you were carrying balloons into the main room, powder walking beside you, her hands were filled with cake boxes.

"you think we'll get in trouble for this?"

"doubt it," she replied, shaking her head. "dad and dad are out of town. no way they find out about this party."

you hummed in acknowledgement, setting the bag of balloons down on the coffee table and started blowing one up.

the sound of a car door shutting outside had you both glancing at each other. the party was still in its early preparation and guests weren't supposed to arrive until a few hours later.

powder raised an eyebrow. "who the hell could that be?"

you shrugged and stood up from the couch, heading over to the window to see what was going on.

it was a car you've never seen before. it was definitely an expensive one; black and shiny. the windows were tinted, so you couldn't even see the driver sitting inside, until you realized.

"no fuckin— powder," you called her, motioning for her to approach the window. "is that violet? why didn't you tell me she was coming to zaun?"

violet is five years older than you, after juvie she surprised everyone by getting a job at the enforcement department of piltover. oh, and she's engaged to piltover's counselor's daughter, caitlyn.

powder was at your side in a second, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look at the car parked on the driveway.

she shook her head.

"i didn't know," she replied in a hushed voice, sounding as surprised as you were. "but that's definitely her."

"damn..." you sighed when you saw the driver get down of the car. violet's got taste, caitlyn is too hot to be real.

you received a little slap on your arms. "stop it," she scolded, shooting you a disapproving look. "she's engaged, idiot."

"can't hurt to look."

powder rolled her eyes, but didn't get a chance to reply because the doorbell rang at that moment.

"i'll get it!" powder said before you could even offer, and darted into the hall.

you leaned against the window frame, arms crossed over your chest. you could see violet and caitlyn standing on the porch; caitlyn was holding a fancy gift box. powder greeting them enthusiastically, but your attention was mostly on caitlyn. she was definitely more beautiful in person, slim waist, curvy figure and long legs.

you let your eyes travel slowly from her long ponytail to her slim neck, all the way down to the sharp heels she was wearing.

you were practically checking her out... until you heard powder's unamused voice from the hall.

"stop drooling."

you quickly looked away from the window, just in time to see powder and the two women coming into the room. you pretended to be suddenly very interested in the balloons on the table, but you could feel powder side-eyeing you.

she was starting to pout, so you're quick to wrap your arms around her waist from the side.

"don't worry sugar, it's your window i'm crawling into every night." you said too sweetly.

she elbowed you gently, trying to hold back a smile. caitlyn and violet tried to hide their grins at the playful banter between you and powder, but it was obvious they were amused.

"anyways." powder cleared her throat, gently removing herself from your arms as if just remembering they had company. she approached caitlyn and violet with a smile. "it's so nice to see you guys. are you staying for the party tonight?"

"we wouldn't miss it for the world," violet replied, hugging powder tightly.

caitlyn smiled warmly. "we brought you a little something." she held the gift box, offering it to powder.

"oh, guys, you didn't have to." powder took the box carefully, her eyes lighting up at the golden bow wrapped around it.

"open it!" you urged, curious to see what they got.

powder laughed, shaking her head at your impatience. with nimble fingers, she pulled the ribbon and lifted the lid. you peered over her shoulder, and your eyebrows shot up when you saw the elegant golden watch sitting inside.

"oh my god. it's beautiful." powder breathed, gingerly lifting the watch to admire it.

caitlyn smiled proudly. "it's a limited edition, from one of piltover's best jewellers."

"and really expensive," you muttered under your breath. violet heard you anyway, shooting you a pointed look, you shrugged sheepishly.

much to your dismay, obnoxious steps were coming down the stairs in that moment. she probably heard guests and decided to make an entrance in hopes of getting a gift too. jinx had ignored you when you asked her to help earlier.

she waltzed into the room, a lazy hand running through her messy blue hair. "is the party starting already?" she drawled, eyeing caitlyn and violet with a smirk. her eyes darted down to the gift in powder's hands, and a flicker of envy passed across her face. "what's that?" she asked nonchalantly.

powder held up the watch for jinx to see, a proud smile on her face. "a present from cait and violet. isn't it pretty?" she gushed, ignoring jinx's sour expression.

"sure," jinx replied with a scoff, clearly unimpressed. "another gift from your favorite topside friends."

her tone was bitter, and it was no secret she didn't like caitlyn very much, she loves violet though, things just changed between them after she joined the police force.

powder's smile wavered slightly, and you could tell she was hurt by jinx's response.

violet, ever the peacekeeper, stepped forward and tried to diffuse the tension. "relax, jinx. there's enough gifts to go around."

jinx rolled her eyes, slouching against the wall. "yeah, right. it's not like i'm the last person anyone would think about when it comes to buying gifts." she mumbled sulkily.

"stop trying to make everyone pity you," you rolled your eyes, plopping down on the couch next to powder. "silco literally gave you a car and it's parked outside."

jinx crossed her arms defensively, her bottom lip jutting out in a childish pout.

"yeah, but it's not the same," she whined. "it's not like anyone actually cares enough to, i don't know, buy something special just for me."

"oh my god, spare us the martyr act, jinx." you said drily. "stop acting like you don't get showered with gifts on every occasion."

jinx bristled at the truth in your words, but before she could come up with a retort, powder intervened.

"guys, come on," she pleaded, clearly not amused by their bickering. "it's our birthday, remember? can we please just have one day where you two don't fight?"

you and jinx fell silent at powder's plea, both of you looking guilty for ruining the moment. the last thing you wanted was to distress her on her birthday.

you huffed quietly, nuzzling by her side in a silent apology, she patted your head affectionately.

caitlyn chose this moment to speak up, her melodic voice breaking the silence. "you know," she said lightly, glancing at jinx. "we actually did get something for you too."

jinx perked up at that, snapping her intense eyes away from you and powder as the sulky pout disappearing from her face instantly. she straightened up from her slouched position against the wall, her expression curious.

"you what?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. her eagerness was blatantly obvious.

caitlyn chuckled, clearly amused by jinx's sudden change of attitude. "here." she gestured for jinx to come forward, and jinx didn't need to be told twice. she practically sprinted over to where caitlyn was standing, eyes fixed on the gift she was holding.

she snatched the box from caitlyn's hand eagerly, her fingers working quickly to undo the wrapping paper, revealing a shiny new vape pen inside the box. her eyes widened in disbelief, and her usual tough demeanor faded away for a fleeting moment.

"no way," she breathed, carefully picking up the sleek device and turning it over in her hands.

"it's one of the new models," caitlyn supplied, a smug smile on her lips. "i know how much you love those things."

powder wasn't looking too happy, her usual cheerful expression replaced by a frown. she hated jinx's vaping habit, and it was clear she wasn't thrilled about caitlyn buying her a brand new device to feed her addiction.

but she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to cause another argument.

jinx was completely oblivious to powder's displeasure, too busy admiring her new acquisition. she was already puffing on the vape like a pro, exhaling clouds of smoke with a satisfied grin.

"this is the best gift ever," she declared, looking at caitlyn with uncharacteristic gratitude.

caitlyn nodded, clearly pleased with herself. even you had to admit, it was a good choice. "glad you like it," she said, a hint of satisfaction in her tone.

you sighed loudly, "well, pow-pow and i gotta keep setting up the house. little miss here invited almost everyone in town and then pretended to be sick," you glared at jinx.

she had the decency to look a little sheepish as she took another drag from her new vape. "i wasn't pretending," she protested, "i just... didn't feel that well."

powder scoffed, clearly not buying her excuse. "yeah, right, you just didn't want to do any work."

jinx stuck her tongue out at her twin, clearly unrepentant. "not my fault if i wanted to focus on being a party animal instead of playing party planner," she retorted.

"no worries," you feigned a friendly smile. "you're in charge of cleaning up the aftermath."

jinx groaned dramatically at your words, her expression one of sheer agony.

"ugh, please don't make me. that's gonna take forever!" she whined, her bottom lip jutting out in a dramatic pout.

"too bad, so sad," powder said mercilessly, stifling a laugh. "you should've thought about that before playing sick and bailing on your duties."

jinx sulked, her good mood completely ruined by the thought of having to clean up after her own party.

"you're all cruel to me," she muttered, slumping back against the wall. "i'm the birthday girl, you're supposed to pamper me."

"pow-pow here ain't complaining," you smirked, hugging your best friend once again—hardly ever keeping your hands to yourself—she leaned into your touch.

"that's because i prefer to be useful instead of lounging around like a spoiled brat all day," she teased, glancing at jinx pointedly.

jinx pretended to be offended, placing a hand over her chest dramatically. "hey, i'll have you know lounging around is a full-time job. not everyone can be as annoyingly productive as you."

you snorted, not even bothering to hide your amusement. "yes, you wish sitting on your ass and vaping all day was the epitome of productivity," you deadpanned.

jinx flipped you off, her expression a mix of annoyance and mock indignation. "don't act like you're any better," she retorted. "i've seen how many hours you spend glued to your phone, scrolling through cat videos."

"sue me!" you stuck out your tongue.

violet and caitlyn ended up helping out too, unlike jinx who pretended to hang up a banner as she watched the tv.

after another hour, you were finally free to get ready. both powder and jinx loved doing makeup, but you'd rather eat pineapple pizza than let her do your eyeshadow.

you were too content with pow-pow perched up on your lap, letting her do your face as she pleased. powder was a natural at it. her hands were gentle and steady as she applied various shades of eyeshadow to your eyelids, making your eyes pop. her tongue was stuck out in concentration, her brows deeply creased as she blended the colors together.

you sat patiently, doing your best to not squirm as she worked her magic. her closeness was both comforting and slightly distracting. your hands were resting on her legs—well, more like restless, as you played with the loose strands of her denim shorts.

powder tried to swat your hands away a few times, but it was pointless. your touch was light and playful, tracing the exposed skin of her thighs.

"you're distracting me," she chided, her cheeks tinting pink as she focused on your makeup.

you smiled innocently, feigning ignorance even though you both knew what you were doing.

"i'm just keeping my hands busy," you said, your fingers dancing along her soft skin. powder huffed, but she didn't push your hands away again.

"you're just being a pest," she muttered, her cheeks growing more flushed with every touch. she tried to focus on your makeup, but it was clear that your subtle advances were getting to her.

you could hear the party guests beginning to arrive, the distant voices and laughter growing louder by the minute. but your attention was solely on the girl perched in your lap.

"not my fault you're so soft," you hummed, squeezing lightly.

powder's breath hitched at the pressure, her body tensing momentarily before she relaxed again. she was trying to act unaffected, but you knew her too well.

"i'm going to mess up your makeup at this rate," she scolded, her voice slightly strained.

you chuckled, your grip on her thighs tightening just a fraction. you could feel the heat radiating off her skin, her body responding to your every touch.

"i don't care," you said huskily. "you can mess up my makeup all you want."

powder let out a shaky breath, her eyes darting away from your face. she was trying to keep her cool, but you could see the subtle signs of her growing desire. her lips parted slightly, her cheeks were blushing furiously, and her breathing was becoming more ragged.

but she remained composed, her hands continuing to work on your makeup despite her obvious distraction.

"there," powder said, finally setting her makeup brushes aside. "done." she slid off your lap, standing up and stepping back to admire her handiwork.

you let out an exhale, the absence of her warm weight on your thighs making you feel strangely hollow.

you got up as well, moving over to the full-length mirror on the wall to inspect your new look.

sure enough, powder had worked her magic once again. your eyes looked striking, framed by expertly blended shades of black and grey. she'd even managed to add a subtle glittery touch, making your eyes look wide and captivating.

"damn, pow-pow," you murmured, admiring your reflection. "you outdid yourself this time."

powder smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. she loved putting makeup on you, and she always got a kick out of your praise.

"thank you, babe." you gave her a loud smooch on the cheek.

powder's face softened at the familiar affectionate gesture, her cheeks tinted pink once again.

"of course," she replied affectionately, watching as you grabbed your clothes and headed towards the bathroom to get changed.

the sound of guests filing into the house echoed in the background, the party officially in full swing.

you put on the revealing dress you chose for the occasion, taking a deep breath and steadying yourself for the night ahead. you knew it'd be a chaotic evening, filled with drinking, dancing, and possibly some drama courtesy of jinx.

but for now, you took a moment to appreciate the quiet solitude of the bathroom and the way the dress made you feel: confident and sexy.

you felt a pang of excitement mixed with nervousness as you opened the bathroom door and stepped back out into powder's room, where she was trying to zip up her dress.

she was struggling with the zipper, her slender fingers unable to reach the top. "ugh, i can never get this stupid thing by myself," she muttered in frustration, her expression bordering on a pout.

you couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. despite her usually composed demeanor, powder could be ridiculously clumsy at times.

"here, let me help." you moved behind her, easily reaching the stubborn zipper and pulling it up effortlessly.

powder mumbled a muttered "thank you" as she smoothed down the fabric of the dress. it fit her perfectly, hugging her slight curves and highlighting her petite frame.

"i really need to invest in some dresses with easier zippers," she grumbled irritably.

"you look gorgeous," you purred, still standing behind her as you felt up her sides. "prettiest birthday girl ever."

powder chuckled at your words, her frustration melting away in an instant.

"you're biased," she retorted, glancing back at your reflection with a playful glint in her eyes.

"i'm just stating facts," you smirked, your hands roaming over her waist and hips.

you couldn't help it, the sight of her in that dress was intoxicating. her body, the way the fabric accentuated every curve and dip. she was irresistible.

"are you planning to get some tonight...?"

powder's cheeks tinted slightly at your suggestive tone, her eyes briefly meeting yours before darting away.

"maybe. depends on how the night goes," she replied coyly, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

your hands still lingered on her hips, the possessive side of you not wanting to let go. but you fought against the urge, knowing that powder was free to flirt and mingle with whoever she wanted.

"choose wisely," you suggested, leaning to gently brush your nose to the side of her neck. "not anyone is deserving of such delicious treat..."

powder shivered slightly at the feather-light touch of my nose against her skin, her breath hitching ever so slightly.

"don't worry," she replied, her voice soft. "i have high standards."

you hummed in response, your fingers tracing lazy circles on her hips. it was almost torturous, wanting her so badly and having to be hands-off.

"and what exactly are your standards?" you murmured against her neck, your lips ghosting just barely over her pulse point.

she turned her head to glance at you over her shoulder, the air felt more charged than ever. you thought this might be the moment everything changed, something you've been imagining since you were fourteen.

but no, because jinx then banged on the door claiming she can't be hostess on her own.

the sudden interruption completely shattered the intimate moment between you and powder. you groaned under your breath, irritation flaring up at the perfect timing jinx had to have.

powder sighed, stepping slightly away from you, "sounds like my services are needed out there," she said half jokingly.

you gritted your teeth, trying to tamper down your annoyance.

"yeah, better go see what the spoiled princess wants." you tried to make your tone playful, but annoyance still seethed underneath the surface.

powder rolled her eyes affectionately, "i promise i'll come find you later," she said sweetly, squeezing your hand briefly before slipping out of the room.

you stared after her, my heart still racing from the interrupted moment. damn jinx.

powder walks out of her room, passing by her sister. that's when you see her—skimpy mini skirt, leather, multiple belts hanging by her round hips, high boots over fishnet tights hugging her legs, all that matching the tight top that could pass as another belt. she looked hot, ridiculously hot.

you brush away your thoughts, walking up to her. "jinx, you didn't have to grab pieces of fabric from the trash can! i could've spared you a dress, y'know?"

jinx turned to look at you, that specific smirk she always has when bickering with you painted on her face.

"please, as if i'd ever wear the frilly, girly stuff you have in your closet," she scoffed, placing her hands on her hips and silently calling for your attention.

her outfit left very little to the imagination, her toned muscles clearly visible beneath the tight fabric. you had to quickly avert your eyes before you started staring like a creep.

"yeah yeah, and your style is so much better," you retorted sarcastically, gesturing to her outfit with a flick of your hand. "you look like you raided a punk rock thrift store and called it fashion."

"at least i have style," she shot back, her gaze raking up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle. "you just look like a walking advertisement for lulu lemon."

shit—you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling, too obvious. that had been annoyingly funny, and she noticed.

"oh, did i actually manage to make you laugh?" she teased, clearly enjoying your momentary slip-up.

you quickly recomposed myself, shaking your head in mock annoyance. "in your dreams," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest protectively.

jinx took a step closer, her eyes glinting mischievously. "awe, don't be like that," she cooned, her voice low and taunting. "admit it, you like the way i dolled up."

you bit the insides of your cheek, hating how her proximity was making your heart flutter ever so slightly.

"you're delusional," you muttered, "you're like a poor attempt of a junky groupie."

jinx feigned a mock gasp, clutching a hand dramatically to her chest.

"excuse you," she said, her tone full of fake outrage. "i'll have you know that this is the height of punk fashion."

"more like the height of desperate for attention."

"and yet you can't seem to take your eyes off me."

damn it, she had you there. you quickly averted your gaze, trying to ignore the heat that was creeping up your neck. "you must be drunk already," you muttered, making your way downstairs to the party.

jinx followed you, her footsteps surprisingly swift despite the tall boots. "nah, just high."

"what?" you frowned up at her, continuing to walk down the stairs. "you smoked without me?"

while powder was very much against drugs, you definitely didn't mind having a joint or two weekly. it was the only time you and jinx didn't bother with bickering.

"you sound jealous," she teased, walking next to you as you descended the stairs.

"I am." you retorted, unable to help yourself. the thought of jinx smoking without you actually kind of bothered you. "what do you mean i'm sober and you're high?"

jinx hummed, her steps confident and cocky., "not my fault you've been too busy to toke up with me lately," she replied, her tone somewhat playful.

you bit your lip, knowing she was right. you had been busy setting up the party. she could've called you, though...

"yeah, well... i've had other things on my mind."

jinx raised an eyebrow at that, her gaze shifting to you, "what's more important than getting high with me?"

"powder," you shrugged easily, too busy looking around the crowded room to notice the way jinx's expression faltered for a split second, a flicker of hurt flashing in her eyes.

she quickly masked it with her signature smirk, trying to brush it off. "right," she muttered, her voice almost too casual. "of course. perfect little pow-pow's top priority."

speaking of, you caught sight of her across the room, talking to a group of people and laughing. seeing her in that dress stirred another feeling, a mixture of admiration and something more complicated.

"don't have too much fun," you smiled to jinx, putting aside your differences for a moment as you smooched her cheek the same way you usually do to powder. "happy birthday." you softly said to her ear.

jinx was caught off guard by the sudden affection, her cheeks tinting slightly pink. her smirk faded, replaced by a subtle softening of her features.

"thanks.." she mumbled, a hint of genuine gratitude in her voice.

you lingered for a moment, your nose gently brushing against her skin. then you stepped away, heading towards powder before you could think too much about what you were doing.

powder saw you approaching and her face lit up in a bright smile, her attention shifting away from the group she was talking to.

"there you are," she said warmly, her eyes sparkling as they roamed over you.

you couldn't help but smile back, "here i am."

powder took a step closer, her gaze admiring your outfit. "you look amazing," she murmured, her eyes roving slowly down your figure.

you blushed slightly at the compliment, your heart skipping a beat. "you're biased." you teased, repeating what she'd said to you earlier.

powder laughed, shaking her head. "just stating facts," she retorted, her hand finding your hip and giving it a light squeeze.

you bit your lip, fighting the urge to shiver at the contact. "flattery will get you everywhere," you joked, attempting to feign nonchalance.

"oh yeah?" powder raised an eyebrow, her thumb gently rubbing circles over your dress. you could feel the air getting charged again, just like in her room before jinx interrupted you. "everywhere, huh?" she murmured, her eyes locked on yours.

you were about to respond, but before you could, there was a sudden loud crash from the other side of the room.

you both turned to see jinx standing in the middle of a broken table, a stupid smirk on her face and an empty bottle of liquor in her hand. powder sighed, her hand falling away from your hip.

"great," she muttered. "already drunk."

you bit back a sarcastic retort, your irritation from before rushing back. it almost felt like she did it on purpose.

"and a show-off," you added, watching jinx as she high-fived some guy nearby.

powder shook head, clearly exasperated. "always making a scene."

"i'll get the broken glass." you reassured her with a smile.

"you don't have to-"

"it's fine," you said, not letting her argue. "i'll clean this up. you go deal with jinx before she accidentally sets something on fire."

powder chuckled and rolled her eyes, knowing full well that jinx was capable of causing some kind of chaos when she was inebriated.

"thanks," she said, patting your shoulder before heading over to jinx to talk her down.

as you kneeled down to collect the broken glass, you tried to push aside your disappointment. this night was supposed to be about spending time with powder, not babysitting jinx.

you tried to focus on the task at hand, but your mind kept wandering back to how close you were to having powder all to yourself. it was infuriating, how jinx always managed to get in the way.

at least old sis' vi was there to help out. jinx does listen to her, and she calmed down by the time you were done cleaning up.

only then the party started for you, and you got to have a fun time with your friends. most importantly, with powder.

the night went on and you slowly started to forget about jinx's antics. you got to spend hours with powder, laughing, dancing, and chatting with others.

it was hard to keep your hands to yourself, but you managed. your eyes constantly flitted to her and you drank her in, admiring how stunning she looked in that dress, the way her face lights up when she laughs...

damn, you were really down bad for your best friend.

a friend came up with a polaroid camera, asking you to pose. powder grinned, immediately pulling you into position. she wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you close to her side. you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered, forcing a smile for the camera. powder's grip on you was possessive and it made something inside you feel warm and fuzzy.

your cheeks pressed together as you smiled, you felt so giddy. you barely got to see it before said friend asked for another one.

as if sharing the same braincell, you and powder faced each other and touched lips, lingering for the picture, only for the picture, of course.

you swallowed the lump in your throat as the picture developed, revealing the moment you'd just captured. it was almost too much, the way you were so close, your lips touching. all for the sake of a silly picture.

powder broke the moment by playfully nudging you with her hip.

"we look cute," she remarked, flashing a charming smile.

"as always," you retorted, trying to sound casual and unaffected.

though your voice was a little more breathy than you would've liked, betraying just how much those five seconds of contact had affected you.

you quickly tried to change the subject. "you having a good birthday so far?"

powder nodded, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

"yeah," she said, her voice low. "it's been a good night."

you nodded in agreement, your heart still racing from the way she was looking at you. even in the dim lighting, her eyes were as captivating as ever.

you opened your mouth to respond, but your friend interrupted, handing you the newly printed photo.

"here you go," she said, beaming brightly. "you guys look adorable."

you thanked her, looking down at the picture, your heart giving another little flutter as you saw how close you were. it was just an innocent picture, a silly snap of two best friends having fun.

but looking at the photo now, it felt almost intimate, like you'd shared a secret moment.

you glance at powder, finding her expression turning conflictive. before you could ask her what's wrong, she's pulled by other friends to join their conversation. you felt a pang of disappointment, your heart sinking a little as you watched powder get swept away.

you tried to push down your feelings of jealousy, telling yourself that you were being silly. powder had other friends, and it was her birthday. she couldn't just stick by your side all night.

a few moments later, you caught a glimpse of jinx stumbling to the backyard. you sighed and finished your drink, deciding to follow her before she got in trouble.

she was outside, leaning against the wall and nursing a bottle of liquor. when she saw you approaching, she rolled her eyes.

"great, here comes the fun police," she drawled sarcastically.

"i prefer 'responsible adult', thank you very much," i replied, coming to stand next to her.

jinx huffed, taking another sip of her drink. "how boring."

you nudged her with your shoulder, "are you having fun?"

"oh, loads," she retorted sarcastically, her expression turning bitter, "nothing like getting wasted and making a complete ass out of myself to ring in my birthday."

you rolled your eyes at her self-pitying, shaking your head in frustration. "you're so unnecessarily dramatic," you scolded. "you're not the only one who's drunk, but you're the only one acting like a fool."

jinx shot you a glare, her eyes gleaming defiantly. "oh, like you're the picture of perfection, you and powder are always so goddamn proper and perfect all the time. it's sickening."

you felt a pang of hurt at her words, it makes you realize you're not drunk enough yet, so you snatch the bottle from her hand and take a long sip. jinx watched you with a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"hey, that's my booze!" she protested, reaching to take it back.

you held it out of reach, taking another gulp. the alcohol burned your throat, but the heat spreading through your chest was welcome.

jinx gritted her teeth, a flash of irritation passing through her expression. "give it back," she commanded, her voice edged with annoyance. "that's the good stuff."

"nah," you replied bluntly and smirked, relishing in her frustration. "you've had enough."

"you're not my mom," she whined, her words slurring slightly.

"no, but i'm the only one with enough common sense right now," you shot back, taking another swig from the bottle.

jinx grumbled under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she watched you chugging back the alcohol.

"you're such a buzz kill..." she muttered, her tone sour.

you couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy for her. this isn't how she usually is at parties, and it didn't feel right to see her sulk in her own birthday.

against your better judgment, you place a hand on her forearm, squeezing softly.

she flinched slightly, her eyes darting to your hand on her skin. her expression softened a bit, the anger and irritation fading from her face as she met your gaze.

"what?" she grumbled, her voice lacking its usual bite.

"you can't act like a spoiled brat for your entire birthday," you chided, your tone surprisingly tender. "what's the matter, jinx?"

jinx's bravado crumbled, her expression shifting from sulky to vulnerable in the span of a moment.

"nothing," she muttered, her gaze dropping to the ground.

you sighed, sensing that something was truly bothering her. "try again," you prompted gently. "something's clearly got you all twisted up, and i know it's not just the alcohol."

jinx's jaw clenched, her expression tightening as if she was warring with herself on whether to talk or keep quiet.

finally, she let out a frustrated huff, her words coming out a bit slurred.

"it's stupid," she muttered pitifully.

"tell me," you urged softly, your fingers gently stroking her arm in an attempt to soothe. "i won't think it's stupid."

jinx finally relented under your gentle coaxing, her shoulders sagging. "it's just..." she began, her voice cracking slightly, "everyone's having fun but me."

you could hear the childish petulance in her voice, but there was an underlying vulnerability that tugged at your heart.

"why's that?" you asked in hopes that she'd open up. everyone deserved to have a nice birthday, even the most obnoxious girl you know.

"because everyone's only focusing on powder," she whined, the jealousy in her voice clear. "it's like i don't even exist."

you bit back another scoff, resisting the urge to tell her to stop acting like a spoiled child.

but yeah, most people preferred spending time with powder rather than jinx. but it's because she pushes people away, purposefully making them upset or uncomfortable.

you hummed sympathetically, knowing there was some truth in her words. but you couldn't help but think she'd dug her own grave with her behaviour.

"i mean, you kind of bring it on yourself," you pointed out bluntly. "you're not exactly a joy to be around when you're behaving like a brat."

jinx gave you a sullen look, clearly not pleased with your honesty. "i can't help it," she muttered, her voice sulky. "i'm not a people pleaser like you and pow-pow."

you rolled your eyes, unable to deny the truth in her words. powder was naturally kind and sociable, while you were more reserved and observant around people.

and jinx was anything but polite and patient.

"you can at least try to be nicer, you know."

jinx scoffed, her lips turning into a scowl. "spare me the lecture," she muttered irritably. "i'm not changing who i am just to make people like me."

"then don't let it get to you," you shrugged, finding it easy to wrap your arm around her shoulder to pull her closer. "it's your birthday. you don't sit alone in the backyard with a beer and a cig."

jinx huffed, her sulky expression crumbling slightly as you pulled her closer. her resistance faded away, her body pressed against yours.

"i just... i want people to pay attention to me for once," she muttered sullenly, her eyes downcast. "it's my birthday, dammit."

your heart ached at the vulnerability in her voice. as annoying as jinx could be, you didn't like seeing her like this.

you pulled her even closer, your hand moving up to thread through her hair gently, careful to not mess up her braids. she leaned into your touch, her head tilting against your shoulder.

"they are paying attention to you," you replied, your tone softer. "everyone's here for you. they're just not as... demanding as you are."

"whatever," she muttered, her expression still sulky. "they're having fun without me. i feel like an afterthought."

"that's because you've been out here pouting instead of joining in," you pointed out, your fingers now massaging the nape of her neck. "you're making yourself a wallflower, you idiot."

"shut up," she muttered, her voice a petulant whine. "i'm not pouting..."

you kept your opinion to yourself this time, your fingers continuing to gently soothe her tense muscles.

there's a wave of silence, the music and chatting muffled from your spot. it was quite nice, jinx's natural body heat keeping you warm while you comforted her. who would've thought?

jinx's breathing slowed, her earlier sulkiness diminishing slightly as you continued to rub her neck. her body relaxed against yours, a quiet sigh escaping her lips.

you felt a pang of affection as she nuzzled her head even more into you, the tough exterior she usually wore crumbling before you. it wasn't unpleasant. in fact, you found yourself enjoying it more than you probably should.

jinx broke the silence, her voice a bit groggy.

"you're way too good at that," she mumbled, her cheek pressed against your shoulder. you smirked in amusement at her comment, your fingers continuing to massage the nape of her neck.

"you're just way too tense all the time," you replied, your tone playful.

"that's because i'm constantly surrounded by idiots," she muttered, her usual snarkiness missing.

"and you're the queen of idiots, right?"

"shut up."

you giggled quietly before kissing her forehead. jinx's eyes snapped open, her expression momentarily shocked. but her surprise quickly faded, replaced by a hint of... something else.

you were taken aback by your own actions, realizing that you'd mindlessly kissed her just like you'd do to powder. it felt natural, like second nature.

a moment of awkward silence passed as you both seemed to process what just happened. you felt your cheeks heating up, realizing that you'd overstepped. this was jinx you were dealing with, the last person you should be getting comfortable with.

however, jinx didn't protest. she didn't pull away. in fact, her gaze flickered up to meet your eyes, her expression strangely thoughtful. you held her gaze, trying to decipher what was going on in her head. her eyes darted down to your lips for a second, her own parted slightly.

it stirred something within you. you could feel the air shift, tension crackling. it felt like one of you was about to say something, but you both remained uncharacteristically quiet.

you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as both of you unconsciously inched closer, her breath warm against your lips. your mind was a mess of contradictions—telling you to pull away, but also pushing you to do the exact opposite.

the same conflict mirrored in jinx's eyes, her gaze both uncertain yet fixated on your lips, the way her breath hitched ever so softly you almost missed it.

your resolve was crumbling with every passing moment, the intensity of the situation becoming almost overwhelming. your gaze flicked from her blue eyes to her lips, landing on them for a second too long. god damnit, why did she have to look so captivating up close? her tongue darted out briefly to wet her lips, the action sending a jolt of desire right through you, your noses already brushing together.

this is wrong, a voice in the back of your mind chanted. she's obnoxious, rude, and downright insufferable most of the time. this is jinx, your best friend's annoying sister who's the opposite of you in every possible way.

but the voice was growing fainter and fainter, being silenced by the louder inner voice that was screaming to just take the jump, to give in to desire.

just one... a small, hesitant little peck to satisfy your curiosity.

the touch of her lips against yours sent electric sparks through your body. it was just a quick brush of lips, barely even a kiss. but it was enough to set your body on fire, leaving you craving more. you saw the same look of confusion mirrored in her eyes, her breath coming out slightly heavier.

"that was- that was the alcohol," you excused poorly.

"yeah, definitely the alcohol," jinx agreed quickly, her cheeks slightly flushed. "i can't believe i just... i mean, why would i-"

she trailed off, shaking her head as if to snap out of it. your eyes met again, both of you silently agreeing to brush it under the rug with the easy explanation—it was just the alcohol.

you both stood there awkwardly, the tension still thick.

jinx cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding eye contact. she suddenly seemed very interested in examining a random spot on the ground.

the kiss had happened so fast that it was almost like it didn't even happen. except for how your lips still tingled from where they'd touched hers. unconsciously, you brought up your hand, tracing them faintly as if they hold a memory you didn't want to forget.

jinx noticed, her own eyes flickering down to your lips again for a split second.

she quickly looked away, neither knew what to say or do next. it wasn't like you could just pretend that tiny kiss didn't happen when both your faces were burning with embarrassment and... yearning for more. the silence stretched out, painfully awkward.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, jinx leaned in again.

your body moved before your brain could even process it. you responded instinctively, closing the distance and meeting her halfway. this time though, there was no hesitation, your lips pressed together properly this time, a real kiss forming instead of just an accidental brush like before.

jinx's lips were surprisingly soft against yours, and she kissed with a quiet urgency that made your stomach flip.

your hand instinctively moved to her face as you deepened the kiss slightly, the earlier awkwardness melting away into something far more intimate and heated. the world seemed to fade away, the muffled music and laughter from inside becoming nothing but background noise.

jinx kissed you with a passion you didn't know she had, her lips were warm and insistent, her hands gripping your waist lightly as if afraid you'd pull away again. you kissed back just as eagerly, pressing yourself against her until her back hit the wall.

it felt way too good, while it lasted.

why did you think you could get away from your best friend for so long? did you even think, at all?

the sound of powder's voice hit you like a bucket of ice water, making you both freeze mid-kiss. jinx pulled away immediately, from your hand the beer bottle you forgot you had slid off to the floor as you turned, mortified.

there stood powder, completely still, her face an unreadable mask. but you could see the exact moment realization dawned on her features... and it wasn't nice.

The rain was coming down in droves, heavy drops that pelted against the glass of the windshield, thunder cracking loudly overhead and the sky only seemed to be getting darker and darker. You looked over at Abby, her hands white-knuckled gripping the steering wheel, leaning forward as she concentrated on the terrain. You weren’t sure how she was seeing anything at all to keep driving, but you’d long since learned not to question her capabilities. You were headed out to relieve the current team posted at the TV station and running late because of the storm. It hadn’t been expected at all, rain was common of course, but a storm this intense wasn’t. 

You looked out over the landscape, trying to focus your eyes on anything around you that might give you an idea of how far out you were from the station. Using your sleeve, you brushed the condensation from the window in front of you. It didn’t do much to help, so you turned again to look at Abby instead, her features pulled tight and her brow furrowed. You knew distinctly her frustrated appearance shouldn’t have sparked the fluttering of butterflies in your chest the way that it did, but there was something devastatingly attractive about the way she wore all of her emotions so plainly on her face. 

You had been friends for years, often paired together on postings. You had a patient steadiness that grounded her restless energy, and she was always quick to react where you hesitated. Where she was ruthlessness you were mercy; when she drifted, you brought her back. It hadn’t always been an easy pairing, you both struggled at first to understand the other. It took time to learn how to give each other the space to do what you needed to. Honestly, at first you’d distinctly disliked Abby, her viciousness intimidated you. You hadn’t had an easy path to finding the wolves, no one had, and through it all you had grasped onto your kindness, your compassion. Seeing someone so freely embrace their rage, their pain, you resented it. Over time, though things started to fall into place, Abby gave you an outlet for the ugly emotions you desperately tried to hide away, you gave her a place to let her armor down. You developed a balance, and after all this time Abby had started to refer to you as her humanity. You’d long accepted that this was the only way she’d ever refer to you as hers. 

You couldn’t place exactly when you had first started developing feelings for Abby, days often passing in hues and noise, but you knew you felt it in quiet moments. When your fingers brushed together at meals, the annotations she leaves you in all the books you loan her, her arm around your shoulder on the rare occasions your friends all got a quiet moment to sit and share a drink or two. Her presence was always simply there, the intensity she brought to all things had become soothing to you. Even now, sitting in the truck together listening to the sound of the rain pelting the roof, the silence stretched between you as she focused, you felt wholly calm. 

At least until the car came to a screeching, violent stop. You surged forward, bracing yourself in the milliseconds you had before your head hit the dash, only to instead collide with her substantial forearm as it shot out in front of you, catching you just before you hit it and forcing your body backwards once again into your seat. 

For a moment, everything seemed to be frozen in place, the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your chest outpacing the rain outside. As quickly as she’d put her arm out, she pulled it back, gripping the wheel again as she threw the truck into reverse, pulling back a safe distance before stopping again. Looking ahead you realized the issue. While your eyes were on her, you’d entirely missed the road rapidly flooding ahead of you, had Abby stopped a moment later it would’ve washed you guys out. 

“Are you alright?” Abby asked, turning to look at you, concern-ridden across her face.

“Yeah, I’m alright, I should’ve been paying attention, I'm sorry. Thank you for catching me” you answer, voice small and a bit breathless. 

“It’s not your fault; the flood came out of nowhere. I’m just glad we stopped in time. I guess we’re not making it to the station anytime soon; should we head back?” 

You consider for a moment, looking at the road ahead and the rain still pouring down. You hadn’t thought it was safe to drive in the first place, and after the scare you both had, the thought of continuing to drive in the storm filled you with anxiety. 

“Maybe we could wait it out here for a bit? It can’t go on forever,” you suggest.

A small smile pulls at the corner of Abby’s lip, something you might consider to be affectionate if you didn’t know any better, but more than that, something mischievous. 

“What’re we gonna do while we wait?” She muses.

“What if we played a game?” She looks at you for a moment, seemingly thinking over your offer. 

“What kind of a game?” She finally asks.

“A question game?” 

“Okay, but let’s sit in the back, it’ll be more comfortable”

You agree without hesitation, and she gestures for you to go first. You slip over the dashboard and into the backseat, settling in with your legs crossed. Abby follows shortly behind. Settling into the space beside you, she spreads out, getting comfortable, gripping her shoulders as she stretches. You watch her, eyes lingering across the flex of her biceps before she releases and leans back. You avert your eyes quickly, focusing them on your hands in your lap. You can feel the pink in your cheeks and hope desperately it’s too dim in the truck for her to notice. 

“Alright, you first” She prods, initiating you to begin the game. 

You take a moment to think; despite having presented the idea, you hadn’t actually considered the effort of having to think up a question, and also hadn’t expected her to agree to play in the first place. Games like this were typically reserved for drinking with friends, not stranded in a storm in the backseat of a truck. You eventually formulate a simple question about the most recent novel you’d shared with her, and she questions you about your experiences before the WLF. You two go back and forth like this for a while, light-hearted questions to fill the time while you wait for the road to clear. 

“Okay, here’s one, does Manny actually hook-up with as many girls as he brags about, or is he all talk?” You ask. 

Abby laughs at the inquiry, the sound reigniting the thundering in your chest. 

“Unfortunately it’s true, those poor girls get mediocre dick, and I’m the one having to fuck off to elsewhere cause he keeps turning our room into a sex club,” She answers, a teasing tone of annoyance taking over. 

“I can’t believe those poor girls keep falling for his awful pick-up lines. You know he tried hitting on me before we became friends,” You tell her, but to your surprise, she didn’t look shocked at all. 

“Oh, I know, I used to have to put up with him going on and on about you, the one girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day” 

“Seriously? I didn’t know he was into me like that, he isn’t uh, exactly my type”  You say, voice trailing off a little bit. 

“Alright, then who is your type?” She asks, and once again you can feel the familiar flush in your cheeks. You look back at your hands again, shrugging your shoulders a bit. You hadn’t thought about how perfectly you had set her up with the question and, now that it was asked, you didn’t know how to answer it. 

“Is that your question for the game? I mean, you could ask anything.” You point out, hoping she’ll take the opportunity for a topic change. 

“It’s my question. I mean, for as long as we’ve known each other, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so much as flirt with a guy. I’m curious,” she says. 

Your heart pounds; of course she hasn’t. The only person you’ve been interested in flirting with is sitting across from you, absolutely clueless. A pit in your stomach begins to form, tangled and frantic, a response to how unsure you feel about what to say. You know you could lie to her, but so much of your friendship had been built on trust that even a white lie felt heavy like it carried repercussions you couldn’t fathom. 

“I guess I'm not really into guys,” you admit, refusing to meet her stare. The idea of finding rejection anywhere in her blue eyes fills you with a kind of anxious nausea so bad you can’t stand it. 

It’s silent at first, the kind of silence that stretches on long enough that it gives space for your anxious thoughts to grab hold of your mind, voices louder and louder inside of your head until your chest starts to ache and you feel like you can’t get enough air into your lungs to breathe. Your internal whirlwind makes the storm outside seem like a light drizzle in comparison. You can’t bring yourself to look at her, only imagining the disgust she must be displaying, wondering if she’s putting things together. 

“Are there any girls you’re into?” She asks finally, her soft voice breaking through the violent tidal wave of thoughts pounding in your mind. You don’t respond right away, not until you feel her rough fingers nudge under your chin softly, tilting your head to finally look at her.

You’d expected to find disgust there, rejection painfully obvious across her face just like every other emotion she has. Except it’s not there at all; instead you find something much more delicate. Abby’s eyes are soft, full of something fond and kind. Her brows are still slightly pinched but not in frustration, in concern and hesitation. The look is overwhelming, a response that in every way you had imagined this scenario going, you hadn’t anticipated. Not rejection at all but rather an expression of gentleness, of wanting. It was one you’d seen before, in all the little moments you could feel yourself falling more and more for her, all the times you told yourself you were imagining things. 

“Maybe” You answer finally, barely above a whisper. 

The corners of her lips curl up slightly, her thumb gently brushing across your bottom lip, her eyes glancing down to take in the sight for a moment before she looks back up to meet your eyes again. In the dim light, you can see a flush in her cheeks, and you realize that must mean she can see yours. 

“I think I know who it is,” She says back, leaning in towards you, so close you could nearly touch her, so close the electricity between you is palpable. 

“Do you know why we always get paired together?” She asks, and you can feel her breathing mingles with yours. 

“Cause we make a good team?” You offer, wondering where she’s going with it. Her smile grows then, like your answer was something funny, and she shakes her head softly. 

“We do make a great team,” she emphasizes, “but it’s because when I first saw you, I knew I had to get to know you. So I requested to get paired with you, teach you how things go, and then I did get to know you, and you were…” Her voice trails off, like she’s not sure if she should continue. 

“Tell me, please” You ask, trying and failing to disguise the desperation in your voice. 

“Infuriating, you challenged me in ways no one else had before. It used to drive me crazy, but the more time I spent with you, the more I realized how much I needed it. You remind me that there’s kindness in this world, there are things worth protecting, and things worth caring about. You reminded me of my humanity when I thought I had lost it. I kept asking to be put with you, because I couldn’t fight off how much I needed to be around you, and I think you feel the same way. Do you feel the same way?” 

Your gaze is wide at her confession, like a deer caught in the headlights, you can hardly process what she’s saying but for the first time that day your pounding heart isn’t from fear. 

You nod. 

Before you have time to think about it, Abby is closing the gap between you, her lips crashing into yours. The kiss is desperate and needy. You kiss back with the same fervor, your hands finding their way around her neck as you pull her further into you. Her calloused fingers brush your waist, nudging your shirt up and settling on the softness of your skin, digging in just a bit. When you finally separate your both breathing heavily, lips swollen and pink, and she rests her forehead against yours for a moment before the affectionate smile once again crosses her expression. 

“Do you know how many times I've pictured this moment?” You ask, breathlessly.

“Is that your question for the game?” She teases, and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at her. 

“No,” you answer back. She raises a brow at you.  “Then what’s your question?”  “Kiss me again?” 

She doesn’t hesitate, leaning back in again, while the sound of the rain outside slowly turns softer, sunlight beginning to peek through the darkness. 

Ellie had an oral final exam tomorrow that she had not studied nearly enough for and she desperately needed to.

Well, her plan had not accounted for you opening the door looking like that.

She'd known you were going and she'd known you'd be dressed up all nice like you always did. Nevertheless, Ellie was not prepared to see how beautiful you actually looked.

The summer had spent weeks trying to wring every ounce of comfort out of everyone, especially you, but somehow, you'd come out looking like you'd finally made peace with it.

You were wearing a little white dress she'd never seen before. The fabric clung gently to your chest and waist, framing the little heart necklace you always wore, before loosening into a short skirt that danced with the wind around your thighs with every step.

At least, Ellie had managed not to jump you and kiss you breathless as soon as you opened the door and gave a big and bright smile in her direction. She was actually quite proud of herself for that. It had taken her an unbelievable amount of self control.

She'd grabbed the notebook off the table while your mom moved around the living room frantically. The whole place was full of noise that your house always had, a thing Ellie had noticed the very first time she came over and hadn't been able to stop noticing ever since.

Just a home that was always busy and alive, like the walls themselves had absorbed years of family dinners and loud conversations. Always busy, always alive.

Her apartment was really quiet in comparison.

Anyway. She had the notes, so she should have left.

Instead, she'd followed you back to the front door and ended up standing in the doorway while you stood just inside.

You looked so unfairly pretty this close.

You'd actually tied your hair up in a ponytail, as the March heat finally won the argument you'd been having with it all summer long.

Ellie had only seen you wear it like this a handful of times since you'd met. Usually you insisted on wearing it down, no matter how much you complained about the weather. Every single time Ellie asked if you weren't roasting alive, you'd shrug and mumble something about not liking how you looked with it tied back.

Ellie had never really understood that. Standing in your doorway now... well, she understood it even less. Clearly, your insecurities had very little to do with reality.

Two little butterfly clips held back the shorter strands that your ponytail couldn't quite catch. They were tiny and gold colored, and they suited you so perfectly that Ellie found herself smiling as she noticed them.

They were... very you. Very cute.

The evening wind moved between you, cool on the skin yet warm in the air, carrying the smell of someone grilling something from somewhere down the street. Even if it kept trying to separate the two of you, lifting the hem of your dress and tugging at Ellie's shirt, neither of you gave it much help.

"Okay," she said, and her voice had changed without her meaning to. Just a little low and softer, and she watched your expression shift in response. "I'll see you—"

Before she could finish, you stepped forward and closed the small distance between you.

Just like that, Ellie's entire plan for the evening dissolved completely.

She kissed you back just as softly.

The folder slipped off her hands—it hit the doorstep with a thud that none of you registered—and her hands found the side of your face, and then she wasn't going anywhere at all.

Your lips were soft and tasted a little sweet, and she heard herself exhale slowly against your mouth.

It was supposed to be a quick thing. A goodbye kiss. Except, your lips tasted sweet. Soft and a little sticky and actually, really sweet…. She liked that. She liked that a lot.

Ellie started to pull back just enough to register the unexpected sweetness lingering now on her lips.

You mistook it for the end of the kiss.

The second you began to lean away, Ellie's hand tightened gently around your cheek, her thumb brushing your skin as she guided you right back to her.

"Ellie…,” you said against her mouth, but it was not quite a complaint.

"You taste really nice," she said. A completely honest observation, and not at all an excuse to lean in again for another taste.

You were fully smiling now, delighted, leaning into her a little. "...Thanks?"

"Like, seriously." She kissed the corner of your mouth again, lingering just a second longer before pulling back. Ellie smacked her lips thoughtfully. "Did you eat something?"

You blinked. "What?"

"Another cinnamon roll?" she guessed, narrowing her eyes at you. "I know you get them for free but like… your teeth are gonna rot."

"I don't eat that many cinnamon rolls."

Ellie just looked at you.

It wasn't exactly a wild accusation to make. You did eat an alarming amount of these weekly. It came with the job, she supposed. Without missing a day, you came home with pastries with microscopic imperfections your boss refused to sell. Cinnamon rolls were your weakness, but there were also cupcakes, slices of cake, whatever new cake recipe your boss wanted everyone to try… Technically, you probably weren't supposed to bring home that much, but your manager seemed to like you far too much to care. Which admittedly benefited Ellie almost as much as it benefited you.

Ellie, who'd never really been much of a dessert person past childhood, had somehow become one by association. Dating—well. Spending time with you had quietly reshaped some of Ellie's habits, and one of them was her reluctance to eat sweet things.

Before you, she'd never gone out of her way to buy pastries. After you, she'd grown used to finding boxes on her kitchen counter, always filled with something sweet inside. Most of the time she'd grumble that you were going to rot both your teeth and hers but she had yet to refuse a single bite.

Honestly, the amount of sugar you consumed probably explained why children liked you so much.

She'd seen it first hand a few months ago, back when you'd been doing your first teaching placements. Your parents had wanted to pick you up after your first afternoon there, but neither of them had been able to make it.

It still got dark pretty early during that time of year, and the school they'd assigned you to was far enough from home that walking hadn't really been an option. Ellie knew you well enough by then to know you'd sooner wait for the bus for an hour than pay for an Uber, so she had offered to go pick you up before you could even start to reassure them it was okay.

The image of you waiting at the bus stop alone when the sun wasn't there anymore left her with a tight knot in her gut. Besides, you would probably need lots of help carrying all your stuff.

Ellie still remembered waiting outside the gates as the gloomy spring afternoon faded into evening. She'd expected to see you exhausted after a long day. Instead, she watched you come out with the brightest smile she'd ever seen on your face, clutching a folder full of drawings.

Since that day, Ellie wasn't entirely convinced you weren't secretly a princess.

"...Okay, maybe I do. But I didn't today.”

Still unconvinced even now and with a small frown on her brows, she kissed you again anyway, just to check. "Okay. What is it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Ellie said, with complete seriousness, already leaning in to kiss you again.

“Caramel kiss.”

Figures. Even your lip balm had a sweet related name. Ellie would have laughed, if it wasn't for the confusion growing within her. Was that… a lip balm? Or... one of the two million shiny glosses in different shades you owned?

Probably. It was probably that, she was sure. Whatever it was, she'd have to remember it now. “Uh. That's a dumb name.”

“Ooh, you love it.”

“I mean, yeah.”

You smiled so brightly at that admission that Ellie forgot, for a second, that she'd been trying to leave.

You were still standing so close that Ellie could feel your breath against her face. Her hand remained cupping your cheek, her thumb absentmindedly brushing back and forth across your cheekbone while she watched you.

Ellie wasn't entirely sure when she'd started doing this, but lately she'd found herself staring at you far too much, and every time she looked, she found something new to notice.

Familiarity had done exactly what she'd expected. Everything should have become ordinary by now. But she was Ellie, so it never did. Spending so much time by your side had not dulled your edges; if anything, it only kept revealing details she'd somehow missed before.

No time to linger today, though. She really needed to leave. Like, right now.

Without thinking, Ellie leaned in again. The tip of your nose brushed hers at first, just barely. The touch was featherlight but enough to make you exhale softly against her mouth.

As you sighed against her lips she tilted her head, and then the tip of her nose was tracing the curve of your cheek. Ellie lingered there for just a heartbeat, breathing you in. You didn't move away. If anything, you leaned in just a fraction, close enough that your breaths had begun to fall into the same rhythm.

Ellie felt it immediately where the tip of her nose met your pillowy cheek.

Your cheek was warm. More than warm, actually.

Oh.

Were you… flustered?

She smiled before she could stop herself.

You. Flustered.

That wasn't something she'd seen much of, and was fairly sure that didn't happen very often. You weren't really prone to embarrassment — unless Ellie was the cause, apparently.

You moved through the world with a kind of ease that she'd never quite had herself. You flirted shamelessly, teased her relentlessly, and most days she was the one left flustered.

But sometimes, like right now, the roles reversed. Feeling that warmth bloom in your cheeks, Ellie couldn't help but grin. It felt strangely unfair that you still had the ability to surprise her.

Her lips brushed yours, and your mouths hovered only a breath apart. “Are you really embarrassed right now?”

“I'm no—”

“NO KISSING INSIDE THE HOUSE!”

Ellie's whole body jolted.

From somewhere deep inside the house, God only knew where, your dad's voice echoed through the hallway. The man seemed to possess some kind of sixth sense for knowing whenever Ellie was within kissing distance of you.

How he did it, she'd never figured out, and she'd stopped trying.

You pulled back so fast you nearly headbutted her. "We're literally in the doorway," you called back.

"THE DOORWAY IS STILL THE HOUSE!"

You rolled your eyes with a dramatic sigh before looking back at Ellie. "See what I have to deal with?"

Ellie couldn't really argue with him. Honestly, fair enough. If she ever had a daughter, she probably wouldn't be exactly thrilled to walk into someone making out with her in the doorway, either.

The thought lasted just a few seconds before you were giving her another quick peck. She put up absolutely no resistance because, despite understanding your dad's point completely, she also happened to be hopelessly in love with his daughter.

"...Dude," Ellie mumbled against your lips, trying—and failing—not to smile. "You're going to get me in trouble," she said.

No move to step back, though. None at all.

“Don't mind him. Worse things have been done in this house.”

Ellie felt her cheeks go bright red immediately, as flashbacks of whatever you two had been doing in your room just last night hit her. Truth be told, once the initial horniness settled, regret had arrived to take its place. Ellie had felt extremely embarrassed about the whole thing — for no particular reason, really. You were an adult, she was an adult, and you'd both been really careful not to be too loud about it.

Still, it flustered her slightly. Doing it in your house while your mom and dad were there just felt wrong to her, even though you clearly didn't share that concern with her, not even a little.

You were still standing there, half inside the house and half hidden by the doorframe, smiling at her like nothing had happened.

Behind you, the house was cool and dim, the fan humming faintly somewhere down the hallway. A gentle drift of cool air brushed Ellie's face, while behind her the last warmth of the afternoon sun settled against her nape.

It was either that, or the embarrassment creeping up her neck. Hard to tell.

Ellie cleared her throat, suddenly finding the cracked paint on your doorframe unbelievably interesting.

It didn't help, because her eyes wandered back to you almost immediately. Her gaze drifted from your face down to your shoulder.

With your hair up and the thin straps of your dress, they were almost bare, and the afternoon sun caught the tiny flecks of gold from whatever glittery lotion you'd put on, making them sparkle as you moved.

Before she even realized what she was doing, her fingers were brushing against the left strap, lightly tracing it from where it sat on your shoulder downward, following the line of it.

You paused mid-sentence as her fingertips brushed your skin. "What are you doing?" you asked, smiling softly.

"Nothing.”

“Mhm," you hummed, completely unconvinced.

She didn't even think about it before leaning in. Her forehead bumped lightly against your shoulder first, and then she turned her head and pressed her lips to your bare skin.

They lingered there for a beat longer than she'd meant to. As her forehead pressed against the curve of your shoulder, her eyes closed, just for a second.

"You look very pretty today," she murmured against you, though she was not entirely sure you could hear her.

It was a hopeless sentence. Pretty wasn't nearly enough of a word anymore.

Ellie couldn't remember when compliments had become so frightening to say aloud. They always sounded so embarrassingly small compared to what she actually meant.

A moment passed before you answered. "...Just today?" Then, your fingers found the small bun at the back of her head. "So every other day I look ugly?"

Ellie's lips twitched into a smile against your skin before pressing one more small kiss to the same spot. “I didn't say that.”

Your fingers closed around her bun, and then you gently tugged it until she lifted her face from your shoulder. "Okay, but you implied it."

"I didn't imply anything."

"You kind of did." You were fully smiling now, not even pretending not to enjoy this. "You only said it today. That's implying something, Ellie."

Clearly, you were about to settle in for this argument like you had all the time in the world to win it. Which you did not have all the time in the world. You were already running late.

She knew she needed to leave and that you also needed to leave, matter of fact, judging by the sounds coming from somewhere deeper in the house, like your mom calling your name with increasing urgency.

Ellie groaned, cutting you off before you could keep digging the hole she'd accidentally fallen into.

"Shush," Ellie said, as her thumb pressed into one cheek while her fingers gently squished the other, just enough to make your lips pout.

The words died in your throat immediately. You tried to look offended, but it was difficult with Ellie still holding your face like that. Instead, you looked kind of adorable with your brows furrowed and your lips pouty, feigning indignation.

She gave it a quick peck, right in the center of it. "Okay," she said, pulling back. "Gimme another kiss and I'll be on my way."

“Oh my god. You're so romantic.”

"Yeah, well. I'm on a schedule, so...”

"You know," you said as both of her hands settled on either side of your face again, "I don't appreciate you being this bossy. What happened to asking before you kissed me?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, though she was smiling too, and leaned in again. Your lips touched, just barely. This time there wasn't any teasing or talking, just the quiet little moment of your foreheads brushing before your noses bumped together again.

Before Ellie could steal the kiss she'd spent the last ten minutes trying to get, something heavy barreled into both of you.

The noise that escaped her against your mouth was not remotely romantic.

A familiar blur of golden fur wedged itself shamelessly between the two of you, nearly knocking Ellie sideways before planting both front paws against her hip.

"Mikey," you laughed. “What are you doing?”

When she looked down, Mikey looked up at her, completely unbothered by what he'd just interrupted. He looked, in fact, quite pleased with himself. His tail was whipping so enthusiastically that his entire back half seemed to wiggle with it.

He'd gotten so huge.

Little remained of the tiny puppy he used to be, and Ellie hadn't even noticed it happening. Seeing him every week had made the change almost invisible, but over the last few months he'd stopped being the puppy who fit in your arms and turned into... this.

Still a baby, according to you. A baby who was absolutely convinced every ounce of your affection belonged to him and him only.

She didn't even let go of your face.

Your hands were still wrapped loosely around her wrists, keeping her exactly where she was, while she stared down at him for a second. "Fuck off, Mikey.”

You looked down too, following Ellie's gaze, before immediately breaking into a smile. "Don't be rude to him."

Ellie looked back at you, an incredulous expression on her face. "He's literally cockblocking me."

"Well," you said, dropping one of your hands to scratch behind one of his ears, "You're kissing his mom. Of course he doesn't like that."

Ellie sighed the longest, most put-upon sigh imaginable. "Okay. Okay, let's just ignore him. Come here.”

"Ellie! he just wants—"

"He's fine." She kissed you again, briefly, before pulling back enough to look at you properly. "I didn't come here for him."

"That's so mean…"

Without answering, her hands found you and pulled you in.

You swayed forward with no resistance, arms rising up to loop around her neck. Ellie pressed her palms flat against the small of your back and drew you flush against her.

One of her hands wandered higher, fingertips tracing the line of your spine through the thin fabric of your dress before settling between your shoulder blades.

Ellie kissed you again, slower this time.

Your mouths found each other with the easy familiarity that only came from spending far too much time kissing each other these past few weeks. You tilted your head almost instinctively, and the kiss deepened just enough.

Her breath caught halfway through the kiss.

It itched somewhere beneath her ribs, the familiar ache that arrived whenever her heart got ahead of the rest of her. For one clumsy second, she almost forgot how to kiss you back.

Her lips missed yours by the smallest fraction when she tried to follow your mouth, earning the quietest laugh against her lips.

Still, her arms refused to loosen. She even pulled you just a little closer on instinct, even when there wasn't an inch left to steal.

Just closer, until your heartbeat blurred into hers. Until the world outside your embrace became little more than background noise.

When you finally pulled back, it was barely. Just enough that your lips weren't touching but your foreheads still were.

"You should go. You're gonna be late." you said against her mouth.

"Yeah."

Yet, she didn't move. Neither did you.

Your hands were still curled into the fabric of her shirt like you were keeping her there. Like she was going anywhere.

But she had to go somewhere, so she finally pulled back.

You followed, unwinding your arms from her neck. You reached up and fixed the collar of her shirt instead. "You really don't want to come? I know you don't know anyone but…"

For one stupid second, Ellie imagined saying yes. Sitting beside you in the car and letting your mom tease her while your dad pretended not to, as always.

The thought disappeared almost as quickly as it'd come.

Not only did she have to study, but she was also sweaty and underdressed. Beneath all those perfectly reasonable excuses, though, was the real one.

What was she to you?

What would she be to you when all these people looked at the two of you and asked? What was she supposed to say if someone asked?

She didn't know. She didn't know what you'd say. She didn't know what she was. Whatever this was still didn't have a name, so the thought of standing in a room full of people who might ask that question while she had no answer for it… Yeah, no.

"Nah. I have to study," Ellie said. Part truth, part lie.

You pouted, clearly quietly disappointed but without trying to weaponize it.

"Okay..."

"Hey," she said quietly. "I'd go if I could. You know I would."

"Yeah, I know," you said, in the voice that matched the pout. "I just—"

Ellie looked at it for exactly as long as she could stand it… which was two seconds.

Then, she kissed it. Once, softly. It stayed. So, she kissed it again. And again. Little kisses right to the center of your bottom lip, then the top one. Then the corner of your mouth, until she felt them twitch helplessly.

A giggle escaped out of you before you could stop it, bubbling up and breaking whatever face you'd been trying to hold.

"Stop," you said, still giggling.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said. "We can go get ice cream if you want.”

She saw the small disappointment ease a little. "I would really like that."

"Then it's settled. Text me when you get back?"

You smiled. "You text me when you get home. It's getting dark."

"I'll be fine."

"Text me anyway."

She would, obviously. She'd text you the second she walked in the door and probably twice more before going to bed.

Ellie let out the longest sigh she'd breathed all afternoon.

Her gaze finally dropped to the notebook still lying abandoned on the doorstep, exactly where it'd slipped from her hands.

So much for in and out.

She bent to pick it up and tucked it back beneath her arm. Then she took one step backward, then another.

Her backpack hung from one shoulder again, notebook tucked securely beneath her arm this time. She pointed a finger at you.

"Have fun," she said. "Tell your cousin happy birthday."

You pointed right back at her. "Don't study too hard."

"I won't."

"Eat something."

"I will."

"You better!”

As a response, Ellie lifted one hand awkwardly and gave you a thumbs up as she finally turned around, before she could embarrass herself any further.

She made it halfway down the walkway before risking one last glance over her shoulder.

Your ponytail was slightly crooked from all the kissing and your lip gloss thoroughly ruined thanks to her.

Still leaning against the doorframe, you raised your own thumb in return.

Ellie walked home with a sheepish grin and the faint taste of caramel kiss still in her lips.

Ordinarily, your work does not put you in the direct line of the Harbingers. You’re more of the downstairs kind; the neat little maid who peeps into bedrooms only when they’re empty, to dust mantelpieces and clear the ashes of fireplaces and make the beds so that the inhabitants of Zapolyarny Palace find their abode in perfect condition no matter when they return to it. In the rare cases that somebody does enter a room whilst you’re working, you’re to stand in front of the nearest wall and avert your eyes until they’ve passed, or until you can find a suitable moment to back out of the space and leave them to their business. Whatever that is.

One doesn’t get very far in this line of work if they’re too interested in what goes on behind closed doors here.

Speaking of closed doors: you have drawn to a stop before Lady Sandrone’s chamber door, the tea tray in hand. A brief frisson of fear goes through you: you are not used to being looked at. You are not used to having the eyes of your betters upon you. You try to resist the urge to pat your hair and pull at your clothes to make sure that you’re presentable: you’re certain they won’t give you more than a moment’s notice.

You’re simply furniture to them, you remind yourself, as you balance the tray carefully on one hand in order to give a sharp tap upon the door. A low, amused voice comes from within that most certainly does not belong to Lady Sandrone.

“Come in.”

Of course they do not get the door for you; that would make things far too easy. They probably have not even thought that you might struggle to do so: servants are furniture, after all. You carefully use your elbow to press down the door handle and your shoulder to push it open, thankful that they have at least thought to kept the door unlocked. You slowly enter the room, the teapot and the teacups on their heavy silver tray held before you like it is a sacrifice to them.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and when they do your breath catches in your throat at the sight of the four beautiful Fatui Harbinger women before you.

“Oh!” Lady Columbina – you recognise her, the ethereal woman with the mask over her eyes. “Our tea!”

They’re dressed as casually as you’ve ever seen; whenever the newspapers or magazines print images of Harbingers, they’re always draped in furs and silks, proud faces staring from the pages. But here, in Lady Sandrone’s rooms, they are dressed down as if ready to sleep. The Fair Lady reclines on a sofa in a ruffled nightgown. Lord Arlecchino wears slippers and a shirt open low in the chest. Lady Sandrone and Lady Columbina wear comfortable nightgowns – frilled and embroidered, naturally, and far more expensive than anything you’ve owned in your life, but undoubtedly nightwear all the same.

You try to bob into a curtsey and almost spill the tea, your cheeks going hot at the feeling of being looked at by all of them. Their attention focuses in upon you: far more than they would a piece of furniture.

“Oh,” purrs the Fair Lady, stretching out on the sofa like a cat before she pushes herself up. “Good. They sent a pretty one, like I asked.”

She moves towards you with purpose, with a leonine kind of grace that makes your heart beat too fast in your chest. The neckline of her nightgown hangs off her shoulder, and you’re struck suddenly by how much taller she is than you. How much this feels like a cat playing with a mouse.

“M-may I put the tray down and leave you in peace, My Lady?” You ask, your voice coming out in a nervous warble – and from the armchair in the room, a lower voice gives a satiny chuckle.

“You’re scaring them, Rosalyne,” says the Knave, and you see that despite her words she has a mild smile on her face. Lady Sandrone scowls.

“Put it down then,” she says. “Come into the room and let us look at you.”

“My . . . My Lord Harbingers--”

An impatient click of Sandrone’s tongue.

“We don’t have all day, you know,” she says, waspish. You’ve heard of Lady Sandrone having an awkward demeanour and a temper that’s quick to fire – you suppose they’re right. Still. You do not want to be getting on the wrong side of any Harbinger. You think helplessly of the tasks you haven’t yet gotten to (the windowsills are supposed to be dusted down, the grand table laid for supper) – but you’ve been witness to too many conversations about how the Harbingers treat those who displease them then to want to find yourself amongst those ranks.

Awkwardly, you bob another curtsey as you walk into the room proper. Signora gives a satisfied hum, and you just about manage to stop yourself from jumping in alarm when the door slams shut behind you and you hear the unmistakeable click of a key turning in the lock.

You place the tea tray upon the low table in the room. You’re grateful to see that not a drop of it has spilt. At least you can be certain of one thing amongst all of this strangeness.

You fist your hands in your apron, horribly aware of how it feels to have so many people’s eyes (although you’re not sure if you can truly consider the Damselette to be ‘looking’ at you) upon your form when you’re so used to being an invisible member of the masses. Signora walks back into the centre of the room, taking her place on the sofa once more although not lying prone upon it again. Instead, she leans forward slightly, interest colouring the one visible eye.

“Come here,” says the Knave, curling her fingers toward you and motioning to the spot in front of her chair. The Damselette has drifted towards the three other Harbingers and you now, taking a seat on the floor on her knees. There’s a faint smile on her face, too. Your cheeks still hot, you follow the instructions as a servant is supposed to, and find yourself stood before the woman. “Turn around and face the others,” she says, her voice still quiet and calm, strangely comforting in this unusual situation. You swallow audibly, but do as she says.

“My . . . Ladies?” You hazard, aloud, but your words are stopped in the air as quickly as they come when Arlecchino places her hands consideringly upon your hips, her fingers curling into the soft flesh there.

“Very nice,” says Signora, appreciatively. Sandrone makes a soft harrumph.

“They’ll do, I suppose,” she says, as Columbina stands from her position and practically floats over to Marionette. That faint smile on her face does not budge an inch, as she lays a hand on Sandrone’s shoulder and gives her own nod of assent, humming out a snatch of melody. A faint flush rises in Sandrone’s cheeks.

“D-do for what?” You ask, your voice coming out quiet and warbling in the room, which suddenly seems to have gotten ten times hotter than before. Arlecchino laughs softly, her hands curving down over your hips, lower and lower beneath the apron and the skirt of your uniform, until they alight on bare thigh. You let out a surprised cry, realise what you’re doing, and try to stop the cry in its tracks by biting into your lower lip.

“Oh,” Signora practically coos, and now she’s standing too, walking towards you with a sultry sway in her hips. You hadn’t realised just how tall she was before, but your eyeline is roughly around her generous chest before she leans down towards you and uses one finger to tilt your chin up to look her in the eye. “Absolutely adorable. I think I’ll allow myself the pleasure of being first.”

“First--?”

Your words are stopped by Signora’s hand wrapping around the back of your head and pulling you in for a kiss that feels like it burns down to your bones.

There’s a cry of complaint from across the room that you think comes from Sandrone, but you can’t concentrate with the Fair Lady’s mouth pressed against yours, soft and cool and full. Her tongue laps across the seam of your lips, and in surprise you open them and she takes the opening and slips it into your mouth. Arlecchino’s hands on your thighs move to grip, holding you in place – but her fingertips come far too close to the place between your legs, and panic alights like a dull flashing light in your brain.

Your gasp is swallowed up by the kiss you’ve found yourself in, though, and so you’re helpless to do anything other than let yourself be anchored in place and let Signora plunder your mouth hungrily.

After another long moment, another sweep of her tongue, she pulls back from you with a satisfied sigh and a wet pop. She regards you with a smile from beneath her half-closed eyelid.

“Oh, but you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you? Arlecchino, you ought to kiss them too, seeing as you helped so much . . .”

“These are my chambers--” Sandrone’s outraged voice seems to rise in pitch, but Signora turns and holds a finger up to the incensed other Harbinger. Columbina keeps her hand where it is, even as Sandrone seems to burn with the indignation of it.

“Watch. If anyone can work them over, it will be our Knave. You know what an effect Lord Arlecchino has on the . . . timid ones.”

You don’t know quite what you expect, but you don’t expect the tug backwards on your thighs until you find yourself pulled onto Arlecchino’s lap, all ungainly frills and aprons and lace and stockings. Your face is so hot you fear you could fry an egg on it, but you’re too scrambled by everything going on to say anything, as much as you want to babble out your apologies and run for the door.

Arlecchino, though, seems to know exactly what to do – she pulls you closer against her, rearranges your uniform, and then you find yourself sitting on her lap with your back to her front, your legs bracketing one of her solid thighs.

“Poor thing,” Arlecchino murmurs into your ear, her voice soft and low and soothing. “You’re not used to being looked at, are you? Don’t worry. You’re very easy on the eye.”

You want to protest against that, but Arlecchino has reached between you both and you give a squeak of surprise as your apron falls to the floor, untied by one clever hand.

“You don’t need all of this in front of us,” Arlecchino continues. “It’s easier if we take it off, isn’t it? Ah. The dress too, I think--” The soft clink clink clink of the hooks and eyes of your dress being removed, and this garment is pulled over your head and you cry out aloud as you’re left in just your underwear in front of all four of the Harbingers. “There we are. Oh, you are pretty.”

The Damselette, never one for traditional manners, removes her hand from Sandrone’s shoulder to walk over to you – even with her eyes covered, you can sense her interest, and she hums in the back of her throat as she runs a hand over your collarbone, dipping to the line of your chest through your thin brassiere. When your nipples harden at the brush of her palm, she lets out a soft, musical laugh.

“Columbina,” says Signora, surprisingly gentle, and she pulls back, but still hovers closer than she has been before. You have the unnatural sense of being watched, far closer and more intensely by Columbina than she was when she was by the Marionette. Sandrone, for her part, does not seem to want to be left behind, and she stands too so that the three of them bracket you in, a loose half-circle around where Arlecchino has you straddling her thigh. The Knave gives a little chuckle.

“See?” Arlecchino murmurs. “They can’t resist. Shall we give them a show?”

“I don’t . . . understand . . .” Your voice is a helpless thing, when you can feel the pleasant curls of heat low in your belly that remind you of how lovely you find every lady Harbinger, how enjoyable it is to be viewed as something pretty. Arlecchino’s hand brushes lower, lower, over the soft curve of your stomach and onto the plain cotton of your underwear.

“Shh,” she murmurs in response. “I won’t hurt you. None of us will. At least . . . not in any way you won’t enjoy.”

A rush of heat; those dark-tipped fingers, so much like claws, slipping past the waistband of your underwear. You let out a heated gasp as they stroke over your pubic mound and then lower, lower, slipping between the plump lips of your sex to the slick heat between.

“Speak for yourself,” Signora says, her voice husky. “I think that something that’s been hiding their loveliness from us for so long deserves a touch of punishment. Perhaps a spanking?”

You practically quiver under the idle threat combined with Arlecchino’s fingers, as they continue to slide between your thighs and map out the length of your slit. You’re aware of just how hot you are; the warmth and the wetness all at once making you feel dizzy. And the thought of being spanked--

“I said that they wouldn’t enjoy,” Arlecchino says mildly. “Judging by how they feel here . . .” Arlecchino punctuates her sentence with the briefest brush of fingers over the swollen button of your clit, “that’s not something they’re entirely against.”

“Take off their underwear,” Sandrone orders, imperious. “I can’t see.”

“My Lord Arlecchino--”

The Knave presses a kiss to the side of your head and you go all-over useless, your limbs melting under the brief moment of affection. It is so difficult to find anyone who is truly thankful to you in your line of work – anybody who really appreciates what you do. Would it be so bad, to let yourself be used by these women who already seem so much more appreciative of your presence than you’ve encountered in months?”

“I think we can oblige, don’t you?” She asks, her voice very warm and low like liquid honey, and you find yourself nodding in agreement as if hypnotised – letting her urge you onto your feet for a moment, off her thigh, in order to pull the sodden garment down your thighs and off your legs and onto the floor. “This too, I think--” And then you are divested, too, of your brassiere, your nipples standing to stiff attention in the room before them all. Tight coils of embarrassment mixed with arousal seem to keep them hard, noticeable to every woman in the room. Signora practically coos to see you standing there like this.

You dither for a moment, but are quickly pulled back onto Arlecchino’s lap – albeit in an entirely different position to the one you were in before.

Your thighs spread wide, your feet hooked behind her ankles, your back pressing against Arlecchino with one arm wrapped around your waist. In this position, there is no shying away – your thighs are forced wide, the lips of your sex open and displaying your clit and your entrance and just how wet you’ve allowed yourself to get from Arlecchino’s touch. Your chest heaving in soft little pants.

“There,” Arlecchino says, with more than a touch of the smugness about her – and then she reaches between your legs, delving between your thighs, and uses two finger to spread your lower lips even further apart. “My. Messy little thing.”

Columbina tilts her head to the side and then says, in her soft, strange, musical voice;

“I can help.”

You don’t realise exactly what she’s going to do until she’s before you, and her fingers are brushing along your thighs with the most feather light of touches, and then she is sinking onto her knees. You almost buck against Arlecchino in alarm as you feel surprisingly cool breath against your heated sex, but the woman has you in too strong a grip to do anything but squirm a little.

“Don’t,” Columbina says, voice lilting. “Don’t worry. You just seem like you need to relax. I think you could do with some help.”

You don’t think this is one of the usual ways that a superior – for that is what every woman in this room is to you – helps a servant relax, but you find yourself unable to say much to that effect as Columbina leans in and you feel the cool, wet muscle of a tongue flick teasingly out to taste you.

You suck in a ragged breath, your mind warring with your body about everything that is currently happening to you. You cannot deny that Columbina’s tongue against your most private and intimate parts feels good; you should know, from her singing, that she is entirely aware of just how to use her tongue. And yet it does come as a surprise – just how much she takes to working that same tongue over you, the delicate flick of the tip against your clit, the sensation of her dragging the flat of it down the length of you.

The way she doesn’t seem to mind that your arousal is wetting her cheeks; the fact she keeps making soft little hums of pleasure as she does it. Despite the blindfold covering her eyes, it’s as if she knows every one of your weakest spots – every sensitive little nerve that has your body feeling like tiny jolts of electricity are ricocheting all over your skin.

Arlecchino’s breath hitches in her throat, too, as she watches Columbina’s head between your thighs. You cannot imagine what you look like to the assembled throng; all in disarray over one of superior’s lap with another of them between your legs, Arlecchino’s fingers still lewdly spreading you open so you can’t even try to get away from the exploring tongue.

She doesn’t go at it with aplomb; she takes her time lapping at you, as if you’re some new flavour she wants to take the time to enjoy. But your body does not agree with the idea of taking time, and you feel the way that hot curls of want seem to keep curling inside of you. Helplessly, you reach for the arms of the armchair you’re spread over, digging your fingers into the plush upholstery.

“Columbina,” comes a petulant voice, and you look up to see that Sandrone is staring at you both with her lip twisted to one side, as if she’s considering whether or not she wants to get involved in this – but despite that, her hands are fisted in her dress and there’s a layer atop her words, a kind of breathlessness you didn’t realise an artificial body could create, that suggests she’s being rather flustered by the show. “If you go at it like that, you’ll never achieve any results!”

Columbina’s mouth pulls off your sex with a luridly wet pop, and you go hot again to see the way her delicate tongue flicks out to clean the wet droplets of your arousal still painting her lips.

“Oh?” Columbina asks, with only the slightest tilt of her head and a smile still on her face. “Isn’t the process just as enjoyable?”

Sandrone huffs out a noise of outrage and frustation.

“Of course you would think that,” she seethes, and she, too, moves towards you. She nudges Columbina aside with her foot and – much to your surprise – sinks down to join her on her knees. She takes a moment to look at you (and oh, you’re so terribly aware of the way Arlecchino is spreading your sex apart, so that she can see exactly how wet you are, exactly how it feels as though your clit is pulsing under the scrutiny).

“Sandrone,” Arlecchino says, and though her voice is mild there’s something that’s almost a warning – Sandrone looks at you again, and rolls her eyes.

“Alright,” she says, with a sigh. “I won’t hurt either. I just want to show our Moon Maiden how she should have gone about it if she wanted to get results—”

You let out a faltering noise as Sandrone, business-like and ruthless, runs her finger down your slit. Making a pleased little noise at how wet she finds you, she rotates her wrist slightly, so that she can press a finger against your entrance and gently circle her thumb around the pulsing button of your clit. And then, with no more fanfare, she slides that finger inside of you.

You jerk, unused to the intrustion – but Sandrone clicks her tongue and Arlecchino makes a soft soothing noise against your ear and keeps you anchored against her.

“Don’t mind our Lady Sandrone,” she says, whisper-quiet like a secret. “She gets rather invested in her projects – if anything, you should feel honoured she’s finding you worthy of her attention.”

“That’s right,” Sandrone says, looking up, as she crooks her finger inside of you, testing the way you feel around her. Her thumb doesn’t stop the maddening circle of your clit. “You should thank me, I think!” She pulls the finger out and pumps it once or twice, in and out of you, before she puts another finger against your entrance and looks up at you expectantly.

Your mind feels like a mess of wires, all tangled up. You can’t deny that the feel of something inside of you is intoxicating; that Sandrone knows what she’s doing with the inexorable rotation of her thumb, that Columbina’s exploratory tongue has stoked a fire in you that you can’t ignore. But it still takes you a minute to puzzle around it, to let your own heavy tongue reply to the request for gratitude.

“Th-thank you, My Lady . . .?” You hazard, and Signora laughs. Everybody in the room must be able to hear how flustered you are and how out of it all of this attention is making you feel. You, too, can hear the breathiness in your words, the thickness in your throat – and as Sandrone slides her second finger inside of you, you release a whining, stuttering moan.

There’s the slightest stretch, of course – but there’s also a feeling of fullness that you’re entirely unfamiliar with, a kind of slight sting that makes you want to roll your eyes back in your head. Sandrone gives a little pleased ‘hmph’, before she once again sets to working those fingers in annd out of you, pumping slowly, mimicking the movements that you’d one day thought a man might do to you--

You would never have once imagined this particular situation. Even in the midst of it all, you can barely believe it’s happening – all four of these beautiful women, all so focused on you, on the noises you’re making and the reactions you’re giving them . . . Sandrone crooks her fingers inside of you again in a come-hither motion, and somehow it seems as though she brushes against some kind of switch in the hot, tight channel of your sex and you moan, louder and more wanton than any noise you’ve ever heard yourself make.

“I’m trying to concentrate,” Sandrone admonishes you, but there’s a smug pride in her voice as she continues to mercilessly work that new spot inside of you, forcing more shockwaves of pleasure forward. It’s . . . overwhelming, in the most primal of ways. To have Sandrone do this for you, her fingers curling and pumping, her thumb working over your clit now with more pressure. You can feel the muscles in your thighs jumping, your toes curling helplessly, your shoulders shaking.

“Don’t worry,” says Signora, and you can hear her smile even as your lashes flutter. “You can be as loud as you want, sweet thing. The rest of us don’t mind hearing you at all.”

A click of Sandrone’s tongue, but she doesn’t sound all that angry – she’s far too busy being pleased with herself, as helpless little whines and whimpers keep escaping from your mouth. The slick sound of her fingers pumping into you embarrasses you and thrills you all at the same time, and that feeling does nothing to quell the excitement you feel building up in you.

“That’s right,” Arlecchino coos. “Let go.”

“So soon?” Sandrone asks, but then she lets out a laugh and she seems to increase her speed to a point that almost seems inhuman, more machine than anything else – and that feeling you’ve felt building in you, that ball of heat and wanting, that need to do something without the knowledge of what it is . . . that all escapes you, all at once, and you come under Sandrone’s clever fingers.

Oh.

You do more than come.

Something about where she’s been stroking you and the pressure and the speed all comes together, and you feel something else inside of you break – and you feel a gush, fluid spilling forth from you, onto Sandrone’s fingers and onto Arlecchino’s lap and onto your own inner thighs.

You barely notice all of that, though. Far more pressing is the way that your orgasm seems to explode into being, the fireworks, the way it feels your body is being disassembled and then being put back together. Your thighs shake – and your mouth is moaning, whimpering, helplessly making noises into the heated air.

She carries on through your orgasm, though she does at least have the decency to slow down, to help you over the peaks of your release with stroking, gentler fingers. She waits for your breath to almost even out, before she slowly, slowly pulls her fingers out of you.

She looks down at those fingers and shakes her head, making a click of displeasure with her tongue.

“You’ve made a mess,” she tells you, as smug as before – but then Signora laughs from her place.

“Then have the sweet little thing clean you up,” she says, and a hot flush climbs up the back of your neck – but Sandrone smiles sweetly and stands up and then places her fingers in front of your lips, wet and glistening with your ow slick.

“With your tongue,” Sandrone says. “Be good, now.”

You’re hesitant as you do it – but you do it even so, almost enjoying the thrill of how corrupt it makes you feel, to move your head forward and envelope Sandrone’s fingers within the warm, wet cave of your mouth. She’s clearly not expecting you to be so eager about it, either – when she feels your tongue hesitantly probing against the finger joints, she lets out a shaky breath as she waits for you to finish.

She pulls her hand back and tries to gather up her poise again, and with a little sniff she says;

“Well. I suppose . . . that was very nice.”

Columbina laughs, and then the Damselette is at Sandrone’s shoulder again, placing her delicate hand upon the other Harbinger’s own and pulling her back. As they retreat a little further into the room, you swear you see Columbina press a fleeting kiss to the corner of Sandrone’s mouth--

“Oh my,” says Signora, smiling at you. “It seems I didn’t get to go first after all. What a terrible pity.” Her uncovered eye gleams. “Still – I suppose that it means I get to do something a little different. After all – you’ve gotten to come, haven’t you? Been happy to be the receiver? I daresay it’s about time for you to try giving.”

“My lady?” You warble, unsure of what she means – but Arlecchino makes a noise of agreement, and she lets her arm around your waist ease off and gently assists you to stand on shaky legs, like a fawn taking its first steps.

Signora laughs.

“Oh, how cute.” She turns and walks purposely towards the sofa, where she comfortably settles herself – and then she takes the hem of her nightgown in her elegant fingers and pulls it up around her waist, bunching up the fabric behind her so that her legs and her thighs and the tempting golden pale hair at the vee of those thighs is revealed. She heaves a soft sigh and pleasure and then, stretching like a cat, parts her thighs so that you can see her own sex between them, pink and glistening in the firelight. “Look what you’ve done to me. The least you could do is come and do something about it.”

“H-how, My Lady?” You whisper, though your mouth has gone dry at the sight of her, so beautiful and statuesque and entirely at ease. Signora laughs aloud once more.

“Why, Columbina’s already done it for you and you don’t have an inkling at all of what I might want you to do with your pretty mouth?”

You take back what you thought about your mouth going dry before – because now it is a Sumeru desert.

“I . . . you would allow me to do that?” You whisper, and Arlecchino stands too. She places a gentle hand in the middle of your lower back and pushes you forward.

“Oh, sweetness,” Signora purrs. “I’d be getting even more out of it. Think of it as . . . repayment for me having the forethought to summon such a pretty maid to the tea party. Come get on your knees for me, hmm?”

You don’t know if you would have been able to do it – to gather up enough courage to walk over there and dare to put your mouth upon a Harbinger – if it hadn’t been for Arlecchino, walking with you. She gently pushes down on your shoulder once you’re there, and as you sink to your knees she takes a seat beside Signora, pulling the other woman’s thigh onto her lap.

Signora makes a soft noise of pleasure not unlike a cat’s, and then wraps her hand around the back of Arlecchino’s head to pull her into a kiss that makes your heart hammer in your chest, it’s so full of sensuality and hunger. Arlecchino kisses her back, hungry for the other woman’s mouth, her teeth tugging at the plump fullness of Signora’s bottom lip. When they separate, both of them have half-lidded, wanting eyes as they look down at you.

“Isn’t that cute on you,” Signora purrs, and she places a hand loosely on the top of your head, fingertips tangling in your hair. “Don’t be shy now. I’m sure you’ll be an expert in no time.”

It still requires determination to breach that final gap. You can smell Signora on the air; sweet and slightly musky, something that makes you fair dizzy with wanting. Her fingers pet through your hair again, as she coos sweetly at you and you finally manage to bring forth the courage to put your mouth on her.

She’s so beautiful. Stately and graceful and above you – and yet here you are, about to do this for her, after she’s said so many sweet things about you . . .

Your tongue hesitantly reaches out, lapping against her heated core. She tastes sweet, a slight tang at the back of your mouth, but far from unpleasant – and as your tongue moves against her, she lets out a pleased sigh, shifting just so in order for you to be able to access her sex better. She rests her head on the back of the sofa with a pleased ‘mmm’ noise, and you notice that Arlecchino is drawing patterns with her fingers on Signora’s bare thigh.

Emboldened by the reaction, this time you flick the tip of your tongue against the slightly hidden pearl of Signora’s clit, and the woman gives a little thrust of her hips forward to encourage you to repeat the motion again. You do exactly what you think she’s guiding you to do and lick and suck at her clit, and you’re encouraged with sighs of pleasure and breathy little moans that make that ache low between your own thighs return.

“You could try sucking on it,” says Arlecchino, and you briefly glance up from below your lashes to see that she’s resting her head against Signora’s neck and chest, gazing down at you with those strange eyes and hunger in the set of her mouth like a wolf looking at a tender morsel.

You follow her advice, gently sucking the swollen bud (peeking out from beneath the hood now) into your mouth and sucking gently on it, and Signora’s hands tighten in your hair almost painfully. She groans, chest-deep, and then she adds her own voice to the advice though hers sounds more like an order:

“Don’t stop doing that.”

With such clear instructions, how could you possibly ignore her? You continue to suck on it, feeling it almost twitch in your mouth, the way that she keeps her legs apart even though she clearly wants to press them either side of your head and pull you in. Harbingers don’t get where they are by not having self-control, you suppose.

“Next time we’ll teach you how to use your fingers too,” you hear, a whisper behind you, and you realise that Columbina and Sandrone have come to join in. You think, from the sound of their voice, they’ve settled back onto the large pillows on the floor – but the far more pressing matter is in your mouth.

“I won’t be long,” Signora sighs, tilting her hips up even more. Her voice shakes and shudders. “Mm . . . you have no idea what watching you being worked over did to me--”

You double your attack on her, the thought of being the person who makes the Fair Lady come sending frissons of excitement all through you again. You let go of her clit for a moment to give more eager laps of her cunt, up and down, over and over, her sweet slick coating your tongue. You pay particular attention, though, to her clit – to keep going back, over and over.

And only partly because the insistent hand in your hair keeps dragging you back to it. You flick your tongue over it, an ache in the root of the organ because of how hard you’re trying – and then you feel it. Where your chin is practically buried in the softness of her sex, her entrance pulses once, then twice against you--

And Signora whines aloud, she finally gives in the urge to wrap her thighs around your face, a slippered foot digging into your back, and pulls you in to keep licking and sucking at her as she rides out the heated waves of her orgasm, soaking your cheeks, pulsing against you with hungry moans and the flex of those strong, lithe thighs.

By the time her shaking and groaning is done, and her thighs have released their hold on you to settle lazily back on the sofa, feet on the floor. She gazes at you, sleepy and sated, every inch a beautiful house cat.

Your gaze flickers nervously to the last woman in the room. You’re suddenly aware that, once again, there’s a pounding between your own legs that feels like a second heartbeat.

“Lord Arlecchino?” You whisper, shyly, your mouth still wet from Signora’s recent release. “Do . . . is there anything I can do for you?”

Signora lets out an amused laugh. Arlecchino looks at you, consideringly – it is not exactly a kind look, but you feel warmed by it even so.

“Our Knave prefers to play with toys,” Signora says. “And we hadn’t had enough time to procure them for this little soiree. Still . . . I daresay she’d very much like to play with you again. Don’t you think?” She addresses the last question to Arlecchino, who now gives a little smile to the other woman.

“Very much,” Arlecchino says. “I don’t think you’ve been nearly filled up enough tonight. Ah. One makes do, though.” She leans forward and brushes her dark-tipped thumb over your cheek, down to the corner of your mouth to wipe an errant droplet of slick from it. “I’m sure we’ll call on you again. Still. Until then . . . I think you ought to put your uniform back on. Someone from the palace is probably missing you.”

With the spare key, you slip inside the apartment and shut the door behind you. You expected a mess — a dirty kitchen, maybe some torn pillows — but, no. It’s relatively clean, save for a box of protein bars and empty chinese takeout on the counter.

You’re just about done kicking your shoes off by the entrance before the door at the end of the hallway creaks open. That one leads to her bedroom.

“Vi?” Again, you call out her name and hope for an answer. Nothing. You advance forward, guided by the sunlight that still streams in through the windows. “Listen, baby, I know you don’t want me here because you fear you’ll hurt me, but I—”

Ah.

Vi stops under the arch of the hallway. She’s slightly hunched over, and even then, damn near touches the wood above her. She’s stripped down to her boxers and binding tape. That’s not something you haven’t seen before.

The rest of her is.

Not only has she gained over a foot in height, but also what looks like to be at least twenty kilograms of pure muscle in weight. She’s never been one to shave, but the hair — or, fur, rather — at the base of her navel that travels south is much, much thicker. More pink tufts have sprouted along her shoulders. Longer sideburns.

Though Vi has yet to speak, you can still see the outline of the thick and sharp fangs that have grown within her mouth. Her ears, flattened to the sides of her head and pointed. It’s a mystery to how she can even comfortably get off, considering the length and sharpness of those claws.

“I told you not to come,” The words leave Vi in a rasp as she strolls forward. In spite of her new size, she makes little to no sound as she comes to stand before you. Honestly, her size is almost absurd, but you can already imagine yourself under her; squished down onto the bed, hips raised, and her mouth over your throat as she fucks you from behind into the mattress. Will you even be able to take all of her? “And still, you—”

She doesn’t manage to finish her sentence. Vi leans down, splaying one of her broad palms over the small of your back to press you against her frame. Her nose brushes over your throat, and she groans loudly. You don’t know what she’s just caught a whiff of, but it makes her entire spine shudder.

“You’re wet,” Vi states, voice thick. Her other hand travels down your torso, claws catching on the delicate cashmere of your sweater, until she cups you through your jeans. Gods, are her hands big. At least twelve inches, no doubt. Bigger than the length of your fucking skull. You gasp against her ear as the heel of her palm applies pressure against your clothed clit, steadying yourself by grasping onto her broad shoulders. “I won’t be myself in this state. You understand that, right?”

You do.

It’s not hard to see just how much Vi’s pulling herself together here. Her jaw’s clenched so tight it’s a wonder her molars haven’t cracked. There’s tension in her muscles you can feel with every shift under your fingers.

“I do.”

That’s all Vi needs before she’s lifting you up into her arms without so much of a grunt. Her mouth seals over yours just as your thighs hook around her waist, and her lips eagerly part to meet your tongue halfway. She mutters an apology when the tip of your tongue catches on the pointed end of a fang, though eventually moves to feast on your throat instead.

Vi stumbles backwards until she finally makes it into the bedroom, and though at the peak of her rut, is still mindful of how she throws you onto the bed. The bed is what’s a mess.

Piles of pillows against the headboard that follow in a semi-circle along the crumbled sheets. It’s mostly extra blankets that work as a cushion, though you do catch view of an oddly familiar pair of panties you’d lost months ago in the corner.

Vi’s hands land on your hips, snapping you out of your thoughts. A groan vibrates in her throat as she raises your lower half in the air, connecting your clothed cunt with her own hidden, but very evident, arousal. It’s almost painful, considering you’re in your jeans, but Vi makes quick work of them soon enough.

Her claws catch on your thigh from how quickly she rips the denim down your legs, and Vi soothes the sting with a lick and kiss before moving on to your sweater next. She splays her palm over your belly, muttering something you can’t quite catch under her breath.

“What’s with the…?” You trail off with a breath, leaning back against the mound of pillows and blankets. “This.”

“It’s a nest,” Vi answers as she lowers herself, nuzzling her cheek over your neck before her mouth latches onto the skin. You can’t suppress a moan as she nips and suckles the sensitive flesh, and your hands find their natural placement on her head when she pushes your bralette up to expose your breasts into the air. “Instinct, I guess. More comfortable. Good place for future pups.”

“Future what?” You echo.

Vi groans, perhaps at the sound of those words coming from your mouth, and gives a nod. She rips your bralette in half with ease, the fabric giving away under the strength. You want to snap at her for it, but really, the sight of her thick and veiny forearms are awfully distracting.

“Pups,” Vi hums into your skin, briefly lapping at one of your breasts before scooting backwards to work her way down your body. Her hands slide down your sides until they cup your hips once more, and she squeezes until the soft flesh yields between every gap of her fingers. “I’d give you a whole litter. Keep you here, safe and sound…”

You know it’s just her hormones and instincts talking — probably — and choose to indulge her. You’re not completely lost to the anatomy of a werewolf in rut.

"And you'd do that, how? Knotting me?"

Teasing Vi in this state is probably not the smartest move.

Her pointed ears flick once before she rips your panties with both hands. The torn fabric is tossed over her shoulder, and you yelp as she stands on her knees and lifts your entire lower half up. Your feet fall to the sides, leaving your cunt exposed. Much like Vi had guessed earlier, you're already wet, but that's not enough for her.

She lowers her head between your legs and spits over your mound. You shudder with a grunt, feeling as the warm glob rolls past the hood of your clit to run down to your entrance. Vi's gaze doesn't meet yours just yet, and she instead looks from her fingers to your sex. Back, and forth.

A deep whine echoes from her throat as she shakes her head.

"Finger yourself," Vi orders, glancing down at you. Her claws dig into the meat of your hips, drawing some blood. "Work yourself open for me."

"Like this?" You gesture down at yourself with one hand, a huff following suit. It's not the most comfortable of positions for you to touch your damn self.

"Like this."

But you won't argue.

You trail your dominant hand down, reaching over with your middle and ring finger to slide down to your entrance. Vi watches with rapt attention as you lubricate your fingers with the mix of her spit and your slick, and she groans in satisfaction as one of your fingers disappears into your warmth.

Maybe you don’t get as much pleasure from fingering yourself as you would from Vi doing it, but the psychological aspect of being ordered and watched is another different thing. Vi usually speaks filth and praise into your ear when you two fuck, but it seems like she can’t get anything beyond grunts and whines out. Her pupils expand as you add yet another finger, leaving only slim ring of her grey irises visible.

“Add another one,” She rasps, curling her hands tighter around your hips. “You’ll need it.”

You don’t have to look down to know Vi’s not just being cocky about her size. The outline of her dick beneath those boxers is a little intimidating, honestly. She’s fucked you with big straps before, yeah, but she’s never fucked you in this form.

Her hands appear to be twelve inches now.

Lord knows what’s going on down there.

So you do as told, sinking a third digit into your cunt. The stretch aches, but this time, Vi aids by keeping your hips elevated with one hand and raising her free one to suck her thumb into her mouth. Then, she lowers it to rub circles over your clit. You relax around yourself little by little, worked up by your fingers, Vi’s thumb on your clit, and the sound of her desperate little pants the longer you finger yourself for.

You're already feeling that climb. The warmth that begins to pool and curl deep in your belly, the flush that begins to run down to your fingertips, and the itch you're eager to tear to have that orgasm.

But, Vi rips that feeling by pulling her thumb away.

"Fuck you, Vi.." You hiss, dropping your head back onto the mountain of pillows with a groan. You pull your fingers out with a grunt, and before you can wipe them clean on the sheets, Vi does the job by leaning down and taking them into your mouth.

"Hm?" Vi croons, the grin that curls the corners of her lips making the fangs behind them peak out. "Do you want to say that again?"

She doesn't give you much time to answer before she's pushing her boxers down. Vi hisses as her length is freed, pink brows furrowing as it slaps against her stomach. She's painfully hard, the pink head — which goes a bit past her belly button — weeps with pre. There's the knot at the base, not yet swollen to it's full potential, but still there.

But before you can appreciate her bare self, she's rolling you over onto your belly. You raise your head, but Vi's right hand is quick to snap out and press itself flat between your shoulder blades. You're left with no choice but to keep your cheek squished to the sheets, and are just barely able to peek over your shoulder. Her free hand grasps your hip, lifting it so that your spine forms a comfortable arch.

"Look at you," Vi grunts, giving a pat to your hip as a silent order to remain in position. She lets go, if only to grasp herself and align the tip of her cock over your entrance. You breathe out against the bedding as she pushes in barely over an inch, then withdraws. "S'eager for me... I'll have you stuffed full soon enough."

She makes quick on that promise with a swift, smooth roll of her hips forward. A choked whine spills from your lips as she stretches you open, curling your fingers into the sheets to ease every intake of air and relax around her further. But Vi's huge— there's so much of her, and she's yet to sheathe herself inside fully. The hand on your upper back slides down to instead splay over your tummy, fingers spread to press up against the soft flesh just as Vi's hips meet your backside.

She's in, fully and entirely, and you're thankful she's giving you a few seconds to get used to the slight burnt of the stretch. Her fingertips press against the bulge beneath the fat, and you shudder as her breath suddenly ghosts over your neck when Vi bows forward.

"Do you feel that? Feel me?" There's a certain level of mirth in her tone, amplified by the chuckle that follows when you groan as her hips draw back a few inches, then snap back forward just as quickly. "Made to take me, I swear it..."

That's the last Vi says before she begins to fuck you properly.

Every roll of her hips is calculated— firm and rough yet perfectly angled to hit that sweet spot within you. The sheer bulk of her body keeps you pinned beneath her with no ability to move. You can only take, and take, and take, gasping against the sheets as the head of her cock kisses your cervix every so often, and her fingers keep pressing against the bulge her size forms. Saliva drips from her mouth down onto your shoulder, and you choke on your breath slightly as Vi's tongue laps it up.

Her hand over your belly slides down, middle and ring finger reaching over to rub circles on your clit. She matches the speed of her thrusts with every caress against the bud of nerves, and Vi chuckles against your ear when your hips begin to eagerly meet hers. It's overstimulating, almost, given that you're still somewhat sensitive from that denied orgasm from earlier. But Vi cares not.

You can feel that warmth building up all over again— quicker now, with much more intensity. Vi can tell, as she quits alternating the speed of her thrusts and keeps her pace even.

"Can feel— you squeezing me already. Eager for me to fill you, is that it?" Vi grunts against your ear. Her throat's a little drier now, and there's the occasional hiccup between her words; she's close herself, obviously. "I'll stuff you full, baby. Knot you to keep it alllll in there, keep your womb warm and—"

She cuts herself off with a groan, driven by instinct to instead seal her mouth over your right shoulder with a firm bite. You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain as your orgasm crashes over you, torn between the sweet flush of warmth it brings from head to toe, and the ache and burn her fangs cause by plunging into your flesh. Vi shudders as your blood hits her tongue, and she's quick to soothe the bite with her tongue before focusing on her own pleasure. Her thrusts are a little more clumsy now, quick and rough. She mutters against your shoulder, though given her teeth are still imbedded into your skin, leaves her words intelligible. You're sensitive, yet can still feel your cunt flutter around her cock in spasms to keep her going. It doesn't take long for Vi to meet her own end, and she comes with a deep groan against your shoulder.

Her knot forces its way in, earning a whimper from your throat at the extra and final stretch your walls are forced to accommodate. Vi's cock pulses, releasing thick and warm ropes of her seed into you. None of it leaks, not with the plug her knot acts as, settling deep in your womb— much like she had promised. It's a full minute before she ceases the slow rut of her hips and stills completely, and finally, she releases your shoulder and leans back to sit up on her knees.

It's an uncomfortable position, the one you two will be stuck in for a long while, so Vi settles for at least lowering your hips so that your stomach meets the mattress. Her thumb traces the indents of her teeth, wiping away the blood that still drips.

"We'll be here a while," She states, drawing a deep breath into her lungs before leaning down again. She exhales against your cheek and nuzzles her own over it, causing a slight shiver from you. "So get comfortable."

the first thing you notice is the cold. not the cold of the room.

no, the central heating kicked in around two in the morning, the way it always does when abby gets up to pee and decides you deserve to be warm.

you stir, reaching across the mattress, palm flattening against sheets that have long since gone cool.

empty.

your eyes crack open. the bedside lamp is on, dimmed to its lowest setting, and there's a folded piece of paper on your pillow where abby's head should be.

be right back. don't move.

you snort, already rolling your eyes, but you don't move.

you're too comfortable, too warm, too wrapped in the particular kind of softness that only comes from sleeping next to someone who loves you.

so you wait. five minutes. ten.

you're about to get up and find her yourself when you hear it. the careful creak of footsteps on the stairs, the muffled curse when someone stubs their toe on the third step from the top.

the door nudges open.

abby appears, balancing a tray that's frankly too large for her to be carrying one-handed, but she's stubborn and she's proud and she's wearing that soft smile that makes your stomach do something embarrassing even after all this time.

"good morning, birthday girl."

your voice comes out scratchy, sleep-warm. "you made me breakfast."

"i made you everything." she sets the tray down across your lap, and your eyes go wide.

there's a stack of pancakes so tall it's almost architectural, drizzled with honey and scattered with fresh berries.

a small vase with a single rose she must've cut from the garden.

a mug of coffee, made exactly the way you like it—she knows, because she's been paying attention for three years now. and tucked under the edge of the plate, another note.

"what's this?"

"read it later." she's already climbing into bed beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. "eat first. you're gonna need your energy."

you raise an eyebrow. "that's ominous."

"that's a promise."

the day unfolds like something out of a movie you didn't know you were starring in.

there are notes everywhere. tucked into the pocket of your jeans when you get dressed.

taped to the bathroom mirror. slipped under your phone case so you find it when you check your messages.

each one is handwritten in abby's careful, slightly messy script, and each one makes your chest ache in a way you're not sure you'll ever get used to.

you looked beautiful this morning. i know you think you look messy when you wake up, but you don't. you look like home.

the way you laughed when i dropped the pancake batter? yeah. that's my favorite sound. don't tell anyone.

you have a little freckle behind your left ear. i noticed it the first night we spent together. i think about it more than i should.

you're standing in the kitchen, holding the third one, when abby comes up behind you and wraps her arms around your waist.

her chin hooks over your shoulder, breath warm against your neck. "you're gonna make me cry," you say, and your voice cracks a little.

"good." she kisses your shoulder. "happy tears only. that's the rule."

"since when are there rules?"

"since i decided your birthday deserves a rulebook." she spins you around, palms flat against your lower back, and presses a kiss to your forehead. "now come on. we've got places to be."

"we do?"

"we do."

she takes you to the farmer's market first, even though it's a tuesday and you both have things to do.

but abby called out of work—called out for both of you, actually, because she'd already cleared it with your boss weeks ago.

and now she's holding your hand as you wander between stalls, pointing out the good strawberries, buying you a bouquet of wildflowers from a woman who smiles and says your girlfriend has good taste.

"she does," abby agrees, and squeezes your hand.

you get lunch at the little italian place you've been wanting to try for months, the one with the red-checkered tablecloths and the old man who sings opera between courses. abby ordered ahead.

of course she did—and there's a slice of tiramisu with a single candle stuck in it when the plates get cleared.

"make a wish," she says, and her eyes are so soft, so full of light, that you almost forget to close yours.

you wish for her. you always wish for her.

the afternoon is lazy. deliberate. she takes you home and draws you a bath with the fancy salts you bought on a whim and never used.

and she sits on the bathroom floor beside the tub, reading to you from the book you left on the nightstand three weeks ago.

her voice is low and steady, and you let your eyes drift closed, let the warmth seep into your bones, let yourself be taken care of in a way you rarely allow.

when you're done, she wraps you in the fluffiest towel she could find and leads you to the bedroom, where she's laid out a set of lingerie you've never seen before.

something lacy. something expensive. something that makes your breath catch.

"abs, when did you—"

"doesn't matter." she's already behind you, fingers working the towel loose, lips brushing your bare shoulder. "you like it?"

"i love it."

"good. put it on. we've got time before sunset."

sunset is a drive out to the overlook, the one where you had your first real kiss, the one where she told you she loved you for the first time three months later.

she's got a blanket in the trunk and a cooler full of snacks and a bluetooth speaker that plays your playlist, the one she secretly added to without telling you.

you sit between her legs, back against her chest, and watch the sky bleed from gold to pink to a deep, bruised purple.

her arms are wrapped around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder, and she's humming along to a song you don't recognize.

"this is perfect," you say, and your voice is quiet, almost lost to the wind.

"you're perfect." she says it like it's fact. like there's no room for argument. "happy birthday, sweetheart."

you turn your head, catch her lips in a kiss that tastes like the salt of the ocean and the sugar of the cake she made you eat for breakfast.

she smiles into it, and you feel it in your chest, warm and bright and entirely hers.

dinner is homemade. she kicks you out of the kitchen with a kiss and a glass of wine and strict instructions not to peek, so you sit on the counter because you're a little bit bratty and you know it annoys her.

and watch her move around the stove with the kind of confidence that makes your stomach flip.

she's wearing one of your aprons. the frilly one. you bought it as a joke. she wears it better than you ever could.

"you're staring," she says, not looking up.

"you're pretty."

"i'm cooking, baby."

"same thing."

she laughs, shakes her head, and you catch the way her ears go pink. you file that away for later.

the meal is ridiculously good.

steak, medium rare, with a red wine reduction that she learned from a youtube tutorial and perfected over three practice runs you never knew about. roasted vegetables.

a side of pasta that's so good you actually moan, which makes her grin like she's just won something.

"you're a menace," you tell her, mouth full.

"i'm your menace." she reaches across the table, wipes a smudge of sauce from your lip with her thumb, and sucks it off without breaking eye contact. "save room for dessert."

dessert is not cake.

dessert is her, laid out beneath you on the bed you share, the lamp casting soft shadows across the planes of her stomach, the curve of her hips.

she's wearing nothing but the strap and a look that says i've been thinking about this all day.

"come here," she says, voice low, and you do.

she takes her time. she always does.

her hands are warm and steady as she guides you, as she finds the rhythm that makes your breath hitch, as she watches your face like it's the only thing in the world worth seeing.

"you feel so good," she murmurs, and her thumb finds your clit, circles slow and deliberate. "you gonna cum for me, bunny?"

you nod, words lost, and she smiles that soft, dangerous smile.

"go ahead. i've got you."

and she does. she always does.

after, when you're boneless and trembling and tucked against her chest, she presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"one more note."

you lift your head, blinking. "what?"

"in the nightstand. your side."

you reach over, fumble until your fingers close around a folded piece of paper. it's heavier than the others.

when you open it, something falls into your lap—a key. small, silver, unfamiliar.

the note reads: i know you've been looking at that little bookstore downtown. the one with the apartment above it. it's ours if you want it. no pressure. but i figured—if we're gonna build a life, i want to build it with you. happy birthday, pretty girl. i love you.

you look up, and abby is watching you with that nervous, hopeful expression she tries to hide.

"abs—"

"you don't have to say yes. i just—i wanted you to know that i'm serious. about us. about forever." she swallows. "you're perfect for me."

you kiss her. hard. messy. perfect.

"yes," you say against her lips. "yes, yes, yes."

she laughs, bright and relieved, and pulls you closer.

"happy birthday, sweetheart."

"best one yet."

"they're all gonna be like this from now on."

you believe her.

─── 🏹 CONFIDENTIAL ENDING MEMORANDUM: hello my angels. i hope you enjoyed. if you would like to see more like this, turn on your notifications and join the taglist. stay safe and get more gay. xoxo, the sacrificial lamb.

𝐦𝐚𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 (13/50): @iadorefineshyt @pretty-u @y1ppeeyur1 @ryuwifes @almadellie @unicornclit666 @ajs-blogz @webwand3rer @un1c0rntam3r @blackdykegirlblogger @hopefullydoingokay2 @mermaidslament @dearbaes

the fluorescent lights of piltover academy hummed like dying insects.

you fumbled with your locker combo, sweat slicking your fingers. first day. new cage.

then she materialized. blue braids, neon-bright against sterile chrome, framing a grin too wide, too sharp.

jinx. her manic eyes devoured you. "heya, cupcake," she chirped, ozone and cheap bubblegum clinging to her as she tapped your locker. tap. tap. tap. "fresh meat? looks extra sweet."

the disappearances started slow. ekko, bright-eyed from engineering club, gone tuesday. his goggles gathered dust.

whispers say: he transferred. then seraphine, vanished after choir. her pink mic-pop accessory shattered near the waste chute.

jinx was always there. perched on your chem lab table, watching shaky hands measure volatile compounds.

"careful, sweetheart," she purred, plucking the beaker away. "bad things happen to pretty things that get hurt." her shimmer purple eyes glowed in the bunsen burner light.

"gifts" appeared: ekko gone, a perfect blue hair tie on your desk.

seraphine vanished, a sharpened hextech screwdriver in your backpack, she was gutted with the same screwdriver.

a warm, sticky strawberry lollipop pressed into your palm, smelling faintly of copper.

counselor medarda offered detached concern: "poor, troubled child. trauma from zaun. be careful who you associate with." proof vanished like smoke. cameras glitched near jinx.

witnesses joined the silence. you saw her once through the grimy annex window, humming discordantly while dragging something heavy wrapped in blue tarpaulin. thump. thump. thump.

fear curdled into a cold knot. hiding in the cafeteria was useless.

she slid opposite you instantly. "missed you at break, sweetheart. where’d my little songbird fly?" her gaze dropped to your untouched sandwich.

"need me to make you something special?" you ran to the third-floor bathroom, locked in the farthest stall, forehead pressed to cold metal, breathing ragged.

the lock clicked open. blue braids swung beneath the stall divider.

jinx crouched low, peering up with that viper-tilted head. "there you are. hiding from me? naughty girl."

she vaulted the stall door silently. trapped. ozone crackled thick and sharp. "they don’t understand us," she murmured, tracing your cheekbone with a steel-cold finger. you flinched. her grin vanished. "don’t do that."

her hand shot out, fisting your hair, yanking your head back. pain exploded. tears welled. "see? you made me hurt you. your fault."

her other arm snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against her thin frame.

her frantic heartbeat hammered through her ragged tank top. the metallic tang. blood mingled with bubblegum.

"i don’t wanna hurt you. i wanna keep you. safe. mine. forever." her lips brushed your ear. "but you keep trying to fly away… gotta clip your wings, sweetheart. ground my pretty little bird."

she released your hair abruptly. you slumped gasping against the stall wall. she reached behind her back. shnk-click. 

she pulled out pow-pow, her pink, custom-built minigun. she cradled it like a toy. "this? this keeps pests away. nosy ones. ones who look at you too long." her eyes swirled with madness.

"ekko wanted to help you leave. silly boy." she patted the shotgun. "seraphine sang too loud. drowned out your voice."

the cold muzzle nudged your thigh. "be mine. really mine. stop fighting… or the noise comes back… and things get messy."

terror froze your blood. logic screamed run.

but beneath the fear, a horrifying lethargy, a sliver of relief. surrendering felt simpler.

a choked sob escaped. jinx studied you.

then she leaned down. her lips crashed onto yours. demanding, possessive, tasting artificial strawberry and something darkly organic. branding you.

she pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to yours, your terrified face reflected in her eyes.

"mine," she breathed. "all mine now, sweetheart. no more running."

outside, the bell screamed. jinx tucked pow-pow away, offered her hand, the same hand that held annihilation.

"c'mon. don't wanna be late for chem! gonna mix something spectacular! just for us." your trembling hand met hers.

her grip was iron. she pulled you out, swinging your joined hands like skipping to a playground.

stares followed, pity, fear, curiosity. past a janitor buffing a stubborn dark stain near the annex, jinx leaned close, lips brushing your earlobe.

"see that? cherry cola spill." her giggle shattered the air. "sticky mess… just like love." her fingers interlaced with yours, a promise etched in cold steel and drying blood.

no more running. just jinx. and her little sweetheart. forever.

jinx shoved you against cold metal lockers in the stale, chlorine-stinking west wing locker room.

her hands were everywhere. under your blouse, scraping ribs, gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. "knew it," she gasped between biting kisses tasting of salt and iron.

"knew you felt it too. that little shiver… when i touched the gun…" her knee pressed roughly between your thighs through your skirt.

"see? your little bird heart’s beating just for me."

her hand slid down, cupping you possessively through your clothes, making you jerk. "m’gonna take care of you, sweetheart," she rasped, nipping your pulse point.

"gonna make you forget every name except mine." fingers hooked into your waistband, yanking skirt and underwear down roughly around your knees.

cold air hit exposed skin. jinx laughed darkly, pinning you harder. "shhh… no one comes here… not after that chem snitch…"

she ground her hipbone against your bare center with bruising pressure. "just us… and how much you need this… need me…"

one hand fisted painfully in your hair, forcing your head back.

the other slid between your legs, fingers probing deep without preamble, finding slick heat. "there it is…"

jinx moaned against your neck, biting down as her fingers curled cruelly inside you. "all mine… so wet for your jinx…"

she set a ruthless rhythm, thumb pressing hard above.

every thrust blurred violation and surrender, drowning terror in the relentless pressure building low in your gut cresting.

under the hands of the girl holding a shotgun in her jacket pocket and your life in her palm.

"mine. all mine."

⠀୨୧ ⠀───⠀© 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋. all rights reserved 𓈒 please do not duplicate, repost, reupload, remix, translate, or claim my work as your own please don't take inspo without credit. do not feed my content into ai systems or generators.

“Uh…” you swallow hard. “…home.”

“Home?” Vi snorts before reaching for the bedside table and flicking on the lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow. She runs slender fingers through her reddish hair and fixes you with a tired gaze. “C’mon, sunshine, it’s like the middle of the night,” she pats the empty side of her bed.

“It’s 8:30, Vi,” you can’t help your soft giggle. “You just think it’s nighttime still because your room is so dark,”

“Alright, smartass, 8:30 then,” Vi moves to lie on her side. “Now that we both know we can tell time, can you bring your cute ass back to bed?”

You stare at Vi, biting your lip. She’s nothing short of tantalizing—long, shaggy hair falling down her back, muscles on full display and torso shamelessly bare whilst the duvet pools around her lower half. It’s all you can do to hold back from climbing back into bed with her and letting her make you see stars all over again. But that’s the very reason you need to get the hell out of here. Because Vi was too tempting.

“Vi, I just have to go, okay?” you say, deflecting Vi’s gaze as you pick yesterday’s jeans up off the floor.

"But why, though?" Vi whines as she pushes herself into a seated position. She hits you with a theatrical pout, her arms crossed over her chest. "I don’t understand why you can’t just come back to bed."

"You know why I can't,"

"Why can't you?"

"Because I shouldn't have even come here to begin with," you gripe, stepping into your jeans. "You know that."

Vi sighs heavily, frustration creeping into her voice. "Then why did you?" She asks as she watches you get dressed. "You say you shouldn't be here, but you always end up in my bed again and again.”

You hesitate, not having an immediate answer to that. "I don't know...maybe 'cause I like you??"

Vi watches your face. "You kind of have a weird way of showing it, Sunshine,"

"Can you blame me? You know you have a track record, Vi," you fidget with your hands.

Vi bristles at the mention. She knew what people said about her, what they thought about her. And yes, she'd been known to play into the role from time to time. But...there wasn't a moment that she spent with you that felt like that. Not a second of it felt inauthentic. She might even go as far as to say you were her first genuine crush in…forever. That is, if she was known to get mushy like that. Which she wasn’t.

"Well...you're one to talk," Vi finally conjures up a response. "You know you're not exactly brave for always running off like this,"

"Because I know if I don't, it'll just hurt more when you don't call me tomorrow," you snap.

Ouch.

Vi falls silent, knowing you hit the nail on the head. Knowing that she was the type to hook up with someone and then move on when the thrill faded. But she hasn't wanted to do that with you. In fact, she hasn't hooked up with anyone else since you. Hadn’t been able to stomach the thought. But she doubted you’d believe it if she told you that.

"That's not...it wouldn't..." Vi is uncharacteristically flustered, struggling to come up with a comeback.

"It would. You've done it before. That's why my friends don't trust you. Why I know I shouldn't trust you. But then, you come back around and you say the sweetest things and you...do that thing with your tongue..." your cheeks heat up and you avert your gaze again. "...and I fall into the booby trap all over again. No pun intended."

Vi watches your cheeks flush, and despite everything, she feels like her ego was being stroked. Even though she knows she shouldn't, she can't help but tease you just a bit. "You like the thing I do with my tongue, huh?"

You feel your tummy flutter pitifully at the question. "Obviously,"

Vi's smirk widens at your mumbled admission. She leans back on her elbows again, her gaze locked on you, enjoying the reaction she's pulling from you. "Well, come here, then," she pats your spot on her bed again. "I can show you a few more tongue tricks if you want,"

"God, you're not even listening to me right now, are you?" you scoff.

"I am listening. I heard every word you said, okay?" Vi retorts. "You're worried I'm going to drop you, ghost you just like I've done with...admittedly, a lot of other girls. But newsflash, baby—you're not just another girl to me. I've told you that about a million times already, but you never let it stick."

"And have you ever noticed that you always say stuff like that before we have sex, not after? So how am I ever supposed to believe it?"

Now, it’s Vi’s turn to be temporarily speechless. She immediately rolls back through every single hookup, every single time she was lucky enough to have you in her apartment, in her bed. She would say the sweetest things to get your heart racing, to get you comfortable. She thought it then to be just foreplay. Just build up. Never once getting it through her thick skull what that would mean to you.

She falters, her earlier nagging annoyance fading quickly, replaced with a pang of guilt. "I...it wasn't supposed to come off that way. I meant every word, I just..." she rakes a hand through her messy hair, letting out a deep sigh.

"I really like you, Vi," you say. "Probably more than I should, but...if this is just fun to you—“

"It's not!" Vi's reply comes out as a snap, but she softens her tone as she continues. "Damnit, Sunshine, you know I'm not good at this, but...you've gotta know how into you I am. You've never been just some girl to me. You're stubborn and feisty and unbelievably sexy, and you don't let me get away with my bullshit, and I...I like you. Fuck, Sunshine, I like you so much."

You exhale softly. "That’s really how you feel?"

"God, yes," Vi declares. "I know I have a shitty track record, okay? I know I'm not the most reliable, and I'm rough around the edges, and I'm probably all the things your friends say about me. But all I ask for is a chance. Let me show you that this can be different, that it is different, and I'll do anything to prevent losing you."

You take a tentative step toward the bed, then another. Vi watches your movement closely, and when she realizes what's happening, she ushers you closer with a gentle curl of her index finger. "C'mere, baby," she coaxes. "It's just me,"

You swallow hard, moving even closer, and once you're right at the bed's edge, Vi's hands move to your waist and gently guide you down onto the mattress. It doesn't take much for you to melt into her, letting her tug you into her lap. She buries her head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, savoring your scent. Her hands begin to wander, tracing slow, comforting circles on your back.

"You're still so tense, I can tell," Vi whispers gently against your skin.

"I just...I don't want my friends to be right about you, Vi. Please don't let them be right," you plead.

"Your friends don't know me like you do," Vi murmurs, her lips grazing over your shoulder. "They only see what's on the surface. They don't see...this." She runs her fingers through your hair, scratching softly at your scalp. You practically purr at the touch.

"...Or this..." her lips run along your jawline and then down your neck. She's hunting for the sweet spot, and it's not long until she finds it, nipping at the skin just below your ear. The soft whimper you let out is immediate.

"Let me prove them wrong, Sunshine," Vi says. "Let me prove to you that you're beautiful and special and mine,"

You sigh, letting your head fall back. Vi hums against your skin. Her hands go to your jeans—unbuttoned because you hadn’t fastened them yet—and slip inside.

“You’re so soft,” Vi whispers, her fingers tracing gently over your abdomen. Her mouth begins to move down, pressing another trail of kisses along your jawline.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and rough as she nibbles at the junction of your neck and shoulder.

You moan softly and Vi smirks at the sound. “That’s it. You’re getting excited for me, aren’t you?” Her fingers move beneath your shirt, tracing the curves of your rib cage as she kisses a path along your collarbone. She nips and sucks at the sensitive skin there, wanting to taste every inch of you. One of her hands sneaks to the clasp of your bra, toying with it.

“You like that?” She has the nerve to ask.

“Yeah…” you breathe.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Vi replies, a hint of smugness in her voice. She captures your ear lobe between her teeth for a moment, giving it a gentle bite before moving downward to your collar. “You’re making it really hard to not take you right here and now, you know,”

“So then, what are you waiting for?” You challenge, chest heaving and heart racing. “Take me,”

“You sure about that, Sunshine?” Vi husks, her body already pressing closer, already subtly grinding against you and letting her neediness show. “Because once I start, I don’t think I could stop,”

“I wouldn’t tell you to,” you whisper in Vi’s ear, your hands trailing down the other girl’s defined muscles.

That’s all Vi needs to hear. “You’ll be the death of me,” she breathes. And then, she’s pushing you back into the mattress, pinning you down, her expression a combination of need and lust.

Every time before where Vi’s made you needy pails in comparison to how you feel now as you lift your hips so she can help you out of those pesky jeans a second time.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” Vi muses once you’re lying mostly bare for her again.

You look up at Vi, smitten. And you have just enough time to breathe her name before she’s kissing you hard, working the kisses down your neck and chest. She sucks at the delicate skin, leaving marks where she sees fit.

“You taste so good,” she says when she reaches your stomach, her tongue darting out to tease your navel. “I could devour you whole.”

You gasp, hips bucking. “Fuck! That’s the tongue thing I was talking about!”

A low chuckle rumbles in Vi’s chest. “So, you like it when I use it like this, huh?” She sucks at the skin just above the waistband of your panties, her tongue tracing a slow, languid path. “…like it when I taste you?”

“…yes, yes, yes!” you moan.

Vi grins against your heated skin, her fingers hooking into the elastic of your panties. “Say it again. Tell me how much you like it.” She starts to drag the underwear down your hips at an agonizing pace, watching every single expression pass across your face. “Say my name, baby. Tell me what you want right now.”

“Vi, oh Vi…” you feel your back arch even though Vi’s barely starting touching you. “Please…taste me…”

Vi pushes herself down, burying her face between your thighs, inhaling the heady, tantalizing scent of your arousal. “Like this…?” she murmurs, her tongue darting out for a taste. “You want me to taste you, baby? Want me to make you squirm? Want to call out my name?”

You can’t answer any of Vi’s questions. Not when Vi’s face is between your legs, her tongue sliding in and out of you at dizzying intervals.

The sight of you lost in the pleasure she’s giving you, is all the answer Vi needs. It drives her wild, makes her want to take you higher and higher. Her tongue moves faster, harder, tasting and teasing and pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your eyes begin to roll as you rock your hips against Vi’s mouth, moaning her name in the process. You’ve reached the point where you’re grabbing onto everything within reach—Vi’s hair, Vi’s arms, the bedsheets beside you—desperately trying to anchor yourself to the present moment.

And then, Vi was flicking her tongue just right against your clit, and you’re done for. Body shuddering and fireworks bursting in your brain, you’re wracked with the most intense release you’ve ever felt. And Vi doesn’t relent immediately, eating until she felt every spasm and shudder cede your body.

“That’s it,” Vi gasps, coming up for air with a ragged breath. “You’re so good for me, Sunshine, you’re a fucking vision,”

She lets you catch your breath, her hand tracing lazy circles on your hip. She studies your face, the flush of pleasure and satisfaction clear on your features.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Vi whispers softly. “All flushed and satisfied…because of me. I love getting to do this for you. I love…” Vi’s eyes trail down your body, her own body buzzing with barely-contained desire.

You take Vi in, in all her glory—her mouth wet and her pupils dilated. You know in that moment that you don’t want the fun to stop. So you promptly grab Vi’s face and kiss her hard.

“Mmm…someone wants more,” Vi mumbles against your lips.

“Tell me,” you breathe. “Tell me you want me. Tell me you wanna give me everything,”

“Baby, I’ve never wanted someone so badly in my entire life. I wanna give you everything. Wanna make you forget your name,” Vi growls against your skin.

“Fuck, Vi,” you breathe, climbing on top, straddling her hips. Vi’s own hips immediately buck up, seeking friction against yours.

“Ride me, baby,” she pants, by now, her voice is thick with need. “Show me what you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Vi repeats. Her hands slide up your thighs to your hips, gripping tightly, guiding your movements. “I wanna feel you, baby. Wanna watch you take what you need from me,”

Well you didn’t need any further direction, wrists draping over Vi’s well-defined shoulders as your hips start a sensual grind against hers.

Vi’s head immediately falls back from the friction. “God…” she breathes. You take advantage of the beautiful skin provided to you, peppering kisses along Vi’s throat as you writhe on top of her. She groans in response, fingers digging deeper into your hips, her body snapping up to meet every thrust. “…you feel so good,”

You bite your lip to conceal a moan as you rock forward, then back, then forward again, chasing that delicious friction. And Vi guides you through every movement, murmuring profanities into your skin.

She knows when you’re close, feels your walls clench around her, and she’s devious in bringing you there—letting her hand slide between your two bodies, fingers curling right where you need her, and catapulting you into that white-hot release.

You slow to a stop as the room comes back into focus around you, uttering soft “oh gods” against Vi’s neck while she holds you through it.

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you,” she whispers, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “You were so good for me. So damn good.”

You try to speak, but your breath still hasn’t returned to you, and the best you can do is incoherent mumbles, which make Vi chuckle. “Yeah? Tell me about it,” she teases, which makes you giggle.

A comfortable hush falls over the two of you then as Vi holds you. The space that you occupy feels different. Rather than feeling ready to sneak out after your tryst, to return to your life and forget about Vi, it feels right letting her hold you. Letting her breath tickle the crown of your head.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Vi says, “Not thinking about fleeing, are you?” whilst scratching her hands up and down your back.

You shake your head. “Legs wouldn’t get me there anyway,” you quip.

Vi chuckles. “Yeah, I did do a number, didn’t I?” and then softer, she adds, “I’m glad you’re staying, Sunshine,”

Arguments with Sevika were rare.

Not because the two of you never disagreed.

You were both stubborn enough that disagreements happened all the time.

The difference was that most of them never turned into real fights.

Most of the time, one of you would crack a joke. Or Sevika would pull you into her lap until neither of you could remember what you were annoyed about in the first place.

Tonight was different.

The argument had started small.

Something insignificant.

Something that should have stayed insignificant.

Instead, frustration piled onto frustration until the two of you were standing in the middle of the living room, voices raised and tempers frayed.

You couldn’t even remember who had started it.

Only that neither of you seemed willing to back down.

“You always do this!” you snapped.

Sevika’s jaw clenched.

“I do what?”

“You shut down.”

Her shoulders immediately went rigid.

The look on her face made your stomach sink.

Because you’d hit the exact thing she hated talking about.

“When things get difficult, you just stop talking to me.”

Sevika looked away.

“You think I don’t notice?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Anything.”

The silence that followed felt deafening.

You watched her retreat into herself right in front of you.

Her expression closed off.

Walls snapping into place.

The same walls she’d spent years building before she’d ever met you.

“Sevika-“

“No.”

She grabbed her jacket.

Your heart dropped.

“Baby, don’t. Please.”

“I’m going out.”

“Seriously?”

“I need space.”

The words landed like a punch.

Before you could say anything else, she was already heading for the door.

The apartment rattled from how hard it shut behind her.

And then she was gone.

-

The silence afterward was awful.

You tried reading.

You couldn’t focus.

You tried watching television.

You couldn’t follow the plot.

Eventually you ended up curled on the couch, staring at absolutely nothing while your thoughts ran in circles.

The anger had disappeared hours ago.

Now all that remained was the ache.

The empty space beside you.

The memory of the look on Sevika’s face before she’d left.

You knew she didn’t walk away because she didn’t care.

If anything, it was the opposite.

Sevika cared so much that sometimes emotions overwhelmed her completely.

She never knew what to do with them.

So she ran.

Not from you.

From the feeling itself.

Still.

It hurt.

The clock ticked past midnight.

Then one.

Then nearly two.

You were half asleep when you finally heard the front door unlock.

Your head immediately lifted.

The door opened.

And there stood Sevika.

One look at her and your eyebrows shot up.

“Oh.”

Sevika blinked.

Then smiled.

A slow, slightly crooked smile.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

She was drunk.

Clearly so, in the way her usual control had softened at the edges and her movements carried a looser, unfocused ease.

The kind of drunk that made her usually guarded expression melt into something gentle and affectionate.

The kind that made her look at you like you personally hung every star in the sky.

You stared.

She stared back.

Then her face crumpled slightly.

“Oh no.”

“What?”

Her eyes immediately turned guilty.

“You look sad.”

Your irritation returned for approximately three seconds.

“You disappeared for hours.”

“Oh.”

She looked genuinely devastated by this information.

“Right.”

You folded your arms.

Sevika kicked off her boots.

Then walked directly toward you.

Not with her usual confidence.

A little unsteady.

A little sleepy.

But very determined.

Before you could stop her, she dropped onto her knees in front of the couch.

“Sevika.”

She wrapped both arms around your waist.

Immediately.

Like she physically needed to.

“Hi.”

Your expression cracked despite yourself.

“Hi.”

Her cheek pressed against your stomach.

Warm.

Comforting.

Familiar.

For several seconds she didn’t say anything.

Just held you.

Then she mumbled,

“I missed you.”

Your chest tightened.

“Sevika…”

“I’m sorry.”

The words came out instantly.

She didn’t hesitate or pull away. Nothing guarded her words or her expression. Just raw honesty, unfiltered and open.

She squeezed you tighter.

“So sorry, baby.”

You looked down at her.

Her eyes were glassy.

From the alcohol or tears, you couldn’t tell.

But the emotion underneath was completely real and unmistakable.

“I shouldn’t have left like that.”

You softened.

Sevika buried her face against you.

“I hate fighting with you.”

Her voice came out muffled.

“You know that?”

You threaded your fingers through her hair.

Immediately, she leaned into the touch.

Like a cat finding sunlight.

“I know.”

“No, babe.”

She looked up.

“I really hate it.”

Something vulnerable flickered across her face.

“I spend the whole time feeling sick.”

Her gaze dropped.

“Because you’re the person I love most, darling… I hate knowing I’ve hurt you.”

Your heart squeezed.

Sevika rarely admitted things like this.

Rarely let anyone see beneath the armour.

But right now there wasn’t a single wall left standing.

Just your wife.

Looking at you with complete adoration.

“I don’t like when you’re upset with me.”

You smiled sadly, pushing her unkempt hair back from her face.

“I wasn’t exactly thrilled with you either.”

“Fair.”

The word came out immediately.

Then she frowned.

“You were right, though.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“I shut down.”

The confession sounded difficult even now.

“I know I do.”

Her thumb brushed absent-mindedly against your side.

“When I get overwhelmed, I don’t know what to say.”

She looked down.

“I always think if I talk I’ll make it worse.”

The guilt in her voice made your chest ache.

“So I stop talking.”

A pause.

“Which somehow also makes it worse.”

You huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah. It does.”

“Thought so.”

You ran your fingers through her hair again.

Slowly.

Watching her eyes practically close from the affection.

The sight was ridiculous.

The terrifying woman everyone feared in Zaun completely melting because her wife was playing with her hair.

“You know,” you said softly, “you can tell me when you’re overwhelmed.”

Sevika nodded immediately.

“I know.”

“Instead of disappearing.”

“Yeah.”

“Instead of making me worry.”

She nodded.

A pause followed.

Then:

“Can you keep doing that?”

She instinctively leaned into your touch, her eyes drifting half-shut as your fingers threaded gently through her hair.

“Even while I’m being scolded?”

You laughed.

Actually laughed.

And the relief on Sevika’s face was immediate.

Like she’d been waiting all night to hear it.

“That’s my baby girl.”

“Yeah I am,” Sevika mumbles confidently.

You laughed harder, unable to hide how adorable she looked right now.

Sevika tiled her head in confusion.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

Then climbed onto the couch beside you.

The second she sat down, she pulled you directly into her lap.

No discussion.

No warning.

Just scooped you up like you belonged there.

Which, admittedly, you did.

Her arms wrapped around your waist.

Her chin settled on your shoulder.

“You know I love you, right?”

The question came quietly.

Almost hesitant.

You turned your head slightly.

“Of course I do.”

Sevika shook her head.

“No.”

She pressed a kiss against your cheek.

“Like.”

Kiss.

“Really.”

Kiss.

“Really.”

Kiss.

“Love you.”

You couldn’t stop smiling.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m correct.”

Her arms tightened.

“You are my favourite person.”

A kiss against your temple.

“My favourite place.”

Another against your jaw.

“My favourite everything.”

Your face grew warm.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

She sounded deeply offended you’d even question it.

“I’d pick you every time.”

Your chest felt impossibly full.

Sevika tucked her face into your neck.

Holding you so carefully.

Like you were something precious.

Irreplaceable.

“I don’t say it enough.”

You felt her breathe out against your skin.

“But I love being married to you.”

The confession settled softly between you.

“I love waking up next to you.”

A kiss.

“I love hearing you talk.”

Another.

“I love when you steal my shirts.”

Another.

“I love when you fall asleep on me.”

You laughed.

“I do that constantly.”

“I know.”

She sounded delighted.

“It’s great.”

You turned in her arms enough to cup her cheek.

Her eyes immediately softened.

The look she gave you made it obvious.

Sevika adored you.

Completely.

With every stubborn, protective, devoted piece of her heart.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered.

Her expression melted.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

The pet name sounded so gentle it almost hurt.

She leaned forward until your foreheads touched.

“You don’t have to apologise for being upset.”

Her hand found yours.

Intertwining your fingers.

“I just wish I’d handled it better.”

You brushed your thumb across her cheek.

“We both could’ve.”

“Maybe.”

She smiled.

Then pressed a lingering kiss to your lips.

Slow.

Warm.

Unhurried.

When she pulled back, she immediately rested her forehead against yours again.

Like she couldn’t bear putting even an inch of distance between you.

The apartment was quiet now.

No anger.

No tension.

Just the weight of Sevika’s arms around you.

The steady rhythm of her breathing.

The occasional sleepy kiss she kept pressing against your face every few minutes because apparently she couldn’t help herself.

Eventually, you felt her beginning to drift.

Her grip never loosened.

Even half asleep, she held you close.

Murmuring another soft, drowsy,

“I love you, my sweet girl.”

Into your hair.

The words were slurred slightly.

Sincere nonetheless.

And as you settled more comfortably against her chest, listening to her heartbeat beneath your ear, you couldn’t help smiling.

Because no matter how ugly the argument had been, no matter how badly it had hurt in the moment, one thing had never changed.

You were Sevika’s favourite thing in the world.

- daddy!vi is a literature professor and mommy!caits a private investigator. your first meeting was not an accident. (stay tuned...)

- they take their roles as mommy and daddy very seriously. they pay for school, take you shopping whenever, trips out illonia and noxus and anywhere else you want to go (though noxus trips are very low profile. very low.)

- you have rules to follow and they let that be known that when you break those rules there will be consequences. not financial ones, never that, theyll still buy you all the pretty things and take you to all the places, but how comfortably you're able to sit with your rewards are entirely up to you.

- well, not always entirely. they really like making you cry. a common example is them telling you you aren't allowed to cum then making you cum anyways just so they can spank your cunt :((

- they also wont let you cum for days (maybe even weeks, they've thought about it but can't commit, unable to keep their hands off of you for long.) just to see your pretty eyes well up with tears when they finally do; they'll spank you raw if they find out you thouching their cunt without permission too :(

- dont get it twisted though, they'll still touch you, but the second your hips start grinding and your whines start getting needier, they pull away until theyre sure they can continue without making you lose complete control. sometimes they'll do whole scenes focused on you and your pretty pussy only to leave you a sweaty quivering mess at the end.

- if theyre feeling extra mean, though, theyll let you cum, but theyll ruin orgasm after orgasm, pulling away at just the right moment and pushing your knees into your chest to watch your cute little pussy spasm and twitch, desperately chasing climax :( but once you're calm again they get back to it.

cait lying between your legs, her tongue thrusting in and out of your pussy while vi's sat behind you cushioned by the pillows. your back is to her chest with your legs hooked over her meaty thighs and her big fingers are rubbing gentle circles over your swollen little clit.

"go 'head baby," vi purrs in your ear. she can feel you resisting. she starts rubbing you faster, then harder, smiling cruelly when you begin to arch into her touch. "cum for mommy 'n daddy."

neither of the older women can but mock your moans and cries as you finally break, and daddys' hand os retreating from your pussy at the same time mommys' tongue leaves you tragically empty, no longer swirling and thrusting into your quivering hole.

you sob at the betrayal of it all. five ruined orgasms tonight.

daddy hooks her big hands under your shaking thighs, spreading you completely open to the both of them. her chin sits in your shoulder, shushing and cooing softly in your ear as you twitch, fat tears rolling down your cheeks

cait grins as she pushes up onto her knees, her lower face is still covered in juices, but neither of them seem to care as her and vi quickly getting lost in a deep, sloppy kiss over your shoulder, moaning over the shared taste of your sweet, syrupy cunt.

she pulls away from vi's kiss bitten lips, humming and glancing down at your soaked pussy.

"well if you can be such a good girl now, surely you'd have no with another?" she asks, but you know theres no option as she slides three of her long, lithe fingers into your swollen cunt. the three of you sigh in unison and you're damn near drooling despite your tears. your cunt elicits a pathetic, disgustingly wet squelch with every thrust of her fingers.

you know it'll bring you no relief in the end, but you can't help but grind in rythm with the slow, agonizing thrusts of her fingers, sinking deep into that headspace to deny them or even try close your legs anymore; letting them do as they please with your pliant body.

- it does'nt help that mommy!cait has a horrible oral fixation. with vi willing to hold you down and open you open so that cait can satisfy her oral fixation; you might as well lie down and spread your legs. like, daddy WILL full nelson you, arms locked around your shoulders and knees, just so mommy can suck on and play with your clit with her tonghe for a bit without you squirming around

- also: daddy!vi loves to watch you and mommy eat pussy, whether that be eachother or her own.

you're lying on her chest, face tucked into her neck with cait behind you, spreading you open and sucking on your spit soaked cunt like its the first time and last time -eager and haughty- while your body cant decide whether ot wants to chase the pleasure or run away.

"fuck- your pussy's so noisy, girl." vi teases from her place beneath you. she grips your ass cheeks, her hold bruising and painful as she spreads your cheeks even further "could listen to that all day."

- daddy!vi is fully aware of how strong her thighs are, and she has no problem with her partners appreciating this about her, but she's convinced that one day shes gonna have to beat you and caitlyn off with an actual stick the way you'd rather have your heads between her thighs than anywhere else.

- mommy!cait is harsher with punishments but daddy!vi is makes (most) of the rules. dont get me wrong vi's still smacking that ass if you misbehave but cait's a whole other level. she'll spank your thighs, ass, cunt, tits, whatever she feels like tbh

running your mouth? daddy'll put on her biggest strap and cait will have you suck until your throats raw, and once thats too much? you still have pussy AND ass. they spend hours stretching you open just to prove a point

vi's not any more innocent though, happy to indulge in cait's punishments if it means she gets to see you taking her biggest dick as deep as you can.

out way past late when they told you to be home in time for dinner? they feed you, give you a nice massage, dote and love on you the same way they will when theyre done wrecking your body, but the trouble starts the second you're all finally in bed.

vi lays at your side, her head propped on her hand, the other between your splayed legs, one of them resting atop hers. she's spreading the lips of your pussy almost uncomfortably wide.

not nearly as uncomfortable as the quick harsh slaps that mommy delivers to your engorged clit, though.

they both notice how hard and swollen your clit is, how every smack get wetter and wetter.

"please- pleasepleaseplease lemme- i can't-," your voice breaks off into another wail. your toes curl painfully and your eyes roll damn near to the back of your skull when vi brings her fingers together, trapping your poor clit between the thick, callused appendages.

"quiet. or you don't cum tonight." mommy says sharply, slapping daddys hand away from squeezing your clit between her fingers. then she huffs pointedly at vi "and you move, im not finished."

vi retreats with a soft offended sound, hand coming up to squeeze and pinch at your soft tits instead.

you're quiet. even when you beg, as you cry about how sore and abused your pussy feels, they know that you wouldn't want to be anywhere else in this current moment, especially with the promise of an orgasm.

cait crawls up your other side, her hand sliding down your shaking body to your tender cunt. her finger taps your clit as she pauses to think for a moment, and your hips jerk with every taptaptap on the slick pearl.

"you have five more," she begins, her tapping stoping all together, her hand now resting casually on your sticky mound. she leans in close, her cheek brushing yours before she kisses your cheek sweetly. a heavy contrast to her previous actions. "and if i hear anything other than your counting, followed by 'im sorry, mommy. im sorry, daddy', then we'll start over."

you nod eagerly, chasing her lips when she pulls away to get a better look at your face.

"good," she sighs dreamily, sitting up on her haunches at your side but leaning down to brush her lips against your raised knee. "safeword?"

"peacock." you whisper, nodding but not able to help the laugh you let out at the memory behind the word. the married women are quick to follow in your little bout of giggles, already knowing.

you're cut short when caits hand slithers back beween your legs from her position, looking you in the eye as she spreads your wetness over your pussy with her whole hand.

she does this for a while, rubbing your pussy up and down with the entirety of her hand, constantly stimulating your already sore clit. until your head lulls back into the pillows behind you and your moaning softly.

until you've seeminly forgotten that she was punishing you.

that's when she strikes, her palm coming down on your soaked pussy in one swift motion. your head shoots up off the bed at the sudden sting, a sharp gasp interrupting your blissridden noises.

your hands shoots out instinctively to cover your pussy, but daddy's quicker, gripping both of your wrists and bringing them back up to your chest.

"you know better, pretty. you'll only make this worse for yourself." she tuts quietly, pressing her lips into the shell of your ear, she asks more harshly, "now, what do you say?"

"one," you say, almost breathless from the shock as you blink the tears in your eyes away. "i'm sorry mommy, i'm sorry daddy."

mommy's hand comes down on your pussy almost immediately after you finish your apologiesand they both smile, dangerous and predatory when you choke on a sob and your hips jerk forward, chasing the pain.

- on your first real date with the women they'd taken you to a nature sanctuary, and one of the peacocks had chased the taller woman around for minutes while staff (and vi, naturally) tried to drive the large bird away from her without hurting it. before that you all had used the stoplight system when together.

- daddy!vi who chokes you whilst she fucks you. one big rough hand around your throat and the other pressed harshly into your belly to keep you pinned to the bed, deep, hard strokes in and out of your wet pussy. the only sounds in the room being your pathetic whimpers, her thighs smacking yours and the tell tale sign that daddys about to cum.

or

god- shes fucking into you from behind, bending over you

she knows. she knows she should feel like a dirty old pervert, lusting after the pretty young thing thats somehow become a deciding factor in their lives.

her and her wife, and a young woman who'd wiggled her way into their hearts and the home.

mommy and daddy and their sweet girl :(

but she can't, not when you're clenching on her so hard she can hardly drag her dick out, even with the shameful amount of juices you're leaking onto it.

daddy has her tells as well, eyes half lidded as she tries to hold back what are probably the quietest whimpers from any human ever, her hips faltering when the harness drags againat her clit perfectly. she cums hard, grinding into you roughly as she spills into her boxers.

- mommy!cait who loves when daddy!vi gets subby and pliant too<3

sometimes - she'll have the two of you play with eachothers pussies.

just made to lay on your back with your legs spread, and let daddy touch and rub on your cunt while you do the same to her. those are the times where mommy just likes to watch.

other times, though, she's very much an active participant, instructing you on how to shove daddys' face into your pussy by her hair as she slides the pink haired woman from behind.

it's the perfect view, honestly. vi's fat ass in the air, recoiling and jiggling with every harsh thrust of mommy's hips. her face flushes red with embarassment, almost rivaling her hair for pigment when mommy spanks her ass hard. her ass-cheeks are just about the same, if not worse- the skin red and angry and hotter than hell to touch.

mommy isn't any more put together with her untamed, dark hair sticking to her forehead, dripping sweat. her skin sparkling in the light and her shiny, milky tits bouncing in time with her mean thrusts.

the worst part?

she's about as deep in it as you and daddy are, eyes hazy with lust and adoration as she watches her munch on your cunt, big, muscled back flexing as wrestles with your quivering legs. it's like she's fucking you through vi, and the closer daddy gets to her orgasm the closer you do.

by the time you and vi cum her clits aching so bad she almost says fuck it and makes herself cum using vi's sloppy cunt, rutting her big strap inside the tired woman until she finishes inside the harness.

she waits til the shower instead, pushing you both to your knees on the tile floor so you can pleasure her.

you eat her pussy eagerly, hands massaging her thighs softly in contrast. and vi had somehow ended up kneeling behind her, lifting one of her long legs in the air with her face shoved between her asscheeks.

mommy cait suffers orgasm after orgasm that night, as everytime she opens her mouth to tell the both of you she can't take another she falters. your pouts leave her defenseless, even as you finish up the shower she can't escape as vi holds her legs open and teaches you how to eat her ass properly.

she wakes up with her thighs resting on your shoulders and and vi's mouth on her nipple, the both of you knocked out cold.

mommy and daddy aren't as young as they used to be, though, and professional massages are booked the next day as a result of this.

“Yeah,” a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “S’cool.”

“You nervous?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Please. I’ve survived prison fights.”

The words come easily, the same way they always do whenever she’s trying to brush something off. But you don’t look convinced, not even for one second. Vi fights the urge to fidget under your gaze, really hoping you’ll let it go before you manage to see through her.

The thing is, she is nervous, and she feels ridiculous about it. She’s fought people twice her size, faced down armed enforcers, survived years she never should have survived at all. A crowder parade shouldn’t make her stomach twist itself into knots. Yet, she can’t shake the strange feeling sitting heavy in her chest.

Her eyes drift back to the crowd. To the women holding hands without hesitation, the couples wrapped in pride flags, the older woman laughing just as her wife pulls her into a dance in the middle of the street.

The sight makes her chest ache in a way she doesn’t understand. Not because they’re together or because they look head over heels in love, but because they’re older. Grey hairs, smile lines, years written across their faces.

For so long, Vi had never allowed herself to think that far ahead— life had taught her not to. She’d worried about tomorrow when tomorrow arrived. Anything beyond that felt dangerous, like tempting fate. So, she got used to focus on the next day, the next fight, the next problem around the corner. Thinking about the future had always felt like a luxury meant for somebody else.

But all around her are people who look like they’ve made it. People who found someone and got to keep them to build a life together. The realization settles beneath her ribs, because for the first time, she finds herself wondering what growing old with someone would be like, to stop surviving long enough to actually live.

Before she can dwell on it for too long, you reach for her hand.

“Hey,” your voice is gentler now, thumb brushing against her knuckles. She didn’t even notice how tightly she was clenching her fist. “You okay?”

Vi glances down and stares at your joined hands for a moment. She allows herself to just enjoy the warmth of your fingers wrapped around hers.

She squeezes your hand back. “I’m okay.”

You take a small step closer, your free hand rummaging through bag. A few seconds later, you pull your hand back out, something wrapped around your fingers.

“Here.”

Your fingers brush against her skin as you carefully fasten a bracelet around her wrist. Small beads in shades of orange, white and pink catch the sunlight when you pull back. There’s a tiny charm hanging from it, and Vi lifts her hand to inspect it more closely. Her heart skips a bit as she takes a good look at it— it’s your initial.

“I made ‘em last night,” a shy smile spreads across your face as you lift your own hand. “We’re matching.”

An identical bracelet sits there, except for the small golden V dangling from it.

The matching bands aren’t even fancy, the beads aren’t perfectly aligned, hell— one of them even looks slightly crooked. And somehow, that only makes it better, because you made it for her.

Warmth settles in her chest, pushing against the strange ache that had been living there since you arrived at the parade. Her thumb brushed over the tiny charm, your initial, and a grin spreads across her face before she can stop it.

“It’s the prettiest bracelet I’ve ever owned,” she starts, and there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes when she looks back at you again. “Pretty cheesy, though.”

Your jaw drops. “Cheesy?”

“Very.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” you point accusingly at her wrist. “Take it off then.”

Vi immediately wraps her hand around the bracelet, taking a small step back as she looks at you with an offended expression.

“I’m never taking it off.”

The grin that spreads across your face is impossible to miss.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of color, music, and laughter.

You drag her from booth to booth, stopping to admire handmade crafts, sample food from street vendors, and buy enough stickers to cover an entire wall. At some point, a volunteer paints a tiny rainbow on Vi’s cheek. She pretends to hate it, but the dozen photos she let you take of her suggest otherwise.

The parade is louder than she expected. Cheers erupt from every corner of the street, music spills from passing floats, strangers dance together as if they’ve known each other their whole lives. Normally, crowds like this would put her on edge and she’d be scanning every exit, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It’s in those overwhelming moments when her fingers drift to the bracelet wrapped around her wrist. Her thumb brushes over your initial in a small, absentminded gesture. Every time she touches it, the warmth in her chest returns.

For the first time in a long time, Vi finds herself enjoying the moment without worrying about what might go wrong or wondering when it will end. She laughs when you pull her into a dance she swears she doesn’t know, steals bites from your food when you aren’t looking, and lets you take picture after picture, even when she complains about every single one.

And every time she catches the sight of the grin on your face, she finds herself smiling right back.

By the time the sun begins to sink lower in the sky, painting the streets gold, the crowds have started to thin. You walk side by side, your hands brushing occasionally as you make your way away from the parade route.

The day settles comfortably between you with that kind of silence that only exists when you’re with the right person. Vi’s thumb catches on the bracelet again, and you notice. A soft smile takes over your lips as you bump against her shoulder lightly.

“You’ve been playing with that thing all day.”

“It’s my favorite thing in the world,” Vi glances down at the bracelet, smiling with such tenderness it makes your heart ache.

You chuckle at her statement, and the sound makes her heart skip a bit. She looks over her shoulder, watching the last of the festival-goers pass by. The families, the friends, the couples…

She exhales quietly. “I think I get it now.”

You glance at her, eyes slightly furrowed with confusion.

“Get what?”

Vi hesitates because she’s not used to being vulnerable out loud. At least, not in the middle of the street. But she looks back once again, toward the flags still waving in the distance and the people who had spent the entire day celebrating who they were without apology.

A lump forms unexpectedly in her throat.

“Pride.”

Your expression softens, fingers curling around hers as you listen intently.

“I always thought it was just…” She gestures vaguely. “Y’know, music, big party, lots of hot people on the street.”

“And now?” you prompt, eyes never leaving her face.

Vi swallows as she tries to turn her overwhelming train of thought into a coherent sentence. Now she thinks about the older couple dancing in the street, about the countless hands she’d seen intertwined throughout the day, about the future, about belonging… about you.

“Now I see is people getting to be happy,” her grip on your hand tightens softly. “People getting to love who they love and not have to hide it.”

She pauses for a second. Then, a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“And maybe it is about realizing there’s a place for us, too.”

Your eyes fill with so much affection it nearly knocks the breath from her lungs. Before she can mutter anything else, you step closer. Close enough that she can catch the faint scent of sunscreen lingering on your skin, mixed with whatever sweet drink you’d been carrying around all afternoon.

Your hand rises to her cheek, and the rest of the world begins to blur. The tiny rainbow has started to fade, but she still feels your thumb brush across it.

You lean in, your lips finding hers with such tenderness it makes her knees weak. The kiss is slow enough for Vi to feel every part of it— the warmth of your mouth, the way your fingers curl against her jaw, the quiet sigh you let out when she leans back into you.

All day she’d been watching people celebrate love without fear, and now she finally gets it. She’s certain that she doesn’t have to earn her place beside you, she doesn’t have to fight for it, she’s allowed to be loved.

You pull back first, only far enough to rest your forehead against hers. Her hands find your automatically, fingers intertwining as the bracelets on your wrist shift with the movement.

Vi opens her eyes and finds you smiling at her, a smile so full of love it makes her chest ache all over again.

“I love you,” you whisper, thumb tracing over her cheek.

The lump returns to her throat, but she doesn’t try to swallow it down now. Instead, she squeezes your hand.

“I love you,” and she means it.

For the first time, the future doesn’t feel frightening. It feels worth looking forward to.

“…you’re a big sap.”

Vi groans immediately, hands grabbing your waist as she lets her head drop backwards. “Oh, c’mon.”

“You got emotional and it almost made me cry,” you grin, pulling her closer. When she glances back at you, she notices your teary eyes.

“I did not get emotional.”

“You should totally do next year’s Pride speech.”

Her face immediately drains of color. “There’s no fucking way.”

You laugh, the sound bright and carefree as you begin pulling her down the street.

“Please! You’d be great.”

“No.”

“You could talk about belonging.”

“No.”

“The future? Or at least give the girls some lesbian sex tips?”

Vi nearly trips over her own feet. “Okay, that’s enough.”

Your laughter only grows louder. She rolls her eyes, but smiles despite herself and lets you guide her down the street. Vi’s fingers brush against the bracelet wrapped around her wrist one last time, your initial catching against her thumb. It’s a small, simple detail, yet it somehow feels like everything.

Maybe Pride is about celebration. Maybe it’s about community. Or maybe it’s about love. But as she looks at you, chuckling beside her with your matching bracelet glinting in the sunlight, Vi thinks it’s also about finding your people, about finding your place.

. ݁₊ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

On a typical day, you wake up to the sound of a punching bag being thoroughly pummeled. 

You’re used to it by now, the familiar sound of Vi boxing in the garage while her morning pump-up mix plays from the cheap sound system in there. The two of you have a well-established routine, Vi with her morning workout, you with your coffee and a book. It’s predictable. Comforting, even. 

So that’s why you’re so surprised to wake up this morning and find Vi still fast asleep next to you. 

You blink a few times to clear your vision, then a smile takes over your face. It may be unusual, but you love slow mornings with Vi on the rare occasions she decides to sleep in. She’s sleeping on her stomach with her pink hair strewn messily across her pillow, her face relaxed and her freckles showing in the morning light. You take a few moments to just look at her, admiring the woman you get to call your girlfriend. She’s all muscle and grit when she’s in the ring, but here in bed with you, she’s soft and sweet and all yours. It makes your heart swell with fondness. 

After yawning and stretching, you decide to get up and head to the kitchen. You’ll bring Vi breakfast in bed for a change, instead of her doting on you. 

By the time you return to the bedroom carrying a tray with toast, fruit, and scrambled eggs, Vi has woken up and propped herself up against the pillows. You can’t help noticing she looks particularly bleary this morning, as if she’s had a hard time waking up. Her training schedule has been intense lately as she prepares for an upcoming match, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you smile softly, setting down the tray on the end of the bed and climbing in next to Vi. You wrap your arms around her middle and cuddle up to her with your cheek pressed to her shoulder. “Brought you breakfast.” 

“Thanks, baby,” Vi says, her voice still rough with sleep. She coughs to clear her throat, then grabs a tissue and blows her nose, sounding congested. 

You lift your head, frowning at her. There’s definitely a pink tinge to her nose, and your eyes drift toward the pile of used tissues that have already accumulated on her nightstand. 

“You feeling okay, babe?” you ask gently, sitting up so that you can get a better look at her. “You sound all stuffy.” 

“Fine,” Vi replies, as you knew she would. She kisses you on the cheek before grabbing a slice of toast and swinging her legs out of bed. “Got to start training, I’m behind. Thanks for breakfast, princess.” 

Her tone is nonchalant as she wolfs down a piece of toast, heading toward the ensuite, but you can’t help the twinge of concern in your stomach. You know your girlfriend well enough by now to recognize the signs that she’s getting sick. 

But getting Vi to actually admit it? That’s a whole other problem entirely. 

. ݁₊ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You try not to worry about Vi too much as you go about your day, but it’s hard. Your girlfriend’s tenacity is one of the qualities you love most about her, but you’re also well aware of how it can lead to Vi pushing her limits far further than she should. Particularly when she’s got an important goal on her mind that she’ll do anything to reach, like the upcoming fight. 

You get about halfway through your morning working at home before you decide to check on her. You’ve been working in the office and you haven’t seen your girlfriend at all, probably because she’s still training out in the garage. She usually does a morning workout at home, eats lunch with you, then heads to the boxing gym to train with her coach. 

Swinging by the kitchen to grab a glass of water and a protein bar in case Vi is hungry, you make your way out to the attached garage. As you expected, Vi is working out at her uppercut bag, her motions smooth and rhythmic. 

But as you get closer, your chest tightens with concern. Under the sheen of sweat, Vi is unusually pale and her eyes look glassy. Her nose is also bright red and the nearby trash can is practically overflowing with tissues. 

You sigh, setting down the snack on a side table and coming over to Vi, laying a gentle hand on her muscled shoulder. 

She turns quickly to face you, pulling off a glove and plucking her earbuds out of her ears. 

“Hey, baby,” Vi says. She’s clearly going for casual, but her voice is scratchy and hoarse, and she looks dead on her feet. 

“Hey yourself,” you say, rubbing her shoulder soothingly. “Why don’t you come inside? I’ll make us some lunch.” 

Vi pulls her phone out of her gym shorts to check the time. “It’s only ten-thirty babe,” she frowns. She coughs into her elbow and the sound elicits a sympathetic wince from you. “I usually get at least another hour in before I take a break.” 

“I know,” you sigh, resisting the urge to reach up and feel Vi’s forehead. “Come in anyway? Please?” You look at her with wide eyes, an expression that you know she finds impossible to resist. 

Vi gives you a look that tells you she knows exactly what you’re doing, but she hangs up her gloves anyway and follows you inside. 

In the kitchen, Vi immediately slumps down into a chair, looking unusually fragile with her clammy, pale face. 

Your heart tugs, and you gently settle yourself onto her lap. Her arm automatically comes up to your waist to steady you, and you brush a kiss to her temple, tucking pink hair behind her ear. 

“You aren’t feeling well,” you say. It’s a statement, not a question. You trace your fingers over her jaw. “And you need rest.” 

Vi sighs, which turns into a cough. You rub her back while she works to get it under control. 

Vi’s sky blue eyes are red-rimmed and weary by the time she finally looks up at you. “I have a huge fight in two weeks.” 

You nod, brushing your thumb over her cheekbone. “All the more reason to rest now and let your body fight off whatever this is before it gets worse.” 

There’s a quiet pain in Vi’s gaze. You’ve seen it before, and it makes your chest ache that much more. 

You shift in her lap, bringing Vi’s head down to rest against your shoulder. She goes easily, slumping against you, exhaustion practically radiating off her. 

You start stroking your fingers through her hair, gently breaking up the sweaty tangles. You kiss the top of her head. 

“It’s okay to rest, sweetheart,” you murmur into her hair. “It doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human.” 

Vi makes a quiet, uncertain noise. She doesn’t lift her head. “It feels weak.” 

“I know,” you hum, keeping your strokes on her hair rhythmic. You can feel the tension easing out her bit by bit. “But that doesn’t make it true.” 

Vi lays against you for a beat, quiet falling in the intimacy of the kitchen. 

“My whole life, I’ve been a fighter,” Vi finally says, looking up at you. Her eyes are shining over-bright and the pain in her face is easy to read. “That’s what I’m good for. I’m a protector, I’m the muscle… My whole damn career depends on it.” 

You nod, still stroking her hair, waiting for her to continue. 

“When I can’t be that –” Vi’s voice catches, breaks. “If I can’t be that… I don’t know what I am.” 

You smile sadly, kissing her hair again. “First of all, sweetheart, we’re talking about a few days off to recover from a cold, not the end of your career.” You chuckle softly, and Vi’s mouth twitches. 

“And,” you continue, “you are so much more than just a fighter. Sure, you’re tough as hell and an amazing boxer, but that’s not what I love you for. I love you for this, Vi –” you put your hand over her heart, “– not what you do or how many matches you win. I love you because you’re funny and brave and kind and because you care way too much about the people you love. I love you because you’re shit at video games and you laugh at dumb Tiktoks and you give me the best hugs I’ve ever had.” 

You lean in and kiss her lips, germs be damned. “I just love you, Vi Lanes. And I would really love it if you got your sick ass in bed. Got it?” You smirk at her, tenderly brushing hair out her eyes. 

Vi ducks her head, blinking quickly and rubbing a hand over her eyes. But when she looks back up at you, she’s smiling. 

“Did you spend all morning thinking of that little speech?” she grins, raising her eyebrows. 

You laugh and slide off her lap, offering a hand to help her up. “Maybe. Now, bed.” Then you look her up and down and amend, “Well, shower first, then bed.” 

“You saying I stink?” Vi smirks, crossing her arms. 

“I said no such thing.” 

“You implied it.” 

You roll your eyes, lacing your fingers between Vi’s and tugging her toward the bedroom. “Enough arguing, sickie. Get clean and get in bed, those are your orders.” 

Vi laughs softly, following you down the hall. 

“powder, you can’t say that!” you gasp, having to stifle a laugh. your friend is already doubled over, clutching her stomach- she finds herself absolutely hilarious.

“what? i’m just saying what everyone else is thinking!”

you roll your eyes and shake your head. you know that anything else you say will fall on deaf ears, and honestly? what she said had some truth to it. you won’t give her the satisfaction of being right.

“so what if that enforcer was ugly?! you can’t compare him to a toad! that’s, like, disrespectful to toads all around the world!”

“oh, please, it doesn’t matter. you know i’m right.”

“nope.”

powder leans forward from where she’s sitting on the staircase, cloudy night sky stretching out over the two of you. although zaun never truly sleeps, this time of evening usually holds a peaceful tranquility you can’t find any other part of the day. the streets neighboring you are filled with idle chatter rather than boisterous laughter and drunken tumbling. 

you and powder have been best friends since the fateful day the two of you bumped into each other in the lanes. her older sister was by her side, holding her hand to make sure she didn’t get lost amongst the chaos that was the undercity. both of you were eight years old, in that awkward phase where you aren’t quite little kids, now starting to gain an understanding of the world around you- yet still too young to truly comprehend all of it.

you gave the girl a little wave, and she waved back, a small smile tugging at her lips. vi looked down at her, then over to you, and a silent exchange seemed to happen between the two of you before vi let go of her hand and powder came running over to you, eagerly introducing herself. almost anxious to make a new friend, but excited nonetheless.

you were always too shy to approach other kids first. much like the majority of zaun’s child population, you were without a conventional family- only having your father and siblings to rely on. even so, that was unstable, seeing as your father worked more than he was ever home so that he could afford to keep a roof over your head.

a quick friendship blossomed between you and powder. soon enough, the two of you were attached at the hip- “never one without the other,” as vi put it. vander welcomed you into his home as if you were another one of his adopted kids, an ever-growing nest. of all the people you knew, powder was the only person that you felt could truly understand you.

and beside her sister, powder felt the same.

now, at twelve, you two are so close to that terrifying stage that is the teenage years- anxious and excited all the same, feeling a little less afraid since the two of you will be entering it together.

of the pair of you, you’ve always been the more level-headed one. both of you are equally smart, but powder tends to live with her head in the clouds. often, you’re the one that has to ground her- and in the same vein, she’s reminding you to think bigger, to dream bigger. opposites in mindset, but it works perfectly. you balance each other out.

“yeah, and you know it.” powder snorts.

you just shake your head, letting out a heavy sigh of exasperation. “whatever you say, pow-pow.”

her expression lights up and she pumps her fist like you’ve just confirmed a great victory, and you chuckle at this. before long, the girl is onto the next subject, yapping away in the way you’ve grown to take great comfort in.

“so.. vi and vander are planning this thing tomorrow at the bridge, saying they wanna take down silco and his goons! but stupid vi keeps saying i can’t come,” she grumbles.

you know this well. it’s not like she’s told you a million and one times- but still, you’re always here to listen.

“it’s for your own good,” you gently remind her, and now it’s powder’s turn to roll her eyes. “she doesn’t want you getting hurt.”

“i’m a big kid, i can handle myself,” she insists. “aaanyways.. i’ve been working on a new monkey bomb with the crystals we found up topside!”

the girl fishes one of the little hex gems out of her side satchel to show you, smiling ear to ear. no matter how many times you see these, they’re remarkable- how could piltover make something so incredible, and how could powder decipher them so quickly?

“yeah?” you prompt.

“i’m gonna go, no matter what vi says. it’s gonna work this time, i know it will. vi’s just scared about nothing- she’ll see! it’ll be so awesome, like- i’m gonna save the day kind of awesome, and then they’re gonna have to see how strong i am. mylo and claggor too.”

you give a small smile, endeared by her enthusiasm. you can’t help the worry that clouds your mind, though, despite how sure of herself she seems.

at the same time, you’ve been friends with powder long enough to know that once she’s made up her mind, there’s no changing it. try as you might to talk her down, you’d be wasting your breath.

“..just be careful, okay?”

powder giggles, giving your shoulder a playful shove. “you worry too much. i’ll be fine.”

you sigh, nodding slowly. seeing your expression- furrowed brows, slight frown, powder’s expression sobers a bit and she pulls you into her side for a hug.

“seriously. i’ll be okay. you’ll see!”

powder, in fact, was not okay. 

seldom were you so panicked. you lived close enough to the bridge to hear all of the commotion. you heard the explosions, then debris raining down on your roof. destruction as far as the eye could reach. looking out of your window that never quite closed, you saw the remains of that bridge and vander falling from it- then powder’s wails. 

although you couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, you could tell that she was in utter agony. all the loss the two of you have witnessed, all the episodes you’ve helped her through, and you’ve never heard her like this. it brought tears to your own eyes, and right before you were out to jump out of that window to rush to the scene, your father tugged you back by your shirt.

“please, let me go-” you choked out through tears, scrambling to escape his grasp. looking over your shoulder, he only shook his head.

“better not to get involved.”

and fuck, he was right. that fact only upset you more. he know how deep your bond was, but he couldn’t risk you getting caught in crossfire. he couldn’t risk losing his eldest daughter.

you thought you’d hear something more from powder after the fact. the next day, you anxiously waited by your doorstep for her to turn up like she usually would- yet the never did. days of radio silence turned into weeks, then months. 

it killed you. you blamed yourself more often than not- wishing that you could’ve done something to change her mind, even if you knew what was almost always a losing battle. tiptoeing through old memories of the two of you together. laughing, smiling, playing hopscotch in the alley and getting scolded for staying out so late. it brought you to tears without fail.

you had heard things through the grapevine. that it was a whirlwind, that powder killed everyone- then that was disproven, and there was said to be only one casualty, but you couldn’t get clear who exactly it was.

after some more time, it became clear, seeing as everyone in the undercity was saying the same thing: vi passed away.

powder held her dying sister in her arms and screamed out for her, pleading for her not to die. apologizing over and over until her vocal chords were strained. that was what you had heard that night, and knowing the full context of it made your heart ache even more.

if only you could’ve stopped her. if only.

you tried to go by the last drop, only to be greeted by vander- if he even was there, as he hired someone to help around the place after vi’s death. whenever you asked for powder, he’d just give a sad smile, and tell you that she wasn’t taking visitors at the moment.

it was hard for you not to take it to heart. it was even harder for you to move after your father decided to uproot the household and move them to a more affluent part of zaun- what could almost be called a suburb.

you tried to protest. you liked your life in the lanes, as unpredictable as it was- but your dad argued that this was the best for you and your siblings. you deserved better than to grow up by constant street fights. you deserved a better education. you had no choice in the matter, anyway, so you dragged your heels to your new home. 

the years went by. things changed, you changed, you grew from an unsure young girl to a slightly-less-unsure young woman. 

despite the passage of time, you never forgot about powder. the thought of her lingered in the back of your mind- what was she up to now? where did life take her? was she still in the lanes? the image of her, frozen in time as the lanky 12-year-old with the twinkling blue eyes and bright smile, wouldn’t leave you. you didn’t want it to.

life went on, though. sure enough, you went to a better high school, making it into honors classes and even earning a few college credits early. you made a few friends, keeping a small and tight-knit circle. you were close to all of them in different ways- and still, none of them could quite fill the hole in your heart that powder’s absence left.

the social and economic conditions of the undercity improved in ways you would’ve never thought possible just a few years ago. the sky was clearer, more people were housed, more people had access to higher education. a brand new trade school was built on the outskirts, which was a big deal for a city that’s never even had a college. 

nights filled with laughter and fun memories didn’t hold a candle to your nights spent playing ball in back alleys and watching pirated movies on vander’s old box tv. and you hated how you felt, because these were good people that you were spending time with. you loved them and they loved you, treated you in all of the ways that friends should. yet no matter how hard you tried to move on, you couldn’t. 

a part of powder would be with you forevermore.

even if it tugged at your heartstrings and made you cry in your bed as you submitted college applications. even if she was a frequent topic of discussion in your journals, and endless songs would always remind you of her.

your first day at the academy proved.. confusing. 

overwhelming.

you were in five courses this semester, a good starting point, as you were told. two gen-ed classes, and three relating to your major. truth be told, you didn’t expect to actually get into the academy, granted with their openly elitist practices. students from zaun are few and far between. zaunite applications get thrown away frequently, and those who are admitted have a much higher standard to live up to.

you were shocked to even be admitted, and to your astonishment, you got a full-ride scholarship. you decided to pay the extra fee for a single dorm, seeing as it was covered by your scholarship. moving in was more of a pain than you expected. it’s true, the saying that you never realize how much stuff you truly have until it’s time to move.

despite the challenges, you’re here, and you’re gonna make sure to count your blessings daily. two classes monday, wednesday and friday, three on tuesday and thursday. your first day is a wednesday, and the morning class was related to your major. no heavy courseload yet, just introductions and the syllabus- as well as reluctant icebreakers.

last class.. modern physics: quantum mechanics. why this was a general education requirement, you had no idea. science was the credit you needed to get, but why were you enrolled in this course specifically?

it’s not that you don’t understand physics. it’s just that in all of your high school physics classes, you passed by the skin of your teeth. it’s not among your many strengths. what made it even worse is that none of your high school friends had been accepted into the academy, so you had nobody to rely on in class. nobody to borrow notes from. nobody to study with. 

stepping into the crowded lecture hall, you saw a sea of people already there. some sat in the very front, an ambitious decision- and some huddled in the back. very few in the rows in between. after a few looks at who was sitting where, you decided to sit in the row third from the front. it had the least amount of people currently occupying it, though you figured the entire hall would be filled within moments. 

you were right.

you grabbed your laptop from your bookbag and opened it to the online course page, as well as an empty spiral notebook and a ballpoint pen. just in case.

soon enough, the professor entered with a laptop and powerpoint ready, talking about the same procedures you’ve had explained several times. an overview of the course, attendance, grading policies, AI policy, deadlines, office hours.. it’s the same for every class with very minor changes. letting your mind drift for a moment, your gaze shifts from student to student in the rows in front of you. one is playing slither.io on their laptop, another is paying attention but yawning very loudly, another is resting their chin in their hand and seemingly trying to keep from falling asleep. your eye catches someone, though, sitting at the very front.

a girl with a petite frame, pale skin, in a green vest. her hair is pulled into high space buns, blue with a little pink streak on one side.

you recognize that shade of blue.

you recognize those shoulder freckles.

suddenly, your heart feels as if it might beat out of your chest, and you’re physically unable to focus on what the professor is saying. you can’t get ahead of yourself, you keep trying to think, but you wish so badly that the girl would just turn around. if only for a split second, so that you could see if she is who you think she might be.

you’re not sure if you hope it’ll be her or not. all these years spent missing your once-best-friend, and now you’re utterly terrified at the prospect of actually seeing her again. 

would it be awkward? would the dynamic be the same? would powder think that you left her behind, or that you forgot about her?

worse, did she forget you?

you can hear your pulse in your ears, and suddenly, your hands gripping the chair beneath you begin to soak the plastic in sweat. the minutes crawl by as your mind races a mile a minute, thinking of every possible way this could end.

where do you even go from here? approach her? make a fool of yourself?

“class dismissed,” the professor says, cutting through your thoughts. with a huff, you stuff your laptop and stationery back into your bag. your eyes barely leave the girl in front of you for a second, and she turns to the side when the person next to her asks her a question- and you swear you can feel your heart stop. it’s as if the world stills completely.

that side profile. 

those same twinkling, powder-blue eyes are locked on your classmate. the slim, low-bridged nose, the same gapped smile. you’d recognize it anywhere. if you were sweating before, your body is absolutely overwhelmed now. powder and your classmate wave goodbye to each other, and then she turns just a little more- and her eyes catch yours.

your heart stutters. for a moment, she stares at you dumbly, thick brows furrowing, but a beat later she’s gasping and rushing over to you. 

“holy shit, it’s you!”

your eyes widen, and all you can manage is to nod. “and.. powder!”

all of the anxiety has washed away. the absolute best case scenario has happened, the girl from so long ago remembers you just as vividly as you do her. she hasn’t moved on, hasn’t replaced you.

without hesitation, powder throws her arms around your shoulders and giggles, and you allow yourself to laugh with her as you return her embrace. you’ve been waiting for this for years now- her arms are tight around you, and she’s got that same smell of vanilla body wash and vague oil from her mechanics that you remember so well.

it’s a bit awkward, being in the aisle of a lecture hall. a few students scoff and push past you, but neither of you pay any mind. you’ll savor this moment for as long as humanly possible. 

you pull away reluctantly, enough to meet her eyes. do you see tears welling? you let out a breathy laugh. “what the hell happened to you?”

“well.. vi passed away,” she sighs, a flicker of inexplicable grief passing over her expression. she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, though, and continues. “and after everything, vander wanted to lay low for a while. give us time to grieve, make sure that we’re safe, and give him time to get it through my head that this wasn’t my fault. i really struggled for a while, you know? i still do. i just.. i wanna make her proud. i wanted to come here, but mylo gave me the push i needed. said that vi would’ve wanted to see me make something of myself.”

you nod slowly, face softening with her words. you loosen your embrace to take one of her hands in yours and give it a gentle squeeze.

“yeah,” you murmur. “i think so too.”

powder presses her lips into a thin line. “and i thought of you. constantly. i wanted to go out and find you, but vander insisted we all stay in his line of sight. he was worried i’d do something since i wasn’t..” she gestures vaguely to her head with her free hand. “all there, mentally. but i just wanted to find you.”

gods, you’ve wanted to hear that for so long.

all this time wondering. finally, you have an answer, and you feel as if you’re floating. absolutely untouchable to the outside world.

“i tried looking for you too,” you breathe out. “but vander.. he always turned me away.”

powder’s eyes widen momentarily, and you figure that he must’ve never told her this.

“..by the time i could go to your house, it was empty. i tried to ask around, but everyone just said you moved. i knew that, but nobody knew where you moved to.”

“i’m sorry, i- my dad, he wanted to move us to a..” you can’t say ‘nicer’ when you mean richer. “..more affluent part of zaun, so we could go to better schools, and we weren’t around the chaos of the lanes.”

powder huffs at that, a smile tugging at her lips before shaking her head. “yeah, sounds like your old man.”

you shrug, mirroring her smile. she perks up then, and finally starts walking toward the exit. 

“do you wanna see my place?”

“sure,” you hum. “what dorm?”

“i’m living off campus. cheaper that way.”

you just nod, following her lead.

soon enough, you and powder fell back into a familiar routine. there were some nerves at first, with all the life changes that had happened- both of you going from children to young adults, the entire world at your fingertips, and trying to navigate exactly what that means for you. one thing you’re sure about is that it’s much less daunting with a friend by your side.

after the initial stages, it was like no time had passed at all. despite powder’s appearance changing and her life taking a different direction, the dynamic was the same. her personality remained unchanged for the most part- still the same spunky, ambitious, brave, genius girl you once knew. 

you learned that she was majoring in mechanical engineering, and that the class you shared was a requirement for that. she was surprised upon learning that it was just a gen-ed class for you, but shrugged it off. freshman scheduling is odd in that way.

you exchanged phone numbers and social media, and powder was disappointed to see that you only had an instagram which you never posted on. you just laughed, citing that you were always the more reserved one in the friendship.

you explored campus together, went to the various dining halls and cringed at the less-than-stellar ‘food’ they offered. you laughed at the gaudy academy merchandise that the rich kids wore like they were paid to. but now, only three weeks into the semester, you’re coming up on your first exam.

“do you wanna study together?” the girl had proposed, and you accepted immediately. she smiled, and pursed her lips. “where should we go?”

“campus library?” you suggested, but powder shook her head.

“no, too many people. i’ll get distracted.”

“..cafe?”

“same thing! ugh, can’t we just go to your dorm?”

you’re not sure why you haven’t thought of that, and you’re not sure why the mere idea is making heat rise to your cheeks. you nod slowly.

“uh- yeah. dorm works, it isn’t too far a walk..”

“superposition,” powder says, leaning closer to you. the two of you are sat on your dorm floor atop your rug, notebooks, textbooks, pens, and highlights scattered all over. it’s past dark now, and you’ve been at this for hours.

clearly, your friend is understanding this, but it feels like a foreign language to you. one without a dictionary, and powder is trying her absolute best to explain everything- you’d feel awful admitting that despite her efforts, this still makes no sense to you.

the problem on the study guide seems to be mocking you. you look at it over and over again. i = 24 3+2 − 7 2 3+2 − 3i 3+2 =2 − 3 5 i , and even though powder has offered to give you the answer multiple times, you’ve declined every single one.

“this is college, pow,” you sighed. “i can’t rely on others for stuff i should know.”

isolate one source, then analyze the modified circuit, repeat, sum.

it sounds so simple on paper, but in practice, you feel helpless. all those years of studying and all those good grades, seemingly for nothing- at least that’s the way you’re seeing it.

powder’s gone back to her own study guide, which she’s almost fully through. she’s solved every practice problem, memorized every definition and formula that she’ll need for the test. probably the ones she won’t need, too.

finally, though, you manage to isolate the source and analyze. for one, then the next, then you’re finished.

one practice problem down, fourteen to go.

“look at you,” powder giggles. “see? i knew you’d get it!”

you brush off her words with a small smile, shaking your head and rushing to write down the next problems. after the torment that was figuring out the first one, the rest come easily to you. same formula, different numbers, similar outcomes.

you’re not sure what makes your professor’s teaching so confusing. you’re not sure if it’s anything to do with her to begin with, but whatever powder has done has helped tremendously.

by now, she’s moving on to making her own practice problems, cross-referencing the textbook and study guide. you almost envy the girl’s understanding of this, but then again, she’s always been a genius. always been good at solving problems and working with her hands. it’s no wonder that she’s decided to go into this field.

“you’re really good at this,” you murmur, and powder snorts. just like old times, you think.

“eh, i’m alright. i know my way around.”

“no, seriously. i knew you were smart, but this is.. wow.”

powder gives a soft smile, shrugging and scratching down the rest of her practice problem. “you give me too much credit.”

“just accept the compliment.”

“alright, alright,” she rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “thank you.”

you look out the window, then at the time on your phone. 11:39 already? it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, but then again, powder was always the type of friend that made time fly by just by being with her.

it’s good to see that some things don’t change.

“do you.. wanna stay over for the night? i’d just feel awful sending you to get home this late, and- i mean, i have an extra bed,” you gesture to the other side of the room, seeing powder’s blue eyes lift from her notebook. “you don’t have to. just offering.”

“alright,” powder sighs, not seeming to take any time to reflect. like a reflex. for some reason, that makes your heart surge, unlike the feeling you got during sleepovers as a kid. you brush it off. 

she closes her notebook and haphazardly shoves it in her bag, kicking it to the side as she makes her way to your bathroom to wash up. you dim the lights before joining her in brushing your teeth and washing your face, then going back into your bedroom to change into pajamas. you feel bad almost, knowing powder didn’t bring anything of her own. she’s always been more than welcome to your wardrobe, though- and all of your belongings, really.

once she’s done, her hair let down and shorter than you remember it- you near gasp, seeing just how beautiful it looks falling over her shoulders- she climbs into your guest bed, directly opposite yours. with a yawn, you turn over and get under the covers.

“ready for bed?”

“mhm,” she murmurs, voice laced with exhaustion.

you reach over to turn your lamp off, and powder echoes your yawn. you hear some shuffling, then silence. closing your eyes, turning over.

it’s been a day.

of all the scenarios in your head, fantasizing about how you and powder might reunite, none of them played out quite like this. you thought you might bump into each other on the street, or find each other on social media, or find her working at a local shop. she never mentioned dreams of higher education, though.

all of that aside, though, you’re grateful that you’re finally together again. although you wish that you would’ve seen the years forming her into the woman she is now, you’re impressed by who she’s grown up to be. you hope that with even more time, you can learn the things that changed her, made her light up, and made her weep in the night.

you just want to be close to her again. so far, this seems promising.

powder cuts through your thoughts with a whispered “goodnight,” and her voice makes something in you ache.

“goodnight,” you reply.

you and powder rarely go anywhere without each other now.

after visiting the last drop for the first time in years, vander has welcomed you with open arms and explained all of what happened from his perspective. you were understanding, you forgave him, and within no time, the dynamic went back to the same it was years ago.

she’s still troubled. that much is clear. time doesn’t heal all wounds, and losing her sister has done more damage than she can explain. you don’t try to rationalize the pain to her, nor do you try to fix it. you’re happy to just sit with her in it, to rub her back as she cries and to tell her that vi would be so endlessly proud of what she’s doing. of all she’s accomplished. for powder, that’s enough.

it honestly shocked you, how quickly things settled into place. you expected some initial awkwardness and growing pains, yet none of those were present. powder had obviously changed, but not in any ways that would change your friendship.

you don’t remember her being this.. touchy, though.

it’s been a little over a month since that fateful meeting. it’s been a little over a month of slowly learning the basics of quantum physics, which powder has already finished. an easy A, as she puts it, just something to guarantee her degree. the lectures are drawn-out and dry, the homework is near incomprehensible. every time you look at the figures presented to you, you squint like you’re trying to read an ancient language.

somehow, powder is always able to reframe things in a way that you’ll understand. she’s truly been your saving grace, and you don’t believe you’d be passing without her guidance. late nights spent in your dorm have become routine. you enter class together, you leave together, you submit your assignments right after she submits hers.

this would surely ruin your friendship. considering that there’s no way in hell she’d ever return your affections, at least not in the romantic sense, you can’t imagine possibly confessing to her. confessing to her, and then ruining something so good. you’ve just gotten powder back after seven years. 

you don’t want to risk losing her again.

today, you’ve had a lecture about the uncertainty principle. while most of it went over your head, powder assured you that she’d help you. just like always. as you pack up your bag and sling it over your shoulders, powder walks into your aisle and you give her a soft smile. 

“hey, pow.”

“hey,” she hums. “everything good? your brain hasn’t totally turned to mush, right?”

“not yet,” you chuckle. “i’ll be fine. i have a great teacher right here.”

“oh, hush.”

powder playfully shoves your shoulder and you giggle, starting to head toward the exit of the hall. “say, there’s a new boba place nearby.. do you wanna check it out?”

powder nods quicker than she can think.

“do i? how far?”

“about a ten minute walk,” you say, pulling out your phone to start directions. “not bad.” the girl shrugs, and you’re on your way.

you hold open the door for her upon arrival, and powder murmurs a quick ‘thank you’ before stepping in. you look over the menu for a few moments before she smiles and goes up to the counter. once you both place your orders, you reach for your card, and powder gasps.

“hey, no!” “i’ve got it,” you insist.

“no. you paid for lunch last time, so i’ll get it this time.” “powder, really, it’s okay,” you huff, smiling gently. “if it bothers you that much, you can pay next time.”

the girl opens her mouth to argue, but you’ve already tapped your card before she can. she rolls her eyes and groans, practically dragging her feet to the other side of the counter to wait for your order. you have to stifle a laugh.

despite herself, when you join her, powder lays her head on your shoulder and leans into you. though still not happy, she’s so comfortable. so content.

messy, choppy blue locks sprawl over your shoulder, warmth radiating off her like sunrays on a spring day. the smell of oil is braided with her fruity perfume, and she sighs against you. crosses her arms as you ruffle her hair, and gives a lopsided smile.

gods, you think. she’s adorable.

heat rises to your cheeks as she relaxes more and more into you, but before you can truly soak in the moment, your name is called and your drinks are placed on the counter. powder’s smile widens and she snatches up the boba, and that’s when you realize that you might be falling for your best friend.

the dining hall’s food is barely edible, but it’s paid for by your scholarships. who has money for groceries, especially while they’re a student?

you grabbed a few slices of pizza for lunch. the cheese isn’t fully melted, and the crust is so hard it takes five minutes to chew. all the money people pay to go to the academy, and apparently none of it goes to food. it’s edible, at the very least. some kind of sustenance to get you through the day.

you’re mindlessly scrolling on your instagram feed as you eat, headphones in to drown out the hustle and bustle of students around you. college isn’t like high school. cliques aren’t as prevalent, and nobody looks at you oddly if you’re sitting by yourself. you have a lot more freedom to truly do what you want.

out of the corner of your eye, though, you see a familiar bag being set down and you take out one of your headphones. powder.

coming to terms with your feelings was.. difficult. the last time you recall having a crush was in your first year of high school, yearning for a girl in your english class whose laugh lit up your world. your hopes were crushed when you saw her kiss one of the school’s athletes on the cheek and walk away with her, arms looped, disgustingly in love.

you don’t remember feeling this way about powder before, and you can’t figure out what it is about her that makes you look at her this way now. but every time she reaches for your hand while walking to class, your heart jumps. every praise she gives you after you get a practice problem right makes you beam. 

you revel in her warmth. while you initially dreaded the thought of the class, now it’s your favorite part of the day. everything else seems to pale in comparison.

she sets down a plate with a slice of pizza, the same as yours, some fruit, and varied bags of chips. 

“they think this stuff is actual food?” she huffs.

you huff, giving a small smile to the girl as you shove your phone into your pocket. her hair is done in a high messy bun with pink and blue clips holding back the choppy face-framing layers she’s recently touched up, with a deep purple tank over a black mesh top. she’s hastily swiped silver glitter over both of her eyes and is wearing pink lip gloss. jean shorts over ripped tights and combat boots. she looks stunning. 

put together and messy all the same, that balance that powder strikes so perfectly.

“according to the health board,” you remark. “you’d think that a prestigious school up topside would have something better.”

“you could tell me this was stillwater slop, and i wouldn’t think twice.”

that makes you giggle. regardless, powder bites into the fruit that’s still sort of fresh. she’s sitting so close to you it makes your breath catch in your throat. her thighs brush against yours, and you don’t dare move. 

the feelings within you are so close to bubbling over. like they’ve taken full control of you, and the words are building up in your throat. you don’t want to say how much you adore her. at the same time, you want to scream it from the rooftops.

but she turns to you with that same smile, looking at you with such warmth in her blue eyes, droning on about piltover’s pretentiousness despite their actual conditions, and the words vanish. maybe you’ll remember them later.

you just nod along with her rambling, offering little ‘uh-huh’s and ‘yeah?’s. no actual opinions. nothing of substance. just you, watching her glossed lips move and her hands wildly gesture.

“i mean, they swear they’re so much better than us. but they’re serving fucking slop at the academy! ironic, huh?”

“yeah. ironic.” 

“all i’m gonna say is don’t be surprised if i don’t show up to class one day cause i got food poisoning.”

“don’t get food poisoning, please,” you sigh.

“i’ll try,” powder playfully elbows you, smile stretching across her lips.

you’re fucked.

powder was supposed to leave two hours ago, but you got too caught up in studying. with midterms long gone, finals are approaching quicker than either of you would like. you decided to make a study session out of it, as you always do. notebooks on the floor, dried-out pens and crumpled papers overflowing from the trash, the glow of powder’s laptop being the only source of light in your dorm. 

the harsh pitter-patter of rain against your windowpane drew a groan from powder. you aren’t gonna let her go out in this mess and potentially get sick, so you offered her your guest bed, and the girl hastily accepted.

powder’s absentmindedly chewing on the end of her pen as her dark brows furrow. this is a rarity. a concept actually stumping her.

“doing okay?”

“yeah, yeah,” powder mutters. “i’ll figure it out.”

“i’d help if i could.”

“i know you would.”

you’ve printed the same formulas, definitions, and figures down into your notebook more times than you can count. trying to imprint them on your brain, so that the final exam becomes effortless. something that you could do with your eyes closed. you’ve never been one to rely on others for academic help, but if powder isn’t understanding it? you might be doomed.

with a yawn, the girl across from you drops her notebook on the floor and stretches her legs out in front of her. “i need a break.”

“that makes two of us,” you say.

you climb into your bed, fighting the urge to lay down even though your eyelids feel heavy and your body’s grown weary. to your surprise, though, powder follows you instead of going to the opposite side of the room. she climbs the ladder, then plops herself down right next to you.

“we’ll figure it out,” she murmurs, exhaustion creeping into her voice. “just maybe not tonight. but you’ll see.”

“i guess so.”

powder’s hand rests over yours. warm, calloused from all of her tinkering yet still achingly soft somehow. the girl’s always been good at holding two truths at once. your eyes meet, tension thickening in the air between the two of you. your eyes flicker to her lips, then back to her eyes.

“you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for,” she murmurs. “just cause you struggle with this doesn’t mean you’re helpless.”

“yeah, i know,” you sigh. you wish that you could just brush it off, yet you can’t bring yourself to dismiss anything that your friend- is she a friend at this point?- says, no matter how untrue you may think it is. “it’s just really hard. i don’t know how you do it.”

“i was teaching myself this stuff when i was twelve,” she shrugs, and you scoff in amusement, because of course she was. you were there to witness all of it.

your fingers intertwine with hers, and powder gives a soft squeeze. your heart is beating like a wardrum, you can practically hear your pulse surging. janna above, how does she have this effect on you? does she even know what she does to you?

“i mean it. you gotta stop being so hard on yourself.”

“i’ll try.”

“i’m not convinced,” she squeezes your hand once again, and her face inches closer to yours. blue eyes boring into yours like she’s trying to persuade you with looks alone. you can see every line and crackle of her lips, the flyaways from her bangs getting in her eyes. so close that the two of you are sharing breath.

“i mean it.”

“i’m sure you do,” she chuckles, and that does you in.

without thinking, you lean forward, closing the mere centimeters of distance between you two. soft, is your first thought. she tastes like her cotton candy flavored chapstick, she smells perfect as she always does.

and to your surprise, she melts into your touch. her lips move against yours in a slow and steady rhythm, her hand finding the back of your head and fingers threading through your hair. you sigh against her.

you swear you can hear fireworks go off. your body feels like it’s floating, powder’s chest pressing against yours as your hands nervously find her waist. she licks into your mouth, slow and sweet, and you ever so slightly part your lips for her. then she smiles against you, and you can’t help letting out a breathy chuckle.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” you whisper, and powder huffs.

“why haven’t you?”

“i- i didn’t think you felt the same.”

she presses another kiss to your lips. tender and slow as the last, dissolving all of your previous doubts away. “i do, for the record.”

you give a soft laugh, and powder smiles, looking at you like you’ve hung all the stars in the sky. she yawns, and looking out the window to see rain still pouring down, you whisper, “do you wanna just call it quits for the night?”