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hybridirl · 3 months

Text

cat & mouse.

18+ only, please!

vi x f!thief!reader

a/n: hello everynyan!!!!!! u can call me star. so i’m finally getting around to writing fanfic again! woohoo. *** not story accurate *** i kinda wrote the last part half asleep so sorry chat if it seems a little rushed

brief summary: you steal from vi and she shows you what happens when you fuck with the wrong girl.

tw / rough, DEGRADING, strap on, use of y/n, **DUBCON**, KIDNAPPING, theft, BEATING, spitting, CHOKING, strap referred to as her penis

intentional lowercase. wont be proofread. probably won’t ever be proofread.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

she ran through the streets, her boots stomping against puddles hard. her breathing was heavy as she her haze flickered around to make sure she was getting as far away as she could. she made a sharp turn, down the alley, to the right, she thought to herself.

she took a glance down as if to make sure the bag she stole was still in hand. it was. a little smirk played at her lips. this little bandit wasn’t as rusty as she thought she was. she quickly looked behind her and saw a clear coast. her footsteps slowed and settled and she took a moment for her breath. she leaned against the brick walls of the alley, sliding down to sit. she put the bag in her lap, her fingers finding the button. she fumbled with it slightly as her hands trembled from adrenaline. her eyes widened and glistened as her fingers gently pulled the cover away.

“woah,” she gasped in awe, but only for a moment before she heard a loud thump and feeling her body fall to the ground.

—

when she awoke, her hands went to rub her eyes. as she moved her muscle, she found it difficult to move her arm. she tugged at it, and her eyes flickered around although they were still blurry with sleep. her wrists were bound, as were her legs she found out as she looked down.

fuck! she found herself thinking. her brows furrowed in panic. she thrashed against the restraints as her chest heaved in worry.

“h…” she started to shout, but her voice was hoarse and her throat sore. where the fuck am i? she thought desperately to herself. it was a simple room. one bed. a few decorations. someone’s home. she was tied up on a chair in someone’s home?

she didn’t have to wait for long to know whose home it was as her eyes caught a brooding figure lurking in the corner. she almost squeaked as she tried to shuffle away, but the chair and restraints held her tightly in place. she couldn’t recognize the figure considering the darkness of the room.

“please,” she found herself shakily whispering, “please, don’t hurt me.” she swallowed hard as she watched the figure shift their weight as they stepped closer and out of the dark. the moon was shy that night, the light barely reflecting off their features. she recognized the face; she had stolen from this pink haired person that day. “i’m sorry!” she gasped at recognition. “i’m sorry, i- i—“

“shut the fuck up,” her voice growled. she yelped as the woman kicked the chair over, her head banging against the floor. she groaned in pain as her head began to throb. “messed with the wrong fucking girl.” she grunted as she kicked her arm harshly, earning another cry. “you think you can fucking steal from me? who the fuck do you think you are? i’ve been in this goddamn business long than you’ve been a-fucking-live.” her foot landed on the younger woman’s stomach, knocking the air out of her. she could feel her skin stinging and blood flooded the area under, creating a dark bruise in just a few short moments. she yanked her hair back, forcing her to look up at her. “tell me what the hell your name is.”

she let her jaw drop as she tried to speak, but only groans escaped.

“ah…” she panted, tears falling out her eyes. “…y/n.”

“y/n, huh?” she growled and dropped her head harshly, making her head knock against the floor once more.

“you know what kinda shit i would’ve been in? huh?” she asked with sheer rage in her voice, slapping her face to force an answer out.

“i- i’m sorry!” she cried, shaking her head every which way. “please, stop, i’m sorry!”

“fucking girl,” she hissed, “i didn’t ask you to apologize, i asked you if you knew what kinda shit i’d be in. now, answer me.” she clenched her jaw with her hand, her cheeks squishing and puffing.

“i don’t know!” she replied with that fish face, her words coming out weird and wrong. the woman spit at her, watching her flinch and her eyes shut as the spit made contact with her eye. her eyes shut tight and her face scrunched in disgust. she thrashed her head as she tried to move out her grip. “please!”

“tell me why i should forgive you,” she growled, deep and menacing. she released her grip and circled the chair that lay on the ground like a predator.

“i don’t know,” she heaved, “please, i- i was just trying t-to survive, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. it won’t ever happen again, you won’t ever see me again, i promise…” tears left, a faucet unable to be turned off. snot dripped from her nose and her lips swelled with blood.

“i bet you’re goddamn sorry,” the woman whispered, her eyes filled with hate as she stared into the younger woman’s. “you’re gonna pay me back. you know that? you’re gonna pay for trying to steal from me.”

she nodded slowly, whimpers leaving her throat. she bent down, lifting the chair and setting it up straight. her eyes went fuzzy as blood pressure dropped.

“i…” she breathed shakily, “…i’m sorry, i’m sorry…” her eyes fluttered, wanting to fall unconscious as her body throbbed painfully.

“i know you are.”

“i’m so sorry.”

“i said fucking know.” she raised her foot, watching as the kidnappee flinched. she chuckled almost darkly as she used the tip of her shoe to spread her thighs.

“what are you gonna do to me? whatever you want me to do i’ll do it, i promise i’ll do it, just don’t hurt—“ she cut herself off as she froze, feeling the pressure of her shoe’s sole meet her heat. she used the tip of her shoe to press against the top of her vulva, pressing against her clothed clit.

“that shuts you up? shoulda done this way before. but you deserved that shit,” she growled as she pressed her foot harder. she tried to lift herself up while she squirmed. it began to become painful, the pressure on that sensitive bud.

“please—“

“please what? stop? more? does it hurt?” she mocked the younger woman’s small voice at the end, a chuckle leaving. she leaned in, her breath hitting her ear. “i’m gonna fuck you, y’know. hard. teach you a goddamn lesson.” she swallowed and squirmed a little as she watched the pink-haired woman shrug her red jacket off.

“d-don’t,” she gasped, “hurt me.”

she rolled her eyes and her belts came off easily. she dropped one and kept the other; her hands formed an almost tear drop with the belt and her arm pulled back, slapping the belt against her thighs. she screamed and looked up with these poor little eyes. the woman tugged her pants down and climbed out of her boots. she glanced at the pool of clothes.

she felt her heart race as she watched the woman.

“please,” she whimpered. she was unsure of what she wanted. this woman had just beaten her, and now she wants to have sex with her? this whiplash was hurting her brain and clouding her thoughts.

the woman pulled her shirt off. she noticed the lack of bra, her breasts perky and nipples growing erect. she broke eye contact with her breasts and they flickered to her eyes.

“your turn,” the woman growled and tugged at her shirt, tearing and ripping it to reveal her bra. “hiding from me, huh?” she reached behind her, and the young woman arched her back to give her better access. she unclasps her bra, watching as her bra fall and her breasts free from their confines. “fu—ck, yeah.” her hand cupped the young woman’s jaw and her fingers cupped her breast. her fingers tweaked a nipple while her mouth engulfed her other nipple, feeling it harden as she sucked.

“miss,” she whined a little. the woman’s gaze flickered upward just for a moment before her fingers flew to the button of y/n’s pants. she tugged them downward, along with her underwear. she wriggled a little as the cold air hit that heat between her legs.

“hell,” she mumbled and her fingers immediately went to feel. her finger pad pressed against her the young woman’s clit, causing a whine to escape from her throat.

“please, miss, i- i’m-“

“needy?” she finished her sentence while rubbing soft but tight circles on her clit. “i gotta taste you.” she tugged at the tail of the rope, freeing her legs from confinement. she pulled her lower from the chair with her ankles, a painful and uncomfortable angle as her arms outstretched behind her while her ass sat right at the edge of the chair. the older woman’s nostrils flared as she inhaled the musky scent of her cunt. “oh, shit… haven’t had any pussy for so long. forgot how… mm…” she let her voice trail as her tongue met with y/n’s clit. her fingers gently pulled back the hood of the sensitive bud to reveal the entirety of it; her tongue swirled circles around it, making her hips gently rock and her legs tremble.

“miss—“

“vi. say vi,” she groaned into her pussy, the vibrations making her jump.

“vi,” she whimpered, her hands clenched as her walls clenched around nothing but air. vi chuckled when she noticed, so she brought her fingers to it. she gently circled the entrance with her middle finger and slowly dipped it into her canal. she curled her finger to bump and massage her g-spot while her lips sucked at her clit. y/n moaned desperately, her back arching and her arms aching from the position.

“tha—t’s it,” vi said between a suck. her teeth gently grazed the small button and she watched her shake and tremble. she pulled away and chuckled at her needy squirms for friction. “hold on a minute, cupcake,” she teased with an evil smirk on her face. she stood up, y/n’s gaze following her as she rummaged through a nightstand. she watched as she pulled out a harness, and a dildo. a pretty damn big one. it was skin colored, matching hers, with a light pink head. it was thicker and veiny, and all y/n wanted to do was have it in her mouth.

she felt her cunt drool and her hole twitch.

vi slipped into the harness, making it tight around her waist so it bumped her clit just right.

“you’re staring, you little thief,” she growled and stepped closer and behind the chair. she unfastened the ropes, letting her arms fall free. y/n gasped with relief.

she gasped as vi picked her up with ease, tossing her to the bed as if she were a toy.

“fuck, this little cunt is begging for me,” vi laughed mockingly. “you’re so fucking horny.” she cupped y/n’s pussy and watched her squirm. she rubbed her vulva with her hand, then gave it a tight, sharp slap. she jumped and stared with a pouty face. “wha—t? you deserve a punishment for stealing from me.” she tapped the dildo against her cunt, the head of the cock tapping right against her engorged clit.

“mmf, please,” she whined, her back arching, “in me.” vi’s mouth met the space between y/n’s breasts, kissing and sucking at each side.

“be patient. lemme take a look at you.” she hissed in admiration and brought her finger to a needy nipple, rolling it between her index and thumb. she brought it back down to her hip and aimed the cock at her entrance, slowly intruding into her tightness.

“oh, god,” she found herself moaning out. “…vi.”

“that’s right,” she egged her on, “take this fucking cock.” the stretch was delicious and foreign and yet so familiar. her legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her in closer. her hips began at a steady rhythm as she found the right pace for both y/n and herself while the harness scraped against her engorged, needy clit.

but, she needed more.

and of course what she wants, she gets.

her hips increased, as did the pleasure on her clit.

“vi!” she yelped as she felt the cock pummel into her deeply, bumping and scraping her g-spot rhythmically and relentlessly. “vi, vi, vi!”

“scream my name, you fucking slut,” she growled beastly, “stupid goddamn thief.” she brought a harsh hand to her face, watching as she winced and gasped. “take it. take it. take it.” her hands wrapped around her throat, cutting off her bloodstream just slightly to her head.

her vision went a little fuzzy but her pleasure went in overdrive, seeing so many different colors and her eyes focusing and unfocusing and oh! she was cumming. hard.

she practically was sucking the dildo in, her walls contracting so harshly around it. she cried out, her arms flailing as they tried to find a place to stay. her back arches and her body shook.

“fuckin’ look at you! coming undone on my cock like the dirty little disgusting slut you are!” her hips continued, brutal and relentless until her own climax. she came hard too, riding it out desperately to ease the aching and pounding of her clit. “oh, fuck…” she panted, pulling slowly out her wetness; the dildo glistened with her desire.

“again?”

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xiihyunn · 10 months

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⚢ Navigation ⚢

hi! i'm xiihyun, hyun for short.

— i am a filo 18+ writer/author, who just writes for fun in her spare time.

! BYF ! : make sure you're NOT a minor and a man. my writings are strictly for the women only, and plus why is a man reading my lesbian smuts??

→ requests are closed ! i still have a bunch of pending requests that i need to write :)

— extra info :

> discord: cutieval#6881

> wattpad: @/xiihyun

i only write for:

jenna ortega

melissa barrera

mikey madison

and ofc their characters too.

i only write:

smuts

smutty drabbles

smutty headcanons

and smut smut smut.

⚢ Masterlist (NSFW) ⚢

ⓘ Warning: This is a 18+ blog. Read at your own risks, and if the following topics and suggestive themes make you uncomfortable, you know what to do.

open to any smut requests. just be a good girl about it, darling.

Jenna Ortega

My Confession — nun!r x exorcist!jenna

Vampire — human!r x gpvampire!jenna

Knife Play — r x murderer!jenna

First — virgin!r x gpvirgin!vada

other:

nsfw headcanons — tara carpenter

nsfw alphabet headcanons (a-g) — tara carpenter

nsfw alphabet headcanons (h-p) — tara carpenter

nsfw alphabet headcanons (q-v) — tara carpenter

nsfw alphabet headcanons (w-z) — tara carpenter

how sorry you are — vada cavell drabble

nsfw headcanons — g!p vada cavell

hand job — jenna ortega drabble

Melissa Barrera

horny — sam carpenter drabble

frat party — sam carpenter drabble

more soon.

ghostface costume — samantha loomis drabble

nsfw headcanons — sam carpenter / samantha loomis

Mikey Madison

you're mine — amber freeman drabble

masturbating — amber freeman drabble

7 minutes in heaven — amber freeman drabble

bikini — amber freeman drabble

ass — max fox drabble

more soon.

#jenna ortega #melissa barrera #mikey madison #wednesday addams #tara carpenter #vada cavell #sam carpenter #amber freeman #scream #scream v #scream vi #imagines #jenna ortega smuts #sam carpenter smuts #amber freeman smut #xiihyunn #idk how to tag lol

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luvmei · 2 years

Text

easily flustered

vi x f!reader hcs゛ ⿻

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆̩·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆̩*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩‧.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆̩·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆̩*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.

pair ￫ vi x femme reader, friendly & bashful

cw ￫ fluff, nsfw, not proofread, rushed

✦、i needed to get something out, i really need more determination to finish my work. i'll try have trembling published asap * ₊ ・

sfw!,

vi takes pride in the fact her bare voice can make you shy away, but she'd never take advantage of you with that

you're referred to as things like vi's lamb because of your sheepish persona

she finds you adorable and melts at the way you're so friendly, in zaun kindness is extremely rare — not to mention stillwater. you're like a diamond from the bottom of the sea to the pinkette

people may find the pair strange, a headstrong woman with a sensitive and polite lady. some bystanders may insult you two but vi always just covers your ears, "don't listen to them. i love you no matter what, we're okay."

she makes sure not to be too gruesome or violent when beating their faces in as to not scare you. they couldn't just walk around freely and go unpunished now, could they?

has a tendency to zone out on your face (especially your cheeks) and loves to watch it deepen into a rosary pigment, nearly matching her hair

you find vi so beautiful that keeping eye contact is extremely difficult. her flirtatiousness doesn't help at all — constantly burying your face into books or palms in attempts to hide. that pretty little head of yours always ends up in her hands though, "oh, no no please don't hide, let me see that pretty smile."

when vi had introduced you to caitlyn insecurity began to bubble up within you. cait was neat, proper, and very composed — polar opposites.

the thoughts kept flooding in and your positivity had faded moments ago, vi noticed the shift of atmosphere. she never failed to reassure and comfort you, "you are everything to me y/n, that bashfulness is a part of you; it's special and charming. even if that changed i would still love you continuously."

strange as it may sound, because of excessive blushing you resemble a hand body? warmer. vi runs very hot and finds the fact you're warmer extremely comforting. some days she just needs a break and takes deep naps with you in her arms or vice versa

this girl is so head over heels for you. all she's known is to toughen up and be on guard, yet your carefree and welcoming personality is so refreshing. you're her reminder that it's okay to not be so strong and any second spent with you is euphoric. the rabbit hole of love has vi so deep that she see's you as an angel in disguise

"so perfect.." yes, most of the time she's a sap but the sly part of her tends to outshine that display of adoration. straight knees were placed beside yours, toned arms laid against your head, pinning you to the seat. in this position vi could see every feature of yours, "you're so cute like this. i wonder though, what kind of expressions would you make in bed?"

that happens quite often..

sometimes people just hand things to you since you're too afraid to ask, but vi wants to hear your voice no matter what. she constantly teases and encourages you to speak more, "come on angel. don't be afraid, what do you want?

being shy can be stressful. vi did research with caitlyn about people who are often anxious and learned it causes tension in the body. expect some nightly massages

orders food for you and never leaves your side when trading with merchants, and she is definitely the type to keep a hand on your waist. okay, okay, w vi

nsfw!,

god, why is she so hot

if you ever decide to try and mute yourself with a pillow just know it'll be tossed to the side eventually. don't even try use your hands to hide yourself because they'll soon be pinned above your head

she takes great care of you, in many ways. peppers kisses from your jawline down to the neck and shoulders as a distraction for the hands between your legs

vi wants to see, feel, and taste all of you. she simply doesn't let you try and 'hover' over her. no way. her face will be your throne whether you like it or not

you try and repay her, yet most of the she just denies it and says, "don't worry about it cupcake. your pleasure is mine." she actually gets off to you feeling good, but there's no way you're just gonna sit around being a pillow princess 24/7

when she does let you take the lead you're showered with praises, she tears up slightly the first time. nobody had treated her so gently, "god you're doing so well.. fuck. i love you i love you i love you."

bought a clear strap with sparkles to not "scare you" the first time (?) it was awfully cute

many people were intrigued by your friendliness and kindness, they tried to flirt or take advantage of you but luckily there were always opportunities to get away safely. now that vi is here, she helped you realize what everybody had been doing; by taking you home herself.

you told vi you were anxious at first about how she'd react to your body, that very same day she cherished you, slowly removing every piece of clothing with an affirmation. litters kisses on every part of your skin and kisses your tears of happiness away.

the stronger woman carefully lowered the straps of your dress, "you're so beautiful. do you know that?" "you tell me everyday.." hands trailed up from the small of your back up to your temples softly. "and i mean it every single time." her lips met your collarbone and slipped off the rest of your garments lovingly yet oh, so, slowly; watery eyes began to form from the amount of love you were receiving. vi kissed away the tears that were trailing down your cheek. "if i had met you sooner my love, i would spend every single second i had giving you the good things you were deprived of. " the moon shone so perfectly on your skin, making your damp face glisten. i wouldn't mind dying to the sight of this. vi shamelessly thought. she took care of you in that same pace, lovingly, painfully slow. you're her angel — you deserve it all.

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notyetjae · 2 years

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hey there! before saying anything, i adore your writing. please keep it up!

if you’re accepting requests, i was wondering if you could do a vi x reader, vi eating the reader out? (praise and eye contact if that’s okay too!)

𝙄'𝙢 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 !

₊˚. ୭̥ Pairing: Vi x f!reader !

₊˚. ୭̥ WC: 1.8k !

₊˚. ୭̥ Warnings: !SMUT! -18/ageless blogs DNI, Slight angst, hurt/comfort, praise kink, cunnilingus, fingering, half proofread, sweet/pretty girl used 4×

₊˚. ୭̥ A/N: Sorry this took so long :( !

The door to your apartment creaked open, your body ached as you stepped inside, working 10+ hours with no break and constantly being on your feet was extremely exhausting, not to mention horrible for your mental well being. You tried to shove all thoughts of work away, you threw your jacket onto the couch under your windowsill and trudged to your living room, each heavy footstep making your floorboards loudly squeak.

"Tired?" Your girlfriend, Violet, questioned peering over her shoulder. You slumped over the back of the couch and let out a dramatic groan before kicking off your boots and rolling onto the cushions, "You could've walked around" She teased, her hands began toying with your hair, your head rested in her lap.

She didn't say much besides how was your day and I love you, but her presence was comforting enough, you always admired how Vi could truly relax at the end of the day, it was like the second she left for home she had a completely clear head. Soon enough you drifted asleep

You lazily opened your eyes, blinking away the sleep haze. Vi was gone and her book was resting on the coffee table, you searched the room for any more signs of her before peering into the kitchen and hallway, nothing. You groaned as you began dragging yourself to your shared bedroom, lazily opening the wood door. Vi stood by the bed, pulling a loose t-shirt over her head, she smiled when you walked in, “Hey sleepy head,” She said lowly, she pulled you closer, your head rested on her shoulder, “Hi” Your voice still raspy from sleep, you looked over your shoulder, staring at the clock behind her, 12:47am.

“Shit!” You pulled away, startling the pinkette. You were silent for a while, trying to figure out how to get enough sleep without waking up at 3am unable to go back to sleep, you debated staying up but then you worried that you would stay up for too late and oversleep, a bunch of possibilities ran through your head, you were getting so frustrated and stressed something this small, and before you knew it you felt cool tears run down your cheeks.

Vi gently grasped your jaw, making you face her, “Hey what’s wrong?” Her innocent question sent you over the edge, all the stress you’d been accumulating built up in your chest like an overfilled water balloon, you sobbed into her arms, trying to explain your distress, but it all came out in a series of mumbling and sobs.

"Woah, woah slow down." Her palm cupped your face, her thumb gently swept under your eyes, she could tell you felt like you were about to explode, "Come here sweet girl," She whispered, her arms wrapped around you tightly and she swayed left and right, her hand ran up and down your back to soothe you. The two of you stood there for a while, tangled in each other's arms, gently swaying, taking in the comforting silence, Vi was the first to break it, "You alright?" You nodded into her shoulder, you never wanted to let her go, however you eventually pulled away, your hands still clinging to the front of her shirt.

"Do you want me to make you feel better sweetheart?" Her voice was so soft, almost innocent, completely contradicting her lust filled eyes. You knew exactly what she meant, even if she didn't directly say it. The thought of her knuckle deep in you had you rubbing your thighs together while nodding.

"Words." Stern, but with good intent.

"Yes, please." A devilish smile spread across face, she pulled you in for another kiss, her hand slowly traveling down your back before grabbing your ass, you moaned into her mouth. You wrapped your arms around her neck, and Vi pulled away from the kiss to hook her hands under your thighs, she groaned as she picked up, you knew It was just to rile you up, she always noticed how antsy you would get watching her practice boxing, loud grunts leaving her mouth as she ruthlessly slammed her fist into the punching bag, she knew the reason you always excused yourself, she could so clearly imagine you fingering yourself in the bathroom, pretending your own fingers were hers.

She placed you against the bed softly, pushing any stray hairs out of your face, "How'd I get such a pretty girl in my bed?" She rasped, you didn't respond only chuckling as she admired your face, "Fuck, I'm so lucky" She kissed your cheek, then your jaw before returning back your soft lips. The once innocent kiss deepened into a sloppy moan inducing kiss.

You felt her smile against your lips every time you whimpered into her mouth, she loves how reactive you are, she knows you inside and out (literally) and takes great pride in making you scream, still, she has appreciation for your quieter reactions. Her hand was gliding up and down your thigh, the other was palming your chest, eventually she slid her hand underneath your bra to toy with your nipple, drawing more and more moans from you. She broke the kiss, but continued her onslaught on your neck, gently sucking and licking the sensitive skin.

"Can I take this off?" She said against your skin, hand gripping the bottom of your shirt, the feeling of her warm breath made you shudder, you nodded "Words, cupcake" She scolded once more, her fierce eyes meeting yours as she rose up, "Yes, please" She wasted no time taking your shirt and bra off, if it was up to her she'd probably rip them off you.

She was unbelievably gentle, even her kisses, you loved feeling her soft lips against yours, noses clashing as the kiss became more heated, her chest flush against your own, her calloused hand gliding up and down your waist before tangling her fingers in yours. She pulled away from your lips only for a moment, only to latch onto your neck, starting with slow soft kisses, treating you like a porcelain doll. Then she reached your collarbone and the kisses became sloppily, she left trails of spit and the marks became darker and darker. She reached the band of your pants, a hand reached to grab your clothed thigh, "May I?" a smirk spread across her face, "Gods yes," You panted.

She slid your pants off with ease, it took so much restraint for her to not pounce on you. You were absolutely drenched, she thumbed your clothed cunt, "Just for me?" She teased, her voice low and raspy, you whimpered in response earning a chuckle from the pinkette. Vi grasped the band of your underwear and watched your essence cling to the thin fabric, you shuddered at the feeling of your cunt being exposed to the cold air.

She found herself admiring your body once more, the way you eagerly watched, the way you rolled your hips to meet her touch, her eyes wandered from your chest to your stomach to your core, she watched you clench around nothing, and god you were soaked. She held herself back, deciding to focus more on other parts of you. She brings her mouth to your nipple, rolling the bud around her mouth, her rough hand coming up to toy with your other nipple, she pinched hard while she sucked at the soft skin, then she would bite hard enough to leave teeth marks, her hand soothing the sensitive skin before her tongue rolled over the bite marks.

She pulled away from your chest with a satisfying pop, leaving a trail of spit as she sat back, she hummed, pleased with your state, hair disheveled, body covered in sweat, spit and hickeys, essence dripping out of your core onto the sheets underneath you. Your chest rose and fell, hands pawing at the girl's arms, you wanted her closer, you wanted more. She lowered herself between your legs, leaving open mouthed kisses down your thighs, occasionally nipping at the supple skin. She paused right in front of your cunt, teasingly blowing cold air, you moaned loud, gripping the pillow you rested on.

She kissed your core gaging your sensitivity, your hips thrust upwards and you whimpered before tangling your fingers in her hair, her tongue lapped your juices, "Look at me sweet girl," she huffed against you, your glassy eyes met hers.

"More" You uttered, wiggling your hips closer to her face, she laughed, and grabbed your waist with a rough hand in an attempt to keep you pinned, "Patience, cupcake" She sealed the message with a kiss to your inner thigh. Vi's tongue ran through your folds, you whimpered loudly and she continued her kitten licks, legs shutting around her head, her hands moved from your waist to your thighs she squished the plush skin, massaging you as she ate you out like her last meal.

Her tongue ran up and down your folds, prodding your entrance then gliding back up to your bundle of nerves, repeating this action over and over. You were tugging on her hair, not on purpose but subconsciously, the way she moaned into you while her tongue flicked and twirled, it was almost too much.

Loud moans bounced off the walls, in combination with wet sloshing sounds, every time you met her lust filled eyes she moaned loudly into your cunt, when she got the chance she would pull away, just for a moment, to remind you to look at her. The vibrations making you back arch off the bed, she slipped a finger into your heat, slowing her tongue to keep you from cumming too quickly. "Fuck," You cried out, you could feel her smile against you, her finger curling against that sweet spongy spot. She added another finger, she couldn't help but admire the way your pussy swallowed her fingers, the way you tightened around her, bucked your hips while screaming "More, more!"

"You're doing so well, doll."

She sucked harshly, her pace becoming more inconsistent and unhinged, she didn't care about being gentle anymore, she wanted to make you see stars. Your breath hitched as her fingers scissored inside you, the sheets underneath you were drenched with a mix of drool and cum. "S-so close" You mumbled, she moaned into you again, you screamed, stomach tightening as your head fell back, swearing under your breath as she kept sucking and nipping at your clit, with one final curl of her fingers, white hot euphoria rushes over you.

Vi milks your orgasm, kitten licking your bundle of nerves until you pawed at her shoulders to get her off, "Sorry pretty girl" Her lips met yours, slipping a tongue in your mouth, you could taste yourself on her. Violet pulled away, flashing a smile as she removed her fingers, her face was dripping, "You feelin' better?" She asked softly, "Much better." You brought her in for a slow, loving kiss. "You did so well doll," her hand was running up and down your thigh, she stole another kiss from as you ran a hand up her well-built arm, "I can make you feel even better." You said against her scarred lips, maybe staying up late won’t be a problem, after all you can always call out sick.

#arcane #arcane lol #vi x reader #arcane smut #vi smut #arcane imagines #vi x f!reader #vi x afab!reader

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syddsatyrn · 2 years

Text

Downpour

☆Pairing: - Vi x Fem Reader

☆Warnings: Fluff, reader has a breakdown, fingering, angst, happy ending, smut

Minors DNI, scram!

☆Words: 3k

☆Summary: You over did it again, and now you're severely stressed cant seem to stop crying. Everything is just is too much so you navigate your way to Vi's apartment in the rain. She takes such good care of you, but you get caught up in the moment and things take a different turn.

☆Notes: I wanted to do something really sweet and we all love a soft Vi. Consent, lots of cuddles, with a cute ending. Special thanks to @shy-anon-writes she is always super helpful when I get stuck, and she's witty af.

Master list

Another sleepless night curled up in Vi's hoodie while clutching a tear stained pillow. You've been feeling uneasy, distressed, and overall gloomy. Things haven't been working out in your favor lately and the stress from work is so overwhelming. Shaking and sobbing, you hold the pillow tight and let out a few small whimpers. It's getting late and you have plenty to do tomorrow. The thought of another sleepless night made your stomach queasy.

After reluctantly pulling yourself out of bed, you head to the bathroom to wash your puffy red face. You look into the mirror and realize what a mess you are. You start to question your coping skills and you feel like such a crybaby. Usually you can calm yourself down and breathe it out, not this time around.

You miss your girlfriend, but you don't want to bother her. You've been debating on whether or not to get ahold of her. You're supposed to see her this weekend and you don't want to come off as needy or codependent. The relationship is fairly new and you're afraid to overstep any boundaries. You wipe the emerging tears on your sleeve.

Having these breakdowns are always difficult. This only happens when you push yourself too hard. You always end up feeling burnt out, overly stressed, sometimes even nauseous. The tipping point was when you dropped a ceramic cup and it shattered, and so did your composure.

I can't do this anymore.

You think to yourself for a moment and walk back to your room. You open up the closet doors and put on some pants, socks, and step into a pair of boots. Your emotions are fueling your compulsive actions at this point. You grab your bag and a jacket to layer over your hoodie. When you step outside, the pouring rain makes you stop and second guess your decision to leave.

A little rain isn't going to kill you and your girlfriend's apartment wasn't that far away. It is getting late and your only worry is that she's already gone to bed. You take a deep breath, step out onto the sidewalk and make your way to the main road.

The street lights and city traffic illuminated your path. You pull your hood over your head and place your hands in your pockets. Trying not to attract any attention as you pass by a couple of lively bars. You weave through a crowd of people standing in front of a rowdy club. As you follow the sidewalk, you try to avoid the bigger puddles. The rain seemed to be getting worse, so you pick up the pace.

Violet stretches her arms over her head and groans. She puts her book down on the coffee table. It’s been a rough week at work, she's glad to finally have some down time. The pink haired woman gets up and walks over to the kitchen. She grabs an apple off the counter and bites into it, taking out a huge chunk of the sweet fruit. Vi decides to turn on the TV for a while and a familiar sitcom starts to play. She continued to crunch on the apple until there wasn't much left of it. She tosses the core into the trash and decides to tidy up the kitchen before bed.

Vi was wiping down the countertops while her mind wandered. She's been thinking about you too, and is a little worried you haven't texted her since this morning. She assumes you're just having a busy day and that you’ll call her tomorrow. Vi feels somewhat uneasy, it's almost like she knows you’re in distress. She tries to brush it off, Vi is well aware she overthinks often. She continues to tidy up and put a few cups in the dishwasher.

You're almost to your destination. Your clothes are starting to get soggy. You keep moving at a steady pace. You stop at a four way intersection and hit the crossing button. This gave you a moment to catch your breath. You close your eyes and imagine for a moment the feeling of Vi’s warm arms around you.

I can do this, I'm almost there.

Suddenly a sports car comes speeding through the light and makes contact with a large puddle, created by a clogged street drain. The water splashed over you in one big wave. You gasped at how cold it was, your soggy clothes are now drenched. When you realize what has happened, it stuns you in your already vulnerable state. You can't help but freeze and start sobbing all over again.

You look back and the speeding car has disappeared. You realize the signal for the crosswalk is alerting and you quickly jog across the street. It's difficult, but you keep moving. Your body is starting to shake from the wind against your wet clothes. Luckily you can see her apartment building, it's only a few blocks away.

Vi was putting away a few random kitchen items when she heard frantic knocking. She pauses and walks over to the door. She unlocks the deadbolt and opens it to see her drenched, panicked, and clearly upset girlfriend. Vi’s eyes get wide at the sight of your dripping clothes and miserable state.

“Hey! What are you doing here?! Why are your clothes completely soaked?!” Vi questions while grabbing your hand and pulling you inside. You were at a loss for words, Vi started to remove your jacket and the hoodie. You assisted her with your pants and peeled them off your wet skin. Before Vi could gather your drenched garments, you promptly wrapped your arms around her neck and buried your face in her chest.

Vi stopped what she was doing and realized you might be having an episode. She engulfs you into her strong arms and whispers sweet words of reassurance in your ear.

“Everything's okay now, I’m here, I gotchu baby.”

You slow your breathing and attempt to gather yourself. Vi tilts your head up with her thumb under your chin. Your eyes meet hers while tears sting the corners of your eyes.

“Shhh…It's okay.” Vi repeats and kisses your face several times. She wipes away the tears and you attempt to swallow your emotions. Her hands cup your cheeks, warming your face. “Now, tell me what happened?” She asks, the calm tone in her voice makes you feel at a little more at ease. You take a moment and rub your eyes, trying to compose yourself long enough to describe your terrible evening.

“I-I was having an episode. I ha-haven't b-been sleeping and I couldn't stop crying. So I tried to come here but on my way a car sped through a huge puddle and d-drenched me.” You manage to stammer out an explanation.

“Awe, Cupcake…I'm so sorry.” Vi says softly, she kisses your forehead, “You’re going to catch a cold.” Vi remarks and tells you to get in the shower, she’ll figure out the rest. You do exactly as you're told, and make your way to the bathroom. She picks up your wet clothes and tosses them into the washing machine in a closet down the hall.

After removing the rest of your wet clothes, you step into the hot shower. It's probably best to rinse off any potential dirt and city grime out of your hair. Vi collects the rest of your clothes you left on the bathroom floor and starts the washing machine. The water warms your frigid skin and you can't help but let out a sigh of relief. The muscles in your arms start to relax, you drop your shoulders, everything is going to be okay.

When you turn off the shower and push the curtain to one side, you see a smiling Violet with a warm towel. She put a t-shirt and a clean pair of her boxers on the counter. She has changed into the same combination.

You can't help but smile back at her. While gently stepping out of the tub, Vi wraps the towel around your shoulders. She plants a peck on your cheek and you dry off.

"Thank you, Vi. I appreciate you so much." You say and meet her gaze. The large t-shirt is so comfortable, you slip on her boxers.

"I can't just let you get sick, and I can't let you feel like this either." She replies with sincerity. "I'm gonna make you some tea okay?" She suggests. You nod in response, your face starting to glow red. Vi takes off to the kitchen and you think to yourself how lucky you are to have such a lovely person taking care of you.

You trail behind her and sit on the couch. While the kettle is heating up to boil, Vi retrieves a soft, pink, blanket from the closet in the hallway. She drapes it around your body and it makes you giggle. Vi is being so attentive and sweet, it makes you feel special.

You space out a little watching the sitcom on TV. Vi returns with a hot cup of lavender tea, its aromatic and floral. The pink haired woman takes a seat next to you and wraps her arm around your shoulders. “How come you didn't just call me, hmm?” She questions with a raised eyebrow. You lean into her and take a sip of your tea. “I coulda picked you up, dummy.” Vi teases.

“I’m not sure. I mean, I’ve gotten soaked for you before and you've never complained.” You retort with a growing grin on your face.

Vi Chuckles, “Oh, so now we have jokes?” She sarcastically asks. Her face inching closer to yours, and your gaze was locked on her blue puppy eyes. You lift your hand to her cheek and caress the tattoo under her eye. Vi closes the gap between her mouth and yours, she smiles against your lips and you lean into her.

When you both part, you curl up next to her and continue enjoying your tea. You set the cup on the coffee table and kick your legs up over hers. Vi effortlessly pulls you closer so you're fully sitting in her lap. You lean your head on her shoulder. “Are you feeling better?” she asks while her arm slips around your waist. It felt like you could breathe again and your body felt light and airy.

She runs her fingers up the back of your neck and through your hair. Vi tugs at your damp roots lightly and it sends a shiver up your spine. “Y-yes, Thank you.” You answer, you can feel your voice fading away. Her fingertips trace lightly down your arm and your face flushes. You attempt to hide your expressions by burying your face into her shoulder.

Vi has this signature smirk she wears when she enjoys your reactions. She wraps her other arm around your legs and squeezes your thigh. An audible huff escapes your mouth and you wrap your arms around her neck.

“Awee, you’re so sweet.” She whispers in your ear. She gives your thigh another squeeze and your hand rakes through her hair. Violet's neck was begging for your lips and you caved in, planting soft kisses starting from behind her ear. Vi gets the hint, her rough fingers travel to your waist.

“Mhmm…Didn't know you had this on the agenda, cupcake.” She remarks, you pull away and lock eyes with her hazy irises. The pink tint across your face darkens as Vi hand cups your cheek. Paired with that stare that always brings you to your knees.

You are no longer in control of your thoughts, but why would you want to be? Your racing thoughts have not exactly been helpful. “Can I help you relax?” Violet asks against your lips. You nod and manage to say "yes", she then closes the gap between her lips and yours. Her tongue grazed your bottom lip and you allowed her access to your mouth.

She gently lowers you onto your back and climbs on top of you, her left hand tangles in your hair. She begins planting open mouthed kisses down your neck. Her free hand wanders to your chest, you take a handful of her t-shirt. Vi’s lips crash into yours once more and you softly whine into her mouth.

Your whole body melts to her touch. Vi begins to lift the cotton t-shirt you're wearing and you both break away to remove it eagerly. Vi places open mouth kisses on your jaw which gradually trail down your neck, then your collarbone, and before you know it her mouth found its way to your exposed nipple. You let out a few huffs and quiet moans while you squeeze her muscular arms.

“You okay sweetheart?” she asks, looking up at you with those cold blue eyes. You nod and she begins tugging at the waistband of the borrowed boxer shorts that barely hang on to your hip bones. It doesn't take much effort for you to shimmy yourself out and push them down to your knees.

Her hand traveled between your legs slowly. Small whimpers escape into Vi’s shoulder. “Mmm...just relax and let me take care of you.” She whispers in your ear while she slips a single finger between your folds. The sensation shocks your system when she makes slow, counterclockwise circles around your clit. As she increases the pace, you wrap your arms around her neck and rake your fingers through her pink hair. Moans break free from your lips and your stomach is in knots.

Vi is careful, and loving, it's all about you in this moment. She pauses her movements but before you can protest, she slides two fingers inside of you. “Vi…t-that feels s’good.” You manage to stammer. Vi’s signature smirk reappears again as she pumps her fingers in a rhythmic motion, speeding up over time. Her fingers curl in the best way, bumping against the right spot with each thrust.

"You're doing so well." Vi whispers in your ear.

It didn't take long for you to throw your head back and moan her name. One hand now squeezing the couch cushion and the other draped around her shoulder. Your hips buck underneath Vi as your inner walls tighten around her fingers. Your legs start to shake and suddenly you're seeing stars. You can't control the sounds that break free from your lips. You chant your girlfriend's name and she smiles as you ride out your release.

“mmm…That's my girl.” She praises as your chest heaves up and down. She kisses your forehead and slowly removes her hand from your entrance. She covers your face in kisses and you giggle softly. She assists you with pulling the boxers back up around your hips and finds your shirt.

As your breathing slows, she gets up and gets you a glass of water. You sit up and smile at her, taking the glass. “Can I get you anything?” She asks sweetly.

“Just you.” You answer and reach for her. She smiles and takes a seat next to you. You curl up with her and rest your head in her lap. “I’m so glad I came over." You say with a smile. Violet grabs your hand and laces her fingers with yours.

“Me too, I just wish you woulda called me.” Vi kisses the top of your head and stays glued to your hip for the rest of the night.

#vi x reader #arcane vi #arcane vi x reader #vi fanfic #arcane violet #vi #vi lol x reader #league of lesbians #arcane smut #vi lol

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master-sass-blast · 1 year

Text

Step By Step -Old Dogs and New Toys, Part Two.

Part One

Summary:

“That’s the problem!” Vi interjects, throwing up her hands. “Cait’s mom already thinks I’m this big, nasty burden on her daughter. If –if Cait has to get me the right clothes, and teach me how to dance, and eat, and talk, and drink, and everything, that’s only going to prove Mrs. Kiramann right. Plus, Cait’s up to her eyeballs in casework. I don’t want her to have to take extra time just to teach me the ropes. I just want to be able to show up, have everything down, and… and surprise her a little. And, well, you’re the only other person up here who doesn’t look at me like I just crawled out of a sewer grate–”

“I understand why you came to me,” Grayson assures her. “Can you make weekends work?”

“I’ll make it fit.”

or, alternatively, Grayson helps Vi prepare for the Snowdown Gala and lowkey-highkey adopts Vi.

Pairing(s): Grayson x Reader, implied Vi x Caitlyn.

Rating: G for fluff and worldbuilding.

Word count: 9.6k.

You’ve always said her precinct office is something of an archaeological exhibition.

She agrees, but she thinks it’s because of the elaborate, gilded gold and blue trim everywhere –around the door frames, the windows, along the baseboards and crown molding, even along the built-in shelves that boast a scant few personal touches that she’s added over the years (a few potted plants that seem to live off spite alone, books, a couple pictures of you and her over the decades, and a couple trophies from shooting competitions). It’s regalia at its finest; a shrine to Piltover’s abundance and the institutions funded by it.

You maintain, however, that it’s because of the countless coffee mugs, case files, and old newspapers with half-finished crosswords scattered everywhere. “It’s like walking through history,” you joked the first time she’d shown you her office –though that had been a cubicle, way back in the day, when she was just a Sergeant. “Judging by the number of coffee cups and how dark the stains are, I’m going to guess the last time you slept was some time last year.”

She’d laughed then, and she laughs thinking about the memory now.

Grayson’s never been the tidiest person; she’s not terrible, but keeping up with menial cleaning when she’s knee deep in bureaucratic headaches and attempted coups by the Undercity just takes too much energy most days.

She has an assistant, now that she’s Sheriff. Lana keeps track of memos and calls, schedules her meetings, and clears coffee cups and old newspapers from her desk without complaint. Still, even with Lana’s help, her office still happens to be something of a disaster zone. Such are the hazards of often being hip deep in any variety of figurative shit.

So, when Lana opens one of the double doors that separate her office from the outside vestibule and announces that Grayson has a visitor, only for Vi to walk in, Grayson’s momentarily grateful that her office doesn’t look too disastrous. She doesn’t peg Vi as the type to mind clutter, but still. Standards, and all that.

The gratitude, however, fritters away to guilt when she catches Vi openly grimacing at all the filigree and expensive accoutrement. Can’t say I blame her. Grayson swallows, then offers Lana a smile and thanks before her assistant closes the door. “It’s good to see you, Vi. How can I help you?”

Vi jams her hands in her pockets and rocks back on the heels of her worn boots. “I need a favor.”

Grayson pauses, then pretends to glance over some paperwork Lana had laid out on her desk that morning. “Is it your sister?”

“No. It’s me.” At Grayson’s wary glances, Vi holds up her hands in a reassuring gesture. “It’s not anything illegal. It’s that–” Vi snaps her fingers until the words come to her. “That snowfall party.”

Grayson blinks, then nods when she connects the dots. “The Snowdown Gala.” She sets the paperwork back on her desk, then checks her calendar. “That’s… at the start of next month.” Shit. That’s sooner than I thought. I need to make sure my tux still fits. “What about it?”

“I…” Vi swallows, throat flexing, then looks away. “I –I don’t know what to do for it.”

“...It can be a lot to take in,” Grayson agrees, trying to reassure her, when Vi doesn’t offer any additional information. She studies Vi for a moment, then leans forward and crosses her hands against her desk. “Not that I’m unwilling to help you, but I’m certain that Caitlyn would–”

Grayson grimaces, but says nothing. Unfortunately, she’s not wrong.

“Plus, Cait’s up to her eyeballs in casework,” Vi continues without waiting for Grayson’s prompting. “I don’t want her to have to take extra time just to teach me the ropes. I just want to be able to show up, have everything down, and… and surprise her a little.” She takes a moment to catch her breath, then continues explaining. “And, well, you’re the only other person up here who doesn’t look at me like I just crawled out of a sewer grate–”

“I understand why you came to me,” Grayson assures her. She leans back in her leather desk chair, considering. It could work, she reasons as she checks her mental calendar. There’s enough time for fittings and some dance lessons, provided it can wait for the weekend. “Can you make weekends work?”

“I’ll make it fit.”

Grayson nods and smiles. “Then my wife and I would be happy to help you.”

Vi’s eyebrows spike upwards. “You have a wife?”

“I do.” Grayson grins and gestures to the picture frames on the bookshelves, then grabs a pad of paper and writes down her address while Vi examines them. “We’ve been married for… oh, nearly thirty years now. And we’ve known each other closer to forty.”

“Damn.” Vi nods, approving, then offers Grayson a crooked grin. “You scored.”

She laughs. “That I did.” She tears off the piece of paper and holds it out to Vi. “We’ll start with dance lessons, that way you can practice during the coming weeks. That is my personal address, so I appreciate your discretion.”

Vi nods, expression solemn, and tucks the paper into the pocket of her red jacket. “What about suits and shit?”

“I’ll have to schedule an appointment for a fitting consultation,” Grayson says as she makes a note to do just that. “But I should have something booked by next week.”

“‘Consultation?’” Vi’s face scrunches up. “What, we can’t just… I don’t know, go and buy one?”

Grayson suppresses a smile. “It’s not that simple, no. Shall I see you around one, on Saturday?”

“Sure.” Vi nods, then turns and walks towards the doors. She stops halfway and turns around again. “Uh, Grayson?” When she raises her eyebrows in question, the younger woman ducks her head, then nods. “Thank you.”

Grayson smiles and nods in return. “It’s my pleasure.”

…

There’s a knock on the door at a quarter past one on Saturday.

Vi grimaces when Grayson opens the door. “Sorry for being late. Got turned around a couple times.”

“No apology necessary.” Grayson ushers Vi inside, then closes and locks the door behind her. “I’m sorry for not giving you better directions.”

Her apology goes completely over Vi’s head; the younger woman is too distracted by the inside of Grayson’s home. Vi pivots slowly, staring at the decor, plush furniture, and various paintings decorating the walls. “You live here?”

“For nearly forty years.” She only got this place to make a life with you, after all. Grayson motions for Vi to follow her, then starts walking deeper into the house once she’s got Vi’s attention. “We wanted something small.”

Vi lets out a quiet, shocked laugh behind her. “‘Small.’”

Grayson grimaces, having caught her faux pas too late. “Relatively speaking.”

You’re in the back of the house, narrowing down record choices. You look up when Grayson walks into the room, then smile warmly when Vi follows. “Oh, good. I was worried you got lost.” You set the small stack of vinyls down, walk towards the two of them, then hold out your hand and introduce yourself. “You must be Violet. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Vi returns the handshake with a wary smile. “Everyone just calls me ‘Vi.’ And I’m sure the Sheriff has a few opinions about me.”

“Nothing negative, I promise.” You glance at Grayson, then wink teasingly before looking back at Vi. “Maybe a little exhausted at times, but that’s probably the caffeine withdrawals talking.”

“There’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Grayson fires back with a smirk.

You laugh, then go back to your collection of records. “So, Vi, how much experience do you have with dancing?”

“Uh…”

You bite back a smile when Vi’s voice trails off, then put a few records back on the shelf. “We’re starting from scratch, then.”

Vi’s shoulders hunch up. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no, not at all!” You wave one hand, then pull a record out of its protective paper covering and place it on the gramophone. “It’s not a problem. We’ll just start with learning how to pick out rhythm in a song.”

Grayson peers over your shoulder. “Oh, ‘River’s Waltz.’ Good choice.”

“Well, I figured a waltz would be best,” you explain as you move the gramophone arm and set the needle in place. “They always play one at the gala, and it’s an easier dance to pick up.” You turn the gramophone on, then turn to Vi once the sound of melodious strings and horns starts flowing from the speaker. “Alright, so what you’re listening for is the beat of the song. That’s the measure you’ll use to pace yourself during the dance. All waltzes are in three-four time counts.” You start clapping your hands along to the beat to illustrate your point. “Each measure in music has four counts, but a three-four count only uses three beats, then leaves the fourth as a rest –so, one, two, three, rest. One, two, three, rest.”

Vi nods, head bobbing in time with your counts. “I can kinda feel it with how the music flows.”

“Good! Very good!” You motion for her to step into the space and have her stand next to you on the rug. “So, right now, we’re just going to get you familiar with feeling that beat. Can you feel the emphasis on the first beat of every measure?”

“A little.”

Grayson watches you for a moment with a soft smile. Such a natural.

But then, that’s why you’re the Professor and she’s the Sheriff.

She picks up a book and settles in her arm chair after a couple minutes. The last thing she wants to do is make Vi uncomfortable with her staring. (Though, if she happens to steal a glance every now and then and smile at your enthusiasm, or Vi’s earnest attempts, that’s between herself and her novel.)

…

By the time the day’s lesson concludes, Vi’s advanced from finding the rhythm of a song to practicing a simple waltz.

“You’re doing well,” you assure her when Vi seems discouraged. “You’re already good on your feet. Just keep practicing and you’ll have it down handily before the gala.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” You pluck a record from your extensive collection, then hand it over to Vi. “This is the Snowflake Waltz. It was one of the most popular pieces written at the height of the jazz movement. It’s played every year at the Snowdown Gala as part of tradition. The steps we worked on today will work fine with the song.”

“Right.” Vi nods, looking somewhat shell shocked. She stares down at the record case, eyes wide, then swallows hard and nods again. “Right.”

“You’re going to be fine.” You place one hand on her shoulder and smile warmly. “Look, between the two of us, if Gray could learn how to dance, then you’ll be a master by the time of the gala.”

“Slander,” Grayson fires back with a grin. “I was more than adequate at the start.”

You glance at her, then back to Vi and shake your head before laughing. “You’ll be just fine. I promise.”

“If you say so.”

“You will,” Grayson agrees with a reassuring smile. She sets her book on the coffee table, then stands with a grunt. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the trolley.”

Vi blinks rapidly. “Oh –no, it’s fine. I can –thank you, but I–”

“It’s alright. Call it safety in numbers.”

Understanding settles over Vi’s features, followed by exhausted frustration. “Yeah. Thanks, uh, Sherriff.”

She chuckles as she heads towards the front door to grab her coat. “Grayson is fine, dear.”

…

The walk down to the trolley is brisk. Even with the sun still hanging in the cloudless sky, the late Autumn wind cuts through everything in its path.

Grayson winces when a particularly biting breeze tries to snake under the collar of her coat. “How is your sister?”

“She’s… coping,” Vi answers with a pained twist of her lips. Despite wearing significantly fewer layers, the younger woman seems practically unaffected by the chill; the gifts of youth, perhaps, or just standard Zaunite hardiness. “She’s gotten good marks at the Academy this term.”

“Good. Give her my congratulations.”

“Yeah –sure. Thanks.” Vi sidesteps a Piltovan man in a light gray suit that nearly bowls her over. She scowls and jams her hands in her pockets. “Asshole.”

Grayson glares over her shoulder at the man –not that he notices, since his back is to them both–then carefully places one hand on Vi’s shoulder. “And how are you?”

“I’m fine,” Vi answers quickly, automatically.

She doesn’t buy that, but a frigid stroll to the trolley is hardly the time or place to dig into one’s psychological well-being. Grayson files the topic away for later, then moves on. “I’ve scheduled an appointment for a tuxedo fitting this coming Saturday at nine in the morning.” She nearly gives Vi the address, then reconsiders. “Perhaps I could meet you at the trolley station around half past eight?” She watches as Vi tenses, chafing against the notion of having an escort (an Enforcer escort), then squeeze’s Vi’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I trust you. But you know how things are up here. I’d rather you not get in trouble over nothing.”

Vi scowls, nostrils flaring in irritation and disgust. “Yeah.” She glares at the ground for a few moments, then cracks her neck before asking. “Half past eight?”

“I think that would be best, yes.”

Vi works her jaw, then nods once. “Alright. Half past eight on Saturday it is.”

…

Progress Haberdashery is nestled into a towering, multi-story, sandstone behemoth in Piltover’s fashion district. Located on the first floor on the building’s front face, the window that boasts the shop’s name in elegant, swirling gold script seems like every other shop alongside it. If you aren’t looking for it, it’s easy to pass by.

Grayson knows the shop’s location by heart; she’s been a patron of the haberdashery for decades now, after all.

Agatha Wainwright is just as Grayson remembers her –short, stocky, with large, thick, round-rimmed glasses that give her an owlish appearance. Her short, steel-colored hair is neatly styled and smoothed down with pommade, and she has a measuring tape draped over the back of her neck and a pencil tucked behind one ear. She’s scribbling on a notepad, hunched over the desk behind the front counter when Grayson ushers Vi inside, but she lifts her head and turns around when the bell for the front door rings. “Grayson!” She perks up and smiles, then bustles out from behind the front counter.

Grayson grins easily, then accepts Agatha’s hearty handshake. “It’s been too long, old friend.” She glances over at Vi –who’s distracted, unsubtly gawping at the displayed suits, accessories, and photos–then gestures at the younger woman. “This is Vi. She’ll be needing a tux fitting today for the Snowdown Gala. Vi, this is Agatha Wainwright.”

Vi starts at the mention of her name, then recovers and shakes Agatha’s hand. “Hey. Uh, nice to meet you.”

The corner of Agatha’s mouth ticks up as she nods in return. “Glad to have you. Come on back with me.” She motions for Vi and Grayson to follow her, then turns on one heel and motors towards the back of the shop. “Remind me, Gray, the Snowdown Gala is considered black tie?”

“Technically black tie creative,” Grayson replies, lengthening her stride to keep up with Agatha’s quick clip.

“Oh, good.” She half turns, still walking, and gestures loosely at Vi. “I wasn’t liking black for her. That gives us options!”

“I, uh–” Vi pauses to clear her throat. “I thought the rule was ‘black looks good on everyone.’”

“Yes and no.” Agatha turns on the light for one of her fitting rooms, then ushers Vi and Grayson inside. “Yes, black is a neutral color, which means you can pair it with any other color and it won’t clash. Yes, a lot of people wear it because that means it won’t clash with your hair, or eyes, or accessories. It’s an easy color to style with. But when you get into the chromatic value system–”

Grayson smirks teasingly when Vi shoots her a slow, wide-eyed look. “You just had to get her started.”

“Fuck off,” Agatha fires back with a grin. She rolls her eyes when Grayson chuckles, then returns her attention to Vi. “In fashion, there’s a whole system of color theory that relates to a person’s skin tone. It focuses on what colors look most flattering with which skin tones and undertones. And it’s not just about hue, but also the boldness of the color. Some people can wear really bright, bold colors, and they look absolutely wonderful in them. Some people, on the other hand, either wash out or get all shadowy in the face when they wear bolder colors.” She gestures to her own face to demonstrate. “Especially around the mouth and eyes, which ages them. And black, even though it is a neutral color, is a bold color. So, for people with such skin tones, more muted shades of gray are often more flattering.” She clasps her hands together, waits until Vi nods (albeit uncertainly), then continues. “So, in your case, just at a glance–” she gestures up and down Vi “–my immediate instinct is that black would probably look harsh on you, and that a dark gray would likely suit you better. Although…” She leans back on her heels, puts her hands on her hips, then glances at Grayson. “You said she was from the Fissure?”

“I grew up in the Lanes, yeah,” Vi answers, somewhat curt.

Agatha purses her lips, then sighs. “Black might be better, then. It’s more traditional.”

Vi frowns, upper lip curling in confusion and frustration. “I thought you just said black wasn’t a good choice.”

“If we’re working strictly off what colors best flatter you, then no, probably not,” Agatha agrees. “But it’s the most traditional choice; even though it’s black tie creative, a lot of people are still going to be in black tuxedos. A lot of people are still going to expect others to wear black tuxedos.”

“It might help deflect unwanted criticism,” Grayson adds when Vi scowls. “Think of it as a precautionary measure.”

“Do you really believe that?” Vi arches one eyebrow, then shakes her head and laughs bitterly when both Grayson and Agatha hesitate. “Let’s be realistic. The color of my damn suit isn’t going to do shit. They’ll just find something else to gossip about.” She smirks, frustrated, then gestures at herself. “I mean, it’s not like they’re lacking for choices.”

Grayson remains silent. There’s not much else to say.

“The only person I care about in all of this is my girlfriend,” Vi continues, facing Agatha. “The only reason I’m doing any of this is for her. All I care about is looking good for her and making her feel like she’s the only woman in the room that matters. Fuck tradition, pick the colors that look best.”

Agatha smiles slowly and nods. “I can respect that.” She directs Vi to stand on a wooden podium surrounded by mirrors. “First, let’s get your measurements.”

…

It starts off simply enough.

Granted, measurements aren’t generally the hard part (relatively speaking). Vi holds still, cooperates, even chats amiably with Agatha.

“Got a lot of bulk in the shoulders,” Agatha comments while scribbling on a yellow notepad. “That’ll make taking in the waist… interesting.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Vi asks, glancing between Grayson and Agatha.

Agatha shrugs. “Does your girlfriend think it’s a bad thing?”

Grayson smothers a chuckle when Vi smirks. “It just means the tailoring will be a more involved process.”

“But I am a professional,” Agatha assures Vi as she crouches to measure Vi’s inseam. “And it won’t be the hardest job I’ve ever done. You have very nice lines, by the way. Have you considered modeling?”

Vi goes wide-eyed, then looks over at Grayson. “Uh…”

Grayson merely smiles and waves one hand.

And then there’s choosing between tuxedos.

“They look the same,” Vi says with a shrug when Agatha lays out five different, dark gray sets of tuxedos, slacks, and vests.

“It might be easier to see the difference when you have them on,” Agatha assures the younger woman.

Vi, in fact, does not see the difference.

“They still look the same,” she declares after trying on the fourth suit. “I mean, they look fine, but they’re all just gray, right? I don’t know, why not…” She twists, then points at a mannequin dressed in a pinstripe gray suit. “Why not something like that? The stripes look cool.”

“Oh.” Agatha looks at the mannequin, then back at Vi. “Well, we can look at something with a faint pinstripe, if you want, but that particular one is a suit, not a tuxedo.”

Vi blinks, expression blank. “...Aren’t they the same thing?”

Agatha blinks, then turns on one heel and picks up the fifth tux. “I’m going to pretend she didn’t say that.”

“Don’t torture the poor kid,” Grayson admonishes the seamstress when Vi shoots her a panicked look. “The easiest difference to spot is the cut of the lapels. You see here, how the buttons come up higher?” She gestures to the suit on the mannequin and waits until Vi nods. “Now, look at what you’re wearing.” She traces the line of the left lapel with one finger. “This section is larger and angled differently from a standard suit, see?”

“There’s also a difference in the fabric,” Agatha adds as she takes the fifth option out of its protective plastic covering. “The lapels and pocket trim are made from satin, and the buttons are covered in satin as well.”

“And that… matters?” Vi asks, face scrunching up in confusion. She glances between Grayson and Agatha when the two older women nod, then sighs heavily and sets her shoulders resolutely. “Alright.”

Vi opts to let Grayson and Agatha pick the most flattering tuxedo (in terms of color, since Vi’s take is that all the tuxedos are “gray”). “Sweet.” Vi starts to shrug the tuxedo jacket off. “Is that it?”

“Uh–” Agatha goes a little wide-eyed and gets the jacket back on Vi’s shoulders. “Not quite. We need to do some pinning for alterations.”

Vi frowns, confused, and glances between her own reflection and Agatha. “It looks fine, I promise.”

“It will look much better tailored to you,” Grayson interjects. “Trust me.”

Vi sighs again, then straightens up and lifts her chin. “Okay.”

And then, part way through deciding what alterations need to be made, Agatha has a realization. “Ooh, it’s black tie creative! We can play with color!” She looks up from Vi where she’s adjusting the length of the slacks. “What color dress is your girlfriend wearing?”

“Uh…” Vi looks towards the ceiling, then shrugs. “I think she said blue?”

“...Okay.” Agatha waves one hand. “Powder blue? Royal blue? Progress blue?”

“...There’s a difference?”

“We’ll have a color sample the next time we come in,” Grayson interjects when Agatha pinches the bridge of her nose.

Eventually, the two of them leave in one piece, but Vi looks almost haggard.

Grayson takes one look at the younger woman, then smiles sympathetically and clasps Vi’s shoulder with one hand. “Would you like to get something to eat? It’d be my treat.”

Vi balks. “I wouldn’t have the money to pay you back, most likely.”

The response activates her mind’s eye; it’s a dim, but still visible memory of one of the first times she asked you out for coffee. She hums and slows her pace as she reflects. “You know, my wife said something similar to me the first time I asked her out for coffee.”

Vi glances up at Grayson –then, the penny drops and she does a double-take. “Is she from Zaun?”

“Yes,” Grayson says with a nod. “Her family lived on the Entresol level.” She stops and squeezes Vi’s shoulder. “I should clarify: I would like to spend some time with you outside of the fitting. That’s why I offered up lunch. If you’d rather not, you won’t hurt my feelings by saying so.”

Vi nods slowly, looking away while she mulls it over. After a bit, she looks back at Grayson and raises one eyebrow. “Nowhere too fancy?”

Grayson chuckles and grins. “I think I know a place you’ll like just fine.”

…

She takes the Vi out to the fringes of Piltover, where the City of Progress starts to blend into the Promenade levels of Zaun. Things aren’t near as modernized out here. The buildings are smaller, more humble establishments made out of white-washed bricks and granite. The roofs are still blue, but the edges and various trimmings aren’t capped in gold. The roads are rougher, not quite so neatly tended to as in the city’s main districts.

She takes Vi through a marketplace, stopping as Vi gets distracted to tell the young woman about what the various stalls boast. She buys a bag of dried mango for them to share, then guides Vi down a side street to a shop where the front door is painted green.

Cheriqui’s has been around since her parents were children. She can still remember her grandmother and mother bringing her here for traditional tea services and Farsi practice on Saturday afternoons.

Grayson inhales deeply as she sets foot inside the deli. She’s greeted by a veritable perfume of spices –saffron, cumin, garlic, ginger, cloves. She’s carried back to memories of home –of her family working in the kitchen–and she smiles.

“Wow.” Vi gawks, staring at the deli case of breads and pastries, the bins of bulk spices along the wall next to the deli case, and the shelves of various foreign goods not typically found at “traditional” Piltovan markets. She rolls up on the balls of her feet, then lets out a low whistle at the sight of meat roasting on vertical spits and the grills in the kitchen behind the deli case. “Damn.”

Grayson ushers her towards the deli case. “How’s your tolerance for spicy food?”

Vi shrugs. “Everyone blasts their food with hot sauce in the Lanes. It’s the only way it tastes like anything.”

Grayson nods, then straightens up when a portly man with tan skin and a thick, silvering mustache approaches the deli case.

“Grayson.” The man raises one bushy eyebrow teasingly. “And here I’d thought you’d forgotten us.”

“I’d be hard pressed to forget you and your family, Abdul,” she replies, slipping into easy Farsi. She introduces Vi and Abdul to one another, then returns her focus to Abdul. “We’re here for lunch. This is Vi’s first time trying Persian cuisine.”

Abdul nods, expression lifting in understanding before settling into serious contemplation. “How’s her tolerance for heat?”

“She says it’s good.”

Abdul shoots a wayward glance at Vi, clearly skeptical, then holds up one finger before bustling back into the kitchen. He returns a few moments later and sets a tray with little cups of soup and a plate with small pieces of meat and bread atop the deli case. “Try first,” he explains to Vi in heavily accented English, “and decide how well you tolerate it, okay?”

“Right.” Vi stares at the tray, then looks over at Grayson. “What am I working with here?”

“It’s traditional Persian food,” Grayson explains, gesturing to the tray. “It’s a bit of a melting pot; many countries fall into the fold of Persian culture, so there are many regional cuisines. These–” she gestures to two of the soup cups “–are adasi, or lentil soups. The yellow one is milder, and the red one will be spicier. This one–” she gestures to the third cup “–is aush, or a thick noodle soup.” She switches her attention to Abdul. “What’s today’s recipe?”

“Chicken and barley noodles with seasonal vegetables.”

“It’s good.” Vi nods along, already halfway through the cup of yellow adasi. “What’s the meat on the plate?”

“Lamb,” Grayson answers after checking with Abdul. “But they have goat and chicken as well, if you prefer.”

“Oh, I’m not picky.” Vi lifts the sample dish of red adasi and smiles at Abdul. “This is good!”

Abdul beams, then nods his head in appreciation. “Thank you.”

There’s a commotion in the kitchen –the sound of quiet chatter, followed by dishware clacking. Then, footsteps approach. One of Abdul’s sons-in-law, Badir, appears with a small dish of shawarma style chicken. He places the dish atop the deli case, on the tray with the other samples. “She should try shawarma.”

“One moment!” A few seconds later, Badir’s wife –a short woman named Shohreh—jogs out of the kitchen with a small plate of pickled and fresh vegetables. “You forgot the toppings, silly,” she admonishes her husband. She rolls onto the balls of her feet to set the plate on the crowded tray, then smiles at Vi. “You take the bread,” she explains in English, holding up her hand as an example, “and then you add the meat, and then the vegetables. There’s pickled onion and cucumber, sauteed spinach, and tomatoes.”

Vi nods along as she follows the instructions, then folds the flatbread around the meat and vegetables and crams a decent bite into her mouth. She chews, and then her eyes roll back in her head. She lets out a pleased groan. “Oh man.” She holds the back of her hand over her mouth, then continues once she’s swallowed. “I could eat this every day.”

Grayson finds herself smiling along when Abdul, Shohreh, and Badir all grin.

There’s more noise from the kitchen –and then Abdul’s youngest, a son named Hashem, pokes his head around the corner. “Do you want to try a goat eye?”

“For shame!” Shohreh hisses and swats at her younger brother while scolding him in Farsi. “Don’t gross her out. Have some sense!”

“Wait, like, actual goat eyes?” Vi’s eyebrows spike towards her hairline. She looks at Grayson. “They have those?”

“The practice is to use the whole animal –or as much as possible, at least,” Grayson explains. “So, when you have the head, you can roast it whole, then break it down afterwards. Jowl meat, tongue, and the brains are all fair game. The eyes are edible, but they’re not necessarily… common ingredients, as it were.”

“Huh.” Vi mulls it over, then nods and turns back to the counter. “Yeah, sure.”

Abdul, Badir, Shohreh, and Hashem all freeze.

Abdul recovers first; he blinks rapidly, then frowns cautiously. “Are –are you sure?”

Vi shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Hashem laughs and sticks his tongue out at his sister, only to get shooed and berated back into the kitchen. He returns a couple moments later, though, with a roasted, cloudy, glistening eye and still attached, cooked through ocular muscles on a small plate.

“It should have a meaty flavor,” Grayson says as Vi gives the eye a once over.

“Yeah, it's the same with fish,” Vi reasons. “Tastes like what it came from.” And, with that, she plucks the eye up with her fingers and pops it into her mouth. She chews, nods, and grunts with approval. “‘S pretty good!”

Grayson chuckles, then shares a shrug with a slightly stunned Abdul.

…

They wind up in the corner of the deli, sitting at a table clad in a fine, white linen tablecloth.

They start with some yellow lentil aush, taftun bread, finely sliced lamb seasoned with spices, and a side plate of fresh and pickled vegetables. Then, Badir comes out with shawarma style chicken and a small dish of borani for Vi to try. Another family member follows a few moments later with a dish of savory saffron rice. A few minutes later, Shohreh comes out with two cups of fragrant mint tea.

“You’re going to have to roll me out of here,” Vi jokes. She follows Grayson’s lead, loading up a piece of taftun with some shawarma chicken, greens, and borani as a sauce, then folds the bread around her fillings of choice and bites down. She groans, nods, then chews and swallows before saying, “Janna, this is fucking good. I gotta tell Cait about this place.”

Grayson swallows, then chuckles. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’d eat this for the rest of my life, if I could,” Vi says, unabashedly earnest. She takes a sip of her tea, then asks, “You’ve brought your wife here, yeah?”

“Many times,” Grayson answers with a nod. “She met my mother and grandmother here, and we’ve been here on several dates.”

“Oh, shit.” Vi glances at the reversed lettering on the front window, then frowns, confused. “Is this your family’s place?”

“No, no.” Grayson waves one hand dismissively. “No, the Cheriquis are just old family friends. My mother and her mother used to bring me here for tea and lessons in Farsi every week –to keep me connected with our culture.”

“Oh, okay.” Vi nods, mulling the information over. Then, she laughs and smirks. “Did your lady ever take you to Jericho’s?”

Grayson laughs and nods. “That she did.” She leans back in her seat and shakes her head. “It was… quite illuminating.”

“I bet,” Vi laughs. “Did you get sick after?”

“Like a dog,” Grayson answers with a grin.

Vi cackles and shakes her head. “I bet. You gotta grow up with that shit, or it just goes right through you.”

“You aren’t kidding.” Grayson smirks ruefully, then shakes her head when Vi laughs again. “She took good care of me while I was sick. And it was a good experience, in sum. It was… eye-opening.”

“Yeah.” Vi leans back in her seat. She watches Grayson for a long moment, drumming her fingers against her thigh, then asks, “Was that your first time in the Lanes?”

“It was,” Grayson answers with a nod. This was bound to come up eventually. “It was my first time in Zaun, actually. I’d only been on patrol in the Piltovan shopping district before then.”

Vi’s jaw tightens. “Why’d you become an Enforcer?”

The venom dripping from the word “Enforcer” is palpable, but Grayson keeps her expression neutral. “To be honest, it was a way out.” She shifts her gaze to look out the window, towards the shoppers passing the deli by. “My family…” She grimaces, then lets out a tired laugh. “They were planning on having me marry well. Do all the things that daughters traditionally do.” She looks down at the table, gaze scanning the fine texture of the tablecloth. “My father hadn’t come around by the time I was eighteen, so I enrolled in the law enforcement academy.”

“...Did your father disown you?”

“No. However, things weren’t exactly happy for a long time.”

Vi nods, expression solemn. “Did you get what you wanted, in the end?”

“I did.” Grayson nods and smiles. “I met my wife, married her, had a life with her, a career… I don’t think I could ask for more.”

“So, your dad came around?”

She shrugs and chuckles faintly. “More like my mother put her foot down.” She grimaces, then sighs. “I don’t think their marriage ever really recovered.”

“Shit.” Vi shifts in her seat. “Sorry.”

“It’s old history,” Grayson assures her with a wave of her hand. She sits forward in her seat and starts filling her plate with rice and lamb. “And, once I was old enough to know better, I stopped worrying about what my father thought.” She meets Vi’s gaze and smiles ruefully. “Some people just aren’t worth the stress.”

Vi shrugs, then loads another piece of taftun with chicken and lamb. “What’d your mom think of your wife?”

“Oh, she adored her,” Grayson replies without hesitation. “I think my mother liked her more than she liked me.”

Vi laughs, but it trails off into a strained sigh. She spoons more borani onto her plate, then mutters, “I don’t think I’ll ever have that problem with Cait’s mom.”

Grayson goes still. She considers for a moment, then reaches across the table and places one hand over Vi’s. “For what it’s worth…” She waits until Vi looks at her, then smiles reassuringly. “Her father likes you.”

Vi’s face scrunches up. “How would you know?”

“Word gets around. Official functions, that sort of thing. And everyone on the council is a massive gossip.” She retracts her hand, but when Vi’s despondent, disbelieving expression doesn’t lift, she adds, “Besides, it’s clear that Caitlyn adores you.”

Vi’s face goes as pink as her hair. She ducks her head briefly, then grins, crooked and bright. “Yeah. Cupcake’s really something.”

‘Cupcake?’ She quickly bites back a grin, but still makes a mental note to tell you about it later. That is precious–

“How is everything?”

Grayson looks up, then bites back an amused smirk when she sees Abdul approaching the table with yet another plate in hand.

“It’s amazing,” Vi gushes. “At this rate, I might just move in.” She takes note of the plate, then leans forward and cranes her neck. “What’s that?”

“Goat kebabs.” Abdul lowers the plate so Vi can see. “Would you like to–”

Vi nods and starts moving plates and bowls to make room on the table. “Bring it on!”

Grayson helps make space, then waves to Abdul as he heads back to the counter. “Alright, so there’s an easy way to get the meat and vegetables off the skewer. Hold the kebab on one end–” She picks one up to demonstrate. “And then you take your fork and push from the base so everything falls on your plate.”

“Right.” Vi mimics her, then stabs a piece of meat and grilled squash with her fork before shoving the food into her mouth. She lets out a satisfied sigh and slumps back in her seat.

Grayson grins. “Good?” She chuckles when Vi lets out an enthusiastic groan, then adds some pickled vegetables and onions to her plate.

“I hope your wife knows you’re here, Grayson.”

Grayson turns in her seat, then smiles when she sees a squat, white haired woman clad in a flowing skirt and royal blue blouse with gold embroidery shuffling over to their table. “Aunt Roshie.” She stands, steps around the end of the table, and greets the elderly woman with a kiss on each cheek. “It’s so good to see you. How are you?”

Despite being nearly ninety, Roshanak Cheriqui’s dark eyes are still clear and bright. “It’s good to see you, too, kid. And I’d be a hell of a lot better if people stopped asking me how I am. It’s the only thing anyone asks you when you’re my age! It’s boring!”

Grayson chuckles, then turns and gestures to Vi. “This is Vi. I was helping her with a tux fitting for the Snowdown Gala today, and I thought it’d be nice to bring her here for lunch. Vi,” she says, switching to English, “this is Roshanak Cheriqui. She opened this place with her husband.”

Vi glances between them, then blinks a few times before standing. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Cheriqui,” she says, holding out one hand.

Roshanak shakes Vi’s hand, but scoffs all the same. “Everyone knows me as Aunt Roshie,” she insists in heavily accented English. She clasps Vi’s hand and pats the back of it warmly. “You are enjoying lunch, yes?”

“Oh –it’s amazing,” Vi confirms with an enthusiastic nod of her head. “Everything tastes incredible.”

Roshanak beams, eyes crinkling around the corners. “Good!” Then, she glances at Grayson before leaning towards Vi and smiling conspiratorially. “You know, I have known Grayson since she was this big.” She gestures to her knee. “She used to come here every Saturday with Mahshid and Nasrin for our traditional tea service.”

“Yeah.” Vi nods. “She told me about that.”

“Did she tell you that she hated the dresses her mother made her wear?”

Grayson sighs and places one hand on the back of her chair to steady herself. “Aunt Roshie, I don’t think we need to–”

“One time,” Roshanak continues, undeterred, “when she was three, Grayson decided that she had enough–”

“I don’t think Vi needs to–”

“–and she got halfway out of her dress at the table before her mother stopped her.”

Vi presses her lips together and nods, though she can’t quite stop the slight snort that escapes her.

“You didn’t stop there, either.” Roshanak grins, entirely amused, up at Grayson. “Once you were older, you kept trying to sneak your tights off and get rid of them in the bathroom trash.”

Grayson sighs, resigned, and grumbles under her breath in Farsi, “They were itchy and terrible.”

“So you kept saying.” Roshanak winks at Vi, then faces Grayson. “What is it about my deli that turned you into a stripper?”

Grayson stares down at the elderly woman (who looks like the cat that caught the canary). She can feel her eyes bugging out; if you were here, she knows you’d be falling over in gleeful laughter.

Vi, to her credit, is far better versed in stoicism. She coughs quickly and presses the back of her hand over her mouth. Her shoulders and chest jump in jerky movements, but otherwise she stays composed.

Apparently satisfied with the carnage she’s wrought, Roshanak turns back to Vi. “You come back anytime you want, okay?” Once Vi nods and promises that she’ll return, Roshanak turns to Grayson and pats her arm. “As for you, bring your wife here, soon. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her.”

Grayson briefly clasps the elderly woman’s shoulder as Roshanak starts to shuffle off. “Yes, Aunt Roshie.”

“And keep your clothes on!”

Grayson closes her eyes, inhales deeply, then lets out a ragged sigh. Decades of service to the city and devotion to my wife, but that’s going to be my legacy, isn’t it? She opens her eyes, then points at a red-faced, silently snickering Vi. “Not one word.”

Vi holds up her hands in a placating gesture, then sits when Grayson does. She giggles a little, takes a long drink of mint tea, then asks, “So… Butch from the start?”

“Decidedly.” Grayson shakes her head, then drinks some tea to soothe herself. “You couldn’t move in those damn dresses. I would’ve given my left eye for a pair of trousers.” She takes another sip of tea, then adds, “I cut my own hair when I was ten.”

“No shit.” Vi cocks her head to one side, like she’s trying to envision it. “Was it long?”

“It was down to my fucking ass. It took ages to brush and braid! It was completely impractical!”

“So, you just–” Vi mimes a pair of scissors with her fingers “–had at it?”

She nods. “I took my mother’s sewing scissors, snuck into the upstairs bathroom, and started cutting everything until it was above my ears.”

“Oh, I bet that looked great,” Vi teases with a grin.

“It looked terrible,” Grayson admits with a laugh. “I think I made my mother cry. She loved styling my hair when I was a young girl.”

Vi nods, then smirks. “I tried my first side shave when I was thirteen.”

“Oh, really? How’d that go?”

Vi laughs and shakes her head. “Well, I didn’t know to cut the part I wanted shaved first–”

“Uh-oh,” Grayson interjects with a grin.

“Yeah. And, to make things worse, the clippers I were using were real fucking old, so they kept dying, like, every five minutes!”

Grayson chuckles. “Oh, great.”

Vi snorts, then shakes her head. “Vander caught me halfway through. The entire left side of my head looked like it’d gotten caught in a blender, the sink was full of hair–” She cuts herself off with a laugh. “Vander helped me finish the job, in the end. It didn’t look half bad.”

Grayson nods and chuckles. Then, she lifts her cup and holds it towards Vi. “To unconventional style choices.”

Vi grins, then lifts her cup and lightly taps it against Grayson’s.

…

They finish lunch with saffron ice cream and bamie –deep fried dough soaked in sugar syrup. Once they’re done eating, Grayson leaves a semi-comatose Vi at the table and heads to the deli case to pay the tab.

“No, no.” Abdul holds up one hand and shakes his head. “I’m not going to charge you for what we brought out to you of our own accord. It’s dishonest business.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” she argues back in Farsi, “but we nearly ate the whole menu. It’s not reasonable–”

“As the person in charge of the business, I think I get to decide what’s reasonable.”

Grayson levels him with a flat look. “We both know that your wife decides what’s reasonable. If she didn’t, you’d still have those ridiculous sideburns.”

“They were perfectly stylish! Besides, Esther isn’t here, so that leaves me.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure that leaves your daughter.”

“Well, she isn’t part of this conversation.”

Grayson raises one eyebrow, then leans to the side so she can see into the kitchen. “Shohreh!” she shouts. “Come talk some sense into your father!”

“What?” Shohreh’s voice echoes out of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Abdul shouts back. “Ignore this poor, senile old woman.” He grins when Grayson glares playfully at him. “She has dementia! She’s imagining things!”

“I’m not imagining those ugly-ass loafers you promised Esther you’d get rid of.”

Abdul purses his lips together, then shuffles closer to the deli case to better block any view of his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She smirks. “If you don’t want your wife to know what I’m talking about, let me pay the tab.”

Abdul places one hand over his heart and feigns a gasp. “Blackmail? From the Sheriff?”

“If we’re talking misconduct, what you’re doing could technically be construed as a bribe–”

“Oh, enough, both of you.” Roshanak shuffles to the front and fixes both of them with a stern, matronly glare. “I could hear you two from the pantry. Aren’t you two too old to be bickering like children?”

“Sorry, mama.”

“Sorry, Aunt Roshie.”

Roshanak purses her thin lips as she looks between the two of them –apparently none too satisfied with their unrepentant expressions–then scoffs and waves one hand. “Brats, the both of you. And as the co-founder of this establishment–” she turns her focus to Grayson alone “–I say our hospitality is ours to give.”

Grayson relents with a sigh (and makes a mental note to put what’s left of the tab in the tips jar Hashem has out for his Academy fund). “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

Roshanak nods, then sets a pale yellow, square box on the counter with the family name in dark green on the side. “And these are for your wife.”

Grayson peeks through the cellophane window on top of the box –more bamie and baklava–and smiles. “Thank you. She’ll enjoy these.” She considers, then says, “But I am paying for these.”

Roshanak shakes her head. “No–”

“She would want me to,” Grayson insists –because you would. She smiles when Roshanak relents with a sigh and a wave of her hand, then turns back to Abdul. “Now, what does this leave us at?”

…

She walks Vi back to the trolley, then takes a longer route home. It does a world of good –if only because she’s less likely to pass out on the couch from the sheer volume of food she ate for lunch.

You’re in the back of the house, where the two of you keep the bulk of your books and the record player. You’re curled up in your arm chair –a plush, quilted emerald green seat–with a book in your lap and a cup of tea on the end table between your chair and hers. You smile and look up when she walks in –then your jaw drops when you see the box tucked under her arm. “You went to Cheriquis?”

“I took Vi there for lunch,” Grayson defends herself. “She was a bit overwhelmed after the initial tux fitting –speaking of, don’t let me forget to sleuth out the color of Caitlyn’s dress; Agatha needs a swatch to work with.” She walks over to your chair, bends to give you a kiss, then holds out the box to you. “Aunt Roshie sent these home for you.”

“Oh, bless her.” You slide your thumbnail through the sticker holding the box shut, then lift the lid. You select a perfectly round bamie, bite through half of it, then close your eyes and let out a blissful groan. “I haven’t been to Cheriqui’s in forever and a day. And, if we’re on the topic of reminders, don’t let me forget to book a reservation there for my senior’s final’s study group.”

“I’ll do my best.” She sits in her chair with a muted groan. “How has your day been?”

You wave one hand dismissively. “Literally nothing has happened. I’ve been utterly unproductive.” You grin when she chuckles, then finish off your bamie before holding the box out to her.

Grayson holds up one hand to turn you down. “Gods, no. We practically ate the whole damn menu.”

“Oh.” You blink, then smile. “Oh. Was it Vi’s first time trying Persian food?” When she nods, you laugh lightly. “That was a dangerous admission to make. I nearly passed out the first time you took me to Cheriqui’s.”

“Vi was in a similar state to you when we left,” Grayson says. “But she enjoyed herself –and the family enjoyed her, too.”

“I can’t fathom how she wouldn’t. I’m glad they liked her, though!”

“I’ll say.” She smirks. “I think they were all impressed when she ate a goat’s eye.”

Your eyes widen, and your brows spike towards your hairline. “Yeah, that’d do it.” You laugh. “How’d she handle it?”

“Apparently, she’s familiar with fish head stew, so it didn’t faze her.”

You nod. “The food in the Lanes is definitely rustic.”

“You don’t say!” She grins when you laugh, then shakes her head. “She met Aunt Roshie, too –she wants you to stop by soon, by the way.”

“Oh, twist my arm. What did Roshie think of Vi?”

“I think she liked Vi –but I think she liked telling Vi stories about me trying to get out of my dresses and tights as a kid.” She pauses when you snicker, then sighs and adds in a resigned tone, “And she definitely liked asking me ‘what about her deli turns me into a stripper’ in front of Vi.”

You burst into delighted cackles and clap your hands together. You rock back in your chair –hard enough that your chair scoots back slightly. “She did not!”

“Oh, she did.” Grayson grimaces. “In English.”

“Oh, Janna!” You clutch at your sides as tears of mirth stream down your face. “Bless that woman. I absolutely adore Roshie.” You wipe your cheeks, then your eyes, all while giggling. “Oh, I wish I could’ve been there for that!”

She can’t help but smile, exasperation aside. “I don’t doubt it.”

Once you regain some coherency, you shift so you’re sitting properly in your chair once more and look at her. “How’d the fitting go?”

“It went alright. I think Vi was overwhelmed, though.”

“By Agatha, or by the process?”

“By the process.” Grayson drums her fingers against the arm of her chair. “I mean –I know how things were for you, at the start. You certainly know how they were for you.”

“I do,” you agree while nodding slowly. Your expression is grim, lips pressed into a tight line. “I also know that they don’t always get better on a bigger scale.”

“I know.” She sighs, weary, and folds her hands in her lap. And Vi doesn’t seem like the type to take the route of “blending in.”

The first few years of your relationship had been a brutal, rude awakening. Not just in seeing the destitution of Zaun for the first time –and being lightly hazed with what Jericho thought was passable as food–but realizing just how much Piltovans hated anyone from the Undercity.

You’d had to scrape and fight your way through university; she hadn’t witnessed it personally, but you’d told her horror stories about professors docking points because you didn’t have a surname to list on your assignments. Or marking you down during presentations because your accent was different. Or refusing to let you attend office hours without security present because they were “concerned” for their “wellbeing.”

She’d heard stories about you getting harassed at work by colleagues and bosses, only for human resources to do nothing. She’d witnessed the harassment once –one of your male coworkers had slapped you on the ass–and she’d had to go up the chain of directors and presidents as a Captain in the ranks of the Enforcers before any recourse was afforded.

She’d had extended family members sit her down for countless interventions when she’d proposed to you. They’d cited rampant crime and drug abuse in the Undercity, how you’d bring unbearable baggage with you, how your reputation and “status” would harm her career and ability to climb the ladder. Hell, she’d had ex-girlfriends come crawling out of the woodwork and try to interfere with your relationship, only to later find out that several meddling aunts had orchestrated the whole nightmare. She’d married you anyway –and sent them all notices in the mail that they were not invited to the wedding or reception.

People used to nearly walk over you in the streets. Men would catcall you, or call you a “bitch in lady’s clothing.” Women would whisper to their companions and laugh at you, regardless of whether you were in earshot or not. People would come up and talk to her without once addressing you, or even looking in your direction.

There was one glorious incident, shortly after she’d been promoted to Lieutenant, when she’d gotten a call from her patrolmen about a drunk and disorderly complaint. She’d shown up at a local shop, only to find you in cuffs –and utterly sober, no less.

She doesn’t remember much of what she said while dressing down her patrolmen. She’s heard, however, that she made one man throw up afterwards, just from sheer terror.

It’s not as bad as it used to be. The people who remember you as an Undercity hopeful aren’t really around anymore. You’ve got the right clothes, a respectable career, and several awards and accreditations in journalism under your belt. People know you as a professor now. As her wife.

Somehow, I don’t think Vi wants to be known just as Caitlyn Kiramman’s wife, she thinks to herself.

“Gray.” You squeeze her hand. “Where’d you go?”

She inhales sharply as you drag her out of her reverie. “Nowhere, really.” She clears her throat. “I was thinking about how things were for you when we first got together. How… how hard it was.”

You smile reassuringly. “It wasn’t all bad. I had you.”

Grayson smiles back, then takes your hand in hers. “I’m flattered, but we both know it was terrible.” When you wince, but don’t say anything else, she continues. “I suppose I’m worried that Vi will have a harder time of it. You…” Her voice trails off, and then she grimaces. Shit. How do I say this without being insulting?

“I blended in better?” you surmise with an arched eyebrow and a smirk.

“I don’t see Vi adopting popular hairstyles or covering her tattoos,” Grayson allows in an attempt to be tactful. “Or attending university.”

“She shouldn’t have to,” you point out.

“I know,” she agrees. “I just…” She sighs, then squeezes your hand. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt powerless like this. I haven’t missed it.”

You coo softly and cock your head to one side. “You’ve become very fond of her.”

“She’s a good kid,” Grayson admits, emphatic. “She has a good heart. And I’d hoped this city had grown out of its prejudices over the past couple of decades, but…”

“But it hasn’t,” you finish, soft and sympathetic, when her voice trails off.

“But it hasn’t,” she echoes wearily. She rubs the bridge of her nose with her other hand. “I’m so tired of the fucking bureaucratic bullshit.”

“Easy, love.” You rub small circles against the back of her hand with your thumb. “Focus on what you can do, not what you can’t.”

I’m the Sheriff of Piltover. I should be able to do whatever I damn well like. She huffs, but sets aside the mental grousing for more productive lines of thinking. “I might get a new tux for the gala.”

You blink a few times, then frown. “...Okay?”

“Vi went with a charcoal colored tuxedo,” she explains. “In all due fairness, Agatha recommended it.”

“Ah.” Your confused expression settles into a small, melancholy smile. “A non-traditional color choice.”

“I think I’ll pick up something non-traditional, too. Just so Vi isn’t the single odd duck out.”

Your eyes crinkle around the corners as your smile grows. “That’s sweet of you. What color do you think you’ll get?”

She shrugs. “Maybe silver. It’d be a winter color, at least.”

“Ooh.” Your eyes light up. “You’d look good in silver. Very distinguished.”

She grins at you. “I’m glad you have your approval.”

You grin, then wink. “I bet you’ll look good out of it, too.”

Grayson laughs, heartfelt. Then, she leans over and kisses you.

#sass writes #grayson x reader #arcane grayson #grayson arcane #enforcer grayson #happy new year everybody!#finally a nice wholesome fic for the new year #odant #grayson lowkey highkey adopts vi as her gay butch baby #pls excuse the nebulous worldbuilding #i went with some middle eastern culture -iranian specficially #bc grayson's va is iranian #but a lot of the sources i used referenced persian food and culture #and i wasn't sure if there was a region in LoL that would square with the middle east let alone iran #so i used the term persian pls don't kill me #no smut in this one sorry lmao

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