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kamaluhkhan · 6 months ago

Text

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember.

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers.

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.”

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.”

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control.

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.”

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top.

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you.

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips.

“why’s that?” you ask.

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go.

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins.

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?”

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being.

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults.

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world.

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!”

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them.

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac:

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work.

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor.

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?”

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs.

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do.

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party.

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke.

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways.

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow.

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says.

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out:

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi.

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with.

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you.

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.”

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws.

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….”

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time.

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?”

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again.

so, you do remember.

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years.

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue.

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure?

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses.

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave.

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating.

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun.

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision.

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try.

“you know powder’s graduating this year?”

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision.

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely.

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed.

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.”

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…”

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.”

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge.

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.”

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you.

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please.

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice.

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd.

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand.

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock.

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you.

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile.

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace.

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you.

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out.

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —”

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?”

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying.

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry.

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21.

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house.

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass.

“you remember.”

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.”

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be.

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours.

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp.

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —”

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder.

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor.

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego.

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you.

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers.

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks.

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away.

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart.

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time.

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to.

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.”

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work.

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door.

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying.

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear.

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear.

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her.

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl.

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes.

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake.

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi. “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek.

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away.

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone.

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move.

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath.

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs.

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin.

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head.

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open."

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer.

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit. you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple.

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess.

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving.

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream.

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers.

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another.

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash.

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before.

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?”

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand.

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday.

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back.

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.”

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling.

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours.

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.”

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.”

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round. “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.”

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder.

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye.

“i better go.”

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room.

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later.

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s.

i’ll see you later. love you!

2K notes · View notes

bunnis-monsters · 2 months ago

Text

Your puppy girl

Fem!Werewolf x Fem!Reader

a/n: Patreon and kofi got to read this nearly 2 months early! This was a commission ^^

warnings: somno, pet play, pussy eating, fingering, panty stealing

WC: 5k+

In the dead of winter, the outside world looked more and more like a blank canvas ready to be painted upon each day that passed.

You have always enjoyed this time of year. Although the cold may bring unpleasant feelings and sickness, it could bring community and so much warmth as well.

People banded together when snow began to fall, offering shelter and food to those in need.

You were no different.

It had been a normal day, with the usual drama at work and a busy ride home. All you wanted was some peace and quiet in the sanctity of your cozy apartment… unfortunately, many things would happen that changed your life forever.

If only you had people to spend such a lonely and isolating winter with.

You spent most days alone. No significant other, no hobbies that made life worth living. If you were being honest with yourself, you were just living day to day, hoping to find something that gave you the strength to keep going.

For now, though, you would work, eat, sleep, and do the same thing the next day. No friends, no close friends…

Just you.

The sun was finally setting, and you stared out at the orange and red hues as they danced across the sky. Never before had you seen such a beautiful sunset.

It wasn’t like you to linger by the steps of your apartment for very long after you returned home. Usually, you were quick to get inside so you could take off your heavy winter coat and relax by the fire.

However you stopped to stare at that beautiful sunset, just long enough for some strange events to be set into motion.

While staring out into the sky, you heard something from the woods nearby. It sounded like someone, or well, something crying out to any nearby people for help.

Your first thought was an animal had fallen into the pond out in the woods and gotten itself hurt. It wasn’t uncommon, but something made you doubt that theory.

“Could be a wounded animal… or someone in need of help.”

Either way, you weren’t going to wait around while the owner of that voice was in the freezing cold, possibly hurt and scared.

You could remember what that was like. There had been times in the past when you were left all alone, abandoned in your time of need.

It wasn’t right to stand by while others suffered.

The path into the woods was slick with ice and snow, and you had to hold onto a nearby tree when you slipped and almost fell on your ass. You really weren’t wearing the correct shoes to be trudging through the slurry of icy mud and snow but there wasn’t time for a change of clothes and foot apparel,

The cries grew louder the further you trekked. As you passed the undisturbed pond, you were relieved to know no one had fallen into it. You weren’t sure if you would have been able to help someone if they had.

By the time you reached what was making the noise, the volume of its cries had risen so high that you could hardly heat anything else.

What seemed to be a medium sized dog was laying on the ground on its side, howling and barking before letting out those familiar heart wrenching cries.

Its fur was dark brown, almost black, but with the little light that remained you could see its true color.

“Hey…”

The dog went quiet when you spoke. With its ears perked up, you could tell it was on high alert.

“Are you hurt, little one?”

You crouched down, examining its pelt. There seemed to be no obvious injuries besides its leg being a bit… off looking. “Must of sprained your ankle… with how slippery these paths are, I can understand how.”

Usually, a stray or wild dog wouldn’t let you touch it, but this one didn’t seem to mind when you hoisted it up and walked on your way home. “You’re a big and fluffy thing, aren’t you?”

It was bigger than usual, and you made sure to walk slow and steady through the icy woods. Tripping and falling onto this already scared and injured animal wouldn’t turn out well for either of you.

The first thing you did when you got home was try off their fur. Placing it in front of a heater, you rubbed the towel over its pelt, watching as it closed its eyes in contentment while warm air flowed towards its face.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

The more this dog relaxed in your presence, the more you figured it was someone’s pet. Why else would it be so calm while injured?

After it was warm and dry, you ran your fingers through its fur, thoroughly examining each part of its body to make sure there were no other wounds.

There were a few scratches and cuts, but each one was either old or already healing up. The sprained ankle was what you were most worried about.

As you began examining the bruised and swollen ankle, the fog sniffed at your shoulder and neck, giving your cheek a lick. You smiled down at it, scratching behind its ear. “I bet you have an owner, hmm? You’re a sweet pup.”

Its tail wagged at your words, that seemed to make it happy.

“Isn’t that better?” you cooed, looking down at its bandaged foot. The dog stood and took a few cautious steps. When it realized it could walk slowly without much pain, it barked and wagged its tail before sniffing you again.

“I’ll have to take you to the shelter tomorrow… your owner is probably worried sick.”

You would have done so that night, but carrying a heavy dog home and working a full day had you exhausted. Besides, what animal shelter would be open past 8 pm?

You got to work making yourself some dinner, feeding the dog some of the food from your plate. Pets weren’t really allowed in your complex and any strays were chased off by your landlord, so you didn’t keep any dog food on you.

It gobbled up anything you gave it, sitting by your side as you ate at the kitchen table. A slobbery pink tongue lapped at your hand, licking up any leftover bits of food.

“Hey, ew!” you giggled out, wiping your hand on your jeans. “Sorry, I know you must be hungry. I have some ham in the fridge…”

As it ate some leftover ham, you went to shower.

Walking around with only a towel, you lifted an eyebrow when you noticed the dog was gone. Hoping it hadn’t run to some corner of your apartment to take a piss and ruin your deposit, you began to look for it.

“C’mere, pup…” you called out, glancing behind your couch. “I got some more ham, c’mon. I gotta take you outside to use the bathroom before I go to bed.”

When you couldn’t find it in the living room, bathroom, or even the storage closet, you turned towards your room. The door was cracked open, when you remembered closing it that morning.

For some reason, you felt… uneasy. There was this primal fear that there were predatory eyes on you, and the hair on your beck was standing on end.

“Hello..?”

You flicked on the light to your bedroom, immediately spotting a lump in your plush comforter. Your shoulders relaxed and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding.

“Ah, this is where you went… you have to get off of my bed. I haven’t given you a bath and you could have fleas or-“

The words died in your throat as you yanked off the comforter.

Instead of the ball of fluff you had been expecting to see, your eyes were met with a woman around your age, curled up in your bed.

She stared up at you with wild, yellow eyes, a pair of dog ears on top of her head perking up.

The woman was completely nude, blinking in shock before skittering back. Her back pressed against your headboard, and you stared back with your jaw agape.

It took you both a moment to process what was going on.

Should you scream? Was this a fight or flight situation?

Surprisingly, you were way calmer than you thought you would have been in a situation like this. For god’s sake, there was a naked woman in your bed and you sure as hell hadn’t scheduled a booty call!

“Don’t… be upset.”

The woman’s voice was deep, almost soothing. Her yellow eyes flicked up to meet yours, and she slowly pulled her leg out from under the blanket.

Bandages covered her ankle… this was-

“Oh my god.”

The dog ears, they weren’t some kind of accessory. No… they were real, and so was that tail you could see wagging nervously.

“I’m not human… that’s obvious. I will explain, I swear…” the woman sighed, the dark bags under her eyes crinkling slightly. “But I’m so tired, and the winter this year is harsh. Please… could I stay the night? I’ll tell you all you want to know in the morning…”

You stood there, contemplating your choices. While you were still flabbergasted at the situation you had gotten yourself into, you were able to slowly steady your racing heart.

The situation has not truly changed all that much. There was a being that needed your help, and you had brought that dog home knowing it could bite you or spread disease.

Could you not give an at least partial human being the same courtesy you gave an animal? It would be… inhumane to kick her out into the cold while she was injured and naked, especially when it was pitch black outside.

“… go to the living room, I’ll bring you a change of clothes.”

The woman darted past you with a swiftness that wouldn’t come easy to a human being of a similar stature. She really wasn’t human, but you weren’t quite sure what “non-human” was.

As you gathered an oversized shirt and some pajama pants that would be bagger on her lean frame, you pondered what exactly your next step should be.

When morning would come, what would you do?

Your original plan had been to take the dog to the shelter. It wasn’t feasible for you to take care of an animal while you were living in a tiny apartment.

This was different, though. The shelter wouldn’t accept her, of course not, but you weren’t sure if a human shelter would accept her either.

“Thank you…” she said softly, looking up through her thick eyelashes. When you paid more attention, you noticed how pretty she was. Yellow eyes that shone in the dim light of your living room, soft looking black hair, and a nice figure…

“It’s no problem. We’ll talk in the morning, alright? Get some sleep.”

You locked your door that night. Despite being kind enough to let a stranger into your home, your big heart didn’t make you stupid.

After you were sound asleep, the woman stood, her cheeks flushed a dark pink. There was a smell that had her body trembling with need, and she had been struggling to contain her lust all night.

She snuck into the bathroom, searching around silently until she found the source of that smell that drove her crazy.

A pair of lacy panties, the crotch slightly damp. She could remember you emitting a smell of arousal earlier when you were on your phone, and she was incredibly curious.

What had gotten you this worked up?

She lifted the pair to her nose, taking an intense whiff before letting out a shuddering moan. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as the heavenly scent filled her nostrils.

It was a bit embarrassing, but she slowly poked out her tongue to lick the damp spot, immediately growing wet at your taste.

You had been so kind to her, for no reason at all. When most people and werewolves alike would have swiftly abandoned an injured pup like her, you instead let her into her home.

Not only did you care for her wounds, but you fed and even clothed her.

She was just smitten.

Her hand moved to her now clothed cunt. She felt a bit guilty getting the pajamas you gave her dirty, but she couldn’t help but touch herself through the fabric.

“Mmph…”

The sound of her tail wagging and thumping against the floor could be heard by the downstairs neighbors. She was too busy getting off to the thought of devouring your pretty pussy to notice…

In the morning, you called in sick to work. It just wouldn’t be possible for you to leave this… person in your house while you were gone.

“Alright, you promised you’d explain,” you said, placing a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of her. “Get to talking.”

You waited patiently as she wolfed down the breakfast you had prepared for her. She seemed even hungrier than she had been the night before, if it was possible.

“So… I’m a werewolf.”

Well, that wasn’t a huge shock. The revelation made relative sense, she could turn into a dog-like creature after all.

“I thought werewolves were like… big, hairy monsters. You turn into a medium sized dog.”

The woman huffed at that, waving her fork. “Well sorry, but over time werewolves have bred with basic humans and our transformations have become weaker each generation. Only a selective few can muster a full transformation, and they’re usually from families that do… the whole inbreeding thing.”

You rubbed your temple. Learning about werewolves at all wasn’t something you were super interested in, and now she was giving you more info than you needed.

“Alright, alright. You’re a werewolf. What about your living situation?”

The mood changed, the woman’s eyes becoming a bit dark and distant as she looked away.

“… even for my generation, my transformation is weak. I was kicked out of my pack when I came of age, and I’ve been pretty much winging it ever since.”

It was quiet for a moment. The situation she was in reminded you of many stories you heard from other people. Fresh adults being kicked out for being different, it was a tale as old as time.

“I see…”

Something clicked in your mind as you watched the way she curled up on your couch, her knees pressing against her chest.

“You don’t have anywhere to stay?”

With a nod, she took another bite of the second you heaped onto her plate. “Nope…”

You hoped you wouldn’t regret what you were about to say.

“This winter has been pretty harsh so far… alright. At least until winter is over, you can stay here.”

Maybe with another person living with you, even for just a while, you’d be less lonely during the most depressing season of the year.

She perked up, her tail beginning to wag as her eyes brightened. “You mean it? I can-“

“You’ll be paying for your own rent and food, of course.”

This made her pout a little, which you found strangely cute. “Of course… I can hunt for my own food. We can discuss rent after a shower, I’m sure I don’t smell very pleasant.”

She wasn’t wrong.

You curled up in bed after a long day. After taking her to buy some clothes and essentials, she handed over a wad of cash to be used for rent. It seemed she had enough money to keep herself afloat…

Renting wasn’t easy though, and you could understand why. Hiding her nature proved difficult. She was kicked out of several places for having a pet she wasn’t supposed to… but the werewolf was the very dog they accused her of having.

You turned on your side, rubbing your tired eyes. Work was a must, and you refused to miss another day.

Once you drifted off and your breathing evened out, your door creaked open.

A pair of yellow eyes peeked into your room, the soft swishing sound of her tail wagging mixing with the soft hum of your heater.

Like a true predator of the night, she snuck closer. It was easy to climb into your bed without your noticing. You were a heavy sleeper, and she was stealthy.

Her eyes settled on your breasts, your pretty nipples poking your thin shirt. The air was a bit chilly, she had noticed that when she walked in.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up…’

You were her savior, and all she wanted to do was repay you!

And maybe she was a little horny too…

Her fingers toyed with your nipples through your shirt as her knee rubbed against your clothed cunt.

She gave your breasts a squeeze, her wolf ears twitching when you whined in your sleep. ‘Ahh, so cute…’

After she gave you a nuzzle with her nose, she peppered kisses along your neck and chest, licking your exposed skin.

Taking off your shirt without waking you wasn’t easy, but she was fast and good at reading your body language.

Her lips wrapped around one of your nipples, and she began lightly humping your leg as she suckled gently. Your panties were getting wet, and the way she was toying with your clit through the damp fabric wasn’t helping things.

That pretty pussy of yours was oozing with arousal, and she abandoned your breasts immediately. Her eyes locked onto your panties, and she pulled them back just enough to get a good look at you.

From your puffy lips to your cute, throbbing clit, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Already, drool fell down her chin and she couldn’t help but give you a little lick.

You tasted like Heaven, and she was addicted.

Soon her tongue was buried in your pussy, her hands keeping your thighs apart. You squirmed and whined in your sleep, and she had to pull away before you came.

Even with her skill, she was surprised you hadn’t woken up yet. Now she knew how much she could get away with before you were stirred from sleep…

After she dressed you again, the werewolf girl left your room, yearning for more.

How could she please you next?

For the next week or so, you became well acquainted with your new puppy.

Most of the time, she acted more like a dog than a human. When you got home from work, she’d jump up from wherever she’d been sitting and run to the door, sniffing and nuzzling against you.

You figured it was just a thing werewolves did, and didn’t question how quickly she had bonded with you.

More often than not you’d spot her making some sort of nest out of your blanket and clothes, all curled up and happy. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, per say, but you wished she wouldn’t get your blankets and clothes all filthy with dirt and some kind of sticky substance.

Was she eating something gooey while bundled up..? It smelled… musky…

You scratched her head, letting out a sigh as she carried around your hoodie. “It’s the middle of winter now. You don’t have any warm clothes, do you?”

She thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No, not really. It’s been hard finding work because I have nothing to wear.”

You rubbed your temple. “I have my day off tomorrow… I was going to pig out on snacks and sleep in, but I guess we’ll go shopping instead.”

She didn’t seem to sense your annoyance, and only gave your hand a happy lick before climbing into your lap.

That was normal, right? Her licking your face, curling up in your lap, and nibbling on your neck and ears was just… common werewolf behavior, wasn’t it?

In the morning, she bundled up in one of your coats and followed after you as the two of you walked along the icy sidewalks. Snow fell lazily, covering the hood of your jacket.

“I’ve never been shopping before.”

You glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “Where did you get your clothes from, then?”

Her eyes hardened, and she opened the first shop door with a huff. “When I was in my pack, we stayed in our wolf forms. No need for clothes… and when I was kicked out, I stole and looked through dumpsters.”

Your heart clenched in your chest. It hurt knowing such a friendly girl had been thrown out for not meeting the pack’s standards.

“Well, shopping is pretty fun. C’mon.”

The two of you started off with some casual winter clothes. Long sleeved shirts, pants, and lots of layers. She favored earthy colors like green and brown, but you noticed a few pink and yellow items in her bag.

“Your shoes are worn out, let’s find you a better pair of boots.”

You helped her try on multiple pairs before she settled on some brown boots with fluffy pompoms. “Ahh, these are very warm and sturdy…”

“The pompoms are cute, too. You look good in them.”

Her cheeks flushed pink at your compliment, and her tail thumped around under her skirt. You had to be careful, someone would notice her tail moving.

Before leaving the house, you covered her ears and tail. If someone found out what she was, you’d both be in danger.

“… come on, let’s go to the next store.”

On your way to find her some underwear and bras, she turned towards a pet store. Her eyes were on a picture of a dog on the front window.

“This is a pet store..?” you whispered as she browsed the selection. Despite your words, the werewolf continued to look through the dog treats.

“Guess I’ll leave you to it.”

You walked around the store, only glancing at the shelves for a moment before moving on.

There were Christmas decorations covering the shelves, making you remember that it was only a few days before the holiday.

‘Guess I can get her a little something…’

You peaked into the aisle, watching as she stared at a frilly pink collar, with a bell and ribbon at the front. She picked it up, jingling the bell and letting out an interested “ooo”.

After getting home, you wrapped up the collar and leash with your cheeks warm with embarrassment.

Imagining her with that collar on… made you feel strange.

On Christmas morning, she yawned as you placed a plate of waffles in front of her. She didn’t seem to know about the holiday, so you petted her head before bringing her to the tree.

Over the past month, the two of you had become close and you had come to care for her. She made everything a lot less lonely, and you wanted to repay her.

“This is for you…”

She blinked as you set the present in her lap. Her tail began to wag, and she unwrapped it quickly.

When she pulled out the pink collar, her eyes widened. “You… got this for me?”

Her entire face was red, and her tail thumped against the floor so hard it looked like it hurt.

“I just wanted to thank you. It’s been nice having someone around for a change…”

You weren’t good at this. It had been several years since you last have someone a gift, and never before had you gifted a collar and leash.

She stared down at the collar for a moment before she pickled the clasp atound her neck, her yellow eyes looking up at you.

“I love it… but I didn’t get you anything…”

For a moment she seemed guilty, her wolf ears flattening against her head. This didn’t last for long.

Her eyes sparkled when she had an idea. Suddenly, her leash was in your hand, and she sat at your feet like an obedient puppy as she pawed at your pajama pants.

“W-what are you doing?” you stuttered out, yelping when she pulled down your pants and buried her face into your clothed cunt.

“This is your present…”

She licked you through your panties, letting out a happy yip when she tasted your arousal. It was her favorite!

“B-but..!”

You groaned, your hand grabbing a fistful of her hair. It felt too good, her tongue was long and a bit rough. You could feel it, even through your thick cotton panties.

“You always like it when I lick here…” she said with a sigh, looking up at you dreamily. “Nearly wakes you up sometimes…”

It took you a few seconds to process the implication behind her words. “You do this when I’m sleeping?!”

She nodded, nuzzling her nose against your panties. “Of course! I have to make my mate happy and relaxed!”

Her… mate?

It was clear that werewolves had a different idea of what was and wasn’t allowed. Still, you huffed and pulled her closer, pulling your panties to the side.

“If this is a gift, then do it right, pup.”

You tugged on her leash, and she complied immediately.

Her tongue lapped at your folds, as if testing the waters. When she wasn’t fast enough, you have her leash another tug. “C’mon, don’t act shy now. You’ve been eating my pussy for a month while I sleep, now get in there.”

She whined a bit, her cheeks red when she latched onto your clit. It throbbed in her mouth, and she suckled gently while her pants clutched your soft thighs.

She moved her mouth to your hole, lapping at it before pushing her tongue in. Your pussy was dripping, and she licked up every single drop.

“Use your fingers too, pup…”

Tentatively, she pushed a finger into you, moving it in and out. When you let out a satisfied moan, her tail began to pick up speed. “Like this?”

“Mhm… such a good girl…”

You cupped her cheek, watching her eat you out. Her cute, pink tongue moved out your clit as she inserted another finger, stretching you out a bit.

“Mmm… lay down for me, okay?”

Like the obedient puppy she was, she immediately laid on her back. Her fluffy tail was tucked between her legs, a sign of submission.

“Lemme see…”

You moved her tail out of the way, smirking at how wet she had gotten. “All this from tasting my pussy? Such a naughty girl…”

Your thumb brushed against her clit, and her back arched up. She was so desperate and sensitive, her tongue poking out as she panted heavily.

“Patience…”

You hooked her leash onto the couch, offering her your pussy as you moved to eat out hers. 69ing had being something you had only seen in porn, and you were excited to try.

Instantly she was drawn to your pushy, devouring it like a mindless beast. You moved your hips, riding her face a bit before you leaned down to get your first taste of her.

She almost tasted sweet, and you were quick to bury your tongue into her cunt. The little noises she made while you explored her with your tongue and fingers were adorable, and you held down her hips every time she tried to buck them into your mouth.

“Easy, pup. Keep doing that and I’ll stop.”

It was so hard to control herself, so she took out her frustration on your cunt. She sucked on your fat pussy lips, ignoring your engorged clit. It seemed like she was being a bit of a brat.

You’d have to fix that.

With a yank of her collar, you cooed and guided her mouth back to your clit. “Right there, puppy. Such a silly girl, don’t even know where to make me feel good do you? You wouldn’t do that on purpose, you’re supposed to be my sweet puppy.”

She blushed, and obediently went back to suckling on your clit. One hand stayed at your cunt, pumping her fingers in and out, while the other one held onto your plump ass.

“That’s my girl…”

To reward her good behavior, you added another finger, stretching out her hole. “See what good puppies get? They get their cunt stretched out.”

“I-I’m a good puppy! Promise!” she babbled around your clit, suckling harder. “I wanna make you feel good…”

You smiled, giving her clit another lick before latching on. You could feel her body trembling beneath you, and orgasm incoming. She was so close, and since she was being a good pup you decided to let her cum.

As she came, you started to ride her face clit brushing against her nose. She was in a daze, completely absorbed in your pussy and scent.

The only thing she could think about was how happy she was when you came in her mouth.

Once the two of you were thoroughly satisfied, you held her limp body in your lap. You squeezed her tits with one hand, the other rubbing circles into her overstimulated clit.

“Who’s my good puppy?”

She whimpered, keeping her legs open for you.

“Me…”

After this, the two of you decided it was best if she simply continued to live with you. After all, you were lonely and she had nowhere else to go. It was a win-win!

Every morning you woke up to her licking your cunt through your panties, ready to start the day by pleasing her mate. She was basically attached to your cunt, always wanting to be between your legs.

When you left, she missed you so much that she’d chew on your panties when you were gone, rubbing the clothing item between her legs and cumming all over them.

Of course, you didn’t mind at all. You had grown fond of her, and the two of you became a thing.

As she held your hand while walking to a restaurant for dinner, her pink collar jingled and you couldn’t help but tug a bit on her leash to hear that sweet sound again.

Your sweet pup was as happy as could be, and you were as well.

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