SYNOPSIS: Never in a million years you thought you'd have to thank a TikTok trend for helping you hook up with the hottest girl you've ever seen.
WC: 2.4k | CW: vi x fem!reader. nsfw, mdni. fingering (r!receiving), vi's a praiser, public sex (a club's bathroom). it's a quickie, some good old fashioned pwp.
a/n: i... have a thing with writing public bathroom sex with vi lol we're officially entering p&b's last couple of days! i still have two nsfw wips + pending requests but feel free to drop any ideas on my ask. enjoyyyy
The club is exactly what you needed tonight. It’s loud enough to drown your own thoughts, and crowded enough that no one expects you to make conversation. You’re here with your friends Mira and Jade, tucked into a little corner near the VIP section with a good view of basically everything, which is why you can’t help noticing her.
She’s standing with a group of friends near the opposite end of the bar, wearing a dark tank top, muscular arms on full display. Her hair’s a bold, unapologetic hot shade of pink that somehow manages to catch every light in the club. Every few moments, she looks around and scans the crowd with an intimidating confidence. And for the nth time tonight, those bright powder-blue eyes find you.
The first time it happened, you almost choked on your drink. The second time, you quickly looked away, suddenly very interested in your phone. By the third time, you just let yourself meet her gaze for a beat longer than you should, admiring the smirk that spread across her lips.
Now, she’s laughing with her friends and throwing her head back without a care.
“Girl, what are you staring at?” Jade nudges you, following your line of sight. “Oh, she’s totally your type.”
“She’s so fucking hot,” Mira leans in. “You have to take her home tonight.”
You’re saved from having to respond by a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turn around to find a girl with purple glitter on her cheekbones and an excited smile. There’s a tag that has the word “staff” written on pinned to her top.
“Hey! We’re doing this game tonight to celebrate Pride,” she gestures behind her, and your brows lift up at the sight of two girls are making out against the wall. “It’s trending on TikTok. We’re asking hot people who they’d make out with, then try to make it happen. You in?”
Your friends are suddenly very interested. Mira’s practically vibrating with excitement beside you, while Jade let’s out a playful gasp and grabs your wrist to shake it happily.
“She is!”
“Uh,” before you can overthink it, you nod. “Yeah, okay. Sounds fun.”
The staff girl beams. “Great! Lemme start recording.”
She gives her phone to her coworker, stepping up closer to you as she grabs a mini wireless mic. The guy gives you a thumbs up as he starts recording, and the staff girl shoots at smile toward the camera.
“Onto our next hottie!” she turns to look at you. “Who would you make out with if you could, babe?”
Your eyes betray you immediately, glancing toward the pink-haired girl at the bar without hesitation. She’s mid-laugh with her friends, that sharp jawline catching the light. Heat floods your entire face.
God, hopefully this does not go viral.
“That girl on the bar,” you say quietly, pointing across the room. “The one with the pink hair.”
The staff girl’s face lights up. “Oh, she’s hot! Okay, I’m gonna go talk to her. Stay here, yeah?”
Before you can second-guess yourself, both of the staff members are gone, weaving through the crowd toward the bar. Your friends are losing it— Mira’s practically screaming into her hands, Jade’s squeezing your arm hard enough to leave marks.
Vi’s downing down third drink of the night, completely clueless at what’s going on the other end of the club, when someone taps her shoulder. She turns around to find one of the club’s marketing staff vibrating with energy, while the other has a phone in hand pointed right at her.
“Hey! Question, would you be down to play our game?” The staff girl doesn’t even wait for a real answer before continuing. “We’re asking people who’d they make out with, and we try and make it happen. It’s for TikTok, just for funsies.”
Vi’s about to say no, she’s not really the viral TikTok type, when the staff girl adds something that catches her attention.
“There’s actually this really cute girl who picked you.”
Vi tilts her head to the side, brows knitting together. “Yeah? Who?”
The staff girl points across the room, and Vi’s eyes follow the direction of her finger directly to a girl from the VIP section. She’s taken aback once she notices it’s you, the girl who’s been catching her eye all night. But now you’re staring at her with flushed cheeks, your friends clearly freaking out beside you.
“Hell yeah,” Vi says, and she must sound pretty eager because the staff girl is grinning like she’s just made the best deal of her life. “Yeah, I’m in. Let’s do it.”
“Amazing! Let’s go introduce you, c’mon, c’mon.”
Vi can feel her heart pounding in her throat as she follows the staff girl through the crowd, leaving her drink and her friends behind. This is stupid, she’s being stupid. But maybe, the universe is doing her a favor here, because she’s been trying to figure out to talk to you all night without looking like a creep.
The staff girl leads her right up to the VIP section, and there you are. Up close, she finds you even more striking. And you’re clearly nervous, which for some reason she thinks it’s absolutely endearing.
“Okay, ready?” the staff girl positions herself in front of the phone again, smiling brightly as her coworker starts recording. “So! We’re here with—”
You lean into the mic as she props it toward you. “Y/N.”
Your voice is softer than Vi expected. Your eyes meet again, and the corner of Vi’s mouth tugs upward.
“And—”
“I’m Vi,” she says, taking a step closer toward you. Close enough she can feel the warmth radiating off your skin and catch the subtle scent of your perfume.
The staff girl steps back, grinning with excitement. “So, are you guys gonna—”
Vi raises an eyebrow in question, giving you a chance to back out to if you want to. Your cheeks are impossibly red, but you rest your hands over Vi’s arms and caress them lightly.
That’s all the permission she needs.
Vi reaches out, hand finding your jaw with surprising gentleness, and tilts your chin up before closing the distance. At first, it’s a bit shy— she’s hyperaware of the staff members recording, of your friends losing their minds, and her own friends probably watching in shock from across the room. But the second she feels you lean into her, control goes out the window.
She pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, and you let out a low moan that goes straight through Vi like lightning. She slides one hand to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, and the kiss becomes more urgent.
Your fingers find the way up to her shoulders and dig slightly into the skin there, kissing her back with an intensity that steals Vi’s breath and makes her head spin. She tilts her head, and even gets a taste of the fruity drink you had earlier.
The crowd and the cameras and everything else fades away the moment she feels you bite gently at her lower lip. Her grip on your hair tightens slightly, and you shudder against her.
When she finally pulls back, fighting every instinct to just keep kissing you, both of you are breathing hard. All Vi can focus is on you— the way you’re biting your lower lip, hands still on her shoulders, chest heaving, lips swollen and glistening from the kiss.
“Okay, that’s definitely— yeah, thanks,” the staff girl laughs, shaking her head as they stop recording. “I think we got it. You two… wow.”
But Vi’s already thinking ahead. The club is packed, and she wants you alone now. She needs you.
She leans just enough to murmur against your ear, low enough only for you to hear. “Wanna go somewhere more private?”
You nod without hesitation, and Vi takes your hand as she leads you toward the back of the club. Your friends and the staff members move out of the way, not before Mira let’s out an excited gasp.
The staff girl groans, throwing her head back. “Ugh, not again.”
Luckily, the bathroom is empty. Vi barely lets the door close behind you before she’s pushing you against it, hands finding your waist, and kissing you again. You gasp into her mouth and immediately kiss her back, your hands sliding up her back and settling on her shoulders.
Vi shifts you two around, walking you backward until the backs of your legs hit the counter, and she lifts you up easily, settling you on the edge with a low grunt of effort.
“This okay?” she asks, pulling back just enough to check in.
“Yeah,” you breathe, pulling her closer. “Yeah, more than okay.”
Vi dips her head and starts kissing along your jawline, down your neck, and finding that sensitive spot where your shoulder meets your collarbone that makes you gasp. She sucks lightly, not hard enough to bruise, just enough to leave a small mark for you to remember her.
Your hands find the hem of her tank top and you’re pulling it up slightly, running your fingers across her abs, and Vi shivers. She pulls back enough to look at you, eyes dark with desire.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” she says, and there’s tenderness in her voice despite the intensity of the moment.
“Listen, you’re so kind,” you start, staring at her from beneath your eyelashes, “but I need you to fuck me, please.”
You capture her lips again, fingers threading through her pink hair and tugging gently, and she groans into your mouth. Her hands slide from your waist to your thighs, gripping slightly as she pulls you closer to the edge of the counter.
You can feel how much she wants you by the way her hands shake slightly as they move over your skin, the way she’s breathing hard between kisses, the way she keeps saying your name whenever you dig your nails into her skin.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Vi murmurs against your neck, lips lapping at that sensitive spot again.
She pulls back to look at you properly, and you can feel your stomach twist at the sight— her hair is slightly messed up, her lips are red and swollen, and her eyes look at you with such hunger and intensity your legs start trembling.
The sound of the club throbs outside, the bass vibrating through the walls, but you’re more focused on the soft sounds you’re both making. Vi’s thigh presses between yours, and you gasp, your head falling back against the mirror behind you. She takes the opportunity to kiss down your throat, her hands finding the curve of your waist and sliding under your shirt.
“Tell me what you want,” she whispers against your skin.
You’re too caught up in the feeling of her against you, all you can manage to answer with are soft gasps and whimpers.
Vi pulls back suddenly, and the loss of her touch makes you whine. She grabs your chin gently but firmly, forcing you to meet her eyes.
“Hey,” her voice is lower now, commanding in a way that makes heat pool between your legs. “Use your words.”
There’s a sharp intensity in her eyes that you weren’t expecting at all. God, she is so hot.
“C’mon,” her thumb brushes across your jawline. “Want me to fuck you or not?”
“Your fingers,” the words tumble out. “Please. I need your fingers inside me.”
Vi doesn’t waste any time. She pushes your skirt up around your waist and runs a finger along the inside of your thigh, tracing the edge of your underwear, and she hisses as she can feel how soaked you are even through the fabric.
“So wet for me already,” she murmurs almost to herself, and the statement makes heat flood to your cheeks. She hooks a finger into your underwear and pulls it aside, exposing you completely. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
She slides a finger inside you slowly, and the sensation is so intense you have to grip her shoulders to stay upright. She sets a slow pace, fingers curling just right they have you gasping her name.
“You’re taking me so well.”
You bite your lip, trying to be quiet, but Vi notices and pulls back slightly.
“No,” she says firmly, adding a second finger. The stretch is so delicious it makes you arch into her. “I want to hear you.”
You stop trying to muffle yourself, gasping and moaning as she works her fingers inside you. Her thumb finds your clit and starts circling with just the right amount of pressure.
“Fuck, Vi,” you manage, your nails digging into her back. “Just… holy shit… just like that.”
“I know, baby,” she says, and it’s such a contrast. The soft endearment mixed with the way she’s absolutely wrecking you. “You’re doing so good for me.”
A few moments later, your orgasm hits you hard, waves of pleasure rolling through you as you bury your face in her neck and try not to scream her name. Vi works you through it, her movements slowing but not stopping, dragging out every last bit of pleasure.
When you finally come down from it, you’re shaking and gasping for breath. Vi carefully pulls her hand away and brings her fingers to her mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact with you.
“Fuck,” you breathe, reaching for her waistband to pull her closer.
“Wait,” she catches your wrist, and there’s genuine reluctance in her voice. “As much as I want to, we should probably get back before they send security down here.”
You pout, but you know that she’s right. It’s been a while since you first entered the bathroom, and someone’s definitely going to come looking for you both soon.
“I know, but,” Vi continues, helping you down from the counter and smoothing your skirt down, “I’d love to take you out properly someday.”
A grin spreads across your face. “Really?”
She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, her touch gentle now, almost reverent. She pulls you close and places a soft kiss on your lips, a stark contrast to the passion of moments before.
“Can I have your number?” she asks against your lips.
“Yeah,” you agree immediately.
After exchanging phone numbers, both of you slip back out into the club and head into different directions. Your friends spot you immediately, and both practically run toward you.
“Oh my God, where have you been?” Mira shouts over the music.
“We were wondering if we needed to like, call security or something,” Jade adds.
You feel heat creep up to your neck, but you’re smiling so hard your face hurts. You catch Vi’s eye across the room, and she’s got that lazy satisfied smirk on her face, running a hand through her pink her.
Huh... guess you'll need to thank that staff girl and her TikTok trend.
it all starts when you get the first place in the competition.
boiling red, violet vanderson's in the scenario too but instead, she's holding a lame third-place award, smaller, not made of gold, embarrassing. only serves as a reminder of her failure and the overwhelming sense of not being good enough to be holding the gold you're holding between your hands, first place.
cocky cunt — can't you just give her a break for ten minutes? not look at her with that funny smile on your face as if you're mocking her lack of talent. you look so stupid with a recognition you don't deserve.
and surely, vi's the biggest loser in the building.
when the crowd cheers as you're given a fat check from the prize and her eyes melt in envy, she cannot help but give you that look of disgust you can see mid-way the wide smile on your lips so you're now aware of how she feels about you: the hatred that comes from deep down due to the doubts you planted in her brain about her own skills (one thing is to win the second place, but the third? fucking stupid, delusional even) so it's funny in the end how she can get so annoyed to the point it turns her into a monster.
you've spoken with her, what? one? two times? forgettable interactions only making dumb questions that makes vi roll her eyes, always playing the optimistic card around people when asking what needle size is she using, if she prefers a curved magnum instead of a normal one when it comes to shading as if some of that mattered. an annoying prick with a cute face.
"good tattoo," you say when greeting her, but vi don't say a word in reply and it makes you laugh cause hell — you know people like her, ready to cut throat if necessary, unable to take a compliment from the competition, the enemy. "i don't know why you didn't get the second place, i think it's a really good piece."
"thanks."
you fucking rat. was that to punch her ego to death? suddenly vi wishes to never see your face again, turn around, practice double the harder and come back next year to take not only the money, but your pretty golden award that shines like diamonds under the yellow lights, that being said — how exactly she ended up in that party hours later, the one your friends throw after the event and gathers everyone around for a beer or two, meet new people, a celebration she does not belong in as there's nothing to celebrate about.
truth is? makes her feel pathetic, bronze medal on her chest, talking to people who congratulate her as if the third spot is something good and nothing to be ashamed of, as if vi's not going to toss it to the trash the very same moment she steps in her little apartment: the real problem here is that her friends also happen to be your friends and after being insisted on drinking her problems away, she's there regretting all of her decisions who only stab her in the back.
stabbing.
she's taking a lot of bad decisions lately — clearly, cause on a scale of one to ten, how much of a hypocrite would violet be when she's fucking you in front of the bathroom mirror almost two hours later? funny. when she's pushing your face against the surface so your cheek's now squished against the cold, hard to speak as she gets off from the sound your moans make as they slowly fill the bathroom she made sure of locking.
yeah-- how much of an asshole would she be when admitting how much it turns her on to see you there struggling to breathe with her medal around your neck? free hand that pulls diagonally and has the ribbon pushing perfectly against your throat: how did she end up crossing that thin line that diffuses the hate and love? taking advantage of you in a dirty bathroom instead of calling you out for being an asshole.
"you really are a hot third place," you say, and it's the laugh that pisses her off, your games while she pushes you harder against the mirror. you smell like weed, there is alcohol on her own breath, and it's a shame, but vi does not remember now why she was following you to the bathroom, ready to scream something about your constant mocking, of how you didn't deserve to win fucking anything. "even for a fucking loser you're not that bad."
it's violet now the one that suffers from a cocky smile, when you feel bold even when the strap on's well secured around her waist, tightly around each leg as she buries herself harder in your soaked cunt and uses both hands now to hold you in place, not really kind, far from the usual mercy as she squeezes your waist in hopes to keep you up in your feet, remind you about how you both are in a party still and not somewhere you can slip.
what did you expect, anyway? a pat on the shoulder and a kiss on the cheek? it hits just right when her nails dig in your skin and she doesn't have to pretend to care about the pain it produces, how well it blends with the way her hips move now against you, sharp, controlled movements, how vi doesn't need to say a word cause you're melting in her arms and she keeps fucking you to her own fun, her own desires.
is it bad if it turns you on to notice how quickly violet vanderson can put you back to where you belong? jeans on the floor, underwear made halfway to the side, you're now vulnerable to her, trying to spread your legs further apart so she can go deeper even if the space is almost non-existent, tits crushed against the mirror and her own body, you're leaking against the blue dildo and making a mess out of vi's black boxers to the point she's sure it will leave a stain behind, a new victim to that delicious sound she can hear even from over the loud music outside, the one of your soaked pussy does when making space for her, when you invite her in.
there it fucking is. erratic moans, the gold medal looks better in her own chest more than it ever did in yours, ruined face imprinted in her brain now that you look back at her with pleading eyes, begging to go harder, deeper, anything so you can cum all over her rubber cock and vi can feel like a winner again.
"gonna make you my fool now," she replies in your ear, a reminder of how she's always in control — "gonna steal your first place and keep you to myself."
is it hatred now? holy shit, it's getting hard to tell. the music's so loud she's having trouble to hear her own thoughts and concentrate about anything but the way your body reacts to her touch, craving for more, needing her closer even when you spat incoherent words while she has a personal fight with your shirt, struggling for a moment to take it off due to the impatience and kiss the soft skin of your shoulders, nibble on the curve of your neck that now seems so tempting to bite, leave a hickey or two so you can be ashamed of it after, of how you let a loser take control of your surroundings, yourself.
take what's her own and let her take in return what's yours, let her invade so you become one, let her make a mess out of you as a reminder of who's actually better, of who deserves to be carrying the gold medal: she hates you, right? she hates you when she shoves a finger in your mouth and you gently bite the digit, it's that visceral feeling-- that need of having you drunk on her smell, on the feeling her cock leaves behind every time vi's hips withdraw entirely and you're hollow for a second before she fucks you back again so the rubber balls hit your entrance and you moan in plain delirious. full of her.
"don't cum yet," she orders, ignoring whoever is knocking on the door and daring herself to boss you around cause shit, she calls the shots, right? making you sweat in your cute little outfit, palm of the hand over your stomach so she can have the perfect angle to pull your ass back to her cock right how she wants you to be — "fucking hear me? nod when i speak to you. don't cum."
"yes--" at this point? vi's clit swollen too, the friction, the moment, she's soaked and it's easy to make her like the feeling, the way your ass searches for the rubber turning her sensitive on each thrust, "yes-- i hear you."
worst white lies have been told before, but she's moaning against your ear, moving with you and it's hard to say anything to take the contrary, remind her about how she's the third place still and you're not at her will. it's hard when vi's sucking on your neck like a vampire and her weight crushes you down, when she uses a hand to spread your ass for her cock and she doesn't care about the saliva coating her fingers, about how soaked you are so it's now staining your inner legs like the most delicious proof of want, how much time she's been locked with you in that shitty bathroom so there's visibly line outside, think of anything else other than how good she is at fucking the alleged enemy.
"c'mon- fuck yourself good-- let me see you" it's growing on her now, a sight that surpasses somehow winning any gold: ass moving on it's own rhythm so her thumb can slide through your folds and land on your clit, gently stroking it in slow circles to add even more pleasure, greedy when taking her time in touching and getting to know which parts leave you breathless, helping you move against the strap-on so you reach the very deep and take her entirely, no cheat.
who are you to blame when you cum? does nothing but drive the pink haired crazy, the narrow space boiling hot now due to human heat, the smell of sex staining on the white tiles of the walls when vi can physically feel the warmth throughout the fabric of the strap-on, staining her cock deliberately now with your sticky orgasm as she keeps moving, relishing that nasty sound that is now louder than any damn music outside-- who is vi to blame when she cums after too? consumed by the need to see you, even if the lights in the bathroom were so damn dim, be a witness to the way the blue dildo leaves your abused cunt so puffy for her it has vi salivating like a damn animal ready to kneel.
she hates you, right? to cum is to admit you're fucking pathetic. to cum is to admit that she has you by the neck, under her everlasting spell.
"wear my medal and i'll wear yours," you say, breathless. "is it a deal, third place?"
"you think anyone will believe i won outside?" vi asks instead as she lazily drags the shirt back to her body: was that the conversation you were having before? flirting and exchanging dumb medals hoping the rest will play along? "i don't want a medal i don't deserve."
her words don't seem to bother you however, when you add instead — "i don't care about what the rest believes, vi. i just want to keep you satisfied so you can fuck me later. it looks better around your neck anyway."
it's oh so simple.
according to her it all starts when you win the competition (or something like that, what-fucking-ever) cause why else would violet vanderson would be shoving her hand inside the back pocket of your jeans later that same night? only as a sign of possession when she squeezes your ass before speaking close to your ear:
"next year m'gonna make you my dog too, with my gold medal."
and you know deep down it’s nothing but the plain truth.
love LOVE your dividers—can I get some aesthetic lacey or smokey black dividers with a mix of some browns and tan? crosses and lighters would be so cool too. much love!!
Smoke and Lace
I'll admit I wasn't sure what smokey black dividers meant so please enjoy some dark smoke dividers.
Please credit @pixopix, likes and reblogs are appreciated!
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.
# pairing. pitfighter!Jinx x fem!reader, canon divergence.
# content warnings. needy dom!Jinx x sub!reader ; toxic yuri ; on & off relationship ; codependency ; mean!Jinx ; bpd potrayal ; devotion & obsession ; possessive!Jinx ; cunnilingus (r! receiving) ; fingering (r! receiving) ; overstimulation ; marking ; angst with a side of smut ; slight dubcon ; mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ
# word count. 3.5k
ᯓ ☘︎ lucky speaks: take a shot every time they say “fucking” :p anyway, i’m quite proud of this one as a pitfighter!Jinx debut <3
the hideout smells wrong.
it's sweet first—heavy perfume bleeding into the air, thick and cloying—and then, underneath it, metal and gunpowder. a sharp, copper tang of blood trying to pretend it's something else. it clings to the back of your throat the second you step inside.
you find Jinx at her workbench like you always do after a fight, hunched over a chipped enamel bowl, water turning pink. her makeup is spread around her in a careful disarray—new pots of kohl cracked open, brushes with stained bristles, half-empty bottles of perfume she doesn't reach for nowadays. you even spot the scissors—the same pair she used to hack off her braids in a moment of fury because they were something her opponents could grab and control.
no more handles.
nothing for you to hold either.
she doesn't look up when she hears your approaching footsteps; she just keeps scrubbing at her face with both hands like she's trying to peel it off, water sluicing down her arms, dripping from her elbows and onto the floor. the black makeup that usually rings her eyes has melted into streaks that slash down her cheeks, dragged lower and wider with every pass of her palms like war paint gone wrong.
press, drag, rinse, press harder.
over and over.
"you fought tonight." your voice comes out flat and cold, each word carefully controlled; you clamp down everything else because if you let any emotion show, it'll split you open.
she hums in reply, casual and thoughtless like you've commented on the weather before dunking her whole face in the bowl. you hear the sound of the water breaking, sloshing as it licks at the rim, her breath forcing bubbles to the surface. when she comes up, her hair is plastered to her temples; she's dripping, water runing down her neck and soaking into the bandages wrapped around her chest, the painted black X over it starting to bleed at the edges. her bare shoulders flex as she rolls them out with a faint crack, earning a relieved grunt. "i won, too," she adds after a moment, like that fixes anything.
"i don't care."
"you should." she finally glances at you over her shoulder, and your breath catches despite yourself; even with exhaustion carved into every line of her face, Jinx is devastatingly beautiful. the shimmer swimming in heir veins, burning through her system, gives her this restless, coiled energy, like she's constantly vibrating just beneath her pale skin ever since Singed put her back together wrong. "put on a good show. crowd loved it." her hands are unwrapped, settling on either side of the bowl now, knuckles split and swelling purple over the delicate bones.
"i told you i'd leave if you fought again," you say quietly. you're not sure whether it's a reminder for her or yourself.
"yeah." she lets out a small laugh, the sound utterly patronizing nevertheless, keeping her head bowed for a second longer before picking up the worn rag beside her and wiping at her face lazily. you watch as the black keeps smearing, refusing to come clean. "you did say that."
"i meant it."
"sure you did."
the casual dismissal hits like a slap, and your hands curl into fists, heat flaring up your spine. you want to grab her, shake her until the arrogance cracks, make her understand. instead you stand there, trembling with barely contained rage. "you said you'd quit."
"i said i'd try."
"i'm serious, Jinx!"
"yeah? that why you're here?" she gestures vaguely at your presence, voice taking on that awful, condescending coo. "at my place in the middle of the night? 'cause you're leaving?"
"i came to tell you—"
"bullshit." she pushes off the workbench, and the bowl wobbles unsteadily. "you came because you always come. because you say you're gonna leave and then you don't. it's what you do." she straightens, chin tilting up. "you wanna leave? leave. door's right there. nothing's stopping you."
"Jinx—"
"no, seriously." she spins once, arms spreading wide with theatrical flourish. the movement makes her bandages shift against her ribs, showing the edges of bruises underneath—purple, yellow, green. "go. save yourself from the big bad pitfighter. run back to your safe little life and forget you ever slummed it with Zaun trash like me." her smile widens, sharp and knowing as the word trash hands between you like something she's daring you to swallow. "but you won't, because you're too sweet for your own good. too caring. too worried what'll happen to poor, broken Jinx if you're not here to save her."
"don't fucking do that to me!" you snap, the control finally cracking as months of fears and frustrations come spilling out of you. "don't do that."
"do what, baby? tell the truth?" the endearment is mocking, dripping with false innocence. "you need this. you need to be needed. and i'm so very, very needy."
"you're such a fucking asshole," you spit out, face twisting in disbelief at her words.
"mmm, yeah." her eyes glitter with mean amusement, bottom lip caught between her teeth to contain her smile. "but you love me anyway. that's the problem, isn't it? you can't help yourself. can't walk away from a lost cause."
"stop acting like this!"
"i'm not acting like anything." she tosses the rag back into the bowl, letting it land in the pink water with a wet slap. "you just say a lot of things, but you're still there."
"not for long."
"when?"
“what?”
"when are you leaving then?" her voice is deliberately flat as she leans back against the workbench once more, arms braced behind her like she's settling for a show. "tonight? tomorrow? just wanna know how long i've got."
"that's it?" you huff, stepping closer, anger finally overriding the ache in your chest. "that's all you have to say? i'm telling you i'm done, and you're just… you don't even care—!"
"sure i care." she pushes off the bench, stepping onto the propeller blade you stand on, claiming space you thought was yours. "but you're gonna walk out that door, go back to your little apartment, and lie awake all night wondering if i'm okay. if i'm bleeding out in some alley. if someone finally hit me hard enough that i didn't get back up." she stops, facing you with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "and then tomorrow night—or maybe the night after, if you're feeling particularly strong—you'll come back. you always come back. because the guilt would eat you alive, wouldn't it? knowing you left me. knowing you could've stayed unlike the rest of them and maybe, just maybe, kept me from destroying myself completely."
every word lands like a punch, because it’s true. because Jinx knows exactly where to press, exactly how to hurt, and she does it anyway. your breath comes faster, vision blurring at the edges.
"fuck you," you breathe out, voice unsteady with rage. "fuck you for using that against me."
"oh, poor baby." she takes another step, tone sliding back into something honeyed and vicious. "so noble. so self-sacrificing. staying with the broken girl because someone has to, right? because if you don't, who—"
"stop it!" your shout echoes in the open space, bouncing off metal and stone, coming back distorted and strange. your whole body is shaking with fury and hurt, tears streaming down your face freely now as you face her cruelty. "you want me to leave? fine. i'll fucking leave right now. and when you're lying in that pit with your skull cracked open and your blood soaking into the dirt, you can die knowing you pushed away the only person who still gave a shit about you." the words tear out of you raw as you turn on your heel and storm toward the exit.
behind you, Jinx's laugh cuts off abruptly. "wait—"
"no!" you don't slow down, boots clanging hard against the old propeller blade, metal ringing under your weight. "i'm done. you win. you're right about everything. i'm just some pathetic case who needs broken people to feel good about herself. congratulations on figuring it out."
"wait, no! i'm sorry. i'm sorry, i'm—fuck, i'm sorry!” the words tumble out of her unfiltered, taking on that frantic edge you've learned to recognize. "please don't go. please. you know i don't mean it. you know i never do."
still, you keep moving, because you've done this before. you know this by heart now—the cruelty, the apology, the way she pushes until something tears and then panics at the sight of blood. something crashes behind you—the bowl, judging by the noise, water slapping across the floor in a violent splash. you hear her swear under her breath, then the quick shuffle of her boots as she nearly slips.
"please!" she begs again, no hint of mockery in her tone now, just the sound of someone ripping themselves open trying to get the word out.
this time, you pause. not because you forgive her—not even close—but because you can't pretend you didn't hear that when the word lodges itself under your ribs. you turn slowly, taking in her wrecked face. the bravado is gone, the smirk is gone; all that's left is the wild look in her bright pink eyes blown wide with panic. her chest is heaving. you can see every breath, rapid and shallow like she can't pull enough air into her lungs. fine tremors move through her whole body as the adrenaline starts draining away, leaving her standing there raw and painfully young.
you stare at her, months of pain in your own expression as you shake your head in disbelief. "this isn't all you are, Jinx."
"yeah?" her mouth twists as she sniffles once, angrily wiping at her face with the heel of her palm. "so what am i?"
you open your mouth, closing it just as fast. because what can you even say anymore? that Jinx is brilliant and creative and funny in the strangest ways? that she sees beauty in things everyone else overlooks? that you love her?
all of it is true, but none of it is enough to keep her out of the pit.
"i can't watch you die," you say finally. "i can't stand there and watch you kill yourself one fight at a time. i can't."
"then don't watch."
"Jinx—"
"i'm serious." her jaw sets in that stubborn line you know too well. "you don't have to watch. i'll keep fighting, you'll keep worrying, we'll keep doing this dance until—"
"until what? until they carry you out of that pit in pieces?"
"maybe!" her hands fly up, manic energy crackling through her again. she starts pacing, steps quick and uneven. "maybe that's how it ends! maybe i don't get a happy ending. i'm fine with that, why can't you—"
"Jinx, stop!" you reach for her, forcing her to stop moving. she stumbles, freezing under your hand, skin hot and pulse racing where your thumb presses into her wrist. "just stop. please."
she looks at you, and for a moment—one fleeting moment—you see past the bravado and the mania to the Powder underneath, scared and small and bracing for impact. "i don't want to lose you, too," she whispers. "i know i need you."
"you need help."
"i need you." the insistence is immediate and desperate enough to make your stomach twist.
"that's not fair," you whisper, shaking your head. "you can't put that on me."
"i know, baby. i know it's not fair. you really should go," she admits easily. "you should, but if you try, i swear i'll still crawl after you."
Jinx then staggers forward, swaying slightly before ultimately dropping to her knees on the dirty floor and crawling the short distance between you, forehead pressing against your stomach like a starving dog finally let in from the cold to a warm meal.
"i'll win for you. i'll be smarter. i'll build you a fucking house out of scrap and sleep on the floor if that's what it takes." she's panting, breath hot and erratic, shaky hands already fumbling under your top and clutching at your waist.
"i'll do anything." she looks up, pupils blown wide. her eyes shine wet under the dim light, and it's impossible to tell whether she's genuinely on the verge of tears or just desperate enough to weaponize them. maybe there's no difference anymore. "anything you say," she whispers. "you want me begging, baby? i'll beg. i'll cry. just don't go. i need you. i need you."
your hands hover uselessly above her head. you don't know what this is—manipulation, panic, love, fear. Jinx has always used every weapon in her arsenal when she's cornered: cruelty, guilt, charm, violence. but this—this trembling, frantic thing at your feet—feels too raw to entirely fake.
"you said you'd quit," you whisper again, voice trembling, but your fingers are already sinking into the short blue strands at the back of her head. the chopped-off remnants of what used to reach her ankles curl around your knuckles easily now. "last month, you promised me—"
"i know."
"and the month before that—"
"i know."
"so why should i believe you this time?"
for a second, she just kneels there, breathing against your stomach. "you shouldn't," she says, and the honesty hurts more than any other promise would have. "i've lied before. i'll probably lie again. but right now? the truth is i don't wanna lose you."
it's pathetic how quickly you give in, how fast it escalates as the anger drains out of your body. one second you're standing there, trying to leave her; the next, she drags you down onto the mattress in one graceless motion, pulling your shirt over your head and licking her lips when soft tits spill out, nipples already pebbled from the permanent cold in her hideout.
"missed this," she mutters, burying her face in your chest with a needy whine as if she's trying to crawl inside your skin and make a home out of your ribs.
she shouldn't be touching you like this; not when her jaw clicks every time she swallows from where that other fighter clipped her clean in round two, but she's too far gone to care. "missed you. you're so fucking warm, baby." her hands roam without direction—waist, back, waist again—like she's checking whether you're real. she finally tilts her head up, looking at you through smeared lashes. "can i taste you?" she asks softly. "please?"
you nod, because how can you not? the second Jinx gets like this—wild and greedy and strung out on need—it flips something inside you. it makes you forget every mean word, every cruel statement thrown at you. you're on your back in no time, pants yanked off with your legs draped over her freckled shoulders, pussy soaked and fluttering around nothing as she mouths at you like she's dying of thirst. she keeps an arm wrapped around your thigh, holding you down while the other slips under your ass, tilting you up into her mouth. Jinx eats like a girl who hasn't touched softness in weeks, hips canting uselessly into the mattress like she gets off on your taste alone. like forgiveness is something she finds deep inside your cunt and your cunt only.
she moans shamelessly at every twitch of your thighs, tongue flattening against your puffy folds before she drags it slow in up and down licks. "please," she begs between desperate strokes, fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises matching hers. "please, don't leave me. i'll be so good for you. i'll fight better. i'll win cleaner. i'll quit, i swear—just don't fucking leave me."
you're gasping, fingers tangling in her damp strands and holding on tightly as your hips start to rock into her mouth with every ragged breath, legs closing around her ears, helpless to the pace. "god… fuck, Jinx—"
"that's it. let me have it," she whimpers, nearly coming untouched right there and then at the sound of your moan, the kitteny mewls echoing in her hideout only making her hungrier. "let me fucking keep you. you want me on a leash, baby? you want me on my knees every night? just say it. just don't go."
she sobs into your cunt, trembling as she adds her fingers, slipping two in too easily and curling them until you keen, choking on pleasure, clutching at her like she'll disappear if you let go.
"oh, fuck! yes—yes, right there—!"
she pants when she finally comes up for air, lips shiny, chin soaked in a mixture of slick and spit, fingers still working you open in a relentless rhythm. "see? i'll fix everything. i'll make you proud of me again. i'll be your best girl." her other hand strokes your thigh like she's petting something precious, licking sloppier now as she humps harder, her own panties sticking uncomfortably to her neglected cunt. "you make me feel—mmph—clean. i might be the… the dirtiest fucking thing in this city, but you still let me eat like i'm worthy."
you can't even answer anymore—just a string of broken gasps between senseless babbling as she shoves her fingers deeper, grinding them into your sweetest spot while her mouth seals around your throbbing clit again.
"stay still," she rasps, only holding you down harder when you squeal and try to jerk away from the overwhelming sensation. her own whines are rising as she pants between licks, kissing you through every twitch and tremor like she's scared this will end. like she's fucking for her life. "you missed me too, didn't ya?"
"mmnh—y-yeah, missed… missed you—"
Jinx moans like it's a reward, pink eyes shining with adoration as they lock onto your flushed face. she sees you drool just a little, nodding like a ragdoll, eyes rolling back with every pass of her tongue against your sensitive bud.
"so come for me," she pleads, borderline delirious with it, eyes glistening. "come for me, and i swear i'll never bleed for anyone else again."
and you do, body seizing up as you orgasm hard in tear-slicked bliss, hips still bucking into her while you cream around her fingers, cunt fluttering in delight. she just groans and licks you through it like it's the best of aphrodisiacs, sweat running down her own back. even when you tremble and whine and try to shift away, she follows, not letting up just yet.
"i'm not done," she breathes, still coaxing you through it like she's trying to drag something holier out of you. "i have more to prove. let me prove it. let me be good for you."
"Jinx—s'too much, slow down!" your hands push weakly at her shoulders, more reflex than real resistance, your whole body trembling under her.
"then stay," she gasps immediately. "stay and i'll stop. i'll slow down."
"i will! i will, just… just gentler, please—!"
"you want me soft? you want me sweet?" she whispers, kissing your shaking thigh on the way up your body, crawling over you fully and pressing herself flush against you like she's trying to fuse you together. "i'll be that," she murmurs lovingly, tongue dragging over the sweat at your pulse. “just say you want me. say you still want me.”
“i do! i promise i do, just—mmph—”
she sucks a hickey into the hollow of your throat while she pumps her fingers deeper, thumb mean against your clit, and your gasps melt into sobs. you try to roll your hips away from the intensity, only to have Jinx whine and chase you again, pinning you fully beneath her weight. you moan loud, wrung out and overstimulated, but your legs spread open wider nonetheless, pleasure overriding everything else.
"oh my god," she gasps in awe, "you love it. you love me like this. all fucked and stupid over you."
the words should make you angry. instead, they go straight through you. she kisses you hard before you can answer, moaning softly into your mouth when you arch against her on instinct. you taste yourself on her tongue, all salt and musk. it's filthy, intimate in the ugliest way possible. it should feel wrong. it does feel wrong.
but that's just part of it, isn’t it?
"come again," she pants, eyes pleading as her forehead knocks against yours. "one more time, baby, just give it to me. let me make you come and then you can run…" a shaky laugh escapes her then, eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment. "if you still have the energy to."
and there it is again—that awful thing living between you. the push and pull of it. cruelty wrapped around devotion so tightly neither of you can tell where one ends and the other begins anymore. every sharp edge softened by desparation. every act of tenderness permanently poisoned.
the truly unforgivable part is that, somewhere along the way, this stopped feeling like something either of you knows how to survive without.
she’s old, rusty and stupidly horny — you bet that cute ass violet vanderson’s fucking her sister’s best friend tonight.
cw # 18+ minors and cismen dni as this contains smut, older!vi + chef!vi so be aware that this contains an age-gap relationship (reader's in her late twenties and vi is in her forties, reader’s also jinxs bestie) doctor!reader, blood and injury descriptions, vi is tripping here i love my girl, switch!switch dynamic cuz i'm a sucker for who's in control and who's not (expect sub!vi and not), scissoring, good old pussy eating, shit ton of flirting, spit, some choking, sweet names, degrading ones — yikes.
listen to some tunes for this one // masterlists // 10,3k words.
side note # in screams of agony, i bring you serpentskirt, a love hate fic i’ve been writing since january 18th acording to ellipsus. i’m not gonna lie but this was a pain in the ass so it makes me happy to finally let it see the light — trust me, i needed to move on, i’m kinda proud of how it turned out despite almost going pussy-bald on how stressing this was. still. hope you enjoy what i personally believe its the perfect blend of yearning and smut,,,, i expect your opinion on this one since its very important babymwah,,,,, #art bellow by entr0phea on instagram!!
vi has experienced appetite before.
eyes who swallow and mouth who irks in hunger, she knows what it's like when you experience desire firsthand, how it settles in her lower stomach like a monster ready to devastate. blends like an injection with her blood, turns her primitive in the closed space of the last drop, stupid.
"you remember who she is, right?"
is it a trick question? does her sister know half of what happened a handful of years before? fresh out of school while she was already finishing uni, ready to escape and move out: violet doubts you told jinx about the big crush you had back then with her so randomly, much less about the fact that she rejected you that very same night since she was already busy fucking a classmate, far from looking at her little sister's best friend with something more than a friendly approach — with this in mind, please care to explain when, exactly did you get this fucking hot?
slowly, she regrets being ten minutes late to a party she almost avoided at first, after so long investing this much time in staying away? karma breathes down her neck and it surely catches vi in a low moment of her life, or at least, guilty enough to curse silently while her sister keeps talking unaware of how stiff she is. shit, how long has it been since she last saw you? six, seven years now? time's an illusion created by men when minutes don't pass like as would: you're careless now, unaware that she still exists, cool.
"my best friend from school, you know her-- braces, weird haircut..." let cupid shoot his arrow twice cause you're far from the girl who once was drunk confessing a teenage crush in the middle of a starry night like a secret from the government — "c'mon be smart."
"i am smart--" vi replies offended, is this some kind of punishment for being late to her birthday party? for avoiding her hometown like it's haunted? "i know who that is. the troublemaker friend you had who followed you everywhere."
"well congratulate her and don't be a fucking asshole. she bagged this big job in the hospital of piltover to be part of the e.r team. it's a big night for her too."
the memory of when you were too drunk blurting out your hopes and desires settles in her brain and it's impossible to let go. pulls the corners of her mouth in an unexpected smile cause she can still go back to the words you mumbled between pouts and cheeky smiles, how she was already tired of zaun and how hot that summer was — you went too hard with the vodka, and she is, still too old for you.
"vi?" it's a knot in the throat when you become aware of her presence, say her name like you're missing one star all along, a new planet announced to the rest of the world. suddenly she turns into an old friend you hold close to your heart instead of that never-before-experienced-lover or your forever wonder. "oh god, how are you? jinx told me you were coming but i thought she was daydreaming-"
it's fast and it turns the air toxic as your arms surround her in an unexpected hug: god she's in such deep trouble. impossible not to freeze as her own arms welcome you back; she has the perfect excuse right? since you've been around each other at a young age you're an indirect part of her life, no? — she hasn't known anything about you in years so it's almost fair.
was it the mini-skirt? the way your hair smells as you're that close? she's a sucker for that kind of things — maybe it was the deprivation of good sex for what felt like a lifetime, or the sound of your voice when you talk so close to her. everything's a menace as your laugh seems to fill the entire place; her space at least, so inexistent at that point it makes vi afraid of having her sister wondering what the hell is going on.
"congrats on your new job, doc" it's nothing but politeness sprinkled with bits of flirting, subtle. "turns out you were a smart-ass after all, huh?"
"seems like it, yes-" is that cockiness in your voice? confidence? "thank you. been working hard for it."
"can tell you did" crooked smile, head slightly tilted to the right, she's been on this game for almost forty years: "you've always been annoying when you want something."
"i'd say determined, but yeah" you're now a very intelligent brat who seemed to have every answer to her playful banter. "you're staying long?"
"not much, your friend here's keeping tabs on me so i doubt that i can't leave before" maybe she should be more grateful of the volatile attention span of jinx already invested in another conversation to know what she's even talking about. "got a lot of work to do and i can't stay that long, the restaurant doesn't work well without me."
"well that's nice. j missed you quite a lot," maybe it's the smile that throws her off as you're called by your friends, when other people claim your attention and she wishes to have it all to herself. "see you around?"
"you call the shots, doc. talk to you later."
problems. she has a lot of problems nowadays to add another one to the list.
a sure inconvenience, but it doesn't stop life from making it considerably hard to pay attention to anything else after that hug, after having you so close, talk. it's only fair when she spends a good amount of time gripping her plastic cup too hard, surrounding herself with people who ask her about the job and how she is only to give back half asserted answers cause she lose the track of what she's saying, too damn tired to pretend she gives two fucks about anything else more than the cute friend of her young sister.
are you aware of how interested someone can be in you? how actively she's following your movements around and waiting for the moment to have the tender pleasure of your attention? just a simple conversation. makes her feel guilty when she realizes who she's lusting over, the inevitable years that separate the both of you: she's entering her forties and you're what? 28, 29? too young.
so vi stays on her side of the line. survival mode. avoid any further interaction cause she's too good to flirt with her sister's best friend, too polite to admit you're attractive. instead she turns the other cheek and forces herself to keep a normal conversation — remember that it's her sister's birthday and not a lesbian speed date event.
and plans would keep going amazing if she wasn't already tired of people, if the hours weren't so long and vi wasn't already moody from before. she kisses her sister's cheek before promising to come back tomorrow when the clock hits three in the morning, and she waves her friends goodbye before fixing her scarf ready to face the cold snow that gathered outside the bar: avoid you. she's fast when zipping up her jacket and pretends she's rushing for an emergency more than saving her own ass, not searching for you when the place's full.
thing is? it would be easier to escape from you if you — the prime headache, weren't outside the bar silently smoking a cigarette, if you didn't whistle loud enough to make her look at you. so much easier if the street wasn't empty and you weren't smiling all optimistic as you walk careful not to fall in the frozen streets.
"you leaving this early?" you ask, holding onto your coat to warm yourself from the cold "is the party too boring for the elderly?"
"twas a long trip" vi replies politely, now under the cold light of the moon and the reflection of the light in the snow she's capable of seeing you better, be a witness of the new details on your face: every mark on your skin, every line.
"so you're leaving without even saying goodbye instead."
"i'm not-" is there any excuse? like a teenager that's caught doing something wrong, vi's mouth rushes into a line at the lack of words — "are you supposed to even be smoking that, doctor?"
"this? nah, it should be the last of your worries." why is there something hot about it? about the way you lean against the wall of the last drop, the dim yellow light of the street lamp projected in your face, "trust me. this holds my last bit of sanity together-- do you really have to leave so soon? none of my friends wanted to join me here since it's too cold outside, c'mon. just five minutes. i'll let you leave when i'm done with my cigarette."
"well, it's freezing here your friends have a point" there's no doubt when she never thought twice to accept your words, almost embracing the failure of her plans as she sighs in fake annoyance, turns out she's quite bad when it comes to acting. "go on doc, smoke. i'll join you in your rush of sanity."
that's how she signs her ultimate contract with the devil in the end, when she stays still right next to you, silent, distant, deep in her thoughts: it may be the first time she's talking to you decently, so if the tension's palpable? you are good at ignoring while filling the air with a distinct smell that made her scrunch her nose in disgust.
"so," vi pauses for a second, too bad at small talk. "doctor, huh? always thought you were going to be something annoying like a lawyer."
you hum, and it's the most delicious sound vi can ever hear from over the distant noise contained in closed doors, savors it in her tongue as you speak again — "yeah, found out i really like to help people. be there. i wanted something to feel i dunno, tangible i guess-"
"so you turned into mother teresa, then?"
"shut up" you laugh, she does it too when pretending to be hurt from the push you playfully give her, even when in reality she can barely feel it under so much clothing, "and i also wanted to prove people wrong. i don't think anybody had the faith in me to do something like that."
"all of them can go straight to hell," fuck's sake, is she a five-year-old that can't keep her thoughts private? "people are used to do that, think you're less than what you really are."
"yeah they can go straight to hell, you're so right." man, why are you looking at her like that? pleading eyes, big smile, like some simple words found the path close to your heart and you just remembered why she was your crush back then when you were young. "i'm really happy you're here, vi. jinx missed you a lot and its nice to see her this happy in her special day."
so vi tries to find a rational explanation to why her heart skips a beat the way it does, resting her back close to where you are to the point the mix of the smoke and your perfume installs now in every corner of her mind making it severely difficult to not get invested like she's currently getting that night and wonder, deep down, if that crush you once got is still there gripping to the last bits of sanity that remains: impossible.
"thanks for being there for her," — "i don't want pow to be alone while i'm not here."
"well she has me, and ekko" you add, "she's been my best friend since i can remember, family. i fear she's stuck with me too."
"stuck with you, huh?" her brows furrow slightly at the thought. "poor pow. you two being annoying is something you can never get used to."
"teenage years were crazy" you chuckle. "a fever dream and my peak of embarrassment."
"why so?"
"please, as if you don't remember," how could she not? you're good at roll your eyes and play with the cigarette between your fingers as if it keeps you grounded, still and not nervous at all.
"do i, now? a lot happened while we grew up-"
"so you don't remember when i told you about my massive crush on you?" you question curiously, interrupting midway. "i literally spill my guts to you mid party. awful night, but i would be offended still if you forgot."
you're so casual while saying it, unaware that vi's soul drops in the very same second, almost losing balance as she can feel the heat coming from her insides staining her cheeks, burning her bones with fever as she crosses her arms right bellow her chest, suffering: how can a cigarette last so fucking long?
"i was trying to be polite," she tries to defend herself from your bad look — "you were so drunk it's really a miracle you can remember half of what you said back then."
"yeah, i know. it doesn't count either way" holding the smoke in, you kick the snow that gathers at your feet aware of the weight of her gaze. "sorry if i weirded you out-- i was young and full of hormones back then. adolescence is pretty rough."
you're aiming to play dumb, and she's willing to play along in anything you decide at this point, indulge you a bit, keep feeding that spoiled attitude bubbling like champagne; and the universe itself knows that vi would love to keep flirting there, truly. yet she suffers from the epitome of bad luck when she's trying to avoid the most random accident, unable to answer — so fast it does not give her enough time to blink.
how did you trip? was it the snow? did she get in the way? it doesn't matter when she's trying to save your butt from touching the freezing cement, strong arms that hold you and help you defy gravity before you hit the ground but does not stop your savior from losing balance herself: the pavement's froze due to the weather, and it's hard to stay on her feet as she lands on the snow, somehow avoiding a bigger injury.
"oh god," she can hear you as you get up by her side, kneeling in front of her. "are you okay? did you hit your head?"
maybe it's the doctor part that kicks in, makes vi wonder for a moment. your hands are gentle when you slowly touch her face, gaze searching for her blue eyes in any sign of confusion or pain. it's dangerous, how much she enjoys it even when your hands are super cold, worried about her while you ask a bunch of questions she ignores since it's difficult to pay attention to a single word you say more than the worried look in your face this close.
"don't move, take it easy," you pick the perfect path to your future it seems, cause you're not even half as affected vi is that moment, professional even when her heart's beating loudly in her ears, palms sweating against the snow, stupidly nervous. "talk to me, yeah? tell me how you feel, vi."
"is this how you treat your patients in e.r, doc?" — "you truly a lifesaver."
"how many fingers do you see?" ignoring her tries of flirtation, you're definitely good at doing your job, make sure she's alright, and vi? man, she's loving every second of it, having your eyes scanning every inch of her face while your fingers touch the back of her head, your eyes on her own: there is no need to even ask cause the answer would lack coherence.
it's a fact that the closeness got her speechless for a moment, cause she cannot think about an existent number when you're like that, when your brows furrow in concern and she can notice a wrinkle or two now that she's too close, now that she can smell your nice and sweet perfume again and you're looking at her like she's the only girl on earth.
"hi there, you here with me?"
"uh, three--"
"what?"
fuck. she needs to look again before correcting herself — "fingers. i see two fingers. sorry."
"can i touch you?"
"uh, what?"
"your head, vi" your smile is beautiful even from where she is, still freezing her ass. "i need to see if there's any wound or irregularity in your head."
"oh-- yes, i'm sorry" god, she needs to get a fucking grip.
your hands are already in her head wandering around her pink hair, gently they touch unaware of how devastating it is for a person who has endured solitude as a way of living, how she crumbles and wishes to have further beyond.
"are you in pain?"
"well, not really."
the world turns silent for a moment, her mind finally stays shut and the moment seems eternal in the pages of her head. fuck. fuck-fuck-fu--
"i think you're okay," can you realize how she's flirting with you and not caring about anything else? how she's looking at you now that you're busy touching her? "it was just a scare."
"you think i'll live?" you laugh at whatever she's saying and it has no right to be that delicious; not even pretending to be normal when you stare at her eyes checking on the size of her pupils: were you always this composed? this professional. "tell me the truth doc, i can handle bad news."
"you'll live, unfortunately" funny. it's the alcohol who makes the pink-haired stick her tongue out in response. — "don't hit your head again, though. try and keep your old ass out of the emergency room, can you?"
"dunno ma'am, i suffer from bad luck in this city."
"then i'm afraid i'll be seeing you around more than i want to, huh?" are you flirting with her too? she's having trouble to tell as you offer her a hand to stand up from the floor. blame it on her head. "thanks for staying with me while i smoke."
gentle, your voice's like a kiss on the cheek, a reward. it may be awkward for a second and vi's unexpectedly happy when she can notice you're nervous, nervous as you go from one side to another, as you play with the ring in your index finger, as you avoid looking at her as if you were back to being seventeen and she's still that cool uni girl too busy to pay attention.
"it wasn't so bad," even if her ass hurts and she will get a bruise or too. "thankfully i got you to take care of me, doc."
now this fucks with your head entirely, when she kisses your cheek goodbye this time and shoves her hands inside her jacket, watching you leave like it was the worst vi experienced in her life.
"are you going to stay in the door or going in?" the girl teases you when you stop mid-way the entrance — "can't keep the door crowded, an emergency can happen. you know that stuff."
"going in," unsure, you have to turn back to look at her one more time. "i'll see you around, right?"
it's just a simple question. not that deep. not that important-- yet the way you say it? makes her gulp the saliva contained in her mouth cause it's the tone you use, how your fingers grip the wood of the door nervous of the outcome, nothing but you gathering enough courage to admit you want to see her again somehow. subtle. almost a delusion of her own mind.
"you bet, peach." she likes your smile almost too much, how some words can lighten up the entire night. "take care of yourself for me and don't go falling around in this bad weather, yeah?"
lesbian things are happening lately.
vi can tell.
now.
it's actually funny when vi's in the emergency room two days after.
the place is full, the heat is on and she can swear she's paying some kind of punishment due to the miserable crying of a random kid for the last 40 minutes while she's there installed in the uncomfortable black chair of the waiting room with her sister, holding onto her arm with a new white cloth she was given by one of the nurses like her life depends on it.
it was all an awful joke.
i mean-- she was helping jinx with some house stuff vi could totally explain. sane. it didn't hurt that bad but still she wanted to get checked out either way cause — well, she would love to see you again, and it's clear that she does not know how to put it in words like a normal person would, ask for your phone or admit she's interested, so instead? she's at the hospital.
bleeding.
cause she's a noble knight. the most helpful sister.
and she kinda needs stitches.
so she remains optimistic the first hour: it's a big emergency room and the place is chaotic, but she chooses to believe that she can find you amidst the chaos, that somehow you'll end up being her doctor; by the second hour though? she knows it's like trying to find a needle in a haystack, that you may be busy, that it may be your day off, anything to make her remember why she hates coming back to the city so much.
hours seem eternal before she's finally called, still holding onto the bloody cloth now seated in a stretcher that's much more comfortable than the chair from before.
"pow, you're making me nervous like that-- i'm fine," she's thankful for the silence before her sister insisted on walking from one side to another — "they're not going to come any faster if you burn a hole in the ground."
"i know, but i'm both worried and bored," jinx later adds, a dangerous combo. "m'gonna go find my girl. maybe i can speed things up."
"wait no--" it's too late when jinx's already leaving to admit it's a bad idea, invisibly cuffed to the hospital bed as the silence finally fills the room and vi can enjoy a moment of silence without side quests: turns out enduring the waiting room was the first part of the task, now she needed to wait for the doctor to appear.
ten, fifteen minutes, she knows her sister has the attention span of a sardine so there are strong chances of vi being left behind for an iced coffee and something nice to eat, yet minutes don't matter when someone is waiting outside the door — someone whose voice can be recognize from before.
"good evening miss--" holding on to some papers in your left hand, she can't help but check you out as the black ambo uniform seems more than comfortable for 12-hour shifts, pretty even."vi? what are you doing here? what happened?"
"hi- uh, i was helping out pow," stupid. her brain turns stupid with you near and it's much worse to admit how she made a huge mistake to you than to anyone else — "she wanted the chimney to work so i was you know, chopping some wood."
now. you're worried, she can tell when your brows furrow and your eyes scan the blood on the cloth she was using, you're quick to disinfect your hands again with alcohol gel and enter the action under your big glasses, get on her side.
"let me see," you ask before inspecting the wound. "well you gonna need stitches, but i need to know if anything's infected here, was it with the old axe?"
"yes,"she can handle pain, always been good at the uncomfortable — yet nothing prepares violet for watching you in your zone, when you scan every inch of her teared skin under gloved hands and a serious expression while she's there feeling dumb as fuck.
"who's idea was this?" you ask, going back to the computer on the left, already writing orders for the medicine you need and creating a new tab for vi's medical records to include the incident that just happened. "cannot think of a worse idea than chopping wood with a rotten axe."
"me," it makes her blush when admitting it, and while you talk with the nurse, vi's actually happy you're distracted enough to not realize how she's already hiding under a pile of shame. "i was doing okay until powder distracted me."
"so all of this was your sister, huh?" it's all an effort to distract her from the pain, but standing there in front of her with your hands in your waist like you own the entire piltover hospital? she'd let you do anything you want without saying a single word while you wait for the nurse to come back. wait for hours. "i'll numb the zone with lidocaine, yeah? it will take a couple of minutes, i'll check if it's infected and after that? you're good to go home with some stitches."
"what if it's infected?" the pink haired ask curiously while looking at the dried blood on her forearm.
"it's not a big deal," you reply calmly. "the wound's not deep, so you would need some strong antibiotics instead of surgery. nothing alarming."
"i trust in your judgment, doc" she's too optimistic to even think about surgery, cause there's no other doctor in the place vi would trust her life with. "i'm happy you are here-- i mean. for good luck purposes."
"good luck purposes," you repeat her words with a laugh. "i like that."
and the universe must know vi would like to keep talking, flirt until it's evident and she cannot longer hide the adrenaline of being interested in somebody, even if it's the hot friend of her younger sister who mind the world — it's definitely too young for the population to approve; yet it's impossible when the nurse's interrupting any try to keep on talking and the pain of the needle takes her for surprise the moment she's applied lidocaine to numb the entire zone.
flirting at what fucking cost?
"thank you nellie" you say, and vi may be biased but you're made for it, to offer that calm smile that says everything's okay, keep being professional while she's in cloud nine trying to keep her shit together, not be insanely ridiculous. "good news. your arm's not infected so you won't need antibiotics, only stitches."
"at least something nice."
"so. you ready for me, miss vanderson?"
"please be kind--"
so she's blushing again to the point that big ass needle you hold is nothing against her own sabotage, inevitable when she's staring at you. you are fixated in her arm, in doing a good job — so she's allowed to look, right? not be very subtle about it, she's stuck in that problem cause while you work vi's invested, invested in your lips there under the white lights, in that fucking uniform, in every detail, mark, scar as if roles were reversed now and she's the one pinning after someone that's out of reach.
"does it hurt?"
"don't feel a thing, love."
who cares about pain when the shape of your smile may or may not be imprinted in vi's memories? afraid she would miss something if she dares to blink, clear now about her intentions even when she doesn't have to admit it out loud: yes she's interested in you, yes, she wants you like this, so close she can smell the notes on your perfume, so close vi can tell you're nervous. there's no point in dismissing what's clear, in denying she's seated in a hospital bed, wishing-- begging, you'll look up and notice she's centimeters away from giving up the nice behavior she insists on pulling up.
you do your work in silence and vi's inevitably absorbed by it, not even wincing when the needle pierces her skin over and over again and she's attacked by a weird feeling running down her spine when the thread stitches the parted skin together. your chest follows a path in controlled breathings, and vi's eyes can't help but follow the inviting path of your neck, that necklace that hangs over your uniform and makes her waste time wondering how the charm would settle in your chest, half romantic half perv.
"you don't have to risk your health to have some time with me, you know that, right?"
there's no time to panic, and it makes her shiver even under your gloved hands, a smile that pulls the corner of her pink lips upwards in an unexpected smile. midway through the stitches, you face now turns her way to demand an answer, yet the only thing vi can think about is the lame reply of:
"so you think this is for you?"
"is it not?"
the game's immediate. the sudden tension, the way the air turns hotter the moment you respond and it's fun, it's interesting, stimulating in ways vi thought they were lost for the next eternity. you're a little monster and she can almost feed on it.
"if you're so intelligent peach, then please enlighten me: what do i have to do so i can have you more to myself?"
"you can do something else more than just look at me for starters," you reply before going back to the stitches you were working on, making her chuckle at your response — you're far from the shy kid who blurted out some teenage crush, medicine makes you grow guts. "i mean, you've been doing it since jinx's birthday. like you'd eat me for breakfast but can't seem to do anything about it. bit boring."
"interesting. so you want me to make a move on you?" a dumb smile takes over vi's mouth, impossible to keep it shut. "you do realize i'm way too old for you, right?"
"how old are you? forty? forty-five?" you question. "that's not old."
so she'd love to respond, say something in return since you decided to be such a smart-ass, but her sister's coming back with a cup of coffee before vi could think of a decent reply and you're greeting her without looking cause you're too fixated on stitching her skin like an embroidery set.
get in the fucking line.
"i was looking for you," the blue-haired says sipping on her drink. "i wasn't going to accept any other doctor so i was outside fighting for my sister's rights."
"we're a bit full today--" you explain as you finish the last stitch, turning to look at your friend as if you weren't shamefully flirting with her older sister mere seconds ago. "but there you go. stitched. i will cover it down but when you get home? let it breathe for a while, yeah? it's an open wound. clean it, protect it, change pads every 4-5 hours."
"sure thing doc."
god, that damn nickname.
the process after is annoying, boring and a waste of time when vi wants to keep talking to you, go further and beyond with her sacred flirting tries, make you zoom out just like she does when you fuck her brain up: make you useless as a way of revenge.
an hour later powder holds a good amount of papers as she walks close to her sister. hands in her pocket, vi's surely disappointed about the fact that you disappeared the rest of her visit, not seeing you again after you explained the painkillers she needs to take and clearly — ruining her plans of finally asking you out.
it wasn't so bad right? you're old enough to reject her if you feel like it, she's old enough to be salivating over her sister's best friend.
"turns out she was really busy," her sister rants as they reach the exit. "good thing is her free day tomorrow, i can't imagine the kind of stress she goes through working here every day."
dates. dates. dates.
"vi!" she think she's going delusional after hearing your voice until powder calls your name surprised, an un-gloved hand that reaches her arm to pull her aside: did you run after her? man, bless this patient-doctor confidentiality cause it makes immediate sense in her brain somehow when jinx stays behind, "you forgot this."
she didn't. the medicine you hold does not belong to her but vi takes it without even thinking twice. shove it in the back of her jeans pretending it was something quite important to have a doctor going to the waiting room on her own free will.
"how kind," she replies instead with a warm smile despite the new pain in her arm as the lidocaine dissipates. "what would i do without you?"
takes you off for a minute, as if you're going to have a headache due to how hard you keep thinking about it — "i dunno. would you have a date with me?"
"yes, gladly." pathetic, she can't even pretend to be cool these days.
"friday night?"
"sounds good to me."
"my place?"
"got yourself a deal, doc."
"amazing," you say with a victorious smile."bye j, see you around."
it's fast and you go directly to the point (is it possible to like you even more?) — even when you turn around to go back to the restricted area and she stays there planted in the same spot afraid of growing roots until she dares to remember where she is and how to act normal again, breathe, walk, act as if she's not affected by your ideas, your direct questions, you.
"what did she say?" her sister asks curiously as they leave together, almost running to catch up with vi's fast steps as they reach the car.
"nothing. something about the antibiotics."
"ah sucks, you have to take medicine--"
"at least i got all my fingers, s'not that bad…"
"well that's a way of seeing it sure."
violet vanderson's a filthy. fucking. liar.
she's a rare optimist when her fist finally knocks the door.
standing outside feels like an eternity before you finally open, nervous like a teenager facing her first date ever before registering the chaotic scene developing — apron tied to the waist, she's sure there is food in your hair and dried something on your shoulder.
"is this a bad timing?" vi asks curiously as she takes a look inside your apartment, small, cozy while a warm light falls to stain your white walls just like she imagined.
guilty smile, you shake your head in denial as you wipe your hands in the fabric of the apron.
"no, please" almost ashamed you fully open the door to give her an entire glimpse of your personal life, silently inviting her in. "thought it was a good idea to impress you with risotto. it's not working currently."
it delights her, head that tilts backwards when the smile transforms into a laugh she cannot contain now noticing the dried rice in your clothing, the messy bun and the face of guilt. she takes off her jacket since the cold's cruel on the way to your place only to leave it on a chair nearby:
"you want me to take care of it?" she's a chef, right? with a known restaurant back where she lives — she definitely should have no problem with it. "the rice, peach. i can help you with the food."
"no please, don't want to make you feel like i'm taking advantage of you," you quickly reply worried. "we can go out, i know a good place nearby."
"nonsense," vi says instead as she gently takes your hand, pulling it slightly forward as she searches for the kitchen where the smell is coming out. "you're not taking advantage of me. i want to teach you how to do it."
at this point? god, she wishes you would take advantage, do anything that implies your good. letting go of your hand, she hovers over the rice casserole with a furrowed brow — half smile of contentment when it takes the famous chef no longer than a minute to actually notice what is wrong with your dinner tries, turning to look at you with a pleased expression.
"c'mere, i see where you are wrong," the pink haired mumbles, and she could very well explain it out loud from where you are standing currently, yet she refuses to keep that nonsense of not being interested any longer as her hand finally finds your waist and she uses little-to-inexistent force to pull you closer, so close you can feel her breathing subtle and barely there against the back of your neck. "that's not the correct rice for what you have in mind love, nor the right temperature."
her words are similar to a kiss, tender and bruising to the soul. no one's looking when her body drags itself closer to you so there is no space left and pretend she's fixing the rice you did before even when she knows, damn well, that it has no way to be fixed truly.
the skin of your waist feels hot under vi's fingers and it makes the chef volatile, lost in the seconds she's able to get by luck.
"is there a way to fix it?" you ask before she gives you a bit of space, "or do we have to start all over again?"
"oh you messed it up badly, i'm afraid." dramatic, not entirely true, she just wants to see your face. "but don't worry sweetheart. i can handle it."
so she tries not to look your way when you sit next to her, up in the counter to have a full view of what she's doing and vi has a hard time not wanting to think about it — it's hot as fuck.
not many times in your life you can have an award-winning chef in your kitchen trying to fix your mess, walking around like she owns your place more than you ever did. she puts on the purple apron you used before, and your eyes wander on their own inevitably as you help her tie it on her back: all is fucking trouble.
it would be better if you weren't a pervert all along. if you weren't salivating as her muscles flex each time she moves your wooden spoon resting in the pan. you are that kid again with a massive crush as you swallow the saliva contained in your mouth, risotto. what a good thing it is to fail at making risotto.
"i will steal those mushrooms," she's concentrated and there is something hot about it as you're there, installed next to the greatest chef you know. maybe its the kitchen fire that keeps making you feel warm, or the pink-haired who keeps adding stuff to the casserole to save your ass.
"smells good," you praise, hoovering over to smell the vapor coming out. "you really are a top-star chef, huh?"
"wanna try?" she asks, not even looking at you before adding, — "open up."
kinky, it is a wild ride still. turbulent as your lips part on their own and your eyes close to make this fucking sound it makes the chef hold on her breathing for a second as you savor the taste of a simple mushroom risotto. what's crazy here? the way vi cannot get a grip of attention in anything else other than your lips opening for the spoon, how your face distorts and what's supposed to be close to a moan.
"any thoughts on it? feedback?"
"you do risotto's back in your restaurant? holy shit, vi" you look up to her face and it does things to her, so much her thumb works on its own when it goes up to the corner of your mouth to wipe the excess of food there, makes you hold your breath as she takes the rest of the food back to her mouth to eat the crumbles.
"i do, but a fancier version."
"it tastes amazing," you say, licking your lips. "no feedback, i want a full plate please."
it feeds her ego, clearly. she's so normal with it, throwing species, smelling how its going — "its impossible there's nothing you want to change, no dish is perfect love."
"you're just pushing me to say something."
"c'mon. be brutally honest."
"then be careful with the salt," your comment makes her laugh before she's tries the risotto on her own, looking at you with a furrowed brow as you show your hands as a sign of innocence — "you told me to be brutally honest."
"yeah, but you're talking out of your ass" vi says not looking at you as she tries the risotto again. "'cause well, i haven't add any salt, that's what you poured before."
that's where it messes with her head. the intimacy of it. the way you laugh at her stupid jokes and her double intended comments, hands gripping the edge of the counter, messy hair, you let your guard down when she does and my god — it's just what vi needed, that injection of adrenaline that keeps her body awake through the course of the seconds, interest, that damn tension that comes every time she stares at you more than she should.
the smell fills the kitchen, makes it warm and inviting to be in, maybe that would explain why she installs between your legs, hands gripping your thighs as she reaches the plates you signal over your head. close. aching to trespass that miserable space left behind she left to be educated.
"you hungry?" she dares to ask.
"starving."
appetite.
how was it again? violet vanderson's used to experience the devastating appetite.
when minutes later she's full and resting your legs over hers, a simple touch that makes vi's mind run wild with imagination: twenty minutes alone with you means an eternity of longing, of craving something forbidden, unsatisfied hunger.
"what are you thinking about?"
can she be honest right now? not really, not when her hand rests on your upper leg and her thumb constantly rubs on your naked skin, when she doesn't give two shits about the cold risotto whose remains lie now on the table long forgotten.
"you're usually bad at cooking risotto or is it a general thing?"
"this would be offensive, but most of the time i'm too tired to cook or live," you reply before eating again, savoring each bite. "you'd be surprised but take-out works wonders if you know how to choose the place."
"so you're not much of a party girl either, i see."
"after a 12-hour-shift? all i crave is my bed, i have no time to flirt so i just go straight to the point."
"that's why you invited me to a date where i have to cook?"
"yeah. you can say that, thankfully you accepted it cause it would be extra-crushing to be rejected for a second time" it's crazy how you lack inhibitions now, how any trace of shame is now gone to the point vi can hardly tell you were full of it when you were younger. "most people would say no thinking it's just a code to have sex but to be honest? i cannot think of dressing up to go outside with this weather going on, plus fridays are always brutal."
a fake moan, vi's fist closes right over her beating heart before her eyes follow in a pained expression — "so you don't want any sex? i'm hurt, peach. i feel misled."
"please, as if you're not too cool for me."
"cool?"
"michelin chef who lives far away from here and never comes to visit? that's pretty cool."
"so that's what you think of me, huh?"
"you always knew i found you out of my reach," you comment as you finally finish the risotto — "i'm positive you thought the same too."
"well, uh, you talked too much about the lord of the rings back then."
"fuck off. you cannot say eowyn's not hot," her brows furrow as you prove your point: still a nerd deep down. "i don't know, i was young and you were so confident about liking girls, of being you despite what people think-- meanwhile i was trying hard to believe i wasn't a lesbian at all, you can't blame a girl for a crush."
"for the record, i think you are far too cool now."
"do you?"
"you saved my arm," vi replies showing you the covered injury that landed her in the emergency room. "that's a cool thing to do, doc."
"i studied for that, tons" you laugh at her remark, staring at the white bandages that cover half of her arm. "how is it, by the way? pain too bad?"
"amazing since i have the best doctor in town to take care of my ass" it's a beneficial position at this point cause you're far too comfortable to look at her covered arm, stupidly close to where she is seated, tangled legs, vi's grip still on your thigh with no intentions of leaving. "you'd be surprised by the benefits that it can have."
"you shouldn't be forcing it so much-- the risotto, the date…"
"yeah? you think so?" do you even realize how close you fucking are? are you doing it on purpose? your body leans against her own and it's a heat that turns impossible to control: she's wearing a tank top for christ sake and you're on a black shirt she's sure you wore at work earlier thin as parchment paper. "cause all of that was your fault, you know? the date you invited me, the risotto you messed up, you're the one inciting me to do things when i should be resting."
she's not bothering to hide it now (never did), that flirt, that constant back and forth as you seem to have an answer for everything. it's tangible and there is no point to regret it cause well —, you're flirting back right? allowing her to touch you like that, with that half smile pulling your lips upwards in a charming smile even after you're tired. it may be the most relaxed date vi has ever experienced in her life, and weirdly enough the best, so when she's using her index finger to pull you closer to where she is, it's nothing but the cherry on top; the sweetest dessert and what both deserve.
it hooks on your shirt and you don't pretend to be surprised about it, about the reveal of desire, the rush of blood that leaves goosebumps on your skin when her mouth blends with your own and her tongue invades it like it's now enemy ground: that's a real moan, one that comes from vi's mouth to crash against your parted lips. messy, there is too much saliva, infinite desperation that somehow she craves more than the perfect kiss, instead, vi finds herself aching for the flawed, the contained chaos and the imperfect.
"go home then and pretend it didn't happen."
you're a cheeky bastard. you know she doesn't care about the bandages on her arm, about anything else other than getting lost in the moment, in the smell of your skin as you strip off that stupid shirt you've been wearing for so long.
"i may be a little rusty in this field," vi says looking at the cute bra you choose to wear, so red it's clear she's ashamed of saying it out loud. "be gentle with me, please."
the words come out on their own, the movie that keeps playing in the background, the smell that comes from the kitchen from a steamy casserole that still contains the warmth-- god there's tenderness in your touch, kindness in your kisses so much that she can be intoxicated with it after choosing a life of solitude and silence, after being too tired of having another person around. your touch is the one that surprisingly alleviates all worry, all bad.
you'd take care of her, right? cause fuck, she's your long-time crush, no? nice ass, delicious back tattoo. you can be anything she wants — happy to comply, happy to kiss her neck, happy to just notice how she holds her breath in when your tongue circles against that damn spot in her clavicle making the pink-haired sure you'll leave a hickey behind. suddenly your weight presses her down against your comfy sofa and it's a handful of real moans now, moans that keep so far from the fake ones she did before in a joke, ones that leave her throat dry only to turn you on.
how many times have you got your life crush there moaning for your kisses? hand on your waist, fighting to pull you closer and finally unhook your bra? even after a long shift, even when your bones are a weight that's annoying to carry, you kiss on the flesh to leave a mark, take her time in pleasing her cause you heard from jinx she's been having a rough time lately and she deserves it, right? when you get on your knees and you pull on her muscle tee upwards to kiss on her lower stomach making her shiver, you're a soldier to her pleasures, to simply keep going.
she encourages you, cause who's violet vanderson to ever deny any show of caring? her legs open to make space for you, and she gives you a pillow to put in your knees cause she knows how annoying it can be when the carpet sticks to your knees. knows.
"straight to the point, doc?" looking down at you, she's blushing as you unbutton her pants, helping you to finally get them off as they were always decoration of the floor.
"straight to the point," her arms rest behind her head and her muscles flex when you hit a sensitive spot gifting you such a nice view you can't pretend not to be checking her out — you want her like that, comfortable, relaxing, hazy eyes that stare at you almost as a dare, invested in every future move you make.
it's ridiculous. she's been slowly melting in a nice velvety sofa thanks to those heaty kisses you leave behind for the last fifteen minutes and it seems she cannot get tired of them, of how vi can see the saliva you leave behind on each proof of devotion: it's near pathetic to admit how she's been dreaming about you since her sister's birthday, stuck on your lips smoking that cigarette, that cloud that follows you around and only pushes her in.
so your touch becomes a vital need, a contagious disease when her whole body shivers and her hips buckle forward in need of having more of your face. she can't really complain about it when your tongue's invading her with practiced ease, pushing the chef to the edge of the seat so she can rest her legs over your shoulders and gift you the most comfortable access to her still covered cunt: turns out violent vanderson's a fucking needy mess who will cream her underwear before she's even touched.
when was the last time she had her pussy properly eaten? god, turning vi stupid even when she was relying on her five senses, a loser who soaks her underwear to the point its no longer usable. a mix of your saliva and arousal stains her inner thighs as she rubs herself against your mouth desperate to have more of your lips assaulting her covered cunt, soaked in every bit, somehow trying to make her underwear disappear so she can drown in the direct contact of your lips sucking her clit instead of the overwhelming torture of damn cotton.
"don't be rude-- please-" she trains on the gym every fucking day: why is she sweating like that? the image of having you there in your knees so eager to please fucking her brain entirely, soft voice that begs to be touched until you're pulling the fabric to the side and there it is — salty, it fills your mouth with a feast of flavors, pink and soaked hair from a pussy that's inviting you to take what you like, spread her out using your fingers, get dirty.
you take your time with her, cause you have it, right? you can have violet for the rest of the night. you can steal every breath when your tongue fucks her just right, nose rubbing on her g-spot on each try to go deeper, make her turn into a blabbering mess.
"fingers, ah--" it takes her a while, sensitive and overwhelmed and still greedy "can you like-, god…"
"you gonna fuck yourself on my fingers?" the way you say it turns her on more than it should, and her body betrays her when it keeps moving with the help of your hand now placed in her ass.
you're gentle at first, want to prepare her as a couple of fingers spread her cunt so you can slowly sink them until you're deliciously deep, sure she can feel you in that spot she needs. your tongue rubs on her clit without fully touching it, and vi's sure her brain-cells are close to combust, a constant movement she forces herself to continue on each motion her hips make: always full of your fingers, rubbing on that spot inside she now decides to love.
"there you go- s'good right? let me train this pretty cunt so i can fuck you better with another finger, yeah? god-- how can you look this hot, vi."
you're going to be her pending doom, the handsome devil that stalks every thought even when you don't try cause the way you look between her legs? demonic. hands gripping on her sides to pull her closer to your mouth, eyes staring back at her own, your tongue seems to go in full motion with you fingers and shit — how do you make it so good? what the fuck are you doing down there to make her feel this nice?
swollen clit, your fingers curve inside to the point and fuck-- vi's losing it, hand holding you close to her cunt so she can use you how she wants to, loud and erratic moans praising on your skills, on how good you are at eating her soaked cunt to the points its all over your cheeks.
"mmf-m'gonna cum like that--," rough voice, it's so nice to see her like that when she's usually so composed, so serious. her body moves on its own and her face finally distorts when finally reaching her peak, leaving her legs shaking, it's an arrow that's shot to the chest and steals the air from vi's lungs as you use a hand to spread her folds and take care of the mess you've done between the chef's legs.
she wants to keep going, adrenaline injected into the blood flow before vi pulls you up to her lap interrupting all tries to stay nested there in her cunt — it's all fun and games but deep down it's a fight for who's in control, isn't it all? even out of breath, hair sticking to the sides of her face as a lazy smile appears on her face: are you glowing? is it the sweat that makes your skin all shiny under the lights of your apartment? fuck-- crazy how vi starts to need you under her.
"you okay up there?" she asks instead, thumbs helping you to clean your cheeks in the last act of chivalry.
"i am" you reply, leaning against her touch to get more of the warmth of her hands. "are you, rusty lady?"
"think i am--, that was some heavy activity doc, thought i needed some rest."
"you rested. on the sofa. that was-- very low effort for you" it's a good point, and vi cannot think of a clever reply when your kisses are distracting her to form a thought on her own. "are you in pain?"
who the fuck cares about pain when you begin sucking on her thumb? making sure any trace of her stays on your mouth rather than your cheek or her hand — maybe it's the adrenaline of the moment, the rush of endorphins that run to leave vi full of the dopamine she lacked when she ends up turned on once again as if she wasn't chaotic already getting wet in your living room.
"mmhm no, no pain-- does it taste good?"
"yeah, wanna try?"
she likes to be this filthy, mouth wide open, tongue up before her head's tilting backwards and shit: it should be illegal, a capital sin when you hoover just how you did when she was cooking before to now gather a decent amount of saliva and simply spit against her parted lips; it's her, right? mixed with your very own personal taste, a blend that stays there imprinted on her brain and makes her malfunction cause it's not something that common to have a pretty girl there willing to spit on her mouth after eating her brains out.
desire is radical, desire is unexpected and a curse cause there's no such rational thought when vi's pulling on your jeans with the insane need of fucking you to the verge of tears, no fight for dominance now as you shimmy out of your clothes already feeling sticky. desire is raw and turns her desperate, the vision of a person who once cared for comfort and now pushes you roughly back to her lap.
"where's your room?" so yeah, she wants to fuck you properly, pointing the closed door with your index finger, your underwear already rests in the floor midway before she's throwing you in the good-queen-sized bed, bad jokes, horny comments, vi has no trouble to move you around and put you in the position she wants you to be, one hand on your ankle while the other's on your waist so it takes little to no time to understand her intentions with no need to say a word.
she pushes you down when she places herself on top of you, tangled legs, vi simply fits against you without much effort so it becomes a sight there laying in the comfortable sheets, sweaty body, her tits bounce every time her hips rolls against yours so her mess is now your mess and the shapes of your body and her own blurry to the point of the erratic and you can't tell now about anything else more than the sounds you two make on each movement, when finally becoming one.
it's wet, fills the room so it's hot, so your breathing reduces considerably and you finally let her do the job, keep rubbing her soaked pussy against yours so it leaks to the bed and stains your clean sheets. loud moans, vi's ego's inflated with the pride of making you act like that, resting your weight over your elbows so you can spread yourself wider, give her more space so the contact can be even more devastating.
"good fuck-- you're such a greedy slut," a guilty smile, are you even aware of your existence anymore? when the bed hits the wall in the most annoying sound and her hand closes around your neck to keep you controlled, are you aware of your fucked-self? aching to keep you still as she forces your breathing channel, your cunt on each movement. "there you go, be good and touch that pretty pussy for me, yeah? help me out."
trembling hands, your fingers circle against your clit in slow motions, already overwhelmed when vi's leaning to spit directly to your working fingers, lubricating your g-spot so you can go faster, combine your movements with her own until you're moaning her name, praising the skills of your lover like they're sacred, a new religion to follow.
relentless, she doesn't stop until your body's rigid, limbs cramped before you reach the most delicious orgasm, sensitive cunt, it's a shared chaos that stains your inner thighs in a delicious mix vi suddenly crave to taste.
"well fuck--" it's a problem now, officially. her thoughts betrayed her so now she's lusting over her little sister's best friend to the point it becomes real, real as the warmth your body radiates when you crawl under the bed seeking for contact, a silence that weighs down the meaning of having a new shared secret, intimacy neither of you searched for. "so much for being rusty, liar."
do problems matter anymore? if powder gets mad because she fucked her friend, so what? it's a connection her sibling cannot control as vi laughs at your remark, leaving a soft kiss on your shoulder with the weird need to stay instead of leaving early like she usually does whenever someone's interested in her.
"i am rusty, you're just kind."
so maybe that's the last thing she needs, get all complicated like that, mix up her feelings with your own. she has a restaurant in another city, a life outside zaun and lots of money problems to take care of — so maybe she doesn't need a younger girlfriend that messages almost too much, who keeps her fucking horny all of the time.
"m'gonna take a shower in twenty minutes-- do you think we should order junk food?"
her face betrays her when she listens to your words, quickly shaking her head in response — "no fucking way. i think you should be saying goodbye to delivery apps for a while, peach."
she needs to stay, right? it would leave her arm in danger as she kisses you once again, always close: who would take care of her injured body?
so how was it again? ah. sure.
violet vanderson has experienced appetite before, plenty of times to be honest, but now she has a younger girlfriend to take care of it, more bills to pay and a very angry sister.
Warnings!: Soft dom!ellie, sub!reader, sexual themes, light smut / non-explicit intimacy, gentle power dynamics, praise kink, slight teasing, kissing, touching, Oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving) emotional vulnerability, language
W.C: 2,575
Summary: Late at night, when everything finally goes quiet, you find yourself alone with Ellie in a rare moment of calm. What starts as simple conversation slowly turns softer, more personal, as the distance between you fades. In the stillness, there’s a growing tension…unspoken feelings surfacing in the quiet, where neither of you has to pretend anymore.
Note: This is a bit smaller then my joel one, but im so sleepy, I love ellie cause my girlfriend looks like ellie, shout out to my gf!!
The building had gone still hours ago. No footsteps in the halls, no distant voices, just the faint hum of wind outside and the soft creak of old wood settling into the night. It was the kind of quiet that felt rare. Fragile.
Ellie sat beside you on the worn couch, one leg stretched out, the other pulled in slightly, her fingers absently tracing along the edge of her sleeve. She wasn’t looking at you..just ahead, like she always did when she was thinking too much.
“You ever notice,” she muttered, voice low so it wouldn’t carry, “how everything feels… louder when it’s this quiet?”
You glanced over at her. “Kinda the opposite of how that should work.”
She huffed a quiet laugh, finally turning her head. Her eyes lingered on you a second too long before flicking away again. “Yeah, well. My brain doesn’t really do ‘normal.’”
Silence slipped back in-but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Not like it used to be.
Your shoulder brushed hers when you shifted, and neither of you pulled away.
That was new.
Ellie noticed it too-you could tell by the way her fingers stilled, the way her breath caught just slightly before evening out again. She didn’t move, though. Didn’t make a joke. Didn’t break it.
Instead, she leaned..just barely..enough that the contact felt intentional.
“Y’know,” she said, softer now, “these are… kinda my favorite parts of the day.”
You turned your head toward her. “The quiet?”
She shook her head a little, eyes flicking up to meet yours. There was something different there, less guarded. More honest.
“…this,” she admitted.
The space between you suddenly felt smaller. Warmer.
Your hand shifted against the couch cushion, and her gaze dropped to it for a second before lifting again, searching your face like she was waiting, checking.
When your fingers brushed hers, slow and careful, Ellie didn’t hesitate this time.
She turned her hand, lacing your fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And for once… it kind of was. Ellie’s thumb shifted slightly against your hand, almost like she was testing it, making sure you wouldn’t pull away.
You didn’t.
Her shoulders dropped a fraction, tension easing out of her in a way that felt quiet but real. She let out a slow breath, eyes flicking down to where your fingers were still intertwined before she leaned back into the couch a little more, this time, taking you with her.
Your sides pressed together now, warmer than before.
“Don’t make it weird,” she mumbled, though there was no real bite to it.
A small smile tugged at your lips. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good,” Ellie said quickly, but her mouth twitched like she was fighting her own smile.
“Y’know,” she murmured, voice quieter than before, “you’re… really not helping my whole ‘thinking too much’ problem.”
You glanced at her, barely an inch between you now. “How’s that?”
Her eyes flicked to your lips for just a second-quick, but not quick enough to miss.
“…just not,” she said, like that explained anything at all.
You let out a soft laugh under your breath, and something about it made her look back at you again-really look this time. Not guarded. Not distant. The room felt smaller again, the quiet pressing in around you in the best way.
Her grip on your hand tightened just slightly.
Ellie’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly.
Like she was grounding herself.
Or maybe grounding you.
Her gaze didn’t leave your face this time, didn’t dart away like it usually did when things got too real. Instead, she stayed there, close enough that you could feel her breath, uneven but steadying the longer neither of you pulled back.
“…you’re staring,” you whispered, though there was no real complaint in it.
“Yeah,” she replied quietly. “I know.”
But she didn’t stop.
The space between you felt impossibly small.
And then her eyes dropped again..just for a second,to your lips.
This time, she didn’t look away right after.
Her breath hitched, barely noticeable, and her forehead nudged a little more firmly against yours. Not enough to push, just enough to ask.
A pause.
A quiet, fragile kind of moment where everything seemed to balance on what happened next.
Ellie exhaled softly, her voice barely there when she spoke again.
“…tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”
She didn’t move yet.
Didn’t close the distance.
Just waited, still holding your hand, still right there, giving you the space to decide.
And just like that you lean in and kiss her.
It’s soft at first. Careful.
Like you’re both still figuring out if this is real.
Ellie goes still for half a second, like her brain short-circuits-but then her hand tightens around yours, and she leans into it, kissing you back just as gently. There’s something hesitant in it, but warm… like she’s been wanting this longer than she’ll ever admit.
Her free hand comes up slowly, pausing for just a second near your arm before settling there, fingers curling lightly into your sleeve like she needs something to hold onto.
The kiss deepens just a little, not rushed, not overwhelming, just enough to feel her relax into it, her nerves melting into something softer.
You feel her hands travel to your butt. The shift in her touch is sudden, a sharp contrast to the tentative, quiet warmth of the moment before. Ellie’s fingers, which had been clutching your sleeve with such careful hesitation, slide down your back with a newfound, bold intent.
The air in the room seems to get even heavier, the "quiet" she mentioned earlier now replaced by the audible thrum of your own heartbeat. When her hands settle, she doesn't pull away; instead, she pulls you a fraction closer, narrowing the last bit of daylight between your bodies.
She breaks the kiss just enough to breathe, her forehead still resting against yours. A small, breathless huff of a laugh escapes her-half-surprised at her own nerve, half-challenging you to say something about it.
"Thought I said don't make it weird," she mumbles against your lips, though her grip tells a completely different story. Her eyes are dark, focused, and definitely not "thinking too much" about anything other than the person in front of her.
The couch creaks as she shifts her weight, her thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle through the fabric of your clothes. The "fragile" feeling of the night has hardened into something much more solid, and much more electric.
You smile and sit up on her lap and take off your shirt throwing it to the side leaving you in your bra and pants and underwear. The fabric of your shirt lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten, and for a moment, the only thing that matters is the stark reality of the space you’ve just created.
Her hands, which had been resting on you a moment ago, now hesitate in the air before they find purchase, firm and warm against your waist. Her touch is grounding, her fingers pressing into your skin as if to verify that you’re really here, really doing this.
"Okay," she breathes, the word barely a whisper, breathless and uneven. She doesn't pull back-if anything, her grip on your waist tightens, pulling you just a little bit closer against her. Her gaze locks onto yours, searching your face for any sign of hesitation, but her own resolve is unwavering now. The slight tremble in her hands betrays how much this is affecting her, but she doesn't try to hide it anymore.
She leans in, her forehead resting against your shoulder for a brief second, a shaky exhale catching in her throat before she tilts her head back to look at you, her expression shifting into something softer, yet infinitely more intense.
"You really don't play fair, do you?" she murmurs, her voice rough at the edges.
“Ellie, are you gonna touch me or not?” You say giggling. The sound of your giggle seems to break whatever trance she was in, sparking a flash of that familiar, sharp wit in her eyes, only this time, it’s flavored with something much hotter.
"Patience is a virtue, or whatever," she retorts, though the bravado is undercut by the way her voice cracks.
She doesn't wait another second. Her hands slide up from your waist, her palms hot against your skin, tracing the line of your ribs until they reach the edge of your bra. Her touch isn't hesitant anymore; it’s deliberate, an exploration that feels like she’s trying to memorize the texture of you.
She leans forward, closing the tiny gap between you until her lips are hovering just inches from yours, her breath ghosting over your mouth.
"Since you’re in such a rush," she murmurs, a smirk finally tugging at the corner of her mouth, "maybe I should take my time."
One of her hands moves to the back of your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair to gently pull your head back, exposing the line of your throat. She doesn't go for your lips this time. Instead, she drops her head, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the spot just below your jaw, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver.
The "thinking too much" problem she mentioned earlier? It's clearly gone. She’s focused entirely on the here and now, her movements becoming more confident as she realizes just how much power she has in this moment.
The initial shock of her teeth grazing your skin sends a sharp, electric shiver straight down your spine, forcing a soft, breathless gasp from your lips. Ellie seems to feed off your reaction. She doesn't pull away; instead, her hold on the back of your neck stays firm, keeping you exactly where she wants you. The kiss she presses against your neck is slow, deliberate, and undeniably possessive.
She shifts her hips again, the movement intentional and heavy, her hands sliding from your neck down to your shoulders, her thumbs tracing deep, grounding circles into your collarbones.
"See?" she whispers, her voice dropping to that low, raspy register that makes your stomach flip. "I told you I wasn't making it weird."
Slowly her hands travel down and touch your belt pulling it off with the rest of your clothes at the bottom, and of course she reaches up and takes your bra off. Ellie lets out a low, shaky breath against your shoulder, her grip tightening on your waist as if she’s grounding herself in the sensation of you being this close, this open. She seems mesmerized, her eyes tracing the lines of your body with an intensity that makes you feel both exposed and completely, perfectly worshipped.
"You have no idea," she murmurs against your skin, her voice barely a thread of sound, raw and trembling with desire. "How long have I wanted to see you like this."
"You know what. I’m done thinking," she murmurs, her lips hovering a hair's breadth from yours. "I just want to feel you."
She doesn't wait for an answer. She closes the distance, her kiss deep and searching, while her hand slides down your back, pulling you so tightly against her that you can feel the frantic, matching rhythm of her heart against your own.
The weight of her words lingers in the small space between you, and as she looks at you, it’s clear the time for talking is over. Ellie’s hands, firm and steady now, slide from your waist down to your thighs. She guides you back against the cushions of the couch, her eyes never leaving yours until you’re settled, open and vulnerable beneath her gaze.
She sinks to her knees on the floor between your legs, the shift in height making the room feel even quieter, even more focused. For a heartbeat, she just looks at you-really looks, her expression a mix of reverence and a hunger she’s finally stopped trying to hide. Then, she leans forward.
Her first touch is soft, her tongue tracing a slow, agonizingly careful path along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You let out a jagged breath, your fingers knotting into the fabric of the couch, and she responds to the sound by pressing closer. When she finally moves to the center of you, her touch is expert and incredibly deliberate. She uses her tongue with a rhythmic, swirling pressure that makes your toes curl and your head fall back against the cushions.
She’s focused, her breath hot against you, making every sensation feel amplified in the silent building. As you begin to find a rhythm, she slides two fingers inside you, her movements deep and steady, perfectly synchronized with the work of her mouth. The combination is overwhelming; the friction and the wet warmth of her tongue against your clit, paired with the internal stretch of her fingers, sends waves of heat through your entire body.
Ellie lets out a muffled, satisfied sound against your skin when she feels your muscles start to tighten around her fingers. She doesn't slow down; if anything, she increases the pace, her thumb pressing down to add even more pressure. She’s grounding you, holding you through the storm of sensation she’s creating, making sure you feel every single second of it.
"That's it," she murmurs against you, her voice a low vibration that you feel as much as hear. "Just for me."
The sound of your name-or the fragmented way you try to say hers, is lost to the quiet room as the pressure builds. Ellie is relentless, her fingers moving with a heavy, driving rhythm that feels like it’s reaching right into the center of you. She knows exactly what she’s doing; she’s watching the way your back arches off the couch, the way your hands tangle in her hair to pull her closer, and she uses that reaction to push even harder.
The friction of her tongue is sharp and electric, and when she curls her fingers inside you, hitting that one spot that makes your vision go hazy, the world finally tilts.
You break.
Your breath hitches, then comes out in a long, shaky cry as the first wave of the climax hits, rolling through your muscles in a way that makes everything else disappear. Ellie doesn't pull away. She stays right there, holding you through the peak, her mouth still pressed against you to catch every tremor. She feels the way you pulse around her fingers, her own breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps against your skin.
Slowly, the intensity begins to settle into a warm, heavy thrum. Ellie finally pulls back, though she stays between your knees for a moment, her face flushed and her lips glistening. She looks up at you, her hair a mess and her eyes bright with a mixture of pride and something deeply, genuinely soft.
She climbs back onto the couch, her movements slightly uncoordinated from the adrenaline, and pulls you into her side. She wraps an arm around you, tucking your head under her chin as you both try to find your breath again. The quiet of the building returns, but it’s different now, it's filled with the sound of two hearts finally beating in the same room, at the same speed.
"See?" she whispers into your hair, her voice still a little wrecked. "Told you... favorite part of the day."
you & ellie take tabs chocolate, and fuck around like bunnies.
warnings: fem!reader, tabs chocolate, pwp, established relationship, thigh riding, praise kink, drooling, manhandling, kissing, biting, desperate sub top!ellie, sub bottom!reader, several rounds, strap, bulging
word count: 1.4k words
read on archive.
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“Remember we’re gonna go just to get bread,” Ellie said, putting her jacket on, “that also cause I can’t survive without grilled cheese.”
“Yeah, I know.”
You checked your outfit for the seventh time that morning, before picking up your car keys but the moment you did, Ellie swatted them out of your hand. You blinked at her, confused.
“What?”
“You ain’t ever drivin’ when I’m here,” Ellie wrapped one arm around your waist, “just be my pretty passenger princess.”
“You’re too much.” You giggled but you were blushing.
“You love it.”
“Damn right, I do.”
You both walked out of the house. You turned to lock the door and Ellie went to rev the car out of the parking lot. Once she did, she opened the car door for you. You got in, she closed it and returned to the drivers’ side.
“We’ve never really been grocery shopping so early before.”
“Well, technically we’re not grocery shopping… just bread.”
“Just bread, got it.”
Yeah, well you knew Ellie wouldn’t ever settle for “just bread”.
If she saw the apple juice she loved so much, she would give you puppy eyes til you put it in the basket and bought it despite what you both agreed on back at home. Those were just the little things that bonded you and Ellie.
She parked once you both reached, and before you could reach for the door— she jogged on to the other side and opened it.
“Come on, princess.”
You rolled your eyes affectionately, “you’re such a show off.”
“Gotta treat my babygirl right.”
You smacked her playfully, “go fetch bread.”
“M’not a dog.” Ellie huffed.
You raised a brow and gave her the look.
Yeah, she remembered the collar and leash in the bedroom. With a groan, she walked ahead into the store anyway. You laughed softly and followed her in. As you looked at the dates on the back of the bread to make sure it’s fresh, you heard another couple behind you.
“Oh my god, we should really try those viral TABS chocolate.”
“Isn’t that just Viagra?”
Your interest was piqued.
“Els, can you go ahead and pay?” You handed it to her.
“Yeah, sure.”
You took your phone out, and typed in TABS chocolate. It seemed like an interesting thing to try in the bedroom, and you and Ellie were always looking to try new things so it seemed like a really good opportunity. You glanced at her.
She stood by the counter, waiting for the person ahead to finish. You looked back at your phone, and ordered a pack before pocketing it and acting like you didn’t just order something aphrodisiac-induced over the phone.
“Ready to go?” Ellie asked, offering a hand.
You took it with an innocent smile on your lips, “yeah, let’s go.”
Within the next week, the chocolates had arrived. You were extra careful, hiding it from Ellie as you brought it in and carefully unwrapped it before snapping off a significantly large piece.
Ellie was sitting in the living room, cross legged on the couch as her eyes remained focused on the TV screen, fingers dancing over the console buttons like second nature. You took a seat beside her, scooting closer til your leg touched hers.
“Hi, baby.”
“Hey,” Ellie muttered, “need somethin’?”
“No,” you leaned your head on her shoulder, watching her play, “I have something for you.”
“What is it?”
“Chocolate.”
You held up a piece with a smile.
Ellie glanced. “Just chocolate?”
“Yeah, just chocolate,” you giggled softly, “what else does it look like?”
“Nothin’.” Ellie reached over, catching the piece between her teeth before chewing and eventually taking it in her mouth.
You smiled, satisfied, “is it good?”
“Yeah,” Ellie chewed, “it’s chocolate.”
You gave it just enough time for Ellie to realise what she’d eaten wasn’t just chocolate. It was something way stronger.
“Baby, what was that thing you gave me?”
“What thing?”
You tilted your head innocently, a smile on your face as you slowly took your bathrobe off. You were fresh out of the shower, body smelling softly of vanilla as you stood there naked in front of your girlfriend who visibly was malfunctioning.
“Oh. My. Fucking. Goodness.”
Ellie stepped closer and then just dropped to her knees. A low thud.
She remained there, kneeling in front of you. Her hands touched your bare thighs like you weren’t real.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty.”
You grinned a little, “you wanna get in bed?”
“Fuck, yeah,” Ellie said with a desperate nod and quickly pulled her shirt off, throwing it to a corner followed quickly by the rest of her clothes.
It started slowly. You climbed into Ellie’s lap, and her hands found your waist like she’d memorised the shape of your body ages ago. She held you there and moved you back and forth.
Your bare pussy rubbed against her thigh, creating friction that made it get wetter. You shivered, shoulders tensing.
“Oh, oh, that feels so good.”
“Yeah baby?” Ellie pulled you in for a kiss.
Your lips met hers and you swore you felt like you were in heaven.
She moved against you rough, like she’d been craving for intimacy for months if not years. Her hands around your body tightened. She grunted softly, feeling the sudden drip of wetness.
“Fuck, babe,” she pulled away from a second, then bit your bottom lip.
You moaned, eyes closing.
“You look so good makin’ a mess on my thigh. Make me wanna just pin y’down, ass up, and fuck you til you pass out.”
“Ellie, stop, you’re— you’re too much…” you mumbled, your cheeks red.
Ellie didn’t listen. She wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.
“Y’really got some nerve, y’know, tellin’ me to stop when you’re the one that drugged me.”
You whined, “baby, please…”
“Uh-huh,” she pulled you in for another kiss.
You kissed her back automatically, your pussy clenching around nothing. Ellie felt it. Her hand dropped down to cup your ass. A subtle squeeze.
You parted from the kiss.
“You ain’t got no choice, princess.”
That just turned you on even more.
You drooled, mind feeling hazy because of the intensity of the pleasure but you didn’t want her to stop.
“Els, fuck, please. Please, make me feel good.”
Ellie’s grip on your ass tightened, “y’think you deserve it?”
You nodded. “Yes… please. Please, don’t tease.”
Ellie flipped you open. You squeaked softly.
Her fingers found your cunt, rubbing up the lips before two fingers pushed up against your slit. You whined and clutched the sheets.
Ellie’s fingers moved inside fast thanks to how wet you already were. Your eyes closed tightly as you fought the urge to drool.
Ellie’s fingers moved fast and rough. Your moans slurred with the words you failed to speak. The pleasure was overwhelming you.
She was moving way too fast. You gasped softly.
“Oh! Oh my gosh…”
And finished all over her fingers. Ellie turned you over so you were on your back, rubbing your lower abdomen.
“Fuck, I can’t wait to fuck you with my strap,” she said, reaching for the toy from her beside table drawer.
Your eyes were closed until you felt the prodding tip of her strap against your entrance.
She pushed it in slowly, watching as your hole stretched around the silicone dick, easily taking her in. You whined and gripped the sheets tighter, your back arching as your body stretched to accommodate the big toy.
Ellie rubbed your tummy, her warm palm against your skin as she whispered, “there she goes, that’s my girl.”
You tightened around the toy, clenching around her, “Ellie, Els! Oh my gosh, that feels so good.”
Ellie started moving, her hips slapping the back of your thighs as she folded you. You could feel the way the bulbous head of the toy started bulging your tummy. Ellie rubbed that part, letting you feel just how full you were.
“There you go, princess. You’re so pretty like this. Fuck, if only I could keep this sweet pussy full of me all the time like this.”
Ellie fucked you harder. Your eyes closed, brows curling up.
“Baby! I’m— I’m s—”
Your head tipped back, a thin ring of cream forming around the base of the strap as you came again. Ellie cussed under her breath and rubbed your clit with her thumb, feeling your sticky cum against her finger.
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