Ambessa Feeding Into Readers Mommy Issues… I Need

— come a little closer

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

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

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

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

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

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

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

The step creaks under pure muscle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“________,” you offer.

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

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

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

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

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

Vi’s floored.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

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

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

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

“So?”

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

Her teammate snorts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

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

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

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

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

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

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

“I am.”

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

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

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

Vi could melt.

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

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

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

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

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

“You’re fucking joking!”

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

“Maddie,” you whisper.

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

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

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

You look around in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

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

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

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

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

“Am I going too fast?”

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

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

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

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

You decide to fold your cards first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

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

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

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

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

“Violet.”

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

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

“V—”

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

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

Vi’s smile is crooked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

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

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

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

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

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

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

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

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

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

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

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

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

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

“Sure, anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hungry?” you ask.

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

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

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

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

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

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

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

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

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

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

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

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

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

“God, marry me now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

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

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

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

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

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

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

Cute. So fucking cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Vi,” you whimper.

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

She resists a smile.

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

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

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

Test the waters, cop a feel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

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

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

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

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

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

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

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

5—4.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

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

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

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

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

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

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

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

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

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

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

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

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

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

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

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

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

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

“Leave it.”

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

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

She winks.

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

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

You should come, I can pick you up.

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

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

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

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

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

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

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

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” she hums.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh.”

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

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

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

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

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

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

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

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

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

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

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

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

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

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

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

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

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

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

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

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

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

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

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

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

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

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

“Can I?” she husks.

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

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

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

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

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

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

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

You’re staring, hard.

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

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

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

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

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

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

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

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

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

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

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

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

Your heartbeat skips.

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

Vi’s grinning wide.

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

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

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

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

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

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

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

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

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you’re running.

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

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

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

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

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

I’ll see you next week.

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

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

She sighs. Hard.

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

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

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

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

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

.

.

.

Then you add, We can smoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like?”

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

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

“Uh-huh?”

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

“But?”

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

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

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

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

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

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

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

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

Your breath catches.

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

“Why?”

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

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

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

“You really believe that?”

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

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

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

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

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

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

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

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

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

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

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

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

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

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

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

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

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xxxx: i really miss you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

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

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You humph.

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

“And that’s my problem because...?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Violet’s in love with you.”

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

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

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

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

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

“There’s a video.”

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

She reaches a palm out.

Show me.

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

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

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7—5.

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

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

Her bracelet.

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

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” you squeak.

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

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

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

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

You swallow.

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t,” you admit.

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

“We could start off with the obvious.”

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

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

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

“Vi.”

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

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

“Pl—ease.”

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

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

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

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

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

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

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

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

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

“Oh–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Vi.”

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

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nnngh, fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

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

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

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

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

“Thought you left,” you croak.

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

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

You whine.

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

Violet groans.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

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

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

neng © 2024

Sevika and bratty reader please it’s all I’ve been thinking about 🙏🙏🙏

Brat summer

Sevika x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.6k

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:You’re being bratty and so is Sev, but she isn’t giving up easy.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: unestablished relationship, meanish!Sevika, meanish!reader, brat reader, domestic dom Sevika

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: i’m lowkey so embarrassed how long this took to answer i’m so sorry nonnie but on a better note Sevika is so hot!!

Sevika stomped over to your table, annoyance rolling off of her in waves. Yanking a bottle from off the bar counter, she found her way to the table you sat at. Her eyes barely glanced over at the two men sitting at the table as she took a seat next to you. “Leave,” she ground out, glaring over at them in a manner that had them instantly getting up. 

No one dared challenge her words in fear of meeting a worse fate than being ordered away.

You glanced up, watching the men scramble to get up and leave. Groaning in irritation, you looked over at Sevika when she plopped into a seat next to you. “Silco not taking any guests?” You mused, trying to decipher her mood. “Oh, oh! Let me guess. He’s taking no guests and wants you to guard,” you grinned mischievously. 

Sevika scoffed and took another swig from the bottle in her hand. “You got a smart mouth,” she grumbled, the words more of a warning than a compliment. You huffed and shrugged, brushing it off as quickly as the offense came. A soft, frustrated grunt left her when she leaned back against the booth, arms crossed over her chest. Your eyes traced over the curves of her shoulders that flexed with her movements.

“I need some damn peace and quiet. Too many damn people in here,” she grumbled, shooting a sharp glare at a group being rowdy a few tables over. “And what would you do if it was quiet without me? You love my mouth too much to get rid of it.” Spotting the small smirk on her lips, you sat back. “So is there a reason why you’re chasing off people I’m drinking with?”

“Or is it just because you want that moment of peace?” Sevika rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I could do without your mouth,” she muttered, though there was a distinct lack of heat in her words. “And I’m not chasing anyone off. Like you said, I’m getting some peace and quiet.”

She turned her sharp gaze back to you, the faintest hint of a tease in her eyes. “Now, are you going to sit there and keep talking, or are you just gonna sit there and look pretty for me?” You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head to the side. “Rude…oh! Are you going to play poker? I could play you,” you hopped at the chance.

You were always trying to play cards against her, not that she ever let you. There was always an excuse she made — the most common one being that you were vetterat watching her play than participating, like she had ever seen you play. “We both know I’d wipe the floor with you,” Sevika said with a laugh, not giving you the opportunity to convince her otherwise. 

“Besides,” she continued, a faint smile playing on her mouth. “I need someone pretty to look at while I relax, sweetheart.” You frowned and glared back at her. “Literally no one else is sitting here to play with you. Just let me—“ You jumped at her sudden whistle to call over some regulars to play with.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you grumbled.

Sevika flashed you a cocky smirk, clearly enjoying your annoyance. She turned her attention to the men she’d called over, her tone taking on an entirely different tone — stoic, confident. “I need a few players,” Sevika jerked her head towards the empty chairs.

You watched as the men hurriedly sat down, clearly eager to get in on the game. Sevika dealt the cards with practiced ease, her eyes glinting with excitement as she sized them up, her competitive nature awakening. All of her attention naturally shifted over to the starting game.

Realizing you no longer had her recognition you sighed and stood up from your chair, letting it screech as you pushed back and stood up. If she wanted your table to herself she could have it, but you didn’t want to wait around. Truthfully, it was more to get back at her for playing with random people when you were trying to talk to her.

As you stood from the table, Sevika shot you a look, her eyebrows raising. “You don’t have to leave,” she said, “Or are you just being pissy ‘cause I’m playing with these guys and not you?” With a laugh, she turned her body back to the table. “Sit down,” she offered, yet her tone left no room for argument.

You scoffed, planting a hand on your hip. If you responded normally that would take the fun away from it. “Uh, no. I don’t want to hang out with random fucking men.” You shot a quick glance at them. “No offense,” you commented. Sevika rolled her eyes, “Oh, for the love of — just sit down,” She glared up at you, her gaze sharp and cutting.

“I don’t have time for bullshit, sweetheart. Quit whining and sit your ass down. I’ll deal you in on the next hand.” It wasn’t a request, but an order. Sevika was in a mood, and she didn’t have time for your attitude. Your foot swept out and tugged your chair back to yourself as you dropped heavily into it.

Sevika let out a frustrated sigh as she watched you stomp back over and plop back into your seat. “Thank you, princess. Was that so hard?” she asked with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Whatever,” you grumbled petulantly. Her focus quickly returned to the game, her eyes flitting between the cards in her hand and those laid out on the table. As she watched the players, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

When the silence only stretched on longer, you sighed –  growing antsy being still for so long. “Yeah actually it was,” you mimicked her tone, feeling the urge to be a brat grow bigger as you brought up her past words. Sevika let out an exasperated sigh as she listened to you mimic her. 

She shot you a sharp glare, her patience running thin.

“I swear, I should just gag you,” she said, her voice low and laced with irritation. “It’d be a whole lot easier to concentrate without your incessant yapping.” You leveled her a shocked look. “You have issues,” you snarked, the small amount of public perception that you cared about being thrown out the window.

Sevika rolled her eyes and shook her head at your comment. “Sweetheart, I’ve got enough issues to fill a damn novel,” she responded dryly, “My issue with you is that I just want a few minutes without your smart mouth talking back,” she continued, her irritation evident in her tone. “Is that too much to ask?”

You shut your mouth only to kick the ground with your shoe. After a moment of no reaction your shoe bumped into the side of hers, pressing harder to pry her boot off the floor. There was no reason other than simply being stubborn. Sevika growled in frustration as you continued to irritate her with the childish foot-kicking. “Knock it off,” she snipped, clearly at her wit's end with your behavior.

In a swift, calculated move, Sevika leaned forward, her hand shooting down and grabbing ahold of your ankle. She tugged you closer, practically pulling you off your seat. In response, you yelped when she yanked you forward by your ankle, your ass nearly dangling off of your chair.

“What the hell?” you spluttered. She kept quiet as she reached forward and corralled you, wrapped her strong arm around your waist, tugging you firmly into her lap. Sevika didn’t look at you, her focus still on the cards in her hand. “Just sit there and stay quiet,” she muttered, her fingers digging into your hip. 

“You’re the one who wanted me to pay attention, remember?” she added, a hint of amusement in her voice. You grit your teeth but huffed, unable to argue back and more than satisfied with her reaction. It was like a cat who wanted attention but hisses when they get it.

Sevika let out a satisfied hum as you seemed to comply with her order. She leaned back slightly, her grip on your waist loosening a bit – though she still held you firmly in place. “Good,” she murmured, her attention now divided between her cards and the way your ass pressed against her thighs. “I knew you could follow directions when you put your mind to it.”

You rolled your eyes and glared at her. “I can still get up and leave if you’re going to be a dick.” Sevika scoffed and gave your waist a squeeze. “Go ahead and try,” she challenged. “See how far that gets you.”

“Besides,” she added in a low tone, leaning in to brush her lips against the shell of your ear. “I think you rather like being in my lap, sweetheart.” You shivered at her low tone, her plush lips grazing the shell of your ear. It wasn’t entirely bad being on her lap.

She chuckled lowly at your response, her breath hot against your skin.  “See?” Sevika hummed, her lips brushing against your ear again. “It’s not so bad, is it?” She nipped playfully at your earlobe, her teeth grazing the delicate skin. “You can admit it, sweetheart. You like being close to me.”

You stifle a sigh, trying to keep up a tough exterior. “Shut up,” you grumble, leaning back into her as her warmth seeped into you. She let out a low laugh as you leaned into her, your back pressed against her front. “Just relax,” she murmured in your ear, her tone a mix of amusement and something softer, deeper, that you couldn’t quite place at the moment. Her eyes raised to glare at the men sitting in front of her that curiously looked at you.

Still now, she didn’t release her grip on you – keeping you firmly in her lap.

No, you weren’t going anywhere.

→ 50 sevika headcanons (sfw) no nsfw

>> during intense cold weather / snow days sevika notices you’re cold and grabs your hand and slips it into her coat pocket for warmth

>> sev holds you by your waist to reach high above the shelves (even if you aren’t short, she just finds excuses to hold your waist)

>> takes lazy sundays serious & sleeps in till late

>> sevika ties your shoes for you in public, she’ll even let you place your shoe on her thighs / pants no matter how dirty the bottom of your shoe is

>> sevika sleeps with white noise, ac, and the tv on. she sleeps like a bear in hibernating

>> sevika snores in her sleep especially on nights she’s worked long hours or when she’s extremely tired

>> sevika loves to be the little spoon

>> sevika loves to be the big spoon as well!

>> sevika makes sure you have most of the blanket on your end. she will freeze to death to make sure you’re covered & warm

>> sevika hates to admit she loves watching cheesy romamce movies

>> after long day’s at work sevika loves to embrace you and burry her head into the nape of your neck and smell you

>> sevika is a waist grabber (ALWAYS!) in public and behind closed doors

>> jealous!sevika loves to grip / hold your thigh in public spaces

>> jealous!sevika prefers you light her cigarettes and sit on her lap when she plays poker

>> jealous!sevika hates seeing men try to flirt with you in front of her and decides to hold your waist / push you closer towards her cups your face and leans for a deep passionate kiss without room for you to catch your breath

>> sev is the type to suck her teeth very loud, yawn, and grunts to display boredom in the failed attempt at men flirting with you

>> sev hates ending the conversation with you abruptly. no matter how bad the argument she still kisses your forhead and says she “loves you” before she walks out.

>> sevika hates when you drive yourself anywhere, she prefers escorting you places instead

>> sevika hates when you worry financial issues. she loves spending money on you and showering you with gifts

>> sevika buys you flowers every few weeks and admires how you take the time to trim them + display them in a vase for the apartment

>> sevika is a cat person. she can’t help herself from running by the nearest convenience store and buying food for a stray cat

>> sevika enjoys a shopping haul. mainly because she likes seeing you change in front of her so many time. soaking in your body and gorgeous curves.

>> sevika hates the summer. however, she enjoys colder climate, foggy weather, and rainy nights.

>> sev lets you do her skin care for her. she had no idea why it’s important, but loves to feel your soft hands on her face

>> when sev is away on long business trips she likes to write hand written letters to you, because it’s more sentimental

>> sevika’s loyalty goes beyond the relationship, she treats your friends and family with respect and kindness as well

>> she hates sweet coffee. black coffee 100%

>> sev likes to buy your lingerie & dresses. she picks the colors that flatter your skin tone the most.

>> she never makes you lift a finger. she opens doors for you, holds your hand walking down the steps, carry’s you on her back if your feet begin to hurt.

>> sev is an animal lover! she feeds all stray animals and considers to take up fostering as a side hobby but gets attached to the animals fast.

>> sevikacan’t find her glasses for 5hrs and calls you to ask if you’ve seen them. you ask her if she’s checked the top of her head and she hangs up from embarrassment

>> sev hates the doctor. she rather you give her first aid and touch her wounds instead of a stranger

>> she loves thrifting, record stores and antique shops that hold a lot of history

>> sevika loves helping at the foster care facility on weekends

>> she’s an awesome baby sitter and children are easily attached to her. they liked to climb her like a tree and she gives free piggyback rides

>> sev admires your smile. she hates seeing you upset, she’ll do anything to end the day with a smile on your face

>> sevika gets flustered when you call her boyfriend or husband!

>> she hates when people get your order wrong / forgot something. she’ll go back to make sure they get it correct the second time

>> sevika hates social media! she prefers talking face to face instead of texting. deep conversations is more genuine

>> sev doesn’t understand how texting works, but she enjoys sending a good mirror selfie of her biceps and abs at the most random times throughout the day (you get shy opening them in public)

>> for some reason sevika is instagram famous. she has 7k followers, but she only follows you and likes / comments your post ONLY

>> sevika hates when people flirt with her in front of you. she holds your hand and squeezes it tightly to remind everyone she’s taken by you. she hates when people make you feel invisible

>> although you and sevika aren’t married she treats you like her wife & calls you her wife 24/7. she doesn’t care if it’s not official yet!

>> she doesn’t understand the hype behind TikTok couple dances. she’s stiff as hell. she’ll make attempts only because it makes you happy

>> sevika take’s selfies like an old boomer. still throws up the peace sign and does the millennial pause before taking a video

>> sevika enjoys taking you baths. she’ll run to get a hot bath ready for when you come home to work. she loves making things easier for you and more romantic

>> sevika is the type to win you very BIG prizes and stuff animals at the carnival and make all the men their look 10x weaker

>> sevika loves to lay her head on your lap and give you puppy eyes. she loves when you give her kisses on the nape of her neck and run your hands through her hair till she gets all sleepy

>> sevika admires your cooking! licking the plate and all… probably inhaled dinner without room to breathe

>> sevika is a crash out when it comes to gaming. this is the 4th pc set up she purchased in one year because she keeps punching the screen

{ The End }

if you’re coming here from twitter, thank you so much for the love and support. if you’re new then I hope you enjoyed! plenty of post in the works.

lamb to the slaughter.

ghost. part ii ┃ sevika x reader WC: 4.4K

ⓘ: wrote n proofread while crossed. chop shit fr. will reread when sober n correct errors if needed. ⚠︎: kissing, alcohol consumption, mild misogyny, blood, psychological horror/thriller elements

As you enter the elevator, the world outside seems to blur; your polished fingernail quivers while pressing the button for floor thirteen. The brass numbers shine brightly beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, and in the mirrored doors, you glimpse your reflection—pale, weary, haunted.

Your mind is a mess, running a million miles a minute as it replays the previous night. The pounding in your skull is relentless, a hangover blooming behind your eyes. You rub your temple, trying to will away the ache, the scent of stale perfume and coffee clinging to your skin.

Just as the doors begin to close, an arm darts through the narrowing gap. You flinch, causing one of the coffees in your tray to slosh over, scalding your wrist. You wince, looking up—straight into Sevika’s steely gaze. Your breath catches, the air between you charged.

She doesn’t say a word, just steps in beside you. The elevator hums upward, the tinny jingle and mechanical whirring filling the silence. You risk a glance at her—she’s staring straight ahead, jaw set, eyes shadowed. You look away, heart hammering.

The elevator shudders to a stop. Sevika slips out, brushing past you and Matt. Her stride is purposeful, and her presence leaves a chill in her wake.

A cackle leaves his lips, snapping you back to the present moment. “Damn, Sevika, you ain’t got no sleep last night, eh?” His tone is crude, the words hanging in the air like smoke.

He turns his attention to you, lips curling in a smirk. “Jesus, little miss. You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“W-what…?” you stammer, eyes fixed on the door Sevika just disappeared through.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he snatches a cup from your tray.“Damn woman, can’t handle yer liquor.” He steps into the elevator, leaving you in the hallway, the scent of burnt coffee and cologne lingering.

You move on autopilot, feet carrying you to the office. The familiar clatter of typewriters and the low drone of voices fill your ears, the normalcy of it all jarring against the chaos inside your head.

Your gaze finds Sevika instantly. She looks… different. Her hair, usually pulled back with military precision, hangs loose around her face. Dark circles bruise the skin beneath her eyes, her posture tense, almost harrowing. She’s the picture of exhaustion, of something unraveling.

Though your head snaps in the opposite direction, the second her eyes meet yours, your heart rate increases. You can almost feel her gaze piercing through you like a blade.

‘Get Out’

Sevikas previous words linger in the air, sending a biting chill down your spine. 

She was usually so meticulously eloquent. Every word uttered seemed to be carefully thought out, practised, and planned. To see that crumbling down within the blink of an eye was beyond disconcerting. 

You force your mind to redirect, focusing on the mundane. Allowing the soft hiss from the coffee machine, measured typing of keys, and hum of fluorescent lights to steady your racing heart. Anything to drown out the memory gnawing at the edges of your mind. 

Last night had to have been a trick, too much alcohol, not enough sleep. People dont change…not like that. Not Sevika.

You catch yourself glancing at her once again, searching for any sign of the monster you thought you saw last night. But she just looks tired. Human. Vulnerable, even.

Maybe you imagined it, maybe you saw something that wasn't there. It had to be a hallucination, a nightmare. It had to be.

Then you remember the way her voice cut through the air, sharp and cutting. The glint in her eyes-wild, ravenous. No. That’s impossible. There’s no such thing as…

You shake your head, pressing a clammy palm to your forehead, trying to force the memory away. 

Get it together. You think as you throw yourself into work, determined to free your brain from the tormenting recollection of the night prior.

The flashing green numbers from the Quotron terminal begin to jumble on the screen, only worsening your headache. You decide to take a break, heading to the break room.

You almost stop in your tracks when you see Sevika’s figure looming over the counter, her head hung low. A soft gulp breaks the silence, her head snapping up to you, eyes softening ever so slightly.

"Sev..." you start, voice hesitant, unsure how to put your thoughts into words.

She sighs, turning to lean against the counter, crossing her arms. "Doll, I-"

Stomping footsteps echo from behind you. Sevika’s gaze diverts to Chris, who looks pale and frantic.

"Sevika—fuck—everyone’s selling..." His tone is panicked, voice cracking.

Sevika curses under her breath. "Fuckin’ market’s crashing," she mutters, her focus darting between you and Chris.

Your eyes widen, apprehension setting in. "..What do we do?" you ask, voice small.

Chris is already wringing his hands, glancing at the clock. "Clients are calling-some are demanding we sell everything; others are freaking out about margin calls-"

Sevika’s response is eerily calm, her tone shifting into something practiced and commanding, like she’s done this a hundred times. "Chris, you know the drill. No panic selling. Remind clients of their long-term plans. If they have cash, look for bargains—selectively. The worst thing we can do is dump everything at the bottom."

He nods, bolting back to his desk. The office buzz has shifted—phones ring off the hook, voices are raised, and the air is thick with anxiety. Coworkers cluster in tense knots, faces drawn, eyes glued to tumbling numbers on their screens.

Sevika’s eyes meet yours again, her composure returning even as exhaustion shadows her face. 

"Remember what we discussed about market crashes, doll. Stay calm, don’t let anyone deviate from their financial plan. The market always rebounds—maybe not tomorrow, but it will. Trust me."

You nod, letting her words anchor you as you settle in at your desk. The calls are relentless, clients desperate for reassurance, some on the verge of panic. You repeat Sevika’s advice: stay on course, don’t make decisions out of fear, focus on the long-term. The chaos inside your head mirrors the chaos outside, but you cling to the routine, to Sevika’s steadiness.

Even so, you notice Sevika snapping at a junior analyst, her hands moving so fast they blur, her nerves frayed beneath the surface calm.

The atmosphere grows increasingly distressing as the day wears on. Shouts fill the bustling office, and the clacking of keyboards becomes frenzied. The flashy green numbers change so quickly that you can barely read them.

You struggle to push away your own panic as percentage drops reach double digits, your hand moving on autopilot as it reaches to dial a client.

This call is like the others— the client stammers out various concerns about his portfolio, his voice rising in frustration as you exhaust his options.

The man seethes, hurling insults into the mouthpiece before a rough click echoes through the phone. You wince, the pain behind your eyes seeming to spread through every corner of your body. A deep sigh escapes your lips as you set your phone down and run a hand through your hair.

The chaos in the office is relentless. Phones ringing, numbers tumbling, voices raised in panic. You glance up, eyes searching for Sevika. She’s in the center of the storm, sleeves rolled up, barking orders with a clipped authority.

You approach her, hesitating at the edge of her desk, clutching a stack of client reports. “Sevika—”

She doesn’t spare you a glance. “Not now, doll. Handle your calls. We’ll talk later.” Her tone is brisk, almost cold.

Swallowing your disappointment, you retreat, dialing another anxious client. As usual, the man’s voice blares in your ear, frantic and accusatory., “You see what’s happening out there? I’m losing my shit! Why aren’t you selling?” You do your best to reassure him, parroting Sevika’s advice about riding out the storm, but your words feel thin, artificial. When he hangs up—hard—you realize your hands are shaking.

Sevika’s voice slices through the din, booming across the room. “Keep calm! Don’t let clients dump everything. Remind them of their long-term plans!” Her gaze sweeps the floor, sharp and commanding, but when it lands on you, it softens for a heartbeat, and she gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod of approval before her attention snaps to a junior analyst hovering at her side.

He stammers something about investment calls, clutching a fistful of slips, and Sevika’s patience cracks. “Figure it out and get the hell out of my face,” she snarls, voice like a whip. Almost instantly, she reaches up to brush sweat from her brow, her shoulders slumping, exhaustion plain in the way she leans against her desk. The analyst scurries away, eager to escape the heat of her glare.

Chris paces behind you, letting out a huff at the sight in front of him. “Never seen Sevika this rattled. She’s usually ice.”

You survey her expression, heartstrings clenching at the dreary look on her face. She’s visibly lost in thought, eyes distant as she stares at the wall.

Last night must have affected her, you think, lips down, turning into a small frown.

Her eyes meet yours, expression hardening immediately as she notices the stares from you and Chris. Causing you to avert your eyes down to your trembling hands.

Waiting for your nerves to steady, the next caller lights up your phone. You’re about to answer when you feel a cool hand brush against your blouse.

Sevika’s voice, lower now, cuts through the chaos. “Doll, take a breath. You’re no good to anyone if you crack up.” It’s barely more than a murmur, meant for you alone, and for a moment, the noise fades.

You nod, swallowing hard as you force yourself to focus. Another client, another round of panic. She gives your waist a comforting squeeze before pulling away, her touch lingering longer than necessary.

Hours pass and the final bell rings through the cavernous trading floor, cutting sharply through the lingering noise. Phones went silent and the frantic buzz of voices faded into a low murmur. The glowing green on the Quotron terminals slowed their frantic dance, setting into a steady, muted glow.

You let out a long breath, feeling the tight knot in your shoulders loosen just a bit. Around you, traders rubbed their tired eyes and stretched still limbs, exchanging exhausted glances. The air, heavy with the scent of stale coffee and sweat, felt less oppressive, more resigned.

Sevika stood near the window, her silhouette framed by the fading dusk. Her tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up, but her posture remained rigid, her gaze sharp as she surveyed the city below.

You approached cautiously, unsure if she wanted company. “We made it through,” you said quietly.

She didn’t turn immediately, then finally glanced your way with a brief, almost dismissive nod. “Barely,” she replied, voice clipped. Then, softer, almost reluctant: “Not pretty, but it’s over.”

You swallowed, sensing the wall she’d put up. “It felt endless today.”

She shrugged, eyes flickering away. “Markets don’t care about how we feel. They just keep moving.” Then, catching your gaze, she added, “You held up better than I expected.”

A flicker of warmth, quickly masked by her usual guarded expression.

“I tried…” You reply, trying to gauge her expression.

Sevika exhales, the tension in the air almost palpable.

“You did good today, doll. I’m… sorry I was so short with you,” she says quietly, her gaze dropping to the floor.

You nod, voice hesitant. “It’s alright, Sev… I just…” Your words falter as you glance around at the other traders gathering their things, the day winding down. “…Can we talk about last night?” The question barely escapes your lips, little more than a whisper.

Her jaw tightens, shoulders stiffening. “Doll-” Her tone is sharper than you expect, as if she’s chastising you for even mentioning it.

You cut in, desperate. “Please…”

She sighs again, resignation flickering in her eyes. “Go grab your stuff. I’ll drive you home.”

Relief and apprehension twist together in your chest as you pack up, hands trembling. She’s willing to talk, but the uncertainty gnaws at you.

The walk to her car is thick with silence, awkward and strained-so unlike the easy camaraderie you’re used to. The drive is worse; Sevika keeps her eyes on the road, her posture rigid, tension radiating off her in waves. You stare out the window, heart pounding, wishing you could read her mind.

When she finally parks, you both head upstairs in silence. She trails behind you, hands shoved deep in her pockets, every step heavy with unspoken words.

You unlock your apartment, flicking on the lights. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. She’s just here to talk, you tell yourself, but the attempted mantra does little to slow your racing pulse.

Sevika steps inside, glancing around as if she’s never been here before. Her presence feels strange, unfamiliar. You hate it.

“Want a drink…?” you offer, fidgeting with your hands.

She looks at you, unreadable, eyes searching your face for something you can’t name.

“Sure.”

“Please, sit down.” You gesture stiffly toward the couch, wincing at how formal the words sound as they fall from your lips.

She sits, sinking into the cushions, her posture guarded.

You turn toward the kitchen, but freeze. Down the hall, your reflection stares back at you from the mirror–alone. Sevika should be visible in the glass, shouldn’t she? You glance back at her, still seated, close enough to be seen. Your stomach knots.

No, you’re imagining things. That’s impossible. Sevika isn’t a… No. You won’t let your mind go there.

You move to the kitchen, feeling detached, as if you’re watching yourself from a distance. Your eyes flick to Sevika, half-expecting her to vanish, half-afraid she’ll move.

Your hand shakes as you pour her a glass of scotch–her favorite. Nearly spilling the malt liquid as you cross the room; nerves fraying.

You sit beside her, careful to leave a considerable amount of space. Her gaze lingers, intense, as if she can sense every tremor of your anxiety.

“Relax, doll.” Her voice is gentler now, a command softened by concern. She takes a sip, sets the glass down. You mimic her, letting the whiskey burn some of the fear away.

She leans back, eyelid’s hooded, the air between you thick with anticipation. She’s waiting–for you to bring it up, to ask.

You fold your hands in your lap, voice barely steady. “What happened last night, Sev?”

Sevika’s eyes flicker away, her jaw working as she searches for words. For a moment, you think she might shut down again, but then she sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“It’s… complicated,” she says, voice low, almost gravelly. “What you saw-” She stops, glancing at you, as if gauging how much you already know, or how much you can handle.

You grip your glass tighter, knuckles whitening. “I need to know, Sev. I need to hear it from you. I can’t keep pretending nothing happened.”

She leans forward, elbows on her knees, head bowed. The Sevika you know–the unshakable, commanding presence seems smaller now, weighed down by something you can’t name.

“I never wanted you to get dragged into this,” she murmurs, barely audible. “You weren’t supposed to see. Any of it.”

You swallow, heart thudding in your chest. “But I did. And I can’t unsee it.”

Her gaze snaps to yours, sharp and searching, as if she’s looking for any sign of fear or revulsion. “You’re scared of me.” It’s not a question.

You hesitate, then nod, honesty trembling in your voice. “A little. But I’m more scared of not knowing the truth.”

She lets out a shaky breath, her posture softening. “You always were stubborn,” she says, a ghost of a smile flickering across her lips before fading.

You manage a weak laugh, the tension in the room thick as fog.

Sevika’s eyes darken, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What I am… it’s not something I chose. It’s not something I’m proud of. But I’ve kept it hidden for a reason. For your safety. For mine.”

You lean in, searching her face for any trace of the monster you glimpsed–or thought you glimpsed-the night before. All you see is exhaustion, regret, and something achingly human.

“Are you going to hurt me?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

She shakes her head, fierce and immediate. “Never. I’d sooner hurt myself.”

A heavy silence settles between you, broken only by the distant city sounds filtering through the window.

You look down at your hands, then back at her. “So… what now?”

Sevika leans back, her expression unreadable. “That’s up to you, doll. You want answers, I’ll give them. But once you know, there’s no going back.”

You nod, resolve settling in your chest. “Tell me. I want to understand.”

For the first time all night, Sevika looks almost relieved. She picks up her glass, takes a long sip.

The silence between you stretches, taut and uneasy. Sevika’s gaze drifts to the window, the city lights glinting in her eyes. She doesn’t speak right away; when she does, her voice is barely above a whisper.

“There are things about me I can’t explain–not really,” she begins, words measured, careful. “Things I’ve carried for a long time. It’s not something you’d read about in a paper, or see in a movie. It’s… older than that. Heavier.”

You wait, pulse thrumming in your ears. “Sevika, I saw–” She cuts you off, a flash of something like fear in her eyes. “You saw more than you were meant to. I’m sorry for that.” She rubs her hands together, restless. “I try to keep it contained. Most days, I manage.”

You swallow, the air thick with questions. “Contained? What do you mean?”

She smiles, but it's a brittle mask that doesn’t quite fit. “Let’s just say I have… needs. Hungers. Not the kind you can fix with ordinary food or drink.” Her gaze flicks to you, searching, almost pleading for you to understand without asking more.

Your mind races, piecing together memories—the missing reflection, the way she moved in the dark, the chill in the air. “You’re a-” She shakes her head, almost violently. “Don’t say it. Names have weight. I’m still me, doll. I’m still the person you know. Just… with shadows you haven’t seen before.”

You notice her hands clenching, the tension in her jaw. She’s holding something back, something sharp and dangerous.

“Are you safe?” you ask, voice trembling.

Her answer is slow, deliberate. “I’m careful. I have to be. I don’t want to hurt anyone—not you, especially.” She looks away, voice thinning. “That’s why I keep my distance. Why I don’t let people get close.”

A silence settles, heavy with all the things she isn’t saying. You realize she’s given you just enough to keep you close, but not enough to set you free from wondering.

She finally meets your eyes, haunted and resolute. “I can’t give you more than that. Not tonight.”

You frown, desperate for answers, but before you can form another question, she cuts you off.

“That’s enough, doll.” Her voice is gentle, but there’s a finality to it that makes your chest tighten.

“Sev, please…” You reach for her hand, fingers curling around hers, clinging to the connection. “Don’t shut me out. I know what I saw-”

“I know you know,” she murmurs, her tone softening for a heartbeat. She slips her hand from yours and stands up, the distance between you suddenly vast.

Panic claws at your insides. She’s going to leave. You can feel it–a cold certainty. Something inside you begs you not to let her go.

“How do you feed?” The words tumble out, raw and intrusive, slicing through the heavy air. Sevika freezes, already halfway to the door. She turns, her expression unreadable, eyes shadowed.

She doesn’t speak at first, doesn’t move. The silence throbs.

“…How–?”

“Sheep’s blood,” she says at last, voice strained. “I… I use ferrous sulfate to mimic the taste of…” She trails off, but you know what she means. The truth hangs between you, sharp and metallic.

You nod, heart pounding. “Is it… hard to get?”

A bitter glint flickers across her lips. “Yeah. It is. But I can go months without it if I have to. Last night, I just… I hadn’t fed in a while.” Her words are brittle, shame threaded through every syllable.

You sit with this, the silence prickling your skin. Then, before you can stop yourself, you blurt out the thought that’s been lurking in the back of your mind.

“Why don’t you just… feed on me? If it’s easier.”

The room seems to contract, the air thickening until it’s hard to breathe. Sevika stands utterly still, her eyes darkening, something dangerous flickering in their depths.

“No.” Her voice is low, almost a growl.

“But–”

“No.” She takes a step closer, her presence suddenly overwhelming. “You have no idea what you’re offering. You can’t possibly understand what that would mean.” Her words vibrate with something wild, barely leashed.

You swallow, pulse racing, the reality of what you’ve suggested settling over you like a cloak. Sevika’s gaze is fierce, protective, and for the first time, you glimpse the full weight of what she’s been holding back—not just hunger, but fear. Fear for you.

You barely have time to draw a breath before Sevika is on you, her strength startling, pinning you against the arm of the couch. The world narrows to the press of her body and the wild, ravenous look in her eyes–a hunger that both terrifies and mesmerizes you.

Instinct screams at you to shrink away, but instead, you tilt your head, fingers trembling as you sweep your hair aside, baring your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding so hard you think it might burst.

You feel her breath hitch, a low, guttural sound escaping her. She leans in, her lips ghosting over your skin, and you shudder as her tongue flicks out, tracing a slow, deliberate line from your collarbone up the column of your neck. The contact is electric, sending a jolt through your nerves.

She sighs–a sound that’s almost a growl, inhuman, primal. Her mouth finds your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your pulse, her grip tightening at your waist. Her other hand is gentle, brushing your hair further aside, her touch almost reverent.

“I apologize for any… discomfort,” she murmurs, voice rough, vibrating against your skin. She presses one last kiss to your throat, and then you feel the sharp, decisive puncture as her fangs sink in.

A strangled gasp tears from your lips. Pain–sharp and blinding–blooms through you. But then the sensation shifts, ache melting into something strange and exquisite; a rush of euphoria that leaves you dizzy, weightless. Every nerve alight, every sense sharpened, the world dissolving into the heat of her mouth and the pounding of your heart.

You clutch at her shoulders, breath coming out in short, desperate bursts as she feeds. The room spins, your awareness narrowing to the rhythm of her drinking and the press of her body. The impossible intimacy of the moment terrifying, exhilarating, and utterly consuming.

When Sevika finally pulls away, you’re left gasping, your head spinning with a dizzying cocktail of exhaustion and something dangerously close to bliss. The world feels muffled, as if you’re underwater. Sevika’s face hovers above yours. Her lips stained, eyes wild and haunted.

Her chest rising and falling in ragged waves. For a moment, neither of you moves. Her hand lingers at your waist, steadying you, but her gaze is distant, as if she’s already retreating somewhere unreachable.

You reach up, fingertips brushing her cheek, searching for reassurance, for some sign that you haven’t just crossed an invisible, irreversible line. But Sevika flinches away, guilt and shame flickering across her features. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes squeezed shut.

“I shouldn’t have…” she whispers, voice raw. “I lost control. I’m sorry, doll. I’m so damn sorry.”

You try to speak, but your tongue feels thick, your body heavy and boneless. There’s a strange warmth blooming in your chest, a sense of connection that’s both comforting and terrifying. You can still feel the echo of her hunger inside you, the memory of her mouth at your throat.

“It’s okay,” you manage, though you’re not sure if you believe it. “I offered. I wanted to help.”

She shakes her head, jaw clenched. “You don’t understand. It’s not supposed to be like this. I’m not supposed to want–” She cuts herself off, standing abruptly. The loss of her touch is jarring, cold.

You watch her pace the room, running a trembling hand through her hair. The apartment feels cavernous, the silence between you thick and suffocating.

“Are you… are you alright?” you ask, voice small.

She stops, back to you. “I’ll be fine. You need to rest. Drink some water. If you feel dizzy, lie down.” Her tone is clipped, reverting to the Sevika you know from the office. Distant, controlled, untouchable.

You nod, but a lump forms in your throat. You want to reach for her, to bridge the gulf that’s opened between you, but your limbs are leaden, your mind foggy. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to look at her the same way again–if she’ll let you.

Sevika lingers in the doorway, silhouetted by the hall light. For a moment, you think she might say something more, offer comfort or explanation. But she just stands there, shadowed and uncertain.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” she says at last, voice barely audible. Then she slips out, the door clicking shut behind her.

You’re left alone in the quiet, the taste of copper still lingering on your tongue, your pulse fluttering like a trapped bird. The night presses in, thick with questions and fear and something you dare not name.

You close your eyes, replaying every moment, every touch, every word. The world feels irrevocably changed, the boundaries between fear and desire, trust and danger, blurred beyond recognition.

You wonder if you’ve saved Sevika from her hunger, or if you’ve only fed something far more complicated and dangerous.

taglist: @half-of-a-gay @sapphiccup @iamaboringrattat @spinback-kiva @theoreticalfreak @moodient @diouna @helaenabugmom @womenlover360 @sumisamente @thatsmadiculous @madzorwhatever @vkumi @boom58 @h2pinky @glittzygorilla @koralinebox @kay-khronicals @belldonic @rosebg @thehoneybeestings @sunflowerwinds @dyketoast @dvrkhcld @blasphemous-riot comment to be added to taglist for the final part :)

vi x gn!reader | jayvik

synopsis: you and viktor observe your partners get up to stupid shit.

a/n: very much based on vi and jayce being bookstreet when together.

"what are you doing?" viktor asks, seeing you perched by the window as you look out of it. "any interesting birds about?"

"yes, i'm a cat, haha," you reply dryly, shooting viktor an amused glance as he chuckles. "no, look." you gesture with your chin to vi and jayce who are currently on the roof of the opposite building. "i have a tale of idiocy to share."

"oh god," viktor sighs. "what happened?"

"so vi," you start, pointing to vi who's standing over jayce. jayce who happens to be creating something; he's creating wings. "said that she bets she could fly if she flapped her arms really fast and had a running start."

viktor already looks tired. "mhm, and did you say that's physically impossible?" he asks, and you nod solemnly.

"i did," you say. "and jayce backed me up...for a minute before vi somehow convinced him it was physically possible."

viktor shrugs. "not surprising. vi is very persuasive."

"unfortunately," you agree. "so they spent the afternoon drafting up plans for wings made of cardboard." you give viktor a look. "y'know, a prototype."

"of course," viktor says. "all good projects need one."

your lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile. "anyway, i'm watching to see the inevitable failure and rush out with medical aid."

viktor eyes you for a second, a little weary.

"won't bones be broken?" he asks and you shake your head, pointing at the large pool a few feet below. the height is enough to hurt but not to break any bones on impact.

"ah," viktor says, leaving you laugh as you pat his shoulder.

"my girl and your boy lose all semblance of intelligence when they're together." you tease and viktor laughs.

"well, they do share one braincell so of course it vanishes when they're together."

Sevika is my favorite character but it is hard for me to analyze her because I feel her ending is so unfitting for the rest of her writing and feels so forced it makes me second guess every other thing that was established about her, it is truly sad to me how the conclusion for such an interesting character ends up being imo a lazy way to tie lose ends for the rest of the abandoned Zaun vs. Piltover class war plot line.

I was thinking about this because I found this concept art of how Sevika would use Silco's office as her room after his death and it is so harrowing how for Sevika her entire life was Zaun's liberation.

The thing about her is, unlike Silco who at least had Jinx, she 100% sacrificed her whole personal life for revolution and thus perhaps her compromise to it was even higher than Silco's and then she becomes part of the same system that she spend her whole life fighting against? How do we make any sense of that?

I see Sevika leaving Vander, because of his refusal of fighting against Piltover, as such an important point for her character and I would argue probably the most important we see in establishing who she is, her ideologies and how much she is willing to sacrifice for that dream. Then Act 3 happens and it is such a weird watch for me because clearly the writing was trying to re-establish her as a sort of Vander figure with the whole "we don't hand over our own people" thing (even though I would argue her motivations where ideological while Vander's were personal), her giving a speech on Vander's statue, under his shadow. It feels like an attempt to make her into a "good-zaunite" by making her into a completely de-fanged version of herself and what that ends up meaning is her becoming non-threatening to the status quo and instead becoming part of the system, legitimizing it and therefore protecting it.

In this regard I think that Sevika choosing to follow Silco might be as important as her abandoning Vander. I find their relationship very interesting because they have similar ideologies and Silco is so dependant on Sevika and they both know it, for over 7 years she could have abandoned, betrayed or disposed of him but she didn't because she understood that violence was the only way to liberation and in that path she did all sorts of reprehensible things just like Silco for that ultimate goal again with the understanding that violence was necessary, she chose Silco because she understood that liberation would come through struggle not by manking deals with your oppressors like Vander did... And then just like Vander she ends up doing exactly the same thing, rendering all those years of struggle, all those actions, violence and atrocities meaningless.

And so for me most of what we knew of her character and what was established about her ideology becomes nonsensical when we see how she ended, either you take it as she completely betrayed herself and what she fought for her whole life or she was never the person the writing showed us her to be and just acted without thinking all those years (?). Furthermore we are shown just few episodes before the end how the people of the undercity don't even listen to her, so again it is just confusing how she ends up as a council woman for a city that doesn't even want her.

Ultimately if this was some sort of commentary about how revolutionaries can become sucked into politics and be de-fanged in favor of becoming part of the system rather than fighting it I could accept it even if I didnt like it but with how reactionary and anti-revolutionary s2 is, it just feels more like a "see? violence is never the answer! if you want change just become a diversity hire and change the institutions that oppress you from within!" /sarcasm

Oil & Water, cupcake

I was rewatching the "Vi in front of the council" scene from season 1 of Arcane. And it's just super funny to me. So the setup is:

Caitlyn: Silco is the big baddie of the undercity. The only reason why you didn't know was because Marcus was lying to you. Jayce: is upset about the bridge attack. He wants to go after Jinx with violent force. Mel: That could trigger war, war is bad. Caitlyn: is worried about the casualties. Mel: wants to negotiate with Silco now that they know what he wants.

Vi is outraged that they want to negotiate with Silco and storms off.

She then has her big oil and water conversation with Caitlyn about how Piltover and Zaun are like Oil and Water and they can never work together just like Caitlyn and Vi can never work out, making Caitlyn cry.

... and then the first thing Vi does is NOT to go back to the undercity. Nope. After just rejecting Caitlyn's offer to come up with a new plan together, Vi goes to Jayce, a different Piltie.

1.) It just intensely amuses me that after like 3 sentences of Jayce Vi immediately recognized him a kindred spirit who she could easily rope into a violent revenge plan. Against the stated wishes of both their girlfriends.

2.) I wasn't really deep into CaitVi discourse in season 1, so I wonder, did we talk about how Vi's speech about oil and water is complete bullshit? And I don't mean that in a meta way, I mean this as: Vi is bullshitting Caitlyn? Yes, I get blabla, Vi is feeling down, she's pushing Cait away. But actually from what is going on on a pure action point of view, Vi is telling Cait Pilties and Zaunites can't work out and then immediately turns around and teams up with a different Piltie to fight fellow Zaunite Silco together?

Like the problem was never that Vi is disappointed that the council didn't help her or that she doesn't think the relationship with Cait can work out. The real "problem" is here that Vi thinks Cait is too kind hearted and cares too much about collateral damage. (which, you know, is deeply ironic considering season 2...)

In that sense, the Oil and Water convo has shades of Vi ditching Caitlyn at the brothel. Deciving and distracting Caitlyn so she can do her own thing.

Vi wants to go after Silco at all costs. Mel is worried that going down after him will trigger all out war. Cait is worried that innocents will get hurt. Vi cares about neither of those things. She is deeply upset at the thought that the council might try to negotiate with Silco.

So she goes after Jayce because Jayce wanted to do the same things as her "We've been talking about talking for weeks now. They're still cleaning the blood off the bridge. When do we say enough is enough?"

I think it's worth noting how masterfully Vi manipulates the shit out of Jayce here. Praising him for being smart, telling him he is a victim (aka insiutating that he's allowed to strike back), suggesting that Cait would want him to strike when we know that is a total lie. [note that I don't think that is a bad thing, like I love Vander and think he likely has his own way of using charisma and I love Silco of course]

Another interesting thing of the council scene of course is that it already shows shades of "Vi thinks Poweder and Jinx are two different people and she's okay with selling out Jinx". That's why she gives Jinx's name to the council. That's why she tells Cait in season 2 that it's okay to take the shot on Jinx.

I think it's also worth noting just how many Zaunites Vi murderizes/helps murderize with the help of enforcers in the factory raid. Beyond just the kid.

And how many more people including children she likely helps send to Stilwater

after just complaining to Jayce how bad Stilwater is.

And after getting tons of Zaunites killed and arrested in her quest for revenge because she is mad that Silco "ruined" Powder, the first thing Vi wants to do is do more raid, kill and arrest even more people.

I want to shout this from the roottops: VI DOES NOT HAVE A SYSTEMIC VIEW ON OPPRESSION. Vi does not give a shit about the undercity people when it comes to pursing her own family goals.

I think it's interesting in the context of season 2, how these threads continue for Vi. Again similarity with Vi giving Jinx's name to the council in 1x08 versus saying she's in favor of killing Jinx at the beginning of season 2.

And how she's willing to carve a bloody path through the undercity with the help of enforcers just to hurt Silco and dismantle his shimmer production. (again at this point it was explicitly stated in the council scene that Silco's core goal is the Nation of Zaun, so Vi knows this and is apparently not impressed) So is her willing to take out the rest of the Chem Barons using the Grey really that different? The only difference is that Caitlyn makes her formally wear the uniform.

It's also interesting to read this in the context of the progression of Caitlyn and Vi's relationship. Like if you read Oil and Water not as a tragic breakup but as Vi lying to Caitlyn because she sees Caitlyn as being in the way of Vi's quest for revenge. Vi ditching Cait and feeling bad or not bad about it is a theme in season 1. It leads to Cait being kidnapped and Cait's mom being killed.

I can see how this leads to Vi's guilt. I don't really see the "family dinner scene" as necessarily "Vi is already deeply in love with Cait and so can't bear to see Jinx hurt her". But more as "Vi sees Cait as a relatively well meaning innocent who doesn't deserve this treatment and also Jinx is acting kind of unhinged".

Cait got Vi out of Stillwater, tagged along, Vi tried to ditch her, Cait saved her from being killed, Cait healed her, Cait got kidnapped by the Firelights, Cait tried to make things right via the council, Vi again tried to ditch Cait and started an ill fated revenge. And then Vi gets a front row seat for Cait's grief over her mom.

This is of course where in season 2 Cait starts showing obsessive and vengeful tendencies and a more prejudiced attitude towards Zaunites.

It's also interesting in how far the season 2 raids continue the threads of 1x08, on one hand Caitlyn still talking about avoiding additional bloodshed, but also it being a continuation of Vi's bloody "dismantle Shimmer" operation (that maybe ends up going too far/veering into the wrong direction).

So the question is when and Vi actually falls for Caitlyn. My personal take as a more casual/occasional CaitVi enjoying person who was never deep in the fandom.

I think Vi saw Caitlyn was hot but basically thought from the start that anything there was a bad idea. Plus she was distracted by her family goals.

I think Caitlyn had feelings very quickly, probably starting to blossom around the "I can tell you have a good heart".

I do think there's an element there of Vi seeing Caitlyn as this well meaning sheltered good thing, the one bright spot. Again especially since imo she's respulsed by Zaun and how much it has changed on her. And yes it's super frustrating that her not feeling attached to Zaun, not seeing the beauty in Zaun seems to include Ekko. Like she is clearly admiring the tree and everything, but her thirst for revenge against Silco is stronger. It seems to me like she still lumps Ekko in with the people who have changed on her and who she doesn't fully recognize and feel at home with.

I think there's some guilt there for having "dirtied up" Cait's life. (again once more: Vi doesn't have a systemic view enough to see Cait as inherently dirtly for being an oppressor of fully grasping that maybe Cait finds it easier to be optimistic and sweet and kind because she grew up cozily, imo she just sees a kindness that she's drawn to and maybe doesn't fully understand)

I'm curious if there was ever any thinking on Amanda's side that turning Cait dark would be an interesting challenge to Vi falling for Cait for her kindness but also Vi discounting/wanting to exclude Caitlyn from certain things maybe with the idea of "Cait is too kind for that, I should go behind her back".

For the record, I don't think that Vi's motivation is just "being pissy that Silco stole Powder or that Silco killed Vander and now rules in his stead". I do think she does on some level see the plight of the undercity, and her analysis/conclusion that Shimmer is at fault for everything just happens to be very shallow. (again repeat after me: VI DOES NOT HAVE A SYSTEMIC VIEW ON THE WORLD

Stop pretending she was an enlightened Marxist/leftist in season 1 when she spent a good chunk of season 1 being very much the opposite of that and blaming Silco while comparatively making excuses for Piltover)

she is sooooooo cute (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A BIRD WITHOUT A WING IS JUST A FUNNY LOOKING RAT, MH?

ig: d.ill.usion

ʚɞ 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 | 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ʚɞ

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞.

𝟏𝟖+ 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 & 𝒎𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒏𝒊

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

an incessant blaring sound interrupts your nighttime routine. at first, you assume its from the apartment building next to yours. but then the smell of smoke slowly infiltrates any crevice and vent it can seep through. the noises of people frantically exiting the building doesn’t quell the alarm. you feel horrible for thinking what a major inconvenience this is. half of your hair is set with curlers. you grab your purse, keys and phone and follow the crowd down the stairs safely.

once you’re in the night air, you thank whatever gods may exist, it wasn’t your building effected. firefighters flutter in and out of the apartment units sharing an alley with yours. the flames appear somewhat tamed. neighbors mindlessly chatter—speculating what could have caused the fire. EMTs already set up a barricade but it doesn’t stop human curiosity. folks pressing tightly on the wooden barricades and incessantly pestering cops, firefighters or EMTs for any update.

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

thirty minutes later, the flames have succumbed to the efforts of the firefighters. a lingering smell of smoke sits in the air. mud and water mix with the black ash on the building. you see familiar faces crying and holding each other. the firefighters did their best but half of the building got hit the hardest. guilt washes over you. here you felt inconvenienced by the alarm but people have lost most of their belongings and most likely have to start from scratch.

unexpectedly the crowd erupts with a thunderous clap and cheering. it takes no time to realize everyone is commending the firefighters for their hard work. you witness the civil servants peeling off their helmets one by one. it’s clear all of them are exhausted. then some women start dog whistling. with an arched eyebrow, you locate the firefighter causing all the chaos.

the woman stands over 6 feet. she already removed the top layer of the suit which dangles off one shoulder. the moonlight and street lights reflect off her brown skin glistening with sweat. you can hear the gulp of women, straight and queer, as the firefighter curls her fingers underneath her fitted and soaked white t-shirt. she brings the hem of her shirt to her face—wiping off sweat and lingering ash. the entirety of her abs are on display. without even straining you see a drop of sweat rolling down her stomach.

a few women start fanning themselves. you even witness one pushing her cleavage up for prominent display. you hear through the chaos someone announcing residents in your building are allowed to enter again. sighing your relief, you start following the crowd. someone grabs your elbow—trying to get your attention.

swiftly turning around, you’re met face to face with the firefighter causing the lustful gazes and audible desires. with the distance closed—you’re able to see the faded scars on her face and the beginning wrinkles on the corners of her eyes. something about her, her face, those intense grey eyes stirs familiarity in your core. she presents you with a crooked smile.

“don’t recognize me, stranger?” her voice emerges as if from the squashed flames themselves.

you narrow your eyes and let them inspect those features. her fluffy and long eyelashes. her silken black hair that frames her face. the richness of her skin tone provoking you to kiss every inch.

you gasp with recognition. “sevika?”

sevika lets out the tiniest chuckle and nods. her hand on your elbow remains. it sends warmth and comfort throughout your arm. now that you’ve placed the face—you cannot believe you did not connect the dots sooner. yes, she’s aged but she’s still sevika. maybe not your sevika but still the sevika you grew up with.

the same sevika who fiercely protected you and let you crawl into her bottom bunk. the same sevika who beat up the boys for touching you the wrong way. then wiping your tears away moments later. especially the same sevika that took you to the overlook and shared your first kiss with. your guardian angel you never stopped thinking about or hoping turned out okay.

“you’re a firefighter now?”

“well i’ve been one for ten years but yeah.” sevika hold on your elbow shifts, you almost cry, but she only moves her hand underneath it.

your eyes continue searching sevika’s. “i thought you might’ve moved away or…”

sevika knowingly crooks a smile. “or jail?” you cringe but sevika laughs. “yeah, well i came too close a few times. but must’ve had my own guardian angel or something because the last time i got arrested—the judge told me enough was enough. she sent me to some reform program. i ended up liking the firefighter gig so…permanently fighting fires.”

“i’m so proud of you, sev. really.”

“thanks, kid.” sevika takes one step back then inconspicuously checks you out. “maybe not a kid anymore. you’ve filled out well.” she reaches out with her free hand and lifts some hair away from your ears. “and you’ve grown into your ears.”

an instantaneous blush spreads on your cheeks and you swat sevika’s hand away. your fingers reach to situate your hair but sevika catches them. you watch as sevika brings your hand to her lips, pressing a tender kiss on your knuckles. the feel of those full lips sends signals all over your skin. it’s almost the same effect she unwillingly provoked on all those women. refraining from retracting your hand, you keep your eyes locked on sevika.

she only smiles. her lips spreading across your knuckles. dammit. sevika fully knows the effect she’s having on you. she drinks it in eagerly despite your limited reactions.

“you hurt or anything? you didn’t live in that building, right?”

you shake your head in response to both questions. sevika smiles again. “oh, good. not a damsel in distress anymore. i get off in an hour. you’ll still be up?”

blinking away your visible confusion, you think over her question. “um, probably, yeah? why?”

a laugh rumbles in sevika’s chest but it never escapes her lips. “because i wanna come over, pretty girl. it’s been so long. can you blame me for wanting to make up for lost time?”

“oh. no, i mean, yes.” you groan—feeling like that helpless teenager that always needed sevika around. “yes, you can come over. i’ll be up. im apartment 8C—ring the buzzer and i’ll come get you.”

sevika hums her acknowledgment then releases her hold from your hand and elbow. yet her touch doesn’t cease and she reaches for a few strands of hair. “it’s kinda unfair, ya know?”

“what’s unfair?”

“you’re outside in a robe and hair half done but still the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

placing a kettle on the stove, you reach for two mugs and a container of all your special teas. sevika won’t know, but you never offer anyone your good teas. tonight feels special though. you can feel those grey eyes boring into your back. in the hour and a half window sevika allotted you—you showered, finished with the curlers in your hair, and found a pair of your cutest pajamas. the ruffles on the hem of the shorts barely grazed the crease meeting your butt and thighs. maybe overly ambitious?

when you had greeted sevika at the front door—you could tell her eyes didn’t know what to take in first. in sevika’s mind you were the picture of femininity. pink cotton pajamas hugging your curves sinfully. the cute little bow on the camisole teasing her eyes. she hadn’t expected her heart to momentarily stop at witnessing a fray strand you missed in your curler set. and the way you smelled? a mixture of strawberries and coconut with the faintest dash of something earthy.

sevika’s always found hyperfemininity attractive in the women she dated and slept with. but it was something about you…you wore it effortlessly and without second thought. it was apart of you.

she took in your apartment but eventually found herself staring at you as you prepared the tea.

“need any help, pretty girl?”

the words linger in the air before settling into your skin. when did she get so comfortable with petnames? the kettle whistles pulling you away from the lustful thoughts. “i’m good, thanks. do you still take a heap of sugar and milk in your tea?”

sevika barks out a laughter and you cannot help looking over your shoulder to witness the melodic sound. “i guess some things don’t change. yeah, you know what i like.”

squashing your nerves, you carefully pack some tea herbs into a tiny meshed infuser. once they’re packed—you steadily pour water over them in the mugs. normally you’d watch the tea steep, darkening the water, but instead you carry the mugs over to sevika. placing them down carefully on the thrifted mahogany coffee table, you rush back into the kitchen grabbing a pint of milk, brown sugar and some shortbread cookies.

there’s a sudden warmth that appears behind you. before you can properly investigate a calloused yet familiar hand gently rests on your waist.

“you sure you don’t need help with that…sugar?”

you’re hopeless against the drawl of sevika’s words. the end of her sentence hitting with a double entendres. you cannot place a time sevika’s petnamed you, sugar. she awakens another level of curiosity and arousal within you. if only you could see the look on sevika’s face. the knowing smirk of her affect on you. her pupils dilating and darkening in a way you’ve never been privy to.

you cannot help the racing of your heart. or closing your eyes. you don’t even notice you’re leaning back into sevika’s comfortable warmth until her hand shifts towards the front of your hip. as if she’s catching you and relaying the same message: i miss you.

“yes, you can carry the sugar, sev.” the words somehow manage to crawl out after the long pause between question.

sevika barely grunts her response before reaching underneath your arm. she purposely leans forward. her hips now pressed against your butt. you feel the encompassing safety of her broad shoulders brushing on your neck. you find yourself holding your breath until she pulls away. her prosthetic arm, this one different than the one from the fire earlier, smoothly retrieves the sugar jar.

then she steps back, as if, nothing happened and walks nonchalantly back to the couch. she might as well have whistled with the cockiness oozing off of her. you shakily inhale, one, two, three, then exhale, four five six. jitters remain nonetheless.

you find sevika on the love seat and taking up space at that. yes, you technically have room to sit. but you’d be forced to sit directly underneath her. despite the presence of another sofa, you are both aware that is not how this dance flows.

as sevika already suspected, you delicately lower yourself in the couch cushion next to her. your thighs have no space besides pressed tightly against hers. you cannot tell if you’re hallucinating or can actually feel the warmth through her jeans. not wanting to address the obvious silence you begin prepping the teas. a crap ton of sugar and then enough milk the color turns almost a sandy color.

sevika intently watches your actions. your fingers moving with remembered fluidity. she likes the color you polished your nails. finding herself wondering how they’d juxtapose against the pinkness of your spread pussy. sevika cannot deny the intense arousal building within her. it came the second she spotted your face. it dwelled and grew with her longing to hold you and whisper how much she missed you.

every second spent in your presence reminded sevika why she never lasted long in previous relationships. it took her some therapy and time alone to realize she unintentionally looked for you in every kiss, every hug, every fuck. no one ever came close to the calming water you poured on her raging fire. she could not leave the apartment without, at least, holding your face and kissing you tenderly then passionately.

“i learned to make chai. authentic chai.” your carefully plucked words barely relieves the tension.

sevika tips her head a little. “you did? why?”

you blush and hand sevika her tea. the answer feels rather obvious. “you said whenever we got outta there—you’d make me your amma’s chai.” you stop there. you cannot bring yourself to finish. but you know sevika can deduce and fill in the rest.

“did it help?”

“help with what?”

“help you feel closer to me.”

the words linger between the two of you. sevika’s expertly laid her intentions out with a few words. the bait flops in your hands—far too easy to deny or resist.

you turn your head—finally meeting sevika’s gaze for the first time since she entered the apartment. you expected another cocky smirk. instead you’re met with rounded eyes of vulnerability. they almost pool sevika’s desperation. even if you had planned on lying, on denying the obvious, everything vanished. reflected back at you was the same fifteen year old girl you fell in love with.

“no. no, it didn’t. nothing did.” you whisper out the words. almost believing if you speak the truth you’ll awaken from a beautiful dream.

sevika rests her mug on the coffee table. mindful of the coaster present. you focus on the action but within seconds her hand, no longer on the mug, cups your face. it emanates the lingering warmth from her mug. even without thinking, you reach for her prosthetic arm rested on her lap. you settle it on your other cheek. the balance of cold metal and warm flesh somehow feels symbolic. or maybe you’re searching for too much meaning in reuniting with an old friend…lover?

the magnetic pull draws you both closer until your lips are slotted together. moving in synchronization as if 15 years haven’t passed. as if you didn’t only share one kiss. all the longing and aching over pours into the kiss. your heart somehow thumps rapidly yet feels calm and steady within its cavity. when sevika tenderly swipes her tongue against your plump bottom lip—you know in that instance you’d do anything she wanted.

you graciously part your lips with a whimper. you feel sevika hesitate before she parts your lips by an inch.

“you always sound like that, pretty girl?” sevika barely murmurs the question on your lips.

too impatient to answer or decipher what sevika means, you take the inch of space back and unite your lips once again. sevika laughs into the kiss and indulges the neediness. she is just as desperate, maybe even more. her hands ever so slightly tighten their hold on your face. a tiny whimper escapes once again as sevika tangles her tongue with yours. she responds with a eager grumble of her own.

sevika, testing the waters, pretends to pull away. your lips, without hesitation, chase after hers. you both do this dance until sevika manages to guide you into her lap. any hesitancy dissolves. you are reunited with an old flame and you’re desperate to kindle it and let it burn and consume you. straddling sevika’s hips, panting into the kiss, sevika presses one hand on your lower back—keeping you firmly in place.

letting your body make the decisions, not wrapped in the cloud of lingering doubt, you nip on sevika’s lower lip. sucking flesh between your lips as your tongue strokes the inner softness of her lip. you relish the feeing of sevika’s hand gripping your back. the little groan she emits. her shifting underneath—as if you’re already getting her hot and bothered (you are).

her grip still firm on your lower back—sevika tips her head back on the couch. her eyes remain closed as she processes the weight of her actions and of you in her lap. your own lips tingle as you analyze sevika’s face. a smile stretches on yours as you notice her thoroughly kissed and swollen lips. you’re already itching for another kiss. instead, patient as ever, your fingers work to remove the curlers from your hair. it’s no point in pretending you and sevika are not having sex tonight. curlers and sex don’t necessarily pair.

sevika eyes barely manage open as she feels the shift in her lap. she watches in intense fascination as you free your hair. there are varying curl patterns since some curlers where in place longer than others. your fingers delicate despite the slight panting on your chest. your nipples already pert in attention. you do not catch sevika’s gaze until you’re almost done.

she smiles without hesitation the second your eyes meet. her hands begin wandering up your sides. in the wake your camisole rides up with the action. goosebumps populate your skin. your fingers almost tremble pulling the last bobby pin. sevika drags you closer the second the final curl falls. your hair creates a curtain of privacy.

sevika rakes her eyes over the exposed skin and how your camisole rests underneath your breasts. “can i take this off, pretty girl?”

an immediate nod comes from you. “please, yes.”

sevika moans. she moans at your eagerness and how willing you are to trust her. the surprise only lasts momentarily as sevika’s peeling off the tiny fabric. you watch her lips fall apart with a flux of emotions on her face. once the shirt is freed from your hair—sevika opens her mouth to ask for permission.

your hand cradles the back of sevika’s neck and draw her closer to one nipple. “you don’t have to ask permission, sev. i want what you want.”

sevika moans again with the permission. you effortlessly taking control of what you want—turns sevika on more than she’s ready to admit. nonetheless her lips circle around your nipple. her tongue darts around the bud. it earns her the response of you bucking your hips and pushing her closer to your breast. she gladly obliges.

her lips suction your nipple with a little more pressure. a hand comes to cup the neglected breast. palming and kneading with expertise. her large hand encompasses in a way you don’t think any lover has before. her teeth carefully experiment with nibbling on your nipple. you whine in response.

your hips move on their own accord. the combined sensation of teeth, tongue, lips and her hands leaves you desperate and wanting. you relish in the feeling of her jean crotch providing the perfect friction to your needy grinding. sevika groans into your nipple once she connects the dots.

her lips move from your nipple. a string of saliva leaving a connection. she lifts her eyes to yours. a sound traps in your throat seeing the pure need in sevika’s eyes.

hushed and rushed words tumble from sevika’s lips. “i need to make you feel good, baby. please. please can i taste you?”

you are positive sevika’s never had such desperation in her words. because you know no one in their right mind could deny her. but with you…she’s uncertain. the years of yearning bubbling over into this precise moment. you capture her lips in response. trying to say; yes take everything, all you need and want, drink and fill yourself.

with grace of a ballerina—sevika turns the tides and she’s standing with you in her arms, bridal style. you don’t even have the opportunity to be thrown off guard. she moves around your apartment as if she’s walked in this space numerous times. sevika locates your room without instruction.

she lowers you on the bed like a delicate flower. you’re tempted to protest but you give her the grace. you both deserve a tender reunion. sevika hastily steps out of her jeans. she stands before you in her navy boxers and a black shirt. your breathing matches hers with built up tension and anticipation. sevika moves closer to the bed and you begin crawling backwards.

she catches your ankle, shaking her head. “not yet, baby.”

sevika kneels at the edge of the bed on the floor. understanding without her saying much, you position yourself where she placed you before. sevika nuzzles her cheek against the inside of your knee. your fingers find solace in her strands. your nails softly scratching at her scalp. with your soothing yet tingling touch sevika begins her journey of kisses up your thighs. interchangeably switching sides until her lips meet the hem of your shorts.

sevika’s eyes travel the length of your body and her lips spread into a smile as you lift your hips. chuckling lowly, sevika parts with enough space to remove your shorts and underwear in one swift motion. she loses her breathing at the sight of you bare before her. the tussles of hair on your mound travel down to your lips. sevika gently widens your thighs. her action reveals how drenched you are. she can hear the slick separating between your folds. her mouth salivates at the sight and sound.

her hands massage at your thighs eliciting a trembling moan from you. you whimper, looping one leg on sevika’s shoulder. digging the heel of your foot into her shoulder blade to draw her near.

“don’t make me beg, sev. come on…”

sevika groans and circles her arms around your thighs, tugging you closer off the edge of the bed. “i’m sorry, princess. i don’t mean to make you wait. let me fix that.”

she presses a chaste kiss on your clit. you’re about to admonish her for teasing but your words are caught in your throat. sevika roughly drags her tongue up the length of your cunt. she moans deeply as your taste floods her mouth. now paired with your scent, sevika knows she will never get enough. her fingers firmly grip into your thighs and she feasts.

her tongue expertly explores every single inch it can reach. she starts with the languid yet pressured licks. each lick causes you to buck into her mouth. too unaware you could potentially bust her upper lip. not that sevika cares either. she switches her methods and uses the tip of her tongue to tease circles on your clit. she basks in the heavy moan you release as she focuses on your clit. your hips move in faint circles meeting each stroke of her tongue. one hand remains in sevika’s hair—softly caressing her hair or on occasion tugging on the silk-like strands.

sevika whimpers into your cunt as you play with her hair. her whimpers vibrate on your clit in such a sensual way. it produces a high pitched whine that you’ve never heard from yourself. even sevika briefly paused to fully appreciate the noise that graced her ears. nonetheless she returns to worshiping your clit. as she sucks it between her pursed lips, her own hand snakes down into her boxers.

not at all surprised with the pool of her own arousal. her calloused fingers rub an immediate circle around her clit. she’s so wet and sensitive she can barely feel the roughness embedded on her fingertips. but that’s not the stimulation she’s seeking. the second sevika’s tongue dips inside your cunt—her two fingers push past her entrance. you and sevika simultaneously groan. sevika allows you the opportunity to arch off the bed and grind down on her tongue. the warm and wet muscle teasing that special, squishy spot inside of you. her own fingers knuckles deep inside herself.

sevika almost cries into your pussy with the overwhelming sensations. riding her own fingers while you ride her tongue. through the haze in her eyes sevika witnesses the beauty of you chasing your desires. she wants you to topple over on her tongue continuously. if she could, she’d put brush to canvas and honor this moment forever. it only instills in sevika she must never depart from your life again.

your fingers tug sevika’s hair. sevika replies with a whimper and somehow understands the frantic look in your eyes. her lips return to your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure. she witnesses your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. her own hips speeding up in hopes of climaxing with you. sevika’s tongue dashes across your clit occasionally intent on seeing you lose control with the added stimulation.

“seeeev!” your back arches off the bed and your thighs squeeze her head in place.

those manicured nails sevika adores so much scrape over her scalp. she moans with the stinging sensation. her fingers make squelching noises as she works them rapidly. you’re too lost in the heights of your climax. unable to register sevika is fucking herself as her mouth sends black spots over your vision.

sevika, relentlessly, obliges after hearing a pleading whimper. her lips leave a departing kiss on your clit before pulling away. but sevika continues grinding on her fingers. she bites into your thigh as she chases her own release. it takes everything in you to prop up on your elbows. your eyes watch in widened excitement.

she catches your gaze and you forget how to breathe. the unadulterated need and yearning in those grey eyes set you off for another round. sevika seems to read your thoughts before they even form. she carefully retracts her fingers then climbs on the bed. sevika helps guide you towards the center of the mattress.

“you flexible, pretty girl?” sevika questions. her soaked fingers teasingly run through your folds.

“depends. why?”

sevika smiles too wide for it being such a loaded question. she spreads your legs wider then hovers a little above you. you instinctively press your hand into the shell of her lower back. urging the woman to apply more of her weight. sevika happily follows the non-verbal instruction. she sighs at the feeling of your body.

her intentions soon become clear as sevika presses her swollen and perturbed clit on your mound. you let out a shaky gasp at the sensation. sevika reaches underneath your knee and lifts your leg on her shoulder. a guttural moan escapes you from the unexpected stretch.

“fuck, i’m sorry, baby. too much? i can stop.” sevika is already attempting to lower the leg.

without hesitation you grab sevika’s wrist and shake your head. “no, please. i need to see you come. please…use me.”

sevika bucks her hips with the unexpected words you bestow on her. she leaves the leg on her shoulder. her works to find the perfect rhythm and fluidity to grind her clit down. she eventually settles on moving her hips up and down. it allows both your clits to feel stimulated when she drags down. her prosthetic fingers dig into your thighs as her hips work in momentum. once you’ve grown accustomed to sevika’s pacing—you lift your hips to meet her halfway.

you almost drool at the sight of sevika’s head thrown back in ecstasy. the rhythmic bumping of your clits. the sensitivity it invokes—one you’re bound to chase for the rest of your life. sevika lets out the tiniest mewl. it sounds so unlike her, you almost question, if it came from you. yet her eyes are half hooded and eyebrows scrunched as if in concentration. a thin layer of sweat shines on her face. she’s majestic.

sevika attempts to focus her gaze on you. a pleading tone laced into her words. “baby…baby…gonna…pl-please…”

you refrain from the shit eating grin wanting to overtake your face. “asking me to come, sevi-baby?”

biting her lip, sevika nods shamelessly, needing the permission. craving the permission from her most special girl. “please…”

“you’re perfect, sevika. i’ve missed you. go ahead, beautiful. come for me. let me see you…”

sevika turns her head into the propped leg on her shoulder and messily kisses the tender flesh. you continue meeting her hips despite sevika forgoing any sort of rhythmic pacing. she whispers incoherent love rambles and gratitude. a moan trapped in sevika’s throat gives away her platitude. she slams her hips into you, as if, coming inside of you.

her body tenses above you right before moans bubble from her lips. eventually her tension alleviates to waves of trembling. you remove your leg from her shoulder and instantly sevika collapses atop of you. her legs slotted with yours. you feel just how wet this ordeal made her.

sevika nuzzles her nose into neck. your fingers trace nonsensical shapes over her back. overtime your hearts sync as you listen to each others breathing.

“my pretty girl…it’ll be until death do us part before we are separated again.” sevika whispers the promise into your neck.

an exhausted yet satiated smile tickles your cheeks. “is that a marriage proposal, sevika?”

sevika cheekily nips the sensitive skin of your neck. “and a promise, sugar.”