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gotta be down because i want it all

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Vi lets Caitlynn say stuff to her that she would never, ever take from anyone else. 


“You’re wrong.”


“You acted rashly.”


“Perhaps there is a way to resolve this without punching someone.”


But also. You know. Other stuff. Embarrassing stuff. 






“My precious Violet.”


Right? It’s the Worst. She’s not even saying those words ironically - she means them. Which should absolutely make Vi’s skin crawl. 


Yet somehow it doesn’t? 


Somehow ‘ my beloved’ murmured into her ear at 4am between the sheets of their bed feels like some sort of prayer offered up in the temple they’ve created of their room in those hours - soft, sacred - ‘sweetheart’ against her throat between drowsy kisses is half-teasing in its tenderness - ‘my precious Violet’ is… dumb as hell and definitely revenge for ‘cupcake’ and yet somehow Vi likes it? Coming out of Caitlyn’s mouth it’s kinda… nice? As long as she never, ever says it where anyone else can hear it. 


Because no one says shit like that to Vi, about Vi - no one has ever, in her entire life, thought of her as precious . At least no one who’s, y’know, still around. She can’t remember the last time someone was just… gentle. Treated her like she deserved gentleness. Wanted to cover her in kisses and whisper sweet, dumb petnames into her ear in the small hours of the morning, and stroke the hair out of her eyes and gaze at her softly in the dim moonlight and trace slow fingers over her scars and tattoos, counting them, asking about them, brow creased with concern - you were how old? Oh, Vi, I’m so sorry


Vi didn’t even know she wanted those things until suddenly she was just kinda stuck with them. 


Like, maybe, somewhere at sometime, some poor sap thought they could offer her this kind of sweetness - someone she’d run across in prison or the streets or wherever. But she wouldn’t have felt anything but pity (at best) for that poor sap. She didn’t want a poor sap. 


Now she kinda is the poor sap, isn’t she?


Sprawled in bed watching Caitlyn get dressed in the mornings, striding around in her underwear, brushing her hair, putting on makeup and perfume, lint rolling her clothes, talking in her best Very Serious And No Nonsense Adult voice about what they have to do that day - with Vi refusing to move because she never gets up before the absolute last minute, which drives Caitlyn crazy, which is exactly why Vi does it. And all Vi can think the whole time is fuck you’re perfect . Feels like she’s fucking high. High on a girl. On an enforcer. Gross. 


But also fuck Caitlyn is fucking perfect. 


Vi is obsessed with her. With the warmth of the back of her neck against Vi’s cheek, the colour of her hair in sunlight, the shadows her eyelashes cast down her face, the little furrow she gets between her eyebrows when she’s thinking, the gap between her front teeth, her manners, her posture, her annoying naivety and her stupid principles and her big sweet eyes and her big soft heart and the way she says Vi’s name - Vi, Violet, my darling, oh - darling - don’t stop - 


The taste of her on Vi’s fingers, the heat of her open mouth, her soft pink tongue, the arching, crooning pleasure she can draw out of Vi like silk -


She says some other things Vi definitely wouldn’t let anyone else get away with here too - at least not outside of this one, extremely specific context. 


(The context is Caitlyn fucking her brains out with a truly impressive strapon). 


“Oh my gods - oh my fucking gods - holy fucking shit - “ Vi holds onto the bedframe because if she lets go Caitlyn is going to fully fuck her through the wall, and Vi is going to let her, and probably that would be fine except that Vi doesn’t want to get stuck with the repair bill for this giant fucking mansion. “ Fuck - yes - “


Every thrust feels better than the last - Vi feels like she’s being hollowed out, broken open, filled up with - okay - yes - a leather dildo only slightly less thick than her wrist - but also - light and heat and glitter and fireworks and - 


“I didn’t say you could come,” Caitlyn has one hand in Vi’s hair, pulling her head back, which also feels way better than it should - and she’s been using the other to grip Vi’s hips but now she grabs Vi’s hand to stop her reaching for her clit. 


“F-fuck you -” Vi groans.


“Hm - aren’t I the one fucking you ?” The last three syllables each accompanied by a thrust hard enough that Vi is pretty sure she can feel them in her eyeballs. Fuck she’s so full and so wet and so close - 


“Shut up - god you’re - annoying -”


“Big talk coming from under city scum - “


“Ah - try - calling me that - again - cupcake -”


“You’ll what? Beg for an orgasm even louder -” Caitlyn’s lips are close against her ear, so Vi twists her head and crushes her mouth to the other woman’s, open and wanting. Caitlyn’s grip on her doesn’t loosen. “Beg,” she murmurs, against Vi’s mouth, “beg for it.”

Fuck that’s so fucking hot. 


“Please,” Vi hisses, as Caitlyn shoves her forward, pulls out, thrusts back in hard and then - grinds in this - just - spectacular circular motion, “p-please, cupcake - “




Caitlyn ,” she’s gonna make her pay for this later but right now it’s just so much, almost too much but also so, so good, “ p-please - “


Caitlyn releases her hand - and then she reaches between Vi’s legs herself and her fingers as so agonisingly gentle. “Alright. Alright, my darling.”


Gods she’s gonna come apart - just for a moment, just for a second there is nothing else in the world except this, Caitlyn biting her neck, filling her up, tugging her hair, stroking her clit - 


“You are - pretty good at that,” Vi admits, once she’s regained the power of speech, sagging against the silk pillows in Caitlyn’s stupidly big bed in her stupidly luxurious bedroom. 


“I’m excellent at that,” Caitlyn lets the strap fall to the floor before she crawls back across her fine linen sheets to take Vi in her arms - like Vi is one of those swooning heroines on the covers of those godawful romance novels Vander used to hide under his bed. Vi doesn’t mind swooning - not for Caitlyn. “My precious Violet.”


“Shut up,” Vi groans, but only because she wants to pretend a little longer that she doesn’t like the attention, because it will make Caitlyn hold her tighter. Her body is this warm, sweet balm - her hair smells like honeysuckle, her skin tastes like sweat. Caitlyn is tangling herself around Vi and Vi likes it so much she’s gonna have to find a way to ruin it. “So - under city scum, huh?”


“Sorry,” is Caitlyn blushing? After all that, this is what makes her blush? “Sorry - was that too much? It felt a bit - but you seem to quite like -”


“No, I did kinda like it,” Vi weaves her fingers through a stray curl of Caitlyn’s hair, “you’re so hot when you’re mean, cupcake.”


She’s definitely blushing. “You’re hot when you’re - begging.”


“I can beg better than that.”


“Oh - you can, can you?” 


“I’m just saying - you could make me beg… harder.”


Caitlyn’s lips quirk up. “Duly noted.”


Vi lifts her chin and kisses her, softer than she means to, fumbling a little. She doesn’t ever mean to be soft in these moments, because she’s already full of the most embarrassing feelings she’s ever had the misfortune of having to cope with. She doesn’t know what she’ll be dumb enough to say or do or act on if she doesn’t keep a tight lid on the whole post-coital glow. Telling the hot girl you’re with to fuck you harder is one thing - telling her you might break into a thousand pieces if you ever lose her is… another.


She lets Caitlyn say things to her that would get someone else punched. And frankly the dirty things, the rough things, the things Vi likes a lot in that one, specific context are less embarrassing (hey, everyone has weird kinks, don’t they?) than the nice things she says. 


“Here- here - let me - “ Caitlyn takes the comb, when they're running late one morning (which is every morning, because Vi doesn't like getting out of bed until Caitlyn is physically about to throw something at her), and begins actually combing Vi’s hair for her, like Vi can’t remember anyone doing since her parents died, shit, “there - would it kill you to look in the mirror once in a while?”


Vi glowers at her. “I don’t exactly make a habit of it, no.”


“What? Why?” Caitlyn pauses, looking at Vi like she just admitted to never wearing shoes or something.


“Have you seen this face?” Vi points at it, “why would I want to waste my time staring at it?”


Caitlyn only looks honestly, sincerely confused. “What’s - wrong with your face?”


“I’m not a good looking person, Caitlyn - some of us weren’t blessed with your - everything.”

If Caitlyn doesn’t get that wide-eyed stare off her face Vi is going to hit her. 


“But - you’re - so - “


“What?” Vi narrows her eyes - because if this bitch says it, if she so much as lets the first syllable leave her lips - 



“Oh fuck off - “


“I mean it!”


Vi snatches the comb back from her and stomps away to the mirror in question to attack her hair herself. “Shut the fuck up, cupcake.”


Caitlyn does not, of course, shut the fuck up. “Vi - “ 


They are early in this - whatever they’re doing, while they hunt for Powder and rebuild the under city government and burn down the enforcers from the inside out. Making out in dark corners, creeping into each other’s beds, having rough, dirty sex in the small hours of the morning. Actual cuddling, from time to time. Vi already knows that Caitlyn has slipped in close enough to her to say things to her she doesn’t want to hear, shouldn’t be listening to - soft, distracting, terrifying things. 


And now she steps up behind Vi as Vi is stood in front of the mirror furiously raking at her hair, and she wraps her arms around Vi’s waist and rests her chin on her shoulder, like that’s something people just do without planning to shiv you in the gut or shove you off a balcony. Vi has to expend a truly gargantuan effort to not toss her on her ass just reflexively. 


“You are, you know. Quite lovely.” 




“Even when you scowl. Perhaps especially when you scowl.”


“That isn’t - true.” She’s not lovely, she’s mean. She’s not lovely, she’s scary - she’s brutal - she’s fucking terrifying, on purpose. 


“Well, as an objective outside observer - “


“Objective? Yeah, you sounded really objective while I had my tongue in your pussy last night -”


“I have the keen eye and focused mind of a fully trained and highly decorated marksman, thank you very much.”


“So you can tell me I’m objectively hot because you could hit me with a sniper rifle from a mile away?”


“No. But you are beautiful.”


“Okay, I’ll go down on you again right now, is that what you want?”


“Why does that word make you so uncomfortable?”


“I’m not - uncomfortable.”


“Did you know that you’re also a terrible liar?”


“Yeah well, we both know I’m more of a dancer than a talker.” 


Gently, gently, Caitlyn teases the comb out of Vi’s fingers, tucking a streak of pink hair back behind her ear for her. “But who wouldn’t want to talk to that face?”


And Vi would think anyone else was being sarcastic - was teasing her - was trying to get a rise just to see what kind of an asskicking she could really deliver. But it’s Caitlyn, and gods help her, Caitlyn means it. 

Caitlyn can say anything to her. Anything she likes. Even terrifying things.


Like when, months later, she is stroking Vi’s hair, tracing the shell of her ear with her finger. Vi wants to lay here on the sofa, in the smallest, darkest hours of the morning, with her body resting between Caitlyn’s hips and her head on Caitlyn’s chest, letting her do this forever. Because this is what she becomes at 2AM after a long fucking day - a big cuddly dumbass. 


Anyway, that’s when Caitlyn says just the worst thing she could possibly say.


“I love you,” her voice is soft in the dark, “you don’t have to say it back, I just thought you should know - “


“I love you too,” Vi says it before she can catch herself, before she can crack a dumb joke or say something dirty. “I love you. I think I’m gonna love you forever. It’s fucking terrifying. Don’t make me say it again.”


In the quiet she’s pretty sure she can hear Caitlyn smiling. “Do you find me terrifying, darling?”


“Shut up.”