freya

Gangster!Vi holds your hands down by your sides as she kisses you, her muscular thighs pressing between your legs.

You almost don’t register because you’re so distracted by the scent of smoke in her breath. You whine softly once you feel the muscular limb pressing against your sensitive area.

“Vi,” you start but she shushes you with a kiss, almost comforting you. You don’t even realise when you start grinding against her leg, chasing the pleasure.

Vi chuckles as she watches the way you struggle against her strength. She keeps you pinned down as she enjoys the way your body twists and tries to seek pleasure without her doing anything. Your panties have a visibly wet patch at the crotch. It’s embarrassing.

You need her so badly.

“Please, baby,” you whisper, making Vi lean in and kiss your forehead. You look adorable when you’re all desperate but she’s not gonna fuck you just yet.

She wants to see you beg for it.

vi + gratitude? i’m a big fan of the yuri so far!

gratitude.

"oh thank god... that feels nice..."

you resist the urge to roll your eyes, pressing the pad of your thumb into the junction of vi's shoulders, rolling it slowly forward over her skin. she shudders beneath you, letting out a soul-heavy breath, groaning into the pillow.

"i keep telling you -- you gotta stretch after you work out --"

"yeah but that's what i've got you for, princess," her words come out slightly muffled, her face still shoved into the powder-white pillow of the hotel room.

"no i mean like every day --"

"what, are you planning to leave me sometime soon?"

CROSS YOUR MIND!

CHAPTER NINE : COFFEE AND CONFESSIONS

pairing: au paramedic!vi x er nurse!reader

cw: ya ts lowkey buns

4.1k words

series directory

Your thumb hovered over your screen for what felt like an eternity. 

The little message sat there, glowing against the dark background, a confession you couldn’t take back:

“I really like your sister and I don’t know if I messed it up.”

You stared at it until your eyes blurred. 

For the first thirty seconds, you tried convincing yourself that maybe the message hadn’t sent, maybe the signal had dropped. 

But no – there it was, neat and blue, mocking you with its finality.

And Jinx hadn’t answered.

You flopped onto your back on the couch, pressing the heel of your hand against your forehead. 

What were you thinking? 

Out of everyone in the world, you went and dropped that line to Jinx? 

You couldn’t even imagine what she was doing right now. 

Laughing? Screenshotting it? Running straight to Vi?

The quiet in your apartment stretched, heavy and unbearable. 

You rolled onto your side, grabbed your phone again, and checked. Still nothing.

Two minutes passed.

Three.

You told yourself you weren’t going to check again, but of course you did. 

Screen lighting up empty, except for the mocking reminder: Read 11:42 PM. 

She’d seen it. She’d seen it and… what? 

Was she composing some elaborate response? Or worse, showing it to Vi and letting her read it out loud?

Your chest tightened. 

You shoved the phone under a pillow and sat up, running your hands through your hair. 

Maybe you should just follow up with “jk ignore me” –  pretend you were drunk, or delirious, or hacked. 

Anything.

The buzz of a notification made you lunge for the phone. Heart hammering, you flipped it over.

Not Jinx. Just some random email.

You groaned, letting your head fall back onto the pillow. “Kill me now,” you muttered into the cushion.

Another minute crawled by. 

Two. 

You started counting your breaths, just to give your brain something to do. 

By breath forty, the phone vibrated.

Your pulse spiked so fast it hurt.

Jinx: HA! I KNEW IT

Your stomach dropped, then twisted, then shot straight up into your throat. Relief and horror tangled together until you couldn’t tell which one was stronger.

You barely had time to respond before another barrage of messages popped up.

Jinx: knew knew knew knew knew knew knew it

You let the phone fall onto your chest and stared at the ceiling, eyes wide. Oh God. What had you started?

The typing dots blinked. Disappeared. Blinked again. 

Every pause stretched your nerves tighter, like she was dangling you on a hook.

Jinx: don’t freak out Jinx: ok DO freak out Jinx: cause this is PERFECT

Your throat went dry. Perfect? What about this was perfect?

You fumbled to reply, fingers clumsy on the screen:

You: Jinx… please don’t make this into a thing.

Almost instantly:

Jinx: oh its a thing Jinx: we’re makin it a thing Jinx: but like. a GOOD thing Jinx: TRUST ME

You sat up straighter, clutching the phone like it might explode. Trust Jinx? You hardly even know her!

You: What are you planning?

Dots blinked again. 

Too long this time. 

You chewed the inside of your cheek, restless, every second stretching thinner.

Finally:

Jinx: just a lil sisterly assist ;)

Your stomach flipped.

Jinx: meet me @ Grayson’s Coffee tomorrow noon Jinx: and wear something nice. cute. like. you know. Jinx: the opposite of scrubs

You stared at the words, reread them, then reread them again.

You: …Why?

This time, it took her longer. 

So long you started pacing, crossing the small stretch of your living room like a caged animal. 

By the time your phone buzzed again, your chest ached from how hard your heart was working.

Jinx: cause i’m gonna fix your guys' mess.. duh

You froze mid-step, blinking at the screen. 

Fix your mess? 

What did that even mean? 

The air felt too thin in your apartment, every inhale too shallow.

You: Jinx You: no You: wait

But she was already typing.

Jinx: she likes you back btw. she’s just dumb. Jinx: see u at noon sugarplum <3

And then nothing. No matter how long you waited.

You lowered the phone slowly, the blood rushing in your ears loud enough to drown out the silence.

“She likes you back.”

The words spun on repeat, louder than your thoughts, louder than your doubts. 

You didn’t know if it was the truth or just Jinx being Jinx. 

But the hook was already set, deep and impossible to shake.

Tomorrow. 

Noon. 

Coffee shop.

You pressed the phone to your chest and lay there, every nerve alive, a restless energy keeping you wide awake. 

Anxiety gnawed at the edges of the possibility, but beneath it – somewhere you barely let yourself touch – was the sharp, dangerous spark of hope.

…

You barely slept. Every time you closed your eyes, your brain dragged you back to that same glowing screen, to Jinx’s string of chaotic texts and the one line you couldn’t stop rereading:

she likes you back btw.

It shouldn’t have had that kind of power over you.

It was just Jinx.

The same girl who sobbed into an old-beat up stuffy in the waiting room.

The same girl who full-on cackles at AI videos of cats dancing on Instagram reels.

Trusting Jinx with delicate matters was like asking a hurricane to hold your wine glass steady.

And yet, something about the way she typed it, the lack of irony or her usual dramatic flare, had hooked itself under your ribs.

You tossed and turned all night, staring at the outfit you’d already set out like it might bite you.

Nice enough to count as “cute,” but not so formal that Vi would think you were trying too hard.

You’d stood there in your bedroom holding up shirts like it was a life-or-death decision, before finally throwing one into your work bag and telling yourself: This will do. You’re being ridiculous.

The ridiculousness followed you into the morning.

Coffee barely cut through the fog.

The clock seemed to mock you with every red digit that blinked past.

You showered, dressed for your shift, double-checked that your 'cute' outfit was untouched and waiting for later, and headed into the hospital with a stomach knotted tight.

Maddie clocked you the moment you stepped onto the floor.

“You’re weird today.” She leaned against the counter, arms folded, eyes narrowing.

“I’m always weird,” you muttered, signing into the system, grateful for the shield of the computer screen.

“No, no,” Maddie shook her head, her ponytail swishing. “This is different. This is ‘something happened and you’re either not telling me because it’s bad or not telling me because it’s good.’ Which is it?”

You rubbed at your temple. “Nothing”

“Bullshit,” she said cheerfully.

You sighed. Maddie wasn’t going to let it go, and you were too tired to dance around her questions. So you told her, plain and flat: “Drop it or I'll kick your ass, Maddie"

She just laughs and nudges your shoulder in response.

…

The shift dragged.

Every thirty minutes felt like an hour.

You found yourself glancing at your phone compulsively, pulling it from your pocket every chance you got, screen lighting up your anxious reflection.

Nothing.

By ten a.m., you’d convinced yourself Jinx had forgotten.

By eleven, you were sure she’d been messing with you entirely, that the texts had been a prank and you’d been stupid enough to fall for it.

“Checking again?” Maddie’s voice cut through your spiral.

You shoved the phone back in your pocket. “No.”

She smirked, but didn’t press, just handed you a chart and nudged you toward a patient’s room.

Still, you could feel her amusement following you down the hall.

Time blurred.

The familiar rhythm of work carried you, but underneath it all, there was a restless buzzing in your veins.

Every conversation, every vitals check, every chart update — none of it landed, not really.

Your thoughts circled the same drain: What if she doesn’t text? What if she does? What if this is all a mistake?

And then — finally — your phone buzzed.

You nearly dropped the chart in your hands, fumbling to pull it free.

Jinx: remember, noon. don’t b late.

Your pulse rocketed. Noon. That was… less than an hour away.

You typed with shaky thumbs.

You: I’m working.

The reply was instantaneous.

Jinx: lol nice try Jinx: ur and vi's shift ends at 11:30

You froze. She checked?

You: Jinx.

Jinx: don’t back out. trust me.

…

When the clock finally ticked over to the end of your shift, you were already changed out of scrubs, bag slung over your shoulder like you were fleeing a crime scene.

“Whoa,” Maddie said, catching sight of you practically sprinting for the doors. “In a hurry much?”

You forced a casual tone that didn’t fool anyone. “Plans.”

She smirked knowingly. “Good luck.”

You froze. “What?”

“Nothing.” She lifted her hands, all innocence, but the grin stayed on her face. “Just… good luck.”

You groaned, muttered something under your breath, and escaped before she could pry anything else out of you.

…

The walk to Grayson’s Coffee felt like the longest of your life.

Your bag thumped against your hip with every step, your palms sweaty no matter how many times you wiped them on your jeans.

The streets blurred—cars, chatter, the smell of fresh bread from the bakery on the corner—but none of it anchored you.

Every block closer made your chest tighter. You rehearsed lines in your head, discarded them, started over. 

Hi, Vi!  Wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?

Too sharp. 

Hi. Can we talk? 

Too soft. 

Hi, I like you and I’m terrified and I don’t know what I’m doing but please don’t break my heart. 

Too honest.

By the time the café came into view, you were lightheaded. 

Noon sunlight bounced off the glass windows, people milled in and out with their lattes, and you could see the familiar crooked letters of the sign above the door.

You stopped on the curb, staring like it was the edge of a cliff. 

Your heart thudded against your ribs. This was it. No more spiraling, no more waiting, no more pretending you didn’t care.

You drew a shaky breath, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

The warm rush of coffee and sugar hit you first. 

The hum of chatter, the hiss of the espresso machine. And then – just past the counter – you spotted a shock of blue hair bobbing at one of the tables near the corner.

Jinx was already there. 

Waiting.

Your stomach flipped, nerves threatening to spill over. 

This was really happening.

You spotted Jinx before she spotted you, which was saying something. 

Or maybe it was just impossible not to notice her.

Jinx's blue hair is stuffed under a fedora three sizes too big, oversized sunglasses swallowing half her face. 

Across from her, Isha sat sipping hot chocolate with both hands, equally ridiculous in a hoodie pulled so tight around her face only her nose was visible. A giant pair of heart-shaped shades perched crookedly on her cheeks.

You froze in the doorway, half in disbelief, half in horror.

Jinx caught sight of you, grinned wide enough to crack her face in two, and leaned back in her chair like a mob boss. “Target acquired.”

Isha giggled into her cup.

Dragging yourself across the café floor, you dropped into the empty seat between them. 

“Really?” you hissed under your breath. “This is your idea of discreet?”

“What? Nobody suspects a thing.” Jinx tipped her hat lower with a dramatic flourish. “We’re invisible.”

Isha peeked over her shades at you and nodded excitedly before bursting into silent laughter.

You groaned.

“Relax, sunshine.” Jinx swirled the straw in her iced coffee. “This is gonna go smooth as silk. Isha’s here as backup in case you chicken out.”

“I’m not–”

“You were totally gonna chicken out.” Jinx waggled a finger at you.

“But don’t worry, Isha’s got your back.”

Isha shakes her head and waves to her hot chocolate with a smile.

Traitor.

Before you could snap back, the bell above the café door jingled. All three of you turned at once.

Vi.

She spotted Jinx instantly – fedora, sunglasses, and all – and the suspicion on her face deepened.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“Fashion,” Jinx shot back.

Vi’s gaze slid from her sister… to Isha’s suspicious hoodie… and finally to you. 

She froze, a flicker of confusion darting across her features. “Wait. What’s going on here?”

Jinx popped to her feet, clapping Vi on the shoulder as she passed. “I’ll be at the table in the corner.”

Isha waves her hands around at the table with a confused look, signaling that they're already at a table.

“Different table,” Jinx declared.

She tugged Isha up by the elbow, half-dragging her across the café.

“C’mon, hot chocolate buddy. We’re on surveillance.”

Isha waved at you from behind her shades as she shuffled along, quickly shooting a thumbs up with her gloved fingers.

And just like that, they were gone, leaving Vi standing in front of your table, arms crossed, brow furrowed.

You swallowed, forcing the words out before you could lose your nerve. “Sit. Please.”

For a moment, she just stared at you, jaw tense. But finally, she pulled out the chair and sank into it with a sigh, forearms braced on the table.

Her eyes searched yours, cautious. “Wanna tell me what this is about?”

Your pulse hammered, but you steadied your voice. “Wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Her brows shot up. “What? I haven’t—”

You just leveled her with a look. That steady, pointed silence that left no room for excuses.

She exhaled, gaze dropping to the table. “…Shit.”

From across the café, you heard the slurp of a straw and muffled giggling.

Vi’s jaw worked as though she were chewing on words she didn’t want to say. 

The silence dragged long enough that you almost filled it for her, but then her shoulders dropped and she muttered, “Fine. Yeah. I’ve been avoiding you.”

Your chest tightened. You’d known it, but hearing her admit it made something sting deep.

“Why?” Your voice was quiet, sharper than you meant, but it slipped out like that anyway.

Her eyes flicked up to yours for the briefest second before darting away. “Because I didn’t know how else to handle it.”

“Handle what?”

“You.”

The word landed like a strike to the chest. 

She dragged a hand through her hair, shaking her head with a low laugh that wasn’t amused at all.

“You drive me out of my mind. Every time I’m near you, it feels like – like if I’m not careful, I’ll say something that ruins everything.”

You swallowed, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “So instead you just… what? Shut me out?”

“Better than screwing you over,” she shot back, frustration laced in her voice. Then softer, guiltier: “At least, I thought it was.”

The blunt honesty in her tone made it harder to stay defensive. “Vi, you think not saying anything is better? You think pushing me away hurts less?”

She flinched at that, gaze dropping to her hands. Her fists clenched on the table like she was trying to hold herself together. “…I thought if I kept my distance, maybe the feelings would fade. Or you’d get tired of me and move on before I had a chance to mess it all up.”

The self-loathing in her voice made your stomach turn.

“Vi…” You leaned forward, lowering your voice. “Is that really what you think of me? That I’d just give up?”

Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “Wasn’t just that,” she admitted after a long pause. Her voice cracked slightly, like she hated saying it out loud. “Then I saw you. With Sevika.”

Your breath hitched.

Her jaw tightened, like she was bracing herself. “I knew she’d been interested in you – who wouldn't?  When I found out you actually… showed feelings back,” She exhaled sharply, leaning back in her chair like the words cost her. “I thought that was it. I thought I’d already lost.”

“Vi…”

She shook her head, bitter laughter spilling out. “Can you blame me? She’s got the guts I don’t. She’s not afraid to make a move. And me? I just–” She stopped, knuckles whitening as her hand curled into a fist against the table. 

“I panicked. Instead of fighting for you, I just… disappeared. Like a coward.”

The ache in your chest deepened.

“I didn’t go out with her because I wanted her, Vi,” you said firmly. “I did it because you kept avoiding me. Because Maddie kept telling me maybe I should just… move on. Because you left me wondering if I’d been imagining everything between us.”

Vi’s head snapped toward you, eyes wide.

You met her gaze and didn’t look away. “You’re the one I want. Not Sevika. Not anyone else. You. But you made me feel like I wasn’t worth the risk.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. For the first time, she looked completely unguarded – like you’d peeled away the tough edges she always carried like armor.

“I like you, Vi,” you said, plain and raw. “I don’t know how else to say it. I like you. And the only thing that hurts is you not letting yourself believe I could.”

Her breath hitched, and she pressed her hand over her mouth like the words were too much. When she finally lowered it, her voice was unsteady. “You don’t understand… wanting you isn’t the scary part. Losing you is.”

Something in your chest twisted.

“Then stop acting like you’ve already lost me,” you said softly.

Vi sat there, staring at you, like she couldn’t quite believe this conversation was happening. 

Her fingers twitched against the tabletop before she finally reached across the space between you, hesitantly, almost like she was afraid you’d pull away.

You didn’t. You slid your hand into hers, and she squeezed tight.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted, voice hoarse. “I’m shit at saying what I feel, and I don’t know if I can be the person you need me to be.”

You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t want some perfect version of you, Vi. I want you. Just you.”

Her chest rose and fell, shaky, her thumb brushing across your knuckles in slow circles. 

For a moment, she looked on the verge of breaking – torn between relief and terror.

“…So what now?” she asked quietly, like she genuinely didn’t know how to move forward.

“Now?” You gave a small, tired smile. “You stop avoiding me. Start trusting me. And maybe… maybe let yourself believe this could be real.”

Her lips quirked, just barely, though her eyes were still glassy with vulnerability. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It doesn’t have to be easy,” you replied. “It just has to be honest.”

Vi let out a shaky laugh, squeezing your hand tighter, as though she was anchoring herself to you. “God, you don’t make this easy for me, you know that?”

“Good,” you shot back softly. “I’m not supposed to.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t try to hide the smile tugging at her lips. 

It wasn’t much – it was cautious, fragile, full of things left unsaid – but it was a start.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. 

Her hand was still clasped tightly around yours, her thumb brushing absent-minded circles over your skin as though she was afraid that if she stopped, you’d vanish. 

The tension in her shoulders had eased just a fraction, enough that you could see the faintest cracks in the wall she always carried.

The café’s soft hum filled the silence – coffee machines hissing, a spoon clinking in a mug, the muted chatter of other tables. 

It felt strangely far away, as though the world had shrunk down to just this table, just her hand holding yours.

You exhaled, slow, steady. 

“So… maybe we don’t have to figure out everything right now,” you said gently. “We can just… start with this.”

Vi’s lips twitched into the barest smile. “Start with this, huh?”

You squeezed her hand, a little bolder now. “Yeah. Start with you not running every time you feel something.”

She gave a low laugh, the sound raw but warm, like she wasn’t used to letting herself laugh in moments like this. 

“No promises,” she muttered, but the way her thumb kept tracing your knuckles betrayed the truth. She was trying.

You tilted your head toward the door, your smile soft. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Her brows lifted, surprised. “What? Now?”

“Yes, now.” You stood, still holding her hand, tugging her gently out of the booth. 

She followed, like she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go.

As you both walked toward the door, Vi kept glancing down at your intertwined hands, her expression shifting – nervous, thoughtful, but every so often, her grip tightened, like she was reminding herself this was real.

The late afternoon air outside was crisp, carrying the faint smell of rain. 

The sky was heavy with clouds, but there was a strange brightness in the way she looked at you under the dim streetlights.

You slowed your steps, giving her the chance to let go if she wanted. 

But she didn’t. 

Instead, she shoved her free hand into her jacket pocket, shoulders hunched, as though embarrassed by how much she wanted to hold onto you.

Neither of you spoke at first. 

The silence wasn’t sharp anymore – it wasn’t heavy like before. 

It was tentative, fragile, the kind of quiet that came when two people were learning how to breathe together again.

Finally, Vi cleared her throat, her voice low. “You’re really not gonna let me screw this up, huh?”

You gave her a sidelong look, lips curling into a faint smile. “Not a chance.”

a/n: lowkey an ass ending but hopefully i'll write an epilogue when i can and im SO SORRY it took so DAMN long omfg im evil, but thank you so much for reading the series and showing support on my first ever series

taglist: @miffyscakes @sevikas-whore @draculu @autisticratbagtm @riotstemple29 @jupitism @mel6ncholixc @mariesmagix @tsujifreya @snuffphiliaa

FREAKYJORKER 2025 © all my work is my own, please do not translate, copy, or distribute any content without permission

i have a request!!

can you maybe do Vi or Sevika (I don't mind who you do) with a like, biiig people pleaser Reader? Like, when they have to choose something Reader always let the other choose, or when they argue, Reader is always like, say sorry for anything and yk, the people pleaser character😞

make it angst please, i need angst in my veins

thank you sm bby !!

Baby, I missed u in my inbox 😕🙁

you always give in first.

vi notices it most in the little things. what to eat, what route to take home, what movie to watch— your voice perks up in agreement before she’s even finished her sentence. “yeah, whatever you want,” you always say. it used to make her smile, like you were just easygoing, but now it nags at her chest.

because she’s never heard you say no. never heard you hold your ground.

and when you fight, when her temper flares hot and sharp, when her words cut too close, you’re the first to fold. “sorry, vi,” whispered through tears, even if she’s the one who hurt you. always apologising like your existence alone might be a burden.

tonight it breaks her.

“stop it!” vi snaps, pacing the small space of your bedroom, fists curling. “stop saying sorry! do you even mean it anymore?”

you flinch like she struck you, heart lodging in your throat. “i-i just don’t want to fight!”

“then fucking fight me back,” vi’s voice cracks, raw and pleading. “for once, don’t just roll over and take it. i need to know you’re here with me, not just some shadow that agrees with everything i say.”

your lip trembles. she looks like she’s about to shatter, hair disheveled, chest heaving, eyes burning with something that’s not anger, it’s fear.

“but what if you leave?” you whisper. it slips out before you can stop it, bare and small, the truth you’ve been holding down for months.

vi freezes.

you stare at the floor, nails digging into your palms. “if i make it hard, if i disagree, if i… stop saying sorry, what if you get tired and go?”

the silence is deafening.

and then her hands are on you, rough and shaking, holding your face like it’s the only thing keeping her together. “baby, no,” vi chokes out, forehead pressed to yours. “god, no. you don’t get it, do you? i’m not gonna leave because you have feelings. i’m gonna lose you if you don’t start showing them.”

your tears spill hot down your cheeks, her thumbs chasing them away.

“i want you,” she says, voice raw, breaking. “not some version of you that’s always scared of pushing me away. please… just be real with me. scream at me, tell me off, tell me no. just don’t disappear into yourself. i can’t love a ghost.”

«Sexting»

18+

It was entirely your fault.

You knew Vi was at the gym. You knew Vi would be sweaty, serious, locked into her kickboxing drills—focused, stoic and unreadable Vi. And yet, you couldn’t resist. You sprawled across your bed, phone in hand, and typed out the filthiest thought that had been circling your head all day.

"Hey, handsome. Thinking about how good your fingers feel inside me."

Send.

The second the message left your screen, you buried your face in your pillow. Your cheeks burned, but the thrill of knowing Vi was going to read it made you giggle like a little psycho.

Vi’s reply came almost instantly:

"Babe. I’m in the middle of practice."

You could picture it perfectly—Vi sitting on the bench, staring at her phone with that deadly flat expression that meant she was trying really hard not to react.

Which only made you worse.

"Bet you’re picturing it now. My legs open, waiting for you."

Your heart raced as you grinned at the glowing screen. The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

“Gotcha,” you whispered to yourself, smug. You knew Vi too well—your girl wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a damn thing after this.

You were still basking in your victory when your phone buzzed again. You unlocked it, expecting another annoyed 'Babe, stop'.

Instead, Vi snapped.

"You want me to fuck you so bad, baby? I’ll make you beg for it when I’m done here".

You sat up straight, mouth falling open, heart pounding so loud you swore you could hear it in your ears. Another text arrived before you could breathe:

"I’ll have you on your knees the second I get to your place. Think about how hard you’ll be shaking when I pull my strap out."

You squealed into your palms, kicking the blanket like some lovesick teenager. You tried to type something clever, something that would give you back control, but your thumbs shook as you wrote:

"Oh yeah? You’re all sweaty right now, aren’t you? Maybe I’ll make you beg first".

You hit send, proud of the cocky tone—until Vi’s reply came fast, sharp, and devastating:

"Bold words for my girl who moans the second I put my mouth on her. Keep teasing me, and see what happens."

You groaned, dropping your phone onto your chest. You were already in trouble. You knew Vi would win this, but your pride refused to let you back down.

"You’re full of shit. I can handle you".

The three dots blinked, taunting you. Then:

"Handle me? Baby, you can barely handle my fingers. You think you can take my strap rough again without crying for me?"

Heat shot through your body at once. Your thighs clenched around nothing, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek to stop a humiliating sound from slipping out.

You typed back quickly, desperate:

"Fuck you. I didn’t cry."

Vi’s reply came instantly, as if she’d been waiting:

"Yeah, you did. Sweetest little whimpers. I still hear them in my head when I jerk off to you."

Your hand flew to your mouth. Your face flamed, your whole body tight with embarrassment and arousal. Vi had just texted that so casually, like it was nothing. Like she didn’t know she was absolutely ruining you.

"Vi," you sent back—just her name, because it was all you could manage.

Vi didn’t let you breathe.

"Touching yourself already, baby? Bet you are. Bet you’ve got your hand down those little boxers, thinking about me pinning you down."

You glanced down at yourself—sprawled on the bed, phone on your chest—and, yeah, your hand was already tugging at your waistband like you were hypnotized.

Another buzz:

"Tell me you’re wet."

You hesitated, biting your lip, before typing back:

"I’m wet."

The response was immediate.

"Good girl. Don’t touch yet. I want you squirming until I get there."

You flopped back against your pillow with a groan, kicking your legs helplessly. Vi knew exactly what she was doing.

When you didn’t reply quickly enough, another message appeared:

"Baby, you’re mine. You don’t come until I’m the one making you."

You already felt wrecked—and Vi wasn’t even in the room.

pairing: Vi x f!reader

tags: explicit sexual content, sexting (kinda), drunk texts, possessiveness, teasing, 18+

⋆˚saori’s take: a little bit of what happened after this

You hadn’t told Vi how bad your day had been. How heavy it felt, how much your chest hurt just trying to keep it together. You didn’t want to burden her, didn’t want to ruin the easy smile she’d had when she came home. So you stayed quiet, let her kiss you, let her tug you toward the bed when the teasing got heavier.

The sex was rough, just the way you normally begged for — her with the strap, hands gripping your thighs, pushing you into the mattress until you were arching, crying, babbling out broken words. Usually, it was bliss. Tonight, though, every thrust only pulled the tears further out of you, not the good ones. You were overwhelmed, hurting in a different way, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say the word. You didn’t want to ruin it for her.

Your sobs got louder anyway.

Vi’s rhythm faltered. She stilled, strap buried deep inside you, and looked down at your face. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your lips trembling with a sob you tried to muffle against the sheets.

“Hey…hey, baby,” Vi’s voice dropped instantly, all the roughness gone. One of her hands left your hip, brushing your hair back, trying to tilt your chin up. “look at me. What’s goin’ on?”

You shook your head, ashamed, hiccuping through little gasps. “I-I’m sorry, Vi! i’m sorry i just, I didn’t wanna—”

“Oh, peach…” she pulled out immediately, tossing the harness aside like it meant nothing. In seconds she was gathering you into her arms, lifting you up into her lap like you weighed nothing. You clung to her, sobbing into her shoulder.

“You don’t ever have to apologise to me for this,” she whispered, kissing the top of your head, then your temple, then your damp cheeks. Each kiss was softer than the last. “I’d stop everything the second I think you’re not okay. You know that, right?”

You nodded weakly against her, fingers clutching at her shirt. She held you tighter, rocking you gently.

“I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

She laid you back against the pillows, but only to crawl in beside you, curling her body around yours. She draped the blanket over both of you, still pressing small, frantic kisses to your face, your nose, your jaw.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice sooner,” she murmured, brushing your tears away with her thumbs. “Next time, you tell me, yeah? Don’t care if it ruins the mood. You matter more than all of that.”

Her words made your throat ache all over again, but you nodded, sniffling. Vi kissed your lips— slow, gentle, nothing like earlier.

“You’re safe now,” she promised against your mouth. “No more rough stuff tonight. Just cuddles, just me takin’ care of you.”

When the first trace of tear appeared in your eyes, Vi stopped and pulled back instantly, her strap still buried so deep in your pussy that it made your lower abdomen cramp with subtle pain, you sniffle. "Baby, shit— fuck— I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?" Vi gently pulled out, undoing the strap and throwing it amongst the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. "Can I get you anything at all? Heat compress? A towel? Can I clean you up?" Vi begins listing out every possible thing she can do to make sure you aren't hurting anymore.

"Just stay..." You croak with your hand outstretched. Vi's muscular arms quickly encircle around you, "right here, baby," she leans in and lets you hold her there in your loose embrace, "just hurt a little, didnt wanna be overdramatic," you whisper against her ear before burying your face in her skin and sniffling a little. "Never overdramatic, baby," Vi assures, "I'm proud of you for tellin’ me."

You smile weakly against her skin, "can we cuddle for the rest of the night?" You pause, "I'm sorry, I didn't wanna ruin the mood." Vi pulls back from the hug and cups your face, "you didn't ruin anything," she kisses your forehead, "never hide away from me, baby." Your chest blooms with happiness and you lean into her, "mmmm, I love you, baby..."

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋!𝐕𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Lovergirl!Vi who definitely sniffs around your room not exactly in the perverted way but she's just addicted to the soft floral perfume that you use everywhere. She will sniff your pillow, bedding and even stay inside your closet claiming she felt safe in there.

Lovergirl!Vi who brings you little trinkets every day when she goes out to work and comes back with your favourite snacks at least thrice a week because “you deserve to get spoiled” as she says.

Lovergirl!Vi who loves learning the little things like pottery to make you a replica of a mug you broke by accident or jewelry making so she can make the engagement rings for when she proposes.

Lovergirl!Vi who has definitely sold something of her own in the past, to trade it with something that you've eyed long enough for her heart to ache, knowing you didn't have what you wanted.

Lovergirl!Vi who enjoys the entire domestic routine of cooking breakfast for you while she listens to the playlist that you've made for her (She also cuts out fruits in little shapes for you).

CROSS YOUR MIND!

CHAPTER EIGHT : DISTANT AND DISTRACTED

pairing: au paramedic!vi x er nurse!reader

cw: you realize who's cookie you want so effing bad

4.9k words

series directory

“Thought I’d find you here.”

The voice comes from behind you: low, steady, and unmistakably familiar.

You nearly drop the stack of papers you were holding..

When you turn, Sevika is leaning against the doorframe of the break room like she owns it, one hand shoved casually into her jacket pocket, the other draped loose at her side. The gray Henley she’s wearing looks lived-in but fits her perfectly, and the faint curl of a smirk plays across her lips like she knows exactly what kind of reaction she’s pulling from you.

“Sevika?” you blurt, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of her standing here of all places. 

“What the hell? How do you even-?”

“I’ve got my ways.” She pushes off the frame, steps into the room. 

The fluorescent lights catch on her hair, her sharp jawline. 

“Guess you could say fate’s giving us a second shot.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

Because you haven’t seen her since that night at the bar, when she slid her number across the napkin with a line smooth enough to replay in your head on loop, even if you told yourself you wouldn’t. 

You hadn’t texted. 

You told yourself it was stupid to even consider it.

And yet here she is. 

In your break room.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she adds, grin widening. “Hospitals aren’t exactly fortresses. People come and go all the time.”

You blink, still trying to catch up. “You… don’t just wander into ER staff lounges, Sevika. That’s not—”

“Relax.” She shrugs, utterly unbothered. “I’m not here to cause trouble. Just visiting a friend upstairs. Thought I’d stop by, see if you were around.” 

Her eyes flick over you, steady and unashamed, like she’s drinking in every detail of your scrubs, the tired slump of your shoulders, the stray wisps of hair clinging to your forehead. 

“Lucky me.”

Before you can answer, another voice pipes up—smug, delighted, absolutely eating this whole scene alive.

“Well, well, well.”

You whip around to see Maddie perched on the counter like she’s been waiting for this all morning, a bag of pretzels in hand, eyes sparkling with mischief. “If it isn’t our firefighter mystery woman.”

Sevika raises a brow, amused. “Maddie, right?”

“Wow. She remembers me.” Maddie pops a pretzel into her mouth, swinging her legs. “So what brings you down to our humble little ER? Other than stalking my girl here, obviously.”

You groan. “Maddie-”

“What? I’m just asking the questions everyone’s thinking.” She waves you off like you’re background noise, her grin only widening. 

“Honestly, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d actually show up, Sevika.”

Heat creeps up your neck. “Maddie!”

Sevika chuckles under her breath, low and warm, and you hate the way it makes your stomach flip. “Persistent friends you’ve got,” she says, eyes never leaving yours.

You’re going to murder Maddie later. Slowly. Painfully.

“Anyway,” Maddie continues, clearly ignoring your glare, “you’ve got her cornered now, so go ahead. Shoot your shot! I’ll just–” She waves a hand vaguely. “--observe.”

You put your face in your hands.

Sevika doesn’t hesitate. 

She leans her weight on one side, crossing her arms, casual in a way that makes it obvious she’s anything but. “Alright then,” she says smoothly, “I’ll get to the point. What time are you off?”

The question lands like a weight in your chest.

You look up sharply. “What?”

Her grin widens just a fraction. “Your shift. When’s it done?”

Maddie nearly chokes on a pretzel.

“Oh my god,” she wheezes, hand clapping over her mouth. “She’s not even pretending to be subtle!”

“Maddie, out.” You point at the door with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“No way; I am not missing this.” She hops off the counter, but instead of leaving, she circles closer, like a cat waiting for something juicy. “Do you hear this? She just waltzes in here, looking like she walked off a damn recruitment poster, and asks you out right in the middle of your shift!”

“Not asking her out.” Sevika’s tone is smooth and controlled, but there’s a spark of amusement in her eyes that says she knows exactly what she’s doing. “Just asking when she’s free. If that happens to lead somewhere... well.” She shrugs, slow and deliberate. “We’ll see.”

You can’t breathe. Your pulse hammers in your throat.

Because it’s too much, too bold, too sudden—and yet, Maddie’s voice is whispering at the back of your mind, words from the other week still fresh: 

 And maybe she's not your forever person, but at least she sees you

Your hands tighten around the papers from before – long neglected now.

“I…” The word sticks in your throat.

Sevika tilts her head, watching you closely. 

Patient, but confident, like she already knows you’ll say yes.

Maddie nudges your elbow like the world’s most obnoxious wingwoman.

You shoot her a look that promises violence.

She grins back.

You drag in a breath, ready to answer—or at least stall—but before the words can form, the doors to the ER burst open with a crash of wheels and shouting.

“Coming through! GSW to the abdomen, mid-twenties male, vitals unstable—”

The break room shudders with the sudden flood of noise. Nurses, techs, and a doctor surge past, following the stretcher as it barrels down the hall, as if they weren't just listening in on Sevika's grand gesture.

And right behind them—hands firm on the gurney rail, hair mussed from movement, voice raised to call vitals—is Vi.

Your chest stutters.

Her presence fills the hallway instantly, commanding, steady, and sharp. 

She doesn’t even glance your way at first, too focused on barking out numbers and updates. 

But once the patient’s through the trauma bay doors and the chaos begins to swallow itself, she slows. 

Her eyes flick up, sweeping the hall—and land right on you through the windows looking into the break room.

On you.

And on Sevika, now standing close enough that her shoulder almost brushes yours.

The weight of her stare nearly knocks the breath out of you.

Sevika notices too. 

You can see it in the slight curl of her mouth, the way her body shifts subtly closer, as if to stake a silent claim.

She doesn’t look at Vi when she speaks again. 

She looks at you.

“So?” she asks, voice smooth, steady. “When do you get a break?”

Your throat is dry. You’re still scrambling for something—anything—to say when Vi steps back into view.

She doesn’t have the gurney anymore; the trauma bay swallowed it whole, leaving the other team to handle the incoming chaos. 

Normally, she’d peel off, grab a chart, reset before the next call. 

But today? 

She lingers in the hall.

And she sees you.

She sees Sevika, too, and her eyes narrow just slightly, like the lines between them don’t make sense but she knows enough to hate it.

You’ve worked with Vi long enough to read her tells: the twitch of her jaw when she’s biting back words, the flex of her hands when she wants to act but doesn’t. 

Right now, both are on full display.

“Vi,” you manage once she enters the tension-filled room, your voice softer than you intend.

She doesn’t answer right away. 

Instead, she wipes a streak of blood from her forearm with a disposable towel, tossing it into the nearest bin with a little more force than necessary. 

“You should be prepping for another call,” she says finally, her tone flat, too even. “Dispatch is sending in a motor vehicle rollover.”

“I know,” you say quickly. You straighten, guilty for reasons you can’t even name. “I was just—”

“Sorry there, Vanessa, right?” Sevika cuts in smoothly, leaning one elbow against the counter like she’s staking claim to the ground beneath her. “Didn’t mean to keep her from the job, though. Just catching up.”

Vi’s gaze slices to her, sharp as broken glass. “Didn’t know you were in the habit of hanging around hospitals you don’t work at.”

The jab is subtle, but pointed.

Sevika takes it in stride. 

Her smirk doesn’t falter, if anything it deepens, like she’s amused Vi bothered to acknowledge her at all. “Didn’t know you were in the habit of policing who your coworkers talk to on their own time?”

Your stomach drops.

Maddie, of course, is living for this. 

She’s practically perched on the edge of the counter like she’s front row at a play, eyes darting between the two women like she’s waiting for sparks to fly.

You shoot her a warning glare. 

Don’t.

She raises her brows innocently, but her grin gives her away.

Vi crosses her arms, the muscles in her forearms tense under the roll of her sleeves. 

“We’ve got work to do,” she says, though her eyes don’t leave Sevika.

“Then don’t let me keep you,” Sevika replies, her voice silk over steel.

The air between them crackles.

You feel like you’re standing in the middle of a storm, lightning about to strike no matter which direction you move.

“I should–” you start, but your words catch when Sevika shifts her attention back to you, deliberate, slow, like Vi isn’t even worth acknowledging anymore.

Her voice softens just slightly when she speaks. “Seriously. When’s your break? Thirty minutes? An hour? I’ll buy you a coffee. Hell, a whole dinner if you’re off shift soon.”

It’s too much. 

Too sudden. 

But the confidence in her tone makes it feel natural, like saying no would take more effort than saying yes.

Maddie claps a hand over her mouth to muffle what sounds suspiciously like a squeal.

You glance at her, panicked, only to find her eyes practically screaming: Say yes. For god’s sake, SAY YES.

Your heart hammers in your chest. 

Because the last few days, no, weeks with Vi have been nothing but silence, walls, and distance—and now Sevika is standing here, open, unashamed, offering attention without hesitation.

And Vi?

You risk a glance at her. She’s still standing there, stiff as stone, her jaw tight, her eyes trained on you like she’s trying to solve a puzzle she doesn’t want to admit is unsolvable.

But she doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t step in.

She just watches.

Something inside you twists.

You remember Maddie’s words: You deserve someone who’s not going to treat you like you can be more one second and a ghost the next.

And maybe Maddie’s right.

Maybe chasing after someone who keeps pulling away is stupid. 

Maybe you deserve someone who doesn’t make you guess, who doesn’t make you wonder if the warmth you felt was all in your head.

But still, some traitorous part of you aches for Vi to say something—anything—to stop you.

“Break in fifteen,” You finally say, answering her question.

Her grin curves, slow and certain. “I’ll wait.”

The words lodge in your chest like a hook.

Maddie exhales a victorious little hum.

Vi turns away, mutters something under her breath you don’t catch, and stalks off toward the ER drop-off, her boots loud against the linoleum.

The silence she leaves behind is suffocating.

Sevika doesn’t seem to notice. 

Or maybe she does and doesn’t care. 

She gives you one last look. “See you in fifteen,” she says, and then she’s gone, leaving you with Maddie practically vibrating beside you.

Fifteen minutes.

That’s what Sevika said, like it was already written in stone.

The words chase you through the next round of charting, every beep of the monitors, every overhead call for staff. 

They settle under your skin, prickling with heat until you can’t tell if you’re restless or just guilty.

Because she’s out there. 

Waiting.

And Maddie knows it.

“You realize,” Maddie starts as she hovers too close to your desk, “that if you don’t at least go for a coffee, I’m going to physically drag you out there myself.”

You glare at her without lifting your head from the chart. “You’re supposed to be working.”

“I am working,” she shoots back, all faux-innocence. “Working to make sure you don’t ruin your life by being tragically, stupidly loyal to someone who clearly doesn’t—”

“Stop.” The word comes out sharper than you mean.

Maddie blinks, taken aback for half a second. 

But then she softens, her tone dipping quieter, more careful. 

“I’m just saying… don’t you think you deserve someone who actually fights for you?”

Your pen stills against the paper.

You don’t want to answer her. 

Because you know what she’s really saying. 

She’s saying Vi isn’t fighting. 

Not for you, not anymore.

But it isn’t that simple.

It never is.

Vi has her own walls, her own mess she carries in her chest. 

You’ve seen glimpses of what it costs her: those late nights in the ambulance bay, her head tipped back against the metal door, her breaths ragged but silent. 

She doesn’t talk about it, doesn’t let anyone see. 

But you’ve seen.

And wasn’t that worth something? 

Wasn’t patience part of loving someone?

Your throat tightens.

“Fifteen minutes,” Maddie reminds you, sing-song this time, like she’s trying to tug you toward the inevitable. “Don’t overthink it. Coffee isn’t a marriage proposal.”

“Coffee is a line,” you whisper, too low for anyone else to hear.

Maddie tilts her head. “Or it’s a start.”

You want to argue, but the overhead call pulls you away: a code blue two halls down. 

Your pulse spikes, your body shifting into autopilot as you rush toward it. 

The next ten minutes are a blur of compressions, epinephrine, and voices barking orders over each other, until the steady beep of a pulse returns and the adrenaline leaves you shaky but standing.

And then it hits you—there are no more excuses.

Your break is here.

Though, it has been more than the 15 minutes you promised, Sevika.

Maybe she's lost hope.

Maybe she's left and all's said and done.

You wash your hands longer than necessary, staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink. 

Your face looks exhausted. Maybe a word stronger than it.

You wonder if Sevika will notice.

You wonder if Vi did.

The thought stings.

When you step back into the hall, Maddie is waiting. 

Of course she is. 

She bounces on her heels like she’s the one about to sneak off for a date.

“Well?” she asks.

You don’t answer. 

Not out loud. 

But the way you walk past her, toward the sliding glass doors at the end of the corridor, is answer enough.

Maddie lets out a victory whisper-shout behind you. “Finally.”

You almost turn back. Almost. But the sight waiting outside stops you cold.

Because Sevika is still there.

She’s leaning against the wall just outside the ambulance bay doors, one hand tucked into her jacket pocket, the other holding a disposable cup of coffee she hasn’t touched. 

Her posture is relaxed, but there’s a tension underneath it, like even standing still is an act of control.

And when her eyes lift to find you, there’s no mistaking it—she’s been waiting for you. Not passing time. Not scrolling on a phone. Just… waiting.

Something in your chest flips.

“Hey,” she says, easy. “Took you long enough.”

“I—there was a code,” you say, breathless in more ways than one.

Her mouth quirks. “Thats okay, saving people is sort of in the job description.”

You want to roll your eyes, but the warmth in her voice keeps you still.

She pushes off the wall and holds out the coffee. “Figured you could use this more than me.”

You hesitate only a second before taking it. 

The cup is warm, the steam curling into the night air.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” She studies you for a beat, her gaze steady but not intrusive. “Rough shift?”

You shrug, sipping. “Aren’t they all?”

That earns you a quiet chuckle.

And god, when was the last time someone made it feel this easy?

Not effortless—you don’t kid yourself; nothing about Sevika is effortless—but simple. 

Direct. No guessing, no silence, no waiting around for the other shoe to drop.

She wants your time, so she asks for it.

She wants you here, so she waits.

And for a moment, that clarity feels like oxygen after drowning.

But then, behind your ribs, the guilt curls tight again.

Because if you close your eyes, you can still see Vi’s face when she walked away. 

The way her jaw clenched, the silence heavy enough to suffocate. 

She didn’t stop you. She didn’t fight for you. But the ache in your chest says you still wish she had.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” Sevika says, breaking into your spiral.

You huff out a laugh, quiet. “Occupational hazard.”

“Well, think about this instead.” She leans a little closer, enough that the smell of smoke and leather clings to the air between you. “You and me. One hour. No beepers, no interruptions. Just a meal and maybe a drink. What do you say?”

Your heart thunders.

Still, you smile and nod in agreement.

The café is quiet, tucked into a corner two blocks away from the hospital. Warm light glows through tall windows, and the hum of conversation fills the air. 

It should feel like an escape, a chance to shake off the weight of the ER, but you can’t quite loosen the knot in your chest.

Sevika notices.

She noticed the second you slid into the booth across from her, still in scrubs, coffee cup clutched like a lifeline. 

She let you talk about the case, let you vent about Maddie’s scheming, even let you go quiet when the words ran out. But through it all, her eyes stayed steady on you, watching. Measuring.

Now, after the server drops off plates neither of you have touched, she leans back, metal arm resting against the table with a low clink.

“You’re not here,” she says simply.

The words land heavier than you expect.

Your fingers curl around the edge of your cup. “I’m here.”

Sevika arches a brow. “Physically, yeah. But your head? That’s somewhere else.”

You drop your gaze, ashamed.

She sighs, not unkindly. “I’m not mad. Just calling it how I see it.”

You don’t know what to say. Because she’s right.

Even here, across from someone who is bold enough to show up, to wait, to ask, you feel the ghost of Vi’s silence hovering in the space between you. 

Every laugh you almost share with Sevika is weighed down by the memory of Vi’s guarded smile. Every time Sevika leans in, you feel the distance Vi left.

It’s not fair. To Sevika, to you, to anyone.

Sevika studies you for a long moment before she speaks again, her tone quieter, more careful than you’ve ever heard from her. “You know… when I walked into that bar, I thought maybe the timing was finally right. You looked at me like I wasn’t just another story with an ending already written. You looked at me like I could be something more.”

Your throat tightens.

“I really wish I could have a shot here, a real one,” she continues, voice low and steady. “But it’s pretty clear I’m not the one you’re going to choose.”

“Sev..”

She lifts her hand, stopping you, but there’s no anger in it. 

Just resignation. Maybe even gentleness.

“Hey. It’s alright. I get it. Some people… they just get under your skin and don’t leave, no matter what anyone else does.” Her mouth twists in something that isn’t quite a smile. “And I can’t compete with that. Wouldn’t want to.”

The words ache, even though they’re true.

Sevika leans back, exhaling slowly. Then, softer: “Maybe in another life, I could’ve been your home.”

The silence that follows is heavy, but not suffocating. It feels like grief, shared between you both.

You want to tell her she is a home—sturdy, warm, steady—but you can’t lie. Not when she’s already read you so well.

Her gaze finds yours again, steady as ever. “But this life? You’ve got someone waiting. Whether she’s good at showing it or not.”

You blink, startled. “Vi—”

“Yeah.” Sevika’s lips quirk, but there’s no bite to it. “Don’t let her slip away before you even give her the chance. Trust me—regret doesn’t sit easy. Not for her, not for you. And not for me.”

The vulnerability in her voice makes your chest ache.

You swallow hard. “Why are you… why are you telling me this?”

“Because I like you.” The words come blunt, without hesitation. “Enough to not want to be the mistake you make while you’re still looking over your shoulder.”

Your breath hitches.

Sevika pushes her untouched plate aside, reaching for her jacket. “C’mon. Let’s get you back before someone notices you’re gone.”

It should sting—that she’s cutting the night short, that this isn’t turning into the distraction Maddie probably hoped for. But instead, all you feel is a strange kind of gratitude.

Because Sevika could’ve tried harder. Could’ve pulled you further away. Instead, she let you go before you could break something neither of you could fix.

Walking back to the hospital, the air is cooler, crisp against your face. 

Neither of you speaks. 

The silence is easy, respectful. Final.

When you reach the doors, Sevika stops. “Listen.”

You turn.

“Don’t wait for her to figure it out on her own. Don’t wait until you’re both too far gone. Tell her what you need. Tell her what you want.” Her eyes soften, the faintest hint of something wistful there. “And if she’s smart, she’ll fight for you.”

Your chest feels too tight, but you manage a nod.

Sevika smirks faintly, tilting her head. “Go on. Break’s over.”

And then she’s gone, walking into the night without looking back, leaving you standing in the glow of the hospital lights, your heart heavy but clearer than it’s been in months.

The hospital smells the same as it always does, a mixture of antiseptic, coffee, and something vaguely metallic that always seemed to cling to the corners of the ER. But today, it hits you differently. Coming back from your break, your steps feel heavier, though your heart is strangely lighter.

Maddie is already there when you return, leaning against the counter with one elbow propped, like she’s been holding this space open just for you. Her grin falters slightly when she sees the look on your face, the way you carry the weight of what just happened like a backpack overloaded with unspoken words.

“So…?” she starts, tilting her head, clearly bracing herself for a story. “How was coffee with… big mama?”

You pause, gripping the strap of your bag, breathing through the clatter of trays and rolling gurneys. “It’s not gonna work with Sevika,” you say bluntly.

Maddie freezes for just a fraction of a second, like she didn’t expect such finality. Then her eyes narrow, studying you carefully. “Why?” she asks, leaning forward.

“You know why, Maddie,” you reply, flat and calm. The words aren’t loud, but there’s an undeniable weight to them.

Maddie’s lips twitch into a small, knowing smile. She nods, slow, deliberate. That’s it. That’s all she needs. She can see it: the certainty that finally rests in your shoulders, the way your chest doesn’t feel like it’s tethered between two possibilities anymore. Relief washes over her face, her grin widening just a little.

“Damn Vi and her nonchalantness,” she says, almost to herself. “But thank god you’re the opposite.”

You allow yourself a tiny smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes fully. 

Maddie leans back, giving you space, though her eyes never leave you. “You know what this is good,” she murmurs. “Because this? This is what it looks like when someone has eyes on the prize!"

You hum, a noncommittal sound, though inside, your chest feels a little lighter. 

There’s clarity here, a line drawn in the sand, and it feels like a small victory.

Work picks up again immediately. Patients flood in like tides, the monitors beep, and the alarms ring. 

You’re thrust back into the rhythm of the ER, your hands moving on autopilot while your mind drifts, replaying Sevika’s soft smile, her gentle nudges, and the way she gave you the space to breathe without demanding anything. You know you’ve been lucky — rare, even — to have someone so open, someone willing to lay themselves bare in a world that often thrives on distance.

But luck isn’t what you want. 

You don’t want easy or predictable. 

You want Vi.

You catch glimpses of her as the day unfolds, across the hall, moving a gurney with practiced efficiency, giving instructions with clipped authority. She doesn’t look at you. Not once. And every time your eyes meet briefly in passing, she looks away first, boots tapping a rhythm that echoes in your chest.

It hurts, but differently now. 

Less like confusion, more like longing tempered by choice. 

Maddie checks in intermittently, hovering like a hawk disguised as a friend. “So… What exactly did you think about?” she asks casually during a lull in patient intake.

You shake your head, not lifting your eyes from the chart you’re filling out. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” she teases, leaning over so her shoulder bumps yours. “Grumpy Paramedic! Did Vi cross your mind while you were with Sevika? Or was it a decision when you got here?”

“Yes,” you admit quietly, and Maddie freezes for just a second. Then she tilts her head, curious.

“And?” she presses.

You raise a brow, knowing that she already knows the answer.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you mutter, letting a small laugh slip.

“Maybe,” she admits, shrugging with mock innocence. 

“But seriously, you’ve been carrying this indecision like a patient with a massive IV line dangling off their shoulder. Finally letting go? That’s progress, my friend.”

The rest of the shift drags by in a blur of adrenaline, paperwork, and controlled chaos. 

Each time Vi passes through, your stomach twists. 

She’s distant, distracted, professional. She doesn’t speak to you beyond the necessities. 

She doesn’t give the casual warmth you’ve come to rely on. And every time, it stings. But now, it also clarifies something you hadn’t fully admitted to yourself: her absence doesn’t make you flounder anymore. It makes you ache, yes, but it also reinforces the reason you have to make your choices clearly.

The end of the shift approaches, and you take a moment in the supply closet to breathe, leaning against the cool metal shelves. Maddie’s voice echoes faintly outside, still comforting, still hovering.

“Don’t worry,” she calls softly. “She'll figure it out.”

You close your eyes for a second, letting the hum of the hospital wash over you.

Vi passes again, pushing a gurney down the hall while you leave. 

She’s focused, efficient, but even from a distance, you notice a subtle tension in her shoulders, a tightness you’ve seen before but can’t place today. 

She doesn’t acknowledge you.

Doesn’t even glance your way. 

And yet… it fuels something inside you, a quiet, smoldering determination.

By the time you step inside your apartment, the familiar smells and soft lighting do little to ground you. You set down your bag, shrug out of your coat, and slump onto the couch. Coffee in hand, you stare at the ceiling, letting the day and everything that happened settle around you.

You pull your notebook toward you, pen poised over the page. Maybe it’s silly, maybe it’s futile, but you start scribbling ideas on how to talk to Vi. 

How to start the conversation without sounding desperate. How to make her see what she means to you, without scaring her away. 

You erase lines, cross out phrases, start again, over and over, because there’s no perfect way to capture months of unspoken words and growing feelings.

Hours pass. The quiet of your apartment amplifies every thought, every memory, every ache. 

You try to imagine how she’ll respond, how to handle silence, how to bridge the distance she’s put between you both. It’s exhausting, but also… necessary.

Then, your phone buzzes.

You glance at it, expecting a routine notification. Instead, it’s an unknown number. The text reads:

“Hey… is everything ok? It’s me, Jinx. I, uh… borrowed your number off Vi’s phone. Don’t freak. But she’s been… off. Distant. Not herself. I was wondering if you know anything?"

Your chest lurches.

You stare at the message for a moment, unsure if you’re relieved or panicked. 

Vi’s been acting distant… she noticed, too, and now Jinx has reached out. You inhale sharply.

Finally, you tap the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Then, slowly, you type:

“I like your sister. A lot. And I don’t know if I’ve messed things up.”

You hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

a/n: finally we can crack!!

taglist: @miffyscakes @sevikas-whore @draculu @autisticratbagtm @riotstemple29 @jupitism @mel6ncholixc @mariesmagix @tsujifreya @snuffphiliaa

FREAKYJORKER 2025 © all my work is my own, please do not translate, copy, or distribute any content without permission

CROSS YOUR MIND!

CHAPTER SIX : EYES ON YOU

pairing: au paramedic!vi x er nurse!reader

cw: yay getting close with vi! oh no new character comes in the way..

3.5k words

series directory

The lights in the break room always seem harsher at noon, bouncing off stainless steel counters and scuffed tile. The coffee pot sputters weakly, fighting for its last drops, and Maddie’s already perched at the edge of the table like she’s about to make an announcement.

You slide into the seat across from her, peeling open the sad excuse for a sandwich you packed, when you notice the way she’s grinning. 

Wide. 

Mischievous. 

Like she’s about to cause trouble.

Ekko plops down beside you, tray in hand, and Mel trails in right after, shaking her head like she knows exactly what’s coming.

“Alright, listen up,” Maddie says, smacking her palms on the table for emphasis. “We’re going out tonight.”

You blink. “Out?”

“Yes, out,” Maddie says with dramatic flair. “As in, not here, not this depressing break room, and definitely not staring at each other over charts. A real bar. Drinks. Music. Laughter. The whole package.”

Ekko immediately perks up. “Hell yeah. I’m in. Been dying for a night out.”

Mel lets out a dry laugh as she grabs her yogurt from the fridge. “You’ll regret it when you’re hungover during rounds tomorrow.”

“Future me’s problem,” Ekko says, waving her off.

Maddie’s eyes sweep the table, landing squarely on you. “You’re coming.”

You almost choke on your bite of sandwich. “I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t have to,” Maddie says, smug. “I can see it in your eyes. You need this. And if you’re gonna start protesting, just know I’m prepared to bully you into it.”

Mel chuckles into her spoon. “She’s serious. She’ll wear you down.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can formulate a decent excuse, Maddie’s gaze flicks to the doorway. “Oh, perfect timing.”

You don’t have to look to know who just walked in — the shift in the air gives her away before her boots even hit the linoleum.

Vi.

She heads for the fridge with that same steady gait, expression unreadable, broad shoulders set like she’s bracing for impact from the day already. She’s halfway through unscrewing the cap off a water bottle when Maddie pounces.

“Hey, Vi,” Maddie calls sweetly. Too sweetly.

Vi glances over, brow raised. “Yeah?”

“You’re coming out with us tonight.”

It’s not a question. Maddie delivers it like an order, like she’s daring Vi to argue.

Vi stares at her, unimpressed. “I don’t really do bars.”

“Exactly,” Maddie says. “Which is why you should.”

Vi twists the cap back on her water, clearly ready to shut the whole conversation down — until Maddie drops the bomb.

“Your favourite nurse is coming!”

The words hang heavy for a second. You freeze mid-bite, pulse kicking up.

Vi’s eyes flick to you, just a flash of steel blue across the room, and then she’s looking back at Maddie with a shrug that seems too casual. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma'am,” Maddie confirms. “And, I mean, she probably won't come unless you do.”

“Maddie-” you start, mortified.

But Maddie just beams. “What? It’s true. You two are like… a set. You work together half the time, you show up to shifts at the same time, you even eat lunch in the same damn hour. If Vi bails, you’ll bail. If you bail, Vi will… brood or something.”

Ekko’s laughing into his sandwich now, while Mel just shakes her head like she’s given up trying to stop this trainwreck.

Vi leans back against the counter, bottle in hand, studying Maddie like she’s deciding whether to bother correcting her. Then, to your surprise, she huffs a quiet laugh.

“Fine,” she says simply.

Your head snaps toward her. “Wait, really?”

Vi takes a slow sip of water, gaze flicking to yours again, more deliberate this time. “Yeah. Why not.”

And just like that, Maddie’s triumphant grin takes over her whole face. “Good. Settled. Tonight, all of us–" she claps her hands together proudly, then looks at you pointedly "–And don’t you dare show up in scrubs! I expect effort.”

Heat creeps up your neck. “Why am I the one getting singled out?”

“Because,” Maddie says, pointing her fork at you like it’s a weapon, “you’re the one who’s gonna get us free drinks. Just trust me.”

Ekko wiggles his brows, smirking. “Ohhh, she’s right. You clean up nicely, don’t you?”

You shove him with your elbow, muttering under your breath. Mel rolls her eyes but can’t hide the smirk tugging at her mouth.

Across the room, Vi’s still leaning against the counter, watching the chaos play out like she’s amused but trying not to show it. When your eyes catch hers again, she doesn’t look away this time.

It’s brief. Subtle. But it’s there — that flicker of something that makes your chest tighten.

Maddie claps her hands once. “It’s a date!”

You choke. Vi’s brow twitches.

Mel groans. “For the love of- Maddie, stop phrasing things like that.”

But Maddie’s already hopping off the table, victorious. “See you all tonight.”

And just like that, your lunch break’s ruined — because now all you can think about is what the hell you’re supposed to wear, and why the thought of Vi being there makes your stomach flip like this.

You spend the rest of your shift pretending the break room conversation didn’t happen, but the promise of it follows you around like a shadow. 

Every chart you sign, every patient you check in on, every time Vi’s name pops up on the board beside yours.

And when the end of your shift finally rolls around, you head home with the kind of restless energy that refuses to be ignored.

Your apartment feels too quiet when you walk in, the kind of silence that makes you acutely aware of yourself. 

The kind of silence that leaves you staring at your closet longer than you should, realizing that Maddie’s words have wormed their way into your head.

“Don’t you dare show up in scrubs. I expect effort.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands for a second before dragging them down and facing the racks of clothing. 

Scrubs are safe. 

Scrubs are comfortable. 

Scrubs are neutral.

But scrubs don’t make entrances.

And Maddie was right about one thing:  you kind of want to make one tonight. Not for her. Not even for the rest of your coworkers.

For a certain paramedic.

You yank a couple of options out and throw them on the bed and promptly flop down on the mattress beside them with a frustrated sigh.

It’s ridiculous, you tell yourself. It’s just a night out. Just coworkers grabbing drinks. Just a bar.

But your stomach’s already tight, because you can’t get rid of the image of Vi at the break room counter, water bottle in hand, glancing your way like it meant something. Like she was deciding right then and there that she’d go if you did.

And now you’re stuck here, obsessing over whether she’ll notice what you’re wearing, if she’ll care, if she’ll even look long enough to—

You cut yourself off, groaning again as you flop backward onto the bed.

Hopeless. Maddie’s cursed you.

Eventually, you settle on something in-between. Something that fits just right, something thats enough to look intentional–enough to feel like effort.

You pull it all on, standing in front of the mirror, tugging at the neckline of your top like it’ll suddenly tell you if you’ve made the right choice. 

You look like you. But polished. A little sharper around the edges.

Your reflection doesn’t answer the question that matters most, though. Will she notice?

You shake your head hard, pulling away from the mirror before you spiral. It’s not about that. It’s about Maddie dragging you out so you don’t rot in your apartment. It’s about letting loose for one night, not thinking about shifts and rounds and the weight of things you can’t fix.

You tell yourself that twice while styling your hair. Three times while putting on makeup. A fourth while tugging on your jacket.

But when you grab your keys, you catch yourself glancing at your phone — wondering if Vi’s already there, wondering if she’ll even be looking for you.

…

The bar’s not far, but your nerves build with every block you walk. The muffled thump of music leaks out onto the street by the time you spot the neon sign. Your pulse spikes, palms damp against your jacket.

You pause outside, telling yourself you’re just catching your breath, adjusting your bag strap, anything to avoid admitting you’re hesitating.

They’re just coworkers. It’s just a bar. Stop being ridiculous.

The first thing you notice when you step inside is the sound. It hits you like a wall — music pulsing low through speakers, laughter bouncing off the walls, the clatter of glasses and the hum of conversation weaving together into something chaotic and alive.

The second thing is how warm it is compared to the night air. Your jacket suddenly feels like overkill, so you shrug it off as you scan the room.

It doesn’t take long to spot your coworkers. 

Maddie’s laugh carries, bright and unmistakable, pulling your eyes to a booth tucked toward the back. She’s waving wildly, as if you’d somehow miss her otherwise, and the table’s already crowded with familiar faces. A couple of paramedics are there too, badges still clipped to their belts, and you recognize some of the nurses from other units.

But you don’t see Vi at first.

And for some reason, that sends a strange flicker of disappointment through you, sharp enough that you almost trip on your own boots crossing the room.

Then she turns in her seat.

She’s sitting near the end of the booth, one arm draped over the back of it, posture relaxed in that way only she seems to pull off. Her hair’s pulled back, jawline sharper in the dim light, and she’s wearing a black jacket over a fitted t-shirt that shouldn’t be distracting but somehow is. 

Her eyes catch yours across the space, and you swear the noise around you dulls for a second.

Just a second.

It’s Maddie who breaks the spell, calling your name loud enough that a couple tables look over. “Finally! I thought you ditched us.”

“I almost did,” you shoot back, forcing a laugh as you squeeze into the booth. 

You slide into the open space across from Vi, trying to play it casual, trying not to look like you noticed the way she’s still watching you.

“Ditch us looking like that?” Maddie whistles, giving an exaggerated once-over that makes heat crawl up your neck. “No chance. Damn, I should’ve dressed better. You make the rest of us look lazy.”

There’s a ripple of teasing from the group, but your focus slips back to Vi. She hasn’t said anything yet, but the corner of her mouth twitches like she’s holding back a smile.

You clear your throat, grabbing a menu even though you’re not really reading it. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Not even a little,” Maddie fires back. “Tell her, Vi.”

Your stomach flips. You glance up, and Vi’s gaze locks with yours across the table.

She shrugs, casual in tone but not in the way her eyes linger. “She’s not wrong.”

The words are simple. Barely more than a compliment. But something about the way she says it, like it’s obvious, like she doesn’t even have to think about it — sends your pulse into your throat.

You force yourself to look back at the menu, but the words blur.

The conversation moves on, everyone talking over each other about shifts and patients and inside jokes that probably sound insane to the tables nearby. 

You join in where you can, laughing along, but there’s a thread tugging at your attention. A weight you keep circling back to.

Vi.

She doesn’t say much, not compared to Maddie anyway, but every time she does, her voice cuts through the noise, grounding. And every so often, you catch her glancing your way. Not staring, not obvious. Just.. checking.

It’s enough to send you spiraling into questions you don’t dare answer.

When the first round of drinks arrives, Maddie raises hers in a mock toast. “To surviving another week of hell!”

The whole table echoes it, glasses clinking, the sound sharp against the backdrop of music. You sip yours, letting the warmth slide down your throat, trying to quiet the restless energy coiled in your chest.

You’re halfway through a laugh at one of Ekko’s jokes when Maddie leans across the table, voice dropping just enough for you to hear over the chaos. “See? Worth coming out, right?”

You roll your eyes but nod, lips tugging into a reluctant smile. “Yeah. Worth it.”

Out of habit, your gaze flickers across the table again — and finds Vi already looking at you.

It’s not a long look. Just a heartbeat. Maybe two. But it feels weighted, like the kind of eye contact that says more than it should. Like there’s a conversation you’re both having without words, layered beneath the laughter and chatter of everyone else.

And you don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until Maddie kicks you under the table with a smug grin.

You snap your eyes back to your glass, cheeks burning.

The night rolls on, plates of food showing up, drinks refilling, conversations blurring into one another. And somewhere in the middle of it all, you realize you’ve stopped checking the time, stopped thinking about work tomorrow, stopped caring about anything outside the warm cocoon of this booth.

Every so often, your gaze drifts again — and every so often, you catch Vi’s doing the same.

The booth with the group is noisy, full of chatter and laughter bouncing off the walls, but somehow it doesn’t reach you. Your focus narrows, unbidden, until it’s just Vi — the tilt of her head as she laughs quietly at something Ekko said, the way her fingers drum lightly on the edge of the table.

She notices your gaze and lifts an eyebrow, a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. You glance away, pretending to examine your drink, but your pulse hammers in your ears.

“Hey,” Vi says, voice low enough that only you can hear.

You look up, startled. Her eyes, sharp and steady, meet yours across the table. For a moment, the noise of the bar fades completely. Just her.

“Yeah?” you manage, trying for casual, but your throat feels tight.

“I don’t think you belong here.”

You blink, slightly offended. “Excuse me?”

She leans back slightly, resting her arm over the back of the booth like she’s claiming her territory. “This,” she gestures vaguely toward the table, toward the music, toward the chaos, “it’s… fun, I guess. But you — you’re too much.”

Your stomach does a little flip. “Too much?” you echo, half-laughing, half-nervous.

“The way you move in a room,” she says, leaning in slightly, “the way people notice you. You draw attention without trying. And somehow… it makes everyone else look boring.”

Heat rises to your cheeks. You sip your drink to cover it, pretending not to notice the way her gaze lingers on you.

“You think I notice you too much,” she adds, voice dropping another notch. Her eyes are steady, unflinching.

“Maybe,” you say softly, smiling despite yourself. “Maybe I like it.”

She raises a brow. “Maybe?”

“Maybe,” you repeat, leaning back in your seat, testing the waters. You let your confidence settle into your bones, letting her see that you can play too.

There’s a beat of silence between you. A careful pause, like the air itself is holding its breath. Then she smirks again, sharp and knowing.

“You’ve got a dangerous smile,” she says. “I should warn people before they get near you.”

You laugh, and it’s unsteady at first, but it eases as you catch yourself. “Oh yeah? And what happens if they don’t listen?”

Vi leans closer across the table, lowering her voice even further. “Then they end up noticing things they probably shouldn’t. Like how hard it is not to stare.”

The words hit your chest like a spark. You let your eyes meet hers fully this time, holding it longer than polite, longer than casual, until the hum of the bar fades again and it’s just the two of you in a bubble of tension and warmth.

Somewhere nearby, Maddie and Ekko are still talking, but you barely register it. Vi’s smirk softens slightly as she catches your glance and tilts her head.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come tonight,” she says, voice quieter now, more personal.

“I wasn’t going to,” you admit, shrugging, trying to act casual even though your pulse is doing cartwheels. “But Maddie’s persuasive.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmurs, a teasing lilt in her tone. “So you came for her… or for me?”

You tilt your head, meeting her gaze evenly, holding back a grin. “Why not both?”

She laughs softly, low and amused, shaking her head. Her eyes sparkle, just the tiniest bit of vulnerability slipping through her usual mask. “You’re impossible,” she says, leaning back and pretending to look away — but her eyes flicker to yours anyway, and you catch it.

You can feel it too. The subtle brush of something dangerous, electric, hovering in the space between you. Not enough to act on yet, not enough to name — just enough to feel.

For a long moment, you both simply sit there, talking in small bites of conversation, teasing each other, letting your hands brush occasionally against the table, letting glances linger longer than they should.

You’re aware of the heat of the bar around you, of the other conversations and music, but all of it recedes to the background. You’re aware only of Vi, of the soft smirk that never leaves her face, and the steady pull of attention she wields so easily.

It’s intoxicating, the way this little corner of the night has become yours. A small, dangerous, thrilling world just for the two of you.

After that brief, electric conversation, you and Vi exchange one last glance, both of you smiling just a little too knowingly. 

“Whatcha guys talking about?” Maddie asks, raising an eyebrow, her grin teasing.

“How you're insane for convincing all of us to go out on a work night,” Vi says smoothly, her presence effortless, magnetic.

The group barely notices the shift, too busy with their own chatter, but you catch Maddie’s approving nod, Ekko’s subtle smirk, and even Mel’s amused look. 

You settle back, leaning into the conversation, though your heart is still in a quiet tug-of-war with the memory of that private moment with Vi.

The music pulses around you, laughter ripples, glasses clink, and it feels almost normal — almost like the two of you are just another pair at the table. Except you know, and she knows, and the weight of that unspoken tension hums faintly under every word and glance.

And then, as if on cue, a tall, confident figure steps into your periphery.

Broad-shouldered, moving deliberately through the crowd, and now everyone at the table sees her too. The energy shifts instantly, a new layer of tension weaving through the booth.

Holy hunk of muscle.

She stops just shy of your table, eyes locking onto yours. 

The room seems to sharpen around her presence, and suddenly every laugh, every chatter, every glance from your coworkers is focused on the moment she steps in.

“Excuse me,” she says, smooth and deliberate, “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. You look… incredible.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, your pulse spikes, and all at once, everyone is silently taking in the scene.

You’re frozen for a heartbeat, caught between excitement and intrigue. You hear Maddie murmur softly — but the woman smirks again, tilting her head in a way that’s confident, magnetic, and impossible to ignore.

Your chest tightens in a strange, thrilling way. The compliment hits differently than you expected: flattering, unexpected, and somehow… exciting. 

There’s a pull in your stomach, a spark that makes you aware of her presence, her confidence, her energy. 

You can’t help it. You’re impressed, and honestly, undeniably attracted.

Every set of eyes at the table lands on you — Maddie’s wide with excitement, Ekko grinning like he’s watching a storm unfold, Mel quietly amused. And Vi… 

Vi’s gaze holds you, sharp and controlled, and the way she’s observing you makes your stomach twist in a different, complicated way.

The woman looks you up and down, smirking knowingly, aware of the attention she’s drawing. “I had to say something before someone else did,” she adds, voice smooth, deliberate. “You’re… impossible to ignore.”

You feel heat creeping up your neck, your pulse quickening, but it’s a different warmth — less nervous, more… drawn in. You smile, genuine and a little flustered, leaning slightly toward her. “Thank you,” you say, voice steady but soft. “That’s… really nice of you.”

Her smirk deepens, a spark of mischievous confidence in her eyes. “You’re welcome. Not often someone walks in and shifts the whole room’s energy like that.”

“I’m Sevika,” she purrs out with a cheshire smile-like grin stretched across her dark painted lips. 

a/n: oopsies... i wonder how this will play out in the next few chapters! lol!

taglist: @miffyscakes @sevikas-whore @draculu @autisticratbagtm @riotstemple29 @jupitism @mel6ncholixc @mariesmagix @tsujifreya @snuffphiliaa

FREAKYJORKER 2025 © all my work is my own, please do not translate, copy, or distribute any content without permission