me for the holidays.”
Powder frowned, turning to you fully, “What are you talking about? You always spend Christmas with us.”
You forced a laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “I know. I know, it’s just...” The words tangle themselves in your throat. You screw your eyes shut for a moment, decided to be honest at least. She deserved at least that. “Ever since college started, I feel like I haven’t been the greatest friend in the world.”
“What are y—”
“You know it’s true,” you interrupted, the words rushing out in a jumble as if you might lose the courage to say them if you hesitated. “I haven’t called half as much, and I keep making excuses. It’s not that I don’t want to see you, it’s just... I don’t know.”
Powder set the screwdriver down, her blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not ,” you insisted, the crack in your voice betraying the guilt you’d carried for so long.
“It is ,” she said firmly, her voice taking on the same determined edge she used when defending her inventions from criticism. “Don’t you remember how I used to lash out when high school started? You put up with so much shit from me back then.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the turn in the conversation. “Yeah.”
“Man, I was fucking psycho,” she continued with a wry grin, leaning back on her hands.
“I wouldn’t say that,” you replied, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.
“I would,” she said, laughing softly. “I’m surprised you’re still friends with me after all that. I would’ve dumped me in a heartbeat.”
“Of course I’m still friends with you,” you said. “I love you, Pow.”
She tilted her head, her expression softening into something warm and familiar. “Love you too.”
For a moment, the weight in your chest eased, the tension unravelling as her laughter echoed through the garage. Maybe someday, you’d find the right moment to tell her the rest of it—the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say now. Maybe after a drink or two for courage, when the words wouldn’t stick so hard in your throat, you’d tell her everything. And maybe she’d laugh, the same bright, fearless laugh that always pulled you back from the edge.
But not now. Not yet.
part two
#this is so toxic#vi’s gauntlets#arcane#arcane x reader#vi x reader#arcane fluff#arcane vi#arcane imagines#arcane headcanon#vi arcane#vi fluff#arcane fanfic#vi x you#vi arcane x reader#arcane x female reader#tattoo artist vi#wlw fanfic#vi league of legends#violet arcane#vi#arcane vi x reader#vi arcane smut#vi fanfic#vi smut#vi fanart#league of legends#arcane smut#league of legends smut#vi x y/n#faye’s writing ⭑.ᐟ
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⋆ ambessa headcanons but it's a modern au & she's a ruthless business mogul.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/a49411663b9602340687b7ac256a4052/3e6f0ad7d5e48414-32/s540x810/5b8e523a6562d0e36ccd4f51a51618422ad47aee.jpg)
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business mogul!ambessa x wife!reader. men & minors dni.
synopsis: what it says on the tin.
cw: implied age difference! explicit sexual content below the cut!
notes: i need her. i am going to lose it. the theme of this marriage is definitely cherry by lana del rey ( listen here. ) and bordersz by zayn ( listen here. )
getting together
one night, a little tipsy and feeling bold, you post a video to social media. you don’t care about the controversy, you declare—you need ambessa so badly.
despite the chaos that follows, your words are so heartfelt, so sweet, that the video practically goes triple platinum overnight.
later, at a restaurant opening, you both happen to be there. she spots you sitting in a corner, all soft warmth and radiant energy.
you look lovely, your wide smile lighting up the room. she notices how your nose scrunches when you laugh and how your dress—loaned as a favor to a designer you adore—dips elegantly at your hips.
with a little... maneuvering, ambessa secures the seat next to you and strikes up a conversation.
you’re so vivacious, so intelligent, and for the first time in a long time, she meets someone who doesn’t greet her with judgment or disapproval.
when you speak, you lean in, your hand occasionally brushing her arm. you’re so intentional, and it utterly endears her to you.
after the event, she goes home haunted by your perfume and the sound of your laughter.
the next morning, her PA reaches out with a dinner invitation to one of your dream restaurants. ambessa had spent the night scrolling through your socials, watching videos over and over.
the married life.
you’ve become a media darling—everyone adores you.
sometimes, ambessa can’t handle sharing you with the world, so she’s left her mark: photos of you often feature dark hickeys blooming across your neck like wildflowers.
your ring is massive, but she insisted you pick it out yourself—she wanted to make sure it was exactly what you wanted.
you call her “bessa,” and she alternates between “my love,” “baby,” or “sweet girl” when speaking to you.
when you leave for trips, whether for work or to visit family, she secretly diffuses perfume oils that mimic your scent throughout the house.
the playlist you share is ridiculously long—so long, in fact, it almost crashed your phone once, but neither of you care.
her desk is cluttered with framed photos of you, and your house has a photo wall that stretches up the staircase.
even when she’s annoyed or upset, she’s impossibly soft with you.
she gets genuinely upset if you don’t use her card to make purchases. like pissed.
“you will want for nothing” was one of the first promises she made to you.
you have to sneak birthday and christmas gifts for her because she always checks to make sure you’re spending her money “as the Lord intended.”
“i didn’t add this card to your apple wallet for decoration.”
she’s deeply affectionate, both in public and private.
she adores nonsexual intimacy—massaging your feet as you tell her about your day, pulling you into her lap while she works, and just sitting quietly together.
when you cup her face during conversations to focus her, it often leads to... wonderful outcomes.
if she catches you pouting, she pinches your lips into a duckbill and laughs. you let it slide because her laughter is so full-bodied, so infectious, you can’t help but love it.
her humor is so dry and witty it takes you a minute to register sometimes, but when you do, you’re in stitches.
she’s always close—sharing water, joining you in baths and showers. you’re rarely apart.
ambessa loves to provide for you. she’s your dictionary, bank account, calculator, calendar, dild—
her gift-giving is unmatched. she remembers things you mentioned wanting years ago, down to the minute you said it. it could've been mentioned 6 years, 2 months, 3 days, 1 hour, 6 minutes, and 23 seconds ago. she still remembers.
she keeps a lawyer on retainer because you’re fiercely protective of her. she acts exasperated but secretly loves it.
if you get sick, she’s terrifying—she’ll track down whoever got you sick and sue them into the ground. when you had pneumonia once, she nearly had a breakdown. it is now referred to as the crashout of the century in your household.
she’s serious about keeping you healthy, even if it drives you crazy. workouts with her are intense.
“just a little more, my love.” “you said that two rounds ago!"
her countdowns are the worst. she swears there’s ten seconds left, but it feels like eternity.
speaking of households, you don’t play when it comes to your family.
you’re fiercely protective and, let’s be honest, a little conniving when necessary.
the pta? you run it like the navy. everyone falls in line when you walk in the room.
once, a kid at mel’s school thought it was a good idea to bully her. you pulled up, found the kid, and made sure they’d never even think about messing with her again.
after that, everyone was a little afraid of mel and kino’s stepmom. you never heard another peep of bullying.
when it's good—it usually is—it's wonderful. but there were compliated moments in the beginning.
ambessa’s rise to the top wasn’t exactly clean. there were deals in shadows, strategies that left her enemies ruined. you should’ve felt more conflicted, but you found it difficult to care.
but then she announced she was running for office, and everything changed. you hated what she was doing to win—how ruthless she was, how far she was willing to go.
it led to the biggest fight you’d ever had. you left, heartbroken, and stayed with your parents for weeks.
mel had never seen her mother so undone. ambessa was quiet, distracted, a shadow of herself.
mel flew out to see you, desperate to fix things. when you saw her, the grief on her face mirrored your own, and it shattered you.
you forgave ambessa immediately—not because she was blameless, but because you hated what it had done to both of you.
she will always choose you and the kids above anything.
the marriage bed.
it's a workout in here, too.
she gon’ put that baby inside of you.
you are a bit of a perfectionist and stressed about doing it wrong and she literally could not have cared less.
she loves to lace your hands together when you fuck.
the first couple times you sleep together she treats your body like a land she needs to learn, to map.
she prefers to be dominant but sometimes you just need it and she allows you to take control.
you adore her strength and you are not slick about it because your favorite positions reflect it: mating press and amazon press, specifically.
she’s a munch and she likes humiliating you so that usually entails spreading the lips of your pussy to watch it drool for her, spiting into your cunt, pushing your legs out or up so that it’s completely bare to her.
you're enamored with her breasts.
even outside of sex sometimes you just squeeze or hold them.
she says you’re being ridiculous but then will take off her top and reveal the most insanely tight sports bra. her tits are practically spilling into your mouth all on their own.
you can no longer go to the gym with her bc it will get crazy.
impact play.
straps you down. you are not walking for at least two days.
once she begins, she will be finishing. no breaks. so don't tease unless you can commit.
will most definitely keep fucking you even she gets a work call + sometimes if you try to be quiet she’ll loop a hand under the thin fabric of your g-string and bounce you fast and hard on her cock until you’re moaning shamlessly.
you love kissing her so she’ll make out with you until your lips are so swollen and your words are slurred.
the best sex you had was in the bathtub one evening.
you were slipping and sliding but a swat team couldn’t have pulled her out of you.
you held onto her tightly, felt her back ripple, and to this day you swear you saw the gates of heaven. you knew if you came to be before them without her, you'd hold the gates to let her in.
she’s always telling you to take it and forces you to look at the ring you’re making around her cock.
when you’re ass up she’ll consume you until you’re shaking.
she loves making you squirt; it’s like a challenge for her.
when it happens she’ll drop her mouth open and moan so loudly it makes you flush.
she then begins to finger you and the overstimulation really works you up.
she loves to put you on your side with a leg raised so she can snap her hips hard against your ass and hear the squelch.
you love when she does this because her tits are against your back and she’s just so fucking big and warm. you feel safe.
you’re usually so sweet but during these moments you curse like a sailor.
“fuck fuck fuuuuuck. holy shit, bessa.” “such a dirty girl.”
one thing about her fingers? they’re going in your mouth and you’re gonna gag on them.
super thoughtful with aftercare.
massages every part of your body and intersperses the pressure with tender kisses.
you always fall asleep to affirmations of how beautiful and loved you are.
you are her angel, fallen and found by her hands.
© hcneymooners.
#ambessa x you#ambessa x reader#ambessa medarda#arcane ambessa#ambessa league of legends#wlw smut#lesbian#sapphic#rough smut#arcane smut#arcane headcanon#headcanons#mine ; 🐎.#mel medarda#kino medarda#female!reader#f!reader
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#— imsogirlkisser blogie!! ⊹₊⟡⋆#in my delulu mind she’sagirlkisser#jinx arcane#arcane#i love headcanons#arcane league of legends#arcane season two#jinx#jinx fanart#jinx league of legends#league of legend art#vi and jinx#jinx x reader#jinx lol#arcane smut#arcane season 2#arcane series#arcane netflix#jinx and caitlyn#wlw post#wlw blog#wlw#wlw smut#lesbian#bisexual#jinx x you#jinx x fem!reader#jinx smut
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It’s Time You Switch
ʚ pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader
ʚ word count: 4.4k words
ʚ prompt: “Fuck your boyfriend, he a bitch. I think it’s time you switch.”
ʚ warnings: RPF!! , smut!!, voyeurism, dirty talk?, face riding, fingering, oral reader!receiving, basically porn with little plot
ʚ rimunagenius speaks: in which Paige turns straight girls ;) i have not written smut since my wattpad era so im sooo insanely rusty but i also have never felt the touch of a woman romantically sooo idek if this will be any good…suggestions are welcome to make it better!! and for future works!!
| Masterlist | Women’s Basketball Masterlist |
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4b621f35e99fdb0dc31f5b5cc047e1bd/675699cdc2c20fcd-31/s540x810/d352f140e8a04e79c48cc9c7e14ef72474d9136d.jpg)
"I don't know what I did to him, though. That's what I can't let go. He's being so dry and cold." You told the team as you did dynamic warm up before practice started.
Coach G just shook his head, listening to all your guy problems. This was just another boy for him to hate on campus. At this rate, the whole male and female population at UConn was on his shit list.
"I say, you dump him." KK said, patting your back mid walking lunge. "He's been doing this for months now, it's time to drop him, girl boo.” You told KK a lot of things. She was just a freshman but she become a quick and good friend.
You met her in a class you had been taking and started talking, soon finding out you were both on the same team. It shocked her, but after finding out you stayed off social media, the press release of her committing was new news. You were a senior and she was a freshman, but this friendship was like you two knew eachother forever.
"Yeah, I agree with K." Paige said, from the other side of you. A soft, comforting smile on her face.
"You know what could fix this? A girls night." Aaliyah smiled, her eyebrows wiggling suggesting you guys go out.
"I know you're not planning to go out, get drunk on the night before a game." Coach yelled from his seat on the bench.
"But Coach, c'mon! My girls feeling sad." Paige feigned a pout, grabbing your shoulders and pointing your face, you pouting your lips and batting your lashes.
"Nah, it's okay. I don't really want to go out anyways. Staying in is the move." You sighed, the stretching finished.
You talked about it all practice—sad about it all practice. After, Paige suggested you come over to her place, a sleepover. You begrudgingly agreed. Telling her she needed to take you home to get some clothes; Paige shutting it down because you could borrow hers.
That was the first mistake. It didn't feel like a mistake in the end but that was the first step to a very confusing day afterwards. The second, sharing a bed with the blonde.
You both decided to lay in her bed, get fat on snacks, and watch all the movies you could before getting sleepy and tapping out for the night. I guess Paige had another tapping in mind.
"You know he doesn't deserve you so why do you stay with him?" Paige disregarded the movie, turning her head slightly to look at you.
"He does deserve me, he's just struggling, I guess." You shrugged your shoulders, dwelling on the fact that you couldn't figure out what he was actually struggling with.
"Fuck your boyfriend. He's a bitch for the way he's acting with a pretty girl like you." Paige got passionate about defending her friends. Especially when someone in their life wasn't treating them right. She was more of a protector. A fierce one.
"Paige, that's a little mean."
"It's true. It's time you switched. I'm telling you, girls are so much less complicated. They're easier to read and better at communicating." Paige smirked to you, knowing you wouldn't shoot for it.
"Please, if I knew how, I would." You rolled your eyes, looking down, shoving a potato chip in your mouth.
Paige's eyes went wide. There's no way you were actually serious. You looked like the straightest of straight girls, a very attractive one. Which is why she thought it sucked you didn't swing that way. "No way, are you serious?" She laughed.
"Yeah, but I dont even think I like girls like that." You furrowed your brows. You never actually thought about it. You had no idea if the "girl crushes" you had were actually crushes.
"What does that mean?"
"Like, I've seen girls and thought they were super attractive. I'd wonder what it'd be like to kiss them, and I used to say i’d treat them better than their actual boyfriends, but I didn't think that far." That set it off for Paige. That's how it started. First you thought about what it'd be like to kiss a girl, then to date, and then to fuck.
"Have you ever thought about dating them?" Paige already knew where this was going.
"Yeah sort of. But I was always with him that it was whatever." You looked to Paige.
"Well it's time you switch." She smiled smugly at you, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm down to show you how." That was the most forward Paige had ever been with a girl. She knew it was swaying you, the contemplation clouding your vision, deep in thought.
"What do you mean 'show me'? Like how to fuck?" Your brows furrowed as you questioned the blonde beside you.
"That's exactly what I mean..." Paige's eyes watched yours, waiting for the green light.
"Okay." Suddenly the air in your lungs disappeared when Paige grabbed your face and kissed you deeply. She wanted this for so long. You and her had been bestfriends all throughout your childhood. She had even told Geno he couldn't give her an offer without giving you one. Your skills in basketball were exceptional, your work ethic and athleticism and ability to work with people around you. You and Paige made a great team.
She had admired everything about you for as long as she could remember. She was just waiting on you. You moaned into the kiss, opening your legs so she could slot her body between yours, achieving the best angle to kiss you.
Something in you felt like this was all muscle memory. Like you two have done this before. Her hands moved to your hips, her grip firm but so soft. You two kicking the snacks off the bed, not caring about the mess that was to be made.
"Imma take your clothes off...that okay?" Paige's lips trailed down the collumn of your neck, moaning at the sensation your body sparked throughout her body.
"Yeah, okay. Please." Instantaneously Paige's fingers dropped the the waistband of your pajama shorts, and the waistband of your underwear. The feeling of lace pulling a groan from the blondes throat. Ridding you of your pants and underwear, her hand grabbed the hem of your shirt—her shirt, sliding it up.
You sat up, pulling it off, panting softly. You couldn't believe this was happening. The least you expected from this sleepover was hooking up with your bestfriend, in her bed, on a friday night. You then grabbed Paige's face, needing her lips on yours like you were a woman starved.
Paige was a sweetheart; a golden retriever, kind, and good person...but when it came to her game, on and off the court, she was literally a cocky fuck boy who could prove they could get into your pants. She was a respectful woman, one of the best even, but the second mutual interest was involved; game over.
While making out, her hand cupping your breast over the padding of your bra, the only clothing you seemed to have on left, she bit your bottom lip, slightly tugging on it with her teeth. Your back arched, moaning at the sensation she was able to wash your body in, she quickly unclasped your bra, sliding the straps off when you were flat on your back.
Having the soft skin of yours exposed, she slowed her movements, dodging your face when you tried to kiss her again. "Show me how he got you off." The sentence shocked you.
"Huh?" You looked at her, her eyes having the same challenging look. She knew she'd do ten times better than he ever could. Plus, it helped that her anatomy and your anatomy were the same...meaning, she knew where everything was.
"You heard me, show me what he did for you, so I can show you that I can do it better." Her long hair falling on her shoulders, she slid her Huskies t-shirt off, leaving her in a black sports bra.
You shifted on the bed, nervous but willing. She already had you naked, you were already so wet so you knew when you try and fail to get yourself off like how your ex did, she'd make it better. Paige always made it better.
You reached your hand down, sliding your fingers through your soaking wet cunt, gathering as much as your slick as possible, gasping softly. The feeling of your fingers ghosting your clit, you remembered that you were supposed to be doing this how he did, so you disregarded the spot your body ached and pleaded for physical contact, and jumped straight to inserting two fingers.
You looked at Paige, a look in her eyes you've never seen before. "Wait, he didn't even—?" She was confused but really focused nonetheless. You knew she wasn't really paying attention to what you were doing, she was; she was literally getting soaked at watching you play with yourself, but she just couldn't take her eyes off your pretty pussy. She would never be your 'friend' again after tonight.
You shook your head at her question and continued in fingering your self, curling your fingers at the right spots, maintaining the even yet somewhat hasty pace. Your panting started to get louder, your eyes fluttering closed every now and again. Slowly coaxing yourself to your high, you spread your legs wider, reaching your hand out, signaling Paige you wanted her to grab your hand.
She placed her hand in yours and she was immediately pulled on top of you, your mouth finding hers. Your hand never wavered in the work you were doing on yourself, which is why Paige swallowed the loud moan induced by your orgasm, as you slowly started to slow the rhythm of your fingers, riding out the small orgasm.
You don't know why you did it, you only were conscious of it after you had placed the fingers that were previously inside of you, into her mouth. Your jaw slack, jus a tiny bit, watching and feeling her lick your fingers, swallowing any trace of your she can hope to find. You couldn’t believe you were behaving like this. So dirty but so willing.
Paige moaned at the action, not trying to deny that what you had done could've made her come alone. She started to drag her lips from yours, to the corner of your lips, to your cheek, all the way to and down your neck, sloppy and lazy but sensual kisses were left in her wake.
She wouldn't dare leave any marks behind, your guys' team would calculate what went down her tonight. So she settled for non-visible hickeys. When her lips met your breasts, she took her sweet time with both. Her tongue swirling around your taught nipple, her free hand kneeding the other.
Your back was already arching off the bed, hands tugging at the sheets below you. The soft cries leaving your lips egging her on.
She moved across the other breast, a trail of purple and red trailing the way, her hand switched places. You couldn't take this...you needed her somewhere else. You loved this but holy was she dragging it out.
Before you could even ask—beg, her to move where you were so desperately wanting her, her hand was already spreading your leg open, lips following a foreign, yet so familiar path, all the way down to the curve of your thighs.
She started slowly, opting to tease you, but also educate you like she promised. You understood the significance of foreplay, hell you craved it in your evidently clear soon to be previous relationship, but you couldn't take the ache your pussy had for Paige. It's like it knew you needed her all along. It didn't help that you hated the prolonged attention, but also loved it. Watching her worship your body was something so unexplainably attractive.
The way she slowly placed soft kisses from your knees, massaging the soft skin of your calf's along the way, all the way up your thigh. The closer her lips got to your center, the more antsy you became. You needed her mouth to connect already. You couldn't take it anymore.
"Oh, my god. Paige...please." You sighed, your panting growing more and more viscous.
"Please what, gorgeous?" Her lips ghosted over your wet folds as she moved to the other leg, now blatantly teasing the fuck out of you, while she smiled and kissed every expanse she could.
"Please just eat my pussy already. I can't take it." You almost cried begging her to finally do something. She had you masturbate infront of her for christ sake.
"Whatever you want." She looked into your eyes, her pupils blown, a blissed out smile and haze on her face. Almost immediately after, her face disappeared in between your legs. Paige licked a stripe up your soaking cunt, from the entrance all the way to the most sensitive nerve ending.
The sound that escaped your mouth was borderline pornographic as the built up arousal finally was being tended to. The feeling of her slick tongue running one more stripe through your folds before swirling around your clit was something you absolutely could not imagine. Your mind in a foggy mess.
"You taste so sweet, baby." The name leaving her mouth ignited fuzziness that you felt in your toes all the way to your scalp. Her voice hoarse, mouth glistening from you, you could never get this sight out of your head; nor did you want to.
"Ohhhh, my god." It came out like a pure cry. The choked moans mixed with tears and strained sobs, elicited a newfound hunger in Paige.
Her mouth doing double time, her tongue swirling and licking perfectly paced, her lips sucking and kissing all the right places at the right time, started to build up the coil in your belly. The feeling growing more and more intense the more she praised you from between your legs. "You're doing so good for me, baby." You couldn't even breathe.
The coil snapping, the tension in your belly now releasing, a gushing mess now painted Paige's gorgeous face, your mouth agape.
You couldn't help but scream...almost. Your moan so loud, Paige covered your mouth with her hand. "Shh, don't want the neighbors to hear." Paige panted softly in your ear, before cracking the signature smirk.
The smugness she had while she saw the aftermath of what seemed to be the best orgasm you have ever had in your life. Your breathing still shallow, your chest heaving, the pattern of the way it rises and falls mesmerizes Paige. Her ego being fed tremendously watching the way you fell apart just by her going down on you.
She couldn't help but want to brag to your ex that he couldn't even make you feel half of what she just did. The accomplishment of getting you to look like this in her bed, your breath fanning over her face as she hovered over you, the accomplishment in having you like this, with her in her bed, was truly a miracle.
Paige loved it. She could go this whole night just fulfilling your needs, showing you everything you missed out on in your pointless one sided relationship. She intended to.
"Oh, my god. That was—" You stopped, your breath finally returning. "That was fucking amazing." You looked at the blonde who seemed to be content watching you fall apart.
The smugness on her face but the adoration of you being here, pure evidence that she was enjoying every second of it. "It was. Didn't know you were a screamer." The cocky Paige returned, forgetting keeping the moment remotely intimate. You smacked her arm that rested next to your body, and grabbed her face and kissed her.
You caught her off guard, her mouth open due to a small gasp, and took that as your chance to slide your tongue in her mouth. You two made out like horny teenagers. You two weren't that far from being teenagers, that was only a couple years ago, but you two made eachother feel like two young kids, absolutely enamored with the idea of each other that you couldn't get off of eachother.
You two made out, you slowly turning yourself so you could be on top. Paige knew what you were trying to do, allowing you to take control for now. You oulled apart, looking down at her, picturing this, saving it for the foreseeable future. Chasing your lips, Paige grabbed your face, pulling you into a deepening kiss. You two literally couldn't get enough of eachother.
Before you could even get the rest of Paige's clothes off, she grabbed your hips that were resting on hers, and pulled them forcefully over towards her chest. You gasped and yelped, suprised at the sudden force she was using. Hesitant to follow, you saw her hungry gaze go between your eyes and your now—again, soaking cunt.
There was no way. "Paige, no. Don't even think about it." You warned, a small intimidating look. It normally had an affect on Paige on the court, knowing when she saw it, you talked a big game and backed it up. But right now, in the bedroom, you were hers and she had the control.
Tonight was to show you what you were missing out on, and how to get a girl going. There was no way she'd let you have the control, no matter how much she wanted it. She'd save that for another night. Maybe she was getting too ahead of herself, but there was going to be another night with you.
"What are you talking about?" The smugness returned, along with a feigned clueless look. You couldn't take her serious with the fact that your thighs were damn near putting her in a chokehold, her hands inching you closer and closer to where she wanted you...where she wanted you to sit, preferably.
"Paige, i'm not about to sit on your face." You tried scooting back, forgetting that Paige was actually stronger than you. The ferocity in which she pulled your hips, your pussy ghosting her lips at the force and aim in which she yanked you, a small gasp escaped your sealed lips.
You yanked your hips back, giving her a pointed look. "I was trying to literally fuck you, not trying to sit on your face. Let me make you feel good, baby." Paige knew she could get away with calling you baby, you probably weren't thinking much of it when she said it. But Paige said it with conviction, just the way you did right now.
The name only egged her on when you used it in this context. The only context Paige wanted to hear it in. "Your making me feel good by letting me make you feel good. I promise i'm fine, I just want you to sit this pretty pussy on my face. Will you let me?" Her eyes sincere, the smirk playing on her lips slowly convincing you by the second.
"You promise?" You whispered, suddenly conforming to the blonde underneath you. Something about the way she talked easily convinced you.
"Yeah. Promise." You stared down at her, unsure. Not wanting to crush her, your thighs being pretty full, the muscle you've built over the years, and just the general size being something you've been insecure about since you were a little girl. She knew that.
That's why when she saw the look on your face, she kissed your thighs. In whatever spot she could reach. She gave you a reassuring nod, smile on her face. Albeit you didn't know what kind—cocky or comforting. Either way, when she said what she did, you immediately obeyed.
"Sit on my face." You then moved both knees eye level with Paige, falling back slightly, your pussy ghosting her lips again. The second you put your full weight on her face, her mouth got to work.
The sensation and new angle elicited some explicit sounds. 'Didn't know you were a screamer' kept replaying in your head when you tried to quiet down the moans only Piage seemed to be able to pull from you, escaped your lips.
Her hands cupped your ass, pressing your body down impossibly closer and harder into her face. She seemed to be pushing so hard, you were scared you were going to suffocate her. Her tongue teased your entrance, swiftly ghosting in and out of it, before lapping at your folds and clit perfectly.
She ate you like a woman starved. Like if this was her last meal. You had enjoyed every second of this exchange. You reached your hand down slowly, softly moving your hand in slow circles on your clit, overstimulating yourself.
Paige took notice of your fingers now getting to work, a gravely groan reverberating into your wet pussy as she looked up at you, and quickly closing her eyes in bliss. She decided that since you wanted to touch yourself, she'd slide a finger or two into you. To really get you going. Wasn’t the most ideal positioning but she was going to make it work.
Her head bobbed subtly, effectively getting her tongue into the small space where her fingers were about to make an appearance. Inserting one finger, Paige watched, felt, and listened to the way your body reacted to her movements.
Using each reaction to her advantage. The small gasp you let out when she inserted herself into you, the way your breathing reluctantly changed pace, so she inserted another, noticing how your breath picked up. That's when she curled her fingers methodically to the pace she set for herself, matching the pace you set while you continued rubbing circles in your clit.
It didn't take long for Paige to brung you closer to the edge while her tongue picked up the slack for your fingers. You stopped your movements and let her do the work, she could tell it was good by the volume your pants and moans were sounding. She was working overtime while you ran your hand over her hair, eventually looking for another anchor to grip to while you violently come undone by your best friend. "Oh, my god. Right there. Don't stop." You panted, your jaw dropped.
Your legs started to shake, Paige's pace relentless while she finger fucked you in her bed, while she simultaneously ate you out. This wasn't the way you expected to spend your night, and neither did Paige, but holy fuck was it worth it.
"Don't you dare stop—Oh!" The coil snapped once again, a guttural cry and moan left your lips. You swore that any person who was passing by Paige's apartment would've thought you were filming porn. The moans you moaned were insane and absolutely the biggest turn on for Paige. She wouldn't lie and say she didn't already get off on just hearing you.
Yeah, she worked at you, and saw your oh so pretty parts, but listening to the affect she had on you, the comparison made between her and your ex and the ego boost that came with it, were just the perfect amount to get her off on just pleasuring you for the last two hours.
Your breath uneven, slowly moving your legs away from her face, your chest still heaving. She chuckled softly, before looking over to you, while you laid yourself next to her. "That's how it's done, baby." Paige held her hand up, trying to signal a high five.
You looked at her blankly, her seeing the absolute fucked our face you had, and then pulled you closer to her. Your body resting against hers; the stark contrast of your overheated body, compared to her cold and cool body.
The contrast easing the overwhelmed feeling you harbored just a little easier. "You did so good for me, baby. You looked so hot while I made you come. Couldn't believe it." You smacked her chest, feeling a little cringed that she had to see you and all the faces you could've made while you had the most earth shattering orgasms.
"Paige. Oh my god, stop." You laughed, she did too, You two laid there for a minute before she broke the silence.
"You're not going back to him, right?" Her voice now withdrawn from the cockiness and confident undertones, and just pure nerves and concern. She hoped you'd say no. That you'd choose to stay with her, and tell her he was just there until you realized your feelings for her were the same as the ones she's had for you all these years.
"No, I'm breaking up with him tomorrow. You think i'd go back to him, when he couldn't do half the shit you did with your tongue alone? Yeah, right." You looked up at Paige, your bestfriend. You couldn't believe this is what your relationship evolved to in a matter of two hours.
"Soo, that means..." Paige was hopeful. She just wanted you to say what she's been wanting to say for years.
"Let's date. I love you, you obviously love me," She looked away, embarrassed, and playfully pushed you away. You grabbed her arm, pulling her back so she could look you in the eyes. "Do you want to be my girlfriend? Serious."
"Serious. I'll be your girlfriend. Finally." Paige kissed you, slowly. Melting into eachother, the weight of the new relationship status now sinking in. You two were ecstatic.
You decided to clean up, showering, again, her inevitably joining you. When you both settled and were ready for bed. Too tired and fucked out to continue the movie—restart the movie—you two had started a while ago, it was quiet and dark in the room when Paige suddenly whispered, "I knew you weren't straight."
"Paige, got to sleep! Oh my god." You chuckled before smacking her with the pillow under your head.
"Jeez! Sorry! But I called it."
#tumblrpost#writers on tumblr#rimunagenius speaks#women’s basketball#wbb x reader#wbb#wcbb#wcbb x reader#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers smut#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#uconn x reader#uconn wbb x reader#wlw masterlist#sapphic wlw#wlw fanfic#wlw headcanons#wlw yearning#wlw smut#wlw ns/fw#wlw post#wlw blog#wlw
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for the blorbo who suggested wlw wangxian, FEAST YOUR EYES
#wangxian#wei ying#wei ying x lan zhan#lan zhan#lan wangji#wei wuxian#mdzs#the untamed#mo dao zu shi#wlw#Wangxian fanart#Wangxian wlw#Wangxian art#mdzs art#mdzs fanart#MXTX mdzs#mdzs au#mdzs headcanons#mdzs fanfiction#wangxian au#Wangxian fanfiction
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pitfighter vi who promises reader just the tip and then gives her the whole strap🫶🫶🫶
𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐏
vi making you take the whole strap
WARNINGS: NONCON! Dead Dove Do Not Eat, virginity loss, coercion, dacryphilia, spit play, implied corruption kink, bulging, be safe, heed warnings!
from roselí. ᡣ𐭩 : i am so in love with this idea omg omg omg— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i got carried away, so the ending is abrupt. ^^
Vi would just be going against her better judgment here, like she usually does about… everything.
"...Are you sure this is what you want, baby?"
She’d asked gently as she leaned down and whispered into your ear, her breath warm as it hit your skin. Vi's hands moved up and down your sides slowly, her body pressed against yours. She let out a something like a huff of a laugh through her nose at your whispered, ‘Yes… But— you remember our promise, right?’ It was something about that, that made you think, maybe you should’ve known better.
She promised a few nights ago that she would indulge your request of losing your virginity. She was close, trusted— you’d had no problem confessing it to her and she’d made you feel comfortable and safe in her presence. You didn’t want to lose it to just anybody, but you wanted to have the experience. “Just the tip.” She’d initially meant it as a joke. Just a lighthearted statement to loosen you up a bit, but she was taken aback when you’d eagarly nodded in agreement, holding her to that statement.
Vi chuckled lowly at you, your nervousness and anticipation was so cute and endearing. She leaned down, her body hovering over yours, her mass pressing you to the matress. She could feel your heart beating fast, it was exciting. She took a moment to relish in this moment, her lips moving down to your neck, kissing and biting at it softly. "You're so cute, you know that?" She whispered against your skin between kisses, gently biting and suckling the sensitive flesh on your neck. You could make out every strand of inky black hair on her head.
“Vi—”
“You’re nervous, huh?”
You swallowed thickly, trying to push down the nerves that were making it hard to breathe. “Yes.”
"Try to relax, it'll feel better." She murmured, finally sitting up straight, gripping the thick— almost daunting strap in her fist. She’d told you she had nothing smaller, that this was all she could offer you. She placed a large palm right above your pussy, pressing firmly to keep your hips still. “Ready for it?” she locked eyes with you, nudging the tip against your clit, slapping it there a few times. You nodded shakily, holding her gaze with anticipation.
“Words.”
“Yes I’m ready…” It came out shaky, like you were riding a bike on a rocky path. She nods curtly, her gaze falling to your pussy, all spread nicely for her. She taps the tip against your clit a few more times, enjoying the way you gasp softly before slowly tilting the tip downwards to your hole.
It started out subtle, a stinging sensation that slowly built up— but it spread quickly as she pushed further, your hole struggling to accommodate to her size. It felt like being ripped open, the girth of it pushing upwards of your blatter. Your back lifted off the bed. “O-ouch!—” You let out a soft yelp, grasping her hip tightly as to keep her grounded there.
"Shhh.. just keep breathing" She replied immediately, feeling you tense and her free hand coming up to push you back down onto the bed. "Just breathe, relax." She whispered, gently kissing along the leg she held up. You tried to do as she instructed, taking deep, shaky breaths, closing your eyes tightly. It was starting to work.
But your relief was short lived, snatched from you as you felt the searing pain of her sliding deeper. “W-wait vi— what are you doing?!” You took the hand you had placed firmly on her hip and pushed, trying your hardest to still her movement. But it was impossible— she was so strong, much moreso than you, your efforts were fruitless. "Shh... calm down, baby.." She whispered softly, trying to sooth you as she held her position for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling. Her free hand moved up to brush against your cheek and gently caress your chest, trying to get you to relax. Her voice was soft and calming, trying her best to comfort you as she felt you getting tense. "Relax. Everything is gonna be alright. I got you. I promise I'll go slow but..I need you to relax, okay? Just breathe…"
“N-no! Vi— you said just the tip!”
"I know, I know... baby, I'm sorry.." She said, her body moving still to hold herself up, one arm propped on the bed beside your head. She looked down at you with an understanding, but also determined look, trying to reassure you. "But you're doing so well for me. You're such a good girl..." She pushed her hips further, firmly this time, watching your expression closely. “Move your hand.” she commanded gently, and when you refused she grabbed it and pinned it your your side. She leaned down and pressed her lips to yours, claiming your lips in a deep and passionate kiss.
She frowned as you turned your head, a childish attempt at avoiding her affection. "Baby, please.." She begged softly, her hand reaching up and gently grabbing your chin, tilting your head back towards her so she would see your face. "Don't do that, look at me, baby. C'mon." Her voice was desperate. Her lips were so close to yours, her body leaning over you, her free hand still caressing your skin. She was aching for your taste again.
When you turned your face away from her a second time, low growl escaped her lips, her grip on your chin tightening. "No. Eyes on me, baby. I said look at me. I want you to look at me, I want to see your pretty face when I'm taking you." She commands, her voice firm yet gentle.
You felt her bottom out, your pelvis throbbing at the feeling. You felt to full, so uncomfortable. It hurt just to slightly move your hips. Tears blur your vision, a mixture of frustration and and betrayal overwhelming you. It felt like she was pressing down on you at all sides— her presence giving you a sick feeling in your tummy.
She started at a slow and steady pace, her hips meeting yours deliberately, one of her hands gently caressing the side of your face to try and sooth you. Her lips began to suck at your neck again, leaving soft, small love bites and hickeys along your skin, marking you as hers. "That's it... you're such a good girl for me, baby.... So so good... and you look so pretty like this. Taking me in... so good for me.." You didn’t bother to try wiping your tears, they would keep flowing anyways.
She took a hand and rubbed your clit meticulously, applying soft pressure. “F-fuck—!” You cursed, hands gripping the sheets tightly. Vi smirked at your reaction, rubbing just a bit faster, “Gotta loosen you up baby, you’re so tight.” She spit onto your pussy. “Relax, princess.”
“I can’t!”
“You can.” You try to bite back the yelps of pain, not wanting to edge her on any further than you already unkowingly have, tucking your lip between your teeth. You keep your eyes squeezed shut, your body rocking with every slam of her hips. "No, sweetness,” She takes her thumb and pulls your lip free. “You’re so pretty when you make little noises for me. Let me hear them, I wanna hear your pretty voice." Her eye contact was daunting and unwavering, it made you nauseous.
Her pace began to pick up a bit more, her hips moving more urgently against you. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air, along with her soft, ragged breaths and your yelps. Her free hand squeezed your hip, her slender fingers digging into the soft flesh. Her mouth came down and began to gently nuzzle your neck, her breath hot against your skin as she pressed messy little kisses along the sensitive flesh there.
“How is it, hm?” She said between kisses, but you chose not to respond. You were focused on the way you could feel you pussy starting to leak, your hole embracing her now. Your body was betraying your mind. “S-shit!” You whimper quietly against your best efforts, but you know she caught it.
She sits back up and you could see the thought cross her mind before she acted on it, her hand reaching down to shove two fingers into your mouth, caressing your tongue with a perverted smirk. "Good girl.... keep those pretty lips open for me, baby..” You could feel the spit sliding down your chin. You felt your pussy throb at her praise, moaning abrubtly at her words. Her thrusts had really been working into you now, nudging your walls with a purpose. It felt good.
That one moan went straight to Vi's core, hearing you sent a shiver down her spine, her pace quickening slightly. She pulled your hips up, into you at new angle, watching in awe as you fell apart. “Hah—hah—” You didn’t even try to stay quiet anymore, her dick hitting your g-spot deliciously. "Yeah.... just like that, baby. Let it out for me.” She stuck two fingers back into your mouth, “Get ‘em nice and wet, babydoll,” Vi groaned lowly as she watched you flick your tongue over her fingers, moving them down to your clit again to rub you. “Feels s’good right, baby? My baby just needed someone to push her past her limits, huh?”
You replied with a string of moans, your feet flailing aimlessly at her thrusts. “Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” She notices it before you do; the bulge sticking out of your pelvis everytime she bottoms out. “Ohhhhh, fuck me. Look at that, baby.” Her voice pulls you out of your trance, lulling your head up to look at what she was referring to. “Oh my God—” You choke up as she lifts a hand to press on it, “Bet that feels fuckin’ amazing, huh? Getting your guts dug in?”
You can hardly form a sentence, arching your back into the matress; she’s fucking you so good. “Yesss— fuck! S’good!”
“That’s what I like to hear.” She fucks you at a vigorous speed, beating into your g-spot with every thrust. “Cmon, sweetness. I wanna see your cum face.” She spits on your pussy again, taking her fingers and rubbing your clit, fast. “Cmon baby, let go f’me.”
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#mother speaks#vi#vi arcane#arcane vi#vi x reader#vi x you#vi x y/n#vi smut#arcane#arcane league of legends#arcane s2#arcane season 2#arcane headcanon#arcane x reader#arcane smut#lesbian#wlw#ao3
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Flowers (Headcannons)
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Sevika x fem! reader
Warnings / content: 18+ content, brothel worker reader, brief mentions of casual sex with other brothel workers, soft sex, tribbing, Sevika’s daddy issues, afab reader.
A/N: This is short. I may do more with this trope but it depends on if you guys like this post, idk how I feel about it yet so…
୨ৎ Sevika who is one of the only clients of yours who gives aftercare. You’re not to used it, most of the guys you sleep with for money only pay you through Babbette and leave. Sevika holds you in her big arms, rubbing your back silently. It's not a comfortable silence, but rather a vulnerable one in which she is afraid to say she feels more.
୨ৎ Sevika who previously fucked brothel girls in the most detached ways possible, simply bending them over and leaving afterwards. She knew it was wrong, but sex was just a way to blow steam for her.
୨ৎ Sevika who fucks you like you're her wife, though. Smothering kisses all over your shoulder as she moves her hips, she is truly more intimate than any other client is. You're too used to men coming for a blow and leaving, but that isn't the case with Sevika.
୨ৎ Sevika who believes "love at first sight" is the stupidest shit she has ever heard of, but... you're beautiful, and you remind her of flowers. Flowers don't usually grow in the undercity, so she simply felt the need to gently pick your petals one by one and water your roots when she finished. You never question why this rather brash-looking woman is so soft for you, but if you did, she would simply tell you she likes "slow sex." If only you knew.
୨ৎ Sevika who stopped seeing her other girls a week after you. You filled her mind with visions of rose metals and soft waterlilies, and it didn't help that your perfume smells like a damn flower shop. She finds herself thinking about you only now, to the point that she doesn't care about blowing off steam. You and your sweet hums when she squeezes your waist, your skin so malleable under her touch.
୨ৎ Sevika who thinks about more than just the sex. Since you’re a brothel worker, she unfortunately doesn’t get much time with you besides that. Still, she thinks about the moments when it’s just quiet between the two of you. The moments leading up to it are stuck in her head like a loop, and she can’t help but think about the one time she got bold enough to hold your hand after sex. Much like a flower, you gave her a soft, warm smile. You squeezed her hand, and it made her heart burst.
୨ৎ Sevika who wonders why a sweet girl like you works at a brothel. Not that she would ever judge people for that, since she knows from her own experience how hard surviving is. You probably just need to pay your bills, put food in your mouth. She knows that. Still, she doesn’t like thinking about how tiring the job must be. Most women she knows who do the job don’t seem very happy on shifts, and yet you smile and laugh with her. Could it be that you feel what she feels?
୨ৎ Sevika who eventually stops coming to the brothel to sleep with you, rather finding herself stalling the sex unless you both wanna have sex, and at some point she pays just for sessions of talking to you. She likes getting to know you. She gets excited when you tell her how much you love cooking, and you inform her of your favorite flower. It’s one you have only seen once, but you hope to see it again someday.
୨ৎ Sevika who accidentally tells you she loves you during sex one day. You’re underneath her as she grinds her pussy against yours, and there aren’t any exaggerated moans like you fake with other customers—just soft, delicate gasps. You seem so caught up in your pleasure, like you’ve forgotten this is a job and not..something else that you haven’t acknowledged yet. Sevika is mesmerized by your facial expression, too. Your eyes like to find hers and make that connection, and you’ve leaned in for soft, intimate kisses multiple times just this round. Naturally, the words slip.
“I love you.”
୨ৎ Sevika who shouldn’t be surprised when you say it back, but is. She doesn’t have the best self-esteem. For the better part of her life, she dealt with her old man putting her down for everything he could. She got comments on her appearance: her nose, her lack of femininity. All of the things that you adore, thought she struggles to understand how. Still, she won’t refuse your love. She wants you to be hers.
୨ৎ Sevika who works her ass off for a single flower. Piltover goods are not cheap, and she was charged extra just because the vendor simply could. But the one flower she could afford is just as beautiful as you described it to her. And of course, it reminds her of you.
୨ৎ Sevika who asks you to actually be her girlfriend with the flower. It’s not much, and yet you tear up when it happens. She is given the softest hug in return, and all of the soreness in her back from working extra for the flower was suddenly gone. It was all worth it.
#sevika x fem!reader#sevika x reader#sevika arcane#arcane sevika#sevika#arcane headcanon#lesbian#wlw ns/fw#by ioveartfilm#dividers by muruffin
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Pheromones perfume with sevika because she was angry and ignoring you so you took matters in your own hand
Pheromones perfume. ─ suggestive ( since I don't write smut often )
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Sevika had been in one of her moods — brooding, jaw tight, and giving you the silent treatment like a professional. No amount of sweet talking or teasing had broken her stubborn resolve. You weren't even sure what had set her off this time, but you'd had enough of being ignored.
So, naturally, you decided to take matters into your own hands.
The pheromone perfume had been an impulse buy, sitting unused on your vanity for weeks. You never thought you'd actually wear it, but desperate times called for desperate measures. One spritz to your neck, a dab on your wrists, and you were ready for war.
Sevika was in the living room, sprawled on the couch, arms crossed over her chest, pretending to watch some mindless show. The moment you walked in, her head turned ever so slightly.
“Hey,” you greeted casually, standing a little too close as you leaned on the back of the couch.
Her nose twitched.
“New perfume?” she asked, voice low, skeptical.
“Mm, yeah. You like it?”
She grunted, trying to play it cool, but her eyes flicked to your neck, lingering just a bit too long.
You bit back a grin, brushing your fingers through your hair, subtly wafting the scent toward her. “Thought I'd switch things up. You know, since someone's been all grumpy.”
Her lips twitched, almost betraying a smile, but she fought it off. “Not grumpy,” she muttered, though her voice had lost its edge.
“Oh, sure. You're a ray of sunshine,” you teased, leaning down so your lips were close to her ear.
Sevika shifted, clearly uncomfortable — not from annoyance but from the sudden heat crawling up her neck. Her jaw clenched tighter, but her pupils were blown wide now, betraying her composure.
“You're doing this on purpose,” she accused, voice husky.
“Me? Never,” you said innocently, brushing past her arm as you circled the couch.
Before you could get far, her hand shot out, gripping your wrist. Her touch was firm, possessive. “Careful, bby,” she warned, though there was no real threat in her voice, only desire simmering beneath.
You smiled sweetly, knowing you'd won. “Or what?”
Her eyes darkened. “Or I’ll remind you who you're teasing.”
that predatory gleam you knew so well sparking to life. In one swift motion, she tugged you down onto her lap, your knees straddling her thick thighs. The heat radiating from her body was intoxicating, making your head spin.
"You think a little perfume's all it takes to get me worked up?" she murmured, her lips ghosting over your neck, just shy of contact.
"You tell me," you whispered breathlessly, tilting your head to give her access.
Sevika let out a low, gravelly chuckle, her breath hot against your skin. "You're trouble, you know that?"
Her hand slid up your thigh, calloused fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The teasing brush of her thumb against your hip made your pulse race.
"And you're stubborn," you countered, barely able to keep your voice steady as her mouth finally found your neck, lips and teeth dragging over sensitive skin.
"Stubborn enough to make you beg," she growled, nipping at your pulse point just hard enough to make you gasp.
Your fingers tangled in her short hair, nails scraping against her scalp as you pressed closer. "Pretty sure you're the one who broke first," you managed to taunt, though your voice was shaky with need.
Sevika's eyes flicked up, sharp and dangerous, a slow grin spreading across her face. "Is that right, princess?" Her voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it—a warning.
Her hand slid down your back, rough fingers tracing along your spine before settling firmly on your hip. "to confident for someone shaking like a leaf," she murmured, her lips grazing the shell of your ear.
"I'm not—" The words caught in your throat as Sevika's hand moved lower, slipping under your skirt without hesitation.
"Not what?" she whispered, voice dripping with smug amusement. "Not nervous? Not completely at my mercy?"
Your breath hitched as her fingers brushed against bare skin, teasing along your thigh. "Sevika..."
"Hmm? What's that, bunny?" Her tone was infuriatingly cocky now, her hand unapologetically exploring, fingers curling just enough to make your legs tremble.
"You—"
"Me?" she interrupted with a smirk, pressing a little harder, her breath hot against your neck.
A shiver ran through you, words lost in the heat between you both as Sevika claimed every ounce of control you'd thought you had.
#arcane x reader#sevika x reader#sevika fluff#sevika smut#sevika x female reader#sevika headcanon#sevika x you#wlw#lesbian
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“violet!” you yelled loudly, sprinting towards her.
vi only had a fraction of a second to react before you threw yourself at her, wrapping your legs snugly above her hips and slinging your arms over her broad shoulders. the force from your sudden hug pushed her a few steps back, and her arms immediately slipped around your waist supportively.
“woah, someone's excited to see me.”
vi let out a low chuckle. you mirrored her laugh, propping yourself up to squish her cheeks together between the palm of your hands.
before vi could say anything, you closed the gap, peppering her face with dozens of light kisses. her lips, her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her freckles… your lips met every part of her face.
you felt the apples of vi’s cheeks rise up when she smiled, a bubble of laughter escaping from her throat as she tried to turn her face away from your relentless affection.
your own attempt at holding down your laughter was unsuccessful, and she quickly took that as an opening to pepper your face with twice as many kisses, until you had push yourself away from her because passersby on the street were giving the two of you weird looks.
“how did you get here so early?” vi breathed out, placing you back on the ground carefully.
her eyes were dazed, face flushed a light red under the warm tint of the setting sun.
“because i knew you were going to be early.” you huffed, referring to her infuriatingly stubborn habit of arriving much earlier than you to all of your dates, just so you wouldn't have to be the one to wait for her.
“i can’t have you wait for me all the time.”
“yeah, but that's supposed to be my thing, princess.” vi countered with a small frown, though there was nothing but fondness in her tone. “what am i going to do if you arrive earlier than me next time?”
“i guess you should start picking me up from home next time.” you replied light-heartedly, lacing your hand between hers with a smile. you knew it unreasonable to expect her to pick you up at your house before your dates — the two of you live too far apart.
but that was exactly what she did.
for the next date, the one following that, and the one after.
vi would stop by your house each time without fail, a bouquet of flowers in hand, a cheesy grin plastered on her face, waiting to be drowned in your hugs and kisses.
#arcane#arcane x reader#vi x reader#arcane fluff#arcane vi#arcane imagines#arcane headcanon#vi arcane#vi fluff#arcane fanfic#vi x you#vi arcane x reader#arcane x female reader#wlw fanfic#domestic vi
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Ellie Williams x Female Reader Headcannons
Only women can interact, sorry not sorry 😝
A/N: idk i got bored and just yapped (I use these for my fics btw, expect to see some of these being implemented).
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Fluff .☘︎ ݁˖
Keeps everything you give her. That includes gum and candy wrappers, unopened chocolates (it’s expired and probably molding), stuffed animals, tickets, and even pencils that she accidentally ended up breaking.
She keeps a box specifically for those things.
She’s definitely a hourder. Every little trinket she sees will be hers. On the ground or not, she’ll stuff it in her pockets, bring it home, and display it on her desk for you to see. Even though she tries to be nonchalant about it.
Loves when you cook, not because she can’t but because she claims that she food tastes a thousand times better when it’s made from your hands. Also because, apparently, your special ingredient is love.
Takes you out on museum dates so she can watch as you look up in curiosity at the display of skeletal remains of a dinosaur. She likes the fact that the two of you share interests, it gives her awkward-self something to talk about.
On the topic of awkward, the first time she’d ever had a conversation with you ended up becoming the most embarrassing thing she’d ever done in her life. Stuttering, pausing inbetween sentences, or just straight up forgetting what she was talking about pretty much sums it all up.
Stuffs her mouth with the sweets you bought. Next thing you know, the whole box is gone.
This woman YELLS when she’s on the game. Cursing every sentence turns into rage quitting and shutting off her console. Afterwards, she’ll immediately come to lay ontop of you and burry her face away into the crook of your neck; patiently leting you work your magic on easing her up.
Tells you that matching is childish but secretly ADORES the idea (Mainly so everyone knows you’re hers). You want matching pajamas? Done, she’s bought the two of you five pairs. Wanna get matching keychains? Ellie will handpick every trinket you like from her collection and grunt through the process of hand-making a one in a million keychain for the two of you.
She wears it everyday.
After her hard work she expects you to take care of her sore and achy fingers with extra love and attention. She’s talkin’ kiss the pain away and smother her with cuddles. Even spoil her with chocolates.
Loves when you call her baby. That special nickname gets her going; it might as well as be her motivation to wake up.
Likes being babied… (She’s not proud of it.)
Finds your weirdness endearing because she’s never been comfortable enough to openly be herself; dorky and cringe. She’d rather be nonchalant and act all tough, even though you see right through her act.
Makes dad jokes.
LOVESSS to hold your hand whenever the two of you are out. Small things like resting your head on her shoulder, giving her arm a squeeze, or even staring at her for a moment too long can get her red.
NSFW ༉‧₊˚.
She’ll memorize ever inch of your body during sex and use it as a reference for her drawings.
Her journal is now full of all the different poses the two of you had tried out.
Every little thing you do gets her giddy: squirming your hips, biting your lip, tugging at her hair, or even moaning her name, those are all the things that get her wet. Drenched even.
PS: she’ll get extra wet if you run your fingers to the back of her neck and hold onto her from there— you can ever grip at her hair and she’ll end up whining for more attention. (Even though YOU’RE the one getting strapped down.)
Likes to have you on your back with your legs spread so she can see just how good she’s doing you.
Loses her shit whenever you praise her. Whether it’s when she’s being ate out or when she’s pounding into you, she’s most likely to cum from just watching and hearing you.
Holds your hands in almost every position because that’s her silent way of showing you how mushy you make her. Also because she likes the idea that you’re still paying attention to her rather than the strap she has around her hip.
Loves how you taste. She could have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if she could.
Fav combo: fingering + oral. She swears it gets you (s)creaming.
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