Stuck With Me

Thank you Cari Roccaro for posting this gem

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I’m so gay

Pazzi being fine shyt’s, Paige drafted #1, Kaitlyn & Aubrey drafted AND sedona not being drafted?

look at god

paige bueckers x gf!reader texts pt.3

everytime a thought pops into my head or i get bored i make these idk. anyway yes this is me distracting everyone from the fact that i still haven’t updated mission jealousy

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— 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

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Hello! Could I ask about scenario where The Joker has been very distant lately to Y/N always busy and almost never around her anymore which left reader very confused and upset. (((Now obviously he’s not cheating or anything like that he’s just too busy with his sick twisted plans on how to take over Gotham or something —but ohh well your insecurities get the best of you))). It’s been about good 3 months since she saw him he wasn’t replying to her texts and when you called him it always directed you to voicemails. It could be only two things he could’ve moved on from you or he is too damn busy to even pick up your calls…. So you decided to go on a date with some rando to push your feelings aside. Because at the same time, you couldn’t just sit around and wait for The Joker, that was just stupid. You aren’t even sure what’s going on?? It was exciting at first, in the heat of the moment because you were a bit attention-starved to be fair. But now as you’re getting ready you’re having second thoughts about it all and how risky it could be. Joker is a very very jealous and possessive man and he could be literally everywhere you knew he had his goons looming around you to make sure you’re safe. But you gulped those thoughts away and went out anyways. Well that was worst decision of your LIFE as long behold he found out …..now it’s up to you how you continue and interpret all this because I’m really bad at it (sooo sorry) he either ruins the date or is waiting for reader at her apartment….literally however you want it you can even change some stuff in the middle I really don’t mind 🙏🙏 I just need more jealous joker in my life (I have serious issues) it could be angst fluff smut🤭🤭🤭🤭or even everything as I said I really don’t mind. Thank youuuuu✨💕🪷

His Lighthouse: J Stands for Jealous (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

J Stands for Jealous - Oneshot

Did someone ask for some Jealous!Joker wayy back on Sept 5th? I come bearing gifts with an unexpected twist!! 🤧 please don’t hate me anon if you don't like it!

Get ready for some angst, fluff, and of course Jealous!Joker but not in the way you think... I won't lie this was a tricky request to fill but in the end, I went a different route with jealousy! I hope you enjoy! 🖤✨

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist!

The number you have dialed has a voicemail box that has not been set up yet. Please try calling again later.

You groaned in frustration and tossed your phone on the bed. If your hair wasn’t up in protective braids you would’ve ran your hands through your hair. When did it get like this? Calling, waiting up, and wishing for a smidgen of communication from Joker– only to receive absolute silence?

Joker being distant was putting things mildly. He had up and ghosted you.

One night you were kissing him goodbye and the next GCN reported that Joker had gone M.I.A. Funny how he was seen two days later shooting at Batman’s tank of a car down Dini Hwy but sure.. Joker was ‘missing.’

Joker was actively terrorizing Gotham City streets, he was only M.I.A from your life. A part of you wanted to create a missing person’s report but that wouldn’t end well.

The entire GCPD force would be breaking down your door by the time you uttered, “Yes, I haven’t seen my boyfriend, The Joker, in months.

You weren’t quite sure who put a label on this ill fated relationship but the minute it was established, everything started to fall apart.

You would lie awake at night thinking about the downfall to you and Joker’s relationship. Maybe you should have been content with the uncertainty and kept things vague. Not knowing where you stood with the infamous clown— but still together, was better than a missing boyfriend and an empty bed.

You found yourself watching the news like a drug addict trying to catch a glimpse of your man to make sure he was alive and well.

Perhaps he was just busy with his sick twisted plans on how to take over Gotham or whatever he does when he’s out messing with Batman. You couldn’t bear the thought of Joker cheating on you.

If Joker was cheating on you with Batman, you’d kill your self with a spoon but J really wanted the vigilante dead so you breathed a bit easy on that front.

That didn’t stop you from freaking out anytime Joker grabbed a female on live tv. You watched with an envious eye for any inkling of Joker being attracted to her. Killing the poor girl put your mind at ease but then you’d feel awful for your lack of remorse. For now Joker had eyes only for you. But how long would that last was the burning question.

It became a vicious cycle of waiting for Joker to come home, calling his cell, it going to voicemail, or him straight up ignoring your texts, to crawling into bed and trying not to cry about it. But you couldn’t deny the inevitable.

Joker abandoned you and you weren’t some heartbroken blonde in an early 2000’s romcom.

You refused to cry and mope around the penthouse. You would not stoop to eating buckets of ice cream and gorging on assorted candies to overcome your heartache.

You happened to be a young, sexy, and intelligent woman of color with access to online dating apps! There were plenty of eligible men in Gotham who would kill to be with you.

You can and would move on. Screw Joker and his inability to provide basic necessities in a relationship. Being present was a requirement!

Your hurt feelings morphed into petty vengeance and you snatched your phone from where you tossed it earlier in a blind rage.

Your thumb hovered over Bruce’s profile until you sighed and scrolled past it. No matter how much you wanted to rebound date anyone to get over Joker, Bruce didn’t deserve your toxic energy.

So you kept scrolling until you found the DO NOT CALL EVER AGAIN and the GURL HAVE YOU NO STANDARDS contacts. You should have deleted these contacts ages ago but you simply forgot.

You almost hit the dial icon on one of them until you swore you heard the front door slam shut– but alas it was just your broken heart playing tricks on you.

Joker wasn’t coming back and you had to accept that to move on. Your thumb hovered over one of your past tinder hookups.

“This is stupid! Just call the number, Y/n. If he answers, then flirt! He’s a classic tool, he definitely won’t care if this is only a one night stand. Get what you need from him and onto the next one!”

Your pep talk was good but you just couldn’t commit. Even after Joker left you high and dry, it felt wrong to move on.

You threw your head back and groaned at the ceiling.

Why did you have to love Joker so much?! You still clung to the possibility of him returning and loving you unconditionally but that was a fool’s dream.

“He’s gone Y/n. Maybe a walk will help clear my head and do me some good.” It seemed to be a tried and true coping mechanism whenever your head was in a tizzy. It's what got you in this relationship in the first place.

You went out to clear your head and met Joker that fateful night. If the chance rose to go back in time and avoid meeting Joker, you’d hesitate to do so.

He gave you so many fond memories. You couldn’t erase that even if it saved yourself from heartbreak now.

You donned some good walking shoes that matched your current outfit and headed down to the ground floor.

It was a beautiful morning and you let your mind disconnect to breathe in some fresh air. This is what you needed. Some time spent outside and not cooped up in your depressing apartment thinking about your failed relationship.

You felt more like yourself already the longer you stayed out.

You were mindless during your wandering and didn’t notice your surroundings until strong hands grabbed and yanked you back onto the sidewalk.

You yelped at the unexpected rescue and tuned out the honking and the slew of curses a taxi driver shouted at you through his window.

What did your carelessness cause this time? You were using the designated crosswalk and you had the right of way, so what gives?

Your eyes followed the bulky arms still holding you, up to a handsome face animated in concern. It was then you noticed the guy who saved you was talking.

“—be more careful! These taxi drivers don’t yield to pedestrians anymore. Hey.. are you listening to me?” He eyed you up and down, mostly in concern but admiring your beauty all the while.

You were doing the same. A ray of sunlight beamed down and highlighted your hero’s honey brown eyes and you blinked in awe at his model-like features staring at you.

Finally someone was giving you attention and the man was drop dead gorgeous. Who could blame your brain for malfunctioning?

He smirked at your lack of response and flashed his pristine teeth your way. He was checking off all of your requirements for a potential partner so far or perhaps your standards were just at an all time low. A flaw of your separation anxiety no doubt.

Joker was the last thing on your mind when this man was in front of you giving you attention.

“Uh sure.. um.. T-Thank you.” You said after a few beats of awkward silence.

“Don’t thank me just yet. I gotta say, I’m thinking impure thoughts about you.” He said.

You quirked an eyebrow at his brute honesty although his baritone voice made you forget in an instant. You were a sucker for a sexy voice and much to your delight, he kept talking.

“Sorry, has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are? Because d__n. You are.”

Another checkmark on the ‘yup he’s datable list.’

What were the odds of someone as attractive as him showing you affection ever again? You were lonelier than ever before and quite frankly you were ready to risk it all for an ounce of attention.

You ducked your head to hide your smile and he wanted nothing more to tilt your chin up and see it in all its glory.

Your smile was so radiant, he was a goner at a mere glimpse.

“I’d love to know your name, your number..” He sucked his teeth and admired your beauty, “your favorite position in bed…”

He probably meant to say that last part more so to himself but you still heard it.

You had to pump the brakes on that one. “Easy there.. At least take me out to dinner before you slut me out.” You laughed in jest but he leaned into your personal space, taking your words seriously.

“Oh bet? What’re doing later?”

Wait, that pickup line actually worked? You were so out of practice.

You shielded the sun from your eyes and stared up at your newfound crush. He was waiting for a response with a flirtatious grin etched on his face. So you gave him an answer.

“You tell me. What do you have in mind?” You flashed him another smile that rivaled the sun.

He chuckled and subtly moved so he blocked the sun rays for you. A small gesture that you instantly noticed. He was tall but not overly so like Joker. You hated your brain for comparing this new guy to your estranged clown but you couldn’t help it.

Would this be a new habit; comparing insanity to normal? You really missed Joker..

“Confident and sexy. I like that. How about…” The guy dug inside his pockets and procured a business card. He clicked a pen and jotted something down on it before handing it to you.

You were so caught up in his charm that you didn’t acknowledge his attire.

He was dressed for the office with his dress shirt folded up to his forearms, showing off veins that made you swoon, and a hint of ink crawling up his bicep. The writer in you was having a seizure.

He was the perfect sexy corporate alpha male and he locked down the troupe by handing you his business card with a wink.

“Get home safely, call or text me– whichever you prefer sunshine, and we’ll make plans for tonight. Sounds good?” He waited until you read the embossed cardstock in your hand.

Tristan J. Price. | Marketing | Court OwlHouse Books

You knew the publishing company personally. They presented you with a nice offer before Cindy counter offered with a contract you couldn’t refuse. You pocketed his phone number and nodded.

“Yeah, it sounds great! I don’t have a card but um.. my name’s Y/n.” You played with one of your braids and went for it. “I’ll call you later, Tristan.”

He tested your name on his lips. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I look forward to it.”

You gave him a small wave and began walking back the way you came. Something told you to look back and sure enough, Tristan was watching you leave, biting his lip. He had no shame at being caught. His smile just grew bigger as he sent another wink your way.

A whirlwind of butterflies were going crazy in your stomach. You finally had options besides Joker for a partner. Things were looking up for once after all these months spent alone.

You flushed in embarrassment and turned the corner– not once noticing your undercover security detail watching your every move and reporting in.

Above all, Tristan was a gentleman and a shameless flirt.

You didn’t waste time and called him the second you got home. He was more than pleased with your eagerness.

“I’m glad you’re home safe, sunshine. Now let’s talk business. Any allergies I need to be aware of? I really want to go all out and take you somewhere nice. You are definitely worth maxing my credit card.”

You laughed and tried not to let the nickname used get to you.

A subconscious part of you was still Joker’s Light, his bunny and every other pet name in between. You had no business being someone’s sunshine. It felt like you were betraying Joker.

Talking and flirting with someone else was an act of betrayal and you began to have second thoughts about all of this.

“Girl! Joker has clearly moved on! Get over him and let Tristan bend you over!” Your mini devil appeared on your coffee table and tried setting you straight.

She enlisted help from her arch nemesis and you were shocked when your figurative angel materialized next to her, nodding along.

“She has a point Y/n. It's been months. It's time to move on although.. I suggest taking this slow so no bending on the first date.” She glared at your imaginary devil in disdain.

Tristan stole your attention when he asked if you had been to a certain restaurant. You totally forgot you were on the phone with him! You were quick to reply and shake your head clear of any imaginary angel and devils talking to you.

You and Tristan talked all afternoon and at one point you asked if you were keeping him from work.

“Technically I’m on a very important conference call Y/n..”

You could see his flirtatious smirk over the phone and your heart warmed knowing you were important enough to take up his entire day.

You didn’t mind the long conversation since you've been alone for months and needed human interaction. You honestly didn’t care that things were progressing way too quickly with Tristan. It beat moping around with a broken heart and wishing for Joker to return.

Tristan was a breath of fresh air and offered you a new start in your dating life. You were ready to jump all in even if it was risky.

You nodded and answered his question. “Yeah Σtella is perfect. Will you make the reservations for us or let me guess. You know a friend of a friend that can get us a table on short notice?”

He laughed to himself but mentioned he did have connections, ‘None like that I’m afraid.’

You could tell the connections were nothing nefarious since Tristan didn’t have a single criminal bone in his body. After being around Joker for so long you could single out people’s evil intentions. It was one of the many habits you had to quit cold turkey.

It would take some time to purge Joker from your life but you had to. He abandoned you and you couldn’t dwell on it anymore.

Tristan ended the call to make the dinner reservations. He offered to pick you up but you politely declined.

Something told you it was best to keep him far away from the apartment until you knew for certain that Joker wasn’t coming back. You were still optimistic that your dark clown would return and things would go back to normal but until then, you had to fend for yourself and take care of your own needs.

A black dress was selected from your closet with a low back. It would go great with your braids and the heels you already picked out. You spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready and desperately trying to shake off your cold feet.

Halfway through your glam session, Tristan texted you with a time and a suggestive line about saving room for dessert.

It made you flush red and make a split decision to change your underwear into something more racy.

If tonight was just dinner that was okay but if Tristan turned out to be a man of action and not just all talk, then you wanted to be prepared. You could be a slut for one night. It’s secretly what you wanted.

You twirled in the mirror and liked what you saw. A strong confident woman moving on and taking the initiative.

You liked Tristan and he made it very clear that he liked you too despite just meeting earlier in the day. He wanted to see where this could go and you readily agreed being attention and touch-starved due to Joker’s absence.

You were ready to date again but you did stop and consider the possibilities of Joker finding out.

Joker was very possessive and he had eyes and ears all over Gotham City. It would be nothing for him to find out you were going on a date but his actions as of late showed that he didn’t care anymore. Joker ignored your numerous phone calls and texts.

Each one went unanswered. It was safe to say you were single now so you would act accordingly.

But with all the guesswork floating in the air, you weren’t going to think about Joker tonight. He was banned from your mind. Tonight you were going to have fun and enjoy yourself with another man and begin anew.

Tonight was about you and your needs. If Joker couldn’t provide, you’d go out and find someone who could. You kept that thought in mind all the way to the restaurant.

“I still think that waiter was staring at you too much. I get it, you are stunning– d__n, this dress will be the death of me– but my brother. She’s on a date with me. I’m the luckiest man alive!”

You tried your best to ignore his happiness and keep things cordial. The two of you had come to a stop at the main entrance to your apartment complex.

“This is me.” You pointed to the locked door.

Tristan admired the tall white building with a nod but there was an awkward air floating between the two of you. You just wanted to go home, Tristan was expecting more from the date.

Unfortunately Tristan was terrible at reading your body language. Or maybe you were just a good actress.

“Y/n did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?” It was a lame excuse to stay in your presence a little bit longer. You awkwardly laughed and dodged his hand reaching up to hold your cheek.

By all accounts dinner was textbook perfect. Tristan was ever the gentleman all night but his eyes were anything but. He listened to you talk and sprinkled in his opinions all the while complimenting you as a person.

There was a connection between the two of you and he made sure the conversation kept flowing to allow that spark to grow. Yet his eyes devoured you as if you were the main course and gave away his true intentions.

You wished his lust could ignite a flame within you; it didn’t.

The food was amazing and you lost the fight on who would foot the bill. Tristan simply winked and said you could pay next time.

He was so confident that there would be a next time, you found yourself almost agreeing on another date. Everything was just so natural with Tristan. Normal was… nice but you longed for the unpredictable insanity that Joker brought to the table.

You shook your head in frustration. No matter how much you tried to forget about Joker, he was always in the corner of your mind, bearing down with his larger than life presence.

Even in the restaurant you felt like he was watching your every move.

You knew Joker’s stretch of power knew no bounds. Your stomach was in knots at the thought of being discovered. Joker’s goons could be anywhere; Joker could be seated at any of these tables ready to ruin your date, kill everyone in the vicinity, and drag you back home.

The possibilities were endless and before you knew it, you were in the early stages of a panic attack until Tristan cupped your cheek and distracted you.

Tristan was right there with his suave demeanor and sultry smirks.

“You okay sunshine? I hope you’re not having second thoughts about the chef’s choice. If you don’t like it, you can always order something else.” He smiled in the low lit room.

Any girl would fall head over heels for a man like Tristan. He was attractive, successful, and he had an air about him that was alluring. He was the perfect man, that is, if you liked boring.

Joker spoiled you for other men. You could never go back to charming businessmen or witty accountants.

You didn’t want someone you could bring home to Mom. You were hooked on grease paint, cigarettes, heartache, and dark clowns that blew up hospitals for fun.

It was either before the main course or after one of Tristan’s stories about his latest project that you realized, this wasn’t going to work.

You smiled through the date out of respect and waited until he walked you home to let him down softly.

Tristan was a great guy, just not for you. Even worse the guy was oblivious to the fact you weren’t interested anymore.

He was unfazed by your chance in demeanor and flicked a wayward braid back over your shoulder. “I’ll tell you again, you are gorgeous. I'm kinda tempted to take this dress off and see what’s underneath. I bet she’s beautiful too.”

He moved in to hug you while you stiffened up in his arms. His attempts at flirting were now trashy and rude in your mind.

You didn’t want Tristan anymore. You wanted Joker’s warm arms holding you close— although gou felt awful for still craving Tristan’s attention. It was all you had. Could beggars be choosers?

Your hands wrapped around your date against your better judgment. You’d regret this later for sure.

Your eyes wandered around the area as you berated yourself for stringing Tristan along.

Hugging him back went against your plans of kicking him to the curb and going upstairs to sleep off this terrible date. Your citygirl plans of moving on were all for naught and you wasted perfectly good lingerie for a lame rebound date.

The street lights were on and oddly enough, it was just you and Tristan on the street. The area usually had foot traffic even at such a late hour but it didn’t register in your brain as odd. It was only when Tristan’s hands moved to cup your backside that you locked eyes with a figure across the way.

He had a hood on but you saw him shaking his head at you in disappointment.

He lifted his head and your eyes widened seeing the familiar clown mask Joker always left lying around the penthouse after heists. That’s when dread settled in your stomach.

You forgot Joker had eyes and ears everywhere. How could you be so stupid?

He never left. You yelped and pushed Tristan away.

“Woah! Is everything okay, sunshine?” Tristan held up his hands while you began to hyperventilate on the sidewalk.

You didn’t imagine things. Joker was still in your life. He was the most jealous man you ever met and you did the unthinkable and gave him a reason to be angry. You weren’t safe. Tristan's life was in danger.

“I-It’s not safe. I-I-I have to go…” You rambled on.

Tristan arched an eyebrow as you stumbled over your words. He couldn’t understand a word you were saying but he knew all too well what was going on here.

“I get it.” He smiled and gained your attention with his calm attitude. “I got competition, I’m not surprised. I mean look at you! You are… something else.” He frowned when you continued to look away.

He hoped he wasn’t being too forward but he felt the spark between the two of you.

Tristan leaned down and kissed you on the lips. It was passionate and sweet, a tad bit addictive but you were too mortified to acknowledge that aspect.

“Have a good night, Y/n. I’ll text you later.” Tristan gave you one more glance and walked away, leaving you frozen in place.

Tristan had it all wrong. There was no competition however he just signed his death certificate kissing you just then.

You were worried about your psychopathic, jealous boyfriend killing Tristan and then you for cheating. Joker had explicit rules. No one touches what’s his.

Not only did you go on a date with someone else, you let that same man kiss you. You knew exactly what was in store for you.

Your eyes darted back across the street where you last saw the goon. They were gone and that sent icy cold fear in your veins. It was only a matter of time that Joker found out about your little tryst.

You were counting the days to your death.

You couldn’t sleep to save your life.

It had something to do with the fact that you tossed and turned, gave up and paced the room back and forth, sat up expecting a phone call, text, heck; even a visit from your jealous clown all night. But nothing came.

Surely your security detail had already reported his findings to Joker.

If you opened a dictionary and searched for Jealousy, a picture of Joker would be present. It was only a matter of time before J flipped out. You kissed someone else. Joker would be livid.

The silent anticipation was the worst.

You chewed your nails to the quick expecting Joker to barge into your penthouse and go insane. Scared was an understatement. You were petrified of Joker’s wrath.

For two days, you walked on eggshells expecting Joker’s return. He didn’t and as the days grew in number, you panicked all the more.

Tristan also ghosted your phone calls and texts and you mourned the potential romance you gave up all because you were spooked.

You didn’t question what you saw that night. You knew Joker’s gang mask by heart and Joker was overly protective for it to be some fluke. He made sure you had a security team to watch over you at all times no matter the circumstances. He would find out soon enough.

Waiting for Joker’s arrival was driving you insane to the point that every little noise made you jump.

It was nearing a full week after your failed date when you gave up and lowered your guard. You cut your losses and decided to stop living in fear. A good nap could calm your nerves.

The remnants of the day were bleeding from the sky in warm pastels when you woke up. The room was quiet until the bathroom door opened and your eyes darted over in fear.

Joker was walking out the bathroom, already dressed in loose sweatpants and nothing else.

He was towel drying his hair but immediately locked eyes with your frightened ones once he stepped into the room.

Time stood still as your brain caught up with the moment. You weren’t dreaming. Joker was actually here. You weren’t ready to face him.

Granted this was not how you expected to reunite with Joker after three months of radio silence and especially after your brief moment of infidelity.

“J-Joker… you’re home.” Was all you could gasp out.

He looked the same albeit a bit fatigued. He was devoid of makeup, letting you see the pure exhaustion etched on his handsome features and the unmistakable hurt swirling in his vivid green eyes.

One look therein had you self aware. Of course Joker knew. Nothing got past him.

“Please, I-I-I can explain!! You were gone for months and I t-thought.. I thought you didn’t want me anymore. That you moved on! I was such an idiot! I.. Joker that date meant nothing no matter what your henchman told you–”

Joker said your name with such a dejected tone it made the hairs on the back of your neck bristle. “Y/n, shut. Up.”

Joker tossed his towel across the room and didn’t care that it barely landed on the leather couch before falling to the floor.

He’d worry about that later. His Light was on the verge of hysterics and he was not in the mood.

Joker walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. He sighed when you flinched from his touch but he cupped your brown face in his hands nonetheless.

“Y/n. Calm down and look at me.” You slowly opened your eyes to glance at J. He was patiently waiting, blinking owlishly at you with an unreadable look.

You couldn’t get a good read on Joker and that made you fear him more. Joker noticed and decided to go about this as plainly as possible to not scare you further. The last thing he wanted was you to fear him.

“I know about your… date. ‘M not mad at you doll, rather…. at myself for allowing it to happen. Ya see.. I never wanted to leave.” He sighed.

You blinked in confusion but let Joker continue.

“I didn’t abandon you Y/n. Never. I’ll never do that. I got caught up in a errr.. pickle.. that kept me from my Light. I stayed away to protect you.” Joker’s thumbs gently stroked your cheekbones as you looked at him in shock.

His rare genuine smile spoke volumes. “It was toooo risky to come back soooo I stayed away. I tried to message ya but it was sabotaged and…. The point is Y/n! It was not my in-tent-ions to leave you all alone. I will always come back to my Light. Believe that pretty girl.”

You felt like the biggest fool in all of Gotham. Joker was out risking his life to make it back to you and you gave up on him.

How was he not angry? It didn’t make any sense.

“You weren’t there. You were gone for months and I felt so alone. I was hurt and…” You tried not to get emotional but Joker’s gentle touch and the way he stared straight into your soul with those abnormal green eyes of his was getting to you.

Joker’s soothing touch had you breaking down in record time.

“I couldn’t help myself! T-Tristan didn’t mean anythi–”

In seconds Joker’s tender hold on you turned aggressive. His hands slid down to your throat and squeezed tight before you could finish your sentence. Your startled gasp rang out in the room.

“Don’t.. ever say another man’s name in front of me! I’ll kill him. I’ll do it. You. Are. Mine. You got that?” Joker waited until you croaked out a yes before loosening his grip. It was then you saw just how jealous Joker really was. His calm, cool, and collected attitude was all an act.

Underneath his exhaustion was the Jealous psychopath you knew and loved.

He sighed and let go to fuss over you. He smoothed your braids in place and nodded to himself when you were presentable and breathing properly. You were frozen in shock. He didn’t even hesitate hurting you.

Joker’s fluctuating mood was befitting his personality but it still made you wary. You eyed him sideways and Joker whined knowing you were thinking bad bad thoughts about him.

“M’sorry bunny I just… Argh! You just needed some attention, I. Get. It.. I’m not angry. I’m. Not. Hey.. ya wanna know a little secret?” You slowly nodded and Joker smiled wide before leaning in, almost as if he were to whisper in your ear.

“It was torture for me too. All those nights spent a-parT? Mmm I was thinkin’ about you.” His fingers played with yours resting in your lap.

“Really?” You asked.

Your mind quickly forgot about his random spurt of anger a moment prior, in favor of his suggestive tone at present. Joker was here and he was finally giving you attention. What more could you ask for?

He knew you loved his hands (and he knew you were touched-starved) and made sure to keep contact with you as he spoke.

“I missed my Princess and I knoooooow–” He yawned mid sentence, “..you missed me. C’mere, my Light. I wanna hold ya.”

You hid your smile witnessing Joker be so unguarded and so unlike himself. You could tell he didn’t sleep at all these past few months. Dark circles weighed down his gorgeous eyes and he literally made grabby hands at you. It was refreshing to know you weren’t the only one touch-starved here.

Joker was the world’s lightest sleeper. He could only sleep a full eight hours if he had his Bunny to cuddle up with. You had just woken up yourself but Joker needed his rest and he needed you.

You fell into his arms and he quickly maneuvered the both of you so he lied on the bed with you nestled on his side. You tossed your leg over Joker’s hips and he held it there, rubbing his hands along your plushy thighs.

His hands became restless and began re-tracing all of your curves, (as if he could ever forget them in such a short amount of time) and came to a stop at the crown of your head. He hummed contently and left a kiss in your hair.

“I’m sorry you felt alone, Bunny. The plan wasn’t supposed to take that long ‘n especially not months. I can’t promise I’ll be able to return quickly, but I will always come back to my Light. Just… just don’t give up on me, mkay?”

You nodded and glanced up at Joker. His eyes were closed, yet you knew his focus was solely on you. To prove your point, he opened his eyes and stared directly at you.

His emerald green eyes were drowsy but you could tell his words were sincere. His unique speech pattern was nonexistent the longer the conversation went. You had a raw and honest Joker lying beneath you.

So you decided to be honest in return.

“I promise, J. I won’t give up on you. I only want you.”

“Gooooood.” He closed his eyes again and repositioned his head better on the pillows. “Cuz no one touches what’s mine. Expect your uh.. punishment later.” He yawned.

“What?!!” You tried to get up but Joker’s arms tightened around you, keeping you lying atop of him. You wiggled in his grip and he growled in warning.

“J, I thought you said you weren’t mad at me!”

He didn’t see you pouting, however his hand still came down hard on your thigh. The sharp sting made you yelp in shock.

“I’m. Not. But ya still need to L-earn a lesson. My bunny can’t be sneakin’ off and.. playing with others while I’m away. Tsk. Tsk. I’ll uh f__k ya when I wake up. OH! You should rest too. Heh, you’ll need your energy.”

His warning hardly held any weight with the boyish grin plastered on his face. Without his clown makeup, Joker was a sight to behold.

You would prepare yourself for his tough love later. Right now you wanted to bask in Joker’s presence.

Three months was too long without him.

You snuggled up closer to your clown and began running your fingers through his hair. He loved when you did that. He was already snoring by the time you leaned up to kiss one of his scars.

“I’m just glad you're back.” You whispered. 

---

KARMA – Quinn Hughes x famous singer!reader

summary: where the captain of the canucks gets the entire team tickets to his famous singer!gf’s tour, only to find out that she’s in the mood to shake up some of her lyrics.

note: songs from both Sabrina Carpenter and Taylor Swift are referenced to have been written by reader! Both songs referenced are Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter and Karma by Taylor Swift (both of which have been plaguing my brain for the past two weeks!)

warnings: use of y/n, fem reader, simp Quinn, use of nicknames like baby and sweetheart, tooth-rotting morning fluff, I think that’s about it really.

word count: 2.4k+

(lyrics have been italicised and lyrics italicised in bold are the lyrics you change 🙏)

Golden light filtered into your apartment bedroom through a slight crack in your curtains. Your alarm had gone off twice in the last ten minutes, but all you could focus on was the man whose head was cradled on your chest and whose hair your fingers were mindlessly running through as he slept.

You had missed mornings like these. Mornings where the world seemed so small, where everything you needed was confined in this one apartment.

Mornings where the world was all just a little bit softer.

You'd been on tour for a month and a half prior to this moment, and tonight you were playing BC Place in your home city, which meant you had gotten to spend a few days and nights in the comfort of your own apartment and in the warmth of your boyfriend's arms.

Your third and final alarm for the morning chirped causing the man lying on your chest to groan, the sound vibrating down your spine as you moved to turn off the irritating noise, hoping to linger in the previous serenity. He shifted his position slightly, manoeuvring himself so that his face buried itself into your neck, leaving delicate kisses all the way up to your jaw.

"If you mark me up my makeup artist won't be happy with you," you forewarned as you hummed gently, your hand brushing a small strand of hair back from his face.

Quinn Hughes grumbled incoherently as he tightened his grip around you. You laughed at the groggy man's actions. It was seven o'clock in the morning, and usually, he was up and at it already, but he had a four-day period with no games, just training in the afternoon, which may or may not be the reason you had scheduled your shows and following rest period to fall on those days.

What could you say? You were greedy. You would give anything to have more time with your love.

"I have to go soon," You started, making no attempt to get up from the bed. Quinn's eyes blinked slowly as he adjusted to the morning light, his thumb tracing uneven circles on your hip. "I have rehearsals all day until later. Are you still planning on coming and bringing everyone?"

You had ensured that Quinn had a ticket to all of the shows you were going to be playing at BC Place (three in total, all of which had been sold out!). You'd also provided tickets to his teammates and their partners, wanting to see them all to catch up as well as reserving some for his parents, who’d be flying up to visit within the next day or two.

Quinn grunted as he pushed himself further up the bed so that he could be face-to-face with you. He placed another delicate kiss on your lips this time, despite your brewing complaints about morning breath.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he whispered softly, his nose nudging your own. The depth of his morning voice, paired with his gentleness made you melt into his touch, all your previous worries fading into the background. "Everyone is coming tonight...they haven't stopped talking about it."

Heat rose to your cheeks. Despite your extensive fame, you hadn't quite gotten used to the whole 'being famous' aspect. You could hardly believe so many people supported you and your music, it seemed so far away from you–so unreal.

"I'm excited," you smiled sheepishly, your eyes closing as Quinn pulled you closer to his warm body and held you firmly between his arms.

"Me too," He sighed with a sleepy grin of his own, "Can't wait to watch you on stage, waited long enough."

"I offered you tickets to the other ones but you had hockey," you whined with a yawn, your head nestling into his bare chest. "I think we should both just quit our jobs and buy a cottage out in the middle of nowhere."

Quinn hummed in amusement at your dramatics, his fingers traipsing up and down your spine. "Let's make it through today and reconsider," he suggested tiredly, "now five more minutes, please."

You didn't have to answer as you obliged his request and closed your eyes for another faithful five minutes.

—

"I...dah, dah, dah...I...duh, duh, duh."

Your halfhearted rehearsing of one of your songs backstage kept your mind occupied as your mic and earpiece were being attached to you. You could hear the buzzing of the crowd from outside, a small smile gracing your face to combat the nerves.

You'd been dressed and made up to perfection, not a single strand of hair out of place as people flitted around backstage preparing for you to take the stage. You shook out your limbs slightly, your jitteriness growing before you were scooped up from behind and carefully spun around. Your grin widened at the familiar grip around you as you let out a melodic laugh.

Once you were placed back on solid ground, you turned and hugged Quinn tightly, the comforting smell of his cologne soothing any remaining nerves lingering. He'd dressed up for the occasion, wearing a dress shirt and pants with his typical beanie covering his hair.

"How was practice?" You asked, your hands on his forearms as you scanned him for any signs of tiredness or bruises.

"Good, went well just as usual," he spoke soothingly. He knew you got nervous in the run-up to actually going on stage so he welcomed any distractions you threw his way. "Everyone's here by the way, and they were so excited when they saw their view for the show. They sent me back here with a million thanks."

You ducked your head as you smiled, "I can't wait until I can join you guys after the show," you remark, your hands fiddling with the buttons of his shirt cuffs.

"I know, but my girl has a job to do now," Quinn nodded his head behind you where your assistant had been trying to stall everyone attempting to sort you out for the show. "Go on out there and give it your all, baby,"

"I'll see you after?" You questioned as Quinn moved his hands to hold yours briefly.

"Oh, you're all mine after," he smirked and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away.

"Quinn!" You called after him which caused him to turn and face you, "Enjoy the show!"

"You know I will!”

—

Your show had started flawlessly from the moment you'd stepped out onto the stage. The crowd tonight was insane, all of them an array of colours and varying screams. You'd been beaming from the second you'd started performing, the type of smile that couldn't be faked which only seemed to widen whenever you caught a glimpse of Quinn and his teammates and friends in their box.

You were five songs into your set when your first scheme began to kick in. Your eyes had been drawn towards Quinn almost every few minutes, so it hadn't taken your fans long to realise exactly who was in that section. The majority of them pointing their phones towards the team to catch their various reactions.

"Vancouver!" You exclaimed gleefully into your microphone. "I want to hear all of you singing along…I want you to be the loudest crowd I've had yet!"

The opening beats of your next song flooded the stadium and a roar of excitement swept over the crowd. You let a mischievous grin creep onto your face as your plan set into action.

"Now, this song, I wrote on the balcony of a boy's apartment. It took me twenty minutes to write and two minutes to adore," you explained as the elongated intro played. "I found myself in love with someone, and all of a sudden, everything I felt was just...nonsense."

This song was one of your more ‘upfront' songs. You'd written after a date with Quinn one month into your relationship. You'd been sitting on his lap on the balcony of his apartment when inspiration had struck. You remembered his arms tightening around you as you scribbled the words on a crumpled napkin in front of you. It was honestly one of the more fun songs for you to perform, not only because of how entertaining the lyrics were but because you were able to make up a new outro with each city you'd been in and tonight was no different.

As you sang the song, your scheme rolled right into place, and your lips twitched up.

"I don't even know I'm talkin' nonsense, I'm talkin', I'm talkin', "I'm talkin' all around the clock." you swayed your hips as you moved towards the part of the stands where you knew Quinn and the Canucks were located.

“I'm talkin' you on the Canucks, I'm talkin' opposite of soft, I'm talkin' wild, wild thoughts," your cheeky grin spread across your face as you winked towards the man you loved. You danced the routine dance, giggling slightly as the change of words didn't go unnoticed by anybody which resulted in a series of high-pitched yelps and gasps. “You gotta keep up with me, I got some young energy, I caught the L-O-V-E, How do you do this to me?"

The energy maintained its high level as you made your way to centre stage, where you were the only one left by now. You held your mic towards the crowd for them to sing feeling yourself tear up slightly when they echoed clearly off of the stadium walls.

"This song catchier than chickenpox is, I bet your house is where my other sock is, Woke up this morning, thought I'd write a pop hit!"

"How quickly can you take your clothes off pop quiz?" You joined in before pausing slightly with a tilt of your head, a small hush of anticipation fell over the audience as they waited for your new outro.

"No, Mom, I swear this is not a phase," you grinned as you leaned towards the crowd, "I love hockey ‘specially when my man plays… but hush, you guys have my heart, BC Place.”

You let the cheers roll over you as you lowered your mic and feigned a curtsy, your lips drawing back into a smile as you waited for your next song to begin.

–

Ten songs later and the night was coming to a close. You knew you had two more nights in the city but a twinge ricocheted through your heart at the thought of having to leave again.

"Alright, BC Place, this is our last song for tonight!" You spoke with a smile as your words were instantly met with a chorus of booing. Sweat had gathered along your hairline, and your once meticulous look had now been somewhat displaced due to your dancing around, yet, you couldn't be happier. “I know, I know…”

You bit your lip as disgruntled and sorrowful yells of “more” and “no!” rang out all around.

"I just want to say that you guys have been incredible tonight, and there's no other place I'd rather be than here performing for you tonight. And so, for this final song, I want everyone up and dancing! I want you to scream the lyrics, cry the lyrics— honestly, as long as you guys are having fun, you don't even need to know the lyrics..." You continued brushing hair out of your face.

"I just want you to let loose as much as possible! So, my wonderful and beautiful audience, for the final time tonight, enjoy the song…this is Karma!”

The intro to your final song was met with a flurry of excitement, your fingers waggling as you waved to the crowd with a knowing smile.

"You're talking shit for the hell of it," You sang out the opening line, your eyes moving across the crowd as your dancers got into formation. "Addicted to betrayal, but you're relevant,"

As the song continued, you moved gracefully across the stage, trying to give as much attention to each side of the stadium as possible. Your heart was thudding so loud you swore you could hear it despite the volume of the room.

This was it. Your final scheme of the night.

"'Cause Karma is the thunder, rattling your ground, Karma's on your scent like a bounty hunter, Karma's gonna track you down," you moved closer to centre stage, your eyes focused ahead of you. "Step by step and town from town,"

"Sweet like justice, karma is a queen, Karma takes all my friends to the summit," your eyes glinted with mischief as you waltzed to the part of the stage closest to where Quinn was standing, managing to lock eyes with the man himself.

"Karma is the guy on that team," you smirked, curling your fingers in a come hither motion towards your boyfriend. You knew the camera broadcasting to the screens on either side of the stage briefly flitted toward Quinn and the Canucks before they refocused on you. "Coming straight home to me!"

Your words were met with a deafening thunder of screaming, as you giggled, winking up at the box where you swore you could see Quinn grinning, blushing under the stadium lights, his teammates nudging him with laughter. You waved towards them one last time before continuing your performance.

Once Karma’s last beat fell upon your ears, you found yourself so overwhelmed with love and joy. “Thank you, Vancouver, good night!” You cheered, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd before, you were ushered off the stage.

Your heart was racing as you exited backstage, the sound thrumming in your ears, fizzling along every nerve in your body. Your body was practically vibrating with adrenaline as people around you patted you in congratulations whilst someone began to take off your mic pack.

Your eyes jolted around the room and the chaos it inhabited. Your lip was between your teeth as the swell of adrenaline simmered out, your eyes continuing their search until they finally landed on the bright smile you yearned to see.

You quickly brushed off those around you as you half ran, half skipped towards Quinn, who caught you in his arms and allowed you to press your smiling lips to his.

“You were insane out there,” he beamed proudly, his arms around your waist as he pulled away from your kiss.

“You liked it?” You questioned softly, with your eyebrows drawn together with a nervous smile as your fingers traced his cheekbones.

“Of course I did,” Quinn teased, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple as the two of you began to move towards the dressing rooms. “but changing the lyrics? People will start to think you like me, sweetheart…”

You found yourself laughing, your head dropping as he tightened his arm around your waist.

“Why would they ever think that?!”

pls ignore how bad the nonsense outro is, it was one of five outros I tested and it was the one that worked the best 😭

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from here

svech and jack in the same picture😧🙏

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