prettymfwrites

[prettymfwrites]

Ellie fucking you with her gun…👅👅👅

loaded worship ₊ ⊹

𖥠 word count: 1.9k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

𖥠 content warnings: top!ellie x sub!reader, porn w no plot, gunplay (r!receiving, consensual, unloaded, treated as a kink object), oral fixation (licking/sucking gun), AFAB!reader, cursing, pet names, spit kink, mild choking, degradation + praise, overstimulation, power dynamics, brat taming, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

it starts, like it always does, with you mouthing off.

ellie’s at the edge of the bed, legs spread, perched in a chair that’s more throne than furniture. the window’s cracked open behind her. the clouds blur into the moonlight.

she’s cleaning her gun again—not for protection, not for purpose, but for the meditative rhythm of it. something ancient in her hands, like a priest with a chalice.

and you—bratty, barely clothed in a paper-thin tank and those sleep shorts she loathes and loves at the same time— are sprawled across the sheets, soft skin glowing under the bedside lamp.

“gonna spend more time with that thing than me tonight?”

your voice is honey-laced venom. flirtatious, syrupy, barbed. she hears the dare in it. she always does.

ellie doesn’t answer right away. she slides the barrel back into place. presses the magazine in, safety flicks on with a soft click. there’s a smile on her lips that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. the kind that says she’s deciding whether to be sweet. or cruel.

“you jealous, baby?”

that voice. low and warm and mocking, but still so tender it hurts.

“maybe.” you stretch, belly tight, spine arching in a way that’s downright pornographic. “it’s prettier than me.”

her head lifts. one eyebrow raises. her gaze cuts you in half.

“nothing’s prettier than you.”

you roll your eyes.

and that’s it. the eye-roll, the little sigh, the careless way you flop onto your back like you’re bored. like she doesn’t have her trigger finger twitching. like she doesn’t wake up every morning already wet just from the thought of shutting you up.

she sets the gun down.

softly.

like it's not the most dangerous thing in the room.

“come here.”

there’s a change in the air. you feel it like a shift in pressure. her voice is velvet-wrapped steel—low, calm, lethal. not angry, but simmering. inevitable.

“ellie,” you murmur, but you’re already moving.

“no,” she says again. “come. here.”

she’s spread out in that chair like she owns even the air you're breathing. tattooed arm draped over her thigh. pupils blown wide. the slow smirk of someone who’s been waiting all day for an excuse.

“you got a lot to say tonight,” she murmurs when you get close. “real mouthy for someone who couldn’t stop begging ten minutes ago.”

“wasn’t begging,” you whisper, breathless. fake confident.

she tilts her head. hums low in her throat.

“nah. you were whining.”

her hand curls around your wrist and tugs you into her lap. you’re not even sure how you end up there — her fingers are hot against your skin, her thigh spreads you open instinctively. she kisses you once, deep and slow, like she’s claiming her prize. then she leans back.

“take your clothes off.”

you blink.

her voice is soft, but the command in it cuts like glass.

“why?”

she smiles.

and picks the gun back up.

“ellie—”

“relax.” her voice is velvet now, coaxing, almost sweet. “you trust me?”

you nod. instantly.

“you like being a brat, huh?” she murmurs. “you like pushing me.”

your heart’s in your throat. “maybe.”

“you want me to show you who you fucking belong to?”

a shaky breath. a nod.

and when you comply, you do it slow. ceremoniously. like you’re undressing for god — or something much, much worse. your fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and panties, peeling them down your thighs with shaky grace. your breath hitches at the chill in the room, the way it grazes over your freshly bare skin. you kick them aside, standing exposed from the waist down — but ellie’s still watching. still waiting.

your hands reach for the hem of your tank. soft cotton, now clinging with sweat. you pull it up, slow enough to feel her eyes follow the motion. over your ribs, your chest, your shoulders. when it finally leaves your body, you’re stripped to nothing — and that’s when it hits.

you feel it.

the weight of her stare. like a spotlight. like heat crawling over every inch of you. ellie’s not just looking, she’s devouring. the kind of look that makes you feel like prey, like art, like her favorite sin all at once. it makes your skin burn. your pulse skip. your thighs press together on instinct, already aching.

she doesn’t speak.

she just spins the gun in her hand with the ease of long practice—as if she was born with it, the ritual of cleaning and handling the only thing that steadies her. it twirls in her palm once, twice, catching the light as it flips , and then lands barrel-down in her open hand. her thumb brushes the safety. her fingers curl around the grip.

she’s still watching you.

you’re completely bare. she’s fully clothed. legs spread, eyes dark. the contrast makes you feel tiny. and impossibly turned on.

"you look like a dream,” she murmurs, her gaze pinning you in place like a knife to the throat. there’s a smirk playing on her lips — cocky, slow-burning — but her eyes are pure fire.

she spins the gun in her hand again and lets the barrel rest on her open palm.

“spit.”

“ellie—”

“spit on it.”

she doesn’t blink. and you —shaking now, lips parted— obey.

saliva hits the black metal, slick and hot. it glides down the barrel in the most obsene, wicked way imaginable.

ellie groans, quiet. pleased.

“fuck. good girl.”

she uses her thumb to smear it in. sensual, fucking indulgent.

“turn around.”

and you do. breath hitched. you straddle her lap with your back to her chest, thighs spread wide, cunt wet and aching. every inch of you is electric.

she nudges the barrel between your legs. just a tease. the steel is cold and slippery now, coated in spit and tension.

“still think she’s prettier than you?”

“n-no.”

“you gonna behave now?”

“i’ll try.”

she laughs against your neck.

“cute. too bad i don’t want ‘try.’ i want a 'yes'.”

and then she presses the barrel inside you.

your body jolts like it’s been shocked, the cold metal punching the breath from your lungs. it’s an unnatural stretch, one you've never felt before — not wide, but so precise. so smooth. it doesn’t flex. it doesn’t give. it fills you with the weight of power, the absolute certainty that you are being claimed, not fucked. your muscles clench instinctively, helplessly. the coolness burns as it warms inside you, the safety ridge dragging ever-so-slightly against your entrance, sending jolts up your spine.

ellie’s eyes are locked on your face, watching the transformation. the way your expression flickers from shock to lust to devotion.

she pushes in deeper, not rough, just deliberate. your thighs quiver around her lap. your cunt is already dripping, coating the slick metal in heat and want.

“jesus,” you gasp, nearly choking on it.

ellie grins, her voice a dark ribbon in your ear.

“nah, baby. not him.”

she begins to move. slow, sinful thrusts. the steel slides in and out, obscene and perfect. your slick is making it glide now, every drag sending aftershocks through your belly. it’s mechanical and intimate all at once. humiliating and holy. you’re spread wide on her lap, completely open, held still by her arm wrapped tight around your waist.

“this what you wanted?” she whispers. “you like being used like this?”

you moan. “yes—”

“like my little toy? like a wet fuckin’ hole?”

“yes—yes—”

your hips are rocking now, chasing it. chasing her.

“needy thing,” she breathes. “so fucking desperate. you gonna come like this? on my gun?”

“please, ellie—please—”

she lets out a groan. fucks it into you a little deeper. her free hand wraps around your throat, pulling you upright against her chest. your head falls back and your breath breaks.

“you hear yourself?” she murmurs. “you gonna remember this next time you wanna mouth off.”

she fucks you harder, a little rough now. precise. measured. like she knows every angle of your body, built it with her calloused hands just to use it like this.

you’re shaking.

“say it,” she growls.

“i’m yours,” you sob.

“again.”

“i’m yours—i’m yours—”

and then it hits you — a high so sharp it feels like lightning cracking down your spine. your body spasms. thighs clamp, back arches, a broken sob escaping your lips as you shatter. it’s not just release — it’s surrender. full-body, soul-deep, trembling surrender. you’re crying, and you don’t even realize it. your voice breaks open in a moan that borders on a whimper, like the pleasure was too much for you to carry.

ellie doesn’t stop. she fucks you through it — slow, possessive thrusts, making you feel every inch of the steel inside you, every twitch of your cunt around it, every aftershock that ripples through your core. her mouth is hot on your neck, mouthing filth against your skin like prayers.

“that’s it, baby,” she breathes. “that’s my girl. coming on my fucking gun like you were made for it.”

your body slumps against her, boneless. still twitching. still clenching around nothing when she finally eases the barrel out of you. the drag is slow —so slow— and the loss leaves you whimpering, your cunt fluttering around emptiness, dripping with slick and spit and the remnants of your orgasm.

ellie looks down at you like she’s just unearthed a masterpiece.

“fuck,” she mutters, reverent. “look at this mess.”

your thighs are soaked. your stomach rising and falling like you’ve run for your life. your cheeks are damp, lips parted, eyes barely focused.

she slides the gun slowly along your stomach, your chest, your neck, painting your release on your skin like a signature. deliberate, crude, worshipful.

then she leans in and presses a kiss to your neck — soft, warm, tender in the aftermath.

“mine,” she murmurs.

you nod, dazed. dizzy. your body’s humming. you don’t think you could move if you tried.

and then —slow as a ritual— she lifts the gun to her mouth.

you watch, hypnotized, as her tongue parts her lips. she licks a long, filthy stripe up the length of the barrel, tasting your slick like it’s a holy thing, worshipping the altar of your body even after she’s already made you come undone. her eyes flutter shut for half a second, lashes trembling. she hums low in her throat, a sound that vibrates through your chest like a second orgasm blooming.

and then she parts her lips wider — and takes the barrel into her mouth.

your breath catches. your knees almost give out.

she doesn’t break eye contact. not once.

it slides past her tongue, slow and obscene. her lips wrap around the metal like it’s your cunt she’s sucking. she moans around it, and it’s not just a show—it’s real, messy, shameless want. her spit mixes with your slick, glistening at the corners of her mouth. the sight is nothing short of devastating. your stomach twists.

her free hand slides between your legs, presses two fingers inside you without warning.

you cry out, overstimulated, needy.

“shit.” she says around the barrel, pulling it out with a soft wet pop. “sweetest fucking thing in the world.”

she sets it aside like it’s holy. it’s much more sacred now that it’s been inside you.

then she grips your chin. firm but gentle. tilts your face back so your eyes meet hers — pupils blown, lashes damp, lips trembling.

“get on the bed. gonna fuck you for real now.”

⭒ perm taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <3): @talyaisvalslutsoldier @miajooz @andiemiaswife @mayfldss @sewithinsouls @coastalwilliams @hotpinkskitties @ssijht @pleasejoel @pariiissssssss @liddy333 @beeisscaredofbees @d1catwhisperer @the-sick-habit @elliescoquettegirl @elliewilliams-wife @yueluv3rrrr @your-eternal-muse @ellies-real-wife @katherinesmirnova @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @thxtmarvelchick @natscloset @lesbiansreverywhere @2against3 @wwefan2002 @ilahrawr @harmonib @piastorys @azteriarizz @starincarnated @natssgf @ukissmyfaceinacrowdedroom @iadorefineshyt @claudiajacobs @urmomssideh0e @kingofeyeliner @womenlover0 @ferxanda @imunpunishable @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrrr @bambi-luvs @maru0uu @mikellie @gold-dustwomxn @nramv

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ PURE. FILTH. IM SHOKED WITH MYSELF. THE PARTS OF A GUN TAB IS STARING AT ME. AND JUDGING. huge HUGE HUGE love and tysm to my gorg mootie who sent this amazing request before i even started collide—you live in my brain rent free forever bby!

i might play around with a few more fics + requests before launching the next big series i’ve been outlining (👀), so stay tuned babes. ily all dearly ♡

credits for divider: @kodaswrld <3 – images from pinterest - edited by me

[prettymfwrites]

make me go

summary dallas!paige x hispanic!reader spicy game with paige. masterlist.

warnings not really smut but suggestive sexual thoughts. hickeys, finger sucking

celestial notes thought of this after seeing a tiktok. chapter 3 of taste of love will be released tmr! i promise!

“yeah, you make me go

love me, love me now, love me, love me good

don’t need nobody else when it feels this good

ain’t nobody around, do it like you should.” twice - make me go

her keys jangled from her hands as she walked through the door, paige was carrying a target bag. “babe!” she shouted.

you placed the curling iron down. “in here!“ you yelled, loud enough hopefully for her to hear. paige had an off day, and she wanted to spend it with you since they were occasional. you both didn’t want to go anywhere, just wanted to spend time in your apartment together and soak up each other’s presence.

paige playing her first rookie season was chaotic. multiple games a week, flying to and from different cities, her being jet lagged, and she didn’t have enough time to see you or spend with you. however, you grateful for this one day of rest she got.

you heard footsteps coming from the hallway, her valentino cologne tingling by. paige paused and leaned on the doorway, “whats the occasion?” paige whistled, admiring you.

you smirked, “you.” paige gave a peck on your lips as you curled another piece of you hair. you noticed the bag in her hand. “what’cha get?”

she paused, opening the bag and pulling out a box, showing it off like a prized possession. “found this game, wanna try it later tonight?”

you placed down a can of hairspray and grabbed the box. “rizzy games? really?” you rolled your eyes, unsurprised. this was definitely a game paige would pick out, as she called herself the “ultimate rizzler.”

you studied the box carefully, pointing your finger to read out the small text. “a spicy date game for…” you rolled your eyes, handing her back the box towards her chest.

she smiled, pointing to herself “what can i say? its something thats in you, not on you.”

“you’re so corny!” you teased, pushing her away from you.

paige moved closer, hands on your waist, practically feeling her breathing on your skin. “you know you love it.” she said, kissing your cheek afterwards.

-

after dinner, you sat down on the carpet, leaning against the coffee table. paige placed her empty dish in the sink. “you always make the best fucking food, i swear.” you smiled from her compliment, glancing at her from across the living room. “i’m glad you liked it.”

paige bent down to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of tequila. this tex-mex was really rubbing off on her ever since she got drafted. “since when do you know tequila?” you joked.

paige smiled. “since i was at the store. also this game requires drinking, if you don’t want to we don’t ha-.”

you cut her off immediately. “babe, i am always up for reconnecting with my people. dame la botella.”

growing up hispanic, drinking was not a surprise. it was at every family gathering or party. you sometimes occasionally snuck sips before 21.

she was puzzled, her eyebrows shooting up as she was grabbing shot glasses. you reached your hand out. “give me the bottle. didn’t you take spanish in high school?”

she sat walked to the coffee table and sat down, carrying the card game under her arm, tequilla in one hand, shot glasses in another. “that was like 8-9 years ago.” paige spoke, handing you the tequila.

“it should ring a bell by now with me occasionally talk to you.” you opened the bottle and poured some in your glass, then in paige’s. you both grabbed the glasss, saying cheers as they clanked together, gulping yours down like it was nothing.

you looked at paige, seeing her face after drinking it all. “how was it?”

her face puckered. “it was okay, props to you for having this growing up.” you laughed. “you get used to it paige.”

“alright.” paige spoke, rubbing her hands together. she grabbed the back of the box, reading the directions. “shuffle the cards and place the cards face down in the center. on your turn draw your card…blah blah blah.”

“that wasn’t helpful.” you joked. paige didn’t like instructions most of the time.

she rolled her eyes. “such a princess. basically pick a card, say it out loud and do what it says. the more intense the card is the more points its worth, first to 29 points wins.”

“why 29?” you asked.

paige shrugged. “i don’t know, its just what the game says.”

you grabbed the cards out of the box and shuffled them on the table as paige watched you in awe. there was the reason why you always were the shuffler in games. “rock paper scissors who goes first.”

she got her hands ready. “out of 3?”

you smiled, picking rock as she chose scissors. “okay i win!” you grabbed a card from the deck.

“try not to smooch 1 inch away from your partner for 60 seconds. fail? sip simp.” you grabbed your phone and put a time on for a minute. “ready?”

“born ready.” paige shot back.

you and paige both moved closer to each other, face to face. you looked at her blue ocean eyes, instantly dilating from the look of you. you can see a wave of blush hitting her cheeks. “its my challenge and you’re the one flustered over me.” you teased.

“well how can i stop myself when this view in front of me is all mine?” paige’s eyes darted to your lips, and you noticed. before you crashed onto hers, the timer rang. +1 for you. “you’re impossible” you told paige.

“i guess you can say you’re fallin’, hard.” paige spoke, attempting to be nonchalant. she grabbed a card from the deck. paige started smiling, you knew this was bad.

“blindfold your partner and sneak a kiss somewhere they wouldn’t expect.”

“but what if i expect it everywhere?” you questioned. paige laughed, covering your eyes with her hands. she whispered in your ear, “someone’s a little too confident.”

paige grabbed the neckline of your top, moving it towards your shoulders. she placed a kiss on the side of your neck, then more upwards towards your jaw. once she started, she couldn’t stop. paige started sucking and biting, strings of saliva connecting from her lips to you neck. a soft moan escaped you as she placed a hickey on you neck, claiming you were hers.

she uncovered your eyes, a grin escaping her. “expecting that?”

you heartbeat became faster. “no.”

“good.” +2 for paige. you grabbed another card. “‘what’s something your partner does thats lowkey a turn-on but not meant to be?’ oh definitely when you’re mad.”

she sat straight up. “really?”

you nodded. “its hot, coming from you.”

“next time i’m mad, i’m coming to you. i’m surprised no one has drank yet.” it was paige’s turn. “‘do a squat with your partner on your back.” paige stood up in a flash. “easy.”

paige reached for your hand to bring you up. you sat down on paige’s shoulders, then she started to squat down. “paige if you drop me i’m gonna kill you!” you shouted

“i got you. baby you’re like 100 pounds. i could do this all day.” you hands found her hair, trying to purposefully mess it up. she put you down and sat down once again. “how many do i have?” she asked, handing you her cards.

you analyzed the points at the bottom. “3.”

“only that many?” she asked, confused.

“well, if you get pink its 3 and if you get purple its 4.” you gave her back her cards, picking a card now that it was your turn.

“suck your partners fingers seductively.” you started smiling, then looked at paige.

paige looked ready. “you’re not gonna drink for this you, are you?”

you grabbed her wrist. “nope.” she placed her fingers in your mouth. you licked all around, placing a thick coat of spit. paige’s body became hot. your head bobbled, sucking her fingers like she ordered you to do before. you both were enjoying this deep down, getting turned on by the minute.

once you finished, her fingers released from your mouth. she turned to look at you with lust, placing her fingers in her mouth and licking off your flavor. “god you’re fucking killing me here.”

paige reached out and grabbed a card. “‘drink if you want to have sex right now.’ man give me the fucking bottle.”

she drank her shot then looked at you for approval. it was the look that made your legs feel like jello. you both smiled, as if you could read each others minds of what you both wanted in that moment, pleasure.

she grabbed your wrist with anticipation and headed upstairs towards the bedroom with one thing in mind, making you feel good.

[prettymfwrites]

More Paige pranks please😭!

Mommy's Friend (Prank)

Paige x wife!Reader

[Camera Recording — Reader’s POV]

The video starts with you crouched behind the kitchen island, camera propped up and angled toward the front door. You're whispering excitedly into the mic, grinning like a little kid who just stole from the cookie jar.

"Okay y’all," I whisper into the camera, trying to keep my voice low so our daughter doesn’t give it away too early. "So, Paige is on her way home from a media shoot right now, and today we're pulling the ultimate prank. I got Parker in on it too—"

Cut to Parker, our 5-year-old, sitting on the barstool with her little pink Crocs swinging off her feet. Her curly ponytail bounces as she giggles and holds up two tiny thumbs.

“She’s gonna tell Paige that she missed ‘mommy’s friend’ who was here earlier today,” I grin devilishly. “And that we were cuddling like how mommy and mama cuddle.”

Parker giggles again and nods eagerly like she’s been practicing a line for Broadway.

"Y’all, Paige is gonna LOSE it—she’s so protective, especially with Parker. I’m gonna act super calm, like I have no idea what she’s talking about. Just wait. She’s supposed to be home any minute, so let’s gooo.”

Cue the soft click of the door unlocking.

---

The front door swings open and in walks Paige, fresh from a shoot. She’s got her UConn hoodie half-zipped, camera bag over one shoulder, and that familiar ‘I’m-tired-but-will-smile-for-you’ look on her face.

“Hellooo?” she calls out, toeing off her sneakers. “Where’s my girls at?”

I glance toward Parker and mouth, ‘go!’

Parker dashes toward Paige and throws her arms around her legs. “Mama!”

Paige scoops her up like clockwork. “Heyyy baby girl! You miss me?”

Parker nods, curls bouncing. “Yeah! You missed mommy’s friend though! She was here and they were cuddling on the couch like you and mommy do!”

Cue silence.

Paige stiffens just enough that I notice. Her head turns toward me, eyes narrowing slightly as she tries to piece it together.

“What friend?” she asks with a soft laugh, still balancing Parker on her hip. “Who came over?”

Parker beams. “I dunno her name! But she was pretty. They were real close! Like this—” Parker presses her cheek to Paige’s shoulder dramatically.

Paige gently sets her down. “Why don’t you go play in your room for a little bit, baby? Mommy will come in to tuck you in later.”

Parker skips off. “Okay! Love you!”

Paige turns slowly to me, eyebrows already scrunched together in concern.

“…What friend was Parker talking about?”

I play dumb, continuing to pour juice into a glass.

“Huh?”

She crosses the kitchen. “Don’t ‘huh’ me. Parker just said you had some friend over, and y’all were cuddling like we do? What is she talking about?”

I sip the juice.

“I think she was just being silly. Probably a cartoon or something,” I shrug, placing the cup in the sink.

“Babe,” Paige’s tone is more serious now. “That didn’t sound like pretend. Did someone come over today?”

I casually pick up my phone and scroll like she didn’t just ask me a very direct question.

Paige’s nostrils flare. “Are you ignoring me right now?”

“Hm?” I don’t even glance up.

Now she’s standing right in front of me, hands planted firmly on the counter.

“You know how I feel about having someone around Parker without telling me first. So, did someone come over?”

“Nope,” I say, still scrolling. “Nothing happened.”

Paige’s eyes narrow. She pulls her bottom lip into her teeth, breathing slowly. That’s how I know she’s trying not to snap. She's not yelling—but she’s definitely mad.

“So Parker just made all that up?” she asks tightly.

“Looks like it.”

Ok she's officially scary looking.

“She said y’all were cuddling,” Paige presses. “That’s not a detail you imagine unless you see something.”

I finally glance up with fake innocence. “Maybe she saw it in a movie?”

Her jaw clenches, and I know I’m on thin ice.

“Don’t play with me right now,” she says low. “I just got home and the first thing I hear is that my wife was snuggled up on the couch with a ‘pretty friend’ while I was gone. I’m trying really hard not to make this a thing because Parker’s still awake. But you’re gonna have to explain it...right now.”

Just as I’m about to “forget” how to respond, Parker runs out from the hallway clutching her toy bunny.

“Mama, can I have some juice too?”

Paige steps back and nods, but her eyes never leave mine.

“Yeah, baby. Sit at the island, I’ll pour you some.”

---

I hand Parker her juice and take a seat across the counter. Paige leans back against the fridge, arms crossed, her expression unreadable but tight.

“You’re seriously not gonna tell me what’s going on?” she says under her breath.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh.

Parker sips her juice loudly. “Mommy?”

“Yeah, baby?”

She lowers her cup. “You should tell mama. It’s not nice to make her all tight-face.”

Paige lets out a soft chuckle but doesn't look away from me.

“Oh, I’m tight-faced?” she repeats, raising a brow.

Parker nods. “Like when I spilled syrup on your laptop.”

That earns a tiny laugh out of me.

Paige finally huffs and leans across the island. “Look. I love you. But I don’t like feeling like I’m being lied to in front of our daughter.”

I finally crack.

“…Okay, okay, wait. Let me show you something.”

I reach up to the cabinet and pull out the camera, spinning it toward her.

“Smile, you just got caught lacking again!”

Paige blinks.

Then stares at the red blinking “REC” light.

Then at Parker.

Then at me.

“…Are you kidding me right now?” Her voice breaks with disbelief, followed by a slow, stunned laugh.

I grin.

“You should’ve seen your face. You were about to interrogate me like I was on the witness stand.”

Paige sighs with relief, dragging a hand over her face as she exhales.

“I swear I was one second away from calling your mom like, ‘You better come get her.’”

Parker claps her hands. “We got youuu, Mama!”

Paige walks over and scoops Parker up, kissing her cheek with a laugh. “You little actress. I was about to go full hulk mode.”

“I practiced my lines!” Parker beams proudly.

Paige turns to me with a smirk, still holding Parker on her hip.

“You had her rehearsing? Wow. Betrayed by both my girls in the same day.”

I lean into the counter with a grin. “Don’t act like you’re not lowkey impressed.”

“Oh, I’m plotting revenge as we speak.”

We laugh. The tension’s gone now—replaced with that buzz Paige and I always get when we prank each other. Except this time, I can tell something else lingers in her eyes. A little heat. A little challenge.

She lowers Parker down gently. “Alright munchkin, it’s bedtime for real now. Go brush and I’ll read you two stories, okay?”

“Okay!” Parker skips off again.

As soon as she's out of sight, Paige slowly rounds the counter and cages me in between her arms.

“You,” she murmurs, voice a little deeper now. “Are so lucky that was a prank. Because the way I was ready to question your every move this week?”

I swallow, her closeness already doing things to me.

“Forgive me?”

Her lips hover just above mine.

“I dunno…” she teases, brushing her nose against mine. “Might need a little…convincing.”

“Like what?”

Her hand traces my waist slowly, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“Wait ‘til Parker’s asleep and find out.”

I grin at the camera.

“Well, y’all, this has been another successful prank—Paige’s blood pressure might’ve gone up, but the views are gonna be worth it.”

Paige tilts her head. “You better hope the comments still got your back when I get my get back.”

“They always do,” I wink.

We blow a kiss to the camera together. Paige smirks at me one last time before flicking off the recording.

---

The red light fades. Paige’s hands don’t.

She leans in closer, eyes gleaming. “You really had Parker lying for you?”

“She’s got a future in acting, what can I say?”

“You’re gonna pay for that one, mama.”

“Looking forward to it.”

I need more good recommendations 🙏🏾

[prettymfwrites]

𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴✞

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: Vampire Paige Bueckers x Female Reader x Vampire Azzi Fudd

Warnings: Dark romance elements, slight obsession, biting/marking, smut, protective/possessive behavior, vampires.

Tone: Spicy, sensual, mysterious, slightly gothic.

☽ FIRST SIGHT ☾

The moment you stepped onto that stage in your blood-red silk and jet-stoned corset, they stopped breathing.

It wasn’t like Paige and Azzi needed to breathe, of course...they were centuries past that point. But watching you twirl under the sultry velvet lights, teasing the edge of your thigh-high stockings with your gloved fingers, they forgot about everything else: the blood, the boredom, the slow decay of time.

You didn’t even look their way as you danced, as if their piercing eyes in the back booth of the club didn’t matter. As if their power, their legacy, their entire cursed eternity couldn’t shake your focus.

That was the moment they knew you had to be theirs.

☽ THE OBSESSION ☾

Azzi was the first to move.

Always quieter, always more patient — she started attending every show. Same seat. Same time. Always a single red rose left backstage with your name scrawled in looping, elegant calligraphy.

Paige? Paige wasn’t so subtle.

She didn’t leave roses. She left messages. A single gold necklace tucked into your purse one night, etched with a symbol you didn’t recognize. A whisper behind your ear after your dance: You’re the most dangerous thing in this room, sweetheart.

You’d turned around, heart racing — and no one was there.

They didn’t try to hide that they were following you. Not really. Not when they’d be leaning against your building’s brick wall when you left the club. Not when you’d catch one of them watching you from across the market square at dusk, dressed in black, eyes glowing just faintly in the moonlight.

Azzi’s smiles were gentle. Paige’s stares were dangerous.

But neither ever crossed the line.

Not until you let them.

☽ WHEN YOU LET THEM IN ☾

“I know you’re watching me,” you whispered one night — after a particularly sensual routine, still flushed from the rush of performance. You were alone in the alley behind the club. “You always are.”

The silence stretched.

Then: “And yet, you don’t run.” Paige’s voice. Low. Velvet-wrapped steel. She stepped out of the shadows.

Behind her, Azzi appeared as if she’d been waiting in the dark for centuries. Her eyes searched your face with something soft. Something eternal.

“I think you like it,” Paige added, stepping closer.

Your heart kicked.

“I think I might,” you whispered.

And that’s when everything changed.

☽ THEIR GIRL ☾

Once you let them in, you never paid for another thing again.

New gowns showed up at your door every week, tailored to perfection — silk, velvet, sheer mesh that made you blush. Your favorite foods, imported wine, fresh fruit, foreign chocolates. Azzi made you a playlist of music from every decade she’d lived through. Paige bought the entire building you lived in — and let you discover that detail only when she casually handed you a key with a smirk.

“You’re not just some fling,” Paige growled one night as she pinned you gently against the wall. “You’re ours. Our queen.”

Azzi kissed your collarbone then, soft as starlight. “We don’t share what we claim,” she murmured.

And gods help anyone who tried.

☽ THE WARNING SIGNS ☾

The town knew. They knew who Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd were.

The immortal kind. The ancient kind. Beautiful and bloody. Their names were never spoken above a whisper. And you — the one they followed, the one they watched — became untouchable.

Most respected the unspoken line.

But not all.

The club’s new manager thought he could corner you backstage. He didn’t get to touch you — Paige had her hand wrapped around his throat before he even reached you. Lifted him off the ground like he was weightless.

Her fangs brushed his jaw.

“I’ve killed gods for less,” she whispered into his ear, voice ice-cold. “What makes you think you’re worth sparing?”

Azzi didn’t say anything. She just looked him in the eyes with a tilt of her head… and he pissed himself before collapsing.

You didn’t ask what they did with him.

You didn’t need to.

☽ IN PRIVATE ☾

Their kisses were everything.

Azzi’s lips were warm, slow — like honey dripping down your throat. Paige? Paige kissed you like she was still starving after a thousand years. She always gripped your waist too tight, always pulled your hair just enough to make your breath hitch.

They loved touching your throat.

Azzi would cradle your jaw, brushing her thumb over your pulse, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the shell of your ear. Paige would graze her teeth down your neck, not enough to break skin — just enough to make your legs shake.

“You don’t even know what you do to us,” Azzi would whisper between kisses, her hand sliding beneath your skirt as you writhed beneath her.

“Oh, she knows,” Paige would growl, from behind, her hands caging you in, pressing kisses down your spine. “Our sweet little temptation.”

You were always sandwiched between them.

Always worshipped.

Always theirs.

☽ BLOODLUST ☾

Sometimes, Paige would let her fangs drag just a little too long over your skin.

Sometimes, Azzi would hold your hips still and just breathe in the scent of your neck, like she was drowning in it.

“You’re sweeter than anything I’ve ever tasted,” Paige admitted once, voice rough, kneeling between your legs. “I could sink my teeth in and still never get enough.”

Azzi’s fangs grazed your thigh, her voice softer. “But we won’t. We won’t hurt you.”

And they didn’t. They never broke skin.

But they bit. Slowly. Sensually. Playfully.

You learned to love the pressure. To crave it. Your body would arch into them when their teeth found your pulse point — legs tightening around Paige’s waist, fingers clawing at Azzi’s back as her mouth worked lower.

You learned their hunger. Their restraint.

And how good it felt to be on the edge of danger without falling.

☽ QUEEN OF NIGHT ☾

They dressed you like royalty — draped in black lace, blood-red jewels, thigh-slit gowns with nothing beneath. Whenever you walked through town on their arms, no one dared meet your gaze. You were the vampires chosen one. The center of their undead universe.

You liked the power. You liked them.

But more than that, you loved how they looked at you — like the centuries they’d spent searching for something worth dying for had finally led to you.

“You’re not just ours,” Azzi whispered once as she ran a clawed finger down your bare back, “we’re yours too.”

Paige leaned in from behind, lips brushing your neck. “And we like it that way.”

☽ THE BEDROOM ☾

Some nights were soft.

Azzi would undress you piece by piece, kissing every inch of revealed skin. Paige would just watch, eyes glowing faintly, stroking your thigh until you whimpered.

Other nights?

Paige would throw you on the bed like she couldn’t wait another second. Azzi would pin your wrists while Paige kissed her way down your ribs. They’d tease you for hours — biting softly, tasting you everywhere, never quite giving in.

“You wanna beg, baby?” Paige would murmur into your ear, her breath hot. “We like it when you beg.”

And gods, you did. You begged.

For their touch. For their teeth. For their fangs.

You barely made it through the front door before Paige had you pinned to it.

Her hands were rough, impatient — gripping your thighs and lifting you off the ground like you weighed nothing. Your legs wrapped around her waist instinctively, your breath catching as her mouth slammed against yours. Hot. Bruising. Hungry.

Azzi was behind you in a second, peeling off your coat, soft lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You were teasing us on stage tonight,” she whispered, voice silk over fire. “You knew we were watching.”

You gasped as Paige ground against your center through your panties, already soaked. “Is that true, baby?” Paige growled against your neck, her fangs grazing just enough to make your thighs tremble.

“I… maybe,” you whispered, dizzy from the scent of them. “I wanted you to see.”

Paige let out a dark chuckle, low in her throat. “Oh, we saw.”

Azzi kissed down the curve of your shoulder. “Now we get to play.”

They took you to the bedroom — or rather, Paige carried you there, not even bothering to take the stairs slowly. She threw you on the bed like she owned it — like she owned you.

“Clothes off,” Paige ordered, already stripping her shirt over her head, lean muscle rippling. Her eyes glowed gold. “Now.”

Your hands trembled, but you obeyed — pulling your top off, your skirt next, baring yourself to their hungry stares.

Azzi reached you first, crawling onto the bed with the grace of a predator. She leaned down, kissing between your breasts, dragging her tongue teasingly along your skin. Her hand slid between your legs, fingers stroking over your soaked panties.

“Look at you,” she whispered, fingers pressing just enough to make you arch. “So wet for us. So pretty.”

You whimpered as she slid your panties down and lowered her mouth — and then Paige was behind you again, kissing the back of your neck, her fingers gripping your jaw.

“You wanna be good for us, baby?” Paige asked, her voice rough, her teeth dragging along your pulse point.

“Yes—” you gasped, “please…”

Azzi moaned against your heat, tongue dipping between your folds. Her tongue was slow. Expert. Relentless. She held your hips down as you writhed, whimpers falling from your lips like prayer.

Paige leaned in, one hand cupping your breast, the other tilting your face toward hers. She kissed you hard, muffling your cries as Azzi sucked your clit with devastating precision.

“You taste divine,” Azzi purred from between your thighs. “Like sin.”

Paige’s fingers were suddenly sliding in from behind — slow at first, then curling just right. You screamed into her kiss, thighs trembling, back arching off the bed.

They took you apart like a ritual. Azzi’s mouth never left your pussy, her lips glossy, her tongue worshiping you. Paige’s fingers were deep and ruthless, coaxing a second orgasm before the first even faded.

“Paige—Azzi—I—fuck—”

You came undone with a cry, body shuddering as Paige bit down gently on your neck — not enough to pierce, just enough to leave a mark. Her fangs grazed your skin like a promise.

“Good girl,” Paige growled, licking the spot she bit, her voice soaked in possessive pride.

Azzi climbed up to kiss you — slow, deep, her lips tasting of you. Her thighs straddled yours, and you felt her heat against your stomach.

“You want more?” Azzi asked softly, brushing your hair back as Paige moved behind you again.

Your answer was a breathless nod.

“Then let us ruin you,” Paige whispered, and they did — again, and again, until you forgot your name and remembered only theirs.

☽ ETERNITY ☾

You never asked what they planned for the future.

But one night, as you lay tangled between them, Paige pressed a cold ring to your finger — carved in ancient symbols you couldn’t read.

Azzi kissed the back of your hand.

“When the time is right,” she whispered, “we’ll ask you to stay forever.”

Paige added, “But only if you want it.”

You didn’t answer right away.

But the way your lips found Azzi’s throat, the way your nails dragged down Paige’s chest, the way you moaned for them when their teeth grazed your skin again and again…

It felt like you already had.

[prettymfwrites]

Miss President Headcanons & Blurbs

President!Paige x Female!assistant reader

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

(Genre: Slow burn, spicy, emotional, romantic, power dynamics, secret affair)

Paige is the youngest, hottest, most driven President the nation’s seen. You’re the assistant who swore you wouldn’t fall for her. You were dead wrong.

_________________________________________

1. The Slow Burn

Headcanons:

Paige Bueckers wasn’t supposed to be soft. At least not in the office. But she always looked at you like she was memorizing your face.

The attraction was quiet at first...subtle glances over her laptop, soft chuckles at your witty comebacks, a hand brushing your lower back to guide you out of crowded meetings.

You caught her looking at you too long during a cabinet meeting once. She never denied it.

She started requesting you for every trip, every closed-door meeting. “Only trust you,” she’d say, but her voice always held something more.

You started dressing just a little sharper, lipstick just a little bolder. You weren’t trying to seduce the President. That would be reckless. And thrilling.

♡♡♡: You handed her the finalized press statement, fingers brushing as you placed it on her desk. Paige didn’t move. Her icy blue eyes stayed locked on yours.

“You know I notice everything you do, right?” she said softly, voice laced with meaning.

Your breath hitched. “I just do my job, Miss President.”

Paige tilted her head, a slow smirk blooming. “That’s what makes it so dangerous.”

2. The First Kiss in the Oval Office

Headcanons:

It happened late. The office was empty. You’d just argued over her pushing herself too hard, she’d snapped, then softened instantly.

You were standing too close. Heated. Frustrated. Paige leaned in like it was instinct.

Her hand was on your cheek, thumb brushing your skin like she’d wanted to do it for months.

The kiss was soft, desperate, and deepened quickly. Papers fell. You ended up on her desk. Buttons undone.

She stopped it...eventually. Barely. “Not like this,” she murmured, forehead against yours. “You deserve more than a late-night Oval Office scandal… but God, you taste so good.”

♡♡♡: “Say the word, and I’ll stop,” Paige whispered, hands trembling where they gripped your hips.

You leaned in, lips brushing hers. “You’re the most powerful woman in the world. You really think I’m the one in control?”

3. Sneaking Around

Headcanons:

You both swore it would only be once. That was a lie.

Paige started pulling you into private rooms: coat closets, underground tunnels, even the press storage hallway.

She couldn’t keep her hands off you. She’d press a kiss to the back of your neck while pretending to hand you papers in public.

At cabinet meetings, her foot would nudge yours under the table. Her voice would drop an octave when she said your name.

She was obsessed with you in secret: sneaking selfies you didn’t know she took, reading your calendar just to see when she could “bump into you.”

♡♡♡: You were organizing briefing notes when you felt her behind you. Her hands slid slowly up your waist, lips finding the base of your neck.

“We have six minutes before the press arrives,” she murmured, spinning you around. “Tell me that’s enough time.”

Your lips met like fire meeting gasoline.

4. Behind Closed Doors

Headcanons:

Paige was soft, but dominant. Always in control—but for your pleasure.

She’d whisper “mine” against your skin, leave love bites where no one could see, then kiss them like an apology.

She liked making you beg with just her voice. “You want me, pretty? Say it.”

Office chairs, Air Force One bathrooms, and even her private dressing room saw things no security camera could ever show.

She always kissed you after. Tucked your blouse back in. Straightened your necklace. “Still the most professional assistant I’ve ever had,” she’d tease.

♡♡♡: “Paige,” you moaned as her hands gripped your thighs.

She looked up at you from between your legs, eyes dark. “What did I say about calling me that in here?”

“…Madam President,” you corrected breathlessly.

“Good girl.”

5. The Leak

Headcanons:

A photo leaked: Paige’s hand slipping around your waist as you exited her car.

News outlets ran wild with it. “Scandal in the White House: Is the President Sleeping with Her Assistant?”

You tried to quit, crying in her office while she sat silently in disbelief.

Paige got up, took your hands, and kissed them one by one.

“You think I’d let the only person who makes me feel human walk away over gossip?”

She kissed you—slowly, softly. Then pulled you into her lap, stroking your back until your breathing calmed.

“Let them talk. I’m not hiding you anymore.”

♡♡♡: “I’m ruining your career,” you whispered, voice shaking.

Paige cupped your face. “No. You’re reminding me why I fight. And I’d rather lose every voter than lose you.”

6. Going Public

Headcanons:

The next press conference, Paige walked in with you at her side. No hiding.

When asked, she said, “Yes. She’s the love of my life. That’s all I’ll say about it.”

Her approval rating soared. The nation loved “Wifeygate.”

You stopped sneaking around. Now she held your hand at events, brushed your cheek at fundraisers, and kissed you in the Rose Garden like you were royalty.

You moved into the White House. She’d bring you coffee in bed, whisper “Good morning, pretty,” before kissing your shoulder.

She still pulled you into closets...but now just to make you blush.

♡♡♡: At a gala, a senator leaned in too close. Paige stepped between you, hand firm on your lower back.

“She’s taken,” she said with a sharp smile. “And she belongs to me.”

7. Everyday Life

Headcanons:

She left post-it notes on your mirror: “Take it easy today, pretty.” / “Dinner after you’re done being the hottest assistant alive?”

She called you “mama” whenever you were on the phone with her staff. “Mama’s in charge now,” she’d smirk.

You helped her rehearse speeches in bed. She'd get distracted halfway through, kissing your thigh like it was part of the address.

Every time she introduced you, she used a different pet name. “My wifey,” “My baby,” “My favorite diplomat.”

She never stopped looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered in a room full of power.

♡♡♡: You were fixing her tie before a debate when she whispered, “You know, if I win tonight… I get to take you back to our room and thank you properly.”

You smiled. “And if you lose?”

She smirked. “Then I’ll just have to beg.”

8. A Soft Night

The moonlight lit the White House balcony as Paige wrapped her arms around you from behind. You leaned back into her chest, her hands warm against your stomach.

“Think the world’s still mad at us?” you asked.

Paige kissed your temple. “Let them be. I got what I really wanted.”

You turned to face her, your fingers resting over her heart. “What’s that, Madam President?”

She smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You. Always you.”

[prettymfwrites]

Harlivy x reader?

I have some harlivy fics I never published because I didn't see many fics on here. Would y'all want them and maybe.... More?

[prettymfwrites]

PAZZI CONFIRMED 🥲

That's so cute ima cry

[prettymfwrites]

Paige x teammate reader please! I beg of you 😭😔

Yessss babes 🙏🏾 this was sitting in my drafts sorry ❤

---------------------------------------------------

💙 Paige Bueckers x Female Teammate!Reader Headcanons

(ft. UConn Team Shenanigans)

(Not proofread)

🥺 Protective Paige Mode™

Paige is usually calm and goofy, but the second someone fouls you too hard or gets in your face during practice or a game?

> "Back off, that’s my girl."

She’ll walk up slowly, real chill, and stare until the message is received.

You once got shoved hard going for a layup and Paige didn't even let the ref finish their call before she was checking if you were okay.

> "You good? Need me to handle her?"

Teammates joke that when you fall, Paige gets to you before the trainers.

---

📱 TikTok Addict x TikTok Hater

You are obsessed with TikTok. Paige? Not so much.

But she somehow ends up in all your videos... reluctantly.

You’ll catch her coming out the locker room and be like,

> “Okay babe do this dance with me, just the first part.”

Paige: “Baby I got on slides and no rhythm, don’t do this to me.”

One time you did a TikTok where she had to lip sync Megan Thee Stallion and she gave up halfway through and said:

> “Nah I can’t be sexy on camera like that, mama, my mom gon’ see this.”

Aaliyah, Nika, and Ice Brady are your hype squad. They love watching Paige get roped in.

> Aaliyah: "PAIGE did you just do the body roll?? Who ARE you??"

Paige: "I was held at gun point."

---

💘 Nickname Central

Paige lives off the nicknames. You never hear her say your government name unless it’s something serious.

> "Pass me the water, pretty."

"Yo babe, you left your slides in my locker again."

"You seen my charger, mama? You always take mine."

She’ll casually call you “baby” in front of the team and then act confused when they’re teasing.

> Nika: “Oop, baby??”

Paige: “What? I got a baby. Y’all just mad.”

---

🏀 Practice & Locker Room Moments

During scrimmages, Paige will purposely switch teams if you’re dominating too much just to guard you.

> "Nah nah, I got her. No one else touch her. This is personal now."

You once smacked her butt after hitting a shot on her and she dramatically flopped like she was fouled, yelling:

> “Ref! Domestic!”

Paige leaves little notes in your locker on game days like:

> “Go off, pretty. I got rebound duty today if you start missing.”

---

🛋 Lazy Days and Social Media Chaos

Y’all do “get ready with me” TikToks before team events. Paige is in the background struggling to pick an outfit while yelling:

> “Babe, do I wear the hoodie or the other hoodie?”

You: “Neither. You’re wearing the sweater I picked.”

If you post a photo where she thinks you look too good, she’s in the comments:

> “Delete this rn before they start in the comments.”

And then texts: “You tryna make me fight air?? 😤”

---

💤 Post-Game Snuggles

After games, Paige likes to lie on your chest while you scroll on your phone. She pretends she hates the TikToks but lowkey enjoys watching you laugh.

> “You’re cute when you laugh, baby. Don’t change the vid yet.”

---

🏀 Jealous Paige at Practice

The gym echoed with sneakers squeaking and laughter as practice scrimmage started heating up. You’d been matched up against Jaylin, one of the newer players on the team, and let’s just say… she was being a little too friendly.

You hit a nice step-back three right in her face, and Jaylin smiled, holding her hands up.

“Okayyy, I see you,” she said, tapping your waist lightly. “We got a shooter on our hands.”

You laughed, brushing it off, not noticing the way Paige paused mid-dribble on the other side of the court.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

“Yo Nika,” she said slowly, still watching Jaylin, “Switch with me real quick.”

“Why?”

“I’ma guard Y/N.”

“But I’m—”

“Nika.”

“…Got it.”

You raised an eyebrow as Paige jogged over, sliding in front of you with that calm-but-lowkey-murderous expression she gets when she’s annoyed.

“Hi babe,” you grinned, dribbling toward her.

“Hey pretty,” she said, stealing the ball clean. “You flirtin’ today or just hoopin’?”

You snorted. “What?”

“Just wondering,” Paige replied, way too casually, passing the ball behind her back to Aaliyah. “You and Jaylin got some chemistry I ain’t know about?”

You stepped closer, grinning. “Ohhh, is someone jealous?”

“Jealous?” she tilted her head with a smirk. “Nah, I just think people need to keep their hands to themselves unless they paying rent.”

Aaliyah hollered from the sideline.

“NOT THE RENT LINE.”

Jaylin raised her hands. “My bad, Bueckers! I was just playin’.”

Paige nodded, smiling tight. “Play somewhere else.”

You covered your mouth to stop from laughing and leaned into her. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous.” She winked. “Now come on, mama. I’m not lettin’ you score again unless you say I’m your favorite teammate.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Say it.”

“…Fine. You’re my favorite.”

“Louder for Jaylin in the back.”

“PAIGE!”

[prettymfwrites]

Room for one more?

g!pEllie x female reader

Summary: How will Ellie react to the news...

I hadn’t meant to avoid her. It just… sort of happened.

At first, it was small things...staying out late on patrol, keeping my answers short when she asked how I was feeling. I stopped sitting on the couch next to her at night, claiming I was tired and going to bed early. But even then, I’d just lie there staring at the ceiling, hands over my stomach like it was going to start talking.

I couldn’t even say the word.

Pregnant.

I was late. Really late. My body felt different—tired, nauseous, achy. And sure, Jackson didn’t have a fancy doctor to confirm it, but I knew. Deep down, I knew. And the terrifying part wasn’t the idea of being pregnant. It was telling Ellie.

This wasn’t the plan. We were supposed to get married first. Settle. Make sure we were safe. She talked about it sometimes, about a little house outside the gates, maybe even adopting someday. She never mentioned... this.

So, I avoided her.

And of course she noticed.

“Y/N, are you mad at me or something?” she asked one morning, cornering me in the kitchen. Her voice was soft but strained. Her hand reached out like she wanted to touch me, but I stepped back before she could.

“No,” I said quickly, avoiding her eyes. “Just tired. Long patrol yesterday.”

That was three days ago. Now I couldn’t even be in the same room as her without guilt clawing up my throat. Every time she looked at me, it felt like she could see straight through me—and the longer I kept it a secret, the more ashamed I felt.

I couldn’t do it anymore.

So I went to the one person in Jackson who might understand.

Joel.

He was out behind the stables when I found him, fixing up a broken saddle. His face lit up when he saw me—just like it always did—and then quickly turned serious when he noticed how pale I looked.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag. “What’s goin’ on?”

I swallowed hard. “Can we talk? Like… privately?”

Joel didn’t ask questions. He just nodded and led me to the quiet corner of the barn where the horses couldn’t hear us.

I looked at the floor, then at my hands. “I think I’m pregnant.”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, letting it settle, nodding slowly like he was putting the pieces together in his head.

“It’s Ellie’s,” I whispered, like saying it louder would make it more real. “I haven’t told her. I… I can’t. She wanted to wait. She always said we’d be ready later.”

Joel put a hand on my shoulder, his voice gentle. “You scared she’s gonna leave?”

I nodded. “Or be disappointed. Or think I messed everything up. She’s been through so much, Joel. I don’t want to be the reason she’s stressed out all over again.”

He gave a small sigh and looked out toward the sunset.

“I’ll get Dina to grab a test for ya, alright? Just to be sure. You just sit tight, kiddo. And don’t beat yourself up, y’hear me? Ellie loves you more than anything. No matter what.”

Before I could respond, the barn door creaked open.

Ellie and Dina stepped inside, laughing about something, until they both saw us.

Joel’s jaw clenched. His whole face changed—like guilt took over—and he backed away slightly.

Ellie’s eyes darted from me to Joel. “What’s going on?”

Joel didn’t answer.

“Joel,” she said again, more tense this time. “What is it?”

I stepped forward quickly. “Ellie, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong, okay?”

Her brows furrowed. “Why won’t he tell me? Why are you—?” Her voice cracked. “You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”

“No! Ellie, no, I’m not—”

She shook her head and stepped back. Her hands balled into fists. “It’s alright. I saw it coming anyway.”

And before I could stop her, she turned around and walked out.

Jaw clenched. Shoulders tight. I heard her sniff, just once.

Joel cursed under his breath.

Dina looked between all of us, stunned. “Wait—what the hell is going on?”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her. “I need you to pick up a pregnancy test for lil’ bit here, okay?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my god.”

She smiled before grabbing my hand. “Come on. You’re coming with me.”

We walked quietly to her and Jesse’s place. My heart still hurt from watching Ellie walk away like that, but Dina’s presence helped.

“I’m scared to tell her,” I admitted. “She’ll think I broke our plan. Like I didn’t listen.”

Dina shook her head. “Y/N, she’s obsessed with you. Yeah, she’s got a temper and yeah, she gets in her own head sometimes, but trust me—she’s gonna come around.”

Once we got inside, Dina made me sit down while she disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, she came back out and pressed a little pink box into my hands.

“I’ve had this stashed just in case,” she said with a grin. “You good to take it?”

I nodded, and she kissed my forehead. “I’ll be right outside, babe.”

The test was positive.

I stared at the tiny plus sign until my hands started shaking. And then I cried. Big, ugly sobs I couldn’t hold back.

Dina came in, knelt beside me, and wrapped me in her arms.

“You’re not alone, okay? You’ve got me. You’ve got Joel. And you’ve got her—even if she doesn’t know it yet.”

After a minute, she pulled back. “Alright, now that we know for sure, let’s make this cute. You know Ellie. She’s dramatic as hell. You’ve gotta do something creative.”

I smiled weakly. “She does love music.”

Dina grinned. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

That night, I walked back home with a record in my backpack and a plan.

Ellie was in the small room she used for writing and playing guitar. Her back was to me, head bowed, gently strumming a few chords.

“I thought I’d be gone by the time you got back,” she said softly, not turning around.

I set my bag down and slowly walked over. Without a word, I knelt, took her guitar gently out of her hands, and set it against the wall. Then I climbed into her lap and wrapped my arms around her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, nuzzling her cheek. “I love you. So much. And I know this isn’t how you wanted things to go. I know we talked about getting married first.”

Her brow creased as she looked at me. “I think you’re leaving me… and you give me… a record?”

I laughed through my nerves and kissed her lips once, soft and slow. “Open it.”

She hesitated, then opened the sleeve.

Inside was a test, taped beside a folded note that read: Room for one more?

The record? “I Love You” by Fontaines D.C.

Ellie stared at it for what felt like hours. Her jaw dropped slightly, then she blinked and let out a breathless laugh.

Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re… you’re serious?”

I nodded, and she grabbed my face and kissed me once, twice, three times in a row. Then she held my head to her shoulder, breathing hard.

“I thought I was losing you,” she whispered. “And turns out… I’m gonna have a kid?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just… scared myself. I didn’t know how you’d react.”

Ellie pulled back to look me in the eyes. “You think I’d be mad? That I’d leave you?”

“I didn’t know.”

She shook her head, wiping her eyes. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’ve been such an asshole lately. I just—I didn’t know what was happening, and it scared the fuck out of me.”

“We’re both scared,” I said. “But we’re gonna be okay.”

She nodded. “Yeah. We are.”

We sat there in silence for a while, tangled up in each other. Then Ellie grinned through her tears.

“Okay… real talk. What are we naming this thing?”

I laughed. “What, like now?”

“Hell yeah. Might as well get ahead of it. I’m voting for something badass. Like… Blade.”

I snorted. “You’re not naming our kid Blade, Ellie.”

“What about Shimmer Jr.?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I!”

We kept throwing names at each other until we were breathless from laughing. And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right again.

_________________________________________

I'M BACK AHHHH

[prettymfwrites]

EX's Name Prank

Paige bueckers x Female reader

Kinda short I'm sorry 🙏🏾

☆♬○♩●♪✧♩　　 ☆♬○♩●♪✧♩　　

You and Paige had been scrolling through TikTok when the idea struck you. A prank. She loved to prank you all the time, so it was only fair you got her back. Today’s plan? Call her by your ex’s name in the middle of filming and act completely clueless.

Paige was sitting on the couch, her legs stretched out while scrolling her phone. She glanced over at you as you propped up your phone.

“You wanna do a TikTok, mama?” she asked, her signature smirk tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, let’s do the one where we do the little dance thing,” you said, waving your hands vaguely.

She rolled her eyes, already teasing. “You mean, every TikTok dance thing? Be specific, baby.”

You laughed. “You know what I mean. Just get over here.”

She groaned but got up, dragging her feet dramatically. “You lucky you cute.”

Once you set up the camera, you both started to practice the dance. Paige picked it up quickly—of course she did. She was annoyingly good at everything.

“Okay, ready?” you asked, hitting record.

“been ready,” she quipped, her confidence oozing.

You started the dance together, but mid-spin, you said it loud enough for her to hear:

“move, Alyssa!”

She froze, eyebrows shooting up. “What?”

You looked at her like she was the one being weird. “What?”

Her mouth opened slightly, but she didn’t say anything else. She just gave you a side-eye before continuing the dance.

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

The second time you did it, her reaction was stronger. “Okay, Alyssa, I see you!” you said, grinning.

Paige stopped in her tracks, turning to you fully now. “Yo, stop playin’.”

“Stop playing what?” you asked innocently, blinking at her like she’d lost her mind.

“You just called me Alyssa,” she said, crossing her arms.

“No, I didn’t,” you replied, your tone even.

“Yes, you did!” she exclaimed, her voice rising slightly.

“Paige, what are you talking about?”

Her jaw tightened, and she pointed at you. “Nah, I’m not about to do this. I know what I heard, mama. Don’t gaslight me right now.”

“Gaslight you? You sound crazy, bae,” you said, shaking your head as you restarted the video.

Paige stayed quiet, staring at you with a mix of disbelief and irritation. “Alright, bet. Keep going,” she muttered, stepping back into frame.

You danced again, Paige doing the moves more lackluster now. And when the moment was right, you did it a third time.

“cmon Alyssaaa.”

Paige stopped dead in her tracks, threw her head back, and let out a frustrated groan.

“Yo!” she yelled, pacing a few steps away. “You deadass right now?”

“Deadass about what?” you asked, trying to keep a straight face but failing.

She shot you a glare, her hands on her hips. “You keep calling me Alyssa! Like, who even is Alyssa?”

“I literally didn’t say that,” you said, shrugging.

“Don’t gaslight me, baby,” she snapped, shaking her head. “You know you said it.”

You finally cracked, laughing so hard you almost fell over. “Paige, chill! It’s a prank!”

Her face didn’t soften immediately. Instead, she squinted at you, processing your words.

“A prank?” she repeated, her tone flat.

“Yes! I saw it on TikTok, and I wanted to see how you’d react,” you explained, still laughing.

She stared at you for a moment longer before rolling her eyes and walking toward you. “You so annoying, ma. Like, who does that?”

“You do,” you countered, grinning.

“Whatever.” She wrapped her arms around your waist and buried her face in your neck. “You play too much, but I love you. Just don’t do it again, I almost crashed out. ”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “We'll see.”

“Try me,” she teased, pulling back to smirk at you.

You laughed again, knowing full well you’d still find a way to mess with her again soon.

I take requests 🙏🏾

[prettymfwrites]

Forgotten Date Prank

Paige bueckers x Female reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・゜✭・.・。.

The camera’s red light blinked steadily, recording the scene unfolding in your shared apartment. You adjusted the tripod, making sure the angle was perfect before flipping the viewfinder around to check your framing. Perfect. You grinned mischievously to yourself, glancing over your shoulder to where Paige was sprawled on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on her ipad.

"Hey, guys! Welcome back to the channel!" you started brightly, clapping your hands together. "So today’s video is super special because my girl Paige has finally decided to plan a surprise date for us! Like, she's the cutest."

Paige’s head whipped up immediately, her blonde ponytail bouncing. “Wait, what?”

You ignored her, suppressing a smirk as you kept your attention on the camera. “I know, I was shocked too! I’ve been bugging her for months to take the lead and plan something on her own, and she finally did it! So today, we’re doing a GRWM for this dinner date.”

Paige’s brows furrowed, her lips parting slightly in confusion. “Ma, what are you talking about? I didn’t—”

"Shh!" You held up a finger, still grinning. "I’ll ask Paige what kind of look she’s envisioning for me, and we’ll go from there. Baby, what vibe are we going for? Glam? Natural? Something bold?"

Paige sat up straight now, her iPad forgotten as she stared at you in full-blown panic. “Baby, what? I didn’t plan—hold on—when is this date supposed to be?”

“Oh, you don't have to act like it's still a secret” you teased, swiping your makeup bag off the counter. “You’re so bad at surprises. Just tell me what I should wear so I don’t ruin the aesthetic.”

“Baby.” Paige’s voice cracked slightly, and you had to fight back a laugh. “I didn’t plan a date, What are you talking about? Are you messing with me?”

You glanced at her, face full of disbelief. “What? Are you serious right now? Paige, you texted me this morning, ‘Be ready at 7.’ Don’t tell me you forgot!”

Paige’s jaw dropped. “What?! I didn’t text you that!” She grabbed her phone, scrolling frantically. “Did I? No, there’s no way—I didn’t—hold on—”

“Babe, don’t tell me you’re flaking on our date already,” you said dramatically, turning to the camera with a fake pout. “Y’all see this? She planned a whole romantic evening and now she’s trying to back out.”

“Mama, stop lying on my name in front of them. ” Paige groaned, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t plan a date, I swear! Unless—wait—am I supposed to have planned a date? Did I forget something? Oh my God.”

You turned back to her, holding up a tube of lipstick. “So red or nude for the lips?”

Paige’s eyes darted between the lipstick and your face, her expression a mix of panic and confusion. “Uh—uh—nude, I guess? But seriously, baby, where are we going? What am I supposed to do?”

You held up your blush palette next. “Peachy cheeks or more bronzed?”

Paige slapped a hand to her forehead. “baby, look at me. If I forgot a date, you gotta tell me where it is so I can fix this! Like—give me something to work with. Is it fancy? Casual? Do I need to make reservations?”

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging. “You tell me.”

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. “You’re killing me. Killing me,” she muttered, staring at the ceiling. “Okay, okay, okay—think, Bueckers. What can I pull together in—” she glanced at the clock, “—two hours? Picnic? No, it’s too cold for that. Dinner? Do I have time to find a good restaurant? Maybe I can—”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laugh burst out of you, loud and uncontrollable, as you doubled over clutching your stomach.

Paige sat up, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute.” She pointed a finger at you. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“you're so cute” you gasped, still laughing. “Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face. You looked like a deer in headlights.”

Paige groaned, throwing a pillow at you. “Mama, why you gotta do me like that?! I was out here thinking I forgot our anniversary or something!”

You wiped a tear from your eye, still giggling. “I couldn’t resist. You were too easy to mess with.”

Paige shook her head, though a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “You’re evil. Straight up evil. I was about to sprint to the grocery store and buy some flowers or something.”

“You love me, though,” you said, grinning as you walked over to sit beside her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, pulling you into her lap. “But don’t think I won’t get you back for this.”

“Oh, I’m shaking,” you teased, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Paige rolled her eyes but smiled, wrapping her arms around you. “You’re lucky you’re cute, baby. Real lucky.”

I take requests💋

[prettymfwrites]

Prettymfwrites Official Masterlist<3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

A Masterlist to my fics💙 still in the process of editing so if there is some missing I'm sorry 🙏🏾

Paige Bueckers:

Forgotten Date Prank

Ellie Williams:

I'm Here

Ignoring Prank

Ink and Flannels

Pregnancy headcanons

Ink and Flannels pt. 2

Oblivious

Vi arcane:

Bar Fight

Caitvi Streamer Headcanons

CaitVi Streamer Headcanons pt. 2

You're stuck with us

[prettymfwrites]

paige x reader where in they pretend to be together because reader’s ex was in the bar with a new girl so r decides to just randomly kiss p? if you know that one scene from nick & norah’s infinite playlist it’s something like that 💕 i hope u give this one a try!

Not Pretending

Paige bueckers x female reader

Hope this doesn't disappoint! 🙏🏾

Sorry for any mistakes🙃

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･* *･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

The dim glow of the bar’s neon lights painted the room in shades of amber and red, the bass of the music reverberating through the floor as people crowded around tables and leaned against the bar. You were nursing your drink, trying to ignore the knot tightening in your stomach. Across the room, there they were: your ex, laughing and leaning into someone new, their hand brushing against hers in a way that felt far too familiar.

"Of all the places..." you muttered to yourself, tilting your glass back and downing what was left of your drink.

“Did you say something?” Paige asked from beside you, leaning her elbows casually on the counter. She was dressed in her usual relaxed streetwear, her blonde hair tucked into a braided pony. You had met her a few times before through mutual friends, and she’d somehow ended up as your companion for the evening after everyone else had bailed.

“Nothing. Just talking to my drink,” you replied with a forced laugh, setting your glass down.

Paige raised a brow, following your line of sight. “Oh, yikes. Is that your ex?”

“Unfortunately,” you said, trying to act unaffected. “And look who’s already moved on. A whole two months, and they’re out here playing house with someone new.”

Paige grimaced. “That’s rough.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered.

You tried to focus on anything else, but every laugh and touch between your ex and their date felt like salt in an open wound. You shifted in your seat, your jaw clenching as you turned away.

“You okay?” Paige asked, her tone softening.

“Yeah, totally fine. Just love seeing my replacement in 4K,” you said sarcastically, reaching for your empty glass before realizing it was, well, empty.

Paige chuckled. “You’re taking this like a champ, though. No tears or dramatic storming out.”

“Oh, I’m dramatic,” you shot back. “Just trying to figure out my next move.”

Paige tilted her head, her curious eyes narrowing. “What kind of move are we talking about here?”

You opened your mouth to answer but froze. An idea—a completely ridiculous, impulsive, and chaotic idea—popped into your head.

“Okay, don’t laugh,” you started, leaning closer to her.

“That’s a great way to make me want to laugh,” Paige teased, but she gestured for you to continue.

“What if...” you began, voice dropping, “you and I pretended to be together? Just for tonight. Nothing serious, just... to make them squirm a little.”

Paige blinked at you, then tilted her head back with a laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” you said, your eyes locked on hers. “Look, you don’t have to do anything crazy. Just... maybe hang out with me for a bit, be my fake girlfriend, and if they look over, we sell it.”

Paige smirked, clearly amused by your sudden proposal. “Okay, two things. One, you’re bold as hell for asking me this. And two... what’s in it for me?”

“I’ll owe you one,” you said quickly. “Big time. Like, I’ll buy you smoothies for a week or whatever you want. Just—please?”

Paige sighed dramatically, but there was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Alright, fine. Let’s do it. But you better make this worth my while.”

“Deal,” you said, standing up and holding out your hand. Paige took it, her grip firm as she followed you away from the bar.

You made sure to walk past your ex’s table, your hand still in Paige’s. As you approached, your ex glanced up, their expression shifting from surprise to something you couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, hey,” you said casually, as if you hadn’t noticed them until just now. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Uh, yeah,” your ex stammered, their eyes darting between you and Paige.

“And who’s this?” Paige asked smoothly, slipping her arm around your waist and smiling at your ex.

“This is...” You trailed off, waiting for your ex to fill in the blanks.

“Emily,” they said, gesturing to their date.

“Nice to meet you, Emily,” Paige said, her tone friendly but laced with just enough confidence to make it clear she wasn’t just a random friend. “I’m Paige.”

Your ex opened their mouth to respond, but before they could, you turned to Paige with a grin. “Baby, want to grab a booth? I’m kind of over standing around.”

“Anything for you,” Paige replied, her voice light but convincing as she pressed a quick kiss to your temple.

You swore you heard your ex choke on their drink as Paige led you away, her hand still firmly around your waist.

Once you were seated, you couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a natural.”

Paige shrugged, her smile smug. “What can I say? I commit to the bit.”

“Well, thanks for committing. I owe you one,” you said, leaning back in the booth.

She smiled, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “Good. Because I’m holding you to it.”

“No worries,” Paige said, taking a sip of her drink. “Honestly, that was kind of fun. Your ex looked like they were about to combust.”

“Good. They deserve it,” you said, smirking

______________

The night wore on with the two of you sitting close in the booth, trading stories and jokes, the comfortable banter punctuated by occasional glances from your ex across the room. At first, you thought you were imagining it, but each time you looked, there they were—staring, their expression unreadable.

“Yup, they’re watching again,” Paige murmured, sipping her drink.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “Think they’re jealous yet?”

Paige smirked, her blue eyes sparkling. “If they’re not, they’re in denial. You’re killing it tonight, by the way.”

You laughed softly. “I think you’re the one doing the heavy lifting here. Thanks for being so... convincing.”

“Convincing?” Paige tilted her head, her lips curling into a playful grin. “Come on, I’m practically Oscar-worthy.”

“Okay, fine. You’re a natural,” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself.

Her gaze lingered on you a second longer than necessary, and you felt your stomach do an unexpected flip. You brushed it off, chalking it up to the adrenaline of the situation.

As the night wound down, the two of you finally decided to leave. Paige stood first, offering you her hand with an exaggerated flourish. “M’lady.”

You laughed but took her hand anyway, letting her pull you to your feet. The warmth of her touch lingered longer than it should have, and as you made your way toward the exit, you couldn’t help but feel hyper-aware of how close she was to you.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your ex again. They weren’t just glancing this time—they were outright staring, their jaw tight, their date clearly trying to get their attention.

Without thinking, you stopped in your tracks, your heart racing.

“What?” Paige asked, turning to you, her brow furrowed.

“They’re still looking,” you whispered, your voice laced with irritation.

Paige raised a brow. “So? Let them look. You’ve already won.”

But you weren’t satisfied. Something about their gaze, their audacity to act so unbothered when you knew they were bothered, made you want to take things one step further.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you turned to Paige and grabbed her by the front of her jacket, pulling her down toward you.

“What are you—” Paige started, but her words were cut off as your lips pressed against hers.

For a second, it was just you making a point—a kiss meant to sell the charade, to make your ex regret every decision they’d ever made. But then Paige kissed you back.

Her hands found your waist, pulling you closer as she deepened the kiss, and suddenly, it wasn’t about your ex anymore. It was about the way her lips felt against yours, soft and sure, like she’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had. The world around you faded, the noise of the bar and the weight of the past dissolving into nothing.

When you finally broke apart, your breath came in short bursts, and Paige’s eyes were searching yours, her cheeks flushed.

“Are we even pretending anymore?” she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Not at all.”

Paige chuckled softly, her forehead resting against yours. “Good. Because I’m definitely not faking that.”

You laughed, your hand still clutching her jacket as you glanced toward the bar. Your ex was no longer looking—probably too stunned to process what they’d just seen.

“Guess we really sold it, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, but I think I want a few more practice runs,” Paige said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was hammering in your chest. “Smooth.”

Paige grinned, stepping back but keeping her hand in yours as you walked out of the bar together. The cool night air hit your face, but it didn’t matter. You were too busy stealing glances at the girl beside you, wondering how a fake relationship had turned into something that felt a little too real—and hoping she felt the same.

As if reading your mind, Paige squeezed your hand. “So... about those smoothies you owe me.”

You laughed, the tension between you easing into something warm and comfortable. “I’ll buy you as many as you want. Just... maybe come with me again next time. You know, in case my ex decides to show up somewhere else.”

Paige smirked, leaning closer. “Deal. But next time, we’re not pretending.”

“Not even a little bit.”

I take requests!🧡

[prettymfwrites]

Honey pack Prank 🍯

Paige bueckers x female reader

Summary: It had started as a normal day, with Paige dragging you out to help with errands you didn’t want to do. What you didn’t know was that Paige had been plotting her revenge ever since your last prank on her—and today, she had the perfect plan.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🍯　 🍯༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The car ride had been chill so far, and you left Paige in the car while you popped into the convenience store to grab a few things. What you didn’t know was that while you were inside, Paige was carefully stirring a honey pack into your iced coffee, grinning as she adjusted the camera she had set up on the dash.

“Y’all,” she whispered, glancing at the door to make sure you weren’t coming back yet. “She has no idea. None. And it’s already killing me not to touch her, but I’m about to make this so hard for her.” She giggled, sliding the coffee back into the cup holder as she saw you exit the store.

You opened the car door with an annoyed huff. “They were out of my favorite snacks. This day is already off to a bad start.”

Paige glanced at the camera for a split second before smiling at you. “Aw, poor baby. You got your coffee, though, right?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, taking a sip. You let out a content hum. “Okay, this is good, though. Maybe this’ll save my mood.”

Paige grinned, biting back a laugh as she pulled out of the parking lot. “Good. We’ve got a few more stops to make, mama. Hang in there with me.”

At first, everything was fine. You sipped your coffee, Paige teased you about your music choices, and it was all perfectly normal. But about twenty minutes later, you started feeling... off.

You shifted in your seat, tugging at the neckline of your shirt. “Is it just me, or is it kind of warm in here?”

Paige glanced at you briefly, feigning confusion. “Warm? Baby, it’s literally January. You good?”

“I don’t know,” you said, frowning. “I feel weird. Like... tingly or something. And warm. Definitely warm.”

“Hmm,” Paige said, her tone too casual. “Maybe you’re coming down with something?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “No, I don’t think so. I just... I don’t know. Can I have a kiss?”

Paige tightened her grip on the steering wheel, smirking to herself. “Mama, I’m driving.”

“So?” you said, leaning closer to her. “Just one. Come on, Paige.”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “Not while I’m driving, baby. You’re gonna have to wait.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Fine. But you owe me when we get home.”

“Oh, I know,” Paige said smoothly, her lips twitching.

Paige led you into the next store, where your restlessness only grew. You fanned yourself with your hand, tugging at your clothes every few seconds. “Seriously, why is it so hot in here?”

“It’s not hot,” Paige said, grabbing a shopping basket and shooting a glance at the camera she had discreetly placed in the cart. “You feeling okay, pretty?”

“No! I feel like I’m burning up, and I don’t even know why. And you’re just... standing there being you,” you snapped, gesturing at her.

“Being me?” Paige repeated, biting back a laugh. “What does that mean, baby?”

“You know what it means! You’re just walking around here being all fine, and it’s not helping!”

Paige stopped in her tracks, smirking. “So you think I’m fine?”

“Oh, don’t even start,” you muttered, covering your face with your hands. “Can we just get out of here already?”

“We still have a couple more things to grab,” Paige said, her voice teasing. “Patience, baby.”

You groaned, trailing after her like a lovesick puppy. Every time she stopped to grab something, you leaned against her, clutching her arm or resting your head on her shoulder.

“Can you hold my hand?” you asked, pouting up at her.

Paige laced her fingers through yours with a soft smile. “Better?”

“No,” you said, your voice muffled as you pressed your face into her arm. “I need more than this, Paige. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I feel so... ugh!”

Paige leaned down, her voice low and teasing. “Tell me what you need, mama.”

You pulled back, glaring at her. “You know what I need!”

Paige bit her lip as you walked away from her noticeably frustrated, glancing at the camera with an amused glint in her eyes. “Y’all, she’s making this so hard to do.”

By the time you made it back to the car, you were practically vibrating with frustration. “I don’t even care about the errands anymore. Can we please go home?”

Paige chuckled, patting your knee. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you home, pretty.”

When you finally got inside, you wasted no time stripping off your jacket and tugging at your shirt. “I’m burning up, Paige. I don’t know what’s happening, but I—”

You reached for the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it off, when Paige darted forward, grabbing your hands.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Paige said quickly, her voice a mix of laughter and panic. She moved to turn off the camera she’d set on the counter.

“What?” you asked, confused and flustered.

Paige grinned, holding up the empty honey pack. “It was a prank, mama. Payback for last time.”

Your jaw dropped. “Paige! Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” Paige said, laughing. “You messed with me first, baby. This is just karma.”

“You are so lucky I love you,” you muttered, glaring at her.

Paige leaned in, brushing her lips against yours. “I know, mama. And for the record? You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, even when you’re mad.”

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re still in trouble.”

Paige smirked, pulling you closer. “Worth it.”

🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯

I take requests babes! 💕

[prettymfwrites]

Wifey🤰🏾💍

Mom Paige bueckers x influencer mom female reader

Summary: You and Paige are married and have three kids... Which as quickly become a running joke.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The cozy hum of family life filled the kitchen as you set your phone up against the countertop for an impromptu Instagram Live. Parker was perched on your hip, her chubby hands fiddling with the strap of your tank top as her big brown eyes darted around with curiosity. Her soft coos melted your heart as you adjusted the angle of the phone, your face lighting up when the viewers started rolling in.

“Alright, y’all, don’t come for me about how tired I look,” you teased, glancing at the comments scrolling quickly on the screen. “This is mom life, okay? Three kids in five years. I’m running on iced coffee and vibes at this point.”

Parker gurgled, and you kissed her cheek softly. “Parker says hi, by the way. Say hi, baby,” you encouraged, lifting her tiny hand to wave at the screen.

The comments were already flying in:

“Y’all had another kid?!”

“At this point, Paige needs to chill.”

“Mama stays busy fr.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I swear, y’all love dragging Paige. She’s somewhere around here, probably eating something she didn’t ask me if she could have.”

Right on cue, you felt familiar arms slide around your waist from behind. Paige’s taller frame towered over you, and you felt her chin rest lightly on top of your head. She pressed close, her warmth immediately grounding you.

“There she is,” you said, laughing softly as the comments exploded. “And here comes the culprit.”

Parker lit up when she spotted Paige, letting out an excited squeal. Paige peeked down at the baby, grinning ear to ear. “Hi, Mama,” she cooed, her voice soft and playful as Parker reached out for her.

“Here, take her,” you said, passing Parker to Paige, who immediately kissed her baby’s cheek. The sight made your chest warm. Seeing Paige with your kids always hit you in a special way.

“Look at these two,” you said to the camera, your voice tinged with affection. “They look like twins.”

Paige stayed behind you, holding Parker with one arm while keeping the other securely around your waist. Her grip was gentle yet firm, a silent reminder of how much she adored you. You glanced at a comment that caught your eye.

“Let us see the nails.”

“Oh, okay!” you said, holding up your hand to the camera. Your fresh set gleamed, and the delicate cursive "P" on your ring nail caught the light. “What do y’all think? I wanted something simple this time.”

Before you could pull your hand away, Paige leaned closer, pointing at the nail. “Y’all see this? This my baby. My wife. That ‘P’ don’t stand for anyone but me,” she declared proudly.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Relax, Buckets. You know they know I’m yours.”

Paige smirked, her free arm snaking back around your waist to pull you even closer. The comments started to get even more chaotic:

“Paige, get off her!”

“Doctor, it’s loose again!”

“Sis can’t breathe, let her go.”

“Okay, so y’all thinking boy or girl for the next one?”

Paige laughed loudly, leaning her forehead against the back of your head. “If y’all had a woman like this, you wouldn’t be able to stay off her either. Be real.”

You turned your head to give her a side-eye. “Paige, don’t start.”

“Oh, I’ve been started,” she teased, pressing a series of soft kisses on your shoulder. Parker babbled happily in her arms, as if agreeing with her mama.

You couldn’t help but laugh along with her, your heart full in a way that words couldn’t quite capture. Turning your attention back to the live, you read aloud one more comment: “Seriously, Paige, leave the poor woman alone!”

“Y’all act like I don’t love this,” you said, smiling knowingly. “I married her for a reason, didn’t I?”

Paige grinned behind you, placing another kiss on your shoulder. “You sure did. You stuck with me now, baby.”

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[prettymfwrites]

Hickey Prank💋

Paige Bueckers x Female Reader

♥*♡∞:｡.｡　 　｡.｡:∞♡*♥

The camera light flickered on, and you adjusted your position on the couch to ensure the perfect angle. “Alright, y’all,” you began, your voice low but brimming with excitement. “Welcome back to the channel! You already know it’s about to go down. Paige is at practice right now, and I’ve got the best prank lined up. Y’all, I’m giving myself a fake hickey.”

You held up the makeup palette, smirking. “She’s been talking about how people in the comments call her overprotective. So, let’s see just how protective my girl really is.”

Carefully, you applied a mix of purple and reddish-brown tones to your neck, blending until the mark looked disturbingly realistic. Stepping back from the mirror, you admired your work. “Not gonna lie, I might’ve missed my calling as a makeup artist.” You leaned into the camera for a close-up.

“What do we think? Looks legit, right?”

After setting up the camera in its usual spot, you grabbed a blanket and settled on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone like it was just another normal day. The anticipation made your heart race. Paige would be home any minute, and you knew her well enough to expect fireworks.

The front door creaked open, and you heard Paige’s keys drop into the bowl by the door. “Bae?” her voice echoed from the hallway.

“In the living room!” you called, keeping your tone casual, though your nerves buzzed.

She appeared moments later, her blonde hair slightly damp from her post-practice shower, wearing a pair of loose sweats and her favorite hoodie. Paige had that post-practice glow about her, and despite the prank, you couldn’t help but admire her for a second.

Her warm smile faltered as her eyes locked onto your neck. She froze mid-step, her brows furrowing. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” you replied nonchalantly, not looking up from your phone.

She dropped her gym bag by the couch and stood in front of you, her head tilted as her eyes narrowed. “Don’t ‘what’s what’ me, mama. What’s on your neck?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a grin. “Oh, this?” You pointed to the spot as if you had just remembered it. “It’s nothing. Probably just a bruise.”

“Bruise?” Paige echoed, her voice carrying an edge now. She crouched down so she was eye-level with you, her expression unreadable. “Y/N, look at me.”

You hesitated for a moment, playing it up before finally meeting her gaze. Her hand came up to gently tilt your chin. Her thumb hovered near the mark, her jaw tightening.

“Baby, where did you get this?” she asked quietly, her tone even but laced with an unmistakable tension.

“I told you—it’s nothing,” you said, shrugging, though your heart pounded.

She let out a humorless chuckle and stood up, pacing in front of the couch. “You’re really gonna sit there and lie to my face? After everything?”

“Paige, it’s not that serious—”

“Not that serious?” Paige cut you off, spinning around to face you. Her eyes burned with a mix of frustration and hurt. “You’ve got a hickey on your neck, and I’m just supposed to sit here and think, ‘Oh, that’s no big deal’? You’re killing me, baby. ”

You bit the inside of your cheek harder, determined to keep a straight face. “Paige, you’re overreacting. It’s nothing.”

She scoffed, running a hand through her damp hair. “Overreacting? Alright, then explain it to me. Who put it there?” She was leaning against the arm of the couch now, arms crossed, her usually soft demeanor replaced with a hardened edge.

“Why does it matter?” you shot back, testing the waters. You needed to push just far enough to sell it without Paige getting too upset. But the flicker of pain in her eyes almost made you fold. Almost.

Paige let out a shaky breath and moved back in front of you, crouching again. “Baby,” she said softly, though her voice was strained, “don’t play with me right now. Tell me who touched you.”

You held her gaze, pretending to hesitate. “I—I don’t know. It was just—”

“You don’t know?” Paige’s voice cracked slightly as she pulled back, standing to pace again. “You don’t know? Y/N, come on. Don’t do this to me.”

“Paige—”

“No,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I need to think.” She paced the length of the room, running her hands through her hair, muttering to herself. “Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe it’s not what I think. Maybe—”

You had to bite your lip hard to keep from laughing. You weren’t expecting her to spiral like this. Finally, you decided it was time to end her torment before it went too far.

“Paige, baby,” you said, standing up and reaching for her hand.

She flinched slightly at your touch, her eyes searching yours for answers. “What?” she said, her voice quieter now, almost resigned.

“It’s a prank,” you blurted out, unable to keep a straight face anymore. “It’s makeup, baby.”

Her brows furrowed as she processed your words. “What?”

“It’s fake,” you said, grabbing a makeup wipe from the coffee table. You handed it to her. “Here, see for yourself.”

Paige snatched the wipe, her expression still skeptical. She tilted your chin again, her touch more hesitant this time, and began rubbing at the mark. When the makeup smeared onto the wipe, her hand stilled, and she let out a deep, shaky exhale.

“You’re kidding me,” she muttered, shaking her head as she tossed the wipe onto the table. She stepped back, her hands on her hips, her head tilted up toward the ceiling as she let out a long sigh.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” you said, trying to stifle your giggles.

Paige turned to you, her lips twitching like she was fighting a smile. “You’re so lucky I didn’t lose my mind for real. Do you know what was going through my head, ma? I thought we were done—like, over.”

“I didn’t mean to stress you out that bad,” you said, wrapping your arms around her waist. “It was just a prank.”

She let herself relax into your embrace, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve got no idea how close you were to being in trouble for real.”

You grinned against her hoodie. “So…you’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m mad,” she said, pulling back to look at you with a playful glare. “But I’m also impressed. That was pretty good.”

“Thank you,” you said, laughing.

“But don’t get too comfortable,” she added, her lips curving into a smirk. “You just started something, mama. This is war now.”

You groaned, laughing as she grabbed the camera. “Alright, y’all,” Paige said, pointing to the lens. “Y/N thinks she’s funny, but don’t worry—Team Paige, I’ve got something for her. Stay tuned.”

You reached for the camera, laughing. “No, no, no. Y’all, don’t encourage her!”

Paige kissed your cheek before ending the recording, her eyes still glinting with mischief. “You better sleep with one eye open tonight, baby.”

And just like that, the prank wars were officially on.

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[prettymfwrites]

I love this

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.

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