Outta My Mind | Vi X Fem!reader, Fluff, Smut (18+ MDNI) Wc: 20k
outta my mind | vi x fem!reader, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI) wc: 20k
synopsis: you didn’t plan on falling for anyone, let alone the painfully attractive bartender at the underground bar your friends dragged you to. she’s trouble, but she’s the kind you don’t mind getting into. | masterlist
content warnings: bartender!vi x fem!reader — modern au, bartender!vi, college student!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn ish, drinking/alcohol, flirting, mutual pining, pet names; baby, princess, sweetheart, smut!!!; top!vi, bottom!reader, semi-public sex, making out, marking/hickeys, fingering (r receiving), pls let me know if i’m missing anything else!
note: lovely request by @balinor93 ! fanart by wickestd on twitter! ( title inspo from song called outta my mind by monsune )
YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.
It was an underground pub, called the Last Drop, tucked between an alley of a street near your campus. The air inside is heavy, thick with a haze of cigarette smoke and the low hum of chatter and laughter. The brick walls are decorated with bright paintings and band posters, chipped and scratched in places, and adorned with flickering neon signs advertising cheap liquor and beers on tap. It’s dimly lit, with most of the light spilling from the bar itself—a warm glow reflecting off rows of liquor bottles stacked neatly against the back wall. The scent of stale beer and faint traces of spilled whiskey linger in the air, mingling with the beat of a bass-heavy track pulsing through the speakers.
You didn’t really plan to be here tonight.
In fact, you pictured something far less chaotic—maybe sitting cross-legged on your tiny dorm bed, your laptop open to half-hearted notes, headphones in to drown out the incessant noise of your hallmates partying down the corridor.
Finals week was looming, but somehow you found yourself here instead, caught up by a friend you weren’t too close with, Maddie, who told you to wear something cute and live a little.
You glance down at yourself, suddenly self-conscious in the outfit you hastily threw together—something a little nicer than your usual, a pretty black dress you found in your closet a jacket to battle the cold, though, it was not nearly as flashy as what your classmates seem to have pulled off effortlessly.
The slight chill in the room makes you tug at the sleeves of your jacket as you follow your group further inside, weaving through the crowd that seems to grow louder and rowdier by the minute.
Your friend is already laughing, tossing her short hair over her shoulder as she chats with someone from another group, leaving you trailing behind. They surge toward the bar, a noisy clump of university students jostling for attention from the bartender. You linger at the edge of the crowd, unsure of whether to join in or keep your distance.
Your eyes wander across the room, taking in the mismatched furniture and the way the low-hanging lights cast strange shadows over the scuffed wooden floor. It feels gritty, raw—nothing like the polished campus lounges or cafes you’re used to. People are packed into every available space, some leaning close to shout over the music, others pressed together in corners.
When you finally look toward the bar, something—or other, someone—catches your attention.
She’s pretty tall, her toned, tattooed arms flexing subtly as she works, pouring drinks expertly without even looking at her hands sometimes. Short, pink hair glows faintly under the neon lights, messy and partly shaved on the side of her head, but it was like she rolled out of bed and still managed to look better than anyone else in the room. She’s wearing a fitted black tee, tattoos peeking out along her biceps as she slides a drink across the counter to a waiting customer.
She glances up for the briefest moment, her sharp blue eyes scanning the crowd—and they land on you. Just for a second, you think, but it’s enough to make your pulse quicken.
But you look away before you could give her a chance to the way your cheeks reddened slightly, thought it would’ve been hard to see anyway underneath the dimness of the light.
You ended up in a booth in one of the corners of the room, sitting with a couple of your classmates as they drank and ate their pizza. The booth creaks slightly as you lean back, your drink—something simple and unadventurous—sitting untouched in front of you.
The group you came with has scattered across the room now to various corners of the bar, their loud laughter and shouts blending into the rest of the noise.
You’re not sure why you agreed to come tonight. Finals around the corner were stressful enough without the added distraction of cheap liquor and the kind of music that vibrates in your chest.
Across from you, someone slides into the booth with a bit too much enthusiasm, too much confidence, their knee knocking against yours under the table.
You glance up to find a man from your group—one of those classmates whose name you barely remember—flashing you a wide grin. Jason? Jacob? He had short brown hair, a white button up under his coat and smells faintly of whiskey and strong cologne, his cheeks flushed in a way that suggests he’s had a drink too many.
“Hey,” he says, his voice pitched louder than it needs to be over the music. “You’re in Professor Medarda’s class, right? Postmodern lit?”
You blink at him, already regretting this conversation.
“Yeah,” you reply, tone flat, hoping he’ll get the hint and move on.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he leans in, propping his elbow on the sticky table like he’s settling in for a long chat.
“Aren’t you the one who absolutely wrecked her in that debate? Something about, what was it—‘deconstructing the deconstruction’ or whatever?” He waves a hand vaguely, his grin turning lopsided. “Man, that was brutal. Everyone was talking about it for days.”
You press your lips into a thin line, your gaze drifting toward the bar. The bartender with the pink hair is still there, moving effortlessly behind the bar underneath the warm glow of the lights. She laughs at something one of the regulars says, the sound faint but distinct over the din, and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere but here, maybe talking to her instead of… this guy.
“Yeah, well,” you say finally, dragging your attention back to him. “It wasn’t… really a debate. I just pointed out that her entire argument was contradictory.”
Jason-or-Jacob—whatever—laughs, a little too loudly, and takes a swig of his drink.
“See, that’s what I mean! It’s… it’s impressive… And not to mention… you’re… really pretty on the eyes.” He gestures vaguely in your direction, his eyes lingering a little too long.
You shift uncomfortably as you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Uh… right, thanks.”
He chuckles again, clearly not picking up on your disinterest. “No, seriously. You’re, like, intimidating. Smart. And hot. In a good way.”
“Uh-huh.” You tap your fingers against the edge of your glass, your patience wearing thin. “Listen, if this is your way of hitting on me, you might want to workshop it… or something.”
That finally seems to trip him up, his grin faltering as he moves awkwardly in his seat. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just…”
“Right,” you cut him off, standing and grabbing your drink. “Thanks for the conversation, but I’m gonna go… anywhere else.”
You don’t bother waiting for his response as you stand and step away from the booth, weaving through the crowd.
The bar feels slightly less oppressive now that you’re moving, and as you approach the counter, you can’t help but glance toward the bartender again. She’s wiping down a glass, her movements precise, and for the second time tonight, her eyes meet yours. This time, there’s a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe—as her lips twitch into a subtle smirk.
You set your drink down on the counter, your heart skipping just a little. Maybe tonight isn’t a complete waste after all.
The stool creaks faintly as you settle onto it, the weight of the night pressing on your shoulders. You prop your elbow on the bar and glance down at your drink, still untouched. The condensation clings to the glass, cool against your fingertips as you absently trail them along its surface.
The music feels louder here, basslines thrumming through the wooden counter, but it fades into the background every time your gaze drifts upward—to her.
The bartender.
She’s been moving nonstop, hands deft and practiced as she pours drinks, slides glasses across the counter, and exchanges brief words with customers. She was confident and smooth without even trying, her short pink hair glowing faintly under the neon lights that flicker lazily behind her.
You tell yourself you’re not staring, but you are.
She’s impossibly attractive, the kind of person who seems entirely out of reach—too cool, too confident, too… everything. And yet, you catch yourself glancing her way more often than you should, trying to look away quickly enough that she doesn’t notice.
You sigh, shifting in your seat as you fiddle with your drink again, fingers tracing patterns on the glass. You haven’t taken a sip, and you’re not even sure why you ordered it. It was just something to hold, something to keep you occupied in this crowded room.
Just as you glance up again, hoping to catch another fleeting glimpse of her, a voice interrupts your thoughts.
“Hey there,” someone slurs, the words thick and clumsy.
You blink, turning to find a man standing far too close, his grin lopsided and his eyes glassy from too many drinks. His shirt is untucked, and he sways slightly as he leans an elbow on the bar, effectively blocking your view of anything else—including her.
“You’re way too pretty to be sitting here all alone,” he says, his words slurred but bold. “Let me keep you company, yeah?”
“I’m not alone,” you say flatly, holding up your glass like it’s proof. “And, I’m not interested.”
He laughs, as if you’ve said something charming. “Nah, come on. You’re too gorgeous to be hiding away in the corner. You need someone to—”
“No,” you interrupt, your tone sharp. “I’m really not interested.”
But he doesn’t take the hint. Instead, he leans in closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Don’t be like that. Just one drink, huh? I promise I’m a good time.”
You grimace, leaning back and trying to create some distance. “And I promise I’m not.”
The man chuckles, as if he thinks you’re joking, and you feel your frustration rising. You glance around, hoping someone—anyone—might intervene, and that’s when you notice her again. The bartender.
She’s been watching, her sharp eyes narrowing as she assesses the situation. Her hands pause mid-motion as she sets down a freshly poured drink, and without missing a beat, she walks over to your side of the bar.
“Hey,” she says, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
The drunk man looks up, startled, as she plants both hands on the counter, leaning slightly forward. Her gaze is steely as she stares down the man next to you.
“You bothering her?” she asks, her tone deceptively casual, though there’s a warning laced in her words.
The man blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What? No, we were just talkin’.”
“Yeah, well, she doesn’t look like she’s enjoying the conversation,” she replies smoothly. Then she turns her attention to you, her expression softening just a fraction. “You good, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. The word sends a small jolt through your chest, and for a moment, you can only shake your head, your voice caught in your throat.
The man mutters something under his breath, but the bartender doesn’t budge.
“You should go.” she says firmly. “Or I’ll have someone make you leave.”
He hesitates, but the weight of her stare is enough to make him backpedal. He stumbles away, disappearing into the crowd, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
“Thanks,” you murmur, glancing up at her.
You see her more clearly now. Light blue eyes. A strong nose. A small scar over her top lip. Another one over her eyebrow. Nose ring. And a small tattoo of the Roman numeral six on her cheek.
She straightens, brushing her hands off on a rag as a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips.
“Don’t mention it. A lot of people don’t know how to take a hint.”
You can’t help but smile faintly, your fingers still absently fiddling with your glass. “You seem good at dealing with them… They listen to you.”
“Well, there’s this rule around here that, uh, people shouldn’t really mess with the guy who pours the drinks, so… they either listen or I call Loris—our big scary bouncer.” she says with a smile, leaning against the bar now, her full attention on you.
“Do they always listen?”
The bartender smiles that charming smile of hers and simply says, “No.”
She clears her throat and looks down at your hands, then looks back up at you with an eyebrow raised.
“You gonna drink that, or is it just decoration?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” you say. Her teasing tone makes your cheeks warm. You glance down at your untouched drink, swirling the liquid idly in the glass before muttering, almost to yourself, “I don’t actually drink that often, to be honest…”
Her voice pulls you from your thoughts, warm and teasing. “A glass of water for the pretty lady, coming right up.”
Your head snaps up at the words, your cheeks instantly heating. She’s already reaching for a clean glass. But there’s something different now—something about the way she smirks just a little as she glances at you out of the corner of her eye.
“Pretty lady?” you echo, trying for casual, though you’re sure the slight waver in your voice gives you away.
She shrugs as she fills the glass with water, the ice clinking softly against the sides.
“Well, yeah,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What else would I call you?”
Your stomach flips at the nonchalant confidence in her tone, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. “I don’t know. Most people just go with my name.”
She places the water in front of you, her smile widening just enough to show off the faintest hint of dimples. “Fair enough. But I don’t know your name yet.”
You hesitate, caught between the urge to give her your name and the inexplicable nerves that come with her attention.
You tell her your name, your voice a bit quieter than you intended.
Her smirk softens into something more genuine, and she repeats your name back to you, slow and deliberate, like she’s trying it out.
“I’m Vi,” she says.
Vi. The name suits her—short, sharp, and just as bold as the woman herself.
“Thanks for the water,” you manage to say, your fingers brushing the cool glass.
“Anytime.” Vi leans her weight on her forearms, resting them on the counter as she tilts her head slightly, her eyes catching yours. “So, if you’re not much of a drinker, what brings you here?”
You can’t help but smile, a small laugh escaping you despite yourself. “My friend thought I needed a break from studying. Dragged me out here against my better judgment.”
“Ah… Those your friends over there?” She nods her head in a certain direction, and you follow it slowly.
You see the group you came with, some scattered by the bar spilling drinks and laughing loudly, others by booths making out and shouting over the music and the rest dancing on the dance floor. There are others, who are gathered by the jukebox, laughing and trying to figure out how to play something other than the heavy bass thundering through the speakers. One of them is gesturing wildly, clearly tipsy, while another leans against the wall, scrolling through their phone like they’re already over it.
You shake your head and smile, “Yeah…”
“Loud bunch.”
“Sorry ‘bout that… finals are coming up soon this month, so...”
She gives you a smile and says, “No need to apologize, princess. I serve you, remember?”
Another one. Princess. You were sure you probably as red as a tomato now.
“I barely know half of them...” you say, taking sip of your new glass of water.
“So, what’s your usual crowd then?” Vi asked, her eyes completely on you as she grabs a glass to wipe it down with a rag.
You shrugs, “Textbooks?”
“Well, that’s no good.”
“So I’ve heard,” you reply dryly, taking another small sip of the water she’d poured for you.
She chuckles again as if she finds your answer amusing in a way she doesn’t quite want to admit.
“I’m not exactly big on crowds either,” she says, leaning a little closer as if sharing a secret.
You raise an eyebrow, gesturing subtly to the packed room around you, where people are practically spilling over each other in their rush to the bar. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”
Vi follows your gaze, scanning the chaotic scene with a small smirk tugging at her lips.
“Fair point,” she concedes, looking back at you.
You glance at her again, curious despite yourself. She’s standing still now, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her gaze is on you, not in the sharp, observant way she’s probably used to watching the bar, but softer—almost like she’s lost in thought.
Her smile is faint, but it’s there, tugging gently at her lips, and it’s different from the teasing smirks you’ve seen so far. This one feels more… personal, like she’s mulling something over and doesn’t quite realize she’s staring.
Your stomach twists, her attention making you acutely aware of every small movement you make—the way your fingers nervously trace the condensation on your glass, the way you’re trying not to shift under her gaze.
Finally, you can’t help but ask, your voice a touch quieter than you intend, “What?”
Vi blinks, like you’ve pulled her out of a daydream, and her soft smile turns into something a little sheepish.
“Sorry…” she says, before licking her lips. “Just, uh, a bit distracted.”
Her eyes linger on you for a moment longer, as if she’s debating saying something else. Absentmindedly, she tries to trace every feature of your face with your eyes, trying to remember it.
She wanted to say something else—anything… But, fuck. You were really pretty… and it was distracting her. She also decided that she really liked talking to you—even though it’s barely been ten minutes.
But then, from down the counter, someone shouts her name—a regular by the sound of it, slurring slightly as he waves an empty glass in the air.
“Vi! Another round over here!”
Vi doesn’t move right away. Her head turns slightly in the direction of the call, but her attention snaps back to you almost immediately. She hesitates, not wanting to go anywhere.
She shifts her weight, one hand resting on the counter, her body angled toward you even as she glances down the bar.
“Be right there!” she calls back. It’s almost begrudging.
Your lips twitch into a small smile, watching the tiny battle play out on her face.
“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” you say lightly, though there’s something a little playful in your tone.
Her eyes dart back to yours, and she huffs out a soft laugh, her hand running through her short pink hair.
“Yeah, I know,” she smiles and mutters, almost to herself, before adding softly, almost like a plea, “Call me if you need anything?”
You nod and she smiles. You watch her go, the faint blush on your cheeks lingering as you sip at the water she poured, the ice cold and refreshing.
For the first time tonight, you’re glad your friend dragged you out.
You cant stop thinking about her.
The library is silent except for the soft rustling of pages and the faint clicking of keyboards. It’s a lot more crowded here now, especially during this time of the year, and you’ve grown not to like it. You’re hunched over a stack of textbooks, a highlighter in your hand, staring down at a paragraph you’ve already reread three times. The words swim on the page, refusing to stick, as if your brain has decided it’s reached its limit.
You let out a frustrated sigh and lean back in your chair, dragging a hand through your hair. The fluorescent lights overhead feel harsher than usual, and the quiet tension of finals week is suffocating.
But it’s not just the studying—or the endless pressure of upcoming exams—that’s been messing with your head.
It’s Vi.
You’ve tried to focus, tried to immerse yourself in everything you could but every time your mind starts to settle, her face slips back in. The way her smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. The way her pink hair caught the light behind the bar. The low, teasing lilt of her voice when she called you pretty.
You groan softly, rubbing your temples. This is ridiculous. You barely know her. You’ve spent what—maybe an hour total in her presence? And yet, she’s managed to lodge herself into your thoughts so completely that it’s becoming a problem.
The highlighter in your hand falls to the desk with a muted thud, and you drop your head into your hands, your elbows resting on the textbook in front of you. You can still see the way she looked at you—softly, like she saw something in you that others hadn’t bothered to notice.
It’s infuriating, really. You’ve got finals to prepare for, and instead, your mind is full of half-replayed conversations and fleeting glimpses of pink hair, strong arms and tattoos.
The worst part? You can’t shake the feeling that she’s thinking about you, too.
It’s irrational—you know that. She’s probably forgotten all about you by now, busy serving countless other customers, flashing that same smirk at someone else.
But a part of you, buried beneath the layers of reason and logic you cling to, whispers otherwise.
You snap out of your thoughts and glance at the open book in front of you. The words blur together again, mocking your lack of focus.
With a frustrated exhale, you push the textbook aside and pull out your phone, the screen lighting up in your hand. You scroll aimlessly for a moment, debating whether you’re actually considering what your restless thoughts are urging you to do.
Should you go back? Would she even remember you?
You shake your head, trying to will away the temptation.
Finals. Study. Focus.
You tap your pen against your notebook, each click bouncing off the walls of the crowded library. It’s packed to the brim, filled with students just as desperate as you to cram as much information into their heads as possible before finals. Yet, instead of feeling motivated, all you can focus on is the cacophony—the whispered conversations that aren’t really whispers, the shuffling of papers, the faint tapping of keyboards, the occasional obnoxious laugh breaking the tension.
Your head throbs.
With a sharp sigh, you drop the pen onto the desk and lean back in your chair again, staring blankly at the high ceiling. You’ve been sitting here for hours, yet the number of notes you’ve managed to take is embarrassingly low. Nothing is sticking. You can’t focus.
It doesn’t help that your thoughts keep drifting to her.
To Vi.
You shake your head as if it’ll clear the image, but it doesn’t.
The noise of the library swells again, louder this time—a group of students a few tables down bursts into laughter, drawing glares from everyone around them. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help.
The dorm wasn’t any better. Earlier, when you’d tried to study there, the walls practically vibrated with the bass of someone’s speaker. The hallway had been filled with voices, laughter, and the unmistakable sound of another dorm party kicking off despite the looming threat of finals.
You’d lasted maybe twenty minutes before storming out, bag slung over your shoulder, hoping the library would be better.
It wasn’t.
You sit there for a moment, staring down at your open textbook and the mess of half-finished notes in front of you. The sheer impossibility of getting anything done right now feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.
Screw this.
You grab your things in one swift motion, shoving your notebook and pens into your bag with more force than necessary. The chair scrapes loudly against the floor as you stand, drawing a few annoyed glances your way. You ignore them, slinging your bad over your shoulder and walking out of the library without so much as a glance back.
The cold evening air hits you the second you step outside, sharp and bracing, but you welcome it.
You pause at the edge of the path, staring out at the quiet campus bathed in the glow of dim streetlights. You should go back to your dorm, try again, push through the noise.
But the very thought of that makes your stomach twist.
Instead, your feet carry you forward, down the path and out toward the street. You don’t have a destination in mind, but you already know where you’ll end up.
It’s not a conscious decision—it never is, really. You tell yourself you just need a break, some fresh air to clear your head. But the truth hums beneath the surface, undeniable.
You want to see her.
When your feet finally stop, the bar looms in front of you, the soft glow of its neon sign illuminating the damp pavement below. The night air is cool against your skin, a faint breeze carrying the quiet hum of traffic and chatter.
Your hands are shoved deep into the pockets of your jacket, fingers curling into the fabric as you linger just outside the door. You glance at your reflection in the window—a hoodie that hangs a little loose on your frame, jeans you’ve had for years, and shoes slightly scuffed from the walk here.
You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you’d thought to stop by your dorm first. Maybe throw on something a little prettier. But instead, your feet had brought you straight here, as if they knew something you didn’t.
It’s almost 9 p.m., and the bar looks alive even from the outside. You can always hear the faint hum of music seeping through the walls.
You hesitate. What are you even doing here? It’s not like you have a good excuse—no friends dragging you along this time, no group to blend into. You’re alone, standing in front of a bar where you might not even be remembered.
But the thought of her pulls at you, stronger than the nerves keeping your feet planted. You’d tried to shake her from your thoughts all week, telling yourself she was just a random bartender, someone you’d probably never see again. But it hadn’t worked. Every time you sat down to study, her face would slip into your mind.
Your chest tightens as you reach for the door, your hand hovering over the handle. What if she doesn’t remember you? Or worse—what if she does, and she thinks it’s weird that you’ve come back?
You shake your head, trying to push the doubts aside. You’re here now. You might as well step inside.
With a deep breath, you pull the door open and step into the warm, dimly lit space. The scent of alcohol and faint traces of perfume hit you first.
The bar is slightly less crowded than it had been the last time, but it still carries the same energy—low lights, muted colors, and a buzz of life that makes the air feel heavier than the world outside.
You glance toward the bar, your stomach twisting when you see her. Vi is behind the counter, her pink hair catching the soft light as she leans over to pass a drink to a customer. She straightens, her expression neutral as she scans the room, and then her eyes land on you.
For a split second, her face doesn’t change, and panic spikes in your chest. Maybe she doesn’t—
Then she smiles.
It’s subtle, but it’s there—a small, warm quirk of her lips that sends your nerves scattering in a hundred directions. She holds your gaze for just a moment before returning to what she’s doing, her hands moving fluidly to pour another drink.
You let out a shaky breath, your feet carrying you closer to the bar. You slide into one of the empty stools, trying to shake off the nervous energy buzzing under your skin. The cool wood of the counter feels solid beneath your palms as you rest your elbows on it, trying to make yourself look casual.
But it’s hard to relax with your pulse pounding so loudly in your ears. You glance around the room, looking for anything to distract you from the fact that she’s here.
You’re trying not to fidget with your fingers, not to bite the inside of your lip, not to seem like you’ve been thinking about this moment for days now—trying to shake the nerves that have settled into your bones. But it’s hard when you feel her presence just behind the bar.
It doesn’t take long before you feel her eyes on you.
You glance up just in time to see Vi, mid-conversation with another customer, glance over the counter at you. And in a split second, she’s finished what she’s saying to the customer, brushing past them with an ease.
She doesn’t even seem bothered by the fact that she’s walking away mid-conversation. It’s as if she’s already decided where she needs to be.
Your pulse quickens.
You watch her approach, the way she moves is confident, the soft hum of the music surrounding her as she gets closer. Her smile is almost shy this time, like she’s not entirely sure what to say after the last time you were here. But she doesn’t hesitate.
“I was wondering when I’d see you again,” she says as soon as she reaches you, her voice low, almost teasing, with just a hint of something more.
Her words catch you off guard for a second. You shift slightly on your stool, trying to keep your cool, but you can feel the heat creeping up your neck. Her gaze is steady, not flirtatious exactly, but certainly interested, like she’s been waiting for this moment as much as you have.
You clear your throat, and even though you try to sound casual, your voice betrays you.
“I didn’t really expect to be back so soon.” The words feel like a weak excuse even as you say them.
Vi chuckles softly, leaning just a little closer as she rests her hands on the counter, her gaze never leaving you. “Not really the type to stay away for long, huh?”
There’s that spark in her eyes again, that teasing warmth that makes you wonder if she’s deliberately making you squirm.
You roll your eyes, trying to hide the nervous flutter in your chest.
“I needed a break,” you explain quickly, looking away for a moment. “Studying was driving me crazy.”
You pull your bag closer to the bar, pretending to straighten it out, but your thoughts keep slipping back to her.
Vi’s smile softens a little as she studies you, her eyes tracing your face for a moment longer than necessary. She doesn’t seem in a rush, doesn’t try to fill the space with empty words or awkward small talk.
You swallow, suddenly aware of how much closer she’s gotten, how much she’s drawn you in. There’s an easy chemistry between you, something unspoken but undeniable.
“Well,” she adds, a teasing glint in her eye as she straightens back up, “What’s your drink of choice, princess?”
You almost forget how to breathe for a second at the sudden shift in the atmosphere, your heart racing again. You take a moment to collect yourself before replying, your voice just a little quieter than usual.
“Surprise me,” you say, the words coming out with a confidence you don’t entirely feel.
Vi’s smile deepens, her eyes flashing with something a little mischievous, “Think I can manage that.”
She decides on making something light and sweet—remembering that you didn’t drink that often.
You watch her as she begins to gather the ingredients for your drink, her hands moving expertly behind the bar. The soft clink of glass bottles and the gentle hiss of the tap. You barely even realize you’re fidgeting until you catch sight of her looking back at you, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Finals week started?” She asks.
You blink, momentarily caught off guard by the question. The thought of finals feels like a weight you’ve been trying to avoid all week. The textbooks, the endless hours of studying, the fact that you’re still not feeling ready for any of it—it all hits you again in that instant. But Vi’s gaze makes it hard to focus on anything else.
For a split second, you can feel it too—the awkwardness, the nerves, the slight flutter in your chest that feels completely out of place. It’s not just her usual flirtation. This feels different somehow. She’s not the smooth bartender effortlessly working the crowd, she’s… her. And it makes your heart skip in a way you’re trying to ignore.
“Yeah, it did,” you answer, your voice quieter than you intended. You rub the back of your neck, feeling a little out of place yourself. “It’s… been a nightmare. The library’s packed, the dorm’s loud—honestly, it’s like no one even remembers that we have to actually study for this stuff.”
She raises an eyebrow, her smile never quite fading but now tinged with something a little more… uncertain. Her gaze flits between you and the drinks in front of her, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s just waiting for something to happen.
“Seems like you’re trying to avoid it,” she says softly, her tone lighter but still holding that underlying curiosity. Her voice is almost shy now, like she’s letting down the tough-girl act just a little, and it feels natural. She looks at you again, this time a little less playful and more vulnerable.
You feel something stir inside of you at her words—maybe relief, maybe the sense that she’s giving you a little window into her own world.
“Yeah, kind of,” you admit, your gaze dropping to the counter as you fiddle with the edge of your glass. You take a breath, glancing back up at her, your tone playful but also a little softer than you meant.
She’s leaning slightly over the counter, her eyes scanning the room for a moment, as though looking for your friends. When she doesn’t find them, her gaze returns to you, a small quirk of her lips tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Here alone tonight?” she asks, her tone light and soft.
You feel a small flutter in your chest, a hint of nervousness bubbling up—was she genuinely interested?
“Yeah,” you say, a little unsure, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass. “My friends are… off somewhere else.”
Vi nods slowly, that small smile still playing on her lips, and for a second, you almost feel like she’s understanding you without needing you to say much at all. She’s always been so good at reading people, it seems.
“Well, lucky for you,” she says with a wink, her tone playful but sincere, “I’m here to keep you company, then. No need to be alone if you don’t want to be.”
She leans a little closer, her voice dropping just low enough that only you can hear.
“Not that I mind the company, either.”
Her words settle in your chest, warm and easy, and for a brief moment, it feels like everything else—the noise, the people, the pressure of exams—falls away. All that’s left is the gentle pull of her attention, the way she makes you feel like you’re the only one she wants to talk to tonight.
You can’t help but smile, your nerves starting to ease.
“I like that you’re here,” you say, a little quieter now, the honesty behind your words surprising even you.
Oh.
Vi swallows the tiny lump in her throat, ears reddening at your words.
“Me too,” she says softly, her eyes meeting yours.
And then the night stretches on, the sound of clinking glasses and lively chatter filling the air, but somehow, the noise feels distant.
Vi moves between you and the rest of the bar, always managing to return to you just as you start to think she’s too busy to notice. She steps away occasionally to serve drinks, her smile never fading even when the pressure of the crowd pulls her in different directions.
Every time she returns, though, she looks at you with that same look in her eye, making you feel like you’re the only person in the room who matters. You can tell that she’s working, but there’s an ease in the way she glances over at you, as though she’s intentionally carving out space to keep you company, to make sure you’re not left alone in the bustle of the bar.
As the crowd grows louder and the night wears on, Vi seems to sense that things are getting a little out of hand. The rush of orders starts picking up, and she glances over at Mylo, a colleague of hers you’ve seen around. With a quick wave, she calls him over.
You watch as Vi leans against the bar, her body language shifting just slightly.
“Hey, Mylo, could you cover the drinks for a bit?” she asked, her tone casual, but there’s something unspoken in the way she does it. Mylo gives her a knowing glance, then nods and steps in to take over, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
Vi doesn’t waste any time.
For the rest of the night, she stays close, always coming back to check on you between serving drinks, leaning against the bar whenever she has a spare moment. Mylo helps manage the crowd, but Vi is there, always making sure you’re okay, always drawing you back into the conversation.
There’s no rush, no pressure—just an easy flow between you two, and the more time you spend with her, the next time her eyes meet yours, the way she smiled, the more you realize that this is something you’ve been craving without even knowing it.
The night slips away quietly, and when you glance at the clock on the wall behind the bar, a wave of disappointment hits you.
It’s later than you thought. You hesitate for a moment, your fingers brushing the edge of your empty glass, and then you finally say it, though it’s not what you want to say at all.
“I should, uh… get going,” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intended. You already know you’ll regret it—regret leaving this place, leaving her.
Vi’s smile falters just a little, her eyes quickly flicking to the clock too, and you see the shift on her face, like she’s come to the same realization. There’s a brief, almost imperceptible pause between the two of you as the world around you continues on, but time seems to slow as she takes a breath.
“I… didn’t realize it was that late either,” she says, her tone softer now. And for a brief second, you can almost feel the space between you close in, like neither of you really wants to say goodbye.
Then, without skipping a beat, Vi’s voice pulls you back into the present.
“Hey,” she starts firmly, like she’s made up her mind about something. “Let me walk you back.”
You blink at her, the suggestion catching you off guard. You hadn’t expected her to offer—hadn’t thought she’d even consider it. And though a little part of you wants to say yes immediately, another part of you, the shyer, more self-conscious part, hesitates.
“I don’t want to put you out,” you say quickly, though you’re not entirely sure why you feel so shy all of a sudden. “Besides, you’re working.”
It’s a simple thing, after all, a walk.
But you’d be even more alone. With her. And although that made you excited, it made you even more nervous.
Vi doesn’t give you the chance to second-guess yourself. Her smile returns, and there’s a spark of something playful in her eyes.
“It’s no trouble,” she says, her tone light but insistent. “I’m not going to let you walk back alone at this time. I don’t think I’d be able to focus without knowing you got home safe, so...”
Before you can protest again, she turns to Mylo, who’s tending to the growing crowd at the far end of the bar.
“Hey, Mylo!” she calls out, her voice carrying just enough over the noise to catch his attention. “I’m taking my break now. Be back in a bit.”
Mylo doesn’t even look up from his work, just nods in acknowledgment. “Alright, Vi,” he calls back, and you catch the playful undertone in his voice. It’s clear he knows exactly what’s going on.
Not wasting any more time, Vi grabs her jacket from behind the bar. She slips it on ace doesn’t look back at you to see if you’re ready; she just turns, giving you that soft, inviting smile.
“C’mon,” she says, her voice low and gentle, like she’s pulling you into something that feels a little outside of the ordinary, but in the best way possible.
Her words make you pause, but only for a moment. You look at her—really look at her—and something about the way she’s standing there, waiting, makes your hesitation dissolve. The warmth in her smile settles in your chest, and for the first time in a while, you realize you don’t mind the idea of the night stretching out just a little longer.
You nod, a soft smile curling at your lips.
“Okay,” you say, your voice more confident than it was a second ago.
Vi grins.
Without another word, she starts walking toward the door, holding it open for you, and you follow her out into the cold night air. The city seems quieter now, the streets not as busy, and as the two of you step into the night, the world feels a little smaller, a little more intimate—just the two of you, alone together for the walk.
You can’t help but feel your heart race just a little, but in the best possible way.
The walk to your dorm is slower than you expect, almost as if neither of you wants to rush through it. The night air is cold, the streetlights casting soft pools of light on the sidewalk. The hum of distant traffic fades into the background as you walk side by side, your pace matching each other’s, no one in a hurry.
You’re not sure what it is, but something about the silence between you feels comfortable—like there’s no pressure, just two people walking together. Vi’s steps are easy, casual, but every so often, she glances at you from the corner of her eye, as though she’s watching you without even realizing it. It’s subtle, but you catch her gaze a few times, and each time, she looks away just a fraction too late, as if she was lost in thought.
You can’t help but notice it, how her eyes linger on you, how her attention feels a little more intense than you’re used to, but it’s not uncomfortable. No, it’s the opposite, actually—it feels like she’s admiring something in you, and the idea makes your stomach flutter in a way you can’t quite explain.
Vi keeps most of the conversation light at first, teasing you about how you managed to get through the day without completely falling apart under the weight of finals. But soon enough, the banter turns into something more genuine, more personal, and you find yourself sharing little details about your life.
Vi, on the other hand, seems to enjoy telling you bits and pieces about herself. She talks about the things she’s passionate about—how bartending isn’t just a job for her, but something that gives her a connection to people and to her dad especially, how she loves the way a good drink can change someone’s mood, make them feel more at ease. She tells you about her favorite spots in the city, the places she goes when she wants to unwind or just take a break from the noise.
She mentions that she has a little sister—one that she’s so proud of with how smart she is. She has a scholarship at some other university a pretty far from here, and you can tell Vi misses her dearly.
For the entire way, Vi doesn’t stop glancing at you.
It’s soft and subtle, but you can see it, feel it—the way her eyes linger on you, tracing the lines of your face in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out.
And for the first time in a while, you don’t mind being the center of someone’s attention. You can’t help but wonder if, in some small way, she feels the same as you.
“So, your dorm’s just up ahead, right?” Vi says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Her voice is low, and there’s a hint of something soft in it. You realize, in that moment, that this walk has felt… different.
“Yeah, just a couple more blocks,” you reply, your voice a little quieter now, feeling like the night has already given you more than you expected.
Eventually, the two of you reach the entrance of your building. It was an apartment style dorm, sitting just a few miles away from campus.
You stop for a moment, your feet lingering on the sidewalk as you take a small breath, suddenly feeling reluctant.
You don’t want it to end—not just yet.
But before you can say anything, the loud thump of music reaches your ears, coming from one of the floors above. Vi’s eyes flick up toward the building, and her brow furrows slightly as she notices the source of the noise.
“Guess the party’s already in full swing,” she murmurs, a bit of a wry smile tugging at her lips, but there’s something in her tone that’s a little amused.
“Yeah. The usual,” you say, your voice tinged with mild exasperation. You chuckle softly, rubbing the back of your neck, feeling a little embarrassed. “They don’t really care if it’s late… It can be quiet sometimes… but on rare occasions.”
Vi glances up at the building, the loud music still spilling out from one of the floors. She hesitates for a moment, then looks back at you.
“You know, uh, the bar doesn’t… open until six… I mean, the lounge opens at ten, but… no one really comes around that time,” she says, her voice quieter now, as if the suggestion she’s about to make is somehow more personal.
She glances at you again, her eyes flickering with tiny hint of nervousness.
“You could, uh, come earlier if you want some quiet… I’ll be there.”
You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t expected her to offer her own space at all. The bar, of all places.
You feel a warmth spread through you at the thought, a pull you hadn’t expected. Something about it makes your heart race a little faster, and you find yourself hesitating, uncertain if you should take the leap.
It was kind of a lousy excuse, Vi thought, but at least she’d get to see you again, instead of waiting all week to see if you’d stop by.
Though she knew she probably should’ve just asked you out on a date like a normal person, but… maybe she’d be able to see more of you this way.
“Vi, I—” you start, but you don’t really know what to say.
“You don’t have to,” she adds quickly, her voice gentle, as if she’s afraid to push too hard. “But if you’re looking for a place to study, it’s quiet in the mornings. And I promise not to be in your way. You don’t have to stay long or anything—just… if you want to, I’m there. And we could talk more, or just… not.”
The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard, and you feel a small tug at your chest.
You glance at her, meeting her eyes for just a moment, and that’s all it takes. Despite the swirl of thoughts in your head, you find yourself nodding.
“Okay,” you say, your voice steady now, though there’s a trace of something soft beneath it. “I’d really like that.”
You watch as her smile brightens, a little relieved and a little pleased, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything, she just nods.
Vi pauses just as she’s about to turn away, a hesitant look crossing her face. For a moment, she seems to be second-guessing herself, like she’s trying to figure out the best way to say something without overstepping. Then, with a slight sheepishness that’s almost endearing, she glances back at you, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly.
“Oh, shit, I-I should probably give you my number… you know, in case I’m not there or anything,” she says, her voice a little softer, a little more self-conscious than usual. Her fingers nervously tug at the hem of her jacket, and her eyes flicker away briefly.
You can’t help but smile at the way she’s acting—this confident, capable bartender who, just moments ago, had been so cool and smooth, now hesitating as if she’s unsure whether she’s overstepping by asking for your number.
You reach for your phone, feeling a small rush of warmth in your chest.
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” you say, your voice light but warm, trying to make her feel at ease.
You quickly unlock your phone and pass it to her, offering a small, reassuring smile.
Vi’s fingers brush against yours as she takes your phone, and for a second, the touch lingers. She types in her number quickly, and you catch the faintest flicker of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. She hands the phone back to you after saving her contact information and you glance down at the screen.
violet :)
“Done,” she says, her voice light again. “Just… in case you need to reach me or anything…”
Vi pulls out her phone, her fingers slightly fumbling as she unlocks it. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and she gives you a small, almost nervous smile. You type your number into her phone in return, and when you hand it back, you make sure your fingers brush against hers just a little longer than necessary. She smiles softly when she gets her phone back, seeing the small heart you put next to your name.
“Thank you, Vi,” you say softly, feeling a little bolder now.
She grins, the playful glint in her eyes back now, “Text me… whenever.”
She lingers, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, the edges of her smile bright but just a little tight, like she’s holding something back. Her eyes meet yours, warm and soft, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.
You notice the way her gaze flickers, almost imperceptibly, down to your lips. It’s quick, barely a second, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Your heart thuds in your chest, and you wonder if she realizes how obvious she is—or maybe she doesn’t care. Either way, her attention makes your stomach flip in a way you’re not entirely prepared for.
“I should…” she begins, her voice quiet and almost reluctant. She shifts on her feet, looking down for a moment before glancing back up at you. She hesitates, like she’s searching for a reason to stay, even though she knows she can’t. “…get back to work.”
Her words are practical, but the way she says them—soft and almost regretful—makes it clear she doesn’t really want to leave.
She’s stalling, and you can tell.
For once, Vi doesn’t have that confidence she carries behind the bar. Right now, she just looks… a little unsure. A little vulnerable.
“Goodnight,” you say softly, the words gentle but carrying more weight than you intended.
Her smile widens, though it’s still tight-lipped, and she nods, her hands still buried in her jacket pockets.
“Yeah… goodnight, princess,” she echoes, her voice just above a whisper. She lingers for another second, her gaze sweeping over your face before she finally steps back.
The sound of her boots on the pavement fades as she turns and walks away, heading back down the street toward the bar.
As she disappears into the distance, you catch yourself glancing at your phone, her number now saved there, and you wonder how long you’ll be able to resist texting her. The night air feels colder without her, but the warmth she left behind lingers all the same.
Truth be told, Vi isn’t usually the one to open the bar.
That’s Mylo’s job, and it’s been that way for as long as she can remember. Surprisingly, he’s the early bird, arriving just maybe thirty before ten—always grumbling about it but showing up on time regardless, keys jangling as he flips on the lights and starts the long process of getting the place ready. It’s quiet in the morning, and it’s practically empty until the sun starts to set.
Vi’s shift doesn’t typically start until later in the evening, right when the crowd begins to build, when the air gets thick with chatter and the clink of glass. That’s her time, where she thrives: loud music, fast drinks, and tiny bit of chaos.
But as soon as Vi gets back to work that night after walking you to you back, something shifts. She heads straight behind the bar, sets her jacket down with a quickly, and finds Mylo leaning against the counter, lazily wiping down the counter like he always does. He glances up at her, one brow quirked, clearly ready to make some smart comment about her lateness and tease her about that little crush she has on you.
But before he can get a word out, she cuts him off.
“I’m opening from now on,” she says flatly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Mylo freezes mid-motion, the rag in his hand hovering over the counter. He stares at her for a moment, like he’s not sure he heard her right.
“What?” he says finally, his tone incredulous. “Since when do you wanna deal with the morning grind? You hate opening.”
“Since now,” Vi snaps, her tone sharp like she’s already decided and doesn’t care for an explanation.
Mylo narrows his eyes, leaning against the bar with a skeptical look. “You’re serious? You, of all people, wanna deal with the dead hours?”
“Yeah,” Vi says simply, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and beginning to organize the counter with quick, efficient movements. “It’s not a big deal.”
Mylo snorts, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “It is for you. You hate the quiet. You told me that yourself. Even Claggor hates the quiet.”
Vi doesn’t answer right away.
She busies herself adjusting the liquor bottles, her back turned to him as she forces herself not to think about why she’s doing this—or more accurately, who she’s doing this for. But her thoughts betray her anyway, drifting back to the way you’d looked at her tonight, soft and unsure but trusting, the way you’d smiled at her when she offered you the bar as a place to get away. The memory makes something tighten in her chest.
She finally turns back to Mylo, her face composed, her tone even.
“Just need a change of pace,” she says with a shrug, though even she knows it’s not convincing. “Besides, you could use the extra sleep.”
Mylo stares at her for another beat and squints his eyes, clearly unconvinced but too tired to argue.
“Is this about that girl you were talking with earlier?”
“No,” Vi said all too quickly, but she knows she couldn’t keep up the lie against Mylo for too long. “Maybe… Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just ask her out? Looked like she liked you enough. Plus—she literally came back to see you—“
“Just—Let me have this. If it goes sour, you can have all the free drinks you want.”
“Fine,” he says, throwing his hands up in defeat. “It’s your funeral. Just don’t come crying to me when you’re stuck listening to the same three jazz songs we have on Vander’s old jukebox.”
Vi smirks, but it’s faint, her mind already elsewhere. “Noted.”
The truth is, she doesn’t care about the mornings or the hassle of opening. All she cares about is the chance that you might show up again, walking into the bar in the early hours, looking for a place to escape the noise.
And if that means opening the doors herself, sitting in silence for a couple hours, and putting up with Mylo’s grumbling, so be it.
She doesn’t tell him any of this, though. She just gets back to work, excited for the next time she might see you.
The sunlight filters in through the thin curtains of your dorm room, soft and golden, warming your skin as you slowly wake. Your eyes blink open, the haze of sleep still clinging to you, and for a moment, you simply lie there, staring up at the ceiling.
Then, your mind drifts back to the night before.
Vi… again.
The thought of her hits you like a spark, and you feel a smile tug at your lips before you can stop it. Your chest tightens slightly, but not unpleasantly, just enough to make you feel warm all over.
Still smiling, you roll onto your side, glancing at your phone on the nightstand. The thought of texting her had crossed your mind the second you got back to your room last night, but you hadn’t been sure if you should. What would you even say?
Now, as the morning stretches ahead of you, you find yourself staring at your phone again, the nervous energy in your chest making it hard to breathe.
You pick it up, the screen lighting up instantly. And there it is.
A small notification sits at the top of your screen.
“1 new message from violet :)”
Your heart jumps, and your thumb hovers over the notification for just a second before you tap it, unable to wait any longer. The message opens, and your breath catches when you see it.
not to brag, but it’s very quiet this morning. open invitation ;)
Attached is a picture of the bar. The room is empty, save for the neat rows of chairs and the warm light spilling in from the windows. The space looks so different from the lively, chaotic energy you’d seen before—calm, inviting, almost serene. But what catches your eye most is the subtle detail in the photo: her black jacket draped over the back of one of the chairs in the corner, and a mug sitting on the counter.
She’s there, waiting.
Your heart does a little flip, and you bite your lip, staring at the message. The cheeky little smirk emoji at the end feels so quintessentially Vi, and you can almost hear the teasing lilt in her voice as you read the words again.
You’re not sure how long you sit there, staring at your phone, trying to decide how to respond. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, typing and deleting messages you’re too nervous to send. Finally, you settle on something simple, something safe.
all that space for me?
You hit send before you can overthink it, your chest fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves. Almost immediately, the little bubble indicating she’s typing pops up, and your stomach flips again.
you get special treatment, what can i say?
Her reply comes with another photo—this time, a close-up of her coffee mug on the counter, a little steam curling up from the top. In the background, you can see her hand resting on the bar, the edge of a tattoo peeking out from her wrist. It’s casual, but the fact that she took the time to send it makes your cheeks flush.
You can’t help but smile again, your heart racing as you stare at the screen. The morning, which had started so quietly, now feels electric, buzzing with the possibility of seeing her again. And as you type out your next reply, you can’t help but wonder where this might lead—and how you’ve somehow stumbled into something that already feels so much more than you expected.
You barely even remember the process of getting ready.
It was all a blur of rushing to find something cute, definitely cuter than the night before yet comfortable, sifting through your limited wardrobe for something that felt right. Even though the chill of winter was biting at the edges of the morning, you chose an outfit—layered up enough to keep warm, but nice enough to make you feel put together. You’d even spent a little more time on your hair, fixing it neatly just for Vi to see.
Now, standing in front of the bar, the nerves hit you all at once.
The quiet street around you makes the moment feel even more amplified. You glance at the entrance, the black-painted door that suddenly feels much taller, more imposing, than it had before. Your heart is pounding in your chest, the bag full of textbooks and notes hanging heavy at your side, reminding you of the excuse you gave yourself for coming here.
It’s just a quiet place to study, you tell yourself for the hundredth time, though you know it’s only half the truth.
The other half is much more difficult to admit—that you’re here for her. That something about Vi has been stuck in your head ever since she walked you home, her warm, smooth voice, the way her blue eyes lingered on you. She made your entire body flutter and you can’t help but want more of it.
You take a deep breath, clutching the strap of your bag tightly, and push the door open. The soft chime of the bell above the frame jingles lightly, and you step inside, immediately greeted by the sound of soft jazz playing in the background. The bar looks just like it had in the photo—empty, calm, and warm, bathed in the golden glow of lights reflecting off the polished surfaces.
Your eyes scan the room, and there she is.
Vi stands behind the bar, her jacket from earlier now draped over a nearby stool. She’s pouring herself a cup of coffee, her back to you at first, but as the door closes behind you, she glances over her shoulder. The moment she sees you, her face lights up with that easy smile, the one that makes your chest flutter in ways you’re not quite ready to deal with.
“Look who it is,” she says, setting her mug down and leaning casually against the counter. She folds her arms across her chest, giving you an appraising look. “Was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”
You step forward, trying to steady your breathing as you approach the bar. “Well,” you say, your voice soft but steady, “that picture you sent was pretty convincing. Had to check it out for myself.”
Vi’s smile widens, and she gestures to the empty space around you. “Guess you came to the right place, huh? It doesn’t get much quieter than this.”
You nod, trying not to fidget as you sling your bag onto one of the stools. “Yeah. Plus, you did say I’d get special treatment.”
Vi chuckles at that, her voice low and warm, “I did, didn’t I?”
She leans forward slightly, resting her elbows on the counter as she watches you unpack a few of your books.
“Something like that,” you mumble, flipping open a notebook and trying not to let her attention distract you too much. It’s easier said than done, though, especially when you feel her eyes on you, warm and curious, like she’s genuinely interested in every little thing you do.
Vi gestures toward your bag with a playful grin. “Didn’t know you’d bring your entire library with you.”
“It’s called being prepared.”
She smirks at that, but as you settle into your work, she finds herself falling quiet. Her gaze lingers on you as she leans back slightly, folding her arms.
“Go ahead and start. I’ll be here if you need anything,” she says kindly, a smile on her face that made your stomach flutter.
You thank her with a smile and a nod and the only thing Vi can think about is how cute you are.
In just a couple of minutes, you’ve focused up, skimming through a page of dense text, your brow furrowed in concentration, and Vi can’t help but notice the way your nose scrunches just a little when you hit something particularly complicated.
It’s… endearing.
She doesn’t mean to stare. Really, she doesn’t.
The jazz music playing softly in the background seems to fade into white noise as Vi lets herself get lost in the little details of you. The slope of your shoulders, the way your hair falls to the side when you tilt your head, the faint flush in your cheeks that she wonders—hopes—might have something to do with her.
She doesn’t even realize she’s staring until Mylo’s voice echoes in her head: You’re being so obvious, Vi.
She clears her throat, tearing her gaze away and reaching for the coffee mug she’d left on the counter. As she takes a sip, she glances back at you, this time trying to keep her interest a little more subtle.
You catch her staring just as you look up from your book, your eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. Vi freezes, caught, and you tilt your head slightly, raising an eyebrow.
“What?”
She blinks, quickly shaking her head and giving you a grin that’s a little too casual.
“Nothing,” she says, her tone light, though her ears flush faintly.
Then she looks down at her mug, then back up at you. She watches you as you shyly turned away, trying to mask the way your cheeks reddened under her stare. With a soft chuckle under her breath, she moves towards the edge of the bar, finally deciding to make you a cup of coffee.
She moves quietly as she works the espresso machine. The bar is silent except for the faint hum of the machine, the relaxing jazz playing in the background, and the occasional sound of you turning your pages, but her focus isn’t entirely on what she’s doing.
Instead, it keeps drifting to you. Sitting there, head bowed over your notes, and Vi can’t help but notice how different you look today compared to the last time she saw you.
You’re dressed a little nicer today—nothing too flashy, just enough that she can tell you put some thought into it. She likes it. She really likes it.
Maybe it’s the way your sweater hugs your frame a little more snugly, or how your jeans look perfectly paired with your boots. Or maybe it’s just the fact that everything about you feels intentional, like you dressed up… just for her.
Either way, it’s distracting her in the best way possible. She shakes her head slightly, trying to focus on the task at hand, but the thought keeps nudging its way back in: So pretty.
She glances at you as she pours the espresso shot into the cup, the deep brown liquid swirling into the mug. You’re chewing on the cap of a pen, your brow furrowed in concentration, and Vi feels a faint, involuntary smile tug at the corners of her mouth.
She watches closely. Too closely. She watches your lips shamelessly, wrapping your lips around the cylinder shape, biting softly on that pen, and… god, you’re just… something else.
Vi shakes her head and tries to throw the thought out of the window. It’s far too early to be thinking about you like… that.
The hot water follows, and before she knows it, the americano is ready. She sets it on the counter softly, barely making a sound, and steps back to admire her handiwork—not the coffee, but you. And maybe she’d never admit it out loud, but she could probably watch you for hours.
When you finally notice the mug in front of you, you blink up at her with a smile, a little startled.
Vi shrugs, leaning one elbow on the counter, her grin casual but her gaze lingering. “Coffee. Figured you could use it.”
Your lips quirk up slightly at her teasing, but there’s something shy in the way you glance down at the mug, your fingers brushing the edge of it.
“Thank you,” you mumble shyly, almost under your breath.
“No problem, princess.” Vi leans back, her hands sliding into her pockets as she studies you for a moment longer. You’re even prettier up close, she thinks.
After a couple minutes, Vi busies herself cleaning the counter, though her eyes flick back to you more often than she means them to. There’s something about you today that feels different… And if she’s being honest with herself, it’s driving her a little crazy—in a good way.
When Vi had her back turned for a moment, adjusting the bottles on the shelf behind the bar, it was your turn to take the opportunity.
Your eyes wandered before you could stop yourself, taking her in as she worked. She moved smoothly, easy, like she’d done this a thousand times before—and maybe she had—but it didn’t make the sight any less captivating.
You’d been trying to focus on your notes, scribbling little reminders in the margins or flipping pages as if you were actually absorbing the words.
But who were you kidding? You couldn’t concentrate. Not when Vi was right there.
Your gaze lingered on her arms first, toned and inked, muscles flexing just enough with every movement. The way she reached up to straighten a bottle, her fingers long and strong, made your thoughts blur and stutter.
And then there was her profile—the sharp angle of her jawline, the way her asymmetrical lips curved faintly even when she wasn’t smiling. That tiny quirk, one side of her top lip arched slightly higher than the other, was unfairly charming. It made her look like she was always on the edge of smirking, always holding back some witty comment.
When she turned slightly, moving to wipe down the counter again, you quickly dropped your eyes back to your notebook, pretending to read a passage you hadn’t actually taken in.
But the distraction didn’t last long. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her pick up a glass, her hands moving over it in smooth, practiced motions as she polished it to perfection. Her forearms flexed again just slightly, and you caught yourself staring again, your thoughts hazy and full of her.
Every time you looked up, there was something new to notice—the way her brows furrowed just a little when she was focused, the way her tattoos seemed to tell a story you desperately wanted to know. You liked the way her hair fell just a little out of place when she leaned forward, the way her shirt clung to her broad shoulders and the defined curve of her biceps.
You liked the way she moved, so sure of herself yet entirely unaware of just how mesmerizing she was to watch.
It was distracting, sure, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. If anything, you welcomed it.
It didn’t take long for the mornings at the bar to become your new routine.
Vi would open promptly at ten in the morning, and you’d stroll in not long after, bundled up in a jacket, a bag full of textbooks and notebooks slung over your shoulder. She’d always greet you with that soft, lopsided smile of hers, already moving to make you coffee before you even asked.
“Morning, princess,” she’d say, setting the mug in front of you with a little flourish, and you’d roll your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips every time.
You’d settle into your usual spot, unpack your books, and get to work while Vi busied herself behind the counter.
She was always within view, her quiet presence oddly comforting as you flipped through pages and scribbled notes. And she didn’t hover, not exactly, but you knew she kept an eye on you. She’d pause her cleaning or organizing to glance over, catching little glimpses of your concentrated frown or the way you tucked your hair behind your ear absentmindedly.
For you, the quiet space was perfect, and Vi’s company made it even better.
You studied through the morning, your head bent over your books, easily working and concentrating with the quiet surroundings, before eventually packing up to head to your exams in the afternoon.
One morning, though, exhaustion finally caught up with you. You’d been cramming for a couple days, running on little sleep, and your body decided it couldn’t keep up anymore.
Vi noticed you were quieter than usual, your head drooping slightly as you flipped through your notes. She’d thought about saying something but didn’t want to disturb you.
When she looked over again a few minutes later, though, she saw you slumped forward on the counter, your head resting against an open textbook. Your breathing was slow and even, your face pressed against the pages, looking completely at peace.
Vi froze for a moment, her chest tightening in a way she couldn’t quite explain. You looked… adorable, she thought, almost too perfect in that quiet, vulnerable moment. She wiped her hands on a towel absentmindedly, then glanced around the empty bar.
Unable to help herself, she moved from behind the counter and slid into the stool beside you, making sure to be quiet. She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the counter as she studied you.
The soft rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your lashes fluttered just slightly in your sleep, the curve of your lips as they parted ever so slightly—it all made her heart ache in the strangest way.
For a few long minutes, she just sat there, her head tilted slightly, watching you like she was trying to memorize every detail. She thought about waking you up, but part of her didn’t want to. You looked too peaceful, and honestly, she liked having this moment to herself.
Vi let out a soft breath, her lips curving into a small smile.
“Pretty,” she murmured under her breath, the words barely audible even to herself.
When finals week ended, you should’ve felt relief.
You’d survived the late nights, the endless notes, the last-minute cramming. But as you walked back to your apartment after your last exam, all you could feel was a gnawing worry sitting heavy in your chest.
Without exams to study for, without needing the quiet escape of the bar in the mornings, what excuse would you have to see Vi now?
Could you just… show up?
Vi had told you plenty of times that you were welcome there whenever. But it felt different now, like you were losing the one solid reason you had to sit in that quiet space while Vi worked behind the bar.
The thought made you slow your steps, your bag of textbooks feeling heavier than it had all week.
You’d fallen into a rhythm with her—those soft, peaceful mornings where she’d make you coffee without asking, tease you gently when you got too absorbed in your books, and being in her presence made you feel more grounded than you’d ever been.
Now that the routine was gone, you weren’t sure where that left you.
You tossed your bag onto your bed and flopped down beside it, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe I’ll still go to the bar tomorrow morning, you thought, trying to reassure yourself. But doubt crept in immediately. Would she think it was strange if you kept coming back without a reason? Would it seem like you were lingering too much, too long?
You rolled over, burying your face in the pillow as the worry churned in your mind. You couldn’t deny how much you liked being around her—how much you liked… well, her. The idea of not seeing her felt almost unbearable.
With a groan, you sat up and pulled your phone from your pocket. You stared at the screen, thumb hovering over Vi’s contact name.
You’d only messaged a few times before—mostly her checking in, asking if you’d made it back to your apartment safely. The thought of starting a conversation now made your stomach twist nervously.
But you wanted to see her. Needed to, even.
You tapped out a message and then erased it.
Then another.
Then erased that too.
What were you supposed to say? Hey, finals are over, but can I still come to the bar and stare at you for hours like a hopeless idiot? Stupid.
Finally, you set your phone down with a sigh, running your hands through your hair. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe she was thinking about you too, wondering if she’d still get to see you now that finals week was done.
But for a while, you stayed away.
Not because you didn’t want to go back—you wanted to more than anything—but the thought of walking into that bar now made your chest tighten with nerves.
The thought embarrassed you, enough that you buried yourself in other things—laundry, tidying your dorm, even a quick grocery run you didn’t really need. Anything to avoid confronting the growing ache in your chest that whispered how much you missed her already.
You told yourself you’d go tomorrow. Then tomorrow came, and you put it off again.
But those days dragged.
The emptiness of your mornings felt heavier than you expected, and the thought of Vi kept slipping into your mind no matter how hard you tried to focus on anything else.
Here, it felt hollow, like something was missing. And you knew exactly what it was.
By the second night, you were pacing your room, staring at your phone every few minutes, wondering if you should just message her. You groaned at yourself, flopping onto your bed and tossing your phone to the side.
It was ridiculous. You wanted to see her. You liked seeing her. So why was it so hard to just show up?
It was the knock on your door that snapped you out of your restless thoughts. You opened it to find Maddie standing there, already halfway dressed up, her hair curled and makeup done. She grinned at you, that mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned against the doorframe.
“Get dressed,” she said without preamble. “We’re celebrating. We deserve to let loose a little.”
You hesitated for half a second, your mind immediately jumping to Vi and that bar. “Where exactly are we going?”
Maddie smirked. “The Last Drop, obviously.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to play it cool, shrugging like you didn’t care either way. “Oh, back there again?”
“Hell yeah,” she said, already pushing her way into your dorm. “C’mon, don’t make me drag you. Get dressed. No excuses.”
For the first time in two days, you felt a rush of anticipation—nerves, yes, but excitement too. You couldn’t deny it anymore. You wanted to see Vi.
And maybe going with Maddie and the others would make it easier. Less pressure, less obvious that you were showing up just to see her.
So you jumped at the opportunity, rifling through your closet while Maddie lounged on your bed, offering unhelpful commentary about your choices. Eventually, you settled on something nice—a pretty dress, stockings, a coat to match.
“You clean up well,” Maddie teased as you slipped on your shoes.
You flushed, ignoring her as you grabbed your bag and jacket. It was cold outside, but you’d still made an effort—a bit of mascara, a touch of lipstick, enough to feel put-together.
But as you walked toward the bar, the nerves came creeping back.
The neon sign of the bar glowed in the distance, and your chest tightened as you stepped closer. The thought of seeing Vi again made your heart race, but you shoved the nerves down.
As soon as you stepped through the door of the bar, you could feel the atmosphere shift. It was quieter tonight, but still filled with the familiar hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the low buzz of the jukebox in the corner.
Your eyes automatically darted to the bar, hoping—no, praying—that you might catch sight of her.
And then Maddie’s voice broke through your thoughts, loud and unmistakable.
“Hey, over here!”
You turned to see her waving enthusiastically at a booth toward the back of the bar. A few of her friends were already there, but what caught your attention wasn’t a group. It was the other two people sitting at the table, one of them leaning back with a casual air, a drink in hand, the other staring at you like they were expecting you.
You froze for a moment, your heart sinking. Your gaze flickered between Maddie and the table, noticing her bright, mischievous smile. She’d set you up.
You forced a smile, suddenly feeling out of place. “Uh, Maddie…?”
Your stomach dropped. A double date?
“This is Chris,” she interrupted, pointing at the guy sitting next to you. He smiled widely, practically leaning over the table as he extended his hand.
You hesitated for a moment, still processing the situation. “Uh… hi.”
“We thought you two would hit it off,” Maddie added, as though she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on you.
“Yeah, you know, I take Professor Talis’ class, right?” Chris said, his voice a little too eager. “We’ve had a couple of group discussions before.”
You offered a polite smile, not quite sure what to make of him. You weren’t even sure how to respond to the whole situation.
Was this supposed to be a date? You’d come to the bar to see Vi—not this.
You glanced around, your eyes scanning the familiar faces behind the bar, hoping to see her. And there, at the counter, you finally spotted her.
Vi.
Chris kept talking, his voice a constant buzz in the background as you tried to nod politely, throwing in an occasional “mhm” or “yeah” just to keep the conversation moving.
But your attention wasn’t on him. It wasn’t on anything other than Vi.
You saw her again, and this time, it wasn’t a subtle glance. Vi had noticed you, her gaze locking onto you from across the room. Her eyes moved briefly over your face, taking you in, before they shifted downward—her gaze narrowing slightly as she looked at Chris, who was still talking to you like everything was normal.
Your breath caught in your throat when you saw her brow furrow, just enough to let you know she was confused.
There was something in the way she looked at you, something almost possessive, like she couldn’t quite figure out what was going on but she knew for a fact that she didn’t like it. She stood still for a moment, fingers wrapped around the edge a glass as she studied you.
For a second, you wondered if it was just your imagination, but then it clicked. Vi was jealous.
You hadn’t noticed before, but now you saw the little tension in her posture, the way her lips pressed together just slightly, the way her gaze flicked back to you every time he leaned in a little too close.
Chris, oblivious to well… everything, kept talking, his voice rising a little as he continued to try and make small talk.
You had no idea what he’d said because all you could hear was the beat of your heart in your ears, and the undeniable pull of Vi’s gaze on you. It was like she was silently challenging you, wanting to see what you’d do.
You glanced back over to Vi, who was still watching you, but now she was pretending to be busy with something—towels, or glassware, or whatever it was that could distract her from the situation.
You saw her glance down at her phone for a second, and you could almost feel her trying to decide whether or not to come over, to approach you, to do something to get your attention.
But instead of doing that, she lingered behind the bar, still looking at you—her expression unreadable now. And as much as you tried to focus on the conversation in front of you, your mind kept drifting back to her. You didn’t care about him anymore. You didn’t care about anything except the way Vi looked at you just now.
Your eyes slid back to Vi, and this time, you didn’t look away. You didn’t try to hide how you felt.
On the other side of the room, Vi’s eyes were locked on you, even though she tried to focus on the tasks in front of her.
She couldn’t help herself, a sense of possessiveness building in her chest. She wondered if you had dressed up like that for him. The guy you’d been sitting with, the one talking a mile a minute, clearly trying to impress you.
Vi’s stomach twisted, and she found herself gripping the counter a little too tightly as she watched you.
God, you looked so good. Vi’s chest tightened at the thought. She tried to focus on cleaning the counter in front of her, but the image of you with him—of you dressed up for him—kept invading her mind.
She wanted it to be her you were dressed up for. She wanted it to be her who got your attention, who you couldn’t stop thinking about.
She couldn’t do this.
She had to look away, had to force herself to breathe, because it was all getting too much.
With a frustrated sigh, Vi wiped her hands on a towel and excused herself, slipping through the back of the bar and into the staff area. She didn’t care if anyone noticed. She just had to get out of there.
She slammed the door behind her, pressing her back against it as she took a deep breath. Her heart was racing, and her mind was spinning. She had no idea what this was, what you were doing to her.
But the thought of you with someone else, the thought of you not being hers, made her ache in a way she wasn’t ready for.
She rubbed her face with both hands, trying to shake the frustration from her body. She tried to steady herself, taking in a few deep breaths as she stared at the floor. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way. She wasn’t supposed to be jealous.
But she wanted you.
And the more she thought about it, the clearer it became.
Vi’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the knock on the staff room door.
She’d half expected it to be Mylo, probably ready to give her a hard time for disappearing off the floor. He always seemed to have a knack for knowing when she was brooding in the back, and she was sure he’d have something to say about it.
But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Mylo.
It was you.
You stood there in the doorway, hesitant, but with that soft look on your face. You looked so damn good up close like this—like you had stepped out of a dream. Vi’s chest tightened, and she swallowed hard.
You looked at her for a moment, unsure of what to say, and then, in a voice that was soft, you say, “I thought… I thought you might be back here.”
She stood still for a second, just staring at you, unsure of how to handle the fact that you had found her.
“Uh, sorry if I—” You paused, glancing down at your shoes like you weren’t sure how to proceed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to, I don’t know, check in.”
“You’re not interrupting. I just—“ Vi stepped back to let you in, closing the door behind you. “—needed to take a break.”
She leaned against the door, keeping her distance, unsure if you’d notice how much she was trying to keep her guard up.
The silence stretched between you two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… intimate in its own way.
You were quiet too, glancing around the small room, but eventually, your eyes fell to her again. Vi noticed the way your gaze lingered on her, and she couldn’t help but feel the heat rise to her face.
Her breath caught in her throat for a second, but she quickly brushed it off, trying to focus on the conversation, trying not to get lost in the way you looked at her.
“You didn’t come back… when your tests were over…” Vi’s voice dropped quieter, a little hesitant, like she wasn’t sure how to ask the question.
She hadn’t seen you in a while, and it made her question everything.
The words hung between you, and Vi shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering away for a moment, focusing on something in the corner of the room.
She didn’t want to look too eager, too desperate. But the truth was, she had been thinking about you. Every minute of the day. And when she didn’t see you, when she didn’t hear from you, it made her feel like maybe she wasn’t as important to you as she had thought.
She didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but the words had slipped out. Vi cleared her throat, turning back to you.
“I thought… I thought maybe I’d see you again, but… you didn’t come back.” Her voice softened again.
Did you want to come back? Had she somehow messed things up by letting herself feel this much for you? Vi couldn’t keep the questions from creeping into her mind, even though she tried to push them away.
“You didn’t even text,” she said quietly, her voice softer now, almost a whisper.
You blinked, surprised by the sharpness in her voice, the way it cut through the silence that had been so comfortable just a moment ago. You could see it in her eyes—something in the way she said that, something fragile.
It made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t meant to distance yourself from her. You just… didn’t know what to say.
“I… I didn’t mean to disappear,” you said quietly, your voice soft and unsure. You shifted your weight, glancing down at your feet, before looking up again. “It’s just, I was nervous about coming back without having a solid reason to, and I thought maybe, you know…”
Vi’s gaze softened, the intensity in her eyes giving way to something more tender. She tilted her head slightly, studying you.
“Nervous?” she repeated quietly, as if testing the word. Her brow furrowed slightly. “About what?”
You swallowed, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress, trying to find the right words. It felt strange, admitting it aloud, but with Vi in the room with you, you couldn’t stop yourself.
“About… you,” you said, the confession slipping out before you could stop it. “About all of this… about seeing you again, about how I feel when I’m around you… I didn’t want to mess it up.”
Vi’s heart skipped a beat at your words. Her breath caught for a fraction of a second.
“It’s just…” she started again, her voice a little rough. “I missed seeing you. That’s all.”
Her gaze shifted to the floor for a moment, a faint flush creeping up her neck. She wasn’t used to admitting this kind of thing aloud either, not even to herself. But there it was, spilling out between you two like something she couldn’t stop.
You felt your heart tug at the honesty in her voice, the way it made you feel like maybe you hadn’t been the only one thinking about this.
“I missed you, too.”
And for the first time tonight, Vi finally smiled.
You couldn’t help but tease her, a small smirk curling at the corners of your lips as you said, “I was waiting for you to text me, too, you know.”
The words felt bold, but you couldn’t hide the nervous excitement bubbling up inside of you.
Vi dropped her head and let out a breathy chuckle. The jealousy, the frustration, everything she’d been feeling earlier—it seemed to vanish completely.
She leaned back against the door, her eyes never leaving yours, full of something far gentler now—something you hadn’t seen before, or at least not like this.
“Can you come here?” she asked, her voice soft, almost like a whisper, but there was something in it that made the air in the room thick.
You hesitated for just a moment, heart pounding in your chest, but you couldn’t resist. Slowly, you walked over to her, your movements measured, though a nervous excitement fluttered in your stomach.
Vi’s eyes never left you as you approached. She watched the way your dress moved with each step, the way your body shifted as you walked toward her, and it drove her absolutely wild. She couldn’t help but let her eyes linger, taking in the sight of you, the way the fabric clung to your curves.
By the time you were close enough, Vi had already moved. She leaned against the door, her hands coming up to gently but firmly grip your hips, pulling you in closer. You felt the heat of her touch spread through you, her hands on your hips guiding you so that you were now flat against her chest, your bodies pressed together.
You couldn’t stop the breath that caught in your throat, the feel of her hands on you sending a wave of heat rushing through your body.
You could feel the rhythm of her breathing, the slight hitch in it when you finally stood there, so close. Her gaze flickered down to the dress you were wearing, and you could feel the tension in her fingers as she lightly traced the hem of it, playing with the fabric as though she couldn’t quite get enough of it.
“I like this,” Vi’s voice was quiet, almost a murmur, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s pretty.”
You didn’t say anything at first, instead simply meeting her gaze, your pulse quickening under her touch. The way she looked at you now, hungry and dazed, made your stomach flip in the best way.
“I… I wasn’t sure if it was too much,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling a little shy but also emboldened by the way Vi was looking at you.
Vi smiled softly, her lips curving up as she leaned in just a little bit closer, her breath warming your cheek.
“It’s perfect,” she said, voice low, as if the words were meant only for you. “You look perfect.”
Her eyes darkened just a fraction, the playful smirk on her lips transforming into something more primal, more feral. Her hands on your hips tightened just a little, urging you closer, as if she couldn’t get close enough.
Vi’s gaze was heavy, her pupils dark and blown wide as they locked onto your face, moving slowly down to your lips. Her stare was intense—shameless, even—and it made your breath hitch.
Her grip on your hips tightened, fingers pressing firmly into your sides. The fabric of your dress bunched up under her hands, her thumbs brushing against the soft material as though she couldn’t help herself. Her touch was slow, almost like she was trying to memorize the feeling of you under her palms.
You could feel the heat radiating off her, the space between you almost nonexistent now. The way her gaze lingered on your lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt rooted to the spot, as if moving would break whatever spell had settled over the two of you.
Vi swallowed hard, her Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, her hands twitching against your hips as though resisting the urge to pull you impossibly closer. Her chest rose and fell in time with her quickened breathing, and you could feel her struggle to keep herself in check, though the way she stared at you made it clear how difficult that was.
Instead, her fingers tightened again, the slight pull of your dress drawing you even closer to her. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were on the verge of saying something, but her gaze kept flickering back to your mouth, and you wondered if words were even necessary.
You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but before you could form a single word, Vi moved. Her grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your dress as she leaned in and claimed your lips with her own.
Her mouth was warm, soft but insistent, and it stole the breath right out of your lungs. You froze for half a second, startled, but then everything in you melted. Your hands found their way to her shoulders, gripping her lightly as she pulled you even closer, pressing your body flush against hers.
There was a kind of hunger in the way her lips moved against yours, but it was careful too—like she wanted to take her time and savor every second of it. Her fingers slid up your sides slightly, still gripping your dress, her thumbs brushing over your waist as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss.
When she finally pulled back, just barely, her forehead rested against yours. She was breathless, her eyes still heavy-lidded as they locked onto yours. Her hands were still on your hips, holding you against her.
Vi looks at you, a wide, soft smile spreading across her face as she leans her head back against the door, her hands moving upward, tracing the curve of your back slowly. Her fingertips brush against the zipper of your dress, playing with it absentmindedly as she lets out a breathy laugh.
“I think I’m doing this out of order…” she murmurs.
Your brows knit together slightly, still dazed from the kiss.
“Out of order?” you echo, your voice quieter than you intended.
Vi nods, her gaze drifting back to your lips as if they we drawn there magnetically.
Her smile turns almost sheepish, but the heat in her eyes doesn’t fade as she mutters quietly, “Yeah… ‘was supposed to ask you out on a date first.”
The words make your stomach flip, and before you can respond, she keeps going. Her voice softens, a little lower, as if she’s painting a picture just for you.
“I would’ve asked you where you’d like to eat… something casual, nothing too fancy. Then I’d pick you up, you’d wear something pretty for me, and I’ll take you somewhere nice. Not here,” she says with a small grin, “somewhere quiet, somewhere where I could actually talk to you without interruptions.”
Her hands are wandering now, sliding slowly down your sides, then up again, the warmth of her palms seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. One of her thumbs brushes against your ribcage, close to the underside of your breasts, her touch gentle but enough to make your breath hitch.
You’re barely holding onto her words as her hands move, but she keeps talking, her tone calm and almost hypnotic.
“Maybe, take you to this little Italian place I like. Not too crowded, but the food’s incredible. Candlelit, y’know? Not to be cheesy, but I think you’d like it.”
Her hands drift down again, her thumbs skimming along the curve of your hips as she keeps her voice low and steady.
“We’d get some wine—unless you’d rather have water, of course,” she teases softly, her lips twitching into a smirk, “and then we’d just… talk. No distractions, no noise, just you and me.”
Her fingers glide back up, tracing the line of your spine.
“After dinner, maybe a walk somewhere. I dunno, a park, the waterfront… wherever you’d want to go. Just somewhere I could hold your hand and maybe steal a kiss, if you let me.”
You try to focus on her voice, but her hands are relentless, mapping your body like she’s trying to memorize every inch. Your breath catches when her fingers tease the short sleeve of your dress, her thumb brushing your shoulder.
“Then,” she continues, her eyes flicking to yours, “I’d walk you home, make sure you got inside safe. And maybe… maybe if I was lucky, you’d ask me to come in and... Well, I don’t wanna spoil it.”
Her lips curve into a lazy smile, her fingers halting just above the small of your back.
“That’s how it was supposed to go,” she says softly, her voice dripping with affection as her gaze locks onto yours.
Your heart pounds in your chest, your body warm and your mind spinning. It’s impossible to think straight when her hands are on you, her voice so low and inviting.
“So why haven’t you?” you ask softly, your voice almost a whisper.
You lean in closer, and Vi instinctively follows your lips, her breath brushing against them.
“Hm?” she hums, clearly distracted, her gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.
“—asked me out yet?” you finish, your voice trembling slightly, the boldness of the question surprising even you.
Vi freezes for a fraction of a second, then her lips tug into a small, almost bashful smile. Without saying a word, she leans in and kisses you again, soft and lingering, her lips fitting against yours. After a moment, her mouth leaves yours only to trail a path down to your jaw, her lips brushing against your skin.
She pauses at the curve of your neck, pressing a slow kiss there before muttering against your skin, her voice husky and low, “You make me nervous, too.”
You feel her lips curl into a smile against your neck, like she knows exactly what kind of effect she’s having on you. Her hands tighten slightly on your waist, holding you as if she can feel the way your legs are threatening to give out beneath you.
You tilt your head slightly, giving her better access without even thinking, and she takes full advantage of it. Her breath is warm against your skin, and every kiss feels like it’s melting away whatever distance was left between the two of you.
“Vi…” you murmur, unsure if you’re trying to stop her or encourage her to keep going.
She pulls back just enough to look at you, her lips slightly parted, her cheeks faintly flushed.
“Yeah?” she asks, her voice quiet.
You don’t have an answer, not one you can articulate anyway. All you can do is stare at her, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure she can hear it. And then she smiles, a crooked, endearing smile that makes your stomach flutter in the best way.
Vi’s lips return to your neck, her breath warm against your skin. She lingers there, her mouth pressing gentle kisses to the curve of your throat, her hands holding your waist firmly as if to steady you. You feel her lips part, the faintest scrape of her teeth against your skin sending a shiver down your spine.
“V-Vi…” you whimper again, but your voice lacks conviction, too soft, too dazed.
And good god, her name sounds so good on your lips.
She hums in response, low and teasing, as her lips close over the sensitive spot she’s found, sucking lightly. The sensation sends a shiver through your entire body, and you grip the fabric of her shirt without thinking, your nails pressing into her shoulders as she kisses your neck.
Her hands slide up your back, keeping you close, and her lips move to a new spot, determined to leave another mark. You know you should stop her, that you’ll be left with marks you can’t easily explain, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
Her tongue traces over the freshly made hickey, soothing it before she moves lower, her lips brushing against your collarbone now. You feel lightheaded, completely consumed by her—her touch, her warmth, her scent, her hands, her lips.
“Vi…” you try again, but it comes out weaker than before, more like a plea than a protest.
She chuckles softly against your skin, the sound low and rumbling, and you feel her smile.
“Too much?” she asks playfully, though she doesn’t pull away.
You don’t answer. You can’t.
Instead, your fingers tighten against her shirt, and she takes it as permission to continue. Her lips find the hollow of your throat, her teeth grazing against the delicate skin there before she sucks lightly, her hands roaming lower to rest just above your hips.
By the time she finally pulls back, you’re breathless, your head spinning. Her lips are slightly swollen, her smile smug but tender as she looks at you.
“You’re gonna hate me when you see those,” she says softly, her fingers brushing lightly against your neck where her lips had been.
As soon as Vi pulls back, her lips curling into that smug, tender smile, you don’t think. You act. You grab her collar, pulling her down as you surge up to meet her lips, kissing her hard and desperate, pouring every pent-up feeling into that kiss.
Vi grunts softly against your mouth, low and rough, and it sends a thrill down your spine. Her hands, still gripping your waist, tighten possessively to keep you exactly where you are. You feel her smile against your lips for a moment before she kisses you back just as fiercely, her teeth grazing your bottom lip, her tongue brushing against yours in a way that makes your knees weak.
It’s almost overwhelming, the way she kisses you—like she’s been starving for you.
She breaks the kiss just long enough to push herself off the door, her hands sliding to your hips as she turns you around. Before you can even process what’s happening, your back hits the door with a soft slam, the wood rattling slightly behind you. Vi’s hands cage you in, one hand by the side of your head and the other on your hip, keeping you in place as she crashes her lips back onto yours.
She kisses you like she’s claiming you, like she wants to make it crystal clear who you belong to. Her heart swells with pride as she imagines that guy you were with outside, seeing all those little bruises she left on your neck for everyone to see.
“You’re so pretty, baby,” Vi murmurs against your lips, her voice hoarse and ragged, before diving back in.
Her fingers slide underneath the hem of your dress, tracing the soft curve of your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. The moment her touch makes contact with the bare skin of your thighs, you gasp, the feeling of her fingers inching higher and higher, making your pulse race.
You can feel the way she presses in, her grip firm, as if she’s marking territory, staking her claim. She wanted you so bad. But she’s careful with you, and you can feel how she’s holding herself back just a little, the restraint making you ache for more. You know she wants you just as much as you want her—and you can’t help but be drawn deeper into her orbit.
Her hands reach up under your dress, the pads of her fingers tracing your lace panties and Vi shudders at the feeling. She can feel the dampness and warmth of you already and fuck, it drives her absolutely wild.
“You’re already wet, sweetheart,” she says, smiling against your neck proudly.
“V-Vi… Here?” You gasp into her ear.
She nods eagerly, eyes dazed as she looks at you, “Mhm.”
“B-But, someone might hear—“
“Then, you’ll keep quiet for me, won’t you, princess?” She purrs into your ear. “Can you do that?”
Your breath hitches at the way she says it, making your knees feel weak. You feel her smile against your skin, a sly curve of her lips that tells you she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.
“Hmm?” she hums, her thumb rubbing the center of your panties in soft circles, testing your reaction. She tilts her head slightly to catch your gaze. “Or are you gonna make it hard for me?”
You swallow, your heart pounding as you meet her gaze, your lips parting to answer, but nothing comes out. Instead, you nod, your breath hitching as her thumb presses your clit over the fabric of your panties.
She smiles, one hand coming up to fondle your breast. You whimper when she squeezes softly, enjoying the soft fullness in the palm of her hands.
“Tell me.”
You get lost in her stare, blue eyes telling you how much she wants you.
“I-I want you, Violet.”
Without wasting another second, Vi slips the hand that was under your dress and into your panties, her fingers immediately coming in contact with your soaking cunt, your folds slick with want. She hums in approval, and all you can do is nod again, biting down on your lip to keep from making a sound. Vi notices, her smirk widening as she leans in again, her lips trailing down your neck in a series of soft kisses.
“That’s my girl,” she whispers, her voice vibrating against your skin, making it impossible to focus on anything but her.
And when she slips a finger inside, you drop your head to her shoulder, trying to muffle your moan. Her finger immediately curls against your tight walls and you can feel your knees buckle as she thrusts her finger into you.
“Oh, V-Vi—“
She lifts her head up and kisses you on the lips, her tongue slipping inside with ease. She swallowed your moans as she whimpered into your mouth, her body trapping you between her and the door.
“You look… so good,” she murmured, voice hushed, her lips grazing your skin as she spoke. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
But then she adds another finger without any warning, her pace speeding up as you leaned your head back against the door behind you. You let your jaw fall when you feel her thrusting, and thrusting, and thrusting, and curling right into that spongy spot inside your pussy that made you moan.
“N-nh … A-Ah, fuck!” You gasp, unable to control your voice as she speeds up her fingers.
“Shh, shhhh, baby,” she murmurs against your lips, tilting her head as she watches you fall apart on her fingers. “Does it feel good, princess?”
“M-Mhm—ah—“
“Yeah?” You feel Vi smile on your lips.
Nodding your head, you whine, feeling your body grow weak the longer she fucked you.
“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs against your neck, her voice low and husky.
Her fingers move quickly as they piston in and out of you, a soft squelching noise filling the empty room, teasing and testing your boundaries, gauging every reaction you give her. You could hear the low thrum of the music outside, playing in the lounge and in the bar, but you can barely begin to think about anything else other than the way Vi was making you feel, the way you were coming undone right in front of her.
“Look at you,” she whispers, her voice thick with adoration, “so pretty like this.”
Her free hand, the one that was fondling your tits, moves from your waist to cradle your face, her thumb brushing over your cheek as she leans in to kiss you deeply.
And holy fuck, you could feel it—how close you suddenly were.
You were sure Vi could feel it, too. She groans against your neck, head falling to your shoulder as she breathes you in, feeling your tight walls clench around her digits. You close. You were so damn close—
Then, Vi’s ears twitch—the sound of footsteps coming closer from behind the door.
She freezes. But only for a brief moment when she hears Mylo’s voice through the door, her body going taut as she glances at you. Your eyes widen, but Vi doesn’t pull away. Instead, a sly grin spreads across her face, her pupils blown wide as she looks at you.
Her lips find your ear, her words sending a shiver down your spine. “Stay quiet for me, yeah?”
And instead of stopping, her lips curl into a mischievous grin. Her fingers don’t falter, if anything she thrusted them faster into your wet pussy, her other hand moving quickly to cover your mouth as a quiet whimper escapes you, muffling all your delicious moans. You whimper against her mouth, eyes rolling back, not sure when you were going to cum. You felt so close—so fucking close.
“Shhh,” she whispers, her mouth brushing against your ear, her voice low and dripping with amusement.
From the other side of the door, Mylo’s voice comes again, confused but unconcerned. “Vi? You in there? You good?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she calls out, her voice steady, calm, like nothing at all is happening. “Just… needed a minute.”
You feel your face heat up as you struggle to stay composed, muffled against her palm, your eyes wide and pleading. But Vi’s gaze is locked onto yours as she continues to fuck you.
“Well, can you hurry up? The bar’s getting packed,” he says.
“Y-Yeah, I’ll be there!” Vi sighs as your legs begin to tremble.
Mylo grumbles something you can’t understand, footsteps retreating as he wanders off.
As soon as the sound of his steps fades, Vi lets out a low chuckle, finally removing her hand from your mouth. Her thumb brushes against your lips as she leans in close, her breath fanning your cheek. You were right around her fingers, and Vi couldn’t help but groan and press her thumb against your clit.
You jolt in her arms as you hold on to her shoulders for some leverage, trying to keep yourself steady, even though it felt like an impossible task. Vi groans when you clench, your soaking wet pussy dripping down your thighs, dripping onto her hand as she fingers you.
Vi could feel it on her fingers, slick and tight. How close you were—fuck fuck fuck. She moved faster and all you could do was hold on and cry into her shoulder.
“V-Vi, I—close—I’m—“
“You wanna cum? Yeah?” Vi whispers, using her body to press you against the door, fingers thrusting harder, deeper and faster. “Cum for me, baby.”
Then it crashes. Vi feels your body tense under her touch, your breaths coming faster as you gush around her fingers. She can see it in the way your hands clutch at her shoulders, the way your head tilts back slightly, lips parting as a soft, desperate mewl escapes your mouth.
But before that sound can grow louder, Vi’s lips crash onto yours, swallowing the moan that tries to escape. She doesn’t stop her fingers until you’re trembling in her arms. You melt against her, your body trembling, leaving you breathless and clinging to her, her strong arms and broad shoulders hold you up. Vi doesn’t pull back, keeping her lips on yours until she’s sure you’re done riding it out.
When she finally does break the kiss, her lips linger close, her forehead resting gently against yours. You’re panting softly, and she’s just smiling.
“Fuck,” she murmurs and you can feel her smirk against your skin as she presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.
Vi’s hand slows to a stop, pulling her fingers out of you slowly, her palm pressing flat against your thigh as she watches you. Her gaze is stuck on you, like she couldn’t believe what she’s seeing. The way your body trembles against hers, the soft flush of your cheeks, the way your lips part as you gasp for breath—it’s all too much and somehow not enough at the same time.
Her chest tightens as she leans her head forward against your shoulder. Vi wasn’t prepared for this—wasn’t prepared for you. And the thought crashes into her like a freight train: she’s falling hard. Maybe she already has.
She lifts her head up and he thumb absentmindedly brushes against your skin as you catch your breath. You’re leaning against her now, your head resting lightly on her shoulder, still dazed and glowing after your orgasm. Vi doesn’t even realize she’s staring, her lips slightly parted, her pupils blown wide with love.
She blurts it out without even thinking.
“So… dinner… Friday?”
Her ears burn as she watches for your reaction.
“I mean—” she starts, her voice faltering, unsure whether to backtrack or double down.
But when she glances down at you, still pressed against her, all she can do is grin sheepishly.
“You’re seriously asking me out… right now?” you say, lifting an eyebrow at her. Your voice is soft and teasing, but still a little breathless from everything that just happened.
Vi’s lips curl into a crooked grin, and she lets out a laugh that’s equal parts nervous and amused. She’s holding you up slightly, biceps flexing under her shirt, her hands resting lightly on your hips, her thumbs grazing the fabric of your dress like she’s afraid to let go.
“Yeah,” she says, her voice low but steady, her grin widening. “Is that a problem?”
You shake your head, narrowing your eyes at her like you’re trying to figure her out. You dart your eyes downward, glancing down at where her hands are on you, feeling the warmth of her touch through the thin fabric.
“Stupid,” you mutter under your breath.
You stare at Vi.
“Friday?” you ask softly, tilting your head slightly, your voice teasing her.
Vi nods again, more earnestly this time, her lips parting like she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead, she just looks at you, like she’s this big, lovesick puppy. And, if she had a tail right now, you’re pretty sure it would be wagging hard enough to knock over a chair or two.
“Friday,” she repeats.
She shifts on her feet slightly, her hands still resting on your hips, thumbs brushing tiny circles against the fabric of your dress. You bite back a laugh, your smile growing as you watch her, all nervous and excited.
“Okay,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.
Vi’s entire face lights up, her crooked grin spreading so wide it makes her dimples appear.
“Yeah?” she says softly, and you nod, still smiling.
And then she stops, her eyes flickering to your lips one last time, but she doesn’t move any closer.
She’s waiting—patiently, sweetly—for you to close the gap if you want to. And it makes your heart ache a little because she’s trying so hard to hold herself back for your sake, even when you can tell it’s killing her.
But as soon as your eyes day to her lips and smile softly, her restraint crumbles. She leans in and kisses you, her hands tightening slightly on your hips. Vi’s heart feels like it’s about to burst out of her chest. She likes you—so much it scares her, so much she doesn’t know what to do with herself right now except kiss you harder.
You kiss her back with just as much intensity, your fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt to pull her even closer. You can feel the slight tremor in her hands where they grip your hips, sliding up slowly to your waist. She tastes like peppermint gum and something faintly sweet, and the way she kisses you makes your heart race so fast you’re surprised she can’t feel it through your chest.
Vi pulls back for just a moment, her forehead resting against yours as she exhales a shaky breath. Her lips are still parted, her eyes half-lidded as she looks at you, and she’s smiling—wide and boyish and so full of joy that it makes your chest tighten.
“I really, really like you.”
You laugh softly, your hand moving up to touch her jaw, your thumb brushing over her cheek where her tattoo is.
“I really, really like you, too,” you tease, your own voice a little shaky from how lightheaded you feel.
Vi grins, her dimples showing, and then she kisses you again, this time slower, softer, like she’s savoring it.
You cant think of anything else but her. The noise from the bar, the memory of whatever brought you here tonight—it’s all drowned out by the feeling of Vi’s lips on yours and the warmth of her hands on your waist.
And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself stop overthinking.
Vi feels like she’s floating, her chest so full it feels like she might burst. She likes you so much it almost hurts, and the way you kiss her back like you feel the same way makes her head spin. She pulls you just a little closer, her fingers slipping around your waist, and she can’t stop the quiet, breathless laugh that escapes against your lips. You smile into the kiss, your own heart thudding loudly in your chest.
If this is what liking Vi feels like, you think, you don’t ever want it to stop.
ty for reading ! | navigation
More Posts from Jannesyjane and Others
A Walk Around the Block (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
Summary: A chance encounter with a charming soldier leaves you reeling after a kiss you never meant to give. You swore you’d never fall for a man in uniform—but James Buchanan Barnes isn't easy to forget. Then he shows up outside your door...
“Wherever you want, doll. I’d walk to the end of the world with you.”
Set in 1940s Brooklyn, before James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes is deployed in the beginning of Captain America: The First Avanger and long before he becomes the Winter Soldier.
"You know I would have bought these red pumps with the cute bow for you! They looked so adorable!", Y/BFF/N gushed as you two walked down a road in Brooklyn on your way to your home.
"I know you would have...but", you sighed: "You know I don't want that."
You had just been shopping in the city center and carried your bags home now. Y/BFF/N’s family was one of the richest on Long Island, therefor she always offered to get you all the nice things you couldn’t afford, but you never let her – the one exception being your birthday. To outsider’s it seemed like you didn’t have much in common, but you were inseparable ever since you had bet at thirteen-years-old in a theater workshop in central park.
"It's so sad that you have to work today...we could have gone dancing again!"
"I'm sorry...but I promised my father to check our books today.” The weak excuse came in handy. You had in fact promised your father to help in his car repair shop, but you also weren’t keen on dancing as well.
You were still thinking about the night before and about the man you had danced with. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. Of course, you remembered his name, how were you supposed to forget it? Or the kiss?
Why had you been so stupid? Of course, you had danced with men before or had talked to one for an entire evening at one of these parties, but you had never kissed one of them! And a soldier?! What on earth were you thinking?
You were looking out for a decent young man with whom you could fall in love, not for a soldier! They weren't looking for love, they just hoped to get in as many girls' pants as possible for the short time they were home.
But Bucky had been so nice...a bit direct and a tease for sure, but funny and polite. God and the kiss!
"We should have taken your driver", you sighed with a smile on your lips.
"Oh no. He only would have told my parents what we have been doing all the time, and I hate that!"
"I know. I get it", you nodded: "What did they say when you came home so late last night?"
"Same as always", Y/BFF/N shrugged.
"You know you can always stay at my place for the night, my parents wouldn't mind and-"
"Oh my", Y/BFF/N suddenly gushed and stopped in her track as a devilish smirk appeared on her face: "Look who's leaning at a lamp post next to your house. Your little soldier."
"My what?", your eyes widened, and your gaze drifted to the lamp post next to the entrance to your father's car repair shop which was located on the ground floor underneath the flat your family was living in. Y/BFF/N was right!
Casually standing there -this time dressed in normal clothes rather than his uniform- was Bucky. What was he doing here?
"What is he doing here?", you whispered to your best friend.
"Looks like he wants to see you. Let's not disappoint him, come!", she dragged you in his direction. What on earth was she doing?
You tried to loosen your friend's grip and attempted to escape until Bucky spotted you - then, of course, you tried to seem as casual and relaxed as possible.
You hadn't told Y/BFF/N about the kiss. It was unnecessary! You would have bet you'd never get to see Bucky ever again. And the kiss simply wasn't like you!
When Bucky saw you, a grin found its way to his lips. A grin which immediately made your chest hurt.
Trying to act all cool you laughed from a distance: "Oh Sergeant, to what do I owe the honor?"
"Wanted to see you.", he smirked.
Sure. Only because you didn't get what you wanted last night.
"In this lighting he looks even more handsome than these shitty dim lights yesterday", Y/BFF/N whispered and she was right. Bucky was the most handsome man you had ever seen.
"Do you want to go for a walk, doll?", he suddenly asked when you stood in front of him.
You rolled your eyes in Y/BFF/N's direction and said: "If anything, it's darling. Not 'doll'."
Which only resulted in Y/BFF/N gently pushing your shoulder with hers.
"If I went with you...where would we go?"
"Wherever you want, doll. I'd walk to the end of the world with you."
You rolled your eyes yet again at his words trying to cover up your blushing cheeks, but Y/BFF/N had somehow already answered for her when you took your bags from her. God, she really wanted you to go with him. But did You?
"Okay fine Sergeant Barnes, let's go. But only because I don't have anything else to do right now!"
"Of course not", he nodded and winked at you.
"I'll see you tomorrow", you said to your friend and followed Bucky, after your friend had answered with an excited squeal.
"So you remember my name, doll?"
"Of course I do", you looked at him surprised: "But apparently you forgot mine, doll."
"How could I, Y/N?", he grinned at you and walked beside you, with enough distance between you, so you would't accidentally touch.
"Okay, maybe you haven't."
"I never forget a pretty girl's name."
Of course not. You sighed.
"James, what do you want from me?"
"Bucky. And like I said I wanted to see you. I figured you wanted to see me as well after you showed me where you lived."
Damn it! Why had you let him walk you home last night?
"Maybe...", you bit your lower lip.
"I really enjoyed our last night!"
"Could you please lower your voice? What are the people going to think?", you nervously looked around if one of the people passing you had been paying any attention.
"Why?", the soldier laughed: "We've only been dancing! Nothing inappropriate, doll."
"I'm not your doll!", you pouted but the smirk on your lips gave it away.
"Not like I wouldn't be down for inappropriate things", he grinned and stopped so he was able to look at your face better.
He was more than one head taller than you and was looking down to you with bliss in his stunningly blue eyes.
"But you set the pace, beautiful", he whispered and tugged a lose strand of hair behind your ear which left you speechless for a second.
"Pardon?"
"Pardon?", he grinned innocently and walked on certain you would follow once you had overcome the obvious and adorable shock. And you did.
"Sergeant Barnes, this is not something- I mean...I'm a lady! And I would appreciate if you'd put a little more effort into treating me as such!"
"Oh but I do", he said as he picked a white flower from a low hanging flower box and tugged it behind your: "Milady."
"That's a lot better, Sergeant", you smiled softly while the red of your cheeks turned even brighter: "Plus, I think I like 'milady' a lot better than 'doll'."
He laughed...and God, his laugh...
"So...tell me, where do you want to go?"
"Just walk around a few blocks?"
You knew you still had work waiting for you at home.
"How boring! I told you I'd walk to the end of the world for you!"
"But isn't boring like a welcome change for you?"
"Shouldn't I be at home all day, laying around if that was the case?"
"I just thought..."
"It's alright", he smiled: "A few blocks it is."
"I'm sorry if that disappoints you."
"It doesn't", he demanded and winked at you with a cheeky grin: "I'd rather just walk a few blocks with good company than to lay around at home."
"Your family must be very happy you're home", you smiled but he just shrugged and tugged both of his hands in the pockets of his trousers.
"My family is rather small actually. Consists of exactly one person, although my best friend would be very pissed if he heard that, he's like a brother."
He tried to joke it off and acted all casual, but you had realized how his mood had changed.
"Oh...so you're all alone?"
Somehow she couldn't quite believe that. A happy person like Bucky was so lonely, how could that be the case? And why did the idea of it hurt so bad?
"Yes, but it's okay, really. Don't worry about it. I get along just fine on my own."
"I can imagine", you nodded: "Bet nobody is dumb enough to mess around with Sergeant Barnes!"
"Exactly, so you better behave, doll, and stop calling me Sergeant! Except you really like it."
You rolled your eyes yet another time, you just couldn't help it.
"You know , you look adorable when you do that, don't you?"
"When I do what?"
"Roll your eyes at me. Through that I can tell you must really like me!", he teased her.
"Oh really?", you raised your eyebrows: "If I wasn't raised properly I would definitely call you an idiot right now, Sergeant."
"That only proves it even more."
"Dream on!"
"So you're saying you kissed me without even liking me? Now you hurt my feelings, doll, you really did!", he acted over the top hurt and upset.
"You mean you kissed me", you lowered your voice and your entire body tensed.
"Relax, doll", Bucky laughed and took a step closer towards you: "You are right. I kissed you", and whispering into your ear he added: "But it did not seem like you didn't enjoy it."
You felt your heart starting to beat faster when he came closer but his gentle touch of your cheek and earlobe had been swift and he quickly leaned back again.
You swallowed visibly before you said with a thin voice: "I...Bucky, I'm not like that. I don't know what came over me yesterday and-"
"Don't worry. That's every girl's reaction to me."
How could he say that?! That was every girl's reaction to him?! Well, if that's the case.
"Apparently you're really nothing but an impatient womanizer", you shook your head and went past him with quick steps.
Why had she been dumb enough to even imagine he could be a decent man?
"Hey, wait, Y/N", he rushed after you: "I'm just teasing you, doll! It's all fun!"
"I'm not your toy, Bucky!"
"Got it. No games."
"Okay...", you gave in again. God, why did he have to look at you with these stunningly beautiful eyes?
"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"
"Why?"
"We could go dancing in the evening again", he offered: "Or if you finally figure out a destination a bit further away than just a few blocks I could pick you up in the afternoon and we drive wherever you want to go, how does that sound?"
"You have a car?", you raised your eyebrows and eyed him critically, trying to figure out if he really meant it.
"No, but I would organize one."
She chuckled: "Okay, but I have to work tomorrow. What about the day after?"
"I'll be there."
--> MASTERLIST
Hiii! English is not my first language so please forgive any mistakes. Could you do an imagine of Sevika where the reader and her have been together for a long time, and the reader almost dies in battle? (Like, she got shot in a place that bleeds a lot, which makes Sevika super worried) And she makes a little confession to the reader? Saying that she can't lose her and stuff like that. Sorry for the long request, it's my first time ordering 😭😭 Thanks anyway 🩷🤍🩷
Wont lose you ʚɞ
thank you for the request,! it was a bit rushed but I like it anyways let me know if you do :)
Silco sent you on an important mission, taking down this factory all relied on you. Sevika had insisted on being by your side the entire time, but her request was denied.
Her and two other goons sat on the sidelines to make sure you could get in and out without being seen. No fight. No problem.
Why did she have to get stuck with these guys? She would have been better off down there helping you.
She sat outside the doube doors, one of the men lit a cigarillo for her. All was going according to plan so far.
You had gotten in and deactivated some machines. Now you needed to get out.
Sevika, your long time girlfriend was worried. Despite not wanting to admit it you could tell by the look on her face before you crossed the threshold to the factory.
You chuckled to yourself, thinking of how she patted your back on the way in as encouragement.
But you were confident you could carry this out without a hitch.
What you didn't know is there weren't just guards on the outside.
Your footsteps echoed throughout the seemingly empty factory. All you had to do was pour gasoline around the inside perimeter and on the machines and strike a match. It's not that hard.
You were bent over a machine, checking out the parts and gears before you feel a sharp pain of a blunt object on your back. Turning around you instinctively grab it.
A tall, lanky woman stood towering over you. Before she could pull it from your grasp, you kicked her in the stomach. She stumbled backward with a grut. When you dropped the bat, you were met with another thwack to your head.
You let out a muffled cry, biting your lip. You heard the woosh of an object and half-ducked-half-fell. An ambush. How mature. Another metal bat slammed into the ground beside your head. A broad figure stood over you, moving to hit you again. You rolled to the left but not without getting a swift kick to the stomach.
"Urgh." The wind was knocked out of your lungs. But you had no time to hesitate, jumping to your feet and blocking the next strike of the bat with your forearm.
You grabbed it and pulled it forward, bringing the weilder with it. Letting go with one hand, you slam your fist into their throat. The woman from before came back around, picking up her bat again. You met her metal bat with the one in your hands.
It's okay. You could win. The mission was still going according to plan. Two people with bats you could easily take on. You heard a familiar cocking behind your head.
"Drop it"
Fuck.
You didn't.
Instead, you turned to deliver a high kick to their head. But they managed to pull the trigger faster than you could land it.
Bang
You let out a shrill cry and clutched your side. Blood seeped through your fingers and stained your shirt.
"I told you to drop it," Their deep voice hissed.
You could hear three people rushing into the factory, footsteps echoing throughout the establishment. The person that shot you turned their attention to your team. The trigger happy idiot immediately started firing.
Bullets ricochet against the metal. Sometime amidst the chaos, you started to lose consciousness. Black spots littered your vision, and you finally dropped to your knees. A figure bent over you, yelling incoherent things. She jad a hand on your back, gripping your shirt between clammy fingers.
Looking up, you saw Sevikas distressed expression. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and there was a worried crease between her brows. She was shouting things you couldn't quite make out. Maybe something like "We need to leave" or "We are lighting it up." Maybe both.
She grabbed your legs, hand still on your back and hoisted you into her arms. You could feel her warm arm on your upper back and the hardness of her prosthetic against the back of your legs.
In your groggy state you looked up to Sevika, her teeth gritted as she ran throughout the factory with heavy steps. You could hear an explosion come from far behind you.
A ringing in your ears.
She looked down at you.
Then you passed out.
What seemed to be a few hours later, you groggly awoke. Light seeped into your vision and you attempted to get up. "Fuck," A sharp pain shot through your side.
Oh, right. You got shot.
You looked down to where you now held your side, but instead of blood like how you expected, there are sterile bandages. They wrapped around your now mostly bare torso.
Looking around the room, it seemed familiar to you. Right before you could put your finger on it your girlfriend came walking into the room, holding a glass of water.
Her eyes shot wide open, and she started walking a little faster towards your bedside. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"
You laughed at her suprise, "Yeah. Now that you're here"
Your voice was raspy and dry. You reached out for the water in her hand. She instead pushed your hand down and brought the cup up to your lips herself.
"I thought I'd lost you," She sighs in releif.
You took big gulps of water. She had just finished smoking. You could smell it on her hands. You pulled your lips away from the cup and she brought a thumb to your mouth to wipe away stray water droplets.
It was your turn to ask, "Are you okay?"
She let out a dry laugh, "You're the one sitting in bandages in my bed, and you're asking if Im okay?"
She brings her larger hand to your arm, rubbing circles into your skin. Her rough calloused hands brought some comfort to you.
"Im sorry I let that happen. I shouldn't have let you go in there alone. Silco was wrong," She grumbled, clutching her temples.
"Hey, I can do things by myself. It was an unfair attack." You chimed in.
"I don't care. I dont know what i would do if i lost you in there," She spoke firmly.
Her lips were pursed into a straight line. Trying to calm that tension you reached up to grab her face, bringing her lips to yours.
Her lips chased yours when you pulled away. Hissing as you grabbed your side again. "Shit, do i need to change your bandages?" She got up, already heading for the cabinets.
You were usually the one to dress her wounds, not the other way around. "Aww, you bandaged me up?" You cooed.
"Shut up"
chicken shop date.
had to make this into a imagine.
summary: you get the chance to interview central cee on your show titled "chicken shop date" but he's obviously into you. sorry to ameila dimoldenburg lmao.
pairings: central cee x reader
genre: fluff / slightly suggestive
word count: 2k (unedited)
a/n: imagine that ameila dimoldenburg doesn't exist for the whole sake of the plot. i stole most of her iconic replies though. thank you and GIVE ME REQUESTS. <3
finally. you've got a special guest on for today that's been a fan of your show for a long time and well.. you. although, you haven't had the pleasure of meeting one another in reality, but luckily he agreed to have a chicken shop date with you.
central cee.
you both sit down behind a table in a small yet cosy morleys, the camera crew sets up and prepares for the show whilst a small yet not too large crowd accumulates outside the shop at sight of you two.
you greet central cee and he beams back at you as you both get comfortable and prepare for the small interview/date. "it's nice to have you on the show." you thank him.
"it's calm, i've always wanted to be here." he responds, insisting that it really isn't truly that big of a deal.
you won't lie to yourself, you've always found central cee to be attractive ever since he happened to become a uk rap sensation. i mean who hasn't. you're excited and feel as if it's a blessing to sit before him.
"i actually watch this show too, i saw your interview with burna boy." he admits, referencing the last interview i held about a month ago.
my mouth agapes as i feel honoured to the fact that he actually took the chance to watch my show, "really?" you ask him out of disbelief and he nods proudly.
you'd admit, you'd thought it would be awkward to hold an interview with central cee considering the fact that he hasn't been too shy about the fact that you're considered his celebrity crush but surprisingly, he's very comforting to be around and is down-to-earth.
"i mean obviously you watch my interviews." you joke referencing to his interest in you and he laughs, not denying it at all.
the interview begins.
"what would you say your type is." you ask him and he pauses for a moment thinking to himself before he breaks into a smile. you notice this and furrow your brows confused.
"i like.. i like-" he starts.
"why're you smiling?" you question him confused, although it's an obvious inside joke with the two of you and everyone else that his type is clearly you.
"i don't really know my type, it changes innit it changes by the season." he denies the obvious making me roll my eyes, he sees this and it only makes him laugh.
"well it's winter." you tell him.
"i want my girl to be able to teach me something." he says, before he glares directly at you. you don't let it faze you and you continue to play along with your passive aggressive humour.
"i know a lot, i could teach you something." you joke and he shrugs raising his brows impressed.
"i guess your my type then." he mumbles, his eyes glancing away towards his box of chips and chicken wings.
"what's your favourite tattoo you have?" you question him before eating on one of your chips, central cee listens carefully to you.
"i'm just one big tattoo and the moment, i don't really, i don't know- it's all just blended into one." he rambles as he thinks to himself looking over his clothed arms and chest.
you find him adorable especially his way of speaking, "i like them." you compliment him and something behind his eyes reads pleased.
"thanks."
it's obvious that he's clearly into you, everything from the way that he looks at you, the way he listens carefully whenever you speak and the way that he sits.
you try your best to not make the episode seem like to serious of a date, but with him sitting in front of you, it seems completely impossible.
"i'm not sure how i feel about face tattoos." you mutter, hinting to the small tattoos that decorate his face, he slightly frowns.
"really?"
"would you get another one?" you ask him curiously and he hums thinking to himself.
"maybe not after you said that." he utters jokingly sadly and you both share a short moment of laughter.
"i was joking."
"how long does it take for you to fall in love?"
your question clearly doesn't fall onto interested ears, as a matter of a fact central cee obviously doesn't favour the word love at all.
"i don't know if i've fallen in love before." he admits with a smile to hide how suddenly deep the conversation has gotten.
"you've never fallen in love?" you ask him genuinely surprised.
"no, no- i guess so. i have a weird outlook on love." he responds before pausing looking at you. you ask him to continue on. "i just think it's a delusion innit."
you raise your brows at his response finding it different from your views, "like what, it isn't real?"
"i've been thinking about it a lot recently.. because yeah it's on my mind anyway." he starts finding an interest in the unopened water bottle that lies on the table between you.
"feel like you just have to be a bit deluded."
"that don't mean it isn't real." your response has him in lost of words and he glances about the place before shrugging in response. "i think when you fall in love you'll know." your words make you both share a gaze for a moment before he breaks it, thinking to himself.
"i mean, what if your girl fucks around and it makes your belly hurt, i dunno if that's a good conation on love." he confesses and he notices how it makes you smile.
"maybe that's just what love means to you."
"you've got long hair?" you question him.
"my hair is long." he replies his face looking slightly miserable.
"would you ever take it out of the sock it's always in." you joke and he laughs before he hums thinking of his next words.
"i dunno, i feel like i'm going through a bit of an identity crisis at the moment." he admits, and you hum in reply.
"i like long hair." you smile and he sees so before grinning.
"guess, i'll keep it then." he glances away again.
he's just like a little school boy who's gotten the chance to speak with his crush for the first time. it's cute.
"do i look like i'm hot, like my face is hot." you question him using your hands to fan your face and he shakes his head.
"you're fine." he starts glancing over at your face, "i like it though, it's like natural blush."
"stop flirting with me."
"it's cute." he mumbles gazing at you.
"i'm really bad at flirting." he sighs to himself rubbing his head deep in thought, you furrow your brows in disbelief.
"what do you mean you're bad at flirting?"
"yeah, i'm just shit at flirting, i can't flirt man."
"so what, you don't get with a lot of girls all the time?" he hurries to deny and shake his head, but you only listen to him curiously.
"you're telling me you don't go out with anyone?" you raise his brow and he watches you do so, hurrying to think of his next words.
"no, maybe i do go out sometimes, it's not like i'll go out of my way to do so." he tells you and you hum. "i've just lived a long life." he mumbles making you laugh at how deep it sounds.
"would you go out with me?" your questions sparks his attention and he chuckles to himself at how straight forward it is.
"i'll see."
"this is like a genuine date to me." he says as he opens up with bottle of chilled water, "like i'm genuinely here it's a dinner.. date."
you smile at him as you recall the times he's wanted to go on a date with your for ages, "you've wanted to go on a date with me for ages." you tell him and he smiles.
"i did want to go on a date with you, before my carrer flourished then i got overwhelmed not looking for love it was like a full circle."
"now you're on a date with me." you say proudly and he nods.
"finally." he glares at you and something about it catches you aback, he's really trying to full on flirt with you.
"are you single?" he raises his brow at your question.
"i mean yeah, obviously." he begins laying back into his seat, "i mean otherwise, i wouldn't be here."
"i'm single too." you imply reaffirming him but he doesn't say anything beside humming taking your word.
"what's the quickest way to get to your heart." you ask him, the phrase makes him irk and he frowns.
"don't try to get to my heart." he tells you and you listen to him. "i just think, i don't like girls that like me." he mumbles
"i hate you."
he laughs at your playfulness, "turns me on, i love it."
"guess i'll hate you from now on." you mutter lowly, but he still hears it.
"what's the most romantic thing you've ever done?" you ask him, but learning so much about him you already expect a specific response from him.
"i'm hopeless, i dunno i'm transitioning, this is all hard for me." he rants and you exhale deeply.
"too bad, it's all hard for you."
"it's easier said than done."
"you have a nice smile." you compliment him and he smiles looking at you.
"you're really pretty you know." he responds making you feel your cheeks slightly warm up.
"and you don't know how to flirt?" you frown but he shrugs once again. how can he not understand that he's literally a walking flirt.
"guess you'll teach me then." he glances at you in a suggestive way and you grin as you recall telling him you'll teach him something.
"it was nice talking to you, i'll c you later." you joke and he laughs getting your play on words.
"love and leave me."
"what do you mean love and leave me?"
"like i'll love you and leave you."
"what about love and love me?"
he closes his box gazing at you. "sounds good."
"what's that song you have with pinkpantheress called?" you question him and he shuffles in his seat before responding.
"obsessed with you."
"yeah i know, tell me the song's name." he mentally groans at the word obsessed and you feel the urge to roll your eyes again.
"i don't think i'm the obsessed type." he complains.
"i feel like secretly you are." you tell him implying his obvious celebrity crush on you and he smiles understanding you.
"maybe i am, but i dunno yet."
"i feel like you're the type to catch feelings and get obsessed." he listens to you nodding his head passively aggressively.
"maybe i'm a simp you know." he utters and you both share a gaze with one another before laughing.
"can i get your number, or something?" he asks you taking out his phone from his pocket and passing it towards you.
you blink at his phone for a moment before looking up at him, only to see him watching you expectantly.
you take it from him without a word before typing in your number and adding your contact name followed by a sweet emoji before passing it back to him with a smile.
he glances down at the name and laughs upon noticing the emoji you put before testing it out and calling the number.
your phone buzzes from inside of your pocket and you show it him making him grin with a nod, "i'll call you later yeah, pick up." he tells you and suddenly the tension within the room has changed into hinting something sexual.
"course, i'll pick up." you reply.
"alright."
Need her so bad
I’ve been so down bad for Sevika and I saw this thing about a pirate AU and I had to draw it
Scissor me timbers indeed
hers | s.a
summary: your bright personality unexpectedly draws in sevika and she can’t help but fall for you. when finn makes a comment that he can’t take back, sevika reminds him and you how much you mean to her.
pairing: fem!reader x sevika arcane
contains: mature language and content (18+), set sometime between act 1 and act 2 of season 1, established relationship, sunshine!reader, sensitive!reader, reader is described to wear more feminine outfits and makeup, finn being a WEIRDO to reader like omg, minor violence to men who deserve it, smut including — no foreplay, strap-on (hex-strap <3) r!recieving, sevika calls reader pet names such as sunshine, pretty girl, baby, sweet girl, angel, rushed ending.
word count: 4.4K
a/n: i’m ready to bear her children. a little treat before what we might endure in act 2. muah muah i love you angels <333 i am so sorry for posting this so late within the day. i had a hectic day at work but i pushed through for yall!
Sevika would never be described as a bright person.
Her position as Silco’s right-hand woman made her eerily unapproachable. She wore a poker face, gambled with ease, and was expertly skilled in combat. Fear struck in those who dared to try her.
Except, well, you.
When you first took the position as a waitress at The Last Drop, you were immediately drawn to the so-called scary woman. You heard whispers amongst the customers of her actions but all you saw was a tall, gorgeous woman.
Chuck, at least you assumed that was his name as the little 12-year-old girl with bright blue hair repeatedly called him in when she was lingering around, noticed your longing gaze at the woman. He warned you that someone as preppy as you is not someone Sevika would enjoy in her presence.
You were aware of your bubbly personality that, to most, was a bit overwhelming to be around. Your outfits drew attention as you enjoyed more frilly and bright things, always wearing jewelry or makeup or both to color coordinate with your outfits. It brought you joy and you weren’t ashamed of it.
You ignored him as you thought he was being ridiculous. How could she judge you so quickly without even getting to know you?
“I’m going to say hi!” You state with a nod to Chuck. “Do you know her favorite drink?”
You lean against the counter, beaming charmingly at the man. He hesitates as he doesn't want you to get yelled at or scoffed at for even trying.
“I-I don’t know. Sevika’s not… fond of being interrupted during her poker games.”
You blink as you turn back around to watch her shuffle the cards with one clawed and flesh hand, a cigar hanging from her beautiful lips. As much as you wanted to go over there and admire her up close; Chuck was right.
You didn’t want to be rude.
“I’ll just wait until she’s done then,” you nod to confirm.
And that’s what you do. You watch as her opponents angrily toss their forfeit onto the table, muttering curses at the woman. The larger woman keeps her cool composure, a winning smirk on her face. You grin happily at her now empty table, grabbing the drink Chuck had reluctantly handed you to deliver to the woman.
You control the pep in your step as much as you can as you didn’t want to spill the drink. Sevika gathers the coins into her leather pouch when you first approach her table.
“Hi!” You smile warmly.
Sevika, much to your surprise, doesn’t ignore you as Chuck made you believe she would. In fact, she sits back in her seat, her gray eyes trailing up and down your figure as you set down the drink.
“I thought I’d bring you a celebratory drink and introduce myself,” you beam as you clasped your hands behind your back. “You’re Sevika, right?”
And she was even more devilishly charming up close. That was a given but you were able to admire her little marks much closer now. You even noticed blue scars running up the side of her face, trailing down the side of her mechanic arm.
“You’re new, aren’t you?” Sevika hummed as she moved her gaze to your awaiting eyes.
You nod, trying not to burst out with excitement so you wouldn’t scare her.
“I am! Just started a week ago, I think. I saw you when I first started and wanted to go say hi and Chuck told me not to,” you wave off like the man was ridiculous with a lovely chuckle. “Everyone says you’re scary but you don’t seem scary to me.”
Sevika’s eyes had flickered over to the bar where Chuck was avoiding her sharp gaze as you unknowingly ratted him out. She decides to let whatever he said slide and focus on the vision that is you right in front of her.
With one more once over your frame, Sevika actually grins at you.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to scare someone as pretty as you, angel.”
Sevika takes her cigar from her lips to blow out the smoke away from you and reaches across the table to grab the drink. You were obsessed with the way she called you ‘angel’, wanting to hear her voice on a loop forever.
“You think I’m pretty?” You swore your face was stretching due to how much you were smiling.
Sevika hums as she takes a slow sip from the slightly rusted glass.
“The prettiest,” she affirmed your question before leaning in close so she could look you in the eyes, admiring the shimmer over your eyelids. “I hope to see you around.”
You nod with an overwhelming flushed face, practically bouncing on the soles of your shoes. You left the table with an overwhelming amount of confidence. Sevika watched you walk back to the bar counter to gush to Chuck about how nice she was.
That was only the beginning of Sevika’s infatuation with you.
She tried to ignore the bubbling feeling of yearning for you but every time she came into the Last Drop, you were just the sweetest girl to her and never made her feel like just a crime lord. Every outfit you wore had her on the verge of begging on her knees for you to let her make you feel so good because that’s what you deserve.
You asked her random questions about her and her life when you would bring her drinks, slowly emerging into Sevika’s life. Sure, it was the bare minimum and you acted this way with most. But when you stared at her as she spoke, nodding to show you were listening and taking in every word with those lovely eyes, she knew she was fucked.
Within the first month of meeting, Sevika built up the courage to ask you out after your shift at the Last Drop. You, of course, were as sweet about it as ever. After that first date, everything shifted in the bond that you two had made over those weeks.
You quickly learned how obsessed and protective Sevika would be over you. Her arm — mechanic or not — would be draped over your soft hips, signaling to everyone that you were hers.
Word quickly spread about you and Sevika’s relationship.
It seemed like out of the blue the men and women would give you dirty looks and make passive-aggressive comments in the Last Drop became significantly nicer to you as well. When you would beam to Sevika how you all of a sudden started getting tipped more at work, she would congratulate you, showering you with kisses.
Little did you know it was because everyone was afraid to rub you the wrong way and that you would tell the intimidating woman. If you were upset, which was rare, you could guarantee Sevika would be just as upset if not more than you.
Just as she had treated you like the princess she saw you as you were just as loving to her. There was no shocker there as you didn’t seem to have one malicious bone in your body. When you weren’t at work, you were right next to Sevika. Whether it’d be at Silco’s office or helping her babysit Jinx, you’d happily be right by her side to help or just be there for support.
The little blue-haired girl would constantly tease Sevika about being a ‘big old softie’ when you came around. You thought she was the cutest thing and Sevika would simply tell her to shut it.
Like any other day, you were sitting on her lap during her poker games, leaning over her shoulder to stare at the hand she had. The opponents across the table were gawking and staring at you, clearly getting distracted by your beauty and outfits. Even after almost a year of being together, Sevika would get so flustered when you would place a kiss on her cheek or jaw when she won a match. She couldn’t — and would never even try — to hide her love and admiration for you.
She called you your good luck charm as if she hadn’t already become a pro at poker before you popped out of nowhere.
This particular match was different though. Her opponents were ones that you knew — Finn and Smeech. You had seen them a few times when you swung by Silco’s office to drop off some treats for your girlfriend and whoever wanted some as well.
You didn’t mean to but you made eye contact with Finn while you were simply gazing around the surrounding space. His bright luminescent green eyes catch yours and you immediately look away. Sevika notices the tension in your body and clears her throat, her strong arm settling around your waist to try and ease you.
“Your eyes are getting away from your cards, Finn,” Sevika quipped, eyes narrowing for a moment before focusing on your breathing that was picking up.
Her thumb rubbed at the revealed skin. You place a gentle hand on her larger one, trying to distract yourself. Most that were played against Sevika didn’t even dare to look you in the eyes; you were Sevika’s and they knew better.
Turns out, Finn was not aware of this.
“Well, something is distracting me, Sevika.” Finn’s off-putting comment made your stomach turn, looking at you with an almost predatory look.
Sevika’s nostrils flared for a moment, puffing out some of the smoke from the cigar dangling from her lips. Your hand tightened on hers, blinking and looking away from him.
“You sure picked a pretty one,” Finn continued and you looked up at him to see him wink at you. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
You are taken aback by the question, glancing at Sevika as you mutter out your name. Usually, you were able to converse with the opponents to distract them from Sevika with your effortless charm but you wanted to do anything but talk to Finn.
“Focus on the game or get up from the table,” Sevika warns the man.
You hated seeing Sevika get angry as you knew her as anything but. Sure, she was grumpy and had a stone-cold face but she was the most attentive and loyal girlfriend to you.
“Sev,” you whisper to try and ease her clear anger with the man.
Finn chuckles at her obvious irritation with him. Sevika’s lip twitches at the sound and she sucks in a deep breath, glancing down at the hand of cards.
“Are you done or can we get this going?”
You look back at Sevika with an awkward smile. You felt like you were on display at an exhibit with his eyes on you and not in the way that Sevika looked at you.
No, she was so tender and loving with you.
“You know what? I, um, I forgot the muffins I made in the office. I’ll be right back, baby,” you pat her hand that was gripping onto your torso.
Sevika’s gray eyes found your gaze, watching as they anxiously darted from eye to eye. You were uncomfortable. Finn made you feel uncomfortable. From the moment you weakly smiled at her, Sevika knew she had to deal with him the moment you were out of her eye-line.
“Okay, sweet girl. Be quick. Need my good luck charm,” Sevika curtly nodded, plastering on a grin for your sake.
“I’ll be quick. I love you,” you ignore the obvious stares from the two across the table as you lean down to place a lovely kiss on her lips.
The taste of your lips fogs Sevika’s brain for a moment, reluctantly releasing your waist so you can leave her presence. “And I love you.”
You send her one more darling smile before keeping your distance from the two opponents as you make your way to where the office is located. You wave to Chuck as you pass by him handing a drink to Jinx at the bar in her signature cup.
You pat her on the head and flick one of her collarbone-length braids, watching her whip her head to find your awaiting grin. She leans forward to capture the straw between her lips, waving to you. You chuckle at her mean face before she realized it was you.
Sevika watched you walk away until you were completely out of sight before she reached over the table to grab onto the hair on Finn’s head and slammed it down thrice onto the wooden table. Her large hand held him down, watching him struggle to let himself up after the impact it had on his head.
The thud mixed with his pained grunt echoed, the few people within the bar pausing their movements. Objects clattered and chairs scooted to see where the sound came from. She uses her mechanic hand to take the cigar out of her mouth to rest it on the little ashtray that you sculpted for her.
“You really just couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut,” Sevika snarled at the man who was getting small splinters embedded into his skin from the old wood.
“He didn’t mean it,” Smeech proposed after being silent throughout the entire match up until now. Fucking coward, Sevika thought to herself. “We could… work out a deal to make this go away.”
Sevika scoffed as she started up her mechanical arm, the blade within it revealing itself and extending to push against the small jaw of Smeech’s fury face.
“A misunderstanding is all,” Smeech sputtered out, glancing at Finn’s smashed-in face.
Sevika stood up from her seat to grab onto Finn’s hair and ram him up against the nearest wall, head pounding against the tough wood. The man had yet to say a word about his over-the-line actions. A bloody smile was all he wore. Her hand held him up against the wall, her chest heaving from anger and her hand tightening to watch him writhe under her touch.
“Complete forfeit and that’s it. We’re gone. We’ll never look at her again,” Smeech rushed out
“And what would Silco say to this reckless behavior? We’re partners, you know?” Finn coughed out, spitting some of his blood out onto the ground. “Would not be too keen on that now would he?”
Sevika glanced over at Smeech’s trembling figure, carefully lowering her blade. He was right. As much as she wished she could beat his face until it was black and blue, nearing death, Silco would have more than a few words for her. She retracts the blade back into the arm and releases Finn from his throat, watching him pant and rub at the sore area.
“Leave the money,” Sevika grabbed the still-lit cigar and pressed it onto Finn’s free hand when he wasn’t paying attention. He gasped at the burn seeping into his skin, unable to react as Sevika grabbed him by the collar to push him toward the exit. “And get the hell out here.”
Smeech kept his distance as he nodded in understanding of Sevika’s anger. He released a frantic chuckle as he, along with Finn, left the building without looking back. Sevika shook out her hand and stretched a bit. When she takes a look around, the paused customers instantly continue their previous actions.
“Sev?” She hears you call from behind her, your footsteps growing closer. “Wait, what happened?”
Sevika shook her head as she turned to face your confused expression at the now-empty table. She glanced down at the small tray of muffins that you and Jinx made.
“They had places to be.”
“Aww. I was going to give them a muffin to try before they left. They’re not like ones that’d be up in Piltover but I think we did a pretty good job.” You motion to the berry muffins. “Have you tried one yet? I can’t remember.”
Sevika hums with a shake of her head before grabbing one off of the tray.
“Let’s go home, yeah?” She insisted with a hand out for you to take.
You nod happily at her suggestion, intertwining your fingers with yours as you leave out the door of the Last Drop.
Entering Sevika’s apartment, you rambled about the muffins you made. You were yet to notice Sevika practically undressing you with her eyes.
“I just think if you know if I was able to get a different kind of fruit,” you examine one of them in your hand, letting Sevika lead you by your hip around to the kitchen so you could set your muffins down on the countertop. “You know? Next time you have a transportation, can you stop by a fruit vendor or something up there so that I could—”
“Baby,” Sevika chuckles at your rambling as she rests her hands on your waist, squeezing the plush skin to grab your attention.
“Oh, right. Tell me about the rest of the poker game,” you shook your head and patted her bicep, looking up at her with a sweet smile.
Sevika could take you right there and then. She presses a loving kiss onto your lips before using her non-mechanic hand to cup the side of your face, keeping her hunger for you at bay for now.
“Did I ruin it when I left? Is that why everyone was gone when I came back?” You question, your face wincing at the idea that you may have altered the game. “I-I know I was… being distracting to Finn and I didn’t mean to.”
Sevika shook her head at your words, shushing your insecure thoughts creeping into your head.
“No. No, you did nothing wrong. Finn was the one out of line,” Sevika sneered, rubbing her thumb along the apple of your cheek.
“Are you sure?” You checked in one more time.
“Yes, angel. I mean it,” her voice is assertive but reassuring.
You nod, sighing as you lean into the comforting feeling of her palm. The feeling of discomfort from half an hour ago still lingered in your mind. You release an awkward chuckle, staring up at Sevika’s comforting gray eyes.
“I’m sorry. I just never felt that weird before.”
Sevika’s brows furrowed at your confession. Once you realize how depressing you sound, you shake your head as you reach up to cup her stern face, running your thumb over her blue scars. She wished she would’ve just finished Finn off right there and then seeing you contemplate who you are because of him.
“You… are perfect. Everything about you,” Sevika breathed out, leaning in to place kisses on the under of your jaw.
You gasp softly at the feeling, running a hand over the length of her shoulder. Her hand cupped at your neck, her thumb pressing underneath your to get you to tilt your chin upwards. You pant as her lips trail down the length of your neck, barely ghosting her lips to draw the neediness out of you.
It didn’t take much for you to get riled up for Sevika. Because, well, it was Sevika. She learned every spot that drove you wild and made it her mission to take advantage of that.
“I-I’m really okay, Sev,” you assure her but your slack jaw gave away how much you wanted this.
“Do you want me to stop?” She questions, pausing her movements but still heavily panting against your neck.
You shake your head rapidly, hand cursing up the back of her head into her hair.
“No, no. Please don’t.”
And how could she not give you what you want? Especially when you’re so sweet.
“Such a sweet girl, baby,” she breathed out before backing out of the comforting crook of your neck.
You preen at the praise, looking up at her with dazed-out eyes. Your hands were clamped down on the counter behind you, the ledge digging into your back. She traced the wet mark on your skin before delving back into your lips.
You ‘hmph’ at the attack on you but recover quickly, falling into a rhythm against her. Her hands settle back on your waist, her real hand sneaking up your top to run her fingers over your ribcage. You shiver against her, the sound of your lips smacking and the feeling of her tongue grazing over your bottom lip increasing your arousal.
“Wanna get up on the corner for me?” Sevika hums between kisses, her hands gripping at the meat of your thighs.
You nod with a hum, releasing the counter. Sevika lifted you with ease, hoisting you up on the counter. You couldn’t but giggle at the motion, still not being used to the fact that she was that strong. Her muscles were a constant reminder but when she was able to effortlessly move you around, you swore you were on top of the world.
“Need you, Sev,” you whisper against her lips, a smile creeping onto your lips.
Sevika's eyes shut at the sound of you asking for, needing her.
“Say that again, pretty girl,” she mutters as her grip on you tightens.
You smile against her lips as you peck them a few times before tilting your head up at her.
“I need you, baby. Please.”
Sevika released a near growl at your begging for her. She nearly knocks you back onto the counter as her lips find yours once again. Your bodies press up against one another, grinding your crotches. Your eyebrows raise at the bulge in between her legs.
You were not expecting her to be wearing the strap-on around. A pleasant surprise, nonetheless.
Sevika must've noticed you slowing down, pulling away with a slight smirk.
“You want it?” Sevika hummed, slowly grinding the bulge against you once again.
You nod again with greed, clawing at her back. With quick and hurried movements, you helped her move your panties down from underneath your rather short skirt. Sevika runs her hands up the plush of your thighs as her lips kiss your collarbones.
Growing impatient, you take matters into your own hands and reach for the button of her pants. Sevika hummed at the feeling, in fact pushing your hips into your hands to encourage the neediness. You took the strap out of her briefs, not wanting to take the time for foreplay.
You were positive that you were wet enough for Sevika to just ease into you. She chuckles at you angling your hips so she could line herself up to your aching pussy.
“Needy girl,” she teases.
You flush at the mocking, loving any sort of attention she was giving you. Your mind had completely blanked on why you were feeling so weird in the first place. Sevika was all that was able to make its way through your thoughts.
Her rough yet tender hands, her addicting lips, her toned waist, her ever-so-loving voice.
Just Sevika.
“Should’ve killed him for staring at you,” Sevika mutters against your skin. “For talking to you like that, angel.”
You shake your head at her words. “Just want you, Sev.”
Sevika nodded, knowing how much you hated seeing the violence. You, of course, knew it was a part of her job but when you saw people physically get hurt, you could feel it too. You would hate to know someone got hurt on your account.
“I’ll take care of you,” Sevika says out loud as if she’s trying to get herself back on track.
You were a waiting mess for her and she was thinking about killing that fucker. She blinked and looked at you, really admiring every curve of your body. Your hands were running over her broad shoulder, glancing down at the dildo in between you two.
Her hands push your legs apart, a smile growing on her face. You pant as your patience is wearing thin, watching her grab the base end of the strap to glide the tip through your folds. She was still teasing you, an evil smirk on her lips.
“Baby, don’t be mean,” you whine, looking up at her with desperation written all over your face.
Sevika whispers an ‘I’m sorry’, placing a kiss and soft bite underneath your dropped jaw. She held your hips still in place as she carefully inched herself into you. You gasped and moaned at the stretch inside of you. Sevika’s head tilts back as she curses under her breath.
You swore at times she acted like she really could feel you through the strap.
“Fuck,” she groans, humming as she bottoms out inside of you.
Your nails were digging into the scarred skin of her neck, emitting another moan from the woman. Without wasting another second, Sevika, once she was sure you were okay, began thrusting inside of you.
Your tits bounced with every thrust, nearly popping out of your top from movements. Sevika shamelessly watched your face twist in pleasure, your beautiful skin glistening with her saliva from her wet kisses and your sweat.
“Baby,” you moan out, shivering when she thrusts hard up into you.
Sevika grabbed underneath your jaw with her real hand, making you make eye contact with her as she fucked into you.
“My perfect girl,” she praises as her thrusts continue, slapping against your inner thighs.
You preen at the praise, wanting to look away but Sevika wouldn’t let you. Your stomach tightens at your overwhelming fast orgasm approaching. It was creeping up your spine, burning in the best way possible.
“Just like that, baby,” Sevika nodded as she released your face to focus on your soft hips.
Your breathy and whiny moans drive Sevika to speed up her thrusts into you. Your legs were hiked up around her toned waist, brushing deliciously at her v-line.
“Sev, please,” you beg.
For what? You weren’t sure anymore.
“Say you’re perfect. Say it for me, angel,” Sevika groaned as she continued her thrusts inside of you, one of her hands cupping underneath your jaw.
Your mind was foggy, barely able to focus on what she was asking you what to do. Your hips stutter as you try to match the pace of her thrusts.
“I’m… p-perfect.” You sputter through your heavy breathing, reaching and holding onto her strong forearm.
The metal of her mechanic arm made your skin shiver as she shifted your legs to somehow reach deeper into you. Your painted nails dug into her skin as you tried to adjust to the angle change.
“You’re my perfect girl. My angel, my sunshine,” Sevika praises you as her thrusts become sloppier, a shiver running down her spine.
Nothing, not even Shimmer, could compare to the euphoric feeling of being with you like this. Nothing was as addicting as you.
“Yours,” was all you could whimper out.
You were sure your makeup was smudged, most of your eyeshadow faded from the heat exuding from your body. Sevika wouldn’t let you even try to think about anything else but feeling good.
“‘M yours too, angel. Don’t you forget it.”
TAGLIST: @eilishxo @prettydeeryess @hauntedclaudio @maaaaaaaaaaari @prettysuplicant @twlaei @soodle-noup @xayn-xd @fict1onallyobsessed @lamiadrowned @asmrgirll @lovinglynny @kylorey25 @kissyslut @archangeldyke-all
hard sex sev like spanking ass cause shes jealous semi public s3x but sweet sev because that shit drives me crazy
anon... u r so big brained. i hope u like it bb!!
men and minors dni
the beat is thumping in time with your heart as you sway and grind your hips. behind you, sevika is grinding against your ass, her hands gripping your hips, her lips pressing kisses into your exposed neck and shoulder. she nips your skin and you giggle.
"want another drink?" she grumbles into your ear. you nod, turning around in her grip, slinging your hands over her shoulders.
"another one of those strawberry things." you request. sevika nods down at you, her smile growing.
"i'll be right back." she says, pressing her lips to yours in a firm kiss. you grin up at your girlfriend, not yet ready to let her go. you give her shoulders a tug. she raises her eyebrow.
"one more before you go." you demand, pouting up at her. sevika's indulgent smile grows, and she wraps her arms around your waist, pressing your body against hers.
"anything for you, baby." she says, swooping down to kiss you. you hum against her soft lips, swiping your tongue out to give her bottom lip a kitten lick. she growls against you, retching her face away from yours, glaring down at you. "behave." she grunts. you blink innocently up at her and she laughs, stepping backwards, putting some space between the two of you. "i'll be back in a second." she says, kissing the tip of your nose and side stepping your grabby hands. she quickly strides past you, smacking your ass as she makes her way over to the bar. you chuckle and turn to watch her go, the crowd parting for her to pass through the last drop effortlessly.
you make your way off the dance floor back to the sevika's personal booth, not wanting to dance without your girlfriend. you giggle as you plop into the booth, tipsy from the three or four drinks you'd already had tonight.
sevika picked out your outfit-- a sparkly baby blue club dress that barely covers your ass, the neckline plunging low, the back plunging lower. it's a ridiculous scrap of shimmery fabric, but she'd brought it home for you a few weeks ago with a salacious grin, and tonight she had asked very kindly for her to please let her show you off in it. and who were you to deny your girl some fun? plus, the mild discomfort you feel wearing the skimpy dress lessens and lessens with every time you catch her eye fucking you. you tug a strap that had fallen down your shoulder back up.
"hey gorgeous." a voice grumbles out above you. your gaze flicks upward. a lanky man stands above you, his eyes focused on your cleavage. you chuckle.
"no thanks." you say to him. he raises an eyebrow.
"not your type?" he asks. you sputter.
"you could say that." you mutter.
"no?" he asks. "well at least let me buy you a drink." he suggests. you laugh in his face.
"someone's already getting me one." you say. the man frowns, finally looking away from your tits and into your eyes. "left you unattended, looking like that?" he asks, whistling. he sits in the booth across from you. "stupid man, letting a beautiful woman like you out of his sight." this fucking guy. where the hell is sevika? you look over your shoulder at the bar. you can't see her through the crowd. beside you on the booth, something shifts. you look down at your lap. resting beside your thighs on the seat are two scuffed and dirty boots. you roll your eyes.
"i'm going now." you say abruptly, sliding out of the booth before his muddy shoes can dirty your pretty dress. you manage to get halfway to the bar when a hand clamps around your forearm.
"come on, pretty girl. let me buy you a drink." he whines. you blink-- shocked at his audacity.
"get your hands off me." you say. he ignores you, stepping closer to you, his other hand reaching out to touch your waist. you raise your eyebrows at him. "didn't you hear me?" you ask. he grins down at you.
"you don't seem too upset about it, baby." he says. you scoff.
"i'm not you're fuckin' baby." you say, raising your voice, stepping away from the man. his grip tightens.
"no? then whose are you? where's this mystery man you're waitin' for darling? i don't see him here..." his nails dig into your skin and you gasp, one of your hands sliding under your dress to fumble for the knife in a holster on your thigh. you're cut off from pulling your knife when a distinctively cool metallic hand caresses your lower back. your body relaxes instantly, and you give up your struggle against his grip, a smile creeping up your lips as the metal thumb draws circles in your skin.
"she's mine." sevika spits from behind you. your smile turns into a grin as you watch the man gawk. he quickly lets go of his grip on you, stumbling backwards. sevika's arm wraps around your shoulders, her flesh hand pressing your drink into your hands. "here you go, honey." she says, her voice transforming from a growl to a warm rumble when she speaks to you. she presses a kiss to your hair and you sip your drink, grinning as you watch the man before you tremble. "how long's he been botherin' you?" she whispers in your ear. you shrug.
"since you left. put his shoes up by my dress, nearly got it dirty. wouldn't take no for a fuckin' answer." you say, pouting to your girlfriend. she frowns down at you in sympathy, kissing your pout.
"i'll take care of it baby." she says against your lips. you smile. she pulls away from you completely to examine the man in front of her.
"got somethin' you wanna say?" sevika spits. the man blinks at her.
"i'm so sorry ma'am i didn't know she was--" CRUNCH! the man groans and stumbles backwards, gripping his jaw where sevika had just hit him.
"try again." sevika growls.
"i thought she was here alo--" SMACK! sevika backhands him with her mechanical arm.
"wrong again. one more chance." sevika's mechanical arm starts to churn and shift, a shimmer vial popping up at her shoulder. it pauses, ready to descend into her bloodstream at a moment's notice. you giggle in anticipation and pride, sipping on your drink. sevika shoots you a bashful smile at the sound of your giddy excitement. god you love her. her smile drops from her face when she looks back to the man now leaning on a table to stay upright. "so? what's your final guess?" she asks him. his eyes are locked on the sharp claws of her copper fingers.
"i don't know what you want me to say to you! i already said sorry!" he says. sevika sighs and shakes her head.
"they never fuckin' get it, do they baby?" she asks you over her shoulder.
"never." you respond. she shrugs.
"oh well." she says, and in a flash the shimmer plunges into her arm. her copper arm glows to life with the purple substance, her eyes glowing purple, a smile creeping up her face.
"i didn't do anything wrong!" the guy screams. behind him, a few regulars chuckle. this happens on a pretty frequent basis.
"you harassed my fuckin' girl and didn't say sorry to her once." sevika says levelly, reaching forward to grab the collar of the man's shirt with her flesh hand. "you don't think that's a little fucked up?" the man doesn't get to answer, sevika's metallic hand slamming down into his face. he's out cold in an instant and sevika's shoulders slump as he collapses to the floor. "damn. thought he'd have some more fight in him." she says. you giggle behind her. "wasted a fuckin' vial for that." she grumbles, turning back around to face you, her eyes still glowing purple. at the sight of you, she smiles.
"you wanna get outta here?" you ask. "sure we can find some other ways to work that shimmer out of your system." you say suggestively. you watch sevika short circuit for a moment-- freezing, her jaw dropping. then, a smile creeps up her face and she's nodding enthusiastically. you smile, down the last of your drink, then reach your hand out to intertwine your fingers with sevika's mechanic hand.
she drags you through the bar and out the employee exit, depositing the two of you in a dark alleyway. before the door can even shut, she's pressing against you, pushing you roughly against the wall. her flesh hand cups the back of your head before it can smash against the wall, and she uses the grip on the back of your head to tug your face upward so she can stare down at you. she's pressed against you from toe to chest, right hand in your hair, left on your ass, pawing and squeezing with abandon. you shiver as you gaze up at her, her eyes glowing-- not just with shimmer but with lust. she's biting her lip as she studies your face, her eyes jumping from your throat to your lips to your eyes.
"sevika." you whine out. she grins down at you, predatorily.
"so..." she says casually. "whose baby are you, exactly?" she asks. you blink up at her in confusion.
"what?"
"'s what you said to that fuckwad. he called you baby, and you said 'i'm not you're baby.'" sevika raises her voice to a falsetto in imitation of you. you giggle at the bad impression. "so...?" she asks. you grin up at her.
"awe... are you feeling a little jealous, sev?" you tease. she tugs on your hair harshly and you gasp, laughing in surprise.
"fuck off." she says, flustered.
"upset he put his hands on me?" you ask. she nods, her grip on you getting tighter. "why's that, honey?" you ask. finally, sevika snaps. she steps away from your body, spinning you by your hips, then pressing up against you again, pinning your front to the grimy wall, grinding against your ass. you moan.
"god i've been wanting to do this all night." she grunts in your ear, her hands sliding down your hips to grip at the flesh of your thighs, then slowly rising, pushing the hem of your dress higher and higher. "i can't blame him for trying. you're fucking gorgeous." she says reverently. you whimper at the gentle tone she takes with you, before gasping when she smacks your now halfway uncovered ass.
"sev!" you exclaim. she chuckles.
"'s wrong honey?" she asks, pushing your dress all the way up around your waist. you shiver as a cool breeze blows past your exposed legs.
"sevika." you say, squirming against her. she moans, grinding her crotch against your ass.
"where're you trying to run off to, honey?" she asks, her hands clawing your hips, keeping you pinned to the wall as she starts humping against your ass. you shudder. "so?" she asks you.
"what?" you ask, your brain melting out of your ears as she grunts and groans behind you with each thrust.
"whose are you?" she asks. you giggle.
"mmm... not sure." you say. "maybe you should remind m-- ah!" you squeak when sevika's hand smacks against your ass again.
"fuck you." she grunts.
"yes, please." you say. she chuckles.
"nuh uh. i'm gonna cum against you like this, and you're just gonna stand there and take it." she grunts. butterflies erupt in your stomach. "'s a shame you aren't mine-- i always make sure my baby cums first." you whimper.
"sevika--" she smacks your ass a third time and you jump. her grinding and humping pauses, a hand leaving your hip to fumble at her belt and open her fly. "yes, fuck, yes." you stammer out. she chuckles behind you, her hand coming back to your hip to start grinding against you again, this time with just the thin material of her boxers separating her from your exposed ass.
"this fuckin' needy for me to get off on you?" sevika asks. you nod against the brick your forehead is pressed against.
"wanna make you cum." you whisper.
"shit, baby--" sevika's hips stutter, her hand wrapping around your hip to tug on the material of your panties, the wet fabric between your thighs pulling deliciously against your clit.
"oh fuck!" you cry out. sevika hums against you.
"sensitive, honey?" she teases you. you whimper and nod.
"'y gonna come on my ass sev?" you whine. she shudders behind you.
"mmm... yeah. fuckin' close." she grunts. you gulp, reaching a hand down to rest on top of hers on your hip. you try your best to stick your ass out, to press against sevika's hold to give her more friction. she gasps, her cheek pressed against yours. you turn your head to kiss her face.
"'y know i'm yours, baby." you whisper. she whimpers, her forehead falling on your shoulder. "all yours."
"baby--"
"yeah, i'm your baby."
"mine--"
"that's fuckin' right honey, and guess what?"
"wha--?"
"you're mine."
sevika gasps and cums, her teeth biting into the side of your neck to muffle her shout. you shudder at the feeling, nearly delirious from the sweet little whines sevika muffles into your skin as she chases her pleasure.
sevika's thrusts come to a slow halt, and she huffs as she catches her breath. "you okay?" she asks. you giggle.
"i'm fuckin' great. you okay?" you ask. she hums happily into your skin in reply.
"i'll be better when you're cummin' around by fingers." she grumbles. you giggle as her fingers slowly slip into your panties. "oh, baby," she groans when she feels how wet you are, "all for me?" you huff in embarrassment. "don't be shy honey. you should feel how wet you made me." she grunts as she gently draws circles on your clit. you whimper. "want more?" she asks. you nod frantically.
sevika sinks two fingers into your cunt with ease, and you both gasp. she starts fingering you rapidly, squelching sounds bouncing off the walls of the alley as your cunt clenches around her thrusting fingers. "oh shit." you say, your orgasm building already. "shit i'm gonna cum. y' got me so fuckin' worked up cummin' on me like that i-- oh!" you gasp. "right there-- sevika i'm-- please dont st-- ah!" sevika sinks her teeth into you again.
"cum for me baby." she growls. you gasp, freeze, then cum with a wail, shaking and squirting around sevika's thrusting fingers.
"fuck, honey, just like that." she grunts as you soak her hand. "you're so fuckin' good, baby, you're perfect for me." she praises as you shake in her hold. her thrusting stops when your moans die down, and she begins peppering kisses on your skin. "you're amazing." she whispers. you chuckle.
"mmm. lemme turn around." you say. she spins you around, grinning at the sight of your face. you smile up at her, the purple in her eyes is fading, the lipstick on her mouth smudged. her hair is a mess, falling in her eyes, and you giggle, reaching up to push it behind her ears. "hi baby." you say. she swoops down to kiss you, her tongue dips into your mouth, moaning.
"you taste like strawberries." she says dreamily.
"you're so pretty." you whisper up at her. she blushes.
"you're drunk." she says. you nod.
"doesn't mean it's not true." you say. she rolls her eyes and kisses you again.
"come on. let's go home. i got some stuff i wanna do to you that i can't do in this alley." she says. you giggle.
"you're gonna have to give me a second, baby. my legs are still shaking." you say. sevika grins.
Sevika is now a council member, why not make it smut 🤷🏾♀️
- I honestly don’t know how I feel abt this or even the ending of arcane but fuck it btw I have another sev fic i should finish soon. 🤞🏾
“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” You pants, holding Sevika's shoulders as she fervently kisses your neck, pressing you against the table, her breath hot against your skin. "You have a meeting soon, what if someone walks in?"
Sevika pulls back to you, her eyes dark with desire as a mischievous smile plays on her lips. "I don't care, let them," Sevika smirks, lifting you easily onto the table and wrapping your arms around her neck before saying, "You know why? Cause I'm a fucking councillor now, I make the rules, baby.
You giggle at her boldness, unable to push aside the ache growing between your thighs at the possibility of the rest of the council walking in on you. "Please just be quick, Sev," you plead, playing with her hair as she leans in closer, her lips brushing against your jaw.
"I can't promise that, babe," she chuckles, kissing along your jaw as her hands slips under your shirt, pulling you closer.
You can't help but moan softly as she nips and sucks at your neck, moving your head to give her better access as you give in to her touch. Sevika's hands move with urgency, making quick work of your shirt and bra, tossing them to the floor before standing back to get a good look at you.
"Fuck, baby" she breathes, trailing her eyes over your exposed chest with hunger in her gaze. "Take those off for me," she demands, her eyes locked on your every move as you eagerly comply, stripping yourself of your jeans, leaving you in just your underwear. You blush at her staring, shying away slightly before meeting her eyes with a shy smile.
"Stop being shy, c'mere," she murmurs, stepping forward, her hands tracing your waist before settling on your hips. "You’re so fucking hot," she says against your lips making you giggle before pulling you into a passionate kiss, her lips moving hungrily against yours.
Sevika guides you to her designated chair around the table, pulling you onto her lap as she deepens the kiss, her hands resting on the curve of your ass. You wrap your arms around her neck, subtly grinding against her thigh as she kneads your ass, giving you a playful spank. You tuck your head into the crook of her neck, hiding the whimper that escapes your lips as she rubs over the now sensitive skin.
"Don't hide from me, baby," Sevika demands, spanking your ass again, making you gasp. You face flushes as you meet her intense gaze, feeling a surge of arousal at her hands slowly guiding you to grind against her thick thigh. Your clothed clit rubs against your panties, the damp fabric creating a delicious friction that makes you twitch in her lap.
"Oh fuck, Sev," you moan, bunching Sevika's shirt in your fists as you grind harder against her. The feeling of her strong thigh against your throbbing clit fogs your brain, forgetting about the meeting starting soon, only able to think about how badly you want to cum.
"Does it feel good, baby?" Sevika coos, brushing back your hair and holding your face in her hand. You nod, unable to form words, the only sounds escaping your lips being desperate whimpers and cries. "Yeah, you wanna cum for me?"
"Yes, please," you manage to gasp out, your hips faltering when Sevika flexes her thigh against you, increasing the pressure on your throbbing clit. Sevika's hand leaves your face, trailing her fingers down your neck to your tits, teasingly circling your hardened nipples.
You twitch as she pinches the sensitive buds, chuckling softly at your reaction. She leans back in her chair to watch you squirm in her lap, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she taunts, "My meeting starts soon and I would hate to leave you like this." You whimper in frustration, feeling the heat pooling between your legs as Sevika's finger trails even lower.
"No, please, I'm so close," you cry, humping against her thigh desperately. Sevika's grin widens as she pulls your panties up against your dripping core, reveling in the way you writhe and moan under her touch. As your orgasm builds, Sevika guides your hips to move faster, feeling you drip onto her thigh.
"Can I cum, Sevika, please? " you beg, your voice shaky with need as your head drops against her chest, feeling the tension building in your belly.
Sevika chuckles, stroking your hair gently as she whispers, "Of course, baby." With her encouragement, you finally reach the edge, tucking your head in her neck to muffle the cries of pleasure as your body trembles.
As you come down from your high, you face Sevika again, a shy smile on your lips as you give her a quick kiss before getting off her lap with shaky legs. "You need help?" Sevika jokes, watching you stumble slightly before getting up to help.
"I'm good, just need a minute," you pant using the table to steady yourself.
"Let me help," Sevika insists, picking up your clothes and carefully dressing you.
"Thank you," you whisper, once she's done, leaning up to kiss her once more before heading towards the door, "Have a good meeting,” you wink as you exit, running into another council member as you speed down the hall
ੈ✩Street Rat p3✩ੈ
word count: 5.4k
A/N: OKAY HEADS UP- THIS PART FOCUSES PURELY ON STREET RAT, THERE IS ONLY MENTION OF SEVIKA AT THE END MY APOLOGIES!! ANYWAYS- This series is actually becoming one of my biggest pieces of work, I never expected the amount of love this series had started to accumulate, with that being said- I am so grateful for all of the support and encouragement I have been receiving to continue writing and working on this series. thank you everyone for continuing to support me and my writing, I plan to continue to work on this series for as long as the creative juices keep flowing!
warnings: character death, mentions of alcoholism, child abuse, implications of PTSD
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚
The scent of fresh bread and the faint hum of laughter filled the small but cozy home in Piltover. Your mother was at the kitchen table, rolling out dough with practiced hands while your two sisters—Nia, the youngest, and Sera, the middle child—sat nearby, squabbling over some silly game they’d made up. You sat at the edge of the table, carving tiny figures out of leftover wood scraps, the little knife in your hand wobbling slightly as you focused.
"Careful with that, sweetheart," your mother warned, her voice soft but firm. She glanced up from her dough, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Last thing we need is you losing a finger before supper.”
You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “I’ve got it, Mama. Besides, look!” You held up the crudely shaped figurine of a bird, the wings lopsided but unmistakable.
Sera gasped, her eyes lighting up as she leaned over the table. “It’s a crow! Can I have it?”
“No way,” Nia cut in with a smirk, grabbing it first. “She made it for me. Didn’t you?”
“I didn’t make it for either of you!” you huffed, trying to snatch it back, but Nia was quicker.
“Girls,” your mother said, her voice calm but with a warning note that made all of you freeze. She shook her head with a small laugh, brushing flour from her hands. “Honestly, it’s like having three tornadoes in the house.”
You settled back into your chair, muttering something under your breath about Nia being a thief. She shot you a wink, and Sera stuck her tongue out at both of you, her childish laughter filling the room.
For a moment, everything felt perfect.
But perfection never lasted long.
The door creaked open, and the warm, lively air in the room seemed to cool instantly. Your father's heavy boots echoed against the floorboards, a sharp contrast to the light laughter that had just filled the space. His face was flushed, the smell of liquor faint but unmistakable as he stood in the doorway. His eyes, clouded by whatever weighed on him, flicked to each of you before landing on your mother.
She stiffened, the rolling pin in her hands faltering for just a moment before she straightened her posture and forced a smile. “You’re home early,” she said, her voice even but lacking its usual warmth.
Your father grunted, stepping further into the room. “Work ended early,” he said curtly, though his tone carried no satisfaction. His gaze landed on the table, and his brow furrowed at the scattered wood shavings and half-carved scraps. “What’s this mess?”
You flinched slightly but didn’t reply. Nia, ever the bold one, sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “She’s making things, that’s all. It’s not hurting anyone.”
His eyes snapped to her, sharp as a blade. “Did I ask you to speak, Nia?” The tension in the room thickened, and even Sera, usually oblivious to such moods, shrank back in her seat.
“Leave her alone,” your mother interjected softly, stepping between him and the table. Her hands rested on her hips, flour smudged across her apron. “The girls aren’t doing anything wrong.”
Your father’s jaw clenched, his hand twitching at his side as though grappling with some invisible force. He looked at you then, his expression unreadable. “And you,” he muttered, “sitting there wasting time on nonsense. You think those little carvings are going to put food on this table?”
You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. Your throat felt tight, your hands gripping the small knife and wooden bird as though they were your only anchor.
“Mama likes them,” Sera’s small voice piped up, breaking the silence. She sounded hesitant but defiant, her wide eyes darting between the two of you.
“Enough!” he barked, and she flinched, her little hands clutching the edge of the table.
Your mother stepped closer to him, her voice lowering but steady. “That’s enough, Richard. You don’t talk to them like that.”
For a moment, the two of them locked eyes, a silent battle playing out in the space between them. Then, with a growl of frustration, he turned away, stomping toward the small sitting room without another word.
The silence he left behind was deafening.
Your mother let out a slow breath, smoothing her apron as she turned back to the table. “Girls,” she said softly, her voice strained but kind. “Why don’t you take your things and go play in the other room?”
Sera slid out of her chair immediately, clutching her little game pieces. Nia hesitated, her defiant gaze lingering on the doorway where your father had disappeared. Then she grabbed your arm, pulling you up. “Come on,” she whispered, her voice a mix of annoyance and protectiveness.
You followed, clutching the bird tightly in your hand. As the three of you retreated to the small bedroom you shared, the faint sound of your mother’s voice could be heard again, calm and soothing as though trying to mend what had just unraveled.
Nia shut the door behind you, leaning against it with a scowl. “He’s such a—” She cut herself off, glancing at Sera, who was quietly settling on her cot. “...a grump,” she finished lamely.
You sat on your own cot, turning the wooden bird over in your hands. Its lopsided wings suddenly seemed so silly, so pointless. But then Sera crawled up beside you, her big eyes hopeful.
“Can I have it now?” she whispered.
You hesitated, glancing at Nia, who shrugged with a small smile. “Go on,” she said. “Let her have it.”
With a sigh, you handed the bird to Sera. Her face lit up, and for a moment, the weight in your chest lifted.
Outside, the muffled sound of raised voices carried through the thin walls, but here, in this tiny shared space, the three of you held onto each other and the fragile threads of something better.
“Why doesn't Mama do anything about Dad?” Nia asks, your stomach churning at the thought.
“Because dad is a big pile a shi-”
“Sera!-” you hiss softly, Sera throwing her hands up in defiance, “What?! it's true!”
She- wasn't wrong…
suddenly a loud crash out what sounded like a glass bottle being broken, and your father’s unmistakable booming slurred voice…
The sound of shattering glass tore through the thin walls like a gunshot, making all three of you jump. Sera scrambled closer to you, clutching the wooden bird like it was a talisman. Nia's face darkened, her jaw clenching as she moved instinctively toward the door, though you reached out to grab her arm.
"Don't," you whispered, your voice shaking. "Just stay here."
But it was too late. Your father's voice followed the crash, loud and venomous, each word landing like a blow.
"This house is a goddamn disaster!" he roared. "I work all day—all day—and this is what I come home to? Mess everywhere, screaming kids—" His words slurred slightly, the alcohol in his system making him stagger as he continued his tirade.
"Richard, lower your voice," your mother said sharply, her calm tone replaced by steel. It wasn’t a request; it was a warning.
"Oh, don’t start with me, Marie," he snapped back. "Don’t you dare. I told you, I never wanted this! Never wanted—" His words faltered as his frustration boiled over into a bitter laugh. "Three kids crawling underfoot, a house that looks like a pigsty, and you just standing there!"
There was a pause, and then your mother’s voice, quieter now but firm. "I’m doing the best I can, Richard. We all are."
"The best you can?" he mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The best you can is a filthy house and three brats who don’t know how to stay out of the way?"
Nia moved to the door again, her fists balled at her sides. "I’m not just gonna sit here and—"
You pulled her back, your stomach twisting painfully. "Please, Nia," you begged. "He’s drunk. You can’t reason with him when he’s like this."
Nia’s lip curled, but she stayed put, though you could feel the tension radiating off her.
"Why didn’t I listen to my gut?" your father continued, his voice rising. "I told you I wasn’t cut out for this. But no, you just had to have a family, didn’t you? And now look where we are. I’m breaking my back out there, and for what? To come home to this circus?"
You heard your mother take a step forward, her voice unwavering even as the air seemed to crackle with tension. "You don’t get to speak to me like that. Or them."
"Oh, don’t play the saint, Marie," he sneered. "You wanted this life. You wanted these kids. Don’t act surprised when I remind you that I didn’t."
Your stomach turned violently, his words cutting deeper than they should have. You weren’t even in the same room, but it felt like a punch to the chest. You glanced at Sera, who was curled into a ball on your cot, silent tears slipping down her cheeks.
Nia looked like she was ready to explode. "He’s such a coward," she hissed under her breath. "Blaming everyone else for his own damn choices."
The argument outside raged on, your mother standing firm against his drunken anger. But you couldn’t hear the words anymore. It was all just noise, a storm you’d heard too many times before.
You swallowed hard and turned to your sisters, your voice shaky but as steady as you could manage. "We just…we wait it out. Mama’s got this. She always does."
Though, even the hope that your thoughts were true always seemed to be smushed out by the your father as another glass bottle shattered downstairs followed by incoherent yelling.
You couldn't take it anymore, “Sera, Nia, I swear to the gods, stay here…” you commanded before slipping out of the room. What could a 7 year old do? Kick at your father's legs until he finally stopped?
As you carefully made your way down the stairs there you saw it- your mother's nose bleeding, fear , unmistakable in her eyes. Your father, his movements sluggish and messy as he leaned down close to her face, whispering something into her ear that you worried about as your mother's eyes widened.
“Dad, stop it!” You finally squeak out, stepping out near him as your body shakes slightly from the anxiety facing him caused.
Your father's head snapped toward you, his bloodshot eyes narrowing in disbelief at your audacity. His towering frame cast an imposing shadow across the dimly lit room as he stumbled toward you, the jagged neck of a broken bottle clutched in his hand.
"And what the hell do you think you're doing, huh?" he slurred, his voice booming as he waved the bottle in your direction. His steps were unsteady, but his anger burned clear as day. "Think you can just come down here and tell me what to do, little girl?"
You flinched as the sharp edges of the bottle caught the light, but you held your ground, even as your knees trembled and your breath came in shallow gasps. “Leave her alone!” you cried, your voice cracking but defiant. “Y-you’re scaring her! You’re scaring all of us!”
Your words seemed to strike a nerve. He sneered, his lips curling into something cruel and mocking. “Oh, so now I’m the bad guy, huh? That’s rich. Big man comes home to this wreck of a house, and I’m the one who’s scaring people?” He stepped closer, pointing the jagged bottle at you with every word, his anger unfocused but dangerous.
You instinctively backed up, your heart pounding so hard it drowned out the sound of your mother’s shallow breathing behind him. But you forced yourself to keep his attention on you. "It’s not her fault!" you blurted out, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “She’s doing everything, and you’re— you’re just making it worse!”
His expression darkened, and for a terrifying moment, you thought he might strike you. His grip on the bottle tightened, his knuckles white, and his face contorted into something almost inhuman.
"Don’t you dare talk to me like that," he snarled, his voice low and dangerous now. "You don’t know a damn thing about what I do for this family. You think it’s easy, huh? Keeping a roof over your ungrateful little heads? You don’t get to judge me, you—"
He took a wild step toward you, and you stumbled back, your hands outstretched as if that alone could keep him at bay. “I’m not judging you!” you yelled, your voice breaking. “I just— I just want you to stop! Please, Dad, just stop!”
For a split second, his expression faltered, a crack in the armor of his rage. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that all-consuming fury. He raised the bottle slightly, and your breath caught in your throat.
“Richard!” your mother’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding despite the tremble in her tone. She had risen to her knees, blood still dripping from her nose, her eyes blazing with defiance. “If you take one more step toward her, so help me, I’ll—”
Her threat was cut out by the sound of your cry- your father hitting your face with the already broken glass, ripping open your lip…
Your breath was shallow, hands dabbing at your lip, feeling if the blood was real- it was, warm, fresh blood…
The room seemed to hold its breath, and then, with a guttural growl, he turned and hurled the broken bottle against the far wall. The shattering sound was deafening, and you flinched again, your hands flying up to shield your already bleeding face.
“Worthless,” he spat, stumbling toward the door. “All of you. Worthless.”
And then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him. The silence he left in his wake was suffocating.
Your mother was on her feet in an instant, rushing to your side and pulling you into a trembling embrace. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” she whispered, her hands frantically checking you for injuries.
You shook your head covering your lip with your hand, shielding what he did to you from your poor mother, though your tears betrayed you. “Mama, your nose…”
She wiped at the blood with the back of her hand, shaking her head. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Her voice wavered, but her arms around you tightened, as though she could shield you from the world with her embrace alone.
Nia appeared at the top of the stairs, her face pale and full of worry, with Sera peeking out from behind her. None of you said a word, but the unspoken understanding between you all was clear: this wasn’t the last storm you’d weather, but at least, for tonight, you had survived.
–
Your father had never come back after that, good riddance you had told yourself time after time you and your family were better off with him gone forever, but- it always made a strange sting shoot up your chest anytime you thought of your father.
You hated it.
Today was like any other day, Nia and Sera sleeping in per usual, they had always poked fun at you for waking up so early even on weekends but you enjoyed the quietness of Piltover when most of the city was still asleep, dreaming of great inventions, it was a sweet thought.
“Mouse, darling,” your mother called from the kitchen, making you perk up from your post on the couch, where you had been tinkering with a broken watch your father had. He never wore it, a present from you when you still saw him as a good man, when he was sane.
“Yes, Mama?” you called back, setting down the watch and walking into the kitchen where she was making breakfast for you and your sisters, “Could you run to Mrs.Namitte’s shop and grab me a fresh cut of sweetbread? You know how much your sisters love it.”
You nodded softly, grabbing her pouch of money and running out the house and down the street.
The air of early morning in Piltover was crisp and cool, carrying the faint metallic tang that always seemed to linger in the city. The streets were still quiet, most of the noise coming from the distant hum of steam-powered machinery and the occasional clatter of hooves against cobblestone as a carriage rolled by. The sky above was a pale gray, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting soft golden light across the sprawling cityscape.
Your neighborhood was tucked in one of Piltover’s less glamorous corners, a place where the buildings leaned together like old friends whispering secrets. The houses were a mix of brick and wood, patched up with whatever materials people could find, giving them a mismatched charm. Laundry lines crisscrossed above the narrow streets, sagging slightly under the weight of damp clothes left to dry.
Despite the modest surroundings, there was a warmth to the area. You passed the Grelle family’s house, their windowsills overflowing with flowerpots that brought splashes of color to the otherwise muted street. Mrs. Grelle herself waved at you from her stoop, her ever-present knitting needles clicking away even this early in the day.
“Morning, Mouse!” she called, using the nickname everyone seemed to have adopted from your mother.
“Morning, Mrs. Grelle!” you replied, offering a quick wave as you hurried past.
As you moved closer to the heart of the district, the streets widened slightly, the humble homes giving way to small shops and stands. This part of Piltover always smelled like fresh bread and coal smoke, the two scents mingling oddly but not unpleasantly. The cobblestones here were worn smooth by countless footsteps, their surfaces gleaming faintly with morning dew.
You passed a blacksmith’s forge where the faint glow of embers illuminated a young apprentice already hard at work, his hammer ringing against hot metal. Across from him, a tinker’s shop displayed delicate clockwork creations in the window, the tiny gears inside the contraptions turning with almost hypnotic precision.
It wasn’t long before you reached Mrs. Namitte’s shop, a cozy bakery nestled between a fabric store and an apothecary. The front of the bakery was adorned with peeling paint and a crooked sign that read Namitte’s Sweetbreads and Pastries, but the smell wafting from the open door was enough to make anyone’s mouth water. The aroma of sugar and warm bread enveloped you as you stepped inside.
Mrs. Namitte herself was bustling around behind the counter, her gray hair tied back in a neat bun. Her round face lit up when she saw you. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite early bird!” she greeted, her voice warm and cheerful. “What can I get for you this morning, Mouse?”
You couldn’t help but smile as you handed her the pouch of coins. “Mama sent me for some sweetbread. She said to get it fresh.”
Mrs. Namitte laughed, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron. “Fresh is all we’ve got here, darling. One loaf coming right up.”
While she wrapped up the loaf in parchment, you glanced around the shop. The shelves were lined with all kinds of baked goods—flaky pastries, golden-brown loaves, and rows of sweet buns dusted with powdered sugar. There was something comforting about the place, from the warmth of the ovens to the faint crackle of the firewood.
“Here you go,” Mrs. Namitte said, handing you the loaf with a wink. “Tell your mother I said hello.”
“Thank you!” you said, clutching the warm package to your chest as you stepped back out onto the street.
The city was beginning to wake now, the quiet hum growing louder as more people emerged from their homes. Shopkeepers were setting up their stands, calling out to passersby to come see their wares. Somewhere in the distance, the sharp whistle of a steam engine pierced the air, a reminder of the bustling innovation that Piltover was known for.
You hurried back toward home, weaving through the growing crowd, the warmth of the bread against your hands and the thought of your family waiting for breakfast spurring your steps. Despite everything, mornings like this made Piltover feel a little less overwhelming, a little more like home.
Though on your way home, something felt- off. The air wasn't as clear as you remembered, the smell of- sulfur filling the air.
Your pace quickened naturally, worry bubbling in your stomach as you broke into a sprint when you saw smoke rolling into the air- from your neighborhood.
The smell of sulfur grew thicker with every breath you took, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. Your feet pounded against the cobblestone streets, urgency pulsing through your veins. Something was wrong—deeply wrong. The usual hum of the city was overshadowed by something darker, the sounds of distant shouting blending into the eerie quiet of the morning.
As you turned the corner and saw the familiar stretch of houses, your heart dropped into your stomach. Smoke billowed into the sky, dark and choking, swirling in a heavy cloud that turned the morning light to an unnatural, sickly shade. The distant crackle of fire mixed with the angry yells, the harsh metallic clinking of enforcer armor, and the shouts of voices you couldn’t quite make out.
The panic in your chest rose with every step, the pressure of something terrible bearing down on you. Your eyes darted from side to side as you searched for any sign of your family, of your mother and sisters.
"Mom!" you screamed, voice hoarse as you ran faster, your heart thrumming painfully against your ribcage.
You reached the end of the street, but the sight before you made your blood run cold. Flames had already devoured much of the neighborhood, crackling hungrily, the heat enough to make the air shimmer. Buildings you’d passed countless times were now nothing more than burning husks. The fire had spread so quickly—too quickly.
And then, you saw them.
Your mother, her figure smaller than you remembered, clutching Sera to her chest, while Nia was pulling at your sister’s hand, urging her to run. They were running, your family running toward you—but the fire… the fire was so close. The flames were creeping toward them, licking at the edges of the houses, curling up the sides of the wooden beams like snakes eager to strike.
"Run!" you screamed again, desperation clawing at your throat. Your voice was barely audible over the roaring fire and chaos, but they heard you. They saw you.
Your mother’s eyes locked with yours. Her face was streaked with ash and dirt, her lips parted as though she were about to call your name, but no sound came out. It was as if time itself had slowed, the world around you muffled, like you were watching from underwater. She stumbled, clutching Sera tighter, her face stricken with fear, and then—then, the ground shook beneath you.
The house—your home—collapsed in a deafening crash. The roof caved in first, the thick beams splintering like matchsticks. The explosion of debris sent dust and ash into the air, blurring your vision. The shriek of wood splintering was followed by an unbearable silence that stretched on for what felt like hours.
For a moment, you thought you might’ve imagined it. Maybe you were still dreaming, or maybe, somehow, you could still reach them. But when the dust settled, there was nothing but the rising smoke, the blackened silhouette of the house that had been your home.
Your body went numb, your feet frozen to the ground as you stared at the place where your family had stood moments ago. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding so loud it was a drumbeat in your ears. You wanted to scream, to run to them, but you couldn’t. Your legs wouldn’t move, and the world seemed to stop spinning around you.
"Nia... Mama..." The words slipped out of your mouth, barely a whisper. You felt the sting of tears at the corner of your eyes, but they refused to fall.
The crackle of fire was the only sound now, louder and more ominous than ever. The flames had consumed everything in their path.
And then, the faintest flicker of movement caught your eye—an enforcer, their armor gleaming like a dark shadow, standing at the edge of the destruction. They had their back turned, focused on the chaos unfolding around them, the violence, the fire. They hadn’t seen the wreckage they’d left behind. They didn’t even notice you standing there.
But you saw them.
The anger and helplessness surged inside you, cold as ice. The world had taken everything from you—the life you knew, the people you loved. And in that moment, as the tears you had been holding back finally streamed down your face, the burning rage started to take root deep within you.
You woke with a sharp inhale, eyes wide and fearful, looking around your makeshift home as you panted, chest heaving, anxiety rising in your chest as you tried to calm down.
Just a dream, just a dream
It had felt more real than last time, the nightmares getting stronger each time. You groaned softly as you sat up in your cocoon of blankets and rugs, rubbing your temples as you tried to ease your mind.
You grab your bag, throwing it over your shoulder haphazardly as you make your way down the fire escape and down onto the dirty streets you had come to know.
The streets of the Undercity had a familiar hum to them, the constant murmur of distant voices, clanging metal, and the occasional shout or crash. The air was thick with the smell of burning coal, stale sweat, and something far less pleasant that you couldn’t quite name. It felt like the UnderCity’s grime had seeped into your skin and never really left. Even now, as you walked among the wreckage of your life, it was all too familiar.
You rubbed at your eyes, trying to shake the vivid nightmare from your mind, but it clung to you like the oppressive fog that hung over the slums. The tightness in your chest wouldn’t loosen, no matter how many times you breathed in deeply. They weren’t real. Your family wasn’t gone. The fire hadn’t happened. It was just a haunting memory, a shadow of something that almost was.
But it felt real. And that was the worst part of it. It had always been the worst part of the nightmares—how everything felt so tangible, so vivid. You could hear Nia’s laugh. You could smell your mother’s perfume. The way your father’s hands had felt around your throat when he was angry. The weight of the grief that pressed into your chest when you realized they were all gone. All gone—and I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
It was enough to make you want to curl up in a corner and block it all out. But you couldn’t. Not today. You didn’t have the luxury of slowing down and feeling sorry for yourself.
The undercity didn’t wait for anyone.
You adjusted your bag, the weight of the various trinkets and scraps that filled it dragging at your shoulders as you walked. Your hands fidgeted, feeling the bruises that had yet to fade, the remnants of a life spent scraping by, of fights you’d won and lost. At least I’m still here. That was the only consolation you had left. Even if everything else felt wrong. Even if you felt broken inside, even if you were more scared than you let anyone see, you were still breathing.
You wandered through the streets, passing by familiar faces, the other street rats that wandered the same alleys you did. Some ignored you. Others gave you a glance that was too sharp to be friendly. Keep your head down. Don’t make waves. Stay small.
You didn’t really know where you were going; your feet carried you through the maze of metal and trash, through forgotten corners of the UnderCity that no one cared about. Places like these held their own kind of loneliness—like a pocket of emptiness that even the brightest fire couldn’t warm.
Your stomach growled—loudly, obnoxiously. That was the problem with skipping meals, trying to scrape by on what you could find, or what you could steal. Your pride didn’t let you ask for help.
You groaned under your breath, reaching for your pouch to see how much you had left. A couple of cogs, a piece of broken glass you’d picked up somewhere, and some scraps of fabric that you had meant to sell, but hadn’t found a buyer for yet. Not exactly what you would call a hearty meal.
And that’s when you saw him.
A figure, hunched over in the alley ahead, fiddling with something. At first, you didn’t think much of it—another one of the city’s forgotten wandering souls. But something about the way he was moving caught your eye. It was the faint glint of metal against his hands, the way he seemed to be... repairing something?
You slowed, instinctively drawn to him, curiosity beating out caution for once. Your gaze locked onto the object in his hands, a small but delicate mechanical piece, a gear. You had seen something like it before—a few times, in fact. Was this... another tinker?
You took another step closer, and that’s when he noticed you. The stranger’s eyes flashed up, meeting yours for the briefest of moments before he quickly looked back at the gears in his hands.
Something about his demeanor made you pause, an unease settling in your gut. He's watching me too closely. But you couldn't place why, or even if you should care.
The silence between you two lingered for a beat, before he spoke in a voice rough with disuse. "You need something, kid?"
You hesitated for a moment, still unsure of what to make of him, before you nodded slowly. “I could use a meal.”
The man scoffed, flicking the gear in his hands one last time before tossing it to the ground, where it clattered against the pavement. He dusted off his hands before standing up fully, revealing his thin frame beneath a worn-out coat. His hair was messy, unkempt, his face haggard with the years of life lived under these same grimy skies. "Ain't no charity here, kid. You gotta earn your keep."
You winced at his words, but something in his tone stirred a defensive response in you, but- you bit your tongue.
Keep your head down, stay out of trouble
Those were the rules.
You fucking hated those rules.
You just turn away and walk off, you don't need to get into another fight, didn't need Sevika telling you off for not being careful enough.
Speaking off Sevika, you hadn't seen her in awhile, a week or two now. Where was she?
You found yourself searching for her, not really sure why you were, why bubbles of worry formed in your stomach. You checked her usual spots, the alleys where she played cards, the food booths where you two got food from time to time, you asked a few regulars if they had seen her, to no avail.
You shouldn't care, she was only a asset to you, a small help when you were at your lowest and yet-
You felt like you had found something.
Something that felt real, or at least as real as it gets in the Undercity.
You needed to find Sevika.
MASTERLIST
A shoulder to lean on
Thomas Shelby
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Complete
bounded by business (2)
part one here!
peaky blinders x fem!reader, thomas shelby x fem!reader
type: fluff/angst(?)/smut(ish)
summary: a second class powerful gang in the south of london reaches out too a strong working class gang in the south east of birmingham for a union. Whilst the wedding takes place, unwanted guests break in, causing the newly wedded couple to panic.
timeline: preferably at the start of season 2, maybe even before, but after grace’s betrayal. (Arthur is not married to Linda yet.)
warnings: swearing, gang talk, arranged marriage, weapons, kissing, toxic uncle(?), mention of cheating bf, violence, mentions of blood, reader getting sh, mentions of slight sexual interaction, smoking, drinking, brief mentions of guests getting high,
note: guys i apologise if the wedding isn’t correctly done as i am brown, and i don’t often go to weddings outside my culture, however, i have tried my hardest by following how weddings within the show went including some research. i highly apologise! thank you💗
masterlist.
requests are open❗️
Three days have passed since the meeting with the Peaky Blinders. It’s rather late and you’re at one of the posh pubs your family owns, drinking away the sorrows for the next day. Tomorrow’s the day you’re dreading. Oh how you’d rather get thrown in the cut than marrying some man that threatens to cut people with razor blades - a man you barely know.
“It’ll be alright,” you hear your best friend say, placing her drink down, snapping you out of your little daydream, offering comfort by giving you a little side hug. “He’s probably not as scary as you think.”
“(best friend’s name), He’s feared by the whole of Birmingham.” you speak in an obvious tone, turning your head to face her, raising your brows.
She, smiles, clearly amused. Whilst pressing her lips against the glass of wine, she teases, “Looks like you’ve done your research on your soon-to-be-husband.”
That earned her a wack on her waist.
“Ow!”
“Shush.” you remark, smirking lightly, watching her playfully glare at you from the corner of your eye, whilst sipping on your wine.
“I am NOT doing this!” you yell out, pushing away from your uncle and mother who are practically dragging you into the church.
“y/n you’re marrying him whether you like it or not!” your uncle growls out harshly, anger fueling his eyes, grabbing onto your arm again, harder than before.
“Mum!” you whine out, moving your pissed gaze from your uncle towards your mother.
“y/n, darling, just do this for your dad, you know how bad he wanted you to get married.” she calmly and sympathetically answers with, unlike what your uncle is doing. Your father died in the war, by an unexpected bombing attack from the German troops.
Trying to resist your uncle’s harsh grip, who’s attempting to get you into the church without messing your gorgeous white gown, flawless makeup and hair, you snap a light remark towards your mum, “I’m sure he would have actually wanted me to marry someone I love, not some wannabe gangster who waves his razor around.”
“Well that ‘wannabe gangster who waves his razor around’ provides you protection.” your uncle interrupts your mum from speaking, mocking your words, raising his voice towards you, “My brother- your father, would rather have wanted a man who’d protect you till his last breath than a guy who cheats on his girlfriend with a whore!”
You want to say something back, but the mention of Andrew stung, you thought you’ve drank the pain away, but of course, it’s still there.
“Now you’re going to fucking go into that church and marry him.” he yells in fury, pushing you towards the church harshly, each word being spat with anger, there’d be no surprise if the people inside the church heard, “I don’t want you causing any of your fucking scenes in there, you understand? No fights, no arguments, i don’t want any of that shit!”
When he hears no response, he snaps, scaring you,
“Do you understand?!”
Your mum shoots you a warning look, both of you knowing that if you don’t respond, he’d drag you in by your hair that has been curled gracefully by your older sister.
“I understand.” you softly mutter through gritted teeth.
“Now get in.” he pulls your arm, dragging you towards the church, your mother following behind.
“Tommy there’s still time y’know,” John mutters to his older brother, who’s stood at the alter, “You barely even know the woman! Who knows, she could probably one of those fuckin’ pointless activists?”
“John, listen to me, yeah? We might not know what she’s like, but are we going to drop a really fucking good deal over some woman, aye?” Thomas raises his brows at his younger brother.
“But Tommy-” John starts, however getting stopped when he notices you beginning to walk down the aisle. The younger Shelby sighs, cursing under his breathe, moving himself away from Thomas and towards Esme.
As the ceremony begins, everyone hushes down, watching you and your uncle, who’s masked his irritation, walking down the aisle, your veil coving your face, disguising your fury which you’re trying to stop from releasing, for the sake of the wedding. You keep your eyes low, avoiding everyone’s gaze.
Now stood infront of the Altar, your uncle passes you to the feared brummie gangster you’re forced to marry, you feel his thick, calloused hands taking your slimmer soft ones carefully, as if you’re glass that can be easily shattered. Those same hands now lift your veil up, revealing your neatly done makeup which is applied onto your soft, pretty, gorgeous face. His piercing blue eyes study you, yet keeping a stern expression, making you feel interrogated. Your gaze can’t help but lightly examine Thomas in return, noticing the way his expensive suit decorates his muscular build.
Breaking away from your gaze, both you and Thomas now turn, facing Jeremiah Jesus - a close friend of the Shelby’s.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together in holy matrimony, Thomas Michael Shelby and (reader’s full name).” Jeremiah speaks aloud, “Thomas Micheal Shelby and (reader’s full name), have you come here to enter into a marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”
“I have.” Tommy replies, beside you, in his usual raspy tone. Jeremiah’s eyes now land on you, as you haven’t said your confirmation.
“I have.” you mutter carelessly, looking away.
Jeremiah then lightly nods, “Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and to honor eachother for as long as you both shall live?”
“I am.” you both now say, you now wanting to get this shit over with.
“Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.” Jeremiah continues, watching how both you and Tommy hold hands.
“I, Thomas Micheal Shelby, take you, (reader’s full name), to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. To love you and to honor you all the days of my life.” Tommy states his vows, repeating after Jeremiah, in a stern, cold tone, with his usual brummie accent, staring down at you, his piercing blue eyes glued onto you.
“I, (reader’s full name), take you, Thomas Micheal Shelby, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. To love you and to honor you all the days of my life.” the vows come out your mouth, unwillingly, not wanting to have come out of your plump lips. You return his stern look he gives you.
Jeremiah then continues on with his speech, finishing off with 'Amen'. He then sprinkles the wedding rings, that bound you with Thomas, with holy water, handing one to you and to Thomas.
“(reader’s full name), receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and the Son, and the holy spirit.” the feared Birmingham gangster announces the vows Jeremiah indicates him to say, as he places the wedding band onto your left, ring finger, sliding it on.
“Thomas Micheal Shelby, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and the Son, and the holy spirit.” you repeat the words, failing to hide your light annoyance as you place the wedding band onto Thomas’ left, ring finger.
“Now let us humbly invoke God's blessing upon this bride and groom, that in his kindness he may favor with his help those on whom he has bestowed the Sacrament of Matrimony.” Jeremiah states to everyone within the church, “In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife. The husband may now kiss the bride!”
As Jeremiah speaks the last sentence, your now husband, carefully cups your face, bringing his face closer towards yours, pressing a kiss onto your lips, instantly melting into it, you hesitantly place your hands onto the nape of his neck, closing your eyes, the kiss now turning quite intimate. Cheers erupt.
“Alright, calm down you both, no need to eat eachother up, you’ve got a whole house to do that shit in!” a deep, joy fall teasing voice erupts behind Thomas, snapping you both out of eachother’s mouths, seeing the owner of the voice, Arthur, smirk. You pull away from him, your brownish pink shaded lipstick now lightly smudged onto his lips, looking away, moving your gaze around, seeing your uncle nod lightly - in approval - his stern facade still remaining. As you look around, your eyes then land on a couple of Spanish lads, rivals of yours,
they surely weren’t on the wedding list.
“Right everyone, let’s get the fuckin’ family photo done!” Arthur yells aloud, snapping you out of your train of thoughts, making everyone get outside the church, where the wedding photo is meant to be taken.
As both yours and Thomas’ family gather around you both, infront of the camera, Arthur bellows for space to be made, guiding the less important guests away from the camera. You then look towards the field on your right, the same group of unknown Spanish men huddled together, seemingly discussing something suspiciously. Unexpectedly, you get pushed, loosing your balance on your heels, you fall into your husband. He quickly reacts by grabbing your waist, letting the cigar be held with his lips, holding you upright as you regain balance.
“Alright?” you hear him ask you, through the cigar, softly, yet his Birmingham accent present, looking down at you.
“Yeah, thanks...” you mutter, your light London accent contrasting his, as you straighten yourself, avoiding to look at him, still stubbornly furious at this wedding.
The rest of both families now finally find places to stand for the photograph. As the photographer announces the photo will be taken, Thomas snakes his arm around your waist, catching you off guard as he pulls you closer to him, your arm unconsciously resting onto his back, hand placed onto your shoulder. The Spanish men depart, moving away from others, you notice and can’t help but feel a hint of panic growing within you, you weren’t aware of their presence being made at the wedding.
As the photographer states that the photo has been taken, both families now disperse, mingling with each other. You notice how John and your younger brother getting along, having a laugh with one another. Yet your mind is still on those group of lads.
Family and friends now gather around you - same with your husband, you feel arms wrap around you in a friendly hug, you then notice it's your best friend, your chosen bridesmaid.
“I told you it'll be alright.” she mutters into your ear.
Unable to hide your light smile, you step back, letting go of her. “Don't get too full of yourself.” you mutter back, teasingly. She now moves to the side, as your mother embrace you. “Your father would be proud.” your mum states, cupping your face, smiling lightly.
You smile very lightly, placing your hands upon your mothers. “For dad.” you mutter.
Time passes, family and friends congratulate the newly weds. Finally, your uncle approaches, patting Thomas on the back, congratulating him and the rest of the Shelby family, the rest of your family following along on bidding their now in-laws a congrats, the Spanish not to be seen.
After a while, the party makes their way to the Arrow House for the reception. Thomas makes his way towards you, placing his hand on the low of your back, guiding you towards the chariot.
“Let's take you to your new home, aye?” he says as he helps you up into the chariot.
“I can get on it myself.” you snap lightly towards him, refusing his help, causing his corner of his lip to curl upwards into a very tiny smirk.
The ride to the Arrow House was silent. As the chariot approaches your new home, you can't help but notice how gorgeous the victorian house is. You look up mesmerised by the beauty. Thomas notices but doesn't say anything, instead he gets off the carriage and puts his hands out to help you down, which at first you refused to take, until you realised your wedding dress weighs you down, giving you a high chance to face plant the floor. Stepping into the house, you look around, captivated by its stunning decor, looking at the paintings with decorate the walls. The wedding party follows behind, cheering and laughing with one another.
“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Shelby.” you hear an older woman say, you turn your head to where the voice was coming from, realising it was a maid.
“Is everything set, Frances?” he mutters, exhaling smoke.
“Yes, Mr. Shelby.” she replies.
Everyone settles in, music erupts in the hall, couples singing and dancing, getting drunk and high. You observe around the room, figuring out where the Spanish lads have wondered off too.
A woman, seeming a couple of years younger smiles at you, “Welcome to the Family.” she passes you a glass of irish whiskey. “I'm Ada, Ada Thorne, Tommy's younger sister.”
You gladly take the whiskey offered to you, taking a long needed sip, “Thanks, Ada, i'm y/n I/n-”
“Shelby.” Ada corrects, a light smirk plastered on her face as she sips on her own glass of whiskey.
“Oh don’t worry, darling, you’ll be hearing ‘Mrs.Shelby’ all the time, it’ll stick.” an older woman speaks, smirking at you, standing next to Ada, sipping on her champagne.
Ada then speaks up, gesturing over to the woman beside her who looks you up and down, “This is Aunt Polly.”
“If Tommy ever lays a finger on you, or even says or does something horrible, you come straight to me.” Aunt Polly added in a strong womanly tone, “I’ll sort the man out.”
You and Ada let out a light chuckle.
“Pol, you’re making him seem like he’s fucking crazy!” Ada states.
As you’re in a commotion with the two shelby’s, drifting the worry caused by the Spanish off your mind, giggling whilst drinking, your older sister and your 5 year old niece, walks over to you. Your niece then smiles up at you, embracing you, you lift her up, and let her nuzzle into you. Your sister leans over and whispers in slight worry into your ear. “y/n, I don’t know where (uncle’s name) is, (younger brother’s name), (older sister’s husband’s name) and (male cousin) is looking for him, Mum’s just told me there’s unwanted guests here, I think it’s the Spanish.”
As she speaks your smile falters, the two Shelby’s notice the change of your dementor and how panicked your older sister seemed. “Is everything alright, loves?” polly asks, her happiness now being replaced with concern.
“I- yeah…” you mutter out, staring at your sister in disbelief, you then look around the hall, downing the rest of the whiskey and putting the glass down, “I saw a couple of them…”
“And you didn’t think of telling us?” your older sister says, in a more lecturing tone, backing up, so she can see your face.
“I-” you try to reason, but judging on the look on her face, you knew there was no point, you look around the room, trying to spot any of the Spanish, or anyone involved with them.
“What's going on?” Polly now questions more seriously, Ada now backing her up.
Your sister turns to face your in-laws, “There's uninvited guests here, some of our enemies...”
Polly's face darkens and Ada's brows rise.
Polly then turns her head looking around and then her gaze lands on 3 young lads. She takes a couple of steps across the room.
“Mum?” one of the younger lads, seeming the eldest out the three, furrows his brows up at polly, and then eyes you and the others around you, “Is everything alright?”
“Micheal, I want you to go to Tommy and let him know there's unwanted Spanish guests here, enemies of the l/n foundation.” Aunt Polly states in an authoritative tone, “Isaiah, Finn, just keep an eye out for the Spanish.”
All three boys nod and does as they're told.
The door to Thomas' office gets swung open, revealing a panicked Micheal, “Tommy!”
The Shelby gangster looks up from the paperwork, a string of smoke releasing his lips, he promised to polly that it would take only a couple of minutes, yet has been stuck in his office for half an hour, “Micheal, what's wrong?”
“Tommy, there's unwanted Spanish guests here, enemies of the l/n foundation.” Micheal walks towards his desk, eyeing the paperwork.
Tommy then stands up from his seat, stubbing his cigar out, placing his pistol into his holster, “Make sure everyone stays put, Micheal.”
Thomas leaves the office, Micheal following behind into the hall.
“John, Arthur!” He motions for the two to come over, joining your sister and niece, your mother, your auntie, polly, Isaiah, Finn ada, esme, Micheal and himself.
As the family has all came together, your mother begins to fill the family in on how no one knows where (uncle’s name) is, (younger brother’s name), (older sister’s husband’s name) and (male cousin) are looking for him as well as the fact there are unwanted Spanish enemies here, as guests.
Tommy looks around the group.
“Is everythin' alright?” Arthur asks his younger brother, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Where the fuck's my wife?” he spits out in protectiveness, his gaze darting around the room for his spouse. You're his wife now, you're his woman now, you're his responsibility.
“She was with us a moment ago.” ada blurts out, worry overtaking her body, worried for her sister in law she just grew a strong bond over.
“Where is she now!?”
“Who's that?” Esme states, motioning over towards an older lad, who's walking at a fast paste, across the dance floor, standing out, like a white crayon in a box full of black ones.
Everyone looks at the guy Esme gestures towards.
“John, Arthur, come with me. Everyone else, keep guarded.” Tommy then follows the older man with his two brothers following behind.
“Mum, she'll be fine, she's capable of anything.” your older sister wraps her arms around your mum's shoulders, assuring her you're fine. Polly passes her a glass of whiskey, knowing how the worry feels, as she felt the same when Tommy, John and Arthur went off to war.
“She's a strong woman.” your auntie adds.
“Auntie y/n the best!” your niece butts in, making the family chuckle.
Your fist meets one of the Spanish men's nose, causing him to stumble back into the wall holding onto his broken, bloody nose, a couple of the enemies lay on the floor, dead, blood covering your white wedding gown.
“You bitch!” a strong Spanish accent is heard behind you, causing you to turn and grab the wrist that was aimed at you, pulling the lad forward, putting him into a headlock, “Oh, I'm the bitch?” you sarcastically spit out, facing him towards the other man, him watching as you shoot the man in the headlock, dropping dead.
The guy with the broken nose looks at you in horror, horrified at what such a pretty, naive-looking woman could do, he clearly underestimated you. You're no naive woman, you're a woman with power and intelligence. In your eyes, no msn can own you, snd you'll make sure that Thomas Shelby's well aware of that.
Another bullet releases from your pistol, piercing the heart. He falls dead. As the bullet was shot, you get pushed to the side, harshly against the wall, getting pinned. You groan at the harsh contact. The man lifts his gun up. Unable to react in time, he wacks the gun across your face, face snapping to the right, pain shoots through, a few cuts begin to let out blood. Without being able to process what just happened, he punches you, your face snapping the other direction. You let out a painful grunt.
A cold, metal barrel meets your chin, face now tilting up, looking at him coldly and with deadly eyes, even though he could end your life in seconds.
“I knew you were sexy, but I didn't think that having you under me, with the ability to end your life in seconds could be sexier.” he growls out in a strong Spanish accent, “What should I do hm, darling? You've killed all the others.”
You stare up at the man as he looks you up and down, checking you out in the bloody white wedding gown with the stained veil decorating your head.
He then grinds his hips into yours, causing you to back yourself more into the wall, you've never felt so vulnerable, “Should I fuck you and then kill you, or just kill you, huh? What would your husband think when he sees you dead, my cum traveling down your legs?”
You close your eyes, not wanting to look at the older man, disgusted, “You dirty fucking bastard.” you mutter out, clearly not wanting to admit how you're in a dead end.
That earned another sack across your face, you whine out in pain, the gun barrel retuning to where it first laid. He clearly didn't like your attitude.
Bang.
part three coming soon!
dm to be added on the taglist!
taglist: @meadowshelby @iceyyycapsicle @lunxrstellx @jbrownta
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