#wlw fluff

[manonism]

₍^. .^₎⟆ doctors orders (the woes of a pregnant wife) ft. shoko ieri x pregnant!reader cw, pregnancy / girls can impregnate, light profanity, injury & wifey attracts danger ⋆ all ages can interact! 🏷️ @yorikae @lotuscy @sugusplaything @thceseus @cnavyblue @spookyreviewluminary

shoko can't believe you right now.

you've never been the brightest. now it’s all amplified from the emotions and hormones, leaving you feel like your brain is melting down into mush.

as the tip of your perfectly pedicured toe skims the surface level in the tub, she stands in the doorway. “babe— what is this?” shoko tuts and crosses her arms. she’s in a tiny sleep tank top and lounge pants, hair pulled up in a bun. she had just finished up a smoke session outside as she was trying to cut back on smoking at all. shoko crosses the bathroom quickly to inspect your crime scene, at least that’s what it feels like nowadays.

you had candles lit, your meticulously crafted playlist on, and your bubble bath drawn so full it was close to sloshing over the edge of the tub. it’s humid in the bathroom. shoko can already tell you forgot.

her fingers dip into your water, “no.” shoko pulls her hand back quickly, yanking the drain plug out while you blink in disbelief. “no?” you ask. “it’s too hot!” she frowns. “it isn’t. it’s just a little warm.” you retort. shoko shakes her head.

“it’s hot enough to boil an egg.” she starts fixing your bath for you, checking the temperature before you can get into it. shoko snickers as she glances over and you’re wrapped in your towel with a big frown. “it’s cold..”

“warm. and safe.” shoko interjects. you visibly melt at her words, slipped off your towel and sinking into the tub. not the best bath, but… it’ll do. “let’s make it quick— so i can warm you up in bed.”

next thing shoko knows, she’s haunched over the tub and you’re practically purring with her fingers scratching at your scalp, washing your hair. “you’re such a biiig baby.” shoko teases. you suddenly shift and try to cast a glare at her and her hands steady you back into place so she can finish. you are too sleepy to argue. “there won’t be enough space for two of you…” she trails off, noticing you’ve dozed off. shoko pokes your cheek and your eyes fly open. “hm!” your belly fully rises out of the water.

she giggles, covering her mouth. “you’ll cook them before they get here. warm is fine, no more boiling.” she’s staring at your perfectly rounded belly.

months ago you begged her for this.

“sho! we should have a baby.” you pressed up against her while she was busy at the kitchen counter, trying to cook dinner. shoko raised a brow. “not today.” your body froze up, hands dropping from her waist. “why not? our babies would be cute!”

she shakes her head, “cute in pictures, not when it’s living in your home!” you sigh. “make sure you’re tracking your fertile cycle app. did you take your birth control?” shoko starts simmering the pot and turning around. you shuffle around, looking nervous. “i take that as a no then.” this is the usual thing— you don’t track your cycle and you forget your pills frequently, thinking taking it a day later is fine.

boom— sex ban.

you’ll show her the tiniest baby outfits. wave at the cutest babies in shopping carts and strollers with a big smile. you had a fullblown case of baby fever. thus, shoko never heard the end of it. you did have serious talks about children and of course, you took the pill as did shoko watch her cycle to make sure no babies were getting made.

one night you laid back, fullying accepting and like putty in her hands. “let’s make a baby,” you sighed, “you, me, and a little us.” you peck her lips. shoko is actually the weak one when it comes to this. it doesn’t sound so bad— maybe it would be best if she tells you that later, you both could try as soon as your cycles were compatible. everything seems safe. sometimes, she’ll finish inside of you and make sure you have what you need for extra prevention. you two have been together for years and yeah, you’re right— a little one sounds good.

“they’re soo heavy.” you grimace, both hands pressing on the top of your bump. shoko realized pretty soon that you had forgotten your pill when you started getting nauseous and sleepier. one test later and you blubbered on about not knowing this would happen, shoko reminded you that you have to be punctual with your pill once again and spent the night with you in her arms. you’ll handle it all together and make the best decisions, she swore to you.

nowadays she’s the sole brain here.

the apartment is completely quiet, except for the soft sounds of white noises that shoko has been turning on for you. it's 4:35 am, everyone is asleep here and you are very much not asleep.

a thought hit you. wouldn't your wedding photo be a good touch to the nursery? the walls were pretty bare, your baby needs to be surrounded by love. so you decide that the only thing you need to be doing right now is finding the picture and putting it in the nursery.

you sit up slowly, struggling from lack of sleep and the pressure of this baby. measuring well above average, your baby shifts under your sleep shirt, gasping. "you think so too?" they shift again with a light stretch. "okay well, pee first." your nose scrunches and you're waddling as quick as possible to the bathroom.

after your quick bathroom break, you flick on the hallway light. you slowly open up the hallway closet door, trying not to make any noise as shoko has to wake up for work soon and told you how meticulous and delicate her surgery is. you don't want to interrupt her sleep.

there's the storage box; top shelf and junk stacked on top of the lid. you drag over a stool— noisy— but you don't think you're noisy at all. you climb up halfway before you pause to decide the best course of action before continuing to climb and latch onto the corner, decorations and whatnot rustling around, moving them so they don’t fall off.

"what are you doing?" a groggy voice comes from behind you, making you freeze and slowly turn to the voice. shoko stands at the end of the hall and crosses her arms over her chest with messy hair and half-lidded eyes. she scans over your figure, assessing the clear risk.

you smile sheepishly, “…uh, nothing?” shoko glances at the stool, your belly, the heavy box— then you. “get down.”

“i almost have it!”

she sighs, “get down from there.” you let out a little whine as you think you have it, not wanting to stop in the middle and give up. “it’s rea-ally important, sho!” she frowns, her expression worried. she doesn’t want you falling or to get faint while climbing high. “what on earth could possibly be so important at four— that you’re climbing on stools to get into storage?”

you point upwards. “us!”

shoko pauses, a bit confused. “…what?” she stares at the top shelf. “our wedding photo,” you said earnestly, “for the nursery… the baby should have it in the nursery.” she goes silent, arms falling to rest at her sides, shifting her weight onto her other side.

you reach up again to get a better grip, the box shifting, far too heavy for your loose grip. your balance wobbles— shoko moving fast, one hand bracing your hip and her other hand on your back. “hey— no.”

“i’ve got this sho!” she stands there unconvinced, before her hands grip your hips firmly. “come down.” ooh… shoko sounds serious! she guides you down from the stool, acting as if she was handling something fragile. which, you were, a little bit. you huffed. “i could’ve got it myself.”

shoko snorts, “sure you could’ve babe.” she pulls the box off of the top shelf with a huff. “i just don’t want you falling or getting lightheaded. anything could happen, i don’t want to see that.” she explains. oh— she’s got you. you wander to the sofa with her so you can find your picture frames.

there’s the two of you on your wedding day, holding onto a small cake plate, pressing a fork to your lips. you’re clearly distracted by something else and white cream is stuck to your lip. “you look like a cupcake.” she murmurs, staring at the wedding gown you begged for. full of rhinestones, lace, flowers, and very big— it made her heart skip and jaw drop to see you in your dress.

“you looked so good…” you lean into her side, “now we are gonna have a baby. thankfully you kept me around?” shoko rolls her eyes, smiling at the picture. it’d been a bit over six years since and your relationship is stronger than ever. “of course i am.” she kisses you, standing to take the photo to the nursery. you’re already asleep and drooling slightly.

when you wake up in the morning, the picture’s hung up on the wall above the dresser. you’re awake to get ready to go to lunch with some friends in a few hours. shoko is so pretty in the picture, tight bodice and rhinestones all over. she had never been in the habit of getting into a dress with you. she preferred her skirts. well, more for you!

she’s already home by the time you return, picking up some books and left behind dishes on the coffee table. your front door flings open, shoko already hearing noises from you as you were unlocking the door.

cheeks pink from laughing, hair windblown, your sundress wrinkled from sitting too long, with a hand supporting the underside of your belly like a treasured melon. you waddle in, “hiiii, baby!” you sing from the doorway. shoko looks up from her book on the sofa, instantly softer hearing you.

there you are. her very cute, very pregnant, very hungry, and very distractable wife.

“how was your lunch?” shoko asks, eyes following you as you circle around the sofa. “amaziiing!!” you kick off your sparkly sandles and waddle over dramatically. you cuddle into her side instinctively and she can’t help but drape her arm over your side, thumb kneading your thigh.

you inhale her perfume, exhaling deeply. “i was starving! like, real bad. i almost ate the menu while waiting.” shoko laughs, shaking her head with a soft smile. “that bad?” you pout, nodding. “yes! the baby wanted lunch now.” shoko turns to face you more when you pull out your phone and begin to scroll through photos to show her.

you’d taken pictures of everything. the drinks, your friends and you at every store, insane desserts, you. then— shoko narrows her eyes at one. in one photo, clearly you were so hungry you only took a single picture, sits a massive deli sandwich in front of you.

stacked with a copious amount of bacon, a dab of lettuce, lots of tomato, and a mountain of turkey on soft bread. she looked at you slowly. “what’d you eat?” you kiss her neck, smiling proudly.

“a sandwich and fries!” ooh, you should take her out to eat there on her day off. maybe a roast beef would be good for next time! awh, the baby would be there… maybe they can recognize the sandwich scent? you need to pick the best lunch spot for your first lunch as mommies.

“what kind of sandwich?” shoko stares at you.

your smile dims, mind going totally blank.

“…turkey?” shoko exhales through her nose. you freeze up at her serious look. “what.” you really don’t remember! she can’t help but think of why she’s so in love with you again.

you sit up, resting back against the sofa. “was it hot?” she asks.

“no…” your eyes widen up in stages, every fact and every pamphlet shoko gave you for your diet coming back. “oh my god.” she can visibly see the gears in your brain turning as you recall them. “it’s okay—” she tries. “oh my god.” you repeat. “baby—”

“I ATE IT.” you clutch your sides before flailing your hands around, “i fed our baby POISON!” you had been so good at not eating things like certain cheeses or raw fish— you had forgot about deli meat. shoko catches your wrists gently to stop you from panicking, “hey. look at me.” she’s calm and steady toned, meeting your eyes.

your eyes are glossy and stinging with fresh tears. “i didn’t know.” you whisper, voice cracking at the end. shoko sighs, exhausted and so painfully in love with you. “i know.” shoko frowns.

“what do i do? i ate it!” you still can’t believe you did it after all the reminders. your wife is a doctor after all… she advises you on everything, your personal medical encyclopedia and especially now, she teaches you things constantly. “you do nothing— just breathe.” she sighs.

“but it’s inside me!” shoko giggles, shaking her head. “yes,” she says dryly, “that is how eating works.” a watery laugh escapes you, followed by immediate tears. you really don’t want to mess this up. you’re so worried that you’re behind in everything and you’ll never catch up. there’s only a few weeks left.

“i’m such a bad mom already.” that sentence makes a pit form in her stomach, feeling awful for you. shoko pulls you closer, nearly in her lap, making you lean into her side. she tucks you against her shoulder and slides a hand over your bump, rubbing slow circles against the side. “no,” she says quietly. “you’re not.”

you’re quiet, unlike yourself. “but i should’ve known…”

shoko shakes her head. “you’re learning. there’s a million and then some little rules no one memorizes overnight. it’s basically impossible.”

you sniffle sadly, “there’s too many.” shoko’s thumb traces along your ribcage back and forth automatically. she loves the warm weight of you, the sensation of kicks, your body that holds her two favorite people. you are amazing to her.

“a single sandwich won’t hurt you two. the concern is about reducing risk. you’ve ate there before and have never been sick from their food— so, you should be fine.” she explains to you, making sure you understand.

despite her explanation, you still blink through tears and hiccup pitifully. “so… the baby’s okay?” you asks, needing that extra confirmation from her. “very much okay.” shoko confirms. “promise?” you hold out your pinky finger for her and stare at her with sad eyes. “i’m a doctor.” she retorts.

you wrap your arms around her, burrowing your face into her neck. “my wife first.” you murmur possessively. shoko can’t help but smile at that. “then as your wife, i promise.”

shoko kisses the top of your head, making you melt into a puddle in her arms. “okay…” everything’s settled and your concerns have been answered— she always want you to be in the know, especially now. almost everyday, you ask her if certain things are okay for health and shoko always replies, even if she’s at work. “next time, if you want deli meat, we heat it first. or pick a hot sandwich. a panini, melt, toasted sandwich, whatever you want.” she offers.

you brighten up instantly, thinking of all the options there are for hot foods.

despite her warnings— it doesn’t stop shoko from coming home the next day to you sipping on a massive chocolate chip frappuccino with a cake pop in your other hand. cake crumbs dot your lips, grinning at your wife. caffeine was the first thing your doctor had told you about.

“oh my god!” your hands fly to your mouth, gasping. “oh my god! sho!” you realize again, shoko face palming with a big smile. your venti sized, sugar and caffeine loaded beverage is nearly gone. your lip wobbles. “i did it again!!!” she sighs.

manonism © all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or feed my writings into any ai platforms / chats to recreate.

[maybepetuniamunch]

best friend sevika teaching us how to kiss? 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

⋆★⋆ inexperienced ⋆★⋆

Bsf!sevika x reader

Part II here

“No, too short” Sevika grumbled from the bed, already bored of helping you pick out an outfit for your first date.

Throwing the black mini dress into the bed, you flop next to it defeated.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t go..”

Sevika perked up at your statement, you didn’t notice.

“Yeah, I agree”

Quickly turning your head up to face her “You’re supposed to encourage me to go out and do new things! You know, best friend duties!”

“Well-“

You cut her off

“Wait what if he goes in for a kiss? I don’t know how to kiss someone!”

Your voiced shrieked at a decibel Sevika didn’t know existed.

“Can’t believe eighteen years of your life and you have never had a kiss”

She chuckles from her spot on your bed, which is covered in pink sheets and blankets.

“Ugh, it’s just scary”

A beat passes.

“I could teach you?”

Your eyes snap to her face, trying to see if she was joking, though her face remained more serious than ever.

“Wait you’d do that for me?”

“Of course, is it not considered ‘best friend duties’?”

She sits up against your headboard, motioning with two fingers for you to move up to her.

Moving yourself onto your hands and knees you crawl over to her.

“Fuck me..” she murmurs under her breath

so quietly that you can’t hear.

Sitting back on your legs with your hands resting on your thighs, her body heat radiates off of you.

“I- I don’t know what to do”

Rolling her eyes with a smirk, she brings her hand to your cheek.

“Just follow my lead, yeah?”

You look up at her through your lashes and nod your head, nervous as fuck. The thought alone that you were about to kiss your very hot best friend makes you want to curl in on yourself, but the fact that she is so blatantly rubbing her thighs together through her sweatpants makes it even more difficult.

Sevika leans forward slightly, maintaining eye contact just in case you’re uncomfortable.

Your breath hitches when your noses brush against each other, you pull backwards just a little out of reflex. You’ve never gotten past this point, it always ended in an interruption or you chicken out.

“Hey hey, you’re okay I’ve got you” her words soothing your nerves ever so slightly, which gives you enough courage to break the gap between you two.

She kisses you like you two have done this a thousand times, like this is just a normal thing you do with her.

It feels so natural and right.

Unfortunately, the moment only lasts a second and she gently pulls away.

“Did I do okay?”

Your voice is small and soft, it makes her heart flip.

“Yes angel, you did amazing”

Your heart fluttering at her praise

The name she calls you all the time sounds different now, like it has a whole new meaning.

“Can… I try again, just to make sure?”

A small chuckle escapes her mouth

“Yes, just to make sure” she teases

Lips closing in on each other, a little bit more rough than last time, but still soft.

Her hands lands on your back, slowly trailing down to your waist and tugging you to sit on her lap.

If your panties weren’t soaked before, then they definitely are now.

A involuntary whimper leaves your mouth against her lips. You can feel her grin against you as she starts to introduce her tongue to yours.

You cling to the neckline of her shirt, dizzy from the growing pleasure in your stomach.

She releases a disappointed sigh when you part mouths.

“Is this still just you teaching me?”

“Do you want it to be just me teaching you?”

You shake your head

“Text your date and tell them you’re busy”

She laughs at how fast you reach over and grab your phone.

AN: sigh I love Sevika so much my heart hurts bruh 😔 send reqs‼️

[ocews]

౨ৎ .─── Indirectly in love with you . Daniela | A

# sum : You’re 20 and still haven’t lost your virginity, you weren’t relly the type of person to go to parties and make out with random strangers before hooking up with them. Afraid or random std’s and infections. You never really seaked out a relationship as you were more interested in helping injured animals. But what happens when your friends hire a popular person in the adult content creation for your 21st birthday?

# paring : daniela avanzini x ( masc ) fem ! reader

# warning : smut , fluff , slight angst , wuh luh wuh , cheesy comments , shy ! reader , obnoxious ! daniela , inexperienced reader , swearing .

# status : ongoing

# taglist : comment ? ( 16 . 20 ) @bandaidss320 @rinne @x-d4cvalentine-x @katseyeloversgroup @zzskullzz @danielasleftpinkytoe0471 @frosty-feet21 @kissedghoul @hexthysoul @scarly07 @jxhjxba @urwavvy @feralbamboozle @stonerax @meiyokstarr @blackrose-heartz

.─── WHOECARES? GUMMYIES ! ───.

i. virgin queen. ii . injured pets. iii . party? iv . coming soon . v . coming soon vi . coming soon .

©ocews

[tobesolxvely]

RENT-A-GIRLFRIEND

SYNOPSIS: You're tired of spending every annual trip babysitting for free, and Vi hasn't had a real vacation in years. When one desperate lie leads to a fake dating arrangement, it seems like a win-win situation. What could possibly go wrong?

WC: 12.2k+ | CW: slow burn, fake dating, "there's only one bed" tropes. use of y/n. so freaking sweet i loved it sm. r's sister can be a bit meanie sometimes.

a/n: found this story on reddit and got so inspired it pulled me out of my writer's block! i've spent like a week writing this and finished at 3:30am, but i hold this vi so so so close to my heart now

“You're not blinking again.”

You don’t even look up from your monitor. “Uh-huh.”

A chair rolls closer to your desk with a soft squeak. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch heavy boots propped carelessly against the edge of your cubicle and the flash of pink hair tied back messily today.

“Damn,” Vi says, string at you with a lopsided smile on her lips. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re a robot.”

“Maybe I am.”

“You sure speak like one.”

“Mhm.”

Vi snorts quietly beside you, spinning once in her chair before stopping herself with the heel of her boot. She’s supposed to be working too, but at some point in the last fifteen minutes she’d apparently decided bothering you was more entertaining.

You wouldn’t mind, but today you were already behind on two deadlines, your inbox was a disaster, and your family group chat had been blowing up since eight in the morning.

As if it could sense you’re on the edge of a breakdown, your phone starts buzzing across your desk.

Mia calling

You sigh dramatically before grabbing the phone. “If I collapse, avenge me by filling the coffee maker with sand.”

“Gotcha.”

Your sister’s voice takes over as soon as you answer the call. “Quick question, do you want a king-sized bed or a double bedroom?”

“…what?”

“I’m booking the rooms right now,” Mia says slowly, clearly bothered by your confusion. “So, I need to know if you’re okay with the kids sharing your bed or if you want them on a second one.”

Your fingers stop moving over the keyboard. “I’m sorry?”

“The kids, Y/N. Luca and Ana? My children?”

“No, I heard that part,” you snap. Vi glances up at the change in your tone. “Why would they be sleeping in my room?”

“I mean… they love staying with you.”

Your eye twitches slightly. Love. Yeah, right. More like you’re the unpaid babysitter every family vacation.

Last year, your nephews had been dropped off at your room every day of the trip while your sister and brother-in-law disappeared for some “alone time”. The year before that, you’d spent an entire afternoon trying to stop Ana from eating leaves while everyone else drank margaritas by the pool. And the year before that… yeah, it’s an ongoing issue.

“I’m not sharing a room with the kids.”

Mia laughs once. “Okay, you’re funny. King size, then?”

“I’m serious.”

There’s a pause. Beside you, Vi has gone suspiciously quiet.

“Well,” Mia starts, impatience creeping into her voice now. “Mom and dad are paying for your room again, so I don’t get why this would be an issue.”

Heat crawls up the back of your neck. “I never ask them to.”

“But they are. You don’t even have kids, Y/N, we want to enjoy this trip.”

Something sharp twists in your chest. Mia’s not even considering her own statement: you don’t have kids. They always expect you to drop everything and take over their parenting responsibilities while they get to have fun.

To hell with that, you are making the most out of this trip.

“I’ll pay for it myself.”

“Oh my God,” Mia laughs incredulously. “Are you for real? You’re going to spend all that money just so you don’t have to help out?”

“I’m going to spend all that money so I can actually enjoy a trip for once.”

“You’re so selfish.”

You let out one short laugh, mostly because otherwise you might scream. Luca and Ana are adorable, you love them like crazy, but the idea of spending ten days taking care of their every need while Mia and her husband can relax makes your blood boil.

You need to come up with a way they won’t end up leaving the children with you, and you need to think fast.

“Actually,” an idea pops into your head, and you sit up straighter in your chair. “I’m bringing my girlfriend this time, so I won’t be available to babysit.”

Beside you, Vi slowly lowers the pen she’s been pretending to write with. The whole conversation had caught her attention ever since you picked up the call, but girlfriend? Since when did you have a girlfriend? And why is it bothering her so much?

“Your what?” Mia repeats after a second of stunned silence.

It’s too late to take it back, so you decide to double down immediately.

“My girlfriend.”

“Since when?”

“A while.”

Mia makes a noise in half-disbelief, half-annoyance. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This is so inconvenient for Matt and me.”

“Too bad,” you clear your throat. “So, don’t book me with the kids.”

“You know what? Fine. Whatever.”

She hangs up the call, and silence crashes over the desk. You stare at your phone for a couple of seconds before slowly lowering your head into your hands.

What did you just do?

“So,” Vi says carefully from beside you. God, you had completely forgotten about her presence. “You got a girlfriend?”

“No,” your voice comes out muffled against the desk.

“Oh, good.”

Vi mentally slaps herself. Oh, good? You’re crashing out right in front of her and the only thing she can focus on is the fact that you’re still single. A wave of guilt washes through her as she realizes how relieved she feels after the confirmation.

“Family drama?” she tries to change the subject, arms crossed over her chest as she looks down at your exhausted figure.

“My family does this annual trip,” you start explaining, lifting your head only a little bit, “and somehow I always end up as my nephews’ unpaid nanny.”

Vi leans back in her chair slowly, visibly trying to process the insanity of the situation. “They just dump the kids on you?”

“Pretty much,” you gesture vaguely. “As soon as we get to the hotel, everybody needs a break. Spa, dinners, excursions— meanwhile I’m stuck stopping Ana from licking electrical outlets.”

She snorts despite herself. “Your niece did that?”

“She tried,” a smile tugs briefly at your mouth before it fades again. “And they always pull the same card. I’m single and child-free, with a lot of time in my hands, so I should help out.”

“Yeah, because clearly vacations are only meant for people with kids,” the sarcasm is clear in her voice.

“Exactly!”

Vi watches as you groan dramatically before dropping your forehead back against the desk. You look genuinely drained.

“What am I even supposed to do now?”

“You could just not go.”

“I can’t,” your voice comes quieter this time. “My mom gets sad because she wants everyone together, I can’t do that to her.”

Vi’s chest twists unexpectedly at that. You’re willing to compromise just to make your mother happy, even if it comes at the cost of actually enjoying your own vacation.

“What are you thinking of?”

“Either I rent a girlfriend or fake my own death,” you murmur. “I’m leaning toward death.”

“Reasonable.”

You finally lift your head enough to look at her properly, and Vi immediately regrets making eye contact because now she can fully see the exhaustion in your expression.

“I just wanted one vacation where I get to do what I want,” you admit quietly. “To relax, have some fun and just… enjoy myself for once.”

Vi’s chest tightens.

She knows how hard you’ve been working the last couple of months. The thought of getting a break, with not a care in the world or having to worry about anything, shouldn’t sound like an impossible fantasy for either of you.

Before she can stop herself, she mutters, “Damn. I haven’t had a real vacation in years either.”

You blink at her, and Vi immediately regrets speaking.

“Ignore me,” she says quickly, waving a hand. “I was thinking out loud.”

But you’re still staring at her.

A slow, dangerous thought begins forming behind your eyes.

“Hear me out…” you sit up straighter.

“No. I know that look and I’m scared of it.”

“You said you haven’t had a vacation in years.”

Vi narrows her eyes. “And?”

“And,” you continue, “I need a girlfriend.”

There’s a beat of silence. Somewhere across the office, a printer starts making horrible dying noises, but you keep staring at each other. There’s a determined look in your eyes, and Vi isn’t sure if she likes or dreads what you may be suggesting.

“You cannot possibly be thinking of—”

“I’ll pay for everything,” you cut in, and her eyes widen in surprise.

“What?”

“The room, food, drinks. All-inclusive fake dating experience.”

Vi laughs once in disbelief. “That’s your master plan?”

“It’s a great plan!” you clap your hands together. “You get a free luxury vacation and I get freedom from babysitting.”

“And in exchange I have to pretend to be in love with you for, what, a week or two?”

Heat creeps instantly up your neck. “It sounds weird if you say it like that.”

“It is weird.”

“Please, Vi.”

Vi should say no. She knows she should say no.

You’re coworkers. Barely even friends, at most. Sure, sometimes you grab lunch together or a couple of drinks after shifts, and maybe the flirting has gotten a little out of hand lately, but agreeing to go on a family vacation together and pretending to date is… a bad idea.

“You’d really pay for everything?” she asks carefully.

It’s a truly terrible idea. She shouldn’t even be considering it, especially with how the small crush she has on you has evolved into a massive one over the last couple of weeks.

You nod immediately. “I swear.”

Vi hums, pretending to think harder than she actually needs to.

The idea of spending two weeks beside you makes her brain short-circuit over and over again. Dinner with your family, being together every waking moment, sharing a room—

It’s a dangerous move.

“Scale of one to ten, how convincing do we have to be?” Vi props her chin against her fist. “Like full romcom?”

You stare at her for a second too long, and Vi grins to hide how nervous she is inside.

What are you two getting into?

“Okay, don’t forget the—,” you stop yourself, brows furrowing as you realize Vi’s not even looking your way. “Violet! Are you even listening?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re not. And stop smiling so much.”

Vi glances over at you as the two of you step through the airport entrance, sunglasses pushed up into her pink hair and travel bag hanging lazily from one shoulder.

“I’m excited for my free vacation.”

“I need you to focus,” you mutter, adjusting the grip on your suitcase. “My mom’s a hugger, my dad’s obsessed with music, and if Mia starts talking about essential oils just nod and smile.”

Vi snorts. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t let Ana convince you she’s allowed to drink soda after eight… and no, she can’t join you at the Casino no matter how good she is at Blackjack.”

“That kid sounds cool.”

“She’s terrifying.”

Vi laughs quietly beside you. She’s far too relaxed for someone who will pretend to date her coworker in front of her entire family for ten days. You, on the other end, feel one minor inconvenience away from throwing up.

You risk another glance at her and immediately regret it.

She’s wearing a loose black tank top, tattoos fully visible and insanely looking beneath the airport lighting.  It’s like she had walked straight out of some annoying vacation ad, rings glinting every time she adjusts her grip on her duffel bag, looking so attractive and—

God. This was a more-than-terrible idea.

“You’re doing it again,” Vi says suddenly, and you blink in confusion.

“What?”

She points at you with a mischievous smile on her lips. “Your eyebrows scrunch together when you’re spiraling.”

“They do not.”

“They absolutely do.”

You groan softly, dragging a hand down your face. “I just… I need this trip to go well.”

“It will.”

“You don’t know my family.”

“I don’t,” Vi agrees, glancing back at you. “But I know you.”

The words hit harder than they probably should. Around you, the airport buzzes with overlapping announcements and chatter, but your brain feels weirdly narrowed in on the way Vi is looking at you.

She studies your expression for a moment. Slightly furrowed eyebrows and lower lip slightly pumped with how hard you’ve been biting at it minutes ago, nervousness clear in all your features.

Vi bumps her shoulder lightly against yours, holding out her hand toward you. “We got this, sweetheart.”

You stare at it for a second too long, and she notices immediately.

“Gotta play the part.”

“Oh,” you clear your throat, “Yeah.”

After one more second of hesitation, you slide your hand into hers. Warm fingers immediately lace between yours naturally, like this is something you’ve done a hundred times before.

Vi’s mouth twitches up as your breath catches embarrassingly hard, and her thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles. She tries to convince herself she does it to play the perfect performance, obviously.

The two of you make your way through the busy terminal together. Heat crawls violently up your neck as you spot your gate number overhead. God, Vi’s already got you all flustered and you haven’t even introduced her to your family yet.

“There they are!” your mom’s voice rings out across the terminal before your brain can spiral any further.

A small group stands near the gate with stacked luggage and coffee cups in hand. Your dad’s waving enthusiastically already, your mom already walking over to you with a wide grin on her face. Luca and Ana are sitting on the floor, both of them playing on their iPads, while Matt, their dad, stands a couple of feet away from everyone.

Mia glances up at the commotion, eyes squinting the second she spots you. Her eyes land on Vi, and she lets out an exasperated groan before looking down at her own phone.

“Oh, you made it,” your mom says warmly, pulling you into a quick one-armed hug before immediately turning toward Vi.

Her expression lights up immediately.

“She’s gorgeous!”

Vi’s taken aback as your mom pulls her into a tight hug before she can even properly introduce herself. Her chest tightens, surely because your mom is holding her so warmly. It has nothing to do with you having let go of her hand when she was just getting used to it.

“You didn’t tell me your girlfriend was this pretty,” your mom mutters, still holding onto Vi’s shoulders as she looks her over delightedly.

“Mom,” you mumble weakly, face burning up.

Vi bites down hard on a grin before she hugs your mom back. You shoot her a warning look immediately.

“Hi,” Vi recovers quickly enough to flash your mom one of her stupidly charming smiles as soon as she pulls away, “It’s really nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Oh, sweetie, call me Eve.”

Your dad appears next, pulling you into a quick hug before looking at Vi with open curiosity.

“So, you’re the mysterious girlfriend.”

“Mysterious?”

“She was keeping you a secret,” he says dramatically, pointing accusingly at you. “We didn’t know you existed until, like, three weeks ago.”

“Is that so?” Vi turns to look at you.

“I— Uh, sorry, babe,” the nickname feels weird on your mouth, but you notice the amusement in Vi’s expression as soon as it comes out.

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.”

The smugness in her voice makes your eye twitch.

Meanwhile, Mia still hasn’t moved from where she’s sitting, though she is very obviously listening now despite pretending to scroll through her phone. Matt gives Vi a polite nod, and Luca is the first to actually look up from his iPad.

He elbows Ana, who gasps loudly enough to scare everyone around her.

“AUNTIE Y/N, IS THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND?”

“Yes,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes briefly. “Ana, please be nice.”

Ana ignores you completely, immediately scrambling to her feet and running over. Vi barely has time to react before your niece stops directly in front of her, staring up with open fascination.

“You have pink hair!”

“I do.”

“That’s so freaking cool.”

“Thanks,” Vi shoots her a warm smile. The kid reminds her of Powder when she was little.

Ana narrows her eyes thoughtfully. “Could you beat my aunt on a fight?”

Vi glances sideways at you.

You sigh. “Don’t encourage her.”

“I could take her,” Vi says confidently.

Luca finally wanders over too, quieter than his sister but equally curious. He hugs your leg, peering at Vi as you gently stroke his hair.

“You’re really Auntie Y/N’s girlfriend?”

Your stomach twists unexpectedly at the question. Beside you, Vi’s fingers brush lightly against yours again. She hesitates for a moment before fully taking your hand back into hers.

This is something she could absolutely get used to.

“I am.”

Ana immediately beams. “Cool. Mom said you were probably fake.”

“Mia!” your mom snaps, turning to look at her with furrowed brows.

“What?” your sister calls from across the waiting area, not even looking up from her phone. “I said probably.”

You stare at the floor in horror as your mom starts scolding your sister, your nephews trying to get Vi’s attention, your brother-in-law busy in his own world. How are you going to survive ten days of this?

Beside you, Vi starts laughing. “Oh, I’m gonna love this trip.”

By the time the two of you finally make it to the resort, you’re pretty sure you’ve aged at least five years. Between Ana asking Vi two hundred questions during the flight, your mom wanting to know every detail of your relationship, and Mia watching the two of you like she was waiting for you to spontaneously combust, your brain feels dangerously close to shutting down.

The hotel room door clicks open, and you step inside.

“Shit,” you stop dead on your track.

Vi walks in behind you, following your line of sight toward the massive king-sized bed sitting in the middle of the room.

“Ooh, nice.”

You turn slowly. “Nice?”

“What?” Vi shrugs innocently, acting as if her heart isn’t about to burst out from her chest with how fast it’s beating. “I’ve never slept on a bed this huge and comfortable before.”

And next to you, she keeps that part to herself.

Your suitcase drops beside the couch with a dull thud as you drag both hands down your face dramatically.

“Of course they would get us one bed, we’re a couple,” you let out a humorless chuckle. “This is a disaster.”

“Oh, relax,” Vi kicks the door shut behind her before wandering farther into the room. “I don’t drool in my sleep, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You flop backward onto the mattress with a groan instead of answering. The bed is very soft, and you wonder if Vi’s strong arms are just as soft or—

“This is all your fault somehow,” you mumble into one of the pillows, cheeks warming up as you try to ignore your own thoughts.

Vi laughs quietly as she starts unpacking some of her stuff onto the dresser.

“You’re the one who hired me, babe,” she tests out the nickname, humming in satisfaction. “So, are you a drooler?”

You throw a pillow at her head, and she catches it easily. A smile tugs at your lips before you can stop it.

“Seriously though,” Vi’s voice is softer now, and you look away as soon as she turns toward you. “You okay?”

You stare up at the ceiling for a second too long. “…I don’t know.”

That wipes some of the teasing from her expression immediately.

“The trip just…” You exhale slowly. “It always turns into a mess somehow. Now we’re lying to my entirely family, Mia already thinks we’re fake, and—”

You turn your head slightly to look at her.

“And I dragged you into it.”

“Please,” she gestures around the room, a wide grin taking over her expression. “I’m at a beach resort for free. I’m thriving.”

Despite yourself, a small laugh escapes you. Vi’s chest tightens at the sound, and she can’t help but follow suit.

“There she is.”

Before she can figure out what to do with that feeling, a knock suddenly interrupts the moment.

Vi glances toward the door. “Are we expecting someone?”

“No?”

There’s another knock. You freeze instantly, sitting up straighter on the bed, as Vi crosses the room.

“Vi, wait—”

It’s too late. Vi swings the door open, her body positioned perfectly so whoever is standing outside of your room can’t peek inside.

“Oh,” Mia seems surprised, clearly having expected to see you instead of Vi. “Is Y/N here?”

Vi glances back toward the bed where you’re still half-sprawled against the blankets. She noticed your sister holding one of the kid’s backpacks, so she needs to think fast on how to get you out of an unexpected babysitting job on your first day of vacation.

“She’s asleep,” she says easily. “What’s up?”

Mia sighs dramatically. “Matt and I wanted to go try that seafood place down the beach tonight. We were wondering if Ana and Luca could stay here.”

Of course this is happening already. Not even your fake girlfriend, the one your family doesn’t even know is fake, will work on your sister.

You start moving instinctively, ready to say yes before the argument even starts, when Vi speaks again.

“Oh, shoot. Sorry, we already made dinner plans.”

You blink in confusion, but your movements halt altogether.

Mia frowns immediately. “I thought you said Y/N’s asleep.”

“Yeah,” Vi leans casually against the doorframe without missing a beat. “She’s resting before we head out later. Long flight, y’know?”

There’s a tiny pause. There’s no way she’s giving up, she will talk Vi’s ear off until she eventually agrees and—

“I’m probably gonna nap too,” Vi adds with an easy smile. “Anything else I can help with?”

You stare at the back of her head in disbelief.

Mia looks annoyed for exactly half a second before forcing a tight smile. “Right. Okay.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” Vi offers politely.

“Sure.”

There’s another awkward pause before your sister finally turns and walks away down the hallway. Vi lets out a long whistle as she shuts the hotel room door again, slowly turning around to face you.

You’re staring at her with widened eyes, still frozen on the bed.

“…what?”

“You said no.”

“Yeah.”

“To Mia.”

Via blinks once, confusion clear in her gaze. “Did you want me to say yes?”

“No, but—” you stop, genuinely thrown off. She had made it look so easy. “You actually said no.”

Vi’s expression softens slightly with understanding. She walks toward the bed slowly, brows furrowing in concern as she takes in how puzzled you look.

“You said you wanted one vacation where you finally get to have some peace, right?” she says, and your chest tightens painfully at the gentleness in her voice. “I’ll take care of it. All you have to do is relax.”

She sits down next to you, and you only stare at her for a moment. Nobody’s ever stepped in before you had to, so it’s nice to know what it feels like to have somebody on your side.

Vi nudges your knee lightly with hers, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“Now,” she starts, lighter again, “since I accidentally committed to fake dinner plans…”

You let out a chuckle. The sound makes Vi’s heart skip a beat, and she feels relieved now that she sees you let your walls down.

“Wanna go get actual dinner?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” a grin spreads slowly across her face. “If I’m pretending to be your girlfriend, I expect at least one expensive dinner out of this arrangement.”

You roll your eyes, though the warmth through your chest makes it hard to put any real annoyance behind it.

“Give me twenty minutes,” you stand up, grabbing your suitcase and heading toward the bathroom.

“Take thirty,” she mumbles, reaching out for her duffel bag. “I gotta make myself look hot enough to impress your family, just in case we bump into them at the lobby.”

“Please. You already captivated my mother by existing.”

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You snort softly before disappearing into the bathroom. The second the door clicks shut behind you, you lean heavily against the sink.

It’s okay, you can do this. It’s just Vi. You’re very attractive coworker who’s pretending to be your girlfriend and keeps calling you sweetheart. No problem at all.

You splash some water onto your face before starting to get ready.

By the time you finish changing into a light outfit more suited for the warm beach air, your nerves have settled at least a little. That confidence lasts just until you open the bathroom door and walk directly into a problem: Vi standing beside the bed with her back partially turned toward you, shirtless and half-ready.

Broad shoulders, tattooed back and low-slung linen pants hanging dangerously from her hips while she digs through her suitcase looking for another shirt. The view alone makes your brain stop functioning.

“Oh,” you blurt out.

Vi glances over her shoulder, and now it’s her the one who’s short-circuiting.

You look unfairly good. Your hair’s still slightly damp from fixing it, you’re wearing softer and more relaxed clothes than what she’s used to seeing at work, your skin warm beneath the hotel lights.

“Sorry,” you close your eyes dramatically, turning your back toward her to give her some privacy.

Vi finally pulls on a dark short-sleeved button up, leaving the first few buttons undone casually before running a hand through her hair.

“’S fine,” she clears her throat. “You ready?”

“Yep,” you answer way too quickly.

“Cool,” Vi grabs the room key before holding the door open dramatically for you. You finally take a good look at her, and your heart skips embarrassingly hard again. “After you, sweetheart.”

God help you.

Dinner turns out surprisingly nice. The restaurant sits right on the beach, warm lantern lights reflecting softly against the ocean while waves crash quietly somewhere beyond the patio.

For the first time all day, you feel at ease. There’s no family drama, no need to pretend for an audience, no pressure at all. Just you and Vi sitting across from each other, sharing appetizers and teasing each other over overpriced resort drinks.

“Wait, wait,” Vi stares at you in disbelief, a mischievous glint on her eye. “You got banned from laser tag?”

“The employee was being dramatic.”

“You climbed into the ceiling vents.”

“I was twelve!”

“Nah,” she shakes her head in fake disappointment, “That’s way too old to think you’re freaking Spider-Man.”

You laugh loudly enough that a couple nearby glances over, and Vi’s chest tightens unexpectedly at the sound. She likes making you laugh, maybe a little too much.

The conversation flows strangely easily after that. So far, Vi has picked up on a couple of cues: you hum absentmindedly while reading menus, steal fries without asking and how your eyes crinkle when you laugh hard enough. You’re so much softer outside of work, and she can’t have enough of this version of you already.

You learn how much she hates sunscreen and how instantly she burns, and how badly she wanted a motorcycle at sixteen. You’ve also learned she’s never actually traveled outside of the country before, which popped the idea of going on a different vacation sometime in the future. If the fake-girlfriend gig is still needed, of course.

By the time the two of you walk back toward the hotel, the earlier tension has melted into a warmer feeling.

“I’m showering first,” you mumble tiredly as soon as you step inside the room, already grabbing pajamas from your bag.

“Be my guest.”

The warm water helps wash away the exhaustion from the flight and the emotional chaos of the day. Sleep is already dragging heavily at your limbs as you finish changing into an oversized shirt and shorts.

Vi’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through her phone when you walk out. Her eyes lift immediately and soften as she notices how sleepy you look. And cute, but she tries to shake the thought off her mind.

“You’re falling asleep standing up,” she mutters, shooting you a soft smile.

You yawn in response, proving her point instantly.

“Bed’s all yours for now,” she says, standing up and grabbing her own clothes.

You mumble something vaguely coherent before crawling beneath the blankets, the mattress sinking warmly around you almost immediately.

You try waiting up for Vi, you really do. But between hearing the bathroom water start running and the exhaustion finally catching up to you, your eyes drift shut.

When Vi steps out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later, with a towel hanging loosely around her neck, the room is quiet.

A small smile tugs at her mouth before she can stop it as she takes you in. The steady rise and fall of your breathing, the softness in your expression, how you’ve somehow managed to steal almost the entire blanket already.

Vi stands there for a moment longer than necessary, just looking at you curled up comfortably against the pillows. A warm, very familiar feeling settles in her chest, and it almost scares her.

Quietly, she grabs one of the spare blankets from the closet and tosses it onto the couch. She doesn’t want to risk waking you up after the day you’ve had, nor letting that uncomfortable feeling keep growing stronger.

Besides, the couch can’t even be that bad.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that the bed is empty. Your brows furrow, squinting at the sunlight already pouring through the curtains.

“Vi?”

There’s no answer. Still half-asleep, you sit up slowly, hair a mess and shirt slipping off one shoulder as you look around the room properly. No Vi in the bathroom or balcony, you’d almost think everything was part of a livid dream if it weren’t for her suitcase on the room.

You grab your phone, quickly opening up your chat with her to see if there’s any unread messages. None at all.

you: where are you??

Your phone buzzes almost immediately, and you let out a disappointed groan as you realize the notification comes from the family group chat.

mom💕: Breakfast buffet downstairs!! 🍽 Everyone come join us 😋🙏

Attached beneath it is a blurry picture of your dad holding three plates of pastries for absolutely no reason. Most probably, one for your mom and two for him— you place a mental note on speaking to him about lowering his sugar intake.

You glance around the room again, and your stomach twists lightly. Family breakfast, and Vi is nowhere to be found.

you: vi are you alive?

After a couple of more unanswered texts, you hurry through getting ready, brushing your teeth in record time before changing into something casual. The entire time, your phone stays suspiciously silent.

By the time you leave the room, mild worry has started creeping into your chest. What if she got lost? What if she decided this was too much to deal with and took a plane back home? Oh God, what if Ana found her and challenged her to hand-to-hand combat?

You pull your phone again as soon as you walk out of the elevator, walking through the hotel lobby and calling Vi before you can overthink it over.

You look up, line ringing just as you spot her sitting at one of the outdoor tables near the restaurant windows, sunglasses perched on top of her head while she leans comfortably back in her chair. She’s already having breakfast… with your parents.

Your dad’s mid-conversation with her already, and your mom looks delighted. You hadn’t realized she had picked up the call until her voice hits your ear.

“Hey, baby.”

She looks toward the elevators, face brightening as she makes eye contact with you.

“There you are,” she lifts her free arm to wave you over lazily. “C’mere.”

You hang up quickly before approaching the table, trying very hard to ignore the fact that your heartbeat has suddenly piked up. This is deeply embarrassing.

“Well, good morning,” your mom greets you the second you reach them. “Look who finally decided to wake up.”

“She was exhausted yesterday,” Vi hops in before you can answer.

Your mom’s expression softens immediately. “Aw.”

You stare at Vi, who shoots you an innocent smile before taking a sip of her coffee. The morning sunlight catches against her, warming the sharp lines of her face. She looks completely at home sitting there beside your parents, one arm draped lazily over the back of her chair.

God, she’s doing it on purpose.

Well. Two can play this game.

You put on the sweetest smile you can manage, leaning down before your brain can stop you and pressing a quick kiss against Vi’s cheek as you slide into the seat beside her. The contact lasts barely a second— warm skin, faint traces of her perfume and the surprise inhale she takes beside you.

She freezes instantly, subtle enough that your parents probably don’t notice. Her shoulders tense for half a heartbeat, and a faint flush spreads across the tops of her cheeks almost immediately, pink dusting over her face and disappearing beneath the collar of her shirt.

Your own stomach flips violently at the realization that you caused that.

Your mom watches the interaction with undisguised excitement.

“You two are adorable.”

Heat floods instantly to your face. Vi clears her throat, trying to recover from whatever just happened to her mere seconds ago.

“You know, Vi,” your mom continues, leaning toward her conspiratorially, “she’s never brought anyone on these trips before, so you must be super special.”

“Mom,” you give her a warning look.

“What? It’s true!”

Vi glances at you with obvious amusement, far too pleased with herself. “Really?”

“Please ignore her.”

“Oh, I could never.”

You groan softly, dropping your forehead briefly against Vi’s shoulder in defeat before realizing what you just did. Slowly, you lift your head, a faint pink tint dusting across your cheeks now, too.

Cute, Vi thinks to herself. Very cute.

Before either of you can say anything else, more voices approach the table. Mia and Matt arrive with the kids trailing behind them, both looking significantly less awake than everyone else.

Ana spots Vi instantly.

“YOU LEFT WITHOUT SAYING GOOD NIGHT.”

Several nearby tables glance over, and Vi lets out a low chuckle.

“Inside voice, kiddo.”

Ana ignores that completely before climbing into the chair beside her, grabbing a waffle from your dad’s plate. Luca quickly comes running toward you, settling down on your lap as he gives you a gentle hug.

“Well,” Mia reaches for coffee, eyes flicking between you and Vi briefly, “Matt and I are gonna have breakfast and then head down to the beach for a while.”

Your stomach tightens instinctively, and you prep yourself for what’s about to come.

“So, you guys can take the kids after this.”

The words hit automatically enough that you already open your mouth to answer.

“Sure, we can—”

“Actually,” Vi cuts in smoothly before you can finish, “we already have plans for this morning.”

Mia blinks once, grabbing the mug strongly. “Oh.”

Vi smiles apologetically. “Maybe we could take them around noon instead?”

Ana gasps instantly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Vi nudges her slightly with her shoulder. “There’s an arcade place near the pools. We gotta check it out.”

Your niece looks ready to explode from excitement, even Luca perks up immediately. Meanwhile, Mia’s expression flickers through several emotions at once: annoyance, calculation and, finally, reluctant satisfaction.

“Noon works for us.”

By the time the sun starts setting, both kids are half-dead with exhaustion.

Ana had spent an hour trying to beat Vi at air hockey and losing spectacularly every single time, while Luca had attached himself to your side for most of the afternoon after winning an absurd amount of tickets at the arcade. They had eaten as much pizza as they could, and honestly? It had been incredibly fun.

Which explains why you’re smiling when the four of you stop outside Mia and Matt’s hotel room later that evening.

Ana groans dramatically the second the door opens.

“I don’t wanna leave.”

“Had fun?” Mia asks, stepping aside to let the kids in.

“So much fun,” Luca steps inside, stopping only to wave goodbye at Vi and you before heading toward the bed.

Matt is sitting on the couch, looking significantly more relaxed than in the morning, currently holding a takeout drink and wearing swim trunks. Mia’s gaze flicks between you and Vi before settling somewhere closer to neutral than annoyed for the first time during the trip.

“Thanks for taking them,” she almost sounds surprised by her own sincerity.

Vi shrugs, ruffling Ana’s hair. “They’re cool.”

The little girl beams instantly at that before running into the room. “We’re playing Mario Kart tomorrow!”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Vi calls after her. “You play dirty!”

“I learned from my aunt!”

“Ah, that explains a lot.”

You snort softly beside her, elbowing her playfully. Mia watches the interaction for a moment, an unreadable expression crossing her face before she finally shakes her head.

“Goodnight, guys.”

“Night, sis.”

The door clicks shut behind her, and the hallway feels much quieter almost immediately.

You and Vi start walking toward your room side by side, shoulders brushing every now and then as you move through the warmly lit corridor. As soon as the two of you walk into the room, Vi kicks off her shoes with a relieved groan.

“I think I’ll need a foot transplant.”

“Geez, you’re so dramatic.”

“And yet you still like me.”

The words slip out so casually that neither of you reacts at first.

Then, it hits. Vi’s breath catches almost imperceptibly as her own sentence registers in her brain, eyes widening just slightly before she looks away too fast to make it seem natural. Shit.

Your stomach flips because the worst part is that your first instinct isn’t to deny it. A warm rush spreads through your chest at hearing her say it so naturally, and the room suddenly feels smaller, warmer, quieter.

You become painfully aware of the sound of the air conditioner humming softly, the lingering warmth where your shoulders brushed, the way Vi’s hair is still messy from playing with the kids in the afternoon.

Vi clears her throat first, rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck.

“I mean,” her voice comes out rougher than expected, “as a person. Obviously.”

You swallow once, pulse thudding embarrassingly hard against your ribs.

“Obviously,” you echo, hoping your voice sounds steadier than you feel.

To save yourself from further humiliation, you disappear into the bathroom to get changed. When you come back out a few minutes later, Vi’s sitting at the edge of the bed scrolling through her phone.

She glances up as soon as she hears the bathroom door opening, and there’s that soft look again. The one that keeps catching you off guard.

“What?” you ask suspiciously.

“Nothing.”

It’s just you look so fucking adorable. Of course she can’t tell you that.

You climb onto the bed beside her, exhaustion finally starting to settle heavily into your bones after the long day. For a moment, neither of you says anything.

“…thanks.”

Vi looks over at you, brows furrowing in confusion.

“For today,” you explain, fiddling absentmindedly with the edge of the blanket. “For helping with Mia, the kids and… for everything.”

Her expression softens almost painfully. “You don’t gotta thank me for that.”

“Still,” you glance toward her. “You’ve made this trip a lot easier.”

Vi holds your gaze for a second too long before looking away with a small shrug. She hopes you didn’t notice her ears burning up with every word that left your mouth.

“Nah,” she mumbles lightly, though there’s warmth tucked underneath the words. “I like hanging out with you.”

By day five, at some point between shared breakfasts, late-night conversations, and Vi instinctively reaching for your hand even when your family was nowhere to be seen, pretending starts feeling dangerously easy.

You don’t even think twice when Vi lazily hooks her arm around your shoulders while the group walks through the marina that afternoon. Tourists move around the dock taking pictures of the ocean and nearby cliffs. Warm sunlight glitters against the water, salt lingering in the air every time the breeze rolls through.

Your dad is already taking approximately a thousand photos of everything. Your mom keeps stopping to point out cute spots around the harbor. Ana’s currently holding onto your hand, trying to convince you to buy matching shark keychains. And Luca, surprisingly, is sitting comfortably on Vi’s shoulders while she walks.

You stare at them for a second longer than necessary, because Luca doesn’t do that. It takes him forever to warm up to people. He barely lets relatives hug him half the time, usually glued to your side whenever he gets overwhelmed.

But now? He’s sitting happily above Vi with both little hands tangled in her pink hair while she complains loudly about becoming a “human playground”.

“She’s too tall, Auntie Y/N,” Luca says seriously from above.

“You hear that?” Vi looks at you in betrayal. “I risk carrying him around and he says that about me?”

“You’re right, I’ll fix it,” you nod, looking up at your nephew. “Luca, she’s not even that tall.”

She lets out a scoff, shaking her head with fake indignation. “This is the respect I get?”

You snort softly beside her, and the sound makes Vi glance sideways at you automatically. There it is again, that warm feeling in her chest every time she makes you laugh. It catches her off guard every single time.

The soft crinkle near your eyes, the way your shoulders relax when you’re genuinely amused, the quiet laugh you try to hold back and always fail to. Somehow, all of it has started feeling addicting. It’s dangerous, because Vi has realized she’d do almost anything to keep hearing that sound.

“Oh!” your mom suddenly exclaims from a few steps ahead. “How lovely!”

A small photography stand has been set up near the dock entrance, decorated with simple vacation photos in island-themed frames and plastic keychains shaped like hearts and palm trees.

One of the photographers waves enthusiastically the second he spots your group approaching.

“Family pictures! We make keychains too!”

Your mom gasps like she’s just discovered treasure. “We absolutely need those.”

Your dad is already pulling out his wallet before anyone even agrees. Within seconds, everyone’s getting shuffled toward the little backdrop while the photographer starts enthusiastically positioning all of you around.

“Okay, whole family first!”

Instinctively, Vi takes a small step backward.

“Oh, I’ll just—” she gestures vaguely behind her, already starting to move away. “I’ll let you guys have the family one.”

Before she can fully step out, your mom grabs her wrist gently.

“Honey,” she says warmly, looking genuinely confused by the suggestion. “Nonsense. You are part of the family.”

Vi stills, and the noise around the dock feels strangely distant for half a second.

Part of the family.

The words hit deep in her chest unexpectedly hard. There’s no teasing tone in your mom’s voice, she actually means it.

Vi glances you toward you automatically, and softness flickers across your expression when you realize how affected she looks by the comment.

“C’mon,” you murmur gently. “Get over here.”

She lets herself be tugged into place beside you.

And for some reason, standing there with your family crowded around her —your dad already complaining about camera angles, Ana trying to make bunny ears behind her dad’s head, Luca clutching your hand— feels incredibly nice.

The camera flashes several times while everyone laughs through increasingly chaotic poses. Then come the individual photos.

Your parents insist on taking one together, your dad kissing your mom’s cheek dramatically enough to make her laugh so hard she nearly ruins the picture. Ana poses like a tiny celebrity for hers.

Luca hides behind your leg for the first two attempts until Vi crouches beside him and quietly promises they can make “the weirdest face possible” together. The resulting photo is terrible, but you immediately declare it your favorite.

Then Mia and Matt take theirs, with your sister grabbing her husband’s face and giving him a kiss that makes both kids gag in horror.

Your mom turns toward you and Vi again. “You two need your own set now.”

“Oh, it’s not—”

“But it is,” your mom cuts you in, already pushing you two in front of the camera. “You barely have any photos together!”

Ana gasps loudly. “They gotta kiss like everyone else!”

Your entire body heats instantly. Beside you, Vi goes suspiciously quiet again.

“Ana…”

“What? Couples kiss!”

“Fair point,” your dad agrees, unfortunately for the two of you.

Vi slowly steps closer beside you while Luca wanders back toward Mia, already distracted by something else near the dock. Your pulse starts hammering harder the second Vi’s hand settles carefully against your back.

“You don’t have to,” she mutters under her breath, barely audible beneath the chatter around you.

Somehow that makes it infinitely worse, because she’s giving you a choice. Because you can tell she’s nervous, too. And because some reckless part of you wants to know what kissing Vi actually feels like.

Your arm slips around her shoulders automatically, fingertips brushing lightly against the warm skin at the back of her neck.

“It’s okay,” you whisper back before you can overthink it.

Vi inhales softly. Then, slowly and carefully, you lean in.

The kiss is gentle, tentative at first. Her brain is short-circuiting and is barely registering what it’s actually happening— your warm lips, the salty air, the way your hand tightens unconsciously against her shoulder.

Then she kisses you back more firmly. It’s still soft and brief, but it’s enough to send heat rushing violently through your entire body. Your stomach flips so hard it’s almost dizzying.

The camera flashes.

“Awww!”

“EWWW,” Ana yells at the exact same time.

You and Vi pull apart a little too quickly, both visibly flustered now. She clears her throat hard, suddenly very interested in the boats behind you while a faint pink flush spreads across her cheeks.

You can still feel the ghost of her lips against yours, and judging by the way Vi keeps avoiding your eyes, she can too.

The room is quiet when you step out of the bathroom later that night, steam still clinging faintly to your skin as you rub a towel through your damp hair.

For a second, you think Vi’s already asleep. Then, you properly look around the room and blink, puzzled as you find her settled on the couch.

“Vi?”

She glances up immediately, one arm tucked behind her head while the hotel TV plays some low-volume reality show in the background.

“Sup?”

“Why are you sleeping there?”

She pauses, genuinely not expecting that question. Suddenly, several things click together in your brain at once— the spare blanket disappearing from the closet, the couch pillows always being slightly out of place every morning, the fact that every single night you’d fallen asleep first and every single morning Vi’s the first one to wake up.

“Oh my God,” you mumble, horrified. “Have you been sleeping on the couch this whole time?”

Vi rubs awkwardly at the back of her neck. “Um, yeah.”

“Vi, that couch is tiny.”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

You smack your own forehead in disbelief. “How did I not realize?”

“You’re usually unconscious by the time I’m ready for bed,” a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“Still! You should’ve said something.”

“Meh, it wasn’t a big deal.”

You take another good look at the couch, and realize it absolutely is a big deal. One of Vi’s legs is literally hanging off the edge.

“You’re not sleeping there anymore,” you decide immediately.

“What?”

“Come sleep in the bed.”

The words leave your mouth with significantly more confidence than you actually feel. Now that it’s out there, your brain starts catching up with the implications.

Vi’s eyes flick toward the mattress briefly before landing back on you. There’s a faint pink tint creeping across her cheeks again. Huh, you’re kind of loving this look on her.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you answer quickly. “Like… c’mon. We can survive sharing a bed.”

Vi huffs out a quiet laugh, nervousness hidden underneath it.

You climb beneath the blankets first, mostly because you need somewhere to put your face for a moment while your heartbeat completely loses it. A minute later, the mattress dips carefully beside you. Immediately, every nerve in your body becomes hyperaware.

“So,” Vi starts, speaking in a low voice. “That was a convincing kiss, wasn’t it?”

Oh, you’re going to pass away.

“Shut up,” your entire face burns.

She laughs softly again, and the sound settles strangely deep in your chest.

“It was still nice,” she admits quietly, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating.

You turn your head slightly before you can stop yourself, and find Vi already looking at you. She’s close enough that you can make out the softer details of her face beneath the dim bedside lamp— sleepy eyes, messy pink hair, the faint flush still lingering across her cheeks.

“You’re a jerk, anyone ever tell you that?” you whisper back, the air between you dangerously delicate.

“Yeah, you. All the time.”

Eventually, exhaustion catches up to both of you. The conversation fades into softer teasing and slower replies, until neither of you can keep your eyes open anymore.

Several hours later, morning sunlight spills warmly across the bed when you start waking up. At first, all you register is warmth, but soon comes the weight. And then, a heartbeat.

Your eyes blink open slowly, and immediately widen. At some point during the night, you and Vi had ended up tangled together. Your face is buried against her chest, one of her arms is wrapped securely around your waist, and your leg is halfway thrown over hers.

She’s still asleep, holding you instinctively closer every couple of breaths. Your heart stumbles violently against your chest, and you try to shift around slowly as to not wake her up.

As if sensing movement, Vi shifts slightly against you with a sleepy groan. Her arm tightens unconsciously around your waist, and her face presses softly into your hair.

The breath leaves your lungs entirely. She’s so warm, and you can feel the way her fingers curl against your side like she’s scared you’ll drift away.

This is a bad, bad, bad idea.

Instead of pulling away immediately like any other person would, your first instinct is to melt closer just for another second. Vi makes another quiet sound in her sleep, brows furrowing faintly before relaxing again when you stop moving.

Then slowly, very slowly, Vi starts waking up too. You feel it happen in real time: the sleepy shift of her breathing, her hand flexing once against your waist, the gradual tension returning to her body as awareness kicks in.

“Oh,” her voice comes out rough with sleep, barely above a whisper. “Hi.”

You squeeze your eyes shut briefly. “Hi.”

Morning sunlight spills across the sheets, warming the bed around you while the air conditioner hums in the background. Somewhere outside, muffled voices and distant ocean waves drift up from the beach below.

But all Vi can focus on is you.

You’re still tucked impossibly close against her chest, hair messy from sleep, face warm from embarrassment, and Vi feels the strong impulse to kiss you again. She’s pretty sure this trip might actually kill her.

She swallows once, pulse thudding loudly against her throat.

“Did you drool on me?” she murmurs weakly, clearly grasping for literally anything to say.

Your head snaps up immediately. “I did not!”

Vi lets out a sleepy laugh, low and warm beneath you. The sound vibrates through her chest straight into your ribs, and your entire body heats instantly.

One of your hands is resting against her stomach, your knee is tangled between hers, and neither of you has made any real effort to move away yet. The realization hits you at once, and you scramble backward immediately.

The blankets tangle around your legs, nearly sending you straight off the mattress before Vi catches your wrist on instinct.

“Careful!” her hand wraps around yours automatically, pulling you back.

She releases you a second later, only after making sure you’re not about to throw yourself off the bed by accident, clearing her throat roughly before sitting up too quickly.

“Right,” she mumbles, dragging a hand through her already messy hair. “So, breakfast in thirty minutes?”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you looks at the other as you stand up to get ready, which would probably work better if both your heartbeats weren’t still absolutely out of control.

The restaurant buzzes softly with warm evening chatter, and somewhere nearby, someone laughs loudly enough to make Ana giggle. Lantern lights cast everything in soft gold while the ocean glimmers darkly beyond the railing.

By now, sitting beside Vi feels so natural you don’t even think about it anymore.

Your knee presses lightly against hers beneath the table while everyone looks over menus and talks over each other. Luca’s half-asleep against Vi’s side already, curled into her arm after spending the entire afternoon attached to her hip.

“You spoil them too much,” Mia mutters, though there’s far less bite to it than there used to be.

Vi looks genuinely offended. “Excuse you. I’m their favorite now.”

Ana claps happily from across the table. “You are!”

“Traitor,” you stuck your tongue out at her.

“Auntie Vi got me extra fries.”

Vi stills for the smallest fraction of a second, the nickname landing somewhere deep in her chest before she could prepare for it.

Warmth spreads through her so suddenly it almost catches her off guard. She’s been called a lot of things in her life —some affectionate, some definitely not so nice— but hearing Ana’s tiny excited voice does something unfairly soft to her heart.

Luca shifts sleepily against her side at the same moment, his small hand still curled loosely in the fabric of her shirt, and her chest squeezes painfully hard.

God. This family is going to ruin her.

She tries to play it off casually, leaning back in her chair with an easy grin despite the warmth blooming across her face.

“I’m the cool aunt, then.”

“Oh,” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s all it takes? A couple of fries?”

Vi leans slightly closer beside you, voice lowering. “Honestly? Yeah.”

Your stomach flips stupidly at the warmth of her lips brushing your skin. It keeps happening whenever she gets close to you, and neither of you moves away anymore.

Across the table, your mom watches the interaction with an expression so fond it’s almost embarrassing.

“You two look really happy together.”

Your dad hums in agreement while looking through photos on his phone. “Best mood I’ve seen Y/N in during one of these trips.”

Heat creeps immediately up your neck. Beside you, Vi suddenly becomes very interested in her drink.

Ana squints suspiciously. “Why are your faces red?”

“It’s cause they’re old,” Matt answers immediately.

“Hey!” you and Vi say at the exact same time, which only makes everyone laugh harder.

Luca shifts sleepily against Vi with a tiny yawn. Without even thinking about it, she adjusts him carefully so he’s more comfortable, one hand rubbing gently up and down his back.

Suddenly, your dad’s face brightens as he turns his phone toward Vi, showing her some photos and videos of you when you were six. Crying at swimming lessons, at your first spelling bee, playing with your old dog. Even your mom hops in, telling Vi stories about how you used to be when you were just a kid.

You groan, covering your face briefly while everyone keeps laughing around the table. And the worst part? You’re happy. Over the last few days, this trip has stopped feeling like a survival show and started feeling like a warm and safe vacation you could actually enjoy.

Your gaze drifts sideways automatically toward Vi. She’s still smiling at the video your dad is showing, Luca asleep against her side, your family talking to her like she’s belonged there forever.

A sudden, terrifying thought hits you so hard it nearly steals the breath from your lungs.

You can picture this lasting. Not the trip. Her.

You look away quickly.

Across the table, Mia notices.

The last full day of the trip arrives far too quickly.

By noon, everyone’s gathered around the resort pool under bright sunlight and the constant sound of splashing water. You’re stretched comfortably across a lounge chair in your swimsuit, sunglasses pushed up into your hair. Nearby, Ana’s shrieking dramatically as Vi lifts her clean out of the pool.

“PUT ME DOWN, AUNTIE VI!”

“You kicked me first!” she argues back, grinning.

“In self-defense!”

Luca clings quietly to Vi’s back while she carries Ana around with one arm like she weighs nothing. The sight alone is enough to make your heart skip a beat. God, you’re in so much trouble.

Vi glances over toward you automatically, catching you staring. A grin spreads instantly across her face.

“You just gonna sit there lookin’ pretty or you gonna help me?”

“I’m busy,” you reply lazily. “I’m taking care of this chair now.”

Vi snorts, shaking her head before Luca whispers something in her ear. Her brows furrow.

“Shoot,” she mutters, having learned to filter out her curse words around the kids after Ana accused her of teaching them. “I left my sunscreen upstairs.”

“I can go get it,” you offer immediately, already sitting up.

Her expression softens in that way that keeps wrecking you lately. “Yeah?”

“I mean, you’re kinda busy being a human playground.”

Ana laughs loudly. “She LOVES being the human playground.”

“I absolutely do not.”

A chuckle slips out before you can stop it. Vi watches you for half a second too long, before splashing you with some water.

“Thanks, pretty girl.”

Heat rushes so fast into your face it almost hurts. Vi looks way too pleased with herself as she turns back toward the kids, as if she didn’t just completely mess with your brain.

You hate her.

You’re definitely in love with her.

The elevator upstairs gives you exactly enough time to attempt regaining your composure. By the time you make it back downstairs with Vi’s sunscreen, your face finally feels normal again.

At least, until you pass through the hotel lobby.

You recognize Mia’s voice immediately.

“…I’m just saying, Vi’s great with them.”

Your steps slow instinctively.

Matt hums in agreement somewhere nearby. “She’s awesome.”

“She is. Honestly, I didn’t expect to like her this much.”

“But?”

“She’s obviously amazing,” Mia continues, quieter now. “I just don’t see someone like Vi sticking around long-term.”

You freeze completely behind the corner wall.

“And Y/N… you know how she gets. I don’t want her getting hurt when Vi eventually leaves.”

By the time you walk back outside, the sunlight suddenly feels too bright, too warm. You barely hear Ana yelling your name as you walk toward the chairs again. The second Vi’s eyes land on you, her smile fades instantly. She can tell something’s off.

“What happened?” she asks quietly once Luca slides off her back.

“Nothing,” you avoid looking at her.

And suddenly, the rest of the afternoon feels wrong.

You laugh when you’re supposed to, smile when spoken to, even nod through conversations, but Vi notices every single crack. Every forced grin, every distant state, and every moment you stop reaching for her automatically.

By evening, the guilt and concern sitting in her chest has become unbearable.

The sun hangs low over the ocean while everyone walks along the shoreline after dinner. Waves roll gently across the sand while Ana and Luca run ahead collecting shells near your parents.

Somehow, eventually, you and Vi fall behind from the group. The ocean breeze cools your skin while your feet sink softly into damp sand, and Vi glances at you for a moment.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Your chest tightens instantly at the nickname. You let out a quiet laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

Vi slows beside you.

“Hey,” her voice softens. “Talk to me.”

You stare out at the darkening ocean, because you know you might break down if you look into her eyes and she gives you that look again.

“I overheard Mia and Matt earlier,” you admit in a low voice. “Speaking about you, about me… about us, I guess.”

Vi’s expression changes immediately. “What’d they say?”

You shrug tightly, arms crossing over your chest.

“That you’re great,” your throat tightens. “And that this probably won’t last.”

Vi goes still beside you. She’s staring at you in disbelief, a soft frown covering her features. You force another laugh.

“She’s right, though.”

“What?”

You shake your head quickly.

“Come on, Vi. Let’s be realistic for a second,” your voice comes harsher now. “I’m single for a reason.”

Vi’s face hardens instantly. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That, this,” she steps closer toward you through the sand, frustration flashing openly across her face now. “Talking about yourself this way.”

You let out another hollow laugh, though it sounds shakier this time.

“I mean, come on,” you gesture vaguely between the two of you. “I had to ask a coworker to pretend to date me for a stupid family trip. How fucking lame am I?”

Vi stares at you like you just said something genuinely upsetting.

“Y/N.”

“She didn’t even mean it in a bad way,” you continue before she can speak again. “She just knows me.”

Vi scoffs incredulously. “No offense, but your sister’s an idiot.”

Despite everything sitting heavy inside your chest, your mouth twitches faintly.

“She thinks you’ll realize this whole thing isn’t worth it eventually,” you admit quietly. “If only she knew we were pretending this whole time.”

Her expression changes completely, like the idea itself offends her.

“Are you serious right now?”

You finally look at her then, and immediately regret it because she’s staring at you with so much intensity it almost knocks the air from your lungs.

“You know what your problem is?” her voice comes out tougher than she intends, frustration and vulnerability tangle underneath it. “You act like you’re difficult to love when you’re not.”

Vi steps closer enough that you can see the tension in her jaw and the way her hands flex uselessly at her sides whenever she has too much she wants to say and no idea where to even start.

“It’s actually kind of insane,” she says softly now, shaking her head once. “The way you talk about yourself is nothing compared to the person I’ve gotten to know better these days.”

Your throat tightens, the words hitting so hard your chest physically aches.

“You take care of everybody before they even ask,” her eyes stay locked on yours. “You’re patient. Like… ridiculously. Even when your family’s driving you insane, you still show up for them because you love them.”

Your heartbeat grows louder and louder.

The ocean breeze moves through her pink hair softly, and for the first time since you met her, Vi looks jittery.

“And the kids?” she laughs weakly under her breath. “God, Y/N. Luca looks at you like you hung the moon, and Ana admires you so freaking much.”

Your eyes burn immediately.

“Your parents adore you. Your mom lights up every time you walk into a room. Your dad literally carries embarrassing childhood photos of you around on his phone like you’re his greatest accomplishment.

You blink to try and hold the tears back, clearly taken aback with how gentle and soft Vi is being toward you.

“And me?” her voice lowers almost to a whisper now. “I like being around you so much it’s actually become a problem.”

The confession slips out of her and Vi realizes it a second too late. Your breath catches as soon as you notice she didn’t mean to say it out loud, with the way her eyes widen and her shoulders tense up.

But now that it’s out there, she can’t stop.

“You make everything feel easy,” she admits, eyes softening in a way that makes your stomach flip. “Even stupid stuff. Breakfasts, walking around, sitting around doing nothing… I just— Fuck, I look for you constantly now.”

“Vi…” you whisper, every word landing deep inside you with how sincere she sounds.

“And hearing you talk about yourself like this?” She keeps going, visibly upset now. “It pisses me off cause it’s not fucking true.”

Vi’s breath is uneven now, chest rising and falling faster beneath the ocean breeze. She’s been holding all of this in for days and she can’t stop it from spilling it out.

A tear slips free before you can stop it. Vi notices instantly, her expression softening so fast it nearly undoes you.

“Hey,” she murmurs, voice dropping completely now.

You look down immediately, embarrassed, but Vi gently catches your wrist before you can fully turn away.

“No, no, don’t do that,” the warmth of her hand around yours sends your pulse spiraling. “You don’t get to sit here and act like you’re unlovable when I—”

Vi cuts herself off abruptly. The words hang there between you unfinished, but painfully obvious.

When I what?

Your heartbeat pounds violently against your ribs. Her eyes widen slightly like she can’t believe she almost said that out loud. A faint flush spreads across her cheeks, but she doesn’t let go of your wrist.

The ocean waves crash softly behind her while your entire body feels too warm, too aware, too full of her. Slowly, Vi exhales.

“When I look at you,” she corrects quietly, though her voice still sounds shaken, “all I see is somebody worth loving.”

Nobody’s ever spoken about you this way before. Hell, nobody’s ever even looked at you like this before.

Your eyes burn harder now, emotions crowding painfully inside your chest all at once. And Vi—

God, Vi looks terrified. Not because she regrets saying it, but because she knows that there’s no turning back now. And to be sincere, she doesn’t want to take it back.

The realization settles between you both heavily, mixing with the sound of crashing waves and distant laughter farther down the beach.

“…you really mean all that?” your voice comes out small and fragile in a way that makes Vi’s chest ache instantly.

“I do,” she answers quietly.

Your heartbeat violently against your ribs as Vi takes another small step toward you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from her skin despite the cool evening breeze.

“You have no idea how easy you are to care for,” Vi admits softly, eyes flickering between yours. “Honestly, I think I was screwed the second you offered me a free vacation.”

A shaky laugh escapes you, and Vi’s mouth twitches at the sound. Oh, how she’s missed it all day long.

The air between you shifts.

Her gaze drops briefly to your lips, and your breath catches immediately. Your body instinctively leans toward hers before your brain can stop it.

Vi notices immediately, her own breath hitching. Slowly, her free hand lifts toward your face, making your pulse jump so hard it almost hurts. Her fingertips brush lightly against your cheek, warm and gentle, and the look she gives you nearly steals all the air from your lungs entirely.

Your eyes flutter shut, and Vi leans close enough that you can feel her breath against your lips—

“AUNTIE VI, AUNTIE Y/N!”

Both of you jump apart so fast it’s almost embarrassing.

Ana comes sprinting down the beach at full speed while Luca trails behind her, carrying three seashells and a juice box with extreme concentration.

“We found a crab!” Ana announces proudly.

Vi tips her head back toward the sky with a strangled groan. You clap a hand over your mouth immediately, laughter escaping despite the emotional whiplash currently going on inside your chest.

Ana squints suspiciously between the two of you. “Why are your faces red again?”

The trip comes to an end the following day.

One moment, you’re falling asleep to the sound of ocean waves and Vi’s sleepy voice beside you. The next, everyone’s standing near the airport drop-off with luggage piled around you while the morning traffic rushes by outside.

The goodbye chaos is immediate. Ana’s already clinging to Vi’s waist before anyone’s even finished unloading bags.

“Nooooo,” she whines. “You can’t go home.”

Vi laughs softly, crouching down enough to poke her forehead lightly. “I live in the same neighborhood as you, kiddo.”

“That’s still too far.”

Luca stays quieter beside them, but he’s holding onto Vi’s hand with both of his little hands, not planning on letting go anytime soon.

Vi shoots you a tiny smile over Ana’s head. The kind that still makes your stomach flip embarrassingly hard.

“Guess I’m stuck now.”

“You better be,” Ana points at her sternly.

Your dad walks over next, already pulling Vi into a warm hug before she can escape.

“You survived your first family vacation,” he jokes. “That’s basically official induction.”

Vi snorts. “Do I get a trophy?”

“…no, but you do get twenty embarrassing childhood stories about Y/N.”

“Oh, I already got those.”

“Dad,” you groan instantly.

Your mom laughs warmly before stepping toward Vi too. And immediately, her expression softens. It’s the kind of emotional softness that catches Vi completely off guard as she’s pulled into a gentle hug.

“You better come to brunch next weekend,” your mom says firmly. “I’m serious.”

“I promise I’ll do my best.”

“No excuses, sweetie,” your mom warns before her expressions turns softer still. “And… thank you.”

Vi blinks once, clearly puzzled. “For what?”

Your mom glances toward you briefly. “For making my daughter happy.”

The words land like a punch straight to Vi’s chest, her breath catching almost imperceptibly. Your mom says it so simply and sincerely, like it’s so obvious that Vi’s already become so important. For a second, she can’t even find s joke to hide behind.

Vi’s eyes drift toward you automatically, and the look on your face nearly ruins her on the spot. Soft, embarrassed and hopeful, all in one.

“We’re keeping you, by the way,” your mom squeezes Vi’s arm gently before stepping back.

“Mom.”

“I’m just stating the obvious, dear.”

Mia walks over last. There’s an initial awkwardness, and Luca attaches to her side now, looking significantly less pleased about the trip ending.

“…okay,” she admits reluctantly. “You were kinda amazing.”

Vi gasps dramatically. “Wow. Is anyone recording this?”

“Don’t push it.”

But Mia’s smiling when she says it. She glances between you and Vi before adding a quieter:

“Take care of each other, okay?”

The final goodbyes blur together after that. Your mom makes Vi promise to visit next week, Luca quietly asks if she’ll really come to the park with them someday, and suddenly it’s over.

The airport disappears behind you as you and Vi step out into the warm afternoon air alone for the first time in days.

The silence that settles between you inside the cab ride home feels different now. Heavy, and anticipating. By the time you stop outside your apartment building, your heartbeat feels completely out of control again.

Vi stands beside you as she puts the last bag down in your living room. The city noise hums softly through the open windows, but all you can focus on is her and the way she’s looking at you now.

You let out one nervous laugh.

“So…” you start weakly. “Guess the job’s over.”

Vi smiles at that, but there’s shyness underneath it now. She steps close enough that your breath catches immediately.

“Yeah?” she murmurs.

Her eyes flick down to your lips before returning to your eyes, making your pulse jump like crazy.

“Um…” she smiles against the nervous tension between you. “You planning on firing me as your fake girlfriend?”

A laugh escapes your throat before you can stop it, quiet and breathless and completely fond. God, you’re so gone for her.

You shake your head slightly, stepping closer too until there’s barely any space left between you.

“Depends,” you mutter, a grin taking over your lips. “You interested in becoming my real one?”

The look that crosses Vi’s face almost undoes you completely. Then, she kisses you.

For real this time. No audience, no pretending and no excuses. Just Vi’s hands sliding gently to your waist while your fingers curl instinctively into the front of her shirt, both of you smiling helplessly into the kiss almost immediately.

It’s softer than the first one, but somehow it hits ten times harder. Because now you know that every stolen glance, every touch, every blush and every word… it was real all along.

Vi smiles against your lips, forehead resting lightly against yours when you finally pull apart.

“Took you long enough,” she whispers.

You laugh softly, warmth flooding every inch of your chest before kissing her again.

[natalianovnas]

❛❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 ❛❛ — part 1

꩜ ۫ . SUMMARY :: being a single parent isn't easy, especially finding a partner that would love you AND your child. will natasha romanoff be different than the ones you sought out before? (i hate this summary pls someone help me change it 😞)

꩜ ۫ . PAIRING :: natasha romanoff x female reader.

꩜ ۫ . WARNINGS/TAGS :: fluff. no use of yn. reader playing hard to get. natasha being kind of pushy in the beginning. reader has a child from a previous relationship. mention of rejection. this is a slow-burn. (or kind of).

꩜ ۫ . WORDS COUNT :: 9k

AUTHOR'S NOTE ; this was supposed to be out on february 14th, but anyways, procrastinating is my middle name :)

and yes, no smut 🫶🏽 as much as it's our guilty pleasure, i think i wanted to portray this dynamic (and nat) differently here —considering they're weeks only into this relationship and a shy of one/two months of knowing each other!

and i haven't mentioned it into the fic but i think it's obvious that constant rejection leads to (self) doubt and trust issues so natasha will wait until reader initiates.

The bar was alive with its usual symphony of clinking glasses, low laughter, and soft music humming in the background.

It wasn't the busiest night you'd seen since the place opened, but there was enough movement to keep your hands busy and your focus sharp.

You'd been behind the counter for hours now, sleeves rolled up and hair tied half up out of your face, the glow of the neon lights overhead reflecting off rows of polished bottles.

You were covering for a co-worker—Charlie, who was practically a friend now—tonight, which meant an unusual extension of your shift. Normally, you'd be home by now, tired but satisfied, while the night crowd swelled in and another bartender took over.

You'd been here long enough to know the routine, to recognize most of the regulars, and to brush off the flirtations that came with the territory.

Pretty faces, charming lines, casual compliments — you'd heard them all.

You'd grown used to the attention; it came with the territory. A new, trendy club with a sleek design, good drinks, and—if the reviews online were to be believed—"a ridiculously attractive staff."

Most meant you.

People came for the cocktails and stayed to flirt, hoping for something more than a smile. You never gave it.

Not because you weren't tempted — some of your regulars were downright gorgeous, even nice — but because you simply didn't have the time or the energy to let your mind wander from work. You'd built your reputation here, and the bar's reputation too, on professionalism.

And so, you didn't notice her at first.

Natasha Romanoff slipped into the bar the way shadows slip through an alley : quiet, smooth, and with a presence that pulled attention whether she wanted it or not.

She didn't come often, and when she did, it was always late, long after your shift was over. She liked it that way — fewer people, fewer eyes. She'd sit in the corner, order a drink or two, and leave without fanfare.

But tonight, fate had nudged the two of you into the same space.

She watched you for a long moment from the end of the bar, her sharp green eyes tracing the easy way you moved, the relaxed confidence in every gesture. You were laughing with a customer as you poured a drink, shoulders loose, dimly lit by the warm glow above.

Natasha wasn't used to seeing you, and she found herself... intrigued.

“Evening,” she said when you finally came over, her voice smooth and low.

You glanced up, not giving much away. “Evening,” you echoed, polite but neutral.

“What do you recommend?”

“Depends.” Your lips curved into a practiced smile. “Do you want something strong enough to forget your troubles, or light enough to keep you company while you think about them?”

That earned a quiet chuckle from her, and for a second, Natasha thought she had your attention. But you were already reaching for a glass, unfazed by the striking redhead in front of you, treating her like just any other customer.

And that? That was new.

Natasha Romanoff was used to attention —commanding it, deflecting it, using it. She wasn't used to being... ignored. She watched you pour her drink, her curiosity deepening. “You work here often?” she asked casually.

“Every night,” you said, sliding the glass across the bar without missing a beat. “But not usually this late. I'm covering for a friend tonight.”

“Lucky me, then.”

You gave her a polite smile again, the kind you'd given a hundred customers before her, and went to take another order without lingering. Natasha raised a brow, watching you turn away. So that's how it was going to be.

The Russian swirled the drink in her glass, elbows resting casually on the polished wood of the bar. Her sharp green eyes tracked you as you moved, the way you navigated between customers with practiced ease, as if you owned the space. She was impressed—not that she'd say it outright yet.

When you came back to check on her, she smirked.

“Strong,” she quipped, nodding at the drink. “You got a heavy hand..” she trailed off, her forest green orbs lowering just a few seconds to check you name tag before quickly returning to your eyes as she ended her sentence by saying your name.

You gave her the faintest smile. “You asked for a surprise.”

“I do like surprises,” Natasha murmured, leaning forward slightly, her voice smooth. “Especially when they're as good as this one.”

Your brows raised, but you didn't bite, just moved to wipe down the counter near her. “Glad you like it.

“So,” Natasha tilted her head, amused by your calm. “Are you always this focused?”

“Usually.”

“I take it you don't get distracted easily, do you?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully, swirling her drink again. “So if I told you that I'll be coming here for weeks, hoping to see you, that wouldn't distract you either?”

You paused briefly, glancing at her out of the corner of your eye. “Probably not.”

Natasha grinned, resting her chin on her palm. “You're either very good at this job or completely immune to flirting.”

“Maybe both,” you answered again, moving to refill a customer's water glass.

The redhead chuckled softly, clearly entertained. “You're not even going to ask my name?”

“I assume you're not here to make friends,” you replied coolly. “Just like I'm not here to socialize.”

That only made her grin wider. “I like that about you.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “But for the record, it's Natasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Natasha,” you said in the same calm, polite tone you'd use for anyone else.

Her smirk deepened. “You're hard to impress, huh?”

You finally met her gaze, deadpan. “I'm working.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. Natasha wasn't used to this—being brushed off so easily—but it only fueled her interest.

“Alright,” she said, standing to leave after finishing her drink. “But I'm coming back tomorrow night. Maybe I'll finally get you to look at me the way everyone else does.”

You shrugged, already reaching for the empty glass. “Good luck with that.”

Natasha chuckled as she slipped a bill under the glass, far more than the cost of the drink, and slid her jacket over her shoulders. She paused at the door, glancing back at you one more time, smirk firmly in place.

“See you soon, hotshot.”

You barely spared her a glance as you cleaned the counter. “Have a good night.”

Natasha walked out into the cool night air, grinning to herself. She'd definitely be back.

. . . . . . . .

It had been nearly a week now, and Natasha had made herself a fixture at the club.

She didn't even wait until your shift was almost over anymore. She started coming in early, right when you clocked in, sliding into her usual seat with that same lazy smirk, effectively scaring off anyone else who even thought about trying their luck with you.

Not that you minded much. It was quiet when she was there. Even if her sharp gaze followed your every movement, even if she asked for your attention in ways no one else had the nerve to. Natasha Romanoff didn't beg. She didn't push. She just... showed up and asked.

Every. Single. Night.

“A date,” she'd say, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Just one.”

Tonight was no different.

You were wiping down the counter after a rush, finally catching a breath. Natasha, of course, was right where she always was, chin resting in her hand, looking at you like she was cataloging every detail.

“You're very persistent, aren't you?” you stated, exhaling a soft sigh, your hand pausing mid-motion.

The Russian's lips curled into that dangerous little smirk. “So I've been told.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping just enough to make it sound like a secret. “Can I at least get your number, pretty girl?”

You blinked, the corner of your mouth oh so slightly twitching at the nickname. “You really don't give up easily.”

“Not when I see someone I want.” She propped her chin on her hand, completely at ease, but her gaze was sharp, unwavering. “And right now, that's you.”

You shook your head, trying not to laugh. “You don't even know me.”

Natasha's smirk softened into something warmer. “Then let me fix that.”

You turned to grab a glass to polish, pretending to busy yourself. “Don't you get tired of hearing 'no'?”

“Nope,” she said simply. “Every 'no' just means I get to come back and ask again.”

You gave her a look over your shoulder, deadpan. “That's... not exactly how that works.”

“It is tonight.”

You huffed out a laugh despite yourself, quickly masking it. Natasha caught it though—of course she did—and her smile deepened.

“I'm good company, you know,” she spoke again, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. “You'd have fun.”

You glanced at her, meeting those sharp green eyes for just a moment too long. “You sound confident.”

“I am confident,” The redhead murmured, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. "But I'm also patient." She pushed her empty glass toward you. “Another one of those, hotshot.”

You rolled your eyes but reached for the shaker, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. Natasha wasn't like the others — she didn't try cheesy lines or offer tips that doubled as propositions. She just showed up, looked at you like she meant it, and asked.

And for the first time, you weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to keep saying no.

Natasha watched you with that usual, infuriatingly calm confidence, swirling the drink you'd just set in front of her. The bar had quieted down, most of the late crowd trickling out, and it was nearing the end of your shift. She'd been here for hours again, her presence steady and unwavering, always asking for the same thing: a date.

She hadn't expected tonight to be any different.

You leaned on the counter slightly, wiping it down one last time as Natasha nursed her drink. She'd asked for your number earlier, throwing in a casual “pretty girl” with that smirk that had made a few other patrons flush over the week. You'd brushed it off like you always did, and Natasha had resigned herself to yet another night of polite rejection.

But then you slid something across the polished wood toward her. A small folded piece of paper.

Natasha blinked, her brows arching as she picked it up, unfolding it slowly.

A phone number—your phone number.

Her lips parted slightly, surprised for the first time in days of this back-and-forth. "You're serious?"

You smirked faintly, drying your hands on a towel. “Not many people get that so easily.” You tilted your head, locking eyes with her. “Make good use of it, Red.”

It was the first time you'd ever given her a nickname and it hit her like a shot of whiskey, making Natasha's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Oh, I will.” She slipped the paper carefully into her jacket pocket like it was something precious. “You have no idea.”

You shrugged like it was nothing, though the smallest smile tugged at your lips as you turned to grab an empty glass. “Goodnight, Natasha.”

She stood, sliding on her jacket, her eyes never leaving you. “Goodnight, pretty girl.”

As she walked toward the door, the redhead felt a rare thrill settle in her chest. She'd been persistent, sure, but she hadn't expected this today.

And if you thought Natasha Romanoff was persistent before, well... you had no idea what you'd just invited into your life.

. . . . . . . .

Half an hour later, the door to your apartment clicked shut behind you.

The quiet of your space was a relief after the buzz of the bar, and you kicked off your shoes, shaking out the day from your shoulders.

Usually, not long after you'd pull the door open, the familiar ound of feet thunding on the floor would be a heard and a tiny set of arms would be wrapped around your waist in greetings from your daughter but it was winter break, and she was over at her other parent's place.

You were the primary caretaker. You had her during school days while your ex would get her on weekends and during the holidays—of course there could be exceptions.

You were thankful that your ex was not an asshole and that whatever had happened between you wasn't going to be projected on your child. They were mature enough not to make you stress or fight with them just to see your own child.

(now, let's pretend it's cold out and that we don't need a cold shower to wash out the sweat from us — because for my defense, this had been written around dec/jan)

The shower ran hot, steaming up the small bathroom as you let the water wash off the residue of the night. By the time you stepped out, towel wrapped around you, your hair damp, you felt the tension in your shoulders start to ease.

You were halfway through applying lotion—arms, legs, and the soft curve of your neck—when your phone buzzed on the dresser.

<Unknown number>

You froze for a moment, then a small smirk tugged at your lips. Of course you picked up.

“Hello?” Your voice was casual, but you couldn't keep the smile from your tone and—from some yet-to-be-known reasons—off your face.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Natasha's voice purred on the other end : deep, smooth, and deliberately teasing. “I hope you're not too tired after your shift.”

You lowered the device from your ear, placing it on your vanity before putting her on speaker so you wouldn't have any trouble applying lotion while talking to her at the same time.

“No, not too tired,” you replied, letting your voice stay light though your pulse had picked up. “Just... winding down.”

“Good,” she said, a chuckle in her tone. “Because I was hoping to hear from you. I wanted to make sure that number I got tonight actually belonged to you, and not some random bartender with a pretty smile.”

You rolled your eyes, though it was playful, with a grin on your lips—Your left hand going to grab the bottle to add some more of the oil onto your right palm then rubbing both palms together. You propped your leg up on the chair, your hands automatically applying the lotion on it as you answered. “Aren't you a persistant one.”

“I prefer the term 'determined',” she replied. “Besides, it's hard to resist someone who works the bar the way you do. You've got a rhythm, a... presence.”

You paused momentarily, careful to keep your composure. “You really won't quit, will you?”

Natasha's laugh was low, teasing. “With someone like you? Absolutely not.” She let the words hang, deliberate, making sure they reached you in all the right ways. “So, tell me, pretty girl... when can I take you out? Or are you planning on keeping me on the hook forever?”

Bitting back a smile, you also finish moisturizing your skin. You close the lotion and deactivate the speaker mode and put your phone back to your ear. “Don't flatter yourself too much, Red. But... maybe I could pencil you in.”

“Hmm,” The Russian purred, clearly amused. “I like the sound of that. You don't say yes easily, and that just makes me want it more.”

You rolled your eyes again at her antics, but the corners of your lips twitched. “You make it very difficult to act professional.”

“That's my specialty,” she said, voice dipping low, teasing, almost intimate. “I've been practicing for weeks.”

That made you utter a soft laugh. Unconsciously, you shook your head, but there was a flutter of excitement in your chest. “Alright, Red. Just... don't get used to this.”

Natasha's voice on the other end was smooth, low, and deliberately teasing.

“I'm already planning my victory speech,” she had said, and you chuckled softly.

“Victory speech for what?” you questioned, playing along, though your pulse betrayed the flutter her words caused.

“For convincing you to finally go on a date with me,” she responded, her tone sly, deliberate. “I mean, how many people get a chance like that and actually resist me?”

You rolled your eyes, even though she couldn't see you. “You really think you're that special, Red?”

“I know I am,” she replied with a laugh. “But I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. I want to hear you say yes, not just hand it to me.”

You smirked, brushing a hand through your damp hair. “Persistent. Determined. Arrogant. Pick one.”

“I'm all three,” The redhead stated—unbothered, confident, arrogant—maybe all three, but honestly, at this point you didn't know anymore. “But there's one more you should know—charming.“

That made you snort softly. “Oh, I'm glad you're self-aware.”

“And you,” she leaned into the words, though you couldn't see her, “you're still refusing to give me a proper chance. So I'll ask again—just to make sure it's not because you can't say yes.”

You froze for the briefest second, just long enough for her to notice. "A date," she added simply, her voice lowering, sultry and deliberate. “One night. Dinner, drinks, whatever else you want. Just me and you. I promise to make it... memorable.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head again, but the edge of amusement in your voice was unmistakable. “You're not gonna give this up.. "

"I already told you," she answered. Then, softer, teasing: "So... dinner? Saturday night?"

You bit your lip, pretending to think.

“Fine. Saturday. But only because you finally asked nicely.”

Natasha's laugh was low, satisfied, and utterly triumphant. “Oh, pretty girl... you won't regret it.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “I better not.”

“Good,” Natsha stated, her voice softening just a touch. “I'll pick you up. Be ready to have your mind blown.”

“Sure... I'll try to be prepared.”

“Don't try. Just be you," she said, a subtle smirk in her voice. “That's enough to keep me coming back, night after night.”

You exhaled, already knowing she was right. Even over the phone, Natasha Romanoff had found a way to unsettle you, charm you, and get you smiling at the exact right moments.

“Alright, Red. Night,”

“Goodnight, pretty girl,” she whispered, the final words lingering in your ear like a promise.

. . . . . . . .

The next few days passed in a blur of shifts, orders, and polished counters, but no matter how much you tried to focus on work, your thoughts kept drifting to one person.

Natasha.

You caught yourself smiling at the sound of your phone, imagining her low, teasing voice again. Her persistence, her smirk, that subtle way she made even a simple question feel loaded with intent. You told yourself it was just harmless fun. She was flirtatious, yes, but so what? You were busy, independent, and focused. Right?

Still, you found your mind replaying the call.

"One night. Dinner, drinks... just me and you."

You rolled your eyes at yourself. Who even talks like that? Who makes you laugh and bite your lip at the same time just over the phone?

At the bar, she kept coming back — though not too often, careful not to overstep — but the thought of Saturday lingered like a secret thrill. You caught yourself checking the clock, imagining her sliding into her usual spot, that smirk in place, ready to tease you mercilessly.

You told yourself you were being careful, unbothered, professional. And yet...

You found excuses to linger near the phone. You caught yourself drafting what you'd wear, imagining the little smirk she'd give if you picked that dress over another. You even practiced your "I'm calm and collected" demeanor in the mirror, knowing full well she'd be able to see through it.

The more you thought about her, the more impossible it became to act like it was just another night. Your pulse quickened at the memory of her voice, her words, the way she'd laughed when she got what she wanted: your attention.

By Thursday, you were already anticipating Saturday like a secret thrill — half nervous, half excited, and entirely aware that Natasha Romanoff had somehow wormed her way into your careful, professional world without even showing up yet.

And as much as you swore you weren't letting yourself fall for it... a small, stubborn part of you couldn't wait.

Saturday night wasn't just a date. It was a test.

And you had a sneaking suspicion Natasha Romanoff would make sure you didn't walk away unscathed.

. . . . . . . .

Saturday night.

Your apartment smelled faintly of your favorite perfume, the soft scent mixing with the clean crispness of freshly washed sheets and candle wax. You'd been pacing for the last ten minutes, pretending you weren't nervous, pretending this was just... dinner. Just a casual outing with a customer who happened to be ridiculously attractive, ridiculously confident, and ridiculously good at making your heart skip.

You adjusted your outfit in the mirror one last time, smoothing invisible wrinkles out of your clothes. It wasn't overly fancy, but you'd put thought into it — just enough to look good without seeming like you'd spent an hour planning it. (You absolutely had.)

Then came the knock.

Three soft, deliberate raps at your door that made your stomach flip. You took a steadying breath, smoothing your hair back before opening the door and there she was.

Natasha Romanoff stood in your doorstep like she owned the place, dressed in black slacks and a perfectly tailored jacket over a black blouse that shimmered faintly under the hallway light. Her hair was loose, soft curls framing her face, and those sharp green eyes immediately flicked over you in one slow, approving sweep.

You'd have to admit, she looks ridiculously gorgeous in a silk blouse, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the veins on her forearms.

“Well,” she murmured, her smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth. “I was expecting you to look good, but you really outdid yourself, pretty girl.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the heat creeping up your neck. “You clean up alright yourself, Red.”

The Russian chuckled low in her throat, pushing off the doorframe. “Just alright?” She stepped closer, her voice dipping into that smooth, teasing tone. “You wound me.”

You amusingly rolled your eyes, stepping up to walk past her after locking your door. “Come on. We're gonna be late if you keep fishing for compliments.”

. . . . . . . .

The car ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Natasha drove, one hand casually on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. She glanced at you every so often, that amused glint in her eye, like she was trying to read every detail about you without you noticing.

“So,” she said finally, her tone easy. “I've been asking for this date for a week. Was it worth the chase?”

You crossed your legs, looking out the window with a faint smirk. “We'll see.”

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head. “Playing hard to get. I like that.”

“I'm not playing anything,” You tell her, glancing at her side profile. “I just don't hand my number out to everyone and afterwards, allow them to take me out.”

“Mm, I noticed,” The Russian answered, her voice dipping lower. “Makes me feel special.”

A soft snort slipped past your lips. “You're impossible.”

“And you,” she shot back smoothly, “are stunning. So, I'd say we're even.”

You turned your head toward the window to hide the small smile tugging at your lips, but Natasha caught it anyway.

The car pulled up in front of an intimate, softly lit restaurant — small, classy, with warm light spilling from the windows. Natasha was out of the car before you could finish unbuckling, opening your door like a perfect gentlewoman.

You raised an eyebrow as she offered her hand. “Wow. Someone's really trying to impress me.”

Natasha smirked, her eyes glinting. “Oh, sweetheart... I haven't even started yet.”

You slipped your hand into hers, warmth sparking at the contact, and tried to ignore the way your pulse skipped when her fingers brushed yours just a little too deliberately.

Something told you tonight was going to be... dangerous.

In the best way.

Inside, the restaurant is dimly lit, all flickering candles and soft jazz humming in the background. The host leads you to a table tucked away in a corner, the kind of table meant for secrets and Natasha slides in across from you with the kind of casual confidence that makes your stomach flip.

She leans back, green eyes glinting. “I'm glad you said yes.”

You scoff lightly, settling your napkin on your lap. “I didn't really get much of a choice, did I? You were practically stalking my bar shifts.”

The redhead chuckles, low and warm. “What can I say? I like a challenge.“ She leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. “And you, sweetheart, are very worth chasing.”

Your breath hitches at the pet name, but you hide it by picking up the menu. “You know, I'm starting to think you're just this confident with everyone.”

“Not true.” Natasha's voice softens slightly, but her smirk remains. “You make me want to be confident. It's not every day I meet someone who makes me wait almost a week just to get their number.”

You glance up over the top of your menu, catching her staring at you like she's memorizing your every movement. Heat curls low in your stomach, and you shift in your seat.

The waiter shows up with appetizers, wine and water—courtesy of the restaurant, indicating that you are in no rush to order—and for a moment, the tension breaks as you focus on the amuse bouche. But even then, Natasha's gaze lingers on you like a caress, making it very clear that this date is only the beginning.

"So..." The Russian begins, swirling her glass of wine. "Do I get to learn more about the mysterious bartender who's had me wrapped around her finger all these weeks?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You make it sound like I've been playing hard to get on purpose.”

“Haven't you?” A hint of tease is heard in her tone, accompanied with a raised eyebrow.

You meet her gaze, steady this time. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you'd actually stop trying”

“You know,” Her smirk softens into something a little more sincere, voice dropping lower, “I didn't expect you to give me your number that night. I was ready to walk out of that bar empty-handed. Thought you'd send me home with nothing but a bruised ego.”

“Hmm. Maybe I like keeping you on your toes,” you say, smirking as you take a sip of your wine—your eyes not leaving her green ones.

Her eyes narrow playfully, and she leans in, her voice a soft purr. “Careful there, pretty girl. I'm already thinking about how I can return the favor.”

The waiter comes, but Natasha had barely glanced at the menu. She smoothly orders the simple dish, then waves you off. “Get whatever you want. I didn't bring you here to worry about the bill.”

You can't help the scoff that slips. “Is this your usual date tactic? Throwing money around to impress girls?”

Nat grins, leaning forward on her elbows so the dim light catches her smirk. “Sweetheart, if I wanted to impress you, I'd be telling you how beautiful you look in that dress, not the price of the wine. Which, by the way...” Her eyes slowly drag down, then back up, and the deliberate once-over makes your breath hitch. “...is criminally short.”

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs, doing your best to keep your composure. “Bold.”

“I told you I wanted to take you out. I meant it. I want your time. Your attention.” She tilts her head, that predator's smirk curving her mouth. “And maybe your lips. Eventually.”

Your fork nearly slips from your hand, your gaze faltering but you make a show of recomposure by clearing your throat — although, your mind had started to slip back to the reason why you always push away in the first place. “You don't waste time.”

“Why should I?” She shrugs, eyes locked on you. “You've been making me come to that bar every night, watching you brush off every guy who thinks they have a shot. I'm just cutting the line, detka.”

The Russian endearment rolls off her tongue like velvet, and you feel your pulse spike.

You try for calm, raising an eyebrow. “And what makes you so sure you're not wasting your time too?”

The redhead leans closer, elbows resting on the table, her voice dropping just enough that it makes the hair on your neck stand. “Because you wouldn't be here if you didn't want me to try. ”

The flicker of candlelight made Nat's eyes glow in a way that made your heart twist. She leaned in slightly, the usual chin-resting-on-her-hand pose as she studied you like you were a puzzle she desperately wanted to solve. The conversation had been easy so far—flirty banter, teasing remarks, and the occasional smirk that made your pulse quicken. But now... now it was getting too real. She was serious.

You cleared your throat softly and dropped your gaze to your glass, fingers tightening around the stem. “Natasha, I think I should.. probably tell you something.”

Her brows furrowed faintly, her teasing smirk softening into something gentler. “Sounds serious,” she murmured, voice low but encouraging.

The quiet hum of the restaurant wrapped around you both, soft jazz playing in the background while candlelight flickered between each of your wine glasses. Natasha was halfway through cutting into her steak, perfectly at ease, when you finally spoke, yout voice hesitant but firm.

“I have a child.”

Natasha's hand didn't even pause mid-slice. She looked up, expression calm, maybe even curious. “Oh, really?” she asked casually, like you had just told her you liked her steak medium rare. “How old are they?”

“Yes, I know it's sudden but—” You blinked, stunned by her reaction. “Wait.. didn't you hear what I said? I have a child, Natasha. A daughter.”

“Yeah,” Natasha replied evenly, green eyes flicking up to meet your before she took a bite of the piece of steak. She was casual about this. Way too casual and damn, you were not used to this. "And I asked how old she is."

Guess you never thought Natsha Romanoff would've surprised you in more ways than one.

After a few minutes of silence, You let out a sharp, sarcastic chuckle, leaning back in your chair, your chest tightening as old memories clawed up. “Really? That's what you're asking? You're not gonna... I don't know, make a whole scene or suddenly get a phone call, maybe excuse yourself to the bathroom, and disappear from my life forever?”

Natasha's fork paused midair this time, her green eyes locking onto your face again with an intensity that made her heart stutter.

“Now,” Natasha said softly, voice low but razor-sharp with conviction, “why would I do that?”

The question hung heavy between you.

You froze, caught between defensiveness and disbelief, because that damned Russian was looking at you like you'd just said something tragic, not shameful. Like you were the one who deserved an apology for being made to feel this way.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table. “You thought I was here for... what? A fling?” Her tone wasn't mocking, but it carried weight—like she needed the truth.

Your lips twitched as you tried to keep your cool. You tightened your jaw then let it relax. “Well... most people, when they find out about her, they just—" you exhaled shakily, cutting yourself off.

“Disappear," Natasha gently finished the sentence for you as she started to understand. “Because they're cowards.”

You chewed on the inner part of your lower lip, stunned silent by the simplicity of her answer.

The redhead tilted her head, eyes softening. She could tell it wasn't quite easy for you to process this, since you had seemingly been going through the same pattern of rejection for God knows how long. So, as the sympatetic person she is, she didn't try to show pity but went on with the conversation. “So, how old is she?” she asked again, this time quieter, gentler.

You finally whispered, “...She's four.”

Natasha's lips curled into a faint smile. “That's a fun age.” She reached for her glass of wine like nothing about this conversation scared her. “You'll have to tell me her name.”

That cracked something deep inside you, a shaky laugh slipping out. “You're really.. not running away, huh?”

Natasha smirked, leaning back in her chair, confidence radiating off her in waves. “Sweetheart,” she said with a slow smile, “if I wanted to run, I wouldn't have asked you out in the first place.”

You blinked at her, startled and she continued to speak. “If anything, I'm impressed. You've been out here looking like that”—her gaze swept over you slowly, deliberately—"and raising a kid on your own? That's badass.”

Your lips parted in surprise. “You don't care that—?”

“Of course I care,” Nat said softly, her tone shifting again, grounding. “It matters. She matters. But if you're asking if it makes me want to leave? No. Not even a little.” She tilted her head. “Actually, I like that you told me. Shows me you trust me enough to be honest.”

The tightness in your chest loosened all at once, and you didn't realize you'd been holding your breath until you exhaled shakily.

The Russian's hand slid across the table, palm up, silently asking for yours. Hesitant but desperate for that grounding warmth, you placed your hand in hers, and she immediately laced your fingers together.

Her thumb brushed over your knuckles. “You're gorgeous, you're smart, and now I know you're a devoted mom too? You're kind of raising the bar, detka.”

You couldn't help it — you laughed, half from relief, half because of how serious and sincere she looked while saying it.

Then Natasha leaned in just a bit more, voice dropping lower, her lips curling into a wicked smirk. “And now I definitely need that second date.”

You just stared at her, stunned, heart pounding because Natasha wasn't just staying—she was all in.

. . . . . . . .

The night air was crisp, soft against your skin as the redhead led the way down the quiet street, her hand lightly brushing yours. Not holding, not yet—but that subtle contact made your pulse spike every time.

“Thanks for walking me back,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice casual even though your stomach was a riot of nerves.

Natasha glanced at you, that smirk tugging at her lips. “You're welcome. I don't let pretty girls wander home alone, detka.”

You chuckled, but your laughter was nervous. “You don't know how used I am to people disappearing the second they find out anything about my life.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I mean... no one ever reacts like you did tonight. Every date I've had just look at me like they've seen a ghost when they find out I have a child. They stutter, they make excuses, and then they leave. Forever. I... I wasn't expecting you to be any different.”

The street was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of traffic. Her eyes were steady, warm, and full of that rare softness that made your chest ache.

“And yet,“ you continued, voice trembling slightly, “you were. And I...” You trailed off, letting out a heartfelt chuckle. “I'm happy you were. I'm happy you're here.”

Her lips curled into a small, tender smile. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

There was a long pause, just the two of you in the glow of a nearby streetlight. Natasha's hand finally reached for yours, intertwining her fingers with yours in a gentle grip.

“I should say goodnight,” she murmured, though her voice betrayed the hesitation in her own chest.

“Or...” you started, heart hammering, “maybe not.”

Before Natasha could respond, you leaned in, brushing your lips against hers in a deliberate, confident kiss. To her surprise, you were the one initiating it. Her eyes widened for the briefest moment, then slowly closed as she deepened the kiss, one hand moving to cradle your face while the other stayed entwined with yours.

When you finally pulled back slightly, breathless, Natasha rested her forehead against yours. “Well,” she murmured, a teasing smirk returning, “you've got quite the initiative, hotshot.”

You chuckled, chewing on your lower lop while your thumb brushed over her knuckles. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure you knew you're not the only bold one here.”

Nat's laugh was low, warm, and full of admiration. “Oh, trust me... I know. And I'm really glad you are.”

For a long moment, you stayed like that, foreheads together, hands intertwined, letting the quiet of the night wrap around you both, knowing that something—dangerous, thrilling, real—had just begun.

. . . . . . . .

Its Thursday morning when your phone buzzes insistently on the nightstand as sunlight streamed in, catching dust in golden beams. You groaned, pulling the phone toward you, and saw Natasha's name lighting up the screen.

Of course it was her.

After that Saturday night date, a second, a third and a fourth one took place. Obviously not followed up, since you were both busy with your own lives and jobs.

The second date was on Tuesday afternoon and Natasha wanted to do something of your choice, since she had chosen the spot for the first date. It was after work for her while you had an evening shift. That was a way to get to know you better so, you both went to explore an art gallery and discuss each of your favorite pieces—that's how she discovered your subtle appreciation for art.

The third date took place on Thursday and you both decided it would be fun to try an escape room together. There were other people there as well : three teenagers, another couple—friends,maybe—at last, a father with his teen son. Out of the four teams, you and Nat solved the mystery first and that's how you discovered how incredibly smart she was since she'd found most of the enigma's answers on her own. Then you walked to a nearby ice cream shop afterward to talk about the funniest moments, the clues you had missed, and what you'd try differently next time.

And finally the fourth date happened last night, on Saturday. You attended a drive-in theater, then went out for bowling.

Her company was certainly enjoyable and she was quite funny. She also beat you multiple times at bowling and the only three times you scored : first one was out of luck. second, she'd let you win since you kept missing and as much as she enjoyed your pouty face, she preferred your smile and thank God you hadn't noticed her purposefully missing the shot so you'd get a score instead. the third was when she eventually taught you how to aim for a perfect strike

You can recall the fluttering feeling of her chest pressed against your back, her hands hovering yours as you both held the ball—and oh, the rasp of your voice at your ear.

You were also convinced that she actually wanted you for you—not because she simply saw a pretty face that made her look twice and a nice body—because she never pushed for sex.

Those days that you didn't spend together—last Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday—you both fulfilled them with phonecalls instead. either to talk about her day at work, yours or any other topic. Between all that, she never asked, initiated or even hinted for sex. Not even once.

And yes, one might say, 'it had only been a week', but not you. Not when you'd been asked for it at two day's time of getting to know the person or even right in the middle of the first date.

She wasn't driven by lust, she actually liked you unlike many others who simply saw you for your body.

“Morning,” you said, voice still hoarse from last night.

“Good morning, pretty girl,” Natasha purred on the other end. That low, teasing tone made your stomach clench in the best way. “Slept well?”

You tilted your head, biting back a smile. “Better than I probably should have. You?”

“Like a kid in a candy store,” she said smoothly. “Though some candy is much more... distracting than others.” Her grin practically radiated through the phone.

You chuckled, leaning back against the pillows, a hint of sleep tugging at your eyes. But it's not like you would fall asleep again anyway. It's been four years since you've woken up early but that didn't mean you were going to let her sweet talk you as an apology for waking you up. “It's early, Romanoff, why'd you call. And don't say it was to «hear that beautiful voice of yours».”

"No, really," she said seriously now, though that mischievous edge never left. “I want to see you again. Soon. I can't stop thinking about you. About last night."

You felt your pulse spike. "Nat..."

She cut in before you could get shy, bold and playful. “I know, detka. Just... when can I see you again? Dinner? Or maybe breakfast this time?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Breakfast, huh? You're really pushing it, Red.”

“And you,” she countered, voice dropping low and teasing, “are going to let me. Because last night? I know you liked it. Admit it.”

You blinked, caught off guard by her confidence. “...Maybe I did,” you whispered, voice soft.

"Good," she murmured, a satisfied smirk in her tone. "Then it's settled. I'll come for breakfast. And maybe after that, you can teach me some of your bartender tricks."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I think you'll just be more of a distraction than a student.”

“Perfect,” she said, almost triumphantly. “I like being a distraction. Especially for you.”

You rolled your eyes again, heart hammering, but couldn't help the wide smile spreading across your face. Natasha Romanoff had just proven she was not leaving—and somehow, you didn't want her to.

. . . . . . . .

You weren't expecting Natasha to actually follow through with the "I'm coming over with breakfast" text. Yet, there she was at your door at eight fifty in the morning, hair in a loose bun, the usual leather jacket swapped for a hoodie, and a paper bag in one hand.

You were in your pajamas. Not the cute, matching kind. Just a soft pair of linen short and a slightly oversized shirt. Your hair was messy, and you were pretty sure you still had pillow lines on your cheek.

And Natasha Romanoff was standing there looking like sin in a leather jacket.

“You're...early,” you said, blinking as she stepped into your apartment without hesitation.

“I said breakfast,” she teased, shrugging as she placed the bag on your kitchen counter. “That usually happens in the morning, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to feel flustered. “Yeah, well, I didn't think you meant actual morning. You could've at least given me a warning.”

She gave you a slow, amused once-over. “What, you don't like surprises?”

“Not this early. And definitely not when I look like this.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, leaning on your counter. “You look perfect. Now sit down. I got coffee, too.”

You squinted at her but obeyed, climbing onto one of your kitchen stools. "Mm—coffee first, compliments later."

She smirked and handed you a cup. “Bossy.”

You took a grateful sip and hummed. “God, that's good.”

“Of course it is. I got the same thing as last night—vanilla latte with oat milk. You're easy to please. ”

You raised a brow. “Or maybe you're just paying too much attention.”

The Russian smirked, clearly not denying it. She pulled out bagels, pastries, and a little container of fruit, arranging everything on your counter like she was setting up a feast.

“You know, for a first date aftermath, you're setting the bar really high.”

“Good,” she said simply, settling on the stool next to you, close enough that her knee brushed yours. “I like high bars.”

You took a bite of your bagel, smiling around it. “You're very confident for someone who barged into my apartment at nine a.m.”

Natasha tilted her head, “You let me in.”

“Because I was too tired to say no.”

She laughed softly, that low, warm sound that made your stomach flutter.

“Don't tell me you're shy now,” Natasha teased, leaning a little closer.

Swallowing and trying to match her energy, you raised your chin. “I'm not shy. I just wasn't expecting.. this.”

“What, breakfast?”

“No,” you said, smiling faintly. “You.”

That seemed to throw her for a second, her smirk softening into something very much more genuine.

Your heart fluttered, and before you could allow yourself overthink it, you leaned forward and kissed her.

It was soft at first, just a brush of lips, but Natasha was quick to deepen it, her hand coming up to cup your jaw. The taste of coffee lingered between you, and you couldn't help but sigh into her mouth, feeling her smirk against your lips.

When you finally pulled away, Natasha was grinning, eyes glinting with amusement as she used your words against you. “Bold.”

“Well..” You shrugged, trying to play it off even though your heart was racing. “You like bold.”

“I do,” Her voice was a gentle murmur, her thumb brushing your cheek. “And you,” she countered, voice dropping low and teasing, “are exactly the kind of chaos I've been trying to chase all week.”

You perched on the counter edge, swinging your legs. “You might get addicted to my chaos,” you said, leaning forward and pressing your lips against hers once more—a soft, teasing kiss this time before pulling away. “Consider yourself warned.”

Natasha laughed—a low, warm sound—capturing your wrist in her hand and pulling you back gently toward her. “Addicted already, hotshot. I'll need more than one warning.”

Before you could respond, she leaned in, brushing her lips lightly against yours in a feather-light kiss. “See? Bold doesn't always have to come from you,” she whispered against your lips.

You smirked, tipping your head forward and daring her. “Oh? You want to play that game?”

Natasha grinned, low and wolfish. “I always play that game, pretty girl.” She leaned in again, longer this time, and your lips met hers with more insistence. Her hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you close, and you let yourself relax fully against her, running your hands lightly along her arms.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, the Russian's green eyes glinted with mischief. “You're terrible,” she murmured.

Then she reached for a piece of your bagel without asking, and the moment dissolved into playful bickering about food theft.

By the time breakfast was over, you were laughing in your kitchen, still barefoot as you cleaned around, Natasha stealing kisses every time she got the chance—on your cheek, your jaw, and once, scandalously, on your just to see you shiver.

. . . . . . .

With a belly full, you're now curled up on the couch with Natasha, the two of you in a perfect cocoon of warmth. She's got an arm draped around you, fingers lazily tracing patterns over your arm as if she's memorizing every inch of you. The faint scent of coffee lingers in the air, and the sunlight filtering through the curtains makes the whole moment feel unreal—like time slowed down just for you two.

The redhead murmurs, her voice low and husky, lips brushing the crown of your head. “I could get used to this.”

You tilt your head back to look at her, playful. “Lounging around in pyjamas while you bring me breakfast? Yeah, I could get used to this too.”

That earns you a soft smirk. She leans closer, her nose brushing yours. “I'd spoil you like this every day if you'd let me.”

Natasha presses her lips to your temple in a lingering kiss that makes your heart skip. “You're... really something, you know that?”

You smile at the gesture and the sincerity in her voice. “Something good, I hope,” you tease, though there's a vulnerability under your words.

“The best,” The way she looks at you makes you shift, suddenly aware of how close you are. Her hand slips from the couch to rest lightly against your back, coaxing you closer. Your heart stutters at how effortlessly she says it, no hesitation, no shield. Natasha Romanoff doesn't say things she doesn't mean. She hums softly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I don't do and I won't do this with or for anyone else,” she says gently, her hand sliding to cup your jaw. “You are... different. Safer, refreshing. Like I can actually breathe when I'm around you.”

The vulnerability in her tone makes your chest ache in the best of ways so you shift closer, curling into her side, and she lets out a quiet sigh like she's been waiting for this.

“I like you a lot, Y/N,” Nat admits finally, her fingers brushing along your arm. Her lips twitch into the ghost of a smile before her expression softens. “I want this. You. Not just as some... temporary thing.”

You can feel her heartbeat against your side, steady and strong. For a while, there's silence, just her fingers combing gently through your hair. Then she speaks, her voice quieter now. Her hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin with the lightest touch.

“I want to get to know you even more. All of you.” There's a pause before she keeps talking. “And one day, when you're ready... I'd love to meet Maeve too.”

Your breath catches a little at her words, not because you're scared, but because of how genuine she sounds. Natasha Romanoff, this confident, cocky but over-all gorgeous woman who had spent weeks chasing after you, and proved to be different than any other people you had tried to date, was now sitting on your couch talking about wanting to meet your daughter.

“If I'm sticking around, I need to know the tiny human that's part of you.”

You laughed softly, surprised at how warm the words felt coming from her. “Yeah... soon,” you murmured, already anticipating the chaos, laughter, and warmth she was bringing into your life. “But fair warning—she's a handful one.”

The Russian grinned, that wolfish spark in her eyes returning. “Well, I think I can handle that.”

You smile softly, leaning into her touch. “That means a lot, Nat... Really.”

Her eyes flicker with something tender, almost vulnerable. “She's part of you. How could I not want to know her?”

You blink rapidly, fighting the unexpected sting in your eyes. Natasha notices, of course she does, and she leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips, slow and careful like she's afraid of pushing too far.

You kiss her back without hesitation, and when she pulls back, she's smiling softly.

You let out a quiet laugh, tucking yourself closer to her side, and she wraps her arms around you like it's the most natural thing in the world. The rest of the morning passes in this cocoon of warmth : her heartbeat, her quiet humming, her thumb stroking lazy circles on your arm. You keep cuddling on your couch, the TV on—playing a show as a background noise— as you keep making out and sharing each other's warmth.

It feels safe, like home.

Noon rolled by, and it was time for Nat to leave. As much as she would enjoy spending the entire day with you, she couldn't and you understood that.

You made a task of walking her up to the door while kissing her. You weren't usually clingy but the lack of genuine care and warmth (aside from the one you received from your daughter) and the fact that she was actually here for a long time, not just a good time, not to leave right the moment she got what she seeked from you, made you never want to let her go.

She let out a soft, low moan as you bit down her lower lip—making you grin slightly, then she pulled out.

“I'll miss you.” you admit, still glued to her as your hands had slipped past the hem of her hoodie, resting at her waist. “Don't get all cocky when I say this but.. I wish you didn't have to leave. I want to keep kissing you.”

A soft laugh erupted from her throat, accompanied by a smile. She cupped your cheeks “I wish that too, sweetheart, and I'll miss you even more.” She leaned in, brushing her lips lightly against yours—a promise of more to come. “I'll see you soon, pretty girl,” she whispered.

. . . . . . . .

author's note ; longest one i've put together so far! i was planning on making this a one shot (with the rest of the fic) but it was going up to 19k words count and that ... is a lot in one go 😀

anyways, thank you for your time :) i hope i didn't disappoint! soft nat will forever be cherished <3

part 2 out soon!

(ps : inbox is open if you have any suggestions for how the meeting with Maeve should go or anything about this au, if it is even one atp)

[coralaze]

teen sevika! having a crush on you headcannons.

Sevika’s crush on you starts quiet — like a spark caught in her chest that she doesn’t know what to do with. You’re from the Lanes too, always hanging around the same scrapyard she does, scavenging for bits to trade. She likes watching how careful your hands are when you pick through the junk, the way you hum when you find something good. It’s stupid, she tells herself. You’re just some girl with a pretty smile. But she can’t stop staring.

She doesn’t know how to talk to you, so she doesn’t. Not directly. Instead, she starts showing up wherever you are. If you’re fixing something? She’s there, pretending to need parts too. If you’re talking to someone? She lingers nearby, pretending to be busy while glaring at anyone who gets too close. She thinks she’s being subtle. Everyone else knows she’s not.

The first time you actually talk to her, it’s because she helps you carry something heavy — an engine core twice your size. You smile at her and say, "You’re stronger than you look." Sevika swears her brain short-circuits. She mumbles something like, "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta help the weak ones," trying to sound cool. You laugh. She spends the rest of the night lying awake, replaying that laugh over and over like a fool.

Sevika’s not good with feelings. So she channels them into stupid acts — punching guys who tease you, fixing things you leave half-broken, leaving gifts on your doorstep and pretending it wasn’t her. A wrench. A chunk of shimmer ore. A small knife she sharpened herself. You always somehow know it’s her, even when she denies it.

The day she hears someone else flirt with you, she sees red. She’s halfway through decking the guy before she even realizes it. You pull her back, scolding her, telling her it wasn’t a big deal. She just grumbles something about "he had it coming." But when you look at her with those soft eyes and say, "You don’t have to fight for me, Sevika," she doesn’t know how to tell you that she already would — a hundred times over.

She starts training harder after that. Fights in the underground rings, takes hits just to prove she can handle them. When you patch her up after one of those fights, scolding her for being reckless, she feels something heavy in her chest. You’re touching her — gentle, careful — and for a second, she wishes she could just stay in that moment forever.

Sevika’s friends tease her constantly. "That’s your girl, huh?" they’d joke, nudging her when you pass by. She always denies it, rough voice snapping "Shut up, she ain’t mine." But when you turn around and wave at her, her whole posture changes — shoulders dropping, expression softening. She waves back awkwardly. And yeah, they all see it.

Once, she walks you home after curfew. Zaun’s streets are darker than usual, filled with shimmer mist and danger, but you’re laughing the whole way — telling her some dumb story about your day. She doesn’t even listen to the words; she just watches your face glow in the flickering neon lights. When you thank her for walking you, she says, "Anytime." And she means it.

One night, she finally blurts it out. Not a confession — not quite. Just a half-mumbled, "I like… being around you.” You grin and say, “I like being around you too, big girl." Sevika turns scarlet. You don’t see her for three days after that. When she finally shows up again, she’s grumpier than usual, but her eyes find yours across the room, and that tiny, secret smile gives her away.

Years later, when she thinks back to her youth — to the mess, the fights, the hunger, the shimmer haze — she’ll remember one thing clearly: you. The girl who laughed too loud in a city that ate softness alive. The one who made Sevika feel something before the world hardened her. And if she ever catches herself smiling for no reason, it’s probably because she remembered that feeling again — the way her heart used to beat faster when you said her name.

[tornnup]

A Secret (Sort of)

(Baran Al-Hashimi x Chief of Surgery fem!Reader)

(based on this request here !)

Summary : Baran and her wife both get jobs at the PTMC. Keeping their relationship secret to stay professional proves a little harder than they thought it would be when Princess and Perlah see the two of you leaving together.

Warnings / tags : tooth rotting fluff, minor sexual references, pet names (azizam, my love)

Notes : THIS REQUEST WAS SOOOO CUTE i had so much fun writing this after getting back from break lmao

The alarm clock rings beside your bed, immediately causing you to groan and slowly open your eyes. The first thing you see; Baran Al-Hashimi, smiling down at you. Clearly, your wife had already been awake for hours. As per usual.

“Good morning, azizam.” She says softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, gently brushing your hair to the side. “Work in an hour, okay?”

You and Baran have been working at the PTMC for a week and a half now. Neither of you were sure about the job when you were offered the position of interim Chief of Surgery—filling in for a Dr. Allan, who is now out on maternity leave—until Baran was offered her position as the new attending for the hospital’s ED. It was like the stars had aligned. You two started together that same week.

No one at work knew about the two of you. You’d agreed to keep your marriage quiet just to avoid the gossip you two knew would come with a relationship as coworkers. It had been working. Mostly. Well, other than with two of the doctors from the ED. Dr. Mohan and Dr. King. Samira knew the second you came down to The Pitt to help with a case. She recognized you from some photos Baran had shown her when they worked together, of you with her son. Samira, being Samira, was just happy to see you. She pretty much figured your relationship was a given after her work with Baran in the past. You hadn’t been coworkers back then, but, still, Samira was nothing but supportive. Dr. King figured it out… a little differently, having never actually met or seen any photos of Baran’s wife in the time they worked together. When you were leaving the ED after coming to “check on a patient” (Baran’s son was sick and you had to tell her before leaving to go pick him up) Mel spotted the two of you. Mid kiss. Then watched you pull away, staring at Baran with lovesick eyes, hands slid into her hair, holding her close. She actually let out an audible “awww” at the sight. When you both had turned to look at her, she just smiled, gave an awkward thumbs up, mouthed a quiet “sorry” and headed out to go catch her bus. Similarly to Samira, Mel just assumed your relationship was a given. A really cute given.

After the two women were in the loop, work was even easier. Baran had already been close with Samira, but now found herself checking in on both her and Mel more than the other doctors. Almost… maternally. With such trust and care that the two women always thought of Baran first for advice—in and outside of work. And with you? They actually got a little gossip about Baran. Well, not necessarily gossip. More like… stories about dates, about your family trips with your son, all the sickeningly romantic insights into Baran’s personal life that she usually kept far from her work life. Plus, you obviously weren’t too bad at giving medical advice. You and Baran showed up as support like water in a desert for two young doctors who both desperately needed something of a loving mother figure in their lives.

“There you are.”

Baran’s voice comes out softly from behind you in the hospital locker room. The day had gone by fast—only a few major surgeries today along with some smaller cases—and, of course, Baran found you as soon as she could slip away from her shift after night shift handoffs.

“Ready to go, my love?” She asks as she comes up behind you, arm sliding around your waist, lips pressing to the side of your neck.

“Ready.” You nod back, tilting your head to catch her lips in a kiss. Baran responds immediately, smiling against your mouth, curls—messy from her shift—brushing your neck as she leans in.

“Alright.” She mumbles as she pulls away for just a moment. “Kaveh is waiting at home with the babysitter. I told him we’d read him his book tonight for his reading journal for school.” Baran leans back in for another chaste, soft kiss between every word, even when she’s trying to be serious about planning her son’s nightly routine. “And I'm confident most of the ED staff has already left. So I'm sure we’re good to go.”

Baran finally pulls away after one last lingering kiss. She’s got a soft smile on her lips. The kind she always has when she looks at you with those big, loving eyes. Especially when she catches you like this, practically melting into her touches.

“Perfect.” As you sling your bag over your shoulder, you take Baran’s hand, leaning in for one quick kiss as you walk off towards the staff parking lot.

The sun is already almost fully set as you step outside. Baran is telling you about a case as you walk hand in hand towards the car. It’s quiet. Just the two of you, walking together, debriefing the day like usual.

Except it’s not like usual. Not exactly. Because, across the parking lot, leaning against her car is Princess. Sharing a bag of fruit snacks with Perlah, both gossiping in low voices as they watch the city. And then Perlah looks up. The first thing she sees is her attending… hand in hand with the chief of surgery. Her eyes go wide. She nudges Princess immediately, snapping her out of the story she was telling about Dr. Robby and Whitaker. Princess lets out an audible gasp at the sight. No one in the ED knew anything much about Baran’s personal life. And now she’s here, sliding into her car with her coworker in tow. They come to their conclusion in a matter of seconds:

Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi is fucking the chief of surgery.

For the next week, Princess and Perlah really try to keep it quiet. Dana is the first to hear. Just because of a little slip up! And then Trinity. That one… well, that was on purpose. Their gossip circle doesn’t keep any secrets. Especially not ones this juicy. And then, like dominoes falling into line, Dennis figures out. And Javadi.

Yeah, it actually only takes 6 days for half the ED to think that their attending is sleeping with their chief of surgery. Not even an entire week. It’s a shock that by the time two weeks pass of everyone on the staff trying to catch you and Baran together, no one’s let anything slip in front of Baran.

But of course that dam had to break eventually.

When you’re leaving after coming down to help with a case—some idiot teenager having fallen off a skateboard—Trinity finally asks what everyone has been thinking.

“Okay, are you two…” She gives Baran a look, raising her eyebrows. It’s pretty fucking clear what she means. “…or do you just give goo-goo eyes to every new chief of surgery?”

The room goes quiet. Samira, who is just taking off her gloves, looks totally confused. Everyone else is watching Baran.

“We are sleeping together, if that’s what you’re asking, Dr. Santos.” Baran says it so casually. With an almost smug smile on her face. And without any kind of further explanation, she tosses her gloves into the disposal bin and heads for the door. “I’m going to go check in on that asthma case.”

Trinity’s eyes are wide as she watches Baran leave the room. She turns to Samira with her jaw slack. “Dr. Al is fucking the chief of surgery. No fucking way.”

Samira just blinks. “Well, yeah.”

“Yeah?” Trinity scoffs. “Come on, this is big news for Robo-doc.”

“But, I mean… they’ve been married for 16 years. It’s not that surprising that they’re still… active.” Samira looks around the room, brows furrowing when she sees the shock on Trinity, Cassie and Dana’s faces. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“16 years.” Dana’s the one who perks up next. “Dr. Al’s been married for 16 years? And didn’t think to mention that to anyone?” She shakes her head, a real smile on her lips. “I’ll be damned.”

“You mean you guys didn’t know?” Clearly, Samira had been a little out of the loop with the circulating gossip.

In the following weeks, you practically become a member of the ED staff. Every time anyone passes you in the hall, they give a warm smile and a quick hello. Trinity even goes as far as to stop you and ask if Baran’s been keeping any other major secrets she can tell Princess and Perlah. Baran stays professional, as always, at work… but gets a little less careful once her shifts end. She kisses you outside the doors to The Pitt before leaving, long and slow after rough shifts, not caring who sees anymore. Robby even sees Baran playfully slap your ass one time as you’re leaving the department. He chooses to say nothing.

Samira and Mel even end up closer to you. Sometimes, they go as far as to make up excuses just to visit the surgery unit to ask you for advice on… anything, really. Whenever Baran sees you talking to one of the two of them, she softens just a bit. The same way she does when she sees you playing with Kaveh—that maternal, guiding instinct she always loves seeing shining through like warm sunlight through the blinds of your bedroom. It’s those moments when she always falls just a bit more in love with you.

[spiderb00]

- TEARS RUN DOWN..., M.B

"Manon has dated idiots her whole life. So imagine her reaction when she sees that you're actually functional"

warnings - fluff, implied sex, reader is oblivious, Manon has wild thoughts (kinda)

now playing - Tears, by Sabrina Carpenter

"Treating me like you're supposed to do. Tears run down my thighs"

The first week was good, the second was wonderful, but after the third, Manon began to see things differently.

She wouldn't lie if you asked her, but things started to change in Manon's eyes when she had a talk with Sophie. Nothing serious, just the Swiss girl talking about how helpful you were and always doing things for her. And then, in the next second, when Sophie said that was rare to find, Manon's brain took her on a trip down memory lane—more specifically, a trip down her ex-relationships.

Something clicked for Manon.

No one was like you.

Some were good-looking, but completely clueless, lazy, and utterly exhausting. Some were less attractive—in the girl's opinion—and for some reason, they started acting like smug jerks, just because they were dating someone as beautiful and talented as Manon.

Not you!

You had the right kind of beauty, that element that made everyone look at you twice. You are kind, helpful, romantic, funny, and definitely not at all like anyone Manon has ever been with.

The curly-haired girl remembers returning home a little thoughtful after that conversation. She unlocked the door to the house you shared, sighing, still with her best friend's heavy words in her head. Distractedly taking off her shoes, her head was high enough not to notice the scent of lavender that was spreading through the house.

What brought Manon out of her reverie was your voice coming from the kitchen, humming a song she knew very well! Approaching the kitchen, the Swiss girl saw you, with your back to her, water running freely in the sink as you washed the dishes. Your feet were bare on the wooden floor, your sweatpants hung lazily on your hips, and there was no sign of a shirt anywhere nearby.

There you were, washing the dishes, shirtless, wearing only a sports bra and gray sweatpants, humming Gabriela as if it were the most joyful activity you could do in life!

Manon didn't say a word, but you noticed her presence. Turning slightly, you smiled at your girlfriend, who was still frozen in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.

“Good evening, babe!” The smile on your face was beautiful, and for a moment, Manon swore she could watch you smile forever. "How was your evening? I took advantage of your absence to tidy up the house. It's been a mess these last few days!"

For the first time, Manon took her eyes off you, looking around and finally realizing why the smell of lavender was so strong in her nose.

Drying your hands, you walked over to your girlfriend, stopping in front of her just to grab her waist and pull her toward you.

“Where's my kiss, woman?!” Raising your eyebrow playfully, you waited for some reaction from Manon.

“Did you clean the whole house?” Her voice sounded like a mixture of suspicious and impressed.

You just nodded.

“Well, I didn't know when you'd be back... and I know you drink a lot when you go out with Sophie, so I made your favorite, in case you're hungry and want dinner.”

It was true. She drank a lot when she went out with Sophie, she always came home hungry. The others never cared, in fact, it could often lead to an argument. But here you were, saying you remembered her, and cared enough to make her favorite dish. You didn't fight with her for going out with her friends, you didn't make sarcastic jokes, you weren't harsh, you weren't rude... you were nothing but adorable.

And that really got Manon.

Smiling sweetly, the woman grabbed your cheeks, pulling you into a delicate kiss. Your girlfriend's lips felt like heaven, and her tongue tasted like alcohol and strawberries. You didn't care.

You loved it.

“Thank you for doing this for me, babe.” Manon's eyes were wide, her pupils dilated enough for all the excitement she was feeling. “But tonight, you're my dinner!”

Surprised by the curly-haired woman's words, you couldn't even speak, at least not when you felt Manon jump over the hem of your sweatpants, pulling you right behind her as you both went upstairs.

You don't remember how it started, but after going out with your friends, the waitress started being overly friendly with you at some point. You didn't know how to be rude, but you gave the woman several hints that you weren't available.

But still, here you and Manon were, arguing inside your house.

“YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO ACT WHEN THIS HAPPENS! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW ANNOYING THIS IS?!” Manon's screams were getting too loud.

And even though you didn't mind her venting the anger she was feeling, you were worried she would wake up hoarse the next morning.

“Honey, can we not yell at each other? Please!” You tried.

“OH, NOW YOU WANT TO BE DISCREET?” The Swiss woman moved closer to you, her finger poking your chest hard. “YOU DIDN'T MIND BEING DISCREET WHEN THAT BITCH HIT ON YOU!”

“I pushed her away! You saw that. Everyone saw that.” You held her hand. “My love, I understand why you're angry, but you saw everything. I don't want anyone else! I want you!”

Your words hit Manon in the pit of her stomach!

How could you understand her? How could you not be trying to shout louder? How could you be being responsible and a good communicator?

And then, that feeling again. That same strange warmth that had been haunting Manon since you started sharing your lives more deeply. That same warmth that always visited her when you were being extremely mature and responsible, that same warmth that happened when you solved everything for her, when you didn't let her carry heavy things, or when you did anything even remotely emotionally intelligent.

Considering that she had feelings... she can't remember the last time any of her partners did that!

Why were her clothes still on?

Manon didn't think twice.

Her lips on yours were the next thing you felt. Her hands tangling in your hair as if they had always belonged there. Your hands reached for her waist, hearing your girlfriend sigh into your mouth as you squeezed.

Without breaking the kiss, Manon jumped on you. Her legs wrapped around your hips without warning—she knew you'd be strong enough to catch her.

“I'm sorry, babe.” It was the first time she had ever said that in an argument like this. “Let's go upstairs, and I'll show you how sorry I am!”

You didn't know what had changed. But you certainly weren't going to say no!

The next day, Manon woke up with a smile on her face. Her muscles ached in all the right places, her hair was a little messy from the night before, and she had nothing to complain about.

Except for the fact that you left her alone in bed.

Snorting, the woman finally left the bedroom, going downstairs after a quick stop in the bathroom and doing all her morning hygiene routine. The house was silent, the floor was cold, and the living room was too empty for Manon's tastes.

With her curls messy and her feet bare, Manon walked toward the backyard where the pool and the grill were located. The sun's rays streamed freely through the glass door, as did Manon's view of you.

Right there, on your knees, was you, with a red toolbox at your side, assembling an IKEA dining chair like a pro. Your T-shirt was off again, and this time, instead of sweatpants, you were wearing worn-out denim shorts—the same ones you always wore when doing something that might get dirty.

Manon bit her lower lip, moaning internally and leaning against the doorframe.

“Not again!” were the words that came out of her mouth.

Even as her brain was practically commanding her mouth to start salivating.

Manon had already assembled a chair like that, but seeing you do it was a completely different thing.

“Why does she have to be so good?” The curly-haired woman's smile grew wider as her mind raced with impure thoughts.

You noticed her presence, as always. Turning quickly and dropping the tools as if they were suddenly the most uninteresting thing in the world.

“Hey, babe!” You approached her. “Sorry for getting out of bed, but I didn't want to wake you up early on your day off.” You wiped your hands on your shorts. “And the dining room chairs finally arrived, and I wanted to assemble them before you woke up.”

Leaning over, you kissed Manon on the forehead.

Enjoying the affection, the woman closed her eyes, letting you spoil her the way she had always dreamed of.

“Hey, you already snuck out of bed. At least give me a kiss of respect!”

Laughing at what the shorter woman said, you grabbed her by the waist. Pressing her body against yours, you kissed Manon with all the passion in the world. Her hands wandered over your arms, squeezing your biceps and caressing your bare shoulders.

“I made breakfast for you.” Manon moaned, and you frowned.

“What's wrong? Don't you want to eat?” Your voice made Manon melt.

“Do you have to be so perfect at everything?”

Pausing for a second to think, you laughed at what your girlfriend said. Hugging her waist and kissing her forehead again.

“Is that so bad?” Your question made Manon look at you and smile.

Breaking free from your embrace, the shorter woman stood on her tiptoes, just enough to reach your ear.

“It's never going to be bad.” Her lips kissed your cheek. “It just makes me so fucking wet!”

Your eyebrows rose, and the words stuck in your throat. Manon walked away swaying her hips, and you swore that this woman would be the death of you.

ANOTHER FANFICTION WITH SABRINA SONGS!!!

I'm so excited! I've wanted to write to Manon for so long!!! I love this girl, and honestly, I desperately need more fanfiction from her.

Anyway, I hope you are all well. I'm running out of time. I finished my project, but now I'm officially in exam week. I'm studying like crazy, but I couldn't let this one pass me by!!!

Take care, stay safe, and don't forget to drink water.

XOXO, Spider.