#the lovers VI

[prickly-paprikash]

Can't believe Vander and Silco made sure to pass on their romantic inclinations to their daughters.

This family is foesexual. They oppsromantic. They've no interest in you if you ain't willing to beef with each other once or twice during the relationship.

Vi and Jinx's taste in partners is anyone who can square tf up against them. They learned from their papas.

[biseugen]

Anti‐X icons

[silvereine]

getting fucked by your sleep paralysis demon, frozen in place. you have no choice but to take him as he slams his monstrous cock into your warm, tight cunt over and over again, filling you up to the brim. waking up in the morning thinking what a weird dream you had until you feel his sticky white goo sliding down your thighs <3

[penbattles]

The Lovers

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COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!!

[jjkyaoi]

“what’s gayer the lesbian sex or jayvik” the lesbians. the canon lesbians. can we focus on women loving women relationships for once and not try to bring ur fucking fake yaoi into Everything oh my god y���all piss me tf OFF

[arrakisser]

yeah.

[centaur-dreaming]

stOP HURTING HER!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!

[ysaona]

I need to get in between her legs. *ੈ𑁍༘⋆

[unoislazy]

Promises

Vi x Reader (Part One)

(Childhood friends to lovers)

You and Vi had been friends for as long as you could remember, which is why it took you by surprise she would make such a irrational decision without telling you.

A/N:Just a little something something. A prologue, if you will.

For as long as you can remember you’ve been part of the undercity. Such a fate never really bothered you. Your family life was broken and your chance of survival was quite low, but you miraculously had made some friends who looked out for you, and you did the same for them.

And among that group of friends was a girl whom you grew to care about to a deeper extent than you could ever even begin to fathom.

When she wasn’t out stealing or picking fights with people, she was with you, hanging out and having fun. Forgetting what horrors life in the caverns below the glistening city of progress held.

That girl, of course, was Vi.

You walked through the darkened streets of the city, your feet carelessly walking through puddles of water that was contaminated with liquids you’d rather not waste your thoughts on finding out. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone looking to pick a fight, and keeping yourself as compact as possible incase you needed to book it. Such is the way of the fissures.

Your tensed state lasted only until you reached your usual hang out spot, The Last Drop. It was owned by Vander, a man with a big heart and even bigger gauntlets. He looked out for any kid that crossed his path, despite how weak it made him seem to some of the others around him, who grew restless with his complaisance in the grand structure of things.

That, however, did not concern you. All you cared for was seeing your best friend.

Just before you could fling the door open and make your usual obnoxious entrance, the door opened with a swift tug and almost caused you to stumble forward.

You looked up slightly and made eye contact with none other than Vi.

But something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

Her eyes fluttered open a little wider than they normally rested, her pupils focusing on your quickly as she moved back a bit in the door way. Clearly she wasn’t expecting you.

“Vi, What’s up?” You asked, a smile on your face to mask your concerns but anyone with a brain could see past it without much effort. Your eyebrows creased as you realized she was no longer looking at you. The pink haired girl let out a quick sigh before grabbing your hand and moving past you.

“Come on.” She said in a quieter tone than normal. You of course followed suit with little to no arguments, your main concern was just figuring out what was wrong. It wasn’t long before she stopped, taking you both into an alley way only a few feet from the bar as she let go of your hand. You couldn’t help but notice the absence of warmth as she did, but you shook the thought from you head nonetheless as you looked back toward her.

“Vi?” You called out quietly, moving your face a bit more towards your line of sight, almost as if you were forcing her to look at you. This only resulted in another sigh before she took a pause. She wanted to say something.

She was dying to say something.

“Vi, whatever it is, would you just spill it. You’re killing me here.” You remarked sarcastically, trying to lighten the very clearly damper mood as you continued to stare at her.

She then, finally, turned back towards you. She moved her bandages hands gently on to both of your shoulders as she stared at you.

“You remember that job that went to shit topside right?” She asked, now looking you dead in the eyes. Her blue eyes seemed to care the weight of a lot of stress, a lot of which you knew she was keeping on herself as to not burden anyone else with it. How you wished she would listen to you when you said she could tel you anything.

You finally nodded in response to her question.

“Of course I remember, who doesn’t?” You replied in an obvious manner.

“Well, the enforcers want someone to take the blame for that crime.” She continued, her hands still gently grasping both your shoulders as if to keep you from running away. You were firmly planted regardless of whether she let go or not, what could possibly turn you away from her?

“Okay…? But it’s not like you had anything to do with it so why does that matter?”

It was then you watched as Vi’s lips pressed into a thin line. The crease in her brow faded as she looked at you with a softened gaze. Only then did it click for you.

“Wait so you… you’re going to let them take you?”

“It’s the only way to fix what’s happening.” She replied quickly as if she was prepared for your protests. However, it only further progressed your confusion.

“Fix what? What’s happening?” You asked.

Then it dawned on you, she was keeping things from you once again for the sake of “protecting” you. You absolutely despised when she kept you out of the loop with things she knew you’d want a hand in if you had known about.

“I can’t explain just-“ She tried to respond, but you cut her off.

“What do you mean you can’t explain? Just tell me.” You practically pleaded.

“Look it’s just… it’s a long story but I-“ She once again tried to excuse, only for you to cut her off.

“No, Vi. Why won’t you ever tell me anything until you’ve already made a decision! Did one else get a say in this? How are you so sure this fix anything?” You exclaimed. You could feel her grip on your shoulders ever so slightly tighten as our words became more laced with desperate anger.

“It will. It has to.” She responded simply, to which you retorted,

“And what if it doesn’t? Hm? What if it doesn’t fix anything, Vi. You know an enforcers word doesn’t count for shit how can you-“

“I have to try.” She once again responded simply.

“Vi please would you just-“ By now your anger has dwindled and you were just simply desperate to try and talk her out of this.

“I have to do this!” She shouted. You noticed she was no longer looking at you, but now at the floor.

“Why?” You exclaimed.

“Because it’s the only way to protect the people I care about from my own mistakes! I did this. This is my fault, I thought we were ready, I thought we could handle it but… but I was wrong. And now I’ve put them all in danger and I- I have to make up for this.”

You went quiet. Classic Vi. Taking the blame all to herself when there’s more than enough to go around. One could almost call her selfish.

“And what about me? Were you planning on telling me about this before you decided to throw yourself to the wolves?” You responded quietly.

“I figured it would be best if you didn’t know what happened.” She said, he words just barely above a whisper as her view slowly worked its way back up to your eyes.

“What so I could instead just, I don’t know, think you died?”

“I don’t know I just-“

“Maybe it’s better if I found out you gave yourself over and I had no idea.”

“Just-“

“Or Maybe, I would’ve been really dense about it and would’ve just thought you were really good at avoiding me. Maybe that’s the better outcome.”

“Stop!” She shouted, her hand had swiftly moved from your shoulders and planted firmly on either side of your face. She gently held you in place, keeping you looking at her.

“Just… stop. Okay, maybe I didn’t think it through very well but I just wanted to protect you… okay? In the only way I knew how.”

“You don’t have to protect everyone, Vi.”

She didn’t respond.

Classic Vi.

You sighed, knowing that she was dead set on her decision and nothing was going to change that. Not even you.

“Look. If you’re… really set on doing this you have to promise me one thing, okay?”

She looked back, a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“When you come back, and you will come back, you’ll start opening up more. Okay?”

This earned a slight chuckle from the pink haired girl as she looked towards you.

“And… promise you’ll come back.” You added on. The playful look in your eye faded as you realized there was no promising such a thing. You both knew fairly well that this was likely going to be the last time you’d ever see each other again. Both such is the way of a child, you held out on a naive string of hope.

Vi nodded carefully, as if deep in thought. Her eyes jumped from feature to feature on your face, committing it to memory as she the suddenly engulfed you in a hug.

“I promise.”

That was the last time you saw her. You don’t even know how many years it’s been since the incident. Once word spread that Vander and the others had died, you and everyone else assumed that meant Vi died along side them. You held out hope that maybe one day, she’d miraculously reappear, but as the years dragged on your focus strayed from your old friend and more onto your own survival.

The Undercity is an eat or be eaten kind of place.

What good would you fair Vi if you got eaten?

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Crossing The Line

(Art Credits @penpapernaiad on X/Twitter- https://x.com/penpapernaiad/status/1866626496410103905)

Caitlyn Kiramman X Vi Lanes 18+

Summary: After an intense race, Violet confronts Caitlyn about the end controversy which leads to both women discovering something about their relationship and finding a mutual way to take their frustrations out.

Word Count: 4.6k | Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Realisations, Explicit Smut, F1 inspired Fic, Experienced Mercedes Racer Caitlyn/Rookie Red Bull Racer Vi, Top Vi/Bottom Caitlyn, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Brief Praise, Implied Switch but Dom Vi, Begging

A/N- This fic is inspired by the amazing F1 fanart of CaitVi on Twitter and I know absolutely nothing about F1 so apologies just in case some things are incorrect. Also, this is the first time I’ve written something that isn’t a Character X Reader so apologies if it’s a bit weird as I’m not used to not writing something that’s not second person.

---

The sound of engines warming up rumbled around the track, the drivers making their way over to their respective cars to prepare themselves for the race as the crowd cheered in excitement at what was about to happen, the past few races being some of the most competitive of the last few years as new drivers entered the scene, adding their own personal flare that livened up the sport.  

Caitlyn Kiramman, renowned champion and title holder stepped out into driver’s zone, her usual cold, composed and focussed manner on display for all to see as she strided over to where she was needed, her figure radiating dominance and authority as many paused to simply admire her professionalism. Heads turned nearly every time she walked past, the confidence in her form for everyone to admire as she stepped past the McLaren team, offering a polite nod to their technical director before continuing, her blue eyes drifting over to the next racing team, her gaze inevitably wandering to where a certain Red Bull racer was. 

To say things were tense between the world title holder and the new rookie on the block, Vi Lanes, would be a severe understatement, the two of them constantly clashing in every race as the latter’s reckless and rash driving manner was something Caitlyn was not fond of, finding the lack of consistency and accuracy to be a flaw rather than something to admire as she knew the rookies luck would have to come to an end soon. For the fans, this sudden and profound rivalry was something to rave about, the crowd already in anticipation as they saw on the screens the two drivers lock eyes from across the zone, a sudden tension filling the air as the composed, icy blue met the charming and playful glint in the Zaunite’s eyes, cheers surrounding the area as the gaze was held, neither one of the women wanting to back down. 

A smirk graced Vi’s lips as she tried to subtly provoke the blue haired woman, leaning back casually against her car as she zipped up her suit, catching the way the Piltie’s eyes flickered down to the fabric pooled around her waist, Vander, Vi’s director, telling her it was time to actually start focussing. Well, almost as the rookie still had some feathers to ruffle.

“Hey Kiramman,” Vi called out once the other woman had looked away, gaining her attention once more as she simply raised her perfect brow up in a questioning manner, her face impassive whilst she waited. “Keep your eyes on the road this time cupcake , wouldn’t want you to get distracted like last time,” she teased after having just stolen the win in the last race, taking her vibrant red helmet off the top of the car, her amused expression growing at the way she saw the subtle clench of Caitlyn’s jaw, observing how her posture tightened that little bit more as the words settled in the champion. 

“See you on the track, Lanes,” was all Caitlyn replied, keeping her response level headed and calm, doing her best to ignore the playful remark and get back to focusing on the upcoming race, wanting to wipe that smug smile off Vi’s face. 

***

Adrenaline pumped through Vi’s entire being as she kept her eyes trained on the Mercedes in front of her, following behind as close as she physically could, waiting to pounce and steal first place from whatever opening the champion would offer her. However, waiting for the perfectionist that was Caitlyn Kiramman to make a mistake was practically pointless, the woman’s consistency on every corner rather infuriating to the Zaunite as she entered the final corner of the penultimate lap a little roughly, braking later to try and gain fractions of a second on her.

“Fuck, come on Cait, give me something,” She muttered to herself, eyes sparkling with a little hope but also eagerness to find something, anything to use to try and improve her position as second wasn’t good enough for Vi anymore, she was here to prove a point. 

There was also an odd burning desire within her to beat Caitlyn, the tension that brewed between them something more, something that festered deep inside them both and made it seem all the more private and intense. 

The anticipation and excitement bubbled with every move the drivers took as they sped through the first and second corners of the final lap, a hint of unfamiliar nerves growing in the pit of Caitlyn's stomach as she spotted how close Vi was to the back of her, the feeling odd to her as she wasn’t so sure as to why the other woman managed to get under her skin so easily, something inside urging her to somehow do more to ensure she would win, the rivalry being something more personal to her than simply holding onto her infamous Kiramman legacy. 

The nerves only grew as they passed another section of the track, Jayce communicating through the radio to Caitlyn about how Vi had seemed to rather impossibly shave off a little more time, the front of the Red Bull's tyres in line with the back of the Mercedes as they sped along the straight stretch, ready to entire the final corners. 

Determination was evident in both women’s eyes but a sudden glint of light flashed in Vi’s eyes as a minute opening revealed itself to her, the red car launching into the corner recklessly as she tried to squeeze passed, the two cars nearly clipping as the Mercedes had to just about dodge the collision, gasps erupting around the track.

It was almost as though everyone was holding their breath as the two cars lined up practically side by side, both trying to get the edge on the other woman as the cars turned sharply, another rash and bold idea swiftly entering Vi’s mind as she tested the ability of the world champion on the final turn. 

Spotting the hasty move, Caitlyn responded instantly by blocking the overambitious attempt, defending her lead in a manner that had the commentators in awe as they watched the rest of the race unfold, a few protests from some at the way the Mercedes blocked the car off, finding it rather controversial at how the Red bull had to brake harshly to prevent the car smashing into the barriers.  A stream of curses and angered words spilt from Vi’s lips as she had to watch helplessly as the Kiramman sigil on the back of the leading car grew smaller in the distance, crossing the line whilst the checkered flag signalled their victory. As she claimed second place, Vi’s blue eyes followed the way the woman in front of her waved to the crowd, celebrating her win proudly, brewing something undecipherable and intense within her as she needed to find a way to express her anger, feeling as though it was an unfair end to the race, Vander attempting to soothe her and express how impressive second still was but the words fell on deaf ears, Vi’s mind focused on one thing.

This wasn’t over yet. 

***

“What the fuck was that?” Vi snapped as soon as she could find a moment with Caitlyn away from the press and media, her helmet being dropped onto the table as she followed the winner into her private lounge, wanting to confront her and find some sort of way to get rid of this strange, bottled up sensation within her. 

“Excuse me?” Caitlyn’s tone expressed her distaste for the way she was being spoken to, the door being shut by Vi as the blue haired woman crossed her arms over her chest, exuding a fierceness that seemed to only just ignite the anger Vi was experiencing as she took in how the Mercedes’ driver looked after the race, a little taken aback by how perfect and flawless she still looked.

“Oh come on, you know exactly what. You nearly sent me into the barriers, that should have been a penalty,” Vi accused, earning a simply scoff in response, an anger starting to build in the pit of Caitlyn’s stomach at the tense encounter, the way Vi stepped closer to her, her usually charming blue filled with nothing but passion and something undecipherable. The blue haired woman simply smiled in almost disbelief as she shook her head at the other woman’s antics, her hands moving to slick her hair back, feeling the sweat that had built up from under her helmet as she smoothed out her perfect locks, catching the attention of Vi as she couldn’t help but look at the way her long, slender digits moved through her hair. 

“God, you’re so predictable,” She muttered out, her head tilting in a slightly condescending manner as she took in the way the pink haired woman’s brows furrowed slightly, taken aback at what was being said. “You drive recklessly but it’s my fault you lost!” Caitlyn’s tone was laced with an underlying annoyance, as though she was irritated by the Zaunite’s driving style for another reason other than how difficult it was to race against, finding it unsafe for her but also Vi. 

“ Predictable ?” Violet’s voice was dripping with offense, her arm moving in the air slightly to exaggerate her point as she spoke, the gesture not going unnoticed as Caitlyn watched the way her arms flexed subtly through the suit, an odd heat settling at her core as she listened to the rant leaving her lips. “I am not predictable,” she huffed out, her entire style based on the principle that she was bold and unpredictable, no one knowing how to race against or challenge her, it was the sole reason Red bull took a chance on her. “And I only lost because you cut me off, we both know I had you on that corner otherwise,” she argued, taking another step closer to her as Cait’s gaze hardened, the way her ice blue eyes were staring into Vi’s soul making her heart flutter strangely, a shiver running down her spine at the way dominance just seemed to suddenly ooze off the Piltovan. 

“I was defending my lead,” She coldly replied, standing up a little straighter and reminding the two of them of the slight height difference, Vi refusing to back down as she stood before her. “It was perfectly legal and you know it, maybe you should have been keeping your ‘eyes on the road’ to notice that I was defending,” she taunted, throwing back Vi’s teasing remark back in her face, a mocking laugh falling from her lips as she chuckled out in disbelief at her words. 

“And you say I’m the one that’s predictable? I should have know that you wouldn’t never be able to believe you were actually in the wrong for once,” Vi muttered in a snarky manner, the tense eye contact seeming to affect both women as the bubbling of heat within them both grew, eyes seeming to subconsciously flicker down to each other’s lips, insatiably drawn to one another. 

“I can accept it,” Cait starts off after snapping out of the small trance of staring at the other woman’s lips, imagining the way they felt as she spotted the small scar against her top lip, her mind wandering down the wrong path as she pictured how plump they would feel against hers, her head shaking to rid the thoughts from her head as she continued, “But I wasn’t in the wrong today, that was you trying to squeeze through a gap that wasn’t there as usual!

“As usual?” Vi snapped back but before she could get another word out, Caitlyn cut her off, not wanting to hear her try and argue something that was clearly true. 

“Oh come on Violet , we all know it!” The words that leave Cait’s lips takes Vi back, the use of her full name triggering something within her, her heart beating that little bit faster as heat courses through her body, the overpowering feeling of arousal confusing her momentarily. “You try something rash and stupid and pray it pays off, I warned you when we first met that it wouldn’t pay off in this league but you didn’t listen,” underneath the irritation in the Piltovan’s tone, there was a hint of something else, Vi’s brows furrowing slightly as Cait continued, seeming to need to get this off her chest.  “You were reckless in the first race and you still are,” she sighs out, a hint of care seeping into her words making everything suddenly click into place in Vi’s mind, a tense silence wrapping around them both. 

Their eyes met once more, the two of them seeming to both realise at the same time why everything felt more intense, felt more personal and significant between them, why it was always more than just a race. The atmosphere around them grew tense as their eyes softened momentarily, searching one another as everything slowly processed in their minds, the feelings that were being uncovered and discovered, the close proximity between them more prominent as they both realised how close they actually were, and the sudden desire to cross a line. 

Naturally, Vi made the bold move to lean forwards, her hand cupping Caitlyn’s cheek as they crashed their lips together, a soft moan escaping the latter as she lost herself into the feeling of Vi’s addictive lips, gasping gently into her mouth before leaning back in for more. Both of them closed their eyes as they let themselves drown in the passion of the kiss, hands roaming each others bodies, pulling each other as close as physically possible as bottled up emotions were poured into the kiss, the anger, care and underlying love taking over them both along with lust and desire, their bodies longing and craving one another. 

Sliding her hands down the toned back of Violet, Caitlyn pulled her closer to her, letting her body be trapped between the wall and the other woman as she sighed softly into the kiss, the two of them smiling into it briefly before going back in for more, their fervent lips constantly brushing one another as their bodies felt an electric connection, arousal clouding their minds. Taking control, Caitlyn let her teeth gently bite down on Vi’s lips, earning a low groan from Violet as she felt her tongue soothe over the dull pain she caused, her tongue then sliding into her mouth as their tongues lewdly slid against each other, igniting a newfound desperation within them both as hunger took over their actions. 

Hands messily found their way to Vi’s hair, the Red Bull racer’s hands moving to the opposite woman’s hips, caressing them before letting her hands continue to explore her body, wanting to know what she enjoyed, eager to witness her reactions. The feeling of slender fingers tugging on her hair sent heat pooling between Vi’s thighs, distracting her momentarily before her lips pressed a little harder against Cait’s, moving them to pepper kisses along her jaw, taking a minute to let her thoughts make sense again, the only thing consuming her mind being the blue haired woman. 

Her lips trailed addictive, hot open-mouthed kisses along the soft and creamy skin she could, the feeling of Cait trying to take control of the situation again making her realise how she still was a little annoyed with the other women, deciding she wanted to get revenge back for just missing out on first place. 

“Vi,” she heard the other woman sigh out sinfully, the way her name fell so effortlessly from her lips, wrapped in that delicate British accent, sent waves of arousal crashing through the Zaunite but she tried her best to not let it affect her as she wanted to tease the woman melting in her arms beyond madness, to torment her and get revenge for the race. 

Pulling back from her enticing skin, Vi gazed into Caitlyn’s eyes, getting lost in the way each shade of blue was filled with desire before letting her hands travel up her body to the zip of her racing suit, asking the silent question for permission. The tender action brought a gentle smile to Caitlyn’s lips, the ice queen’s composure slowly crumbling away as she let her eyes flicker between the aroused glint in Vi’s eyes and her fingers tugging down her zipper, taking in how skilful her fingers looked and how she imagined they would feel buried deep inside her. 

Their lips met once more whilst Vi’s fingers slowly pushed the fabric off her shoulders, fingers sliding under the thick protective gear they had to wear to the thinner fabric, her strong hands gripping onto her hips, squeezing in a manner that Caitlyn found intoxicating, fogging her mind with arousal as she tried to dominate the kiss, wanting to have some sort of control as her body slowly succumbed to the other woman’s touch.

The action however simply made Vi smirk into the kiss, the smug expression accompanied by her hands drifting lower in her suit, meeting the waistband of the leggings the Mercedes’ driver wore under the suit, fingers toying with the fabric. 

“Ah, ah,” she hummed out disapprovingly when Caitlyn tried to take control, a teasing and playful tone to it as she ghosted her lips against hers, brushing them delicately before trailing the soft touches to the shell of her ear, wanting to torment the woman pinned against the wall. “You can be the perfect, composed and in control Kiramman on the track but here,” Vi rasped teasingly, teeth gently biting down on Cait’s earlobe, punctuating the end of her words with a kiss to her cheek and fingers drifting closer to the woman’s core, feeling the way her skin was burning and desperate for more, “Here I want to ruin you.” 

“Fuck,” the word escaped Caitlyn before she could stop it, her eyes fluttering open to meet the amused blue of the other woman as she pulled back briefly to engrave the site of Caitlyn Kiramman speechless before her, the glint of dominance in Violet’s eyes making Caitlyn want to squeeze her thighs together but she didn’t, not wanting to give in so easily. A challenging expression crept onto Caitlyn’s face as she lolled her head back against the wall, offering her neck for Violet to kiss down, her teeth scraping against the sensitive skin whilst her fingers slid under the waistband of Cait’s leggings, slowly travelling along her searing skin, feeling the way her muscles twitched under her touch.

“Always so confident,” Caitlyn tried to tease, but her voice betrayed her as the words spilt from her lips in a pleased, shaky sigh, her control and composure diminishing with every touch Vi offered her, her body simply craving to let someone else take control for once.

“It’s part of my charm,” Violet chuckles out against her throat, the feeling of her lips pulling up into a smirk making arousal pool between Caitlyn’s thighs, her legs spreading to welcome the other woman’s hand as she drifted over the neatly trimmed hairs there, groaning softly at how wet she already was. “And we both know you love it,” she mumbled out playfully, kissing along Caitlyn’s jaw and encouraging her to lower her head, wanting to watch her reaction to what was about to happen, needing to see the way pleasure etches its way onto her face. 

“Mhmm,” was all Caitlyn could hum back in response, biting down on her lip to muffle the moan that wanted to escape her, the way Violet’s fingers felt sliding through her folds effortlessly, gathering the abundance of arousal that was there and using it to circle her clit, making it hard to keep a hold of the last of her self control, the other woman reading the signs of her body and smirking at the attempt to stay quiet. 

A gasp left Caitlyn when Vi skilfully moved her fingers, letting her thumb circle her clit whilst one of her digits slid in easily to her dripping core, a restrained noise desperately trying to leave her lips at the amount of pleasure and heat that consumed her body. The way Violet’s free hand moved up her body to the back of her head, threading through her blue locks and tugging softly also had desire and pleasure clouding her mind, her eyes fluttering open to meet an amused pair of blue eyes gazing at her hungrily before they drifted down to her lips, admiring the way she attempted to stay composed, her fingers digging into the Red bull driver’s suit. 

“Don’t hold back,” Vi whispers before leaning in for a kiss, brushing lips tenderly as she slowly thrusted her finger into her soaking cunt, curling it beautifully against the other woman’s weak spot, her hips grinding down desperately against her hand as sparks of ecstasy shot through her. “I want to hear you scream for me Cait,” Vi further encourages, earring a slightly louder moan that blessed her ears, the sound spurring her on to keep those sinful sounds falling from her lips, needing to hear all the desperate moans, whines and whimpers that she possibly could. 

“Shit, Vi,” Caitlyn groaned out, the combination of her words and the way her fingers expertly slid into her making her body need more, addicted to the pleasure coursing through her veins, the intoxicating manner in which Violet crashed her lips to her, letting passion once again take over them both. 

“That’s it,” Vi praises, smirking into the next kiss as she feels the effect praise has on the other woman, the way her hips bucked against her hand and how she clenched around her digit signalling just how much she loved it, Caitlyn’s head dropping down to hide at Violet’s neck as she basked in the warmth her skin provided momentarily. “You’re so wet, fuck,” Vi mutters almost in disbelief to herself as she adds another finger into Caitlyn’s core, thrusting them both in a manner that had the other woman delirious with the euphoria building in the pit of her stomach, her eyes fluttering open as she looks down, watching the way Vi’s forearm moves with every skilful pump of her fingers. 

“Do that again- Shit , just like that, right there,” Caitlyn moans out, moving one of her hands to rest over Vi’s shoulder, fingers digging into the toned muscle she knew was under the suit whilst the other moved to the collar of the protective gear, grasping onto the fabric so she could pull the other woman back in for a searing kissing, the need to feel her lips against hers more important than anything else. “Don’t stop,” the words fall from her lips in a plea she was a little embarrassed by, the sheer amount of desperation lacing her words something she wasn’t used to, but part of her didn’t care as being filled up by Vi’s fingers just felt so good, her body being pushed towards that familiar edge.

“Are you close?” Vi pants out into a desperate kiss, keeping her pace steady as she felt Caitlyn’s hips buck a little harder against her hand, a sense of urgency seeping into her movements giving away just how much she needed to feel pleasure crash through her. “Yeah?” The cocky tone further aroused Caitlyn as her knuckles started to bleed white at how tight she was gripping onto the back of Vi’s suit, wanting to let her nails scratch down the tattoos littered over her back, to feel her bare skin under her fingertips. “ Beg me ,” was all Vi rasped out, chuckling softly at the hint of annoyance that instantly etched its way onto Caitlyn’s face, a reluctant look clear for Violet to see, only further amusing her as she watched the internal conflict in the blue opposite her. 

“Vi,” Caitlyn managed out, a hint of a warning tone present in her whisper of the other woman’s name, the corner of Violet’s lips tugging up into a mischievous smirk as she could tell Caitlyn’s pride was preventing her from begging desperately to let her come. 

“Beg me or I won't give you what you want,” she muttered into another lewd kiss, tongues sliding against one another before Caitlyn gasped into her mouth, Vi’s fingers brushing over her sweet spot perfectly, almost blurring her vision with pleasure and causing the Mercedes' driver to give in, simply needing to feel her body being over the edge. 

“Please,” she whined out quietly, ashamed at how submissive she sounded, at how much of an effect Violet had on her, her body begging for her touch, her lips, just her . 

“What was that?” Vi tauntingly questioned, earning a groan of frustration from Caitlyn as she  bit down on the teasing woman’s lips in protest, annoyed at how much fun she was having riling her up. “I couldn’t hear you, you need to say it louder Cait,” she teased, moving the hand that was tangled in blue hair to the woman’s chin, tilting her head to make her look into her eyes as she begged her to take mercy on her, to give her what she so desperately needed. 

“Please Violet,” she pleaded, not hiding the sheer amount of desperation in her tone as their eyes locked, sparks of arousal flooding through them both at the intimate, passionate and intense gaze, Vi unable to resist any longer, needing to see Caitlyn fall apart at her touch. 

“Come for me,” she murmured into a passionate kiss, both of them being consumed by the moment as her fingers curled at just the right spot, thumb still brushing over Caitlyn’s sensitive clit, sending her crashing into her release. “Make a mess all over my fingers,” Vi added before a string of moans spilt from the other woman’s lips like a chant,  pleasure instantly consuming Caitlyn entirely and wracking through her, body tensing and trembling in Vi’s strong arms as her release crashed through her powerfully. 

Violet took in every sigh, every soft moan that gracefully fell from Caitlyn’s lips as she rode out her high, the slight twitched from her body as euphoria and ecstasy overwhelmed her, her hips slowly coming to a stop against her hand whilst she relaxed against her comforting body, sinking into it as Vi pressed her into the wall to keep her upright, letting her recover from the exhaustion of her release and the race from earlier. Tenderly, she also brushed back the stray strands of blue from out of Caitlyn’s eyes, tucking a few behind her ear as a delicate and beautiful smile stretched across Cait’s face, the intimacy wrapping around them both greatly appreciated by both women. 

“Don’t get used to that,” Caitlyn mumbled after a moment, holding the soft gaze, letting a hint of mirth appear in her eyes for Violet to see, her smile growing that little bit wider as she raised her eyebrow expectantly, waiting for her to elaborate, “ Next time , I’ll be in charge and I’ll remind you of your place.” 

“Next time?” Chuckled out Vi, a sudden excitement growing in her at the idea of spending more time with the other woman, a small nod from Caitlyn making her smile even more. “And where is my place?” She humorously asked, sliding her hand out of the other woman’s suit, bringing her fingers that were covered in Caitlyn’s cum to her lips, groaning a little at the taste of her whilst Caitlyn watched in awe, unable to take her eyes off her lips as they wrap around her fingers. 

“Under me,” she purrs out, that usual confident and dominant demeanour returning in the Piltovan, her eyes flickering between Vi’s eyes and lips before leaning in to softly press their lips together, her arms loosely wrapping around the back of her neck as they savour the moment. 

“We’ll see about that,” Vi huffs out, her hands settling at Caitlyn’s hips as they let a comfortable silence wrap around them both tenderly, their eyes conveying the emotions they both felt whilst they held the soft and gentle look, both of them glad that they crossed a line, ready to see where this would take them. 

[likeprongstostars]

my application to join the bartylus club i missed them a lot

[xemmyq]

Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year @isabugs! I was your secret santa for @mlsecretsanta this year! This took me FOREVER ;-;

I hope you like it! I love these weirdos. Peep the lil ladybug on Adrien's shoulder :3

For anyone else seeing this post, if you like my art and want to commission me (or buy me tea) here is a link to my kofi<3

[soltwent]

i just loathe you lately — .✦

ᯓ VI ARCANE X READER

SUMMARY : 15k word count one-shot! (sorry if you dislike longer fan-fiction) ; the secrets of highland parks are kept under lock and key, never to be whispered beyond its borders.

“whatever happens in highland parks, stays in highland parks.” — you’re a registered, licensed FBI agent who's made a name for herself in the world of crime-solving. working alongside a team of sharp-minded professionals, apart of what's become New Jersey's go-to crew for getting things done. their reputation? polished, and trusted.

then, there’s vi west: your work partner, equally sharp but just a step ahead in some ways. almost too close for comfort. who would've thought work partners could be this competitive? the irony? they’re unstoppable together, but neither is quite the same without the other.

WARNINGS : fbi agent! vi ; fbi agent! reader. eventual smut. modern fbi! au. inaccurate descriptions of the profession! i’m not a professional. this is for fun. work rivals (one sided beef) to lovers. SORRY I YAP. female reader with female anatomy. y/n is sort of used. “thorne” is your last name. vi’s last name is “west”. you refer to her by her last name mostly. reader is sorta mean. reader is an overachiever and insecure. vi and powder aren’t related. tons of banter. bottom! reader & top! vi. spitting. a bit of sexual praise. fngering r! rec. pussy eating r! rec. crime scenes mentioned.

A/N : also i’m not that great at writing and my english isn’t spectacular, so i apologize for any confusion! this was previously started as a fic with OCS. if you see the name 'audrey', ignore it!

This isn't my best work ever (i was sick writing it), but it's something.

MINORS + MEN DO NOT INTERACT! GO AWAY!

"Great," you muttered, rolling your eyes at the red light like it had personally offended you. One hand gripped the leather steering wheel, while the other balanced a bagel slathered in thick cream cheese and peppered with everything seasoning. You took a bite, savoring the soft, fresh bread—a far cry from the jaw-breaking bagels they served at the headquarters.

No need to spend the rest of your shift nursing a sore jaw, right?

South Jersey always gave you this weird ghost-town vibe. It was like all the real Jersey energy got stuck up North, and down here? It was all tumbleweeds and out-of-towners. And the drivers? Somehow even worse.

"Dude, go!" you groaned, smacking the horn with your free hand.

The truck in front jolted to life at the sound of your obnoxious horn, hesitating like it couldn't decide if it actually wanted to move. But you were late for work, and patience wasn't exactly on the menu today. The light had barely turned green when the Ford finally screeched forward, turning right without so much as a flick of its blinker.

Not even surprised.

Okay, maybe calling this place a 'ghost town' was a bit dramatic, but it wasn't exactly buzzing with life either. A population of five thousand? It wasn't tiny, but small enough that you pretty much knew everyone, or at least recognized their faces.

You rip off another chunk of your breakfast, chewing thoughtfully as you kept her eyes on the road ahead.

The headquarters sat smack in the middle of town, like the town's claim to fame. Not that it had much else going for it, anyway. The place was known for one thing and one thing only: a team of agents who dealt with crime and shady stuff, navigating the waters of illegal activities with professional ease.

And you were one of them. FBI agent—living the dream. Except for mornings like this, you weren’t so sure. Some days you questioned all of it. Why didn't you go for Wall Street like every other uptight, middle-aged guy who loves his over priced suits and has a receding hairline? But, of course, you were not a man. And would never be a man. So, that was that, unfortunately.

Other days though? Absolutely loved it. The thrill, the purpose. It kept you going.

You slammed your car door shut, the headlights flickering as if saying goodbye. Your boots clicked on the pavement as you tossed her brown paper bag with trash into a nearby bin, finishing off the last bite of the bagel while juggling your bag and keys in one hand.

(Y/N) Thorne. Not exactly the name that struck fear into anyone's heart. You were, after all, everything someone would want in a woman: totally normal. And boring as hell.

"G'morning," you called out, voice rippling through the main office full of her co-workers as you scanned your ID and pressed the door open with your forearm. Inside, it was warmer — nothing fancy, just your typical government building. Functional, plain, and definitely not the kind of place that got decorated for Thanksgiving.

November in Jersey wasn't exactly charming. Sure, it had its cozy moments but it was mostly cold, wet, and kinda depressing. You shrugged off her trench coat, and tossed your bag onto the desk, just as Jayce swiveled around in his stool, that annoying smirk plastered across his face.

"Wow. You're late," he teased, his eyes darting to the clock behind her.

"Like, late-late. Late as hell."

You then shot him a look, knowing full well that you was over half an hour late. Unlike everyone else who was seated and working as usual.

"You think I don't know that? I got caught up in traffic," you say, the lie slipping out as easily as it always did on mornings like these. The truth? There was almost never traffic in Highland Parks. Maybe during the holidays or when something big was going on, but never on a random weekday morning.

You started unloading your personal bag, pulling out the essentials: a still-steaming insulated cup of coffee, pens, some files you’d taken come to look over, and your planner. Everything else was digital of course, but you liked having these things on hand. It just made you feel more grounded.

Jayce raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying her excuse. "Traffic? Don't tell me you're coming down with schizophrenia, (Y/N)."

You then rolled your eyes, brows pinching together. "You don't 'come down' with schizophrenia, Jayce. It's not a cold that comes and goes." You didn't bother looking up at him, already used to the back-and-forth banter. They both were close enough for this to be just another day in the office.

"That still doesn't explain whatever you've got smeared around your mouth," Jayce quipped, pointing at you like he'd just caught you in some criminal act.

You halted, then swiped at your lips, just now realizing the cream cheese from the bagel you were eating earlier had betrayed you. "Shut up."

Jayce spun back around to his dual monitors, both lit up with the usual chaos. One screen was a mess of opened unnamed files, highlighted sections jumping out at him like some kind of fucking neon nightmare. The other? A classified CIA document he probably shouldn't have access to but, hey, Jayce was Jayce. A pain in the ass sure, but damn good at what he did, and you could respect that at least.

You plopped into your chair and rolled it forward, the familiar hum of the workspace coming to life. Resting your head in your hand, and letting out a sigh that felt as if it had been building up for days on end. Sleeping through your alarm again. It was becoming a pattern, and you was starting to seriously think about just camping out here at headquarters.

At least then you wouldn't have to rush to work every other week because of your growing habits.

You glanced around the room. Everyone else was locked in, focused on their screens, their tasks. A hushed few conversations floated in the background — just the usual work chatter between people you’d known for years now. They were solid. Resilient. You felt lucky to be surrounded by a team you could count on, even on days like this where your brain felt like it was running dry.

You wiped away the last remnants of cream cheese from your lips, still mildly annoyed that Jayce had been the only one to point it out. Not that you wanted everyone in the office to make a big deal out of it, but seriously, not one person gave you a heads-up?

Jesus Christ. It was way too early to care about that kind of stuff, especially right now.

Outside, the sky hung heavy with thick clouds, the kind that obviously promised rainfall later — great just what you needed. You moved your hand over the cursor, pulling up the files for the marriage fraud case you’d been slogging through. It was equally as exciting as watching paint dry on a fence. But a job's a job, and no one ever said working for the government was supposed to be fun.

Your eyes scanned the screen, index finger clicking away as you moved through the organized files. Your routine, monotonous. It was keeping your hands busy, at least. If nothing else, the day had nowhere to go but up from here.

"The money transferred to the spouse was unlabeled, and we're talking a decent amount. Anywhere from a grand up to five grand. Normally, separate bank accounts wouldn't draw too much attention, but in this case it's a red flag." You say, half to yourself as you rummaged through the stuffed file drawer. One folder was delicately tucked under your chin, held in place as you flipped through files with your manicured fingers. Brows furrowed in concentration as you searched for a similar case.

Tax fraud cases were like the PP&J to your workload, with a few shady marriage fraud scenarios thrown in to mix things up. Sometimes the scandalous ones were entertaining enough to break the pattern, but this one? Torture.

Jayce stood nearby, leaning back against the spruce-wood counter, which was digging into his lower back. He took a slow sip of his iced oat-milk latte, listening to you work and ramble through your day's work. It had been a quiet morning, with nothing dramatic or exciting happening, which should've been a good thing.

Still, it left you with that uneasy feeling — like the calm before a storm.

You were never relaxed for this long. Clocked in for almost three hours and had surprisingly plowed through a solid amount of work, even with a fried brain that was practically begging for a nap. That was another thing you found weird. You were usually a mess by now, half-distracted or complaining about some new crisis.

The files slapped onto the counter with a loud thud as you set them aside, hands brushing together like you were dusting off the whole ordeal. Jayce’s eyes flicked to your bare hands: no ring, no sign of marriage or any serious relationship. You were always all work, never any talk about a significant other or anything personal.

You slowly sighed pushed your hair back from your face, shutting the file cabinet with a firm click and locking it for good measure. Sliding your personal key into your pocket, ready to move on from whatever boring task awaited you next.

"This Wren Staples woman is kind of smart. I mean," Jayce held up a hand before you could even start to question his logic, giving you that familiar look. "I'm not saying it's right, but if someone offered me five grand a month to stay silent and just show up to some fancy business dinners? You wouldn't have to ask me twice."

He paused, waiting for a reaction, but you just stared at him, face scrunched up like you couldn't decide if you was more irritated or confused. Clearly not amused. Jayce let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes like this conversation was nothing but a lost cause. Adjusting his belt, he gave it one last go, this time sounding more defeated than the first time.

"Forget it." He waved it off dismissively, taking a long sip of his drink while you mentally rubbed a hand down your face in pure frustration.

"Yeah, I will forget it," you say dryly. "Because if anyone heard you say that, you'd be stuck at the front desk while a janitor took your place. Or," you added, picking up your files, "you'd just be fired."

Jayce smirked, a dimple creasing his cheek. "You're obsessed with the idea of me getting fired, but who else would have your back when West over here starts breathing down your neck?"

At the mention of West, your mood took a nose-dive. Violet West — the co-worker from the literal pits of hell. If you had to sum her up in three words it, was be easy: haughty, a know-it-all, and self-indulgent.

You’d like to say you didn't hate West, but that would be a lie. And sure, lying wasn't illegal, but pretending to tolerate Violet felt criminal. The woman was all sharp words, choppy hair, and superiority complex wrapped in a suit.

"Yeah, you mean 'she-who-must-not-be-named'?" you mutter as you both walked down the dim hallways, the usual morning light blocked out by the overcast skies. Jayce snorted.

"What? Is she a forbidden topic now, Ms. Thorne?" Jayce raised an eyebrow, teasing as they headed back to the main room. You shot him a long side-glance, silently telling him to knock it off as they neared West's usual... territory.

You scanned your ID at the door, unlocking it with a beep and pushing it open for the both of them. Your expression blank, and voice deadpan.

“Just very, very taboo.”

You rip a piece of tape off the roll with your teeth, holding it between yours lips for a moment before carefully sticking it onto the document you were patching up. The team had already gone through a ridiculous amount of ink today, and printing another copy of this page would be a waste. A little tape, and it was good as new. Well, good enough. No one would notice unless they were trying to be a detective about it.

Smoothing the tape down with the pad of your thumb, you stood up and pushed your chair back with a small scrape. So far, this week wasn't too bad. It was only Tuesday, but still better than the disaster that was yesterday. Not that it mattered much — work was work, and that was that.

"Lunch started ten minutes ago, (Y/N)."

You turned to see Mel, stirring honey into her ginger tea, the spoon gently clinking against the glass. The smell hit you, and seconds in you were already fighting the urge to grimace. Tea wasn't your thing. It always left this weird aftertaste, like lukewarm juice that had been forgotten in a car on a hot day. Gross, but you get it.

Mel wasn't bad, though. Laid-back, easy to deal with, which was more than you could say about most people at the HQ. In your mind, everyone had something annoying about them, and you weren’t shy about digging for it. Nobody's perfect, why pretend?

You laid your stack of papers down, giving Mel a tight, thin-lined smile with a small shrug. "Who else is gonna organize our cases by date, importance, and agent?"

"You do know there are six other people working in this office, right?" Mel raised an eyebrow, amused but not surprised by your martyr complex.

You knew you were not technically responsible for everything. You weren’t dense. But every time someone else tried to handle the file-work, things ended up in a chaotic mess, and that drove you crazy. You’d rather just do it on your own, your way, even if it meant taking on more. Loosening your tie, slipping a finger into the knot and giving it a tug as you got back to sorting through the paperwork.

Policy guides? Tossed onto the pile on her left. Investigation files? Those got dropped into a drawer with a firm hip-check to shut it. Personnel records? Neatly tucked into a black folder. You had a system, and it worked.

"Exactly," the words came out as a drawl, not really in the mood for chit-chat as you worked through the stack. You still needed to collect some files, but that could wait until later, maybe even tomorrow. The week had been more relaxed since most of the tasks were in-office, which was honestly a relief. The days when public affairs or training sessions were on the agenda? Those were the ones that pushed you to the edge of madness.

As you started to walk away, Mel called after you, "Tell Jayce his phone's rung fifteen times in the past twenty minutes!"

Of course it had. Jayce avoided work calls like the plague.

You shut the door behind you and slipped a hand into your right pocket, pulling out your cellphone. It was mostly your work phone — you kept your personal life strictly separate. The idea of mixing the two was a disaster waiting to happen. Scrolling through your contacts, you found the number you were searching for, and tapped it. You needed to update the attorney general. Your boots clicked softly against the floor while stroding down the hallway, phone pressed to your ear.

It rang a couple of times before a voice answered. "FBI Legal Division."

You inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly to gather your thoughts before responding. Tone direct, professional. "Thorne, (Y/N), speaking. Just calling to update you. We've covered all files and documents this past week. Fingerprinting is being handled by Shimes, and the lab services are currently in progress. Everything else looks good for now. If anything changes, I'll let you know as soon as possible."

You kept it short and to the point, just the way it needed to be.

A satisfied hum came through the line. "Great work, I'll review the details and let you know if I need anything else."

You thanked your attorney, lowering the phone as you pushed open the doors to the lounge. You had about twenty minutes to eat which was more than enough, though the thought of food didn't exactly thrill you. When your mind was full of work, your stomach didn't have room to complain. Sliding your cellular device into your pocket, you noticed a few co-workers giving you a glance.

"Where've you been?" Powder asked, nosy as ever. Powder Shimes was hunched over, chewing on what looked like the remains of a sad, microwaved breakfast burrito —probably from hours ago— and washing it down with a can of Dr. Pepper that looked far too room temperature. Was that ketchup on her burrito?

Ekko tilted his head, giving her a once-over. "Probably the HQ. She looks pretty pissed."

You rolled your eyes and yanked open the lounge fridge. Taking your time to riffle through the bagged lunches, each marked with large initials to avoid any office food theft drama. You grabbed your pre-prepped Caesar salad —the one you didn't have time for the day before— and a small bottle of water.

"Where's Jayce?" you asked, settling into a chair a seat away from the two of them. You ignored their commentary about your supposed "pissed off" look. It wasn't like you were mad, but your resting face had always given off those vibes. "Matter of fact, where's everyone at?"

Powder and Ekko were always together, so their presence wasn't exactly surprising. Mel was eating at her desk while taking phone calls. Jayce was MIA for reasons unknown, even though he was usually first to hog the entire couch in the break lounge. Caitlyn popped in sometimes after training, but you hadn't really expected to see her today.

You popped the lid off the salad and grabbed a plastic fork from the tin holder nearby. As for West? Well, she wasn't here either, which was a relief. Lunch without Violet West around was a small victory in itself. It wasn't like seeing her would brighten your day. If anything, the distance was a blessing.

You stabbed at the Caesar salad, spearing a few leaves and bringing them to your mouth. A quiet lunch was all you really needed right now.

"Caitlyn went to grab some stuff from Home Depot. Something about the sink breaking. Something with the piping. I don't know," Ekko shrugged, digging into his half-full peanut butter cup ice cream with a plastic spoon. Meanwhile, Powder took another horrific bite of her ketchup-slathered burrito, opening yet another packet of ketchup like it was a delicacy.

You uncomfortably clenched your jaw, doing your absolute best to ignore Powder’s obnoxious eating habits. She gulped down her food with an unnecessary loud sigh and crushed her soda can with a loud crack. "Like Ekko said, Cait’s at the store. Jayce? Off doing whatever, said he'd be back after lunch. Vi?" Powder raised her hands once mentioning the girl in mock surrender, a crumpled napkin in her palm. "No idea where she is, and honestly? Don't care."

You picked at the chicken in the Caesar salad, chewing slowly. You really needed to up your protein intake, especially with how grueling training days had been. But Caesar salads? The only kind you could enjoy without wanting to throw the bowl out the window. "So, it's just you two?"

"Yup," Ekko confirmed, licking his spoon clean.

Spectacular. Stuck with these two for the next fifteen minutes. Not that long, but in moments like this, you found herself wondering how they were the same people she did real-world investigations with. Ekko, a grown man, devouring ice cream like a five-year-old, and Powder, well.

"That's disgusting, Shimes," you deadpanned, eyeing the ungodly amount of ketchup Powder was consuming. Ekko barely stifled a laugh, grinning against his spoon. You rubbed your temples, trying to ease the headache that had started creeping in. Who knew the break room could actually make things worse?

Powder scoffed, leaning back in her chair, her work jacket tossed aside. Now just in a wrinkled button-down, she looked far too comfortable for someone whose eating habits were under fire.

"Like I care. That was delicious. I'd give it like an eight out of ten— only because it was kinda cold in the center."

That earned a grimace from you. You did not need to know how cold her burrito was or how much she enjoyed it in great detail. As much as Jayce could be a pain, you’d trade this scenery for his company any day. At least Jayce wasn't… this.

Just as you were starting to imagine a more peaceful lunch break, a gruff female voice broke through your thoughts. "Thanks for saving me a seat."

The sound of the chair scraping against the floor made you freeze. Ekko shot you a knowing look, and Powder’s shitty grin only widened.

"Surprise guest!" Powder announced with a clap, running a hand through her hair like she was prepping a show.

Surprise guest? More like surprise loss of appetite. Because who else would be sitting next to you, shoulder to shoulder, than Violet West herself. No invitation, no polite "is this seat taken?" just West, plopping down like she owned the place.

Your fork hovered above your salad, chewing coming to an abrupt stop. You stared down at the greens, the moment of peace you had been savoring now utterly ruined.

You've got to be kidding me.

Three shots rang out. You adjusted your earplugs with one hand and tightened your grip on the Glock 19M with the other. The gloves were pulled snug over your hands, and you squeezed the gun a little harder than usual. You didn't bother with safety glasses during training. What was the point? You didn't wear them on the job.

Agents like you often practiced shooting all kinds of targets — stationary, moving, from cover to cover, on the move. The whole deal. Training days like these were crucial for staying sharp, and even though they ran these drills once a week, you always tried to push yourself, especially with your Glock. The gun had a way of making your skin crawl every time you fired it, but you had to be good with it. You hadn't had to use it much in the field, thankfully, but when you did, it never felt great.

"Not bad, Thorne," Caitlyn muttered as she patted your wrist, adjusting it slightly and motioning for you to fix your posture. You hadn't even realized you were holding the gun so close to your body until she gave that look. A lump of saliva slid down your throat and you nodded. Caitlyn was a solid instructor. She didn't sugarcoat anything, if you were doing something wrong, she told you straight up, step by step, how to fix it.

You deeply appreciated that.

The days rotated every week. Monday meant outdoor training, Tuesday indoor, then back outdoors on Wednesday, and so on from there. Weeks of drills. Not your personal favorite, but it was part of the job, and you had to be ready to reach for your waist when things went sideways.

You bit your cheek, thinking about how unpredictable this town was. The citizens too. Not that you were any better — you weren't exactly a poster child for predictability yourself. You let out a breath, firmly holding the handle of the Glock as if it could settle your nerves.

Caitlyn handed you a pair of safety glasses, breaking your focus. "You need to wear these. None of that 'I'm too good for this' nonsense. If you lose an eye because you're being stubborn, you're not touching a firearm again. Take them."

Irritable but not wrong. You weren’t offended. Rumor had it someone lost an eye once because they ignored safety, though that was before her time here at the HQ.

"Thanks," you say, slowly taking the glasses from her hand. She stomped off, her heavy boots thudding against the ground as her vest shifted with each step. You put on the glasses and popped your knuckles, already feeling that strain in your hands that would stick until the end of the month.

Nearby, Powder was lounging with her legs spread, while Jayce gnawed on a marshmallow-studded protein bar. Powder’s face was slick with sweat as she gulped water, some strands of her azure hair sticking to her forehead. Ekko was swapping out his gun, peeling off his thick vector gloves.

You placed your weapon down and rolled your tense shoulders, feeling a knot in your neck release. The relief was short-lived, though, she glanced over at Caitlyn, who was now standing in front of West. Another knot formed in your gut, this one a mix of annoyance and envy. You clenched her jaw unconsciously.

Of course, Caitlyn was probably praising the hell out of West. She was the best with the weapons out of everyone, aside from Caitlyn herself. Powder was more into forensic work, Ekko handled lab services, and Jayce was a crime-solving machine, and you?

Just... good. At a little bit of everything. You were organized, which was great, but that was also Mel’s job. A deep inhale filled your lungs, and you sighed heavily. You were useful — a great help, a mix of skills, but nothing extraordinary.

Ekko’s voice snapped you back to reality. "Dude, instead of choking back a hundred protein bars, try starting with eggs in the morning. Those are food, but God damn."

He was talking to Jayce, who was hunched over, elbows on his knees. You resisted the urge to critique his posture. You didn't, but that was primarily because it would make you a hypocrite. Caitlyn had just corrected yours. You slipped off your own gloves, then decided to stand and stretch your legs, feeling more awake on your feet.

"Eggs are nasty as hell," Jayce waved Ekko off, and he shrugged, half agreeing as he lazily sipped his water.

"Cottage cheese? Tofu? Greek yogurt?" Ekko continued, trying to offer solid protein options, but Jayce’s chewing slowed at his suggestions. Even though Ekko’s advice came from someone who clearly knew what he was talking about, Jayce’s eyes narrowed, his tanned skin glistening under the fluorescent lights.

A firm smack on your back snapped you upright before you could even think about it, body reacting on instinct. Caitlyn’s voice echoed in your mind, reminding you about your posture, and for a split second, you wondered if you'd hunched over under the weight of your responsibilities again. But when you turned to see who had hit you, it wasn't Caitlyn and her sharp, fine eyebrows. Instead, you were met by a different pair — thick and scarred along the edges.

West.

Your stomach dropped. Caitlyn, you respected. Caitlyn had the right to correct your posture, whether in training or in office. Violet, on the other hand, had not. Jayce could get away with being a little touchy sometimes, and Mel, if it was educational, but Violet? No. Never.

"You aren't a Pilates teacher," you say in a calm, yet perfectly passive-aggressive tone. Your brows furrowed as you tried to smooth out the back of the suit jacket you had on, trying to ease any trace of Violet’s unwanted touch. In another timeframe, you might've smacked her hand away, but today you settled for being politely firm.

Violet, of course, gave you another pat, this one being more condescending than the first. "Another profession? I'd be making bank. Every housewife would be in my classes," she replied, her voice smug and dripping with fake charm.

Your skin prickled with irritation, patience running thin by the second. You would've given everything for earplugs at the moment. The sound of Violet’s voice was enough to make your head throb. Meanwhile, Jayce, ever the opportunist, chose this exact moment to stay silent, focusing more on his marshmallow protein bar than on you, who was clearly about to bite down hard enough to crack a molar.

"You'd be making below minimum wage. No one would willingly attend those classes," you dragged out, voice flat and uninterested, though the tension in your jaw spoke volumes. Violet didn't have to do much to get under your skin, and honestly, she didn't even have to try. She was the walking embodiment of something that made your veins itch.

"Realistically, that is."

Violet studied your face, noticing the way your expression had tightened, a visible vein of pure irritation. It wasn't like you abhorrd Violet — if you did, you would've moved locations a long time ago. But there was a fine line between tolerance and whatever the hell this was. Tolerable, in your world, meant zero contact. Silence. Absolute distance. And right now, West was far too close for comfort.

"Realistically, a business run by someone confident in their growth is more likely to succeed than someone who's just a follower."

Violet’s smug response hit you like a match to gasoline. You could feel the heat of your frustration under your skin, a familiar sensation that always seemed to bubble up during your rare, but tense interactions. Most days, you two kept your distance, sticking to cold, judgmental glances. But on days like this, when they were forced into the same space, it was inevitable snarky exchanges, backhanded compliments, and that thick, suffocating air of competition.

You bit back the flood of insults threatening to slip out. Pressing your chapped lips together, irritated by the dry, rough feeling but too focused on the current situation to care. "You can't speak from experience," you finally muttered, knowing full well that it was a weak retort. You weren’t in the mood to come up with anything smart. Keeping it safe was the safest bet for your sanity right now.

Violet, naturally, didn't miss a beat. "I'll have that privilege one day." she flicked her ID badge with a cocky flourish, the engraved letters of her last name catching in the light. Her face was twisted into a self-satisfied smirk, the kind that made you want to roll her eyes so hard they'd get stuck.

There was nothing motivating about Violet’s arrogance. Only aggravating.

You cleared your throat, forcing a thin smile.

"Fun talking to you, as always," you said, determined to get the last word in, as usual. Your exchanges were like a never-ending thumb war, both of you pushing for dominance without truly getting anywhere. Two years of this, and absolutely nothing had changed.

Violet smirked, clearly enjoying herself. "I'm flattered, but I can't help wondering if you're considering stand up comedy for those with lobotomies." She punctuated the remark with a firm hand on your shoulder.

Your stomach churned at the touch, and you shrugged off Violet’s hand like it was a spider crawling on you. Resisting the urge to vomit right then and there, you reached down for your Glock, thumb brushing over the magazine release as it could somehow end this insufferable conversation.

You needed to reload, which at least gave you a reason to focus on something else.

"Be my guest," you said flatly, eyes fixated on the gun, not on the smug asshole hovering over you.

Her lips quirked again in amusement, but she stayed quiet, watching as you methodically reloaded the 19M, clicking the slide back in place with more force than necessary. You were hyper-focused now, anything to block out Violet’s presence.

You slipped the gloves back on, fastening the Velcro tightly, mentally preparing yourself to get back to training.

"Training's over for the day, you know," Violet said, casually reminding you. She was annoyingly familiar with your habits on the range, probably because she always kept an eye on you, just waiting to see if you messed up.

You didn't bother looking up. "I'm aware everyone else is gone. I prefer extra training."

"You hate training," Violet replied, her tone laced with smug knowingness. She clearly enjoyed pushing your buttons, and right now, you kinda wound tighter than the Velcro on your gloves.

"Like you'd know know." you simply say, cocking your head to crack your neck.

Your raised the Glock and fired at the nearest dummy, ending the conversation with a bang.

The sweet relief of coffee never failed to satisfy Violet, even on days when everything else seemed to fall apart. She let her calloused fingers linger on the coffee maker as it hummed, her other hand twiddling a packet of sweetener absentmindedly. With nothing pressing on her mind or plate today, she pulled the pitcher from the machine and dragged her New York embroidered mug forward. The coffee poured steadily, just below the rim, and she tore the sweetener packet, dumping it in with practiced precision.

But before she could savor a sip, her forearm nudged open the lounge door, and—splash. Hot coffee cascaded over her freshly pressed suit, drenching her work pants and top in a scalding, sticky mess.

What—the fuck?

Violet's eyes slowly drifted down to the damage, the burning liquid stinging her skin beneath the fabric.

Her grip tightened on the mug as she looked up, fury already simmering behind her eyes.

And there, frozen in shock with wide eyes, was none other than you. Of course. Violet could see the words forming in your head before they even left your mouth; you never missing an opportunity to make things worse.

"Watch where you're going next time," you grumbled, tone dismissive, like the whole thing was somehow Violet’s fault. You had also whispered something under your breath, and it couldn't have been good. The coffee dripped silently between them, pooling on the floor and marking its territory on Violet’s ruined clothes. She had managed to get through the rain this morning without so much as a spot, but your clumsiness had managed to wreck her in mere seconds.

Violets’s scarred upper lip twitched in irritation. Was she being blamed? Really? "What are you in hurry for, the last few munchkins in the fridge? You don't exactly look busy, Thorne.”

Your eyebrows drew down slowly, eyes narrowing in offended disbelief. Violet might've found it amusing to mess with you in any other circumstance, but right now? Right now, it really irked her. She was being blamed for this, and she wasn't going to let it slide.

"If you've got time to throw insults, why don't you go and do Mel’s job again? After all, you went to school for years to play assistant at headquarters, right?" Violet’s words were sharp, deliberately cutting. It was a bitchy move, but she was indeed not in the mood.

You’d had been riding her nerves all week.

Monday, you’d shredded Violet’s files by "mistake," chalking it up to be tired. Tuesday, you’d nearly wrecked her Glock 17M and tried to convince Caitlyn it was just a mix-up. Wednesday, there were dirty looks and backhanded compliments in the middle of a meeting. And yesterday? You’d almost derailed an entire investigation with your impatience.

Two years of this, and it was finally pushing Violet to her limit. It wasn't just competitive banter anymore — it was real animosity. Violet had always tried to keep things light, a little teasing here and there, but you? You downright hated her or something, and it was getting mutual.

You, ever so unfazed, didn't even glance at the mess you’d made. "Who pissed in your coffee this morning?" you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And don't worry about how I handle my tasks around here. Why don't you go cozy up to Caitlyn while I keep things easy and simple for you? Sound good?"

Violet clenched her jaw, her fingers tight around the now empty mug. This woman...

"You've got a lot of nerve," Violet snapped, her voice low but sharp, each word deliberate. "I don't have an issue with you, but for some reason, you're always trying to get on my bad side. I try to be halfway decent with you, but you always find a way to ruin that too." Violet stepped closer, exaggerating her words, hoping it would hit you harder. For someone who walks in heeled boots everyday, the shorter woman still hadn't quite figured out how to own them.

Before you could fire back, Violet cut you off.

"And if you want to accuse me of cozying up to Caitlyn, then take a good look at yourself, Thorne. Your surname fits you precisely. You're like a thorn to someone's side."

You let out a sharp huff, clearly caught off guard by Violet's sudden willingness to stand her ground. You weren’t used to being confronted, especially by someone you considered to be an annoyance. Violet could see the gears turning, the effort you put into keeping your voice steady as she shot back.

"At least I have a good relationship with everyone. You pick and choose who you talk to. You're not down to earth, (Y/N). You're just a shitty person."

You felt your blood simmering, but you kept your expression neutral, even as the insult landed. By habit loosening your tie, fingers trembling just slightly with adrenaline, and tossed your now-empty mug into the trash bin by the door without a second thought.

The satisfying crack of glass echoed through the room, but she didn't care.

Not about the mug, not about your words. Not now.

She brushed past you, not sparing a second glance as she headed toward the restroom. The coffee was already soaking into her clothes, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to her skin. She peeled off her ruined pullover as she walked, letting it fall down her arms before she entered the bathroom, where she was greeted by her reflection.

Violet stared at herself for a moment, hair falling messily over one eye. It had grown longer than she liked, brushing just past her nose slightly. She pushed it away impatiently and leaned over the counter, scrubbing at her button-down with frustration. It was practically see through at the stain.

"Come on," she muttered through gritted teeth, working at the larger stains with more force than necessary. The top had cost her over fifty bucks, and the thought of it being ruined because of your clumsiness made her blood boil. If it had been some cheap shirt, she wouldn't have lost her cool like that, but it wasn't.

"Fucking come out, Jesus." Violet’s voice cracked slightly as she scrubbed harder, knowing full well she was only making it worse. But she couldn't walk back into the HQ with this mess on her. Not after what had just happened. She wasn't about to give you the satisfaction of seeing her like this.

As the stains slowly faded, her mind raced. Were you insecure? Violet didn't know, and frankly, she didn't care. The woman was a confusing mess of contradictions, and Violet had no desire to decipher her. All she knew was that you got under her skin, and made her head throb with frustration. An impatient groan escaped her lips as she managed to get some of the deeper stains out, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Violet stared at the shirt, feeling like the whole situation was ridiculous. And yet, here she was, scrubbing out coffee stains and stewing over someone who should've been nothing more than an office inconvenience.

The urge to tell you off bubbled up again, but Violet bit it back. Sure, she was pissed, but wasn't trying to escalate this any further. She had done the right thing by standing up for herself, like anyone else would. There was no point in pushing things to the point of no return, where they might both end up fired and jobless.

She slung her ruined pullover over her shoulder and walked out of the women's restroom, her steps heavier with the weight of her lingering frustration.

She wasn't about to let it go, not completely, but she wasn't going to make it worse either.

If nothing else, she thought, I'm not worse than her. That was for sure. Violet had rattled her pride a little with the teasing, but it wasn't like she'd gone overboard. In fact, if you had any sense of humor, they could've had some fun with the back-and-forth. But no, the hostility from you felt different, like it was more personal. You ribbed Ekko and Powder too at times, but with Violet, it felt deeper, like there was something else fueling it.

As she exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping, she made her way down the hallways of the HQ, her mind still buzzing with the aftershocks of their argument.

"That was my favorite shirt," she muttered under her breath, glancing down at the faint coffee stains that still clung to the fabric.

You grimace, hesitating before fully letting your eyes take in the crime scene photos clipped to the case folder in front of you. One side is filled with notes detailing the body discovered, the evidence collected by officers and K-9 units, while the other holds the photographs. It’s never easy looking at the dead, but this case in particular —one involving children and animals— settles like a weight in your stomach.

Just suck it up and focus.

Jayce is out today, which means his ridiculous pile of files is now your responsibility. For someone who jokes around constantly and eats while reviewing these kind of things, he’s got a stomach of fucking steel. You, on the other hand, find yourself letting out a quiet, uneasy strings of grunts as you shuffle a set of dated photos into an envelope hastily. You barely register your own signature as you scrawl it across the front before tossing it into the small brown box beside you leveled on Jayce’s chair.

The barely touched coffee on your desk doesn’t help your mood. Mel had been nice enough to bring drinks from the local coffee shop for everyone, but yours? It tasted watered down, and the undissolved brown sugar left a grainy texture that made it hard to enjoy. You had set it aside, already planning to let it get cold so you could toss it out without feeling guilty.

Bad coffee is worse than no coffee. You’d rather suffer through exhaustion than force yourself to drink something made by a barista who clearly didn’t know a basic coffee rule: to stir the damn sugar while it’s hot.

You bite the inside of your cheek, inhaling deeply, forcing yourself back into work mode.

Outside, thunder grumbles in the distance, and the printers rattle beside you, filling the silence of an otherwise empty space. The office is quieter than usual, the seat next to you noticeably unoccupied. Rainy Novembers are typical in Highland Parks, but in all honesty you don’t have much of an opinion on the weather. You spend most of your time indoors anyway.

Working.

Your stomach interrupts your train of thought, rumbling loudly in protest. You unconsciously glance at the digital clock near Jayce’s empty desk, its red numbers flickering back at you. Lunch passed a while ago. Not that it mattered. After spending hours handling Jayce’s case files, your appetite had somewhat disappeared. Your meal, along with your Diet Coke, was probably still sitting untouched in the lounge fridge.

Powder and Ekko are out training one-on-one with Caitlyn. Not your business, but you’re curious anyway. You always are. Why didn’t you ever get one-on-one training? Everyone else did.

Are you lacking something?

You chew on your thumbnail, the thought making an unwelcome home in your head. This always happened.

A sudden tap on the top of your head yanks you from your inner turmoil. You glance over your shoulder, expecting Viktor, the guy who fixes the printers and every other broken thing in HQ. Jayce is good friends with him, so, you are as well in that case. But instead, it’s Mel. Your shoulders loosen slightly. You’ve been tense all week.

“Not exactly the best way to get my attention, Mel,” you say, stacking some of the finished files on your desk, head still heavy with lingering doubt.

“Lighten up a bit. You’re such a pessimist,” Mel hums, dropping the stack of documents onto your desk. “You should go eat. I saw you skipped lunch. Plus, Jayce can finish the rest tomorrow. You’ve done more than enough.”

You exhale, considering her words. Why didn’t you just work a role like Mel? She had a clear job, an essential purpose. Meanwhile, you felt like you spent most of your time quietly filling in the gaps — like a seat filler, temporary, replaceable. All that school for what?

A stubborn voice in your head protests the comment about your pessimism, but your hunger wins out. You push back your chair and stand, rolling your shoulders to shake off the stiffness.

“You can take the file box then. I’ll be back.” Grabbing your ID lanyard, you stride out of the office, making your way through the mostly empty space.

The walk down the same hallway you’d been pacing for two years somehow felt longer every day. Realistically, nothing had changed. It was the same damn stretch of floor, the same fluorescent lights buzzing above. But lately, the need to move your feet, to just get to where you were going, had started to feel like a chore.

You had three keys to this building: one for the main office where the bulk of the work happened, another for the lounge, and the third just to get into the damn building in the first place. Underwhelming. Your pay was the same as Jayce’s, even Ekko’s. You were making more than both Powder and Mel combined.

So why did it still feel like you were scraping for something?

You pushed open the lounge door with your elbow, only to immediately regret it.

Violet.

A grumble of annoyance rumbled in the back of your throat as she turned her head to glance over her shoulder at you. Her cool, ashy-blue eyes flicked to you for only a moment, but it was enough to make your skin prickle uncomfortably.

It felt like every time a coworker looked at you, it was out of pity, not respect. As if all the work you put in was just something to be tolerated, not acknowledged. The thought made your heeled boots feel loose, like you were one wrong step away from rolling your ankle under the weight of Violet’s occasional, unimpressed glances.

Why was she even here?

Yes, this was the employee lounge, but she never lingered here long. And yet, here she was. You weren’t even sure if she had food, and she definitely wasn’t making coffee.

You ignored her gaze, forcing yourself toward the fridge. Your hands were already clammy before you saw her, but now they were straight up sweaty. The cool air from the fridge was a small relief as you reached for your neatly labeled chicken and lettuce wrap, along with your untouched sealed Diet Coke.

It had been this way ever since the coffee incident. Ever since you’d —“accidentally”— ruined an entire month’s worth of her research.

West had actually stopped making jokes around you.

At first, that satisfied you. But now? Now, it made your gut feel like a crumpled-up sticky note.

Had you actually liked the attention? No. Absolutely not. Jayce spoke to you every day, cracked his ridiculous jokes around you, so it wasn’t that. And it wasn’t about communication. You and Violet didn’t even work in the same department. You weren’t exactly friends, either. Strictly coworkers. Two people who knew just enough about each other’s flaws to be annoying and pick at them.

So why was she bothering you so much?

Your flimsy fingers tightened around your wrap as Violet finally looked away. But she didn’t move. Didn’t eat. Didn’t make coffee. Just existed. Silently.

Judgment was awful, but silent judgment? That was even worse.

“Can you quit watching me like that?” you snapped before you could stop yourself, your voice sharp with the bitterness that always seemed to linger between you two. “It’s weird. And aren’t you supposed to be working?”

Violet barely reacted, she just blinked at you, unimpressed.

“Lunch ended three hours ago,” you added, “unless you’re digging for Caitlyn’s crumbs.”

Your jaw clenched as you unwrapped your lunch, your teeth sinking slightly into your torn up bottom lip. Uncalled for. You knew that. And Violet knew exactly how to weaponize the moment.

“Thanks for the reminder, Thorne,” she said, her voice steady but laced with something biting. “But I actually don’t have to make that effort. Cait pays attention to me without me having to act like some crazy addict who thrives off her validation.”

Your fingers stilled.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t said worse to her before. The difference? Violet never hid behind her words. She always said them looking you dead in the eye, unwavering, direct.

The comment shouldn’t have hit a soft spot, but it did.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to play it off, pretending it didn’t get under your skin.

“You know me so well,” you muttered with a strained chuckle, though your jaw ached with the effort of keeping it together.

Because deep down, you knew exactly where your problem with Violet had started.

It wasn’t out of nowhere.

You’d been intimidated by her from the moment she got the job —without even needing an interview. She made more than you right off the bat. Caitlyn warmed up to her almost immediately. It wasn’t like Violet had ever rubbed it in your face, but envy was something you never handled well.

Do this better. Do that better. Finish this. Try harder. Ask to do more.

Violet ran a hand down the front of her work suit to smooth out the cotton. Ever since the coffee incident, she’d switched to wearing black button-downs under her blazers, likely to avoid another purposeful coffee disaster.

“You don’t exactly make it hard to read you,” she mused, her voice irritatingly casual. “Especially when you have a vein bulging from your forehead every time you see me.”

Your first instinct was to snap back. Who wouldn’t be irritated when you think everyone is your friend? But you knew better. And honestly? You didn’t have the energy for another round of verbal sparring this week either.

Jayce was out. Your workload was heavier than usual. You hadn’t had coffee, and you hadn’t eaten all day.

So, instead of feeding into it, you focused on your food. You took a bite from the edge of your wrap, careful not to let the contents spill from the sides. It hurt to open your mouth too wide. Your lips had been painfully chapped for a month now. February was creeping closer, and with it came dry skin, exhaustion, and the growing desire to sleep at your desk instead of work.

Your bottom lip had split more times than you could count in the past week, but you hadn’t done much to fix it either. No time for chapstick when you could barely keep up with everything else.

Violet had noticed.

You always got like this in the winter; pushier, more irritable. You weren’t as unbearable when the weather warmed up, but your attitude toward her never thawed either. You were always on edge around her, always competing, always watching.

She had caught you staring the day Caitlyn pulled her aside to discuss a raise, the same day you had taken on extra side gigs and hadn’t gotten so much as a mention. She had seen you fist your hair at your desk after downing your fifth cup of coffee. She had been on the receiving end of your little retaliations, the way you’d ruin her things in ways so small they could almost be called accidents.

Violet had always noticed.

“A chicken wrap with a side of blood,” she mused lightly, resting her hip against the counter.

Your chewing slowed for a beat before resuming, brows furrowing just slightly. You still curled and coated your lashes every morning for work with an older tube of mascara you couldn’t seem to let go, still maintained some things about yourself, but you weren’t oblivious. You knew you looked rough lately.

“You seriously need chapstick,” Violet continued, eyeing your lips with something between amusement and concern. “That’s gotta hurt.”

It was the first semi-joke she’d made around you since November. It wasn’t even really a joke, but it was… easier to hear than the usual biting remarks.

You swallowed your food and huffed. “My lips are none of your business, nor your concern. I’m applying chapstick just fine. It’s allergies.”

Wrong.

Allergies were the least of your problems. You had been biting your lips raw and were probably vitamin deficient in more ways than one. Even Jayce had commented on it the other day, asking if you were cosplaying as a grumpy vampire or some other nonsense.

Violet scoffed. “Are you looking to eat your lunch or the skin off your lips?” She rubbed her own lips absently, likely remembering the thin scar that stretched across her upper lip from training. “You’re running on nothing but caffeine. Have you forgotten what real food tastes like?”

You scowled, cutting her off before she could continue. “Why are you in here?”

Violet blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the abrupt change in conversation.

“I mean, I could be just as annoying, but I’m not in the mood, West.”

She raised an eyebrow, then shook her head with a small smirk, arms crossing over her chest. Your eyes hesitated for just a second, catching the way the layers of her uniform —button-down and blazer— did nothing to hide the toned muscle beneath them.

What kind of moron actually wore both their blazer inside HQ?

“Why?” she taunted. “Because you’re finally getting a taste of your own medicine? Or because Jayce isn’t here today to defend you?”

Your jaw clenched.

“Are you fucking serious?” you huffed, your voice laced with disbelief. “You think Jayce not being here affects how I feel?”

The defensiveness in your tone was embarrassingly obvious, and Violet knew it. Her lips quirked upward, her smirk deepening.

“Well,” she dragged the word out in fake thought, pursing her lips in a way that made your eye twitch. “Can you blame me? Your only real friend isn’t here, and now you’re just moping around HQ. Moping around with your head down, and your ass up.”

“Do not say that,” you snapped, your irritation spiking.

Violet grinned like she had just won a prize. “Really? You draw the line at a simile?”

Your brows furrowed. “A what? That’s a metaphor, you slow beet.”

Violet should have been offended. I mean, you had just called her slow, but instead, she froze for half a second, her expression shifting to something almost amused.

“…Did you just call me a beet?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “A beet-root. For a choppy haircut, you’d think you’d at least change the color to redeem yourself. You look like a damn beet.”

Audrey’s lips twisted into a half-smirk, half-grin.

“Wow, (Y/N),” she murmured. “Did you just make a joke?”

Your stomach dropped.

Your pride plummeted.

She thought you were joking. Violet—Violet fucking West—thought you had joked with her?

The realization made your grip tighten around your soda can, your lips pressing inward as if disgusted by yourself. You wanted to grab the words back, throw them out, insist that you meant that as an insult, not a joke.

But you couldn’t.

And that grin on her face? That damn grin? (that damn grin...😼)

It made you want to rip your hair out.

“Never-fucking-mind.”

Violet undid the cuffs of her button-down, rolling up the sleeves until the fabric no longer restricted her movements. Tattoo work peeking out. The uniform was fine. Professional, sleek, practical, but nobody actually liked wearing it. Not in the HQ.

Across the office, Jayce’s voice rang out, louder than necessary, pulling her attention. She glanced up briefly, watching as he bantered with one of the techs. Jayce was easy to get along with. Smart, good with computers, and a complete slacker when given the chance. She had no issue with him personally. When the two of them worked together, they wasted time more often than not, but when Jayce worked with you? Somehow, he managed to joke around and get things done. Maybe that’s why Caitlyn didn’t mind having his desk right next to yours.

Violet exhaled in amusement but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t in the office much, her job kept her busy elsewhere. Restocking gear, replenishing ammunition, training the interns who wanted to join the department someday. It was a privilege, but it was also pretty exhausting. Still, she knew she was the favorite around here, and that privilege came with its own set of complications.

Caitlyn had once commented on it —on you and her— during a routine weapons inventory.

“Everything good between you and Thorne? You don’t seem close, but your work styles mesh well. You’re both dedicated.”

The statement had been so off-base she almost laughed. Close? Not even remotely. But that wasn’t on Violet.

You had been different lately. More distant.

No spilled espressos on her desk, no mysteriously shredded files, no petty, one-sided beef getting in the way of the workday. Odd.

Then again, you had been odd lately in general.

The banter had lessened. Sure, a few snide remarks here and there, but the tantrums, as Violet fondly called them, had also significantly decreased. She wasn’t sure if she found that concerning or relieving.

Casually, her gaze drifted across the office until it landed on you.

You sat with your legs crossed, the tip of your heeled boot absently twisting under your desk. Your trench coat hung over the back of your chair as it normally did. You only wore it when the building’s heater was busted or if you had gotten caught in the rain.

Pencil skirt. Off-white ironed button-down. Navy tie. Black pantyhose.

Mel didn’t always bother with the extra layers or formalities, but you did.

Violet huffed at the realization. You had fashion preferences, apparently.

Funny. And a little uncanny, imagining you caring about anything other than being annoyed, irritated, or outright pissed. That’s all you were to her: a tightly wound ball of something pent up and ready to just snap.

Though… she did sort of pity you at times. Emphasis on 'at times'.

You turned in your chair, handing Jayce a stack of printed files, speaking lowly to him before refocusing on your own work.

Violet continued watching, still as an observer. Bored. You, Jayce, Mel, and Viktor held the office together while she spent most of her time outside of it. She only came in once a week, just enough to notice that, despite all your efforts, you were stretching yourself too thin.

You made things harder for yourself. She knew that.

Her gaze dropped, almost unconsciously, to your legs.

She blinked.

Weird.

She had never really looked at you before, not past all the other stuff; the petty rivalry, the constant need to one-up her, the way you made every little thing a competition.

It wasn’t exactly easy to look beyond that.

And yet, she hesitated before glancing back, this time without moving her head, just her eyes.

You weren’t… unattractive.

Her fingers tensed slightly against the armrest of her chair before she shifted, leaning into her palm instead.

You had good facial symmetry. Nice skin — tired, sure, but even Jayce had made jokes about you cosplaying a grumpy vampire lately. It was funny, but to you? You were furious, but hey, you started to apply chapstick more often throughout shifts. Your makeup was always neatly applied, and your uniform fit well—not too tight, not too loose.

You also cared about appearances. Not just your own, but others’.

Violet silently grinned at the memory of your voice echoing through the office just a few weeks ago:

“So unprofessional. It’s embarrassing. Don’t wear a badge and walk around in saggy pants. You went to university for what? To not know how to measure your own waist? Gosh.”

You’d aimed it at Jayce after he had opted for a more relaxed fit, but your commentary extended to everyone who slacked off in dress code.

Violet exhaled slowly.

Then, unfortunately, you caught her staring.

Her body tensed as your gaze flickered to hers, and she immediately cleared her throat, shifting to cover her mouth like she had just zoned out. Definitely not like she had just been looking at you for longer than necessary. Longest than she had ever looked at you, really.

You furrowed your brows, shook your head slightly, then returned to work.

Violet sighed, pressing further into her palm.

Her eyes shifted to Mel as she strode across the office, posture perfect, heels clicking at a steady pace, files balanced in one arm. A sweetheart. Objectively, Mel was a beautiful woman, but Violet didn’t know her too well. Certainly not as well as she knew you.

When Mel passed, she caught sight of you again, now looking down at paperwork with those stupid reading glasses perched on your nose. Looking like you were gonna pop a blood vessel.

They looked ridiculous on you, far too big for your face, because Jayce had so helpfully gotten you the wrong size.

“Didn’t know they’d be big on you, man. Relax, relax.”

Indeed, you did not relax. You had thrown a fit.

It was… kinda cute.

Violet blinked, her lips parting slightly.

What? No.

She must be losing her mind. She straightened in her chair, biting the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t blind, she could admit when someone looked good — but this was you.

You, of all people. The epitome of stress and irritation in her damned life. So what if you were pretty? Every woman was pretty in their own way. It didn’t mean anything.

Violet forced her gaze away, focusing on the stack of paperwork she had been handed—a rare task for her, but one she had to do nonetheless. Maybe she was just stressed. Maybe her cycle was about to start. Definitely not you.

Another week passed. Your workload was heavier than usual, keeping you out of Jayce’s business, out of Mel’s, even out of Viktor’s. Caitlyn had given you a detailed to-do list. You. Not Jayce, not Ekko, not West. Agent Thorne.

You had come into work on Thursday morning already exhausted, having snoozed through all three of your alarms. You almost knew this week was going to end badly. Your track record with jinxing yourself was near flawless. But for once, it didn’t.

Your hands hovered over the case file on your desk. A fresh case. Not one of Jayce’s hand-me-downs, not something already combed through a dozen times. The seal along the side was still intact, a loud, physical reminder that no one had read this yet. Your heartbeat thrummed against your ribs.

Your fingers tensed as you looked up, scanning the office. Everyone was busy.

Was this actually meant for you?

The doubt crept in before you could stop it. Was it bad that you questioned this? That you questioned being given your own case? Mel's voice echoed in the back of your mind — “You’re too hard on yourself. Just take the opportunity.” You wanted this. You had been waiting for this. Caitlyn was trusting you with the first glance, the first look, the first opinions, the first impression.

You exhaled, shaking off the nerves as you sat down. The file was thin, because you were the one who would be passing it around, not the one receiving it after five other agents had already picked it apart.

“Soft tacos,” Jayce whistled in pure delight, stretching his legs out under his desk.

You didn’t even have to look up to know he was grinning like a damn idiot. No one but Jayce would be eating soft tacos at eight in the morning. And not even the good kind, these weren’t the ones he brought back after holidays at his mom’s house. These were microwaved, doused in sour cream, and inhaled like he was running late to something.

Jayce plopped into his chair beside you, lifting the taco to his mouth, but he barely got a bite in before his body jerked forward, his eyes going wide.

You turned, brows pulling together. “Jayce, it’s a Dollar General taco. You—”

“No way! You got a case?”

Jayce cut you off, speaking through the mouthful of scalding hot taco, eyes glued to the file in your hands. You grimaced at the sight. He hadn’t even swallowed before rushing the words out. But then, you realized that’s why he had burned himself. He had been so excited to say something that he hadn’t waited for his food to cool.

Pride? Your heart picked up slightly at the thought. Jayce, your desk partner, your closest ally in this damn office, looked genuinely excited.

“Oh, yeah. I— I think I did?” you said, unsure. “I mean, Caitlyn could’ve meant to leave this on your desk for all I know.”

Jayce raised his brows, leaning back in his chair. His taco hovered in his left hand, airing out now that he’d learned his lesson. “Mel was right. You are a pessimist.”

“What?” You put the file down carefully. “It’s not pessimism. It’s called being realistic.”

“That sounds boring as hell,” Jayce mused, clearly amused. He was a realist too, but unlike you, he had an open mind when it came to cases. You treated every file like it was life or death, like one wrong note would collapse the entire operation.

“Whoever highlighted the third section word for word is an absolute idiot. No one is reading that. It doesn’t support the evidence or the tax fraud either.” You had once scoffed, tearing open a fresh pack of sticky notes.

Or: “Let me guess. Whoever started this case let an intern do the honors. Jesus. What is happening.”

“I’d rather be boring than wrong,” you countered, turning back toward your desk, firing up your computer. You draped your coat over your lap for warmth. Your office chair was always too cold in the mornings.

“You’re often both of those things.”

“Sorry—? Oh. It’s just you.”

Your voice flatlined the second you spotted Violet standing behind Jayce. Your face dropped, irritation slipping in as she leaned against the back of your chair, one hand perched on her hip.

Jayce twisted around, his face lighting up at the sight of her. “West! Cool to see you, as always. Even if Cait put us on opposite ends of the HQ.”

You blinked in confusion as the two of them exchanged a ridiculously complicated handshake, your stomach twisting slightly.

Of course Violet was buttering up Jayce. He was your closest friend in HQ, and yet here they were, shaking hands like they had some kind of inside joke you weren’t a part of. Not even you had a handshake with Jayce.

“Yeah, yeah,” Violet brushed it off. “I’ll talk her into putting me right between you and grumpy over here.” She nodded toward you.

“You wish,” you scoffed, clicking through your unread emails. The blue light from your screen reflected on your face, making your eyes narrow slightly as you read. Your legs pressed together under your coat, absorbing what little warmth you could get.

Violet teasing you in front of Jayce wasn’t new. Not even close. But something else was.

This wasn’t the first time you had caught her looking at you differently.

It wasn’t just the usual watching to make fun of you anymore.

It had happened in the lounge, on the training field, even when she thought you hadn’t noticed. She was good at eye contact —everyone knew this— but lately? Lately, she had been slipping.

Apparently, you had also grown an extra pair of eyes on your uniform. Violet had been staring at you more than usual.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Unfortunately, Jayce kept talking.

“Thorne got her first case,” he grinned, pointing at you with his thumb. You felt your fingers tighten around the mouse. Jayce. Seriously? Why was he telling her of all people?

Violet tilted her head, attention shifting fully to you. “Cool. I can give her a few tips and tricks, as someone who’s gone through a dozen or so.”

The last thing you needed was Violet West handing you advice. If she did, she’d rub it in your face for weeks. She’d take credit for half the investigation. She’d never shut up about it.

You snapped your gaze up, meeting hers.

“I’m good,” you said, your voice flat. “I don’t need your help.”

You barely moved, but there was a twitch, something small, something almost unnoticeable. Violet’s eyes flickered from yours, down to your tie. Your fingers moved automatically, adjusting it. She reached for her own and tugged it into place like she was mirroring you.

Was she taunting you?

“My desk has enough room for two,” Violet said, pivoting on her heel. As she turned, you caught a glimpse of that Roman numeral tattoo under her left eye, barely concealed beneath a thin layer of lazily blended concealer. It didn’t concern you. Why would it? Who the hell got a tattoo on their face?

So unprofessional.

“Yeah, I bet it does. Call a therapist.” You muttered the words just loud enough to be caught in the silence of the HQ. Violet didn’t miss a beat, letting out a laugh that shook her shoulders slightly. Your eyes flickered to the way her body moved with it, a ripple of motion.

“Not what I meant, but alright, Thorne.”

Jayce, still chewing, raised a brow and looked between you and the door as Violet exited, then turned back to you.

“Is there something going on, or…?”

“Always,” you said, voice rough but not nearly as irritated as it should have been. That realization bothered you. Normally, you’d be clenching your fists, itching with irritation, but the usual sneer wasn’t there. Jayce definitely noticed, blinking at your quick response.

“…Ooookay then.” He dragged the word out but shrugged, returning to his disgusting breakfast taco.

Still nasty.

Never in your life had you thought you’d enjoy working on a murder case. It sounded strange from an outside perspective, but getting your first solo case had been something you had wanted —had waited for— for three years. And it was worth it. You had spent overtime in the office, completely immersed.

Highlighting sections, sticking tabs on documents, writing down key notes. By the time you finished, two markers had dried out, and a busted pen had leaked ink all over your palm from how hard you had pressed it against the paper. But it was done. You finally dropped the completed file on Caitlyn’s desk before clocking out.

Walking outside alone, the night air was cold, biting at the skin of your legs despite the sheer pantyhose you had layered under your knee-high boots. Practical, comfortable. You weren’t a fan of showing too much calf, it just felt better this way.

By the time Monday rolled around, you were dead on your feet. No one enjoyed a Monday morning, especially not in early March when climate change was kicking everyone’s ass. Walking into the HQ, the air inside was warmer than the entrance, and shrugging off your trench coat felt like a small relief.

“Finishing an entire case file in a day. That’s impressive.”

You almost jumped out of your boots.

Some idiot had breathed down your neck, not literally, but close enough. You whipped around, half-asleep daze completely shattered.

West.

Again.

You exhaled sharply, so close to snapping. “Can you not go around scaring people half to death for once?”

Violet didn’t even look sorry. She stood there, perfectly smug, like she had just told the funniest joke of the century. You wet your lips, easing the sting from the cold. Your jaw tensed before you finally said what had been lingering in your mind for the past two weeks.

“Are you okay?”

Violet tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Yeah, I’m all good. Perfect, actually. Woke up today, had breakfast for once. It was delicious. Had a cup of coffee, and—”

“I don’t care about your damn coffee,” you cut in, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Or how perfect and sparkly with unicorns your morning has been, West. You know what I’m asking. Don’t act dense.”

You weren’t the only one who had noticed.

The way you two spoke had changed. The fights were less. The banter was different. You had stopped arguing over stupid things; eye contact, for example. It had stopped feeling taunting and started feeling like…

Like something else.

Something you hated.

You scolded yourself for it, constantly. In meetings, when Caitlyn said something that involved Violet, your eyes automatically found her. You expected her to look back.

It made you uncomfortable.

And now, here she was, grinning like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I think unicorns are pretty cool, though. Can’t lie.”

You inhaled sharply.

“This isn’t about unicorns—! You’re actually going to give me a headache.”

You dragged a hand down your face, exasperated. Violet laughed, the sound light and unbothered, as she toyed with her lanyard. Her ID badge swayed slightly, catching the overhead lighting.

You hated that grin.

Mostly because you had no idea what it meant anymore.

The air felt different. It wasn’t just the stares that carried a new weight — it was the shift in body language, the subtle shifts that were hard to ignore. Your temper had settled, your instinctive irritation toward Violet dulled. Her jokes still grated on your nerves, but the feeling in your chest wasn’t heavy anymore.

Humiliating. That’s what it was.

Not liking Violet was what kept you going. As terrible as it was to admit, hating her pushed you, forced you to be better, to work harder, to be faster than her. But now? Now, that loathing had soured into something sickly, something different. Interest. God, even thinking that word made you feel ridiculous.

You shouldn’t be this hung up on whatever unspoken thing was happening. It was probably a joke. Another way for her to get under your skin. Or maybe she was just bored, looking for entertainment at your expense. You needed to cut this off, now, before it spiraled into something even worse.

You turned, walked back to your desk, and dropped your bag beside your chair with a sigh that rattled through your chest. You weren’t stupid. You were looking for something, some kind of reassurance, confirmation that Violet wasn’t thinking the same things you were. But it wasn’t there. She was still watching. And when she got up, taking something of Caitlyn’s to the lounge, your body moved before your brain caught up.

Jayce didn’t even bother questioning it. You’d been making excuses to leave all week. Tugging down the hem of your skirt, you inhaled deeply and stepped out, boots clicking steadily against the floor. You swiped your ID at the lounge door, pushing it open, already knowing exactly who you’d find.

Violet did a double take.

She hadn’t expected you to follow. A conversation in the office? That was normal. You coming to her without Jayce nowhere nearby? Not so much.

“Had a feeling you’d follow me here,” she lied.

“Sure you did,” you deadpanned, dropping your ID onto the counter and leaning against it. Violet eyes flickered, hesitated. She was staring again, and you noticed. You both noticed.

This wasn’t the usual hostile tension between you two. It wasn’t irritation or resentment. It was something else, something you didn’t want to name. Something that made your skin burn.

“This needs to stop,” you cut in before she could say anything.

Violet's brows knit together, feigning confusion. But you knew she understood.

“Never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth, Thorne.” Her voice was slow, calculated. “You started this. All of it, I mean... picking fights, sabotaging me, making this job feel like a competition.”

You didn’t have an ego. That’s what you told yourself. But your pride? It had always been fed by approval. A nod from Caitlyn, praise from the department, respect from your coworkers.

But none of that ever filled the hole, did it?

You exhaled sharply, shifting your weight, irritation slipping into your tone. A familiar reaction. One Violet was used to by now.

It shouldn’t be her attention that made your chest tighten. It shouldn’t be her opinions that made your skin tickle. And yet, here you were. A few days ago, you had actually questioned whether thinner tights would make your legs stand out more. Whether a thicker lash would make your eyes more striking during those lingering glances. Whether she had noticed the slightly darker tie you had worn that day.

She had noticed all of it.

Violet’s gruff voice cut through your thoughts. “Do you hate me?”

Your breath caught. You stiffened. Yes. Yes.

But your lips pressed together.

“No,” you managed.

“No?” Violet repeated.

“Yes, I do,” you corrected, but your voice wobbled. It sounded weak, like even you didn’t believe it. Violet head tilted slightly, her maroon hair slipping over her face the way it always did.

How was she not dying in a suit like that every day?

“Yes, no, yes, no,” she mused, her tone deliberately teasing. “You’re stuttering.”

Your legs pressed together instinctively, your pencil skirt suddenly feeling too much, too tight, too revealing.

You were a pain in the ass. That was the best way to describe you. Someone who knew exactly what to say, what to do, to get a reaction out of you.

Violet was someone who never needed approval, who carried herself like she owned the room. And now, that smugness was focused entirely on you.

The room felt hot. You reached for your collar, but before your fingers could slip beneath the fabric, Violet voice stopped you.

“You don’t have to wear that tie if you have to keep loosening it.” Her voice was softer now, but still edged with something knowing. “But again, you have tons of bad habits. Can’t expect you to just stop.”

Your fingers froze around the fabric.

Then, she stepped forward.

Her presence was impossible to ignore. Broader frame, heavier stance, rougher edges. Her hands slid into her pockets, the motion easy, casual, like she wasn’t closing the space between you two on purpose.

She was.

You were still against the counter, meaning she had the height advantage now. Even though the difference wasn’t that much, standing above you like this, she felt taller.

Her fingers hesitated before brushing against the smooth white collar of your shirt. Your breath hitched. Your skin burned.

Your eyes flickered, searching for an escape — except you didn’t want to escape. Her thumb traced up and down along your pulse, slow and deliberate. Your stomach curled.

Then, she nudged your chin up. The silence was unbearable.

“Violet,” you breathed.

Her hand faltered.

Three years of strict last-name basis, and now you had just said it.

No one called ever really called her Violet. No one. It was always something shorter, sharper, less personal.

You sounded good saying it.

“Violet? So intimate,” she taunted, her fingers tapping against your cheek. It wasn’t meant to piss you off. But you wanted to piss her off.

Your fingers shot out, grabbing the tie between them, yanking her closer. Embarrassingly, your noses bumped. But that didn’t stop you. One hand fisted around the tie, the other gripping her bicep, steady, grounding. You felt the way her muscles tensed beneath your palm, felt the pause as her breath hitched.

You didn’t hesitate.

Your lips caught hers, firm, certain, and when she didn’t pull away —when she didn’t resist— you took.

You finally felt the scar along her upper lip, traced the curve of it with your own mouth, tasted the hesitation that melted into something hotter, something heavier. Mapping her out.

Violet didn’t know what to do with her hands at first. They hovered at your back, hesitant, but her eyes were barely cracked open, watching, waiting. Either you could stop here, or you could throw everything out the window.

Then you bit her fuller bottom lip, tugging and letting it ripple into place.

Violet groaned.

And suddenly, the second option sounded so much more appealing.

Violet hadn’t expected this ever.

You had always been untouchable. Not in the literal sense, but in every way that mattered. Unreachable, impenetrable, untamed in your own rigid way. You did what you needed to do: woke up, worked, excelled, then left the HQ like none of it ever touched you.

But this?

Violet barely had time to register it before her hands moved, gripping your hips, pulling at your pencil skirt with little care, silently begging, urging for things to move further.

Your knees buckled as Violet backed you against the edge of a table, the cool marble pressing into the backs of your thighs as she settled between them, crowding you and consuming every ounce of space.

Her fingers looped through the knot of your tie —that stupid, fidgeted-with-like-a-necklace tie— and with a single sharp tug, it came loose. Slipping down. Forgotten.

Then, her hand cupped the back of your neck, pressing her lips against yours with something so deep, so thick with years of this, years of tension, of misplaced resentment, of fuck, how did we get here.

And yet, neither of you wanted to stop.

Violet's fingers traced from the back of your neck to the front of your throat, just barely gripping. It was already hard to breathe, but the idea of that, of her taking it just a little further? It had your stomach twisting.

Kissing the woman you had despised for years was going to be hilarious to explain.

But later.

Not now.

“Is the door—locked?” you barley managed out, your glossed lips brushing against hers, voice raw, uneven. Violet shook her head, hummed, lips curling against yours.

“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, Her hands moving. She slid one down to your thigh, gripping and propping it around her waist.

Then her mouth descended.

Hot, wet kisses trailed down the slope of your throat, her tongue flicking out just slightly, savoring the mix of sweat and whatever faint perfume lingered on your skin.

Your pulse pounded beneath her lips, and Violet felt something deep in her tighten at the sound of your breath hitching, the way your body gave just slightly, as if caught between pure instinct and resistance.

Her palm landed against the underside of your thigh, firm, not particularly harsh, but a deliberate smack.

A sharp, raspy gasp broke from your lips, your body twitching against hers, bottom lip swollen from the way you had abused it between sloppy, desperate kisses.

Violet’s eyes flickered, catching the way you tensed, how your cheeks were burning, how your hands trembled against her chest.

Everything needed to come off.

Her fingers dragged up your thigh. Rubbing in slow, lazy circles before moving up, slipping beneath the first few buttons of your work blouse.

One by one with one hand.

Meticulously.

You slowly sucked in a breath, your own hands fisting the fabric of her blazer.

Violet let go of you entirely, her fingers deftly working the rest of your buttons open, sliding the blouse off your shoulders before carelessly tossing it onto the chair beside the table. Her gaze swept over you, dark and unreadable, before she bit her bottom lip, teeth smoothing over it as she exhaled through her nose.

She didn't know what was better: finally having you, the woman who had spent years making her job hell, unraveling beneath her touch, or the sheer fact that you looked this damn good doing it.

Her hand moved instinctively, fingers splaying across the lace covering your chest, feeling the warmth of your skin through the fabric. She pressed a kiss between the valley of your breasts, slowly before trailing up, tongue flicking over your collarbones.

The sounds leaving your lips sent something sharp through her, something she had never allowed herself to acknowledge before now. Your legs tensed around her hips, a burning heat building between them. Your pussy was drenched.

Then, she moved. Rolling her hips forward, pressing herself against you, the friction earning a shaky grunt from your throat.

You felt good.

Her hand traced down your spine, unhooking your bra with ease. The straps loosened, fabric slipping from your body, and Violet took a step back to let her eyes drag over you.

She dampened her lips. "I'm so lucky to see you like this. You're so gorgeous.”

Her voice was lower now, rougher, hands returning to you. Thumbs circling your nipples, before sliding down to your waist.

She sat you up, lips grazing your jaw, before murmuring, "What happened to that mouth of yours?"

Her fingers flicked over your erect breasts, and your breath hitched, body arching slightly before you could stop yourself. The sound you made earned a knowing chuckle from her, and before you could snap at her for it, she was moving again, pressing you back against the table.

Her hands slid down your thighs, rolling your skirt up at an agonizing pace.

Violet huffed, giving your knee a light tap.

"Is the pantyhose really necessary?"

You exhaled sharply. "Yes, It is."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something amused behind it, something fond — before her fingers traced slow circles over the thin, black fabric covering you.

And then, without hesitation, she hooked her fingers through the material and tore it.

A sharp gasp left your lips. "Vi! Those were expen—"

She silenced you with another sharp tug, the ruined fabric giving way enough to give her the space she wanted. She could have pulled them down, but this was much better.

The sight of you like this, obedient beneath her, legs trembling slightly, breath uneven.

She wanted to ruin you further.

Jesus.

Her hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting and adjusting them until they rested over her shoulders.

Your breathing hitched, erratic. You knew what was coming, felt it before it even happened, but when her lips finally met your pussy; wet and painfully slow. You gasped, your spine curving inward, nails curling into the marble beneath you.

A broken sound left you, high and breathless. "That’s so good."

Violet huffed a quiet laugh against you. "I haven't even started yet."

She hooked your panties aside, her mouth pressing against you fully, tongue dragging slow, then flicking, savoring, sucking on your swelled clit. She worked like she had time, like this was something to be unraveled piece by piece, something she could take apart and put back together again.

Your clammy hands flew to grip the edge of the table, your body shifting under her touch, her mouth sending sharp waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"Fuhh—ck, Vi." Your voice cracked.

That only spurred her on, hands gripping your thighs tighter, nails pressing into your skin as she curved her tongue, shifting her movements, searching, memorizing what made you fall apart.

She had spent years watching you, knowing exactly how to get under your skin. It was fun to put it to use.

Violet’s mouth worked you over with hungry desperation, her tongue sucking every inch of skin she could reach. Your folds, pulsing clit, labia — every so often, she flicked her gaze upward, watching you writhe against the table. Back arching, lips parting in helpless, breathless sounds.

If she had known this was the key to shutting you up, to finally silencing that sharp mouth of yours, she would have done this sooner.

Her lips curled against you, satisfaction lacing her voice as she murmured, “Good girl. How’s this? Yeah? So good?”

Her breath was hot and damp against your skin, sending a shudder through your sopping core.

Your only response was a whimper, your hand sliding up to your chest; grasping at yourself, desperate for anything to ground you. But the moment you tried to regain control, Violet sucked on your clit once more with enough force to break it.

Your spine arched off the table. Another sharp, wrecked gasp slipped past your lips. Violet’s grip tightened on your thighs, dragging you closer, forcing your legs to stay apart as she devoured you like you were her last damn meal.

The pleasure was too much —too sharp, too overwhelming— but stopping now wasn’t an option.

“So—” your voice trembled, barely coherent, “so, so good, Violet.”

Your hips rocked against her mouth, helpless against the way she was working you over, keeping you open, keeping you hers.

This was insane.

Doing this in the employee lounge? Absolutely wrong.

“Keep your legs around my shoulders,” Violet ordered, voice rough, edged with something close to command. “If you move, I’m stopping.”

Your breath hitched. Before you could protest, she lifted her hand to her lips, sucking two fingers between them, coating them with her own spit. Saliva moved down the digits in thick beads.

Then, she thrusted them inside of you. Wet enough to take them in one go.

Your body jolted, your nails scraping against the table as the pressure spread you open, slick and hot and perfect. You were definitely breaking a nail today.

Violet whistled lowly, amused, before curling them just right—

“My—God!”

The sound ripped out of you raw and shameless.

Violet hummed, the vibration shattering against you, her fingers sinking deeper, curling again, chasing that sound like it was her new favorite thing in the world.

The sound of your squelching pussy that sucked her in and tightened when she moved even just a second too quickly. She loved it.

“You’re a mess, baby.”

Violet’s voice was thick with amusement, her palm coming down to deliver a second sharp smack against your reddened thigh. Before you could react, she spit. A slow gesture. Watching as it mixed with the release already dripping down your swollen, aching core.

Her right hand never stopped, fingers still working in and out of you, dragging along every sensitive spot. Rough, but slow. Just enough to make sure you felt everything — every curl, every drag, every time she pulled out just to push deeper. Your insides protested, torn between needing a break and wanting more.

She smirked, tilting her head. “Look at you.”

She blew a soft stream of air over your glistening cunt, watching the way your body twitched in response.

Your head was somewhere else. Your hips moved on their own, helpless to the sensation coursing through you. Strings of moans and profanity fell from your lips, your body tightening around her fingers, pulsing — begging without words.

“Vi,” you whimpered. Your lashes damp with unshed tears.

She hummed in response, but didn’t let up, her fingers keeping that same relentless, torturous pace. A shaky moan ripped from your throat, your thighs trembling over her shoulders.

“I think—I think I’m going to come.”

Violet’s ashy eyes flicked up to you at your words, dark and heated, before her lips curled.

“Yeah?”

She then went faster.

Your gasp turned into a cry, body jolting at the sharp, intense pleasure flooding your sensitive nerves. There was no way no one had heard you two—not when you were here, back arched, lips parted, begging for her, falling apart because of her.

“No—! I—Vi! I can’t—!”

Your legs snapped shut around her head as your body tensed, spine bowing as the orgasm hit you. Ripping through your system, spilling over Violet’s fingers and dripping onto the marble beneath you.

Your breathing came in heavy. Overstimulation setting in as your body shuddered through the aftershocks.

Violet finally pulled her fingers from you, gaze flickering between your spent, trembling form and the slick coating her hand. Then, without hesitation, she brought her fingers to her lips and gave them a slow and greedy suck.

Your back falls flat on the cool marble.

Vi had won, again.

[thehoneybeestings]

Enemies to Lovers with Dancer!Vi x Dancer!Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Content/Warnings: enemies to lovers, modern!au, dancer!vi au, dancer!reader, suggestive, fem reader (gn pronouns used, though), probably some dance discrepancies because i'm not a dancer myself

A/N: I had so much fun writing this; Vi and reader are so sassy like can y'all just fuck it out already... anyway, hope you guys enjoy!

Love, Bee ୨ৎ

୨ৎ The day your mom took you to your local dance company's performance of The Nutcracker was the day your love for dance began

୨ৎ At 7, you could hardly tell the difference between The Royal Ballet and Piltover Springs Dance School; and to say you were in awe was the understatement of the century

୨ৎ The glittering tutus, the leaps and twirls; you were sure you'd just discovered what you wanted to be when you grew up: A Ballerina

୨ৎ And here you were now; not quite a Royal Ballerina, but, you'd just gotten cast as The Sugar Plum Fairy in the very same annual performance of The Nutcracker you'd seen 11 years ago

୨ৎ You were beaming, trying your best to contain your excitement as the director of the school read out the rest of the cast list, until...

୨ৎ "For the first time in Piltover Springs Dance School history, our board was left completely at a loss when attempting to choose between our two top contenders for Star Senior. For this reason, we unanimously agreed that this year's Senior Showcase will feature both students. We’ve decided on a contemporary duet, and for this piece, we've chosen Y/n Y/l/n, and Violet Lanes. Round of applause for this year's Star Seniors!"

୨ৎ Your smile drops as quickly as it had appeared on your face just minutes ago

୨ৎ What. The. Hell.

୨ৎ You'd been pushing yourself beyond measure to earn this distinction, and if you were being honest, you'd rather not have earned it all than be the first student in the school's history forced to share it; and nevertheless, with Violet Lanes

୨ৎ As much you loved dance, you hated Violet; who was now more commonly referred to as Vi, courtesy of the nickname her first dance teacher gave to her

୨ৎShe’d been taking Hip-Hop lessons at the school for as long as you'd been taking Ballet lessons, and by the time you both started taking the same contemporary dance class in the 6th grade, your instructors had already started placing bets on which one of you it would be to earn the Star Senior distinction

୨ৎ You wonder if maybe you and Vi could've become friends if it weren't for how fiercely competitive you both were

୨ৎ But, alas: the two of you were nothing if not fiercely competitive, and oh how ironic it was that you'd now share the distinction that had driven you two so far apart

୨ৎ Clearly, Ekko was loving the irony

୨ৎ "Alright, alright, Star Senior! I can't wait for this one..." he'd say, rubbing his hands together with a shit-eating grin on his face

୨ৎ "I'm so pissed," you'd laugh incredulously, shoving pointe shoes into your bag, "I’d even let Caitlyn have my goddamn spot instead!”

୨ৎ "Ouch,"

୨ৎ You'd recognize the voice behind you anywhere

୨ৎ "If we're gonna be spending this much time together, you might wanna learn to love me, sugar plum.”

୨ৎ You turn to see Vi holding out a piece of paper- the schedule for the upcoming dance season- and your eyes scan for the following dates and times:

୨ৎ Mon, Tues, Thurs, Fri- Company Rehearsal: The Nutcracker; 5:30-7:00 PM

୨ৎ Mon, Tues, Wed, Thurs, Fri- Senior Showcase Rehearsal; 7:15-8:00 PM

୨ৎ You double, triple, quadruple check that you’re seeing this right

୨ৎ "Every day...?" you whisper, mostly to yourself

୨ৎ "Every day. Short sessions, so we can't really afford not to meet every day."

୨ৎ You look up to find that she's sucking her teeth, trying her best not to crack a satisfied smile at the irritation on your face, and anger pierces through you like a lightning bolt

୨ৎ “You're such a dick,” you seethe, eyes narrowed

୨ৎ She just rolls her own in response, unphased as usual; you'd never been able to get a rise out of her the way she could get one out of you, and that just pissed you off even more

୨ৎ “Look,” she sighs, “I don't want to do this stupid ass duet any more than you do, and I sure as hell didn't bust my ass for this distinction so that I could share it, so let's just get the show over with, and then we never have to see each other again. Cool?”

୨ৎ And you admit- for the first time ever, and certainly not out loud- that she's right; you just needed to get through the next eight months, and then you'd never have to see Violet Lanes again…

୨ৎ But why didn't that feel as good to think about as you thought it would? 

୨ৎ When 7:15 PM rolls around the next evening, you're already spent from your first day of rehearsals for The Nutcracker

୨ৎ You're hot, sweaty, and tired; and when you walk in a minute late to see Vi checking the imaginary watch on her hand, you know the next few months are going to test your patience like nothing has before

୨ৎ “Don’t piss me off,” you spit, shaking your head as you hold a hand out to her

୨ৎ Vi quirks an eyebrow and chuckles through her nose. "Hello to you too, sugar plum."

୨ৎ You scoff at the stupid nickname before you both turn to the instructor, whose eyebrows are raised as he wonders what the hell he's just gotten himself into

୨ৎ The two of you barely speak to each other during your rehearsals; you're just there to learn the moves, and frankly, try not to end each session at each other’s throats

୨ৎ The latter is a bit of a challenge for the two of you, surprising no one, but what does surprise you is the undeniable chemistry you and Vi have as dance partners

୨ৎ You two are quick to learn every move, and even quicker to learn each other; you sync effortlessly… 

୨ৎ Until, the lift

୨ৎ You could not-for the life of you- get the damn lift down

୨ৎ In fact, it takes an entire week of rehearsals to get halfway there, and even then, it's nowhere near performance-ready

୨ৎ "We might have to scratch the lift and come up with something else," your instructor muses, scratching his chin and looking down at his notebook for other ideas

୨ৎ And Vi is quick to notice the way your face falls in response to his words

୨ৎ To know you was to know someone who demanded perfection from themselves, and it was evident that the idea of not being able to handle something as simple as a lift was going to eat at you

୨ৎ And so, she asks you to stay late that day… a proposal you immediately reject, because,

୨ৎ “I don’t need extra practice, and I certainly don’t need to spend more time with you.”

୨ৎ “Y/n,” she’d deadpan, hands on her hips, “Cut the shit. This is why we can’t get the lift down. You freeze up as soon as you get halfway in the air, and when you hesitate, I hesitate, and then I start to drop you, and all of this because you hate me so much that you can’t even relax into a lift you learned to do when you were 15.”

୨ৎ You huff out a laugh, raising your eyebrows and crossing your arms

୨ৎ “Seriously?” You challenge, “Well… maybe you’re just not strong enough to-”

୨ৎ She quirks an eyebrow and gives you a knowing smirk

୨ৎ Yeah… you kinda figured that one wouldn’t work

୨ৎ “Okay… well, I actually learned to do that lift when I was 13, so it’s been a while since-”

୨ৎ “Y/n,” she interrupts, her voice much more stern than the first time your name left her lips 

୨ৎ “What?!” you seethe, now kicking yourself for getting so damn flustered

୨ৎ Vi takes a step forward, and for the first time in your 7-year-long rivalry, her expression softens as she speaks to you

୨ৎ And something blossoms in your belly; something much too close to butterflies for your liking…

୨ৎ “What we’re doing… it’s not working anymore.”

୨ৎ You look up at her through your eyelashes, a pout on your face

୨ৎ You know she’s right

୨ৎ “The break-up speech usually happens after we date, for the record,” you mumble

୨ৎ And she can’t help but laugh, and you can’t help but crack a smile, and have her eyes always crinkled up like that when she laughs?

୨ৎ “C’mon, you know what I mean. You don’t have to like me… but you’ve at least gotta trust me. Just enough for me to hold you in the air for like, three seconds,” she chuckles, “can you do that?”

୨ৎ You stare at her; pensive, hesitant

୨ৎ “I can try.”

୨ৎ “Okay,” she breathes out with a smile, “Then let’s try.”

୨ৎ She presses play on her phone, the same 10-second interval that you’ve heard countless times now begins playing, and you go for the lift; better this time, but she can feel that you’re still unsure 

୨ৎ “Damn it,” you spit as she places you back onto your feet

୨ৎ But this time, her hands don’t leave your hips

୨ৎ “Hey,” she calls out with a squeeze to your sides, “Relax. It’s okay, you’re doing good. I’ve got you, I promise.” 

୨ৎ She’s never talked to you like this before

୨ৎ Had her voice always sounded so sweet? 

୨ৎ Where did that scar on her lip come from?

୨ৎ When did she get this close to you?

୨ৎ “You good?” 

୨ৎ Your eyes snap up to meet hers, and what a pretty shade of blue, and you don’t even mean to lick your lips, and- 

୨ৎ “No fucking way,” she smirks, “you’re checking me out right now?” 

୨ৎ You’re quick to push off of her, immediately denying such claims

୨ৎ “No! What are you talking about? I’m not-”

୨ৎ “Dude, you so are; you just bit your lip!”

୨ৎ “I did not-” you break with a chuckle, closing your eyes. “I was not checking you out.”

୨ৎ“Look at you! Lying through your teeth! It was so obvious, Y/n, I swear to-”

୨ৎ “Are you gonna keep stating the obvious then? Or are you gonna do something about it?”

୨ৎ And oh, did she.

୨ৎ Right there in the studio. 

୨ৎ (And all those mirrors… really makes you think…)

୨ৎ Anyhow... it's safe to say that the next day, your instructor was pleasantly surprised to find that the lift was suddenly no longer an issue

୨ৎ You have your first costume fitting the next week

୨ৎ Your tutu was baby pink, covered in glitter and Swarovski crystals, and stuck straight out from your hips; it was exactly what you dreamed of wearing when you saw The Nutcracker for the first time

୨ৎ You'd beam at yourself in the mirror before turning to Ekko, who was already in his Nutcracker costume

୨ৎ "How do I look?" You'd ask

୨ৎ "Holy shit,"

୨ৎ You and Ekko would turn to the voice you'd recognize anywhere; and there stood a head of hot-pink hair, leaning against the doorframe of the ballet studio, chewing on a granola bar

୨ৎ "You look like a fucking cupcake."

୨ৎ Ekko would let out a bark of laughter, and you'd roll your eyes

୨ৎ "I'm a Sugar Plum Fairy," you'd correct, annoyance lacing your tone

୨ৎ "The Sugar Plum Fairy, lest I not forget," Vi would tease

୨ৎ And Ekko would think he was going crazy when he sees Vi shoot you a wink, and you smile back

୨ৎ “Pretty,” Vi would muse before strolling off into the hallway

୨ৎ Okay, now he was sure he was going crazy

୨ৎ “Wait… Y/n, is that a hickey on your neck?!”

End ୨ৎ

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

P.S. - so do y'all want a full-length dance studio smut scene or...

[themischiefcollective]

Can’t believe they animated an hour long sex scene in arcane thats crazy

[tankuare]

The level of absolute TOMFOOLERY from these two needs to be studied