ok ok so, walk with me here..
victoria javadi x gn!reader, victoria obviously has her mommy issues but what if reader (around the same age as victoria) also has mommy issues (alcoholic mother?? psh no i am totally not projecting…👀) mayhaps they both bond over these things in some form or another but lots of angst (maybe reader turns to alcohol too one night and vic helps them??)
slow burn friends to lovers where they are just there for each other, maybe become roommates (vic moves into r’s new apartment or something) and the new routine feels so domestic and maybe there have already been a few close moments between them so after a while one of them is like “what are we” kind of thing
maybe even cassie notices a change in victoria’s mood after moving in with r, maybe r can shadow samira or something so vice versa and it makes them all blushy but they’re still in the denial stage then.
i know it’s a lot so you don’t have to include it all but thank you so much for writing this if you do <33 i appreciate you sharing your work with us
Sick With Want (pt. 1- Sick With Want)
Victoria Javadi x gn!reader
Summary: Victoria Javadi is your best friend, but sometimes, the heart wants a little more than friendly affection
Word count: 4.46k
Warnings: reader is sort of a perv, I won't lie; alcoholism, mention of functional alcoholism, reader gets drunk, confession of feelings, but it's not reciprocated, Victoria begs reader to kiss her at one point, hangover mentioned, domesticated bliss, Victoria and reader cuddle but platonically
🎵 - Sunshine Baby
You told yourself you’d be good this time. You really did.
This year, you were gonna get sober and stay sober.
You had a new residency at the PTMC, a new two-bedroom apartment, and a new car. You were doing well with money, and, most importantly, you had a new outlook on life.
Your friends adored you; you even had a few best friends you could count on from time to time. Victoria Javadi in particular.
You two were the same age. 20 turning 21. You were turning 21 in May, and she would be 21 in July. Both of you had plans for one another. You knew about her aversion to having a birthday, and you two had bonded over that fact. You also hated celebrating your birthday. It was a sour subject for both of you.
In the past, the farthest you’d go was getting a cupcake from the nearby grocery store, maybe sticking a candle in it, and then simply eating it like it’s nothing but a dessert.
So you and Victoria had decided to hang out on your birthday. You two would just watch your favorite movies, eat snacks, and you would cook dinner for the two of you. It’s honestly something you guys did every Saturday, so it wasn’t like it was anything special.
She told you she might bring you a small cupcake she baked, but that was about it.
Since the day wasn’t anything to you, you just decided to work. The date had popped up on Dana’s calendar, however, as apparently she puts everyone’s birthdays in her computer AND phone calendar, and you had gotten a great big ‘Happy Birthday’ when you walked in that morning from her.
Which barrel rolled into other people coming up, slapping your back, and congratulating you. It was exhausting having to tell everyone over and over again, ‘Nope. I’m not doing anything. Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s my 21st birthday, I know. Special day, ahh yeah. Nope.’ Every time.
You knew no one understood, even when you tried to explain it. The only person who did was Victoria. It was nice having someone who understood. You knew Victoria had her mommy issues, and you had yours. While both mothers loved to hurl disappointments at their children, your mother’s speeches were more slurred and discombobulated with insults tacked on.
It hurt. It always hurt. And you would never forget. Everyone you’ve ever talked to has told you ‘But time heals’ and ‘you’ll forget about those things. Be the bigger person,’ but you never did. You never forgot your mother’s insults, your mother’s words.
And neither did Victoria. Her mother is constantly undermining her, demeaning her, the typical helicopter parent. An elitist asshole, in your own opinion.
You often found Victoria crying in the farthest bathroom stall, curled in on herself as she sat against the wall after her mother had come down for a ‘visit’. Really, it’s just to see what Victoria is messing up and berating her on it. You often wonder why Robby hasn’t said anything about it. It’s clearly weighing on Victoria’s shoulders.
She sometimes goes out of her way, Victoria, to hide somewhere her mother will not find her.
The two of you have spent many a night chatting on the sidewalk of the ambulance bay, bonding over horrible experiences with each other.
And over the months, it had certainly delved into something else. For you, anyway. It had gone past the friendship part. You loved talking to her, you got excited waking up in the morning, knowing she would be there today. While you loved everyone on the morning shift, you were always a bit quieter when it was Victoria’s day off.
But you knew nothing could happen. Even after the multiple close encounters she’s had with you; Her getting too drunk and asking to feel what it’s like to kiss a girl, after you had told her you had been kissing girls since the ninth grade. ‘Please? Kiss me, c’mon. Please? And you had to remember that you were 100% sober and absolutely could not do that to her.
Her getting ready at your apartment, wearing a mini skirt, and she had reached for a glass to pour some water in. You sat on the seat of the kitchen island, your fist pressed up against your mouth to stop from groaning as you caught a peek of her thighs, then her ass, and then the dark color of the thong she was wearing that was peeking out.
One time, she pulled you into the nearby coat closet. She had sectioned you off, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a vacant room as she spotted her mother. There wasn’t much room; in fact, there wasn’t any room at all.
She stood right in front of you, right against you. She just stared up at you, seemingly unaware, as you’re positive your face was heating up.
“What are you doing?” You had asked her, in a whisper, of course.
“My mom!” She responded, as if it was obvious. And it was, you knew why she had dragged you in here, but you didn’t know why she had dragged you in here.
“You couldn’t have picked any other place?!” Your hands were on her shoulders at the start, but they had somehow shifted down to her waist.
“Oh my god, are you claustrophobic? I’m so sorry-!” Victoria began, but you stopped her.
“It’s fine. It’s okay. I-I’m not claustrophobic. It’s just…I…” You had to scramble for an excuse. “I hate the dark.”
But that did not work out in your favor. Or maybe it did. Because she tried to hold you in the small room that both of you had, to try and make you feel at least a little better. However, all it did was make your body temperature rise. And being a studying doctor, she felt it too, assuredly.
So after that, you’ve tried to step back a little. Sure, it seemed like you were avoiding her at some points throughout the day, but you felt it was somehow better that way. Of course, you still talked to her and went on coffee runs in the morning, but there was no more joining her at bars, no more of her dragging you into nearby closets, none of that.
Because you promised yourself you would be good.
But Victoria had moved in with you, an attempt to get away from her mother, and while you loved it, there’s also the fact that you still had a big fucking crush on her that honestly was not going away anytime soon. You had to drop the ‘staying away’ act. Especially now that she’s walking around most of the time in a t-shirt and shorts that ride up some whenever she reaches for a glass or a plate.
You had to keep reminding yourself in the mirror every morning, ‘Be good, be good, be good. You have to be good.’
But that all came crashing down in a matter of days by a simple phone call you hadn’t bothered to pick up.
“Have a good birthday. Kind of forgot your birthday was today, had to check on my calendar. Then your grandmother came by and asked what we were doing. Had to tell her I forgot. Anyway, hope you get a cake or something. I don’t know. You were never a fan of your birthday when you were little, so I guess why would you start now?”
That night was your first night drinking in a long time.
You got really, really drunk and somehow ended up on the bottom of your kitchen floor. Victoria was coming home soon. It was your day off, but Victoria had to pick up a shift. However, she had promised you she would be home on time with arms full of snacks, and you two could start the movie.
Instead, you decided to call her in your drunken state.
“Hey!” she answers. “I’m on my way! I’m just at the 7/11 nearby getting our favs-”
“Coooollll,” You respond, your words a little slurred. And she can hear it.
Her excited words stop and are replaced by tentative breaths. “Are you okay?”
“Mmmm.” is all you can answer with.
“Where are you?”
“Where ‘r you?” Your eyes close as you wait to hear her voice. Your fingers thrum on your stomach, feet kicked out in front of you.
“I just told you. I was just about to head over for our movie and snack night. Are you home right now? A-are you safe? You’re safe at least, right?”
“Ummmmmm,” You hum, your eyes opening again and trying to focus on the ceiling above you. “Think so?”
“Are you at home?” Her voice becomes more urgent, asking the question again.
“Why? You wanna come over?” You smile at your horrible attempt to try to flirt. But Victoria doesn’t take it like that. Also, she lives with you. “I have a bottle of alcohol with our name on it,” you slur, picking your head up off the floor to glance at the bottle of Tequila lying on the ground. Empty. “Mmm, maybe not. Must’ve drank it’all.”
“Oh god. Okay. You’re at the apartment, right?”
“Yupa.” Your head feels like it’s floating. It’s nice. Really nice.
So Victoria arrives, the key you had given her a few months ago sounds in the lock before it clicks open, and the door creaks as it slowly drifts wider. The light from the hall shines behind Vic, and she’s looking down at you with something more than pity.
“Oh no.” She says, and it has you trying to get up. She drops to her knees to help, gently coaxing you into a sitting position. “Okay, um, I don’t know much about helping with drunk people, but I’m a doctor, so how hard can it be, right? Med school was assuredly harder.”
She’s more or less talking to herself. Hyping herself up. It makes you smile because she does it often. Under her breath when she’s about to go in for surgery. She’ll stand beside you if you’re there, whispering words of encouragement for herself, and it causes drunken you to smile at the memory.
You somehow make it to your feet, the discarded empty bottle now on the kitchen counter as she wraps one arm around your waist and the other comes up to hold your arm that’s currently slung around the back of Victoria’s neck.
“Vic, I can’t do it.” You tell her, staring down at the floor and your feet.
“Wh…what do you mean? It’s-it’s just the floor, right? I mean, I can try to carry you, but-”
“Just leave me in the living room.”
“But you’d have to walk there too.” She counters.
You glance over your left shoulder, and the living room is farther away than your bedroom right now. “I guess you’re right. To the bathroom.”
“Bedroom,” she corrects before making your feet move.
“Bedroom,” you agree, like that was the plan for you all along, instead of just falling asleep on the hardwood flooring. Your head falls forward and then sideways onto Victoria’s shoulder.
She gets you into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. “We can celebrate another night, okay?” She prompts, her face at your eye level.
“I love you.” You breathe out. “You’re so good to me.”
“I’m your friend. Why wouldn’t I be good to you?” Her round eyes are taking in every dark feature of your face.
“No, no, I mean,” You’re trying to get the right words out, but with an inebriated mind, it’s not going too well. “Like…even when I’m not good to you. Like when I avoid you at work.”
“You avoid me at work?” She looks taken aback. Granted, maybe you shouldn’t have told her that, but the alcohol running through you is making you hold nothing back.
“Yeah.” You nod. “I like you too much. Like like you like you.” It seems so stupid to say out loud. It sounds like you’re in high school. ‘Like you like you’, ugh. Maybe you’re not even making sense. You’re probably not.
But Victoria’s gone quiet. Did you say something wrong?
“You’re drunk.” She tells you, and you nod.
“Yeah. Very drunk.” You smile.
“Go to sleep.”
“Going to sleep.”
———
There’s a nice note the next morning, stuck underneath a glass of water and two pills of Advil.
You don’t know what you drank last night, but god was it a bad idea. Well, drinking overall was a bad idea. You thought you were doing so well. But of course, your mother had to go and ruin it with a voicemail.
The voicemail itself wasn’t too bad; you could handle it. But it was all the pent-up emotions, the easy route of turning back to alcohol to numb everything, it was the fact that she had completely forgotten your birthday and told you you never even celebrated it as a kid. Which just isn’t true.
You loved your birthday as a kid. You adored it. You wanted the pretty pink birthday parties every other child your age seemed to get. You wanted a vanilla-flavored cake with white frosting and pink roses on top with cursive writing spelling out ‘Happy Birthday’.
You wanted all of that.
Except that the most you got was a sad ‘Happy Birthday Kid’ from your mother. Just the words. No cupcake, no present. It didn’t even matter if she had half the decency to pick up a card from the nearby Family Dollar and scribbled her name down real fast.
She didn’t even have to write a birthday message. Just cross her t’s and dot her i’s.
But now you don’t want a cake, cupcake, balloons, banners, pink roses, cards, anything like that. You hate the mention of your birthday, you hate the date, you hate everything that is associated with it.
“Feeling better?” Victoria’s voice comes from the other side of the door.
“Nope.” You groan, your voice croaking.
She laughs a little before pushing your bedroom door open. She’s holding a plate of eggs, toast, bacon, and what looks like a few slices of oranges.
“What’s this?” You ask, attempting to sit up in a way that doesn’t have your head splitting in two.
“Breakfast?”
“Yeah, but why? Should you be….like…at work? So should I.” You turn your head slowly to look at the digital alarm clock sitting on your bedside table. It reads 8:30 in little red numbers. “Shit.” You hang your head.
“I mean, yeah, I told them I was going to be late. I’m leaving right now. Just wanted to make you a little something before I left. And I told them you had a small incident yesterday and you won’t be able to attend work today.”
“Oh, thanks.” You reach for the plate filled with the greasy food. “Thank you, Vic.”
“You’re welcome.” She grants you a smile, but then it drops. “Are…you okay?”
You shrug as you take a bite of the bacon, delighting in the fact that it’s crispy but not to the point that it’s burnt. That’s the other thing about Victoria you liked. She always remembered how you loved your bacon cooked.
“I mean, besides a hangover, yeah. I guess.”
“Are you sure? You were a few months sober, and now you’re at the bottom again.” Your fork stops cutting up the over-easy eggs as she speaks. “I-I mean not like that! I meant, you had tried so hard. I know you were really trying this time. That’s what I meant.”
She blurts out, trying to save her ass.
“I know what you meant, Vic.” Your voice comes out quiet.
“I’m sorry. That sounded really mean.” She sits down on the edge of your bed and plants a hand on your knee. That’s when it all comes pouring out. You place the plate aside on the nearby bedside table and just crash into her.
Your arms wrap around her, your face planting itself in her neck. Her arms wrap around you, too. You’re trying to somewhat push yourself into her lap. You cry against her skin as she holds you, probably unsure of what to say. She never really knows what to say in moments like these.
She lets you cry it out on her shoulder, and when you eventually pull back, she looks at you with such a heartbreaking expression that it makes the tears begin to flow all over again.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, her hands coming to cradle your face like you’re some sort of broken, fragile thing. “It’s okay.”
She really is too good to you.
You sniffle and officially pull away from her. “Go to work.” You say, offering her a smile. The best smile you can manage before you feel the urge to throw up. She’s there to help you through it, as she knows being sick is a fear of yours.
Her hand rubs soothing circles on your back, helping you to ignore the churning of your stomach with each effort vomiting takes out of you. She’s there to wipe your mouth with a paper towel and hand you your brush and toothpaste to clean yourself up a bit.
She puts you back into bed, making sure the covers are up to your chin. However, before she can leave, you’re quick to grab her hand. “Vic,” you start, your eyes closed as you feel yourself back on the brink of exhaustion. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“Have a good day.”
“You too.” You can hear the smile in her words.
“Debatable.”
————
By the time Victoria gets home, you’re up and moving. Granted, you still have a major headache, but you want to make something for her in return for her making sure you were okay throughout the day.
She even came home on her lunch break to make sure you had been taking Advil every three hours and hydrating yourself.
So now you were up, standing against the stove, mixing some garlic into the red tomato sauce you were sure to be stirring every other five minutes. The heart-shaped pasta is cooking on the opposite burner, and the garlic bread you picked up from the nearby grocery store is baking in the oven.
You smile to yourself when the lock clicks and the front door opens. Victoria is quick to kick off her shoes and let her bag fall to the floor before she even realizes you’re out of bed.
“Why are you out of bed? You’re supposed to be sleeping and taking it easy-”
“I’m fine, Vic. I wanted to surprise you.” You shrug like it’s no big deal. Victoria, on the other hand, takes it to heart immediately.
“Why? You don’t have to surprise me.”
“It’s for earlier.” You’re not big on affirmations through words. You like doing things for other people and then playing it off like it’s no big deal, but secretly you love to see people get giddy and bashful about someone doing ordinary, everyday things for them. And Victoria definitely gets bashful when you do things like this for her.
“For earlier? I was just being a friend.” She finds the whole thing funny- that you’re so grateful.
“I know, but you still deserve something for thanks. Especially with not…y’know getting mad at me and whatnot.”
She grabs herself a cup, not even out of her black scrubs yet. She fills it with water and comes up beside you, looking down at the thick bubbling sauce. “I’d never get mad at you. Looks good.”
“Thank you.” You respond, for both her saying she’d never get mad at you and for complimenting your cooking. “How was today?”
“Samira’s pissed you didn’t show up. She was left to deal with Robby alone.”
“I’ll have to text her I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, if she doesn’t kill you first.” Victoria begins to set the small table. Two glasses, two forks, two knives, two spoons, napkins, and two plates. You turn off both burners and strain the pasta before adding the noodles to the sauce. Your stomach grumbles at the different smells as you set everything down onto the table.
The garlic bread is next, moving to place one on Victoria’s plate and then your own. Victoria is practically licking her lips as the pasta meets her plate; her fork is in her hand already.
“Was it really that bad today?” You question, piling some onto your plate as well. Victoria is nice enough to wait until you sit down before shoveling the vodka pasta into her mouth.
“I think everyone was just upset you weren’t there. I didn’t…like tell them anything! I swear! They just miss you when you’re out for the day, that’s all.” She’s over-explaining, which is a tell that she’s clearly nervous.
“I didn’t think you did.” You shake your head. “I know I’ve said it a thousand times today, but thank you.” You look at her face. Her brown eyes and the laugh lines around her mouth. She’s always laughing.
Her eyebrows crease together as she mumbles, “No problem,” through a mouthful of food.
Sometimes, you think it couldn’t get better than this. You want it to be the norm. You want her to come home, or you, and see one of the two of you cooking, in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear.
You want to wake up next to her and not have to rush out the door for work. You want to wake up next to her. You’ve done it before, but that’s mostly because she had pulled you into bed, begging drunkenly for you to stay with her. You would oblige, sliding into the cold spot beside her warm body and staring up at the ceiling as she lay her head on your chest.
You wanted her to cuddle up next to you at night consciously. You wanted her to choose you instead of Cassie. You wanted to wake up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the air and Victoria sitting on the kitchen counter, wearing just one of your t-shirts and the pretty underwear she wears.
But for right now, you’d settle for this domestication bliss. A dinner you made, still half hungover, and an exhausted Victoria sitting across from you.
She helps you with the dishes and puts the extra food away before the two of you settle down on your bed. You’re lying against the headboard, your head propped up on the body pillow behind you, and Vic is lying beside you, your legs intertwined with hers.
A movie plays in the background, but you’re not paying attention. Exhaustion hits you out of nowhere, even though you practically slept the day away. And Victoria notices, as she gently kicks your leg.
“Mmm,” you mumble, eyes not opening.
“Stay awake. This is the good part.”
“Can’t….keep my eyes…open, Vic,” you tell her, struggling to open your eyes to look at your best friend.
You feel her shift, and you think she’s probably sitting up to hit you playfully on the arm or something, except you feel her cuddle up next to you, her arms tucked against her front. Your left arm moves to encircle her, and you feel as she lays her head on your chest.
“Is this okay?” Her voice is a quiet thing.
“Yeah.” You murmur, nodding. Your eyes are still closed, but you press a kiss to her forehead. It’s a simple thing, but it means everything to you. Your fingers run through her hair as you begin to fall into a deep sleep, per the rhythmic movements of your hand.
This feels so natural. Like something meant to happen. But you know, in the back of your mind, Victoria has a crush on Cassie McKay and not you. She used to have a crush on Mateo, but that diminished into nothing when she began to spend more days at the ER with Cass.
It’s not like you can blame Victoria, either. It’s Cassie. She’s a good-looking woman. But the heart wants what it wants, and it doesn’t want Cassie. It wants your best friend, and it wants her bad.
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