Question
Question
No battles left, no wars to win,
Just breathless sighs upon fingertips.
A love once fought now forged as one,
Sealed soft with vows and silence
Vi knows she’s going to do it.
She’s known for a while now—maybe since the first time Caitlyn had looked at her like she was something worth keeping, or the first time she’d called their house home and meant it. Maybe even before that, when they were still half-broken things in a half-broken world, and Vi had convinced herself that something as steady as love wasn’t meant for her.
But she’s here now. They both are. And Vi’s going to ask her.
If she can figure out how.
It starts with the ring.
She sits on the bedroom floor, back against the bedframe, staring down at the little velvet box balanced in her palm. She’s been carrying it around for days now, flipping it open and shut like the answer’s hidden somewhere inside.
It’s simple, just a silver band with a small, deep-blue sapphire nestled in the centre, no excessive details, nothing too fancy—Caitlyn wouldn’t want that. The cost that would've had, especially from Vi. She’d agonised over it anyway, pacing through half a dozen jewellers wround Piltover, ignoring every raised eyebrow and expectant sales clerk until she’d finally spotted this one, tucked away in a quiet display.
She’d known then.
Caitlyn always jokes that Vi wears her favourite colour on her hands—her fingers stained with the rough edges of her work, her fights and many bad decisions, always tinged somewhere between bruised violet and blue. It had started as something teasing, but Vi had caught her staring too many times, running absent touches over her knuckles, tracing patterns against her skin. The sapphire had reminded Vi of that.
She just has to give it to her now.
And therein lies the problem.
Because Vi isn’t a planner. She isn’t Caitlyn. She can wrestle a guy twice her size, slip a knife past security, is known to have outrun half the enforcers in Piltover, but getting down on one knee and asking a simple question? That’s apparently beyond her skill set.
The first attempt had been a disaster.
She’d considered doing it over dinner, taking Caitlyn somewhere fancy in Piltover, letting the weight of the moment settle into candlelight and fine wine. But Caitlyn had spent the entire meal talking about work, about her latest case and the corruption brewing once more in the city’s underbelly, and Vi had just... listened. Because Caitlyn’s voice got softer when she was deep in thought, her expression flickering between focused and determined and disappointed, and Vi had been too distracted by her to actually do anything.
Attempt two had involved the rooftop of the freshly constructed Last Drop, lights strung along the railing, a blanket laid out on the roof tiles. It had been perfect—until a storm had rolled in early, drenching everything in the entire Undercity, leaving Vi cursing under her breath as she gathered up the sopping mess before Caitlyn could see it at home.
By the time attempt three had rolled around, Vi had been convinced the universe was mocking her. A simple walk through a park, a quiet place under the trees, nothing extravagant—but she’d lost her nerve. The moment had stretched, the words lodged in her throat, and then a stray animal had barrelled into her, snatching the ring box straight from her pocket. She’d spent twenty minutes chasing it, then wrestling it back, cursing her life choices.
Which is why, sitting here now, she knows she needs help.
She tips her head back against the mattress, groaning into the empty room. "I’m so fucked."
A knock sounds at the doorframe.
Vi jumps, stuffing the ring box into her pocket so fast it nearly flies out the other side. She's so used to hiding this thing now.
"Today was that bad, huh?” Tobias leans against the frame, arms crossed, watching her like he’s debating how much of this conversation he actually wants to be involved in.
Vi exhales, rubbing a hand down her face. "Worse."
She isn’t even sure why he’s here—probably stopping by to check on Caitlyn, though Vi’s never quite figured out his schedule. He’s a quiet sort of presence, orbiting their lives in his own way, always sharp-eyed and unreadable. She still doesn’t know if he fully approves of her, but he hasn’t disapproved either, which is about as much as she could hope for.
He steps further inside, glancing at where she’s half-sprawled against the bed. "What’s got you looking like that, or should I just assume Caitlyn did something reckless with you again?"
Vi snorts. "It’s never her. It’s me. I’m—" She stops, exhales. "I guess I probably should’ve asked you first anyway."
Tobias stills.
It’s only for a second, a flicker of surprise that crosses his face before he schools it into something unreadable. She sits up, and edges just closer.
Tobias Kiramman is not an easy man to ask for favours.
Not because he’s cruel or unkind—he’s far from it. But because, despite everything, he’s still Caitlyn’s father. And Vi? Vi is still the woman who, years ago, crashed into Caitlyn’s life like a storm.
It doesn’t matter that they’ve long since made their peace, or that Tobias has welcomed Vi into their home more times than she can count despite everything reservation and past the past tense moments. There’s still something nerve-wracking about asking him for the person who is most important in his life.
"I guess I need your help with something."
Tobias looks up raising an eyebrow. "I assume this isn’t another scheme to smuggle a stray into my house?"
Vi huffs. "That was one time. And he was injured!"
"Yes, well," Tobias folds his hands neatly as he comes further in, "what is it, then?"
Vi exhales. Her palms are weirdly sweaty.
"I want to propose."
For a second, Tobias just looks at her.
"I see." He looks at her for a long moment, then simply says, "So you need help."
Vi laughs, a little defeated, she steps backwards until she can sit back down on the bed once more. "Apparently."
There’s a pause. Then, to her surprise, Tobias sits down beside her. Not quite close, but not distant either. He doesn’t speak immediately, just steeples his fingers in thought before finally asking, "What have you tried so far?"
Vi groans, tipping her head back. "A lot of things. Dinner, rooftop, a walk in the park—"
"The rooftop?" He lifts an eyebrow.
"Don’t ask."
He doesn’t. Instead, he just considers. "So, what’s the real issue here? You can’t find the right moment?"
Vi exhales, shoulders slumping. "It’s Caitlyn. She deserves something special. Something that actually—" She gestures vaguely. "You know. Works."
Tobias is quiet for a moment. Then he says, "She’s always liked simple things."
Vi glances at him. "Yeah, explains why she likes me.” She mutters, “Simple hasn’t been working for me."
There’s another pause, then Tobias hums thoughtfully. "You want my advice?"
Vi blinks. "Since when do you give me advice?"
He ignores that. "You should do it here."
Vi stares. "What?"
Tobias shrugs. "You said it yourself—she deserves something that works. And Caitlyn’s happiest here. This is her home. Her legacy. If you want the moment to feel right, stop chasing some grand setting and just... make it right here."
Vi opens her mouth, then closes it again. She hates that he has a point. Tobias smirks slightly, like he can tell exactly what she’s thinking.
Vi hesitates. "You’re serious?"
"Mm."
Vi is already nodding before he’s finished speaking. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. That could actually work."
Tobias smiles slightly, then gets to his feet, dusting off his trousers. For a long moment, he just watches her. Like he’s considering something.
Then, to Vi’s absolute surprise, he smiles.
"You know," he says, "I always thought Caitlyn would end up with someone quieter. More... proper."
Vi stiffens. "Yeah. I know I’m not exactly—"
Tobias waves a hand. "But," he interrupts smoothly, "I also know my daughter has never been happier than when she is with you. I’ll leave you to it."
As he turns to go, Vi calls after him. "Hey, Mr Kiramman."
He stops, “Tobias.”
Vi hesitates, then just says, "Thanks."
His expression softens—just a little. "Don’t mess it up."
And with that, he’s gone.
Vi exhales, staring after him.
Then, finally, she lets herself smile.
She has a plan.
Now, she just has to pull it off.
Caitlyn knows something is wrong.
She doesn’t notice it at first—Vi has always been restless, always fidgeting, always finding new ways to burn through the energy that coils tight beneath her skin. But this is different. This isn’t restless, it’s distracted.
At first, she writes it off as nothing. Vi has her moods. She gets lost in her own head sometimes, tangled up in thoughts she won’t share. Caitlyn has learned to be patient, to let her come around in her own time.
But this? This has been days.
Days of Vi zoning out mid-conversation, fingers tapping absently against her leg. Days of her staring off into space, gnawing at her lower lip like she’s worrying something between her teeth. Days of Caitlyn waking up in the middle of the night only to find Vi missing, returning later with a half-hearted excuse and tired eyes.
Caitlyn lets it go for as long as she can.
Then, one evening, she finally corners her.
They’re in the kitchen, Caitlyn pouring herself tea while Vi leans against the counter, arms crossed.
Caitlyn studies her. The way her jaw is tight, the way her fingers drum against her bicep, the way she looks like she’s bracing for something.
She sets her mug down. "Alright. Tell me."
Vi blinks. "Tell you what?"
Caitlyn levels her with a look. "Whatever has you acting like this." She gestures vaguely at her. "You’re barely here in the day, you keep disappearing at night, and I swear I caught you talking to yourself earlier." She crosses her arms. "If something’s wrong, if there’s a problem going on, you can tell me."
Vi freezes for half a second too long.
Then, she lets out a laugh—too quick, too forced—and reaches out for Caitlyn, to take her hand. In reassurance if nothing else. "Nothing’s wrong, cupcake. Just... y’know. Thinking."
Caitlyn narrows her eyes.
She knows Vi. Knows the way she deflects, the way she talks circles around things she doesn’t want to face.
"Thinking," Caitlyn echoes. "Thinking about what?"
Vi shrugs, and sits on the chair beside her "Just stuff."
"Vi."
“Caittttt..” It doesn’t work. "It’s nothing, alright? I’m just—" She cuts herself off, shakes her head. "It’s not important."
Caitlyn watches her for a long moment.
She wants to push. Wants to grab Vi by the shoulders, shake her, make her understand that she doesn’t have to do this alone anymore, that Caitlyn wants to share everything with her, the good and the bad.
But Vi isn’t ready.
So Caitlyn softens.
She reaches up, and gently squeezes Vi’s arm.
"Alright," she murmurs. "Just... don’t shut me out."
Vi’s lips part slightly, something flickering across her face—guilt, maybe, or something close to it. But she just nods, leans in to press a quick kiss to Caitlyn’s forehead, and mutters, "Always so dramatic, Kiramman," before slipping away.
Caitlyn sighs.
She lets her go. For now.
Kiramman
A Few Days Later
Vi has never been much for flowers.
They remind her of things she never had—bouquets in grand estates, pressed petals between book pages, the kind of quiet, delicate beauty that never fit in her hands. She used to think they were useless. Pointless. A way for rich people to decorate their lives with something fleeting.
Then she met Caitlyn.
And now, she’s kneeling on the floor of the Kiramman house, surrounded by hundreds of violets, trying to make sure they don’t look like a total fucking mess.
She’s not even sure how she got here.
One minute, she was convincing Tobias to agree to the plan—something simple, something theirs. Next, she was somehow convincing herself that of course she needed a trail of flowers leading Caitlyn through the house, and of course she needed candles, and obviously everything needed to be perfect.
Now, she’s questioning every life choice that led her to this moment.
The petals are everywhere.
Scattered across the hallway, the living room, the stairs—half of them are still crammed into the oversized paper bags she’d hauled in earlier. The candles are lined up along the floor, unlit for now, but they already feel like a fire hazard waiting to happen. She has no idea if this looks romantic or if it just looks like she’s lost her mind.
But it’s too late now.
She checks the clock. Caitlyn finishes work soon. Tobias had promised to stall if needed, but Vi doesn’t trust the guy not to just hand Caitlyn the cryptic one-liner and leave her to figure it out herself.
She moves faster.
By the time she’s finished, the house looks...
Well. It looks different, atleast.
There’s a soft path of petals leading from the door, winding through the halls, up the staircase. Candles—carefully placed, not near anything that could burn the place down—line the walls, flickering as she lights them. At the very end of the trail, in the middle of the bedroom, there’s a small table. Nothing dramatic. Just the ring box, waiting. And that's where Vi will be.
She exhales.
She’s really doing this.
Her hands twitch at her sides, restless energy spilling through her limbs. She wants to move. Wants to fight, to hit something, to do anything but stand here, waiting for Caitlyn to walk through that door and turn her world inside out.
Because that’s what Caitlyn does.
She tilts everything on its axis.
Vi is terrified.
Not of the answer. Not really.
It’s everything before that. The way Caitlyn will look at her, the way she’ll know before Vi even gets the words out, the way Vi will be standing there, open and exposed, offering something fragile in the centre of her palm.
She’s not good at this.
She wants to be. But even now, as she shoves her hands into her pockets, she can feel the weight of it—the way love has always felt like something sharp, something she has to hold carefully or risk cutting herself open.
She paces.
Check the ring.
Paces again.
Then, finally, she hears the door.
Her breath catches.
She moves quickly, pressing herself against the far wall, mostly out of sight.
This is Tobias’ part now.
She listens. The soft click of the door unlocking. The pause.
Then Tobias’ voice, casual and measured. "Evening darling."
Caitlyn’s voice follows, warm and curious. "Dad? What are you still doing here? I thought you said–"
"I was about to leave, actually."
There’s a beat of silence. Caitlyn's looking at him, eyes scanning for anything unusual.
Then her gaze sweeps across the hallway, taking in the scattered violets, the candles, the impossible softness of it all. He sees the moment she understands that this isn’t some odd household occurrence. This is Vi.
This is for her.
Her lips part, but whatever she means to say dies before it can form. Instead, she turns back to her father. He smiles, a rare thing—small, knowing, fond. “Don’t look at me, love. This isn’t my doing.”
"You're—" She glances at the bag slung over his shoulder. Leaving.
"Avoiding the scene before it gets too sentimental." He reaches out, smooths a loose hair behind her ear like she's that tiny toddler once more. "You'll be fine."
She swallows. "You know?"
His expression softens, but there's something careful in it too, measured. “Had a inkling.” A pause. “And she might have asked for my advice.”
Caitlyn exhales, something caught between a laugh and disbelief. “She roped you into this?”
"Not much roping involved." He squeezes her shoulder briefly, before slipping past her, reaching for the door. “I’ll be out for the evening. Don’t burn the place down.” He jokes, then hums, “Mhm. But before I go—this is for you."
Then Caitlyn again, softer. "A card?"
"Read it."
Then he’s gone.
The house settles into silence.
Then the sound of paper unfolding.
Caitlyn turns back to the hallway, the path of violets stretching ahead of her, delicate and deliberate. The candle's dusky glow catches on the petals, making them look almost unreal. She lifts the card he handed her. Vi’s handwriting—messy, slanted—stares back at her.
Follow the trail.
Her fingers tighten around the paper.
She calls out, hesitant at first. “Vi?”
Silence.
A little louder this time. “Vi, are you—?” She stops herself, exhaling. Of course, she’s not going to answer. This is part of it.
Caitlyn lingers a moment longer, trying to quiet the sudden rush in her chest. The realisation settles in slowly. This is what Vi has been worked up about. The odd tension, the way she’s been restless, distant—not because something was wrong, but because of this. Because of her.
Because she was planning something like this.
A warmth spreads beneath her ribs. She doesn’t hesitate anymore.
She follows the trail.
She passes through the dining room, past the worn leather chair Vi always slouches into after a long day. Past the fireplace, the same one Vi always swears they should light even though the house never actually gets that cold.
Little pieces of their life together here. Of them.
The petals lead her through the hallway, winding towards the stairs, curling up along the bannister like a ribbon pulling her forward. There’s something gentle about it, something intentional.
The realisation keeps building, curling itself around her in ways she’s not sure she knows how to name yet.
She reaches the top of the stairs.
The petals guide her down the hallway, past the guest room, past her father’s study.
Then—her bedroom.
The door is open.
Candles line the dresser, waiting. More violets, scattered across the bed. Around the little side table. And there—standing at the far end of the room, hands shoved deep into her pockets—Vi.
Caitlyn stops.
For a moment, neither of them speak.
Then Vi exhales, sharp, like she’s forcing herself to breathe. “Took you long enough.”
Caitlyn barely manages a huff of laughter. “You weren’t answering.”
“Yeah, well.” Vi shifts her weight, “Didn’t want to ruin the moment.”
Caitlyn lets her gaze drift, taking in the scene, the way everything is so deliberate. The way Vi waits, like she’s holding herself back, like if she moves too quickly, she might shatter whatever it is she’s trying to give.
Caitlyn steps forward.
Vi stays rooted in place.
And then, finally, after a long moment of longing stares, finally, she speaks again.
“You ever think about the first time we met?” Vi’s voice is lower now, almost careful. “Like—really think about it?”
Caitlyn watches her. “I do.”
Vi’s mouth twitches. “Back then, if you’d told me that one day I’d be standing here, doing this…” She exhales sharply, shakes her head. “I would’ve laughed in your face.”
Caitlyn smiles. “I wouldn’t have.”
Vi looks at her then, something flickering behind her eyes. “Yeah, but you're too sweet on me.”
“Oh like you're not on me. Besides you've never let go of the things that matter.” She takes another step. “Not when it counts.”
Vi swallows. She glances down for half a second—just long enough for Caitlyn to see the way her fingers twitch inside her pockets. Then she moves.
Slow. Measured.
She scoops up the box from the table.
Then kneels.
Caitlyn’s breath catches.
Vi exhales, like she’s bracing herself against something bigger than either of them. Then she opens the box, the ring.
“I used to think I wasn’t the kind of person who got this.” Vi’s voice is steady, but there’s something beneath it, something raw. “Didn’t think I’d ever be someone who could have a real home, again. A life. Someone who…” She hesitates, swallows, tries again. “Someone who looks at me the way you do.”
Caitlyn doesn’t blink, she doesn’t move.
Vi licks her lips, shifts slightly. “I don’t have fancy words for this. You know I’m not good at that shit. But I know this.” She gestures between them with her free hand, voice quieter now. “You and me, we’re—" She fumbles over her word, and sighs, "We work. Even when we don’t. Even when we’re both stubborn idiots who can’t get out of our own way.” A small laugh, breathless. “You see me. And for some reason, you keep choosing me. Even though I'm not quite sure why. Every time.”
Caitlyn lets out a soft, shaky breath.
Vi’s eyes don’t leave hers.
“So I figured it’s about time I try to make it official.” She pulls the ring from the box, shifting it slightly in between her fingers, and Caitlyn catches the faintest shake in her hold, the tension in her knuckles.
Vi looks up at her.
“If you'll marry me.”
Silence stretches between them.
Then—Caitlyn laughs, something light, something full, something impossible to contain. She kneels, fast, sudden, catching Vi’s face in her hands before she can process it.
And she kisses her.
Vi stills for half a second before sinking into it, hands reaching instinctively for Caitlyn’s waist, anchoring herself in the only thing that’s ever truly been hers.
When they break apart, Caitlyn presses her forehead against Vi’s, breathing her in.
“Yes,” she murmurs.
Vi huffs a soft sigh, stunned expression on her face. “Yeah?”
Caitlyn laughs too, nodding. “Yeah.”
Vi exhales, leans into her. Holds her close.
Vi doesn’t move.
Not at first.
She just stays there, forehead pressed to Caitlyn’s, breathing her in like she’s afraid to let go. Like if she shifts even an inch, the whole world might shatter around her.
And maybe it would have, once.
But not now.
Because Caitlyn said yes.
Caitlyn—who has seen every sharp edge of her, every reckless mistake, every inch of the girl who grew up fighting just to survive—looked at all of that and still chose her.
Vi squeezes eyes shut.
Then Caitlyn moves, tilting back just enough to look at her properly, hands still cradling her face, fingers featherlight against her jaw.
“You good there Violet?” Caitlyn murmurs.
Vi almost laughs. Good? She’s not sure she’s ever been good at anything aside from fighting, but if there’s one thing she’s sure of—one thing she’s always sure of—it’s Caitlyn. She's good. More than good.
So she nods, slow, smile spreading across her face. “Yeah. I am”
Caitlyn studies her for a moment longer, something warm and unreadable flickering behind her eyes. Then, with the softest smile, she plucks the ring from Vi’s hand and slides it on.
It fits.
Vi exhales, finally.
And that’s when Caitlyn laughs—small, breathless, like she can’t believe this is real. She looks down at the ring, turning her hand slightly so the light catches on it. “You’ve been driving yourself mad over this haven't you?”
Vi scoffs, pulling back properly now, resting her weight on her heels. “Mad’s a strong word.”
Caitlyn arches an eyebrow.
Vi sighs, rubbing the back of her neck.
“…Fine. Maybe a little mad.”
Caitlyn just shakes her head, reaching for her hand. “You could’ve told me. Or just asked me.”
“You would’ve known.” Vi squeezes her fingers. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
Caitlyn glances at the trail of petals still scattered across the floor, at the flickering candlelight, at everything. “I think you succeeded.”
Vi watches her, heart still hammering. “Yeah?”
Caitlyn hums, thoughtful, then leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to Vi’s cheek. “Yeah.”
Vi lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding.
And just like that, it’s real.
It settles in slowly, curling into the spaces between them, winding through the quiet like something sacred. This is them. Not a fight, not a battle to be won, not something that can be lost in a single wrong step.
Just them.
Just home.
Caitlyn tilts her head, moving to stand, gaze warm and teasing. “So… did my Father know before me?”
Vi groans, tilting her head back. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I will.” Caitlyn tugs at her hand, standing, pulling Vi with her. “You told my father before me?”
“I wanted to do things properly, alright?” Vi grumbles, letting herself be pulled up, arms instinctively wrapping around Caitlyn’s waist. “And then he helped. Sort of.”
Caitlyn smirks, looping her arms around Vi’s shoulders. “That explains why he smiled then ran.”
“Exactly. He didn’t wanna deal with all the romantic nonsense required.” Vi pulls her in a little closer, lips brushing against Caitlyn’s temple.
Caitlyn laughs, nuzzling into her neck. "You're good at it."
Vi grins against her hair. “Yeah?”
Caitlyn hums. “Mhm.”
Vi pulls back just enough to catch her eyes. “So, what now?”
Caitlyn considers that for half a second, then—
She kisses her.
Slow, deep, grounding.
Vi feels her chest tighten the moment Caitlyn touches her face. It’s like the world slips away, leaving just the two of them in the quiet warmth of the room. She can feel Caitlyn’s pulse against her fingertips, steady and strong, and it sends a wave of heat rushing through her.
Caitlyn’s pulls back, her thumb brushes over Vi’s lips, as if she’s trying to memorise the shape of them. She can’t look away. She doesn’t want to.
And then Caitlyn leans in, a breath away from her lips, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re mine now, aren’t you?”
Vi shivers, the words sinking straight into her bones, curling into something primal and raw inside her. She doesn’t know what comes over her, but before she can think too much, she’s kissing Caitlyn—hard, desperate, hands cupping the back of her neck, pulling her in closer. It’s not gentle, not like the soft kisses they shared earlier, but a fevered thing. A hunger.
Caitlyn responds instantly, meeting her with the same intensity, her hands slipping beneath Vi’s shirt, warm fingers skating over her skin. The contact makes Vi groan, her body leaning in, closing the distance between them.
Vi doesn’t know when she started to feel like she was drowning in Caitlyn, but she doesn’t care. She pulls Caitlyn’s body flush against hers, the heat of it making her head spin. Caitlyn’s lips leave hers only for a moment before she presses soft kisses along her jaw, trailing down to her neck. Vi tilts her head back, eyes closing, feeling Caitlyn’s lips burn a path across her skin.
Her body reacts before her mind can catch up, and before she knows it, she’s tugging Caitlyn’s shirt over her head, feeling the heat of her bare skin. Caitlyn’s hands are working at the waistband of her jeans, but neither of them are in any rush—this is slower, more deliberate again.
Vi pulls Caitlyn back up to kiss her again, rougher this time, tasting the remnants of their earlier conversation on her lips. It’s all-consuming, the feel of Caitlyn’s body against hers, the soft gasps between kisses. Vi’s hands slide to Caitlyn’s hips, pulling her flush once more, feeling her pulse quicken under her touch.
Caitlyn’s fingers thread through Vi’s hair, tugging her closer, if that’s even possible, and a low sound escapes Vi’s throat—half a moan, half a growl. It’s messy and tangled, and Vi has no idea where one of them ends and the other begins. She just knows that she wants more.
Vi's hands slip down to the waistband of Cait's pants, fingers deft, moving with a sense of urgency that matches the ache in her chest. The moment her hand slides beneath the fabric, Cait gasps, her breath hitching in her throat.
"Vi...” she breathes, voice rough.
But she doesn’t let her finish. She kisses her again, slow and deliberate, fingers pressing deeper as she pulls Vi back toward the bed. The movement is seamless, natural—a dance they’ve been practicing without even realising. It’s all heat and skin now, the world outside the house nothing but a distant memory.
Cait pushes Vi down first, both of them tumbling onto the bed, bodies tangling, limbs heavy with want. Caitlyn’s eyes meet hers, dark and filled with something undeniable, and Vi feels her chest tighten once more. She’s never been good with words, especially not about this. But with Caitlyn, she doesn’t need to say anything.
Their hands are frantic now, tugging at clothes, desperate to feel each other fully. And when they finally come together, skin to skin, Vi gasps, her heart pounding in her chest as Caitlyn’s lips meet hers again, deeper, more urgent now.
Vi can barely breathe, overwhelmed by the weight of it, but she doesn’t care. She never cared about anything but this, right here. Caitlyn’s body on top of hers, kissing her with such fervour, with a hunger that matches her own.
The room is spinning. The only sound in the world is the harsh rasp of their breaths and the steady thud of their hearts beating together. Every touch is electric, every kiss an echo of the love they’ve been building, the connection they’ve been carving into each other’s lives, day by day.
And when they finally break apart, gasping for air, Caitlyn’s face is flushed, her eyes dark with desire. She rests her forehead against Vi’s, breathless and shaking.
“I love you,” Caitlyn murmurs, the words feeling like they belong in the very air they’re breathing.
Vi smiles, her heart full, pulling Caitlyn back down to kiss her once more. “I love you too,” she whispers, and the rest of the world falls away. It’s just them. Just this.
And in this moment, that’s all that matters.