#vi angst

“what’s your deal, anyways? you totally flirt with her whenever she’s at the bar. not even we get that good of service,” gert points out. they’re searching through a stack of cd’s and cassette tapes for something to play. 

“that was before.” 

you walk over to sit next to gert, taking it upon yourself to choose the music. you settle on jagged little pill; alanis morrissette’s lush voice is a welcomed addition to your conversation.

“our funding is at risk,” you explain. “it’s like the dean assigned her to us because she knew it would end terribly and the board would have an excuse to finally cut us loose.” 

“if they need an excuse, they’ll find one,” gert grumbles.

you shrug. “i just think violet is bad news, which is something i’d prefer we avoid..”

“the article does say that she punched maddie nolan in the face during an exhibition game against the piltover knights.”

“see? bad news. literally.”

“well, i think we lucked out,” sky gushes, though her focus remains on finishing her current project. she’s crocheting so fast that you only catch glimpses of her sparkly pink fingernails. you’re sure she’ll be done with this blanket before violet shows up. if she even bothers to show up. “the yellowjackets might’ve lost their captain, but we get to spend quality time with the hottest butch on campus.”

“whatever,” you sigh, though you don’t disagree with that description. you check the clock again — 11:11am — and settle against the worn couch. “since we have the time — mel, why don’t you read our horoscopes? i’m itching to see what the universe has in store for us today.” 

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi spent the better part of last night crying and getting wasted in her bathtub with cheap dye burning into her scalp. 

she just couldn’t stand the memory of caitlyn kiramman’s perfectly manicured nails running through her formerly pink locks as they kissed, tugging on vi’s hair to bring her closer —

enough. fucking pull yourself together. 

cait’s moved on, that much is clear, with someone more like her. someone whose last name is on buildings all around the university of piltover’s campus.

so far, no amount of bar fights or red cards or late nights in some random girl’s bed seem to mend the heart that caitlyn shattered to pieces, but vi doesn’t give up easy.

soon enough, she’ll be back on the field, leading the yellowjackets to victory at nationals; she’ll finish all her classes, graduate with honors and have a great plan for an even greater future; all while having amazing, mind-blowing sex that won’t lead to serious heartbreak.

relationships are overrated, anyways. 

the first step in this plan: spending 100 hours with a bunch of angry, bra-burning lesbians.

maybe vi will fit right in.

so, vi walks into her community service assignment with a wicked migraine and hands that look like lady macbeth plotted to murder an oil spill, but with her usual confident swagger nonetheless, as conversation echoes down the hallway.

“according to your rising, there will be a much needed spark in your romantic life. my guess is a fire sign is gonna sweep you off your feet.”

another voice chimes in, a gentle rumble. “could that be your sweet jules?” 

“i’ve never asked about her chart,” an achingly familiar voice replies. it brings back memories of dizzying lights and strong whiskey coursing through her blood, but something else, too. a sky full of stars and too-sweet alcohol on her tongue. “paula was a fire sign, though, and that blew up in my face.”

“paula was a walking red flag.”

“yeah, well, apparently red’s my favorite color.”

“maybe that was just the heartbreak you needed to bring passion back into your life. do you feel that with jules?”

“i don’t know — maybe? we haven’t had sex yet.” 

“passion isn’t just about sex, you know —”

“gert, i love you, but i cannot handle a sex therapy session right now.”

someone else giggles, bright and bubbly. “hm, i wonder what sign our pink-haired hottie is.” 

vi clears her throat to announce her arrival, leaning against the doorway.

everyone turns to look at her then, with varying degrees of shock, and vi feels like she’s just walked into an after midnight roommate vent session.

she isn’t sure what she expected the space to look like, but zaun university’s women’s centre is well-lived in, defined by a sort of organized chaos. each wall is covered in posters and collages, multicolored flags and fairy lights; there’s a shelf in the corner with assorted trinkets and books piled high, a table next to it with baskets of condoms, pads, and tampons and informational pamphlets, and a door in the opposite corner, slightly ajar. a vintage boombox placed on the coffee table plays 90s alt rock, circled by mismatched seating with patterned blankets and brightly colored pillows strewn about.

someone with dark lipstick and an eyebrow piercing is drawing on their converse; a dark brunette wearing glasses is draping a blanket over the arm of a couch; another person is scrolling on their laptop, a gold necklace glittering on their collarbones. 

vi’s attention is stuck on you, though, the origin of the aforementioned familiar voice: the very hot bartender from sappho’s, where vi happened to be kicked out of not even 72 hours prior. 

you’re wearing a vintage wonder woman t-shirt tucked into faded blue jeans with a carabiner clipped to a belt loop. the sleeves of your shirt are rolled up, displaying your array of tattoos — vi’s already decided that her favorites are joan of arc holding her sword, a pomegranate that’s been cracked open, and lyrics from bikini kill’s ‘rebel girl’ (which admittedly, vi had to look up when she first saw). it’s everything vi’s booze-soaked brain had apparently memorized after many nights of staring at you across the bar counter, licking up whatever honeyed flirtations you’d spill from your lips. vi always noticed your hands, too: the many rings you’ve stacked on your fingers, the lavender sprig sprouting from your middle finger and venus symbol etched onto your wrist, the nails that are always clipped short and painted black. 

one of those nails is tapping anxiously on your coffee mug, which has a picture of hayley kiyoko as lesbian jesus.

“pink-haired hottie, reporting for duty. though, i might need a new nickname.” vi grins; you roll your eyes. “i’m an aries, by the way.”

“good to know.” the brunette winks not-so-subtly in your direction before walking towards vi and extending a hand, gold bangles clinking together at the motion. “i’m sky, she/her. we had electromagnetic theory together last spring. it’s lovely to officially meet you.”

vi makes a big show of leaning down and kissing sky’s hand.

“nice to meet you, too, sweetheart.”

“such a gentleman,” sky giggles and leads vi to the patchwork couch. she curls up like a cat, and vi follows suit — the couch is cloud soft, and vi tries not to sink into the cushions. “i’m our supplies and communications coordinator.” she turns away from vi to look around the room. “okay, that’s my intro. who’s next?”

the person with an eyebrow piercing nods at vi, a sort of effortless greeting. “gert, they/them.” they snap the sharpie shut after writing ‘the future is intersectional’ on the tip of their toe. “i curate and design our newsletter, the black rose. i’m also in a band —”

“the sirens of zaun. yeah, i recognize you. you’ve played a few gigs at sappho’s.” 

vi looks at you pointedly, and you take this as your cue to disappear behind the door, which appears to lead into some sort of office.

gert seems pleased, though. “then you might also recognize our lead singer….”

the person with the gold necklace, who vi does, in fact, vaguely recognize but can’t quite name, closes their laptop and waves at vi. “i’m mel. pronouns: she/her. i mostly deal with the finances around here. and, from what i understand, you’re already well acquainted with our fearless leader —”

mel is cut off by the sound of her phone alarm. 

“shit — it’s already 11:30. our set at campus radio starts soon.” mel gestures at gert. gert picks up the bright red guitar case behind them and secures it around their shoulder as mel packs up her leather satchel. 

“damn, i gotta get to class, too. the space-time continuum waits for no one.” sky gets up and gathers her things, too, stuffing yarn into a fruit-printed tote bag. “it was nice meeting you though.” she pats vi’s head affectionately before throwing out a loud: “see ya later, boss!”

mel and gert offer similar farewells, and you shout goodbye from the other room before the three of them are out the door. vi expects you to reappear a few moments later; when you don’t, she ventures into the office.

it’s smaller, but just as decorated as the lounge space. there’s a desk that seems to be more storage than actual use, littered with piles of books and old copies of the black rose. you’re sitting on a fluffy rainbow carpet that looks like every member of sesame street stitched together, writing something in a sticker-covered notebook. 

“so, violet —”

“vi’s fine,” she tells you. she decides to sit on the floor next to you rather than the zebra striped chaise lounge.

you nod, rip a page out of your notebook, and hand it to vi. there’s something a bit too intimate about knowing what your handwriting looks like before even knowing your name. 

“this is a run down of everything you’ll need to know, but real quick: we do feminist film fridays and trivia tuesdays on alternating weeks; our radical reads book club meets once a month, along with our slam poetry group, and we have a bunch of other events in between — workshops, art builds, discussion groups, and so on. sky keeps everything in the centre stocked, and occasionally the rest of us will pitch in when organizing a charity drive. our newsletter publishes the third wednesday of every month — gert puts it together, but we print in pairs since it could be a lot of work for one person. we have team meetings once a week to share updates, make sure we’re all on the same page, stuff like that. any questions?” 

“wow, okay. that’s a lot.”

you smile. “i’m sure you’ll be able to keep up, varsity.” 

“so….where do i fit in?” 

“that depends on you, really,” you tap your glitter gel pen on your notebook, thinking. “like, i’m assuming you’re not well versed in feminist literature.”

vi puffs out her chest. “based on what assumptions? i’m not a dumb jock.”

“yeah, i know you’ve made the dean list ever since your freshman year.” 

vi raises an eyebrow. “keeping tabs on me, wonder woman?” she teases. 

you laugh. “don’t flatter yourself. sky’s the one who mentioned it to me. so, unless you mean your very large, unpaid tab at sappho’s...”

“the bar i was kicked out of, you mean.”

“well, yeah, because you —” you take a deep breath. “not the point. anyways, we don’t have a complete schedule for book club, so you can maybe take the lead on one of our meetings. do you have a favorite author?” 

vi smiles at you sheepishly. “ah…..you got me there.”

“thought so,” you smirk and vi covers her blush. “if you’re curious, this bridge called my back is a good place to start. oh, and audre lorde is a classic and a personal favorite…..” you pause when you catch vi staring at you. she wants you to keep talking, to appreciate the way your eyes light up so enthusiastically, but you blink away, and a veil of professionalism falls back onto you. “sorry. anyways, we’re having trivia tomorrow — would you be able to help us out with that?

vi nods. “sure.”

“sweet.” you check your phone. “i’ve got a coffee date, so i should get going.”

“wait — you never told me your name, wonder woman.”

“well, it’s not diana prince,” you quip before finally introducing yourself. 

“nice to finally put a name to the face.” vi winks at you, standing up. she extends a hand to guide you up. your hand is cold against her skin, your metal rings even colder.

“i’ll see you around, varsity.” before you’re out the door, you turn back around. “oh, and vi?”

“yeah?”

“don’t be late.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

you had stepped away for a quick smoke break — a habit you knew you had to kick — but you’re so fucking drained and it’s only wednesday. 

you were up all night bickering with your girlfriend. it started with her admitting that she really doesn’t want to meet your friends, which transitioned into her asking you to not talk to anyone about her or your relationship, which prompted you to make a (maybe slightly insensitive) comment about how she’s welcome to stay in the closet but has no right to push you back in. 

needless to say, you did not get any sleep.

you’re about to walk outside, and finally get a moment of peace, when your phone rings. it’s your sibling, and the fact that they’re calling instead of texting tells you that this conversation is about to be (A) exhausting, (B) infuriating, or (C) both.

the correct answer is C.

it’s the same story over and over again: your dad drinks too much, your mom is absent. it hadn’t been this bad when you were growing up, but you suppose you’d been around to ease the damage, or at least step in and take care of your sibling as needed. 

“just — take a deep breath. you can come stay with me for the weekend, okay? it’ll be good for you to get away from the chaos for a bit….we’ll go apple picking if the weather’s nice, maybe start working on your halloween costume — whatever you wanna do.”

“you know, i’m not five anymore,” they mumble, stifling a small laugh along with some tears. “but…okay. that sounds nice.”

you smile to yourself, shoulder pressing against the door. “it’s a plan then. we’ll sort out the details later. and, don’t worry about mom and dad — i’ll take care of it. love you.” 

you hang up and exhale as you finally push the door open, happy to finally get one moment to breathe.

except, just as you’re greeted by a crisp breeze on this beautiful late september evening, you’re also greeted by the sight of vi pressing someone against the brick wall, their legs wrapped around her waist as she kisses their neck.

something ignites in your abdomen, familiar after many nights of seeing vi at the bar, charming her way into another woman’s bed. except, it’s definitely not jealousy, this time.

(okay, maybe it is; but only a bit.)

they spring apart upon hearing the door slam closed. you recognize who vi’s with — maya, a sophomore who’s frequently attended women’s centre events since last year. she’s always been friendly with the team, but never this friendly.

“oh my gosh, i am so sorry!”

“you don’t have to apologize,” you tell her sincerely. her cheeks are flushed, and she’s busy smoothing down her skirt, clearly trying to distance herself from vi, who’s leaning against the wall nonchalantly. “i just need to talk to violet, so do you mind giving us a sec?”

you wait until maya disappears inside to cross your arms and glare at vi.

“so, it’s violet now, huh?” she teases, wiping red lipstick off her smirk.

“you were supposed to be helping facilitate this workshop,” you note. 

“well, it is a queer sex ed workshop.” vi rolls her eyes. “i was giving maya a hands-on experience.”

you grit your teeth together. “and you just had to do that now? like you just had to go down on that third year during trivia last week?”

“well, see, i don’t have a ton of free time, and since i’m not allowed at the local lesbian bar….” she trails off, looking at you pointedly. “i’ve had to resort to multi-tasking.”

“multi-tasking.” you let an exhausted, bitter laugh slip from your lips. “you’ve showed up late to every single event in the past few weeks, and once you’re there, you’re either on your laptop, getting drunk, or hooking up with someone. tell me, violet, as captain of the yellowjackets — if someone on your team was acting like this, what would you do?”

vi narrows her eyes at you, like she can’t believe what you’re asking, and admits, “i’d call them out, tell them to do better.”

“right. and if they kept giving you empty promise after empty promise? you’d have to do something more drastic, even if you didn’t want to, yeah?”

no response.

shaking your head, you take out a cigarette. there’s only silence when you flick the lighter open and light it between your lips. you inhale deeply, letting the smoke enter your lungs, exhale slowly, and decide: “i’m gonna ask the dean to reassign you.”

“fine by me,” vi scoffs, but you swear that something close to disappointment flashes across her face. “clearly, this isn’t working out.”

“clearly.” you take another drag of your cigarette, and as vi walks back inside, you can’t help but try to get under her skin. you’ve had a bad week, between family drama and turbulence in your relationship with jules, and you’re just sick of people not giving a shit. “the year’s already started, so i doubt there’s something available. which means you’ll remain on academic probation until spring.”

and, okay — you do get some twisted satisfaction in how that makes vi stop in her tracks. you’re leaning against the wall, and she strides over to stand in front of you, her jaw and fists clenched.

“i’ll miss the whole tournament.”

you shrug, and blow smoke in her face. “i’ve given you plenty of chances.”

“but the team needs me —”

“you should have thought of that before you fucked up, varsity,” you snap. vi’s eyes widen; you’re usually more level-headed. “you’re cocky, irresponsible  — ”

“i lost my scholarship,” vi blurts out, prompting you to pause, the cigarette millimeters from your lips. 

you blink at her, blood still roaring in your ears.

“i…don’t know why that’s relevant.”

vi just sighs, so deeply that you feel it in your bones. you haven’t seen this side of her before — no flirtatious smile, no overconfident posture. instead, she slips to the ground, knees pressed to her chest. feeling a bit guilty for pushing her buttons, you slide down next to her. you offer her the cigarette, but she shakes her head.

“i…i’m going through a shitty breakup. i’ve been lashing out, and i lost my scholarship. i haven’t asked my parents for money, because the last thing i want is for them to worry about me. so, i started picking up these odd jobs to make ends meet, and the hours are a bit crazy so between school and practice and — fuck, there’s also shit going on with my sister that i won’t even get into now, but it’s a lot — and i also need to do this because i let my team down and i need to be there for them, whatever it takes, and i’m just so fucking —”

“exhausted, yeah.” 

you can see more clearly now — the slump in her shoulders, the shadows underneath her eyes; you see her more clearly. you realize that you might have more in common with violet rose atlas than you initially thought.

“so the laptop —”

“finishing assignments.”

“the drinking?”

vi juts her chin out at your smouldering cigarette. “we all have our vices.”

“and the sex?”

her lips curl into a sheepish grin, and she shrugs. “we all need to relieve stress.”

you clear your throat, blinking away from her gaze and trying to ignore how you can feel warmth radiating from her body, so close to yours. “right.”

vi runs her hand through her tar-black hair. that should have been your first hint — nothing says lesbian breakup more than terribly dyed hair and questionable decisions. 

“look, i know i can’t do everything, but i have to, and i’m still trying to figure out how.”

“well….as far as excuses go, it’s not the worst,” you admit. “thanks for telling me. i know that couldn’t have been easy.” you take a deep breath and get to your feet. “i stand by what i said earlier, though — this isn’t working out. you just can’t tell us that you’ll be helpful and not follow through. it means a lot, to a lot of people, that there’s a space like this on campus. mel, gert, sky— they all work so hard to make that happen, and that’s something i need to protect. i’m sorry.”

“wait.” vi grabs your wrist before you can leave. “i’m sorry. really, i am. i promise to do better.”

“you’ve made that promise before,” you point out. “why should i believe this time will be different?”

“because…you’re right. i’ve been too caught up in myself, in what i need, in what my team needs. i can see that you really care about your team, though, and i should have respected that. they’re — you’re — amazing, everything that you do to make people feel safe and heard and loved. i’m sorry for taking that for granted.”

wow. okay. 

you did not expect that. you’re hoping that vi can’t feel your pulse quicken at her words, but you’re glad that she’s holding on to you, keeping you steady.

“yeah, well…flattery’s not gonna get you far.” you clear your throat. “but, you’re obviously going through a lot right now, and it can drive you crazy, feeling like you’re the one who —”

“has to keep everything together,” vi finishes, sliding to the ground once more. you follow. “seems like i’m cracking under pressure, this time. fucking everything up.”

“you’ve got a reckless streak.”

“must be the aries in me,” she laughs, softly. “apparently it’s my Ieast attractive quality. along with my stubbornness and selfishness.”

“well, i don’t think that’s the whole picture,” you assure her. vi looks at you incredulously. “i won’t lie and say that your actions aren’t….thoughtless sometimes. you’re more self-centred than selfish—”

“hey!” 

“but you obviously feel some sense of responsibility, for your team, your family, for what you think is right. hell — the reason my boss asked me to kick you out is because you started a bar fight with that frat boy who was insisting he had the right dick to set lesbians straight.”

vi scoffs. “asshole.”

“i was about to throw him out, but you beat me to the punch. literally.” you nudge your shoulder against vi’s, and she chuckles. “and, yeah, you’re stubborn, which can be annoying, but it also means that you’d never give up, that you’re willing to keep trying despite the odds, so….” 

“so….?”

vi’s looking at you with the widest, softest eyes. fuck, you never expected her to be this gentle, so much so that it you want to melt to her every need. 

“i’m hoping third time’s the charm, varsity.”

vi smiles, the most sincere one she’s probably ever given you, and the scar on her lip stretches; for all your talk about responsibility, there’s a part of you who’d risk pushing your already tenuous relationship with your girlfriend to its breaking point just so you could kiss vi, guilt-free, just once. maybe you have a bit of a reckless streak, too.

“thanks, wonder woman. you won’t regret it.”

yeah. you kind of already do.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi would never admit it, but one reason she fought to keep her community service assignment here is because she wanted to keep seeing you. 

she likes getting under your skin, seeing those pretty eyes roll whenever she strides in late for a meeting, that kissable jaw clench any time you catch her tangled up with someone else. 

it almost makes up for all those nights at sappho’s you’d spent flirting back and forth, some sort of unspoken agreement between you to never go further.

sometimes, it’s just nice to have a crush in your back pocket, to know that they’ll always be there to admire and admire you back while others come and go.

the more time you spend together, though, the more vi realizes that you’re not just a fictional character in her head, in a fantasy she pictures before bed — no, you’re tangible.

vi watches as you bring special tea for gert when their period cramps are particularly painful; she listens to you console mel after another fight with her mother and offer advice to sky when she was hoping to ask out her lab partner. vi notices how you prefer your coffee with a dash of cinnamon; and she learns that you had your first kiss with a girl in your freshman year journalism class, and that your first tattoo was done by the same person. a stick-and-poke star on your ankle.

she can hear your laugh, feel the cool metal of your rings brush against her skin accidentally when you’re squeezing past her in a crowded room, smell your perfume when you hug her goodbye. you have stories and quirks and expectations and opinions that vi subconsciously files away as she gets to know you better.

you’re not just a crush, anymore. 

you’re a friend. 

vi likes having you as a friend. really — she does!

you’re a friend who makes vi’s heart jump at the sight of your name on her phone. a friend who smirks when vi blushes after you tell her she has the prettiest cheekbones you’ve ever seen. a friend who mentions this vibrator that gave you one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had, so vi orders the same one and maybe still pictures you before bed, imagining that you’re using it at the same time. except someone else might be next to you.

yeah, vi’s pretty sure you’re dating someone, but that’s something she hasn’t gathered enough information on. 

not that it matters. she wouldn’t be interested in anything serious, anyways, after the mindfuck that was her relationship with caitlyn, and the damage she’s still having to heal from.

though, if that hadn’t happened, vi would have never gotten into a fight with maddie nolan, the second striker for the piltover knights, who taunted her during an exhibition game about how caitlyn is so much happier now that she isn’t disgracing herself with a filthy zaunite. vi would have never been banned from the first half of the tournament and chewed out by coach sevika for fucking up the yellowjackets’ chance at nationals. 

vi would have never been put on academic probation and assigned to 100 hours of community service, either.

she certainly wouldn’t have been here, now, in the women’s centre office close to midnight on a tuesday, folding the most recent issue of the black rose when you walk in.

“oh. hey, v.” you drop down on the zebra-striped couch, your tote bag falling to the ground. “i thought sky was gonna be here tonight.”

vi shakes her head, removing one earbud and letting it dangle from the cord. “she’s got this huge chem report due tomorrow, had to meet up with viktor to get it done.”

“right…” you sigh and lie back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. a few moments pass, and there’s only your steady breathing. “what are you listening to?”

your eyes are closed when vi settles in next to you. it’s a relatively tight fit, but it doesn’t seem like either of you particularly care. vi gently places an earbud in your ear.

you snort, opening your eyes. “you could have just said the cranberries.”

“i’m surprised you recognize them,” vi quips. “it’s not your usual angry girl music.”

“well, sometimes people surprise you. this is actually one of my favorite songs,” you explain. “it’s in one of my favorite movies, too.”

“you’ve got mail?”

you furrow your brows. “when harry met sally.”

vi shakes her head. “no, ‘dreams’ is definitely in you’ve got mail. but, i agree that when harry met sally is a better movie.”

“you’ve watched nora ephron movies and enjoyed them?”

“well, sometimes people surprise you,” vi teases. “i can appreciate a good love story as much as the next person.”

you let out a short, airy laugh. you tilt your head and you’re so close to vi that you’re practically exchanging the same breath. your eyes land on her lips for a millisecond, and vi starts to lean in before you sit up abruptly. 

“i could use some alcohol.” you climb over vi and go to the desk, pull out a half empty bottle of fruit-flavored soju from a drawer. you grab two mugs — the hayley kiyoko one, and another with frida kahlo. you stop short of pouring, looking to vi. she nods. 

soon enough, you’ve got your legs strewn along vi’s lap, sipping lychee infused alcohol. 

“can i ask you something?”

“anything,” vi answers, squeezing your calf.

“why’d you and caitlyn break up?” the question hangs in the air for a second before you add: “if you don’t wanna talk about it though, i understand.” 

shit. it’s definitely not vi’s favorite topic of conversation, but….

“i think she thought that i was one of the good ones, that regardless of the way i grew up or the blood that coursed through my veins, i would be her perfect little charity case. people would be like: future president kiramman definitely cares about the poor — just look at the broke angry lesbian she’s turned into her docile wife!” 

you suck in a sharp breath. “fuck that.” 

“yeah,” vi laughs sadly. “the worst part is that she wanted me to be vulnerable with her, so i was, because i thought the more i opened up, the more she’d love me, but, in the end….i was too messy. i was too much.” 

vi hates the lump that starts to build in her throat, the tears that threaten to spill. she cannot cry in front of you —

you grab her hand. your skin is cool against hers, and it eases her quickening heartbeat.

“you’re not too much, v.” your voice soothes her like honey, trickling down her throat. “it sucks, though, when they ask you to rip your heart out of your chest and get mad at you for bleeding out in front of them.”

“shit, i never thought of it so…viscerally, but that’s exactly what it feels like.”

“well you’re not a creative writing major,” you quip. “i know it still hurts — trust me, i know — but your heart was never hers if she treated you that badly. you deserve more.” 

is it the alcohol messing with her brain, or does it look like you want to kiss her?

fuck. 

vi clears her throat. “why’re you asking?”

you pull your hand away, take a sip of your drink. “jules broke up with me a few days ago.”

you’re single now. good to know. 

“what happened?”

“i caught her kissing someone at a bar. a boy.” you roll your eyes. “maybe she just wasn’t ready, which is fine, but when we had it out, she told me that what we had isn’t what romance is supposed to feel or look like, which sucked. especially after being so….vulnerable with her.”

“you offered her that bleeding heart of yours, didn’t you?” 

you click your tongue, pouring some more soju into each mug. “course i did, v. and it didn’t mean anything in the end. because relationships suck.”

“i’ll drink to that.” 

you cheers, keeping eye contact. 

“and you know what?” you take a big, long gulp. “i know that relationships aren’t just about sex, but i’ve been having to get myself off for months now and sometimes, i just want someone else to —”

“take care of you?”

vi sips her drink, watching you mull over her words.

“not sure if i’d put it like that,” you decide. “i just miss that excitement. when another person wants to discover what makes you feel good, and wanting to learn how to make them feel good, too. i miss having that connection with someone.” 

“i’m guessing you didn’t have that with jules, then.” 

“ha! no. and paula…the girl i dated before….let’s just say, she didn’t give a shit whether i felt good, in any sense.” you shift in your seat; vi senses there’s a story there, but she doesn’t push. “how about future president kiramman — she take care of you?”

vi can’t help but laugh. “nah. i mostly took care of her. she sure liked it when i got down on my knees for her.”

you hum. 

“lucky her.” 

you wink at vi, and she chokes on her drink. 

i would gladly do it for you, if that’s something you want.

“is that a genuine offer? because, if you’re joking —”

shit. did vi say that out loud? 

vi’s heart is beating out of her chest, but she sits up straighter to regain some level of composure. she nods. 

no use in turning back now.

“i’m serious, wonder woman.”

you stare at her. “i really can’t have another relationship that’s just gonna crash and burn.”

“that’s not what i’m offering. i care about our - our friendship. i care about you.”

you swallow. “i care about you, too.”

“right, and when our friends need help with something….”

“we help them,” you finish. “so, you’re really just talking about casual sex. right now, on this couch?”

“yes,” vi answers. maybe a bit too quickly. “if that’s what you want, too.”

“that’s what i want,” you reply. maybe a bit too quickly, too. “but none of this one sided bullshit: you do me, i do you.”

vi takes your mug, puts it next to hers on the floor, and repositions your bodies so that she’s hovering above you, hips set between yours.

“sounds perfect to me.” 

you finally, finally kiss and it feels oddly…familiar. you taste like lychees and nicotine and cherries, burnt sweetness, and your skin is so fucking soft.

“wait.” you tug on vi’s hair and she has to bite back a moan at how fucked out you already look underneath her, all wide-eyed and desperate. “just so we’re 100% clear: just sex.”

vi nods once. “no strings attached.”

“it’ll be casual.” 

“we’re not doing the whole relationship thing.”

“promise?”

vi sticks out her pinky, grinning at you sheepishly. you roll your eyes ever so slightly, but still wrap your pinky around hers.

“promise.” 

so, you take care of each other. no strings attached.

because that’s what friends are for, right? 

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽

are u busy rn? got out of my lab early and im bored 

wndr wmn ☆

yeah, im at work

v ⚽️

leave early. im BORED and HORNY

wndr wmn ☆

ofc you are 

v ⚽️

pls u love it 

u know #6 isn’t just my jersey number ;))

i’m implying that i will give u 6 consecutive orgasms

wndr wmn ☆

yeah i got that 

v ⚽️

so….

wndr wmn ☆

….

leaving now

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“you sure about this, v?” 

vi hums, looking up at you through hooded eyes. “isn’t it every girl’s dream to get tied up by the lasso of truth, wonder woman?”

you’re straddling her, still wearing your red and gold bodysuit underneath blue shorts that you’ve decorated with silver stars. your makeshift lasso of truth — really, just some gold rope — sparkles, tying vi’s wrists together to the headboard.

the theme of the women’s centre halloween celebration is always the same — dress up at your favorite female icon — but you’d never seen someone look as good as vi does. she dressed as trinity from the matrix, all tight, black leather and vinyl, showcasing her defined muscles as the gods intended.

now, she’s left in a sleeveless cropped top and black boyshorts, with her pants and jacket thrown somewhere on your apartment floor. 

you have a feeling she really liked your costume, too, because she practically begged you to take control tonight. 

“if it gets too much, our safeword will be —”

“sappho.” the slight whine of impatience in her voice sends a jolt right to your core.

“perfect.”

you kiss her lips, her jaw, her neck, your lipstick leaving angry red marks. you lodge your bare thigh in between vi’s legs, biting your bottom lip when you feel her already warm and wet, when you hear her whimper as you apply more pressure to where she needs you most. you reach into your nightstand for your vibrator and switch it on, teasing vi’s nipples through her shirt. 

vi moans, deep and loud. not even thirty seconds, and she’s already pulling at the restraints, the headboard creaking. 

“are you gonna be a good girl for me, violet?” you coo, inching the vibrator lower and lower, feeling her shake underneath you. “because we’ve got all night, and you better not break my bed.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“hey, so — i found these in between one of the couch cushions, thought maybe they might be yours.”

you can only spare a glance at the item mel is holding up — you’re grading freshman papers, focused on this one student’s thesis about gender fluidity in shakespeare’s twelfth night.

“oh, those are vi’s.”

“hm. and just how is it that you know what her underwear looks like?”

you stop writing mid-sentence and look up at mel who’s giving you a pointed look. 

you and vi had been the ones to clean up after feminist film friday last week, and one thing led to another….

in your defense: vi had been wearing these low cut jeans that showed off her v-line, and you could tell she didn’t have her usual sports bra on because you could see the outlines of her nipple rings through her tight, white tank top. it took everything in you to wait until people cleared out during the credits of the watermelon woman to pin her down and have her whimpering for you.

“i just…guessed.”

“right.” mel rolls her eyes. “so, you and violet are….what? fucking? dating?”

you clear your throat and take a sip of lukewarm coffee. 

“we’re keeping it casual,” is all you say.

“are you sure that’s a good idea?”

you just shrug.

“just — be careful,” mel, always the diplomatic one, eases. she walks towards you, sits on the edge of the desk, and hands you the pair of black briefs. “i know we all teased you about it before, but i don’t want to see you get hurt. i’ve seen you get your heart broken one too many times.”

“it’s fine, mel,” you assure her, grabbing the piece of fabric and shoving it at the bottom of your bag. you’re visiting their owner after this, anyways. “vi and i are just friends helping each other out.”

mel raises an eyebrow. “well, you and i have been friends for years and we’ve never gotten that close.”

“that’s different.”

“how so?”

“i appreciate your concern,” you say, avoiding the question. “but it’s fine. nice, actually.” 

“it’s your life,” mel sighs. “maybe don’t fuck on our couches anymore, though.” 

your cheeks heat up. you turn your attention back to the essay in front of you.

“noted.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi starts showing up at your place after soccer. 

she’s allowed back on the field during games now, so she appears with a winning grin, a grass-stained uniform and fresh bruises on her knees. one time, she had the remnants of a bloody nose after a header gone wrong, and you could taste copper when she pressed her lips against yours before she hopped in the shower.

you keep her go-to body wash stocked — bergamot and cedarwood scented old spice — but she always walks out of the bathroom smelling like your mango-vanilla shower gel. sometimes even your coconut shampoo. she slips on one of your oversized graphic tees, drapes a light purple towel around her shoulders to avoid staining your shirt with her cheaply dyed black hair, fading back to pink with each wash. she walks over to the fridge in her soft gray sweatpants rolled at the ankles and cracks open one of the spiced-pear red bulls as you pull ingredients out for dinner. usually something quick and simple, since it’s always a long week and neither of you have capacity for anything more.

vi chops garlic and tells you about her game; you boil water for pasta and tell her about the latest drama between students in your literature class. 

you pretend you have all the time in the world.

because you both know that vi’s got the strap packed in her gym bag, that soon one thing will lead to another and she’ll be fucking you with it until you’re both sweaty and spent and exhausted in the best way possible. 

you’ve established this routine together, agreed upon several unspoken rules: no pillow talk once it’s over; no actually falling asleep in the other’s bed; no crossing that thin sapphic line between friendship and romance. 

no breaking that promise.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

wanna come over? i’m watching bend it like beckham

v ⚽️

MY FAVORITE!!

i would love 2

but lucky fell asleep on me 

we just finished devouring an xl pepperoni pizza 

wndr wmn

remind me again why your one-eyed golden retriever likes pizza so much?

v ⚽️

come on it’s cute

[v ⚽️ sent an attachment]

wndr wmn

yeah, you’re cute

v ⚽️

<3 

come over here instead?

wndr wmn

omw

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi whines, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“come on — hurry up.”

“you practically begged for this, v,” you chide. 

“yeah, but you’re taking too long and your hands are fucking freezing.”

“it’s the irony deficiency, babe,” you quip. “now, are you gonna be a good girl and let me finish?”

“fine,” vi grumbles. she does stop squirming, though. you hum, pleased.

you certainly didn’t miss the way her breath hitches at the nickname. vi’s right hand, freshly polished, tightens on your thigh.

you’re not sure why she called you at 1:27am for your help with this, or why she couldn’t just do it herself, but you’re sitting on her lap, painting her nails the color of pomegranate juice, a color she had chosen from the options you brought.

sure, you were about to turn in for an early night, but the moment you heard her voice through the phone, you rushed over to her place wearing nothing but your pajamas — plaid boxer shorts and a spiderman shirt that vi wore last time she was at yours, and you haven’t washed since.

you stretch time out as much as you can, meticulous in every stroke, but painting her nails doesn’t take much longer. you start to move off her lap — it’s probably time for you to leave — but vi grabs your hips, a playful smirk on her lips.

oh, right. that’s the type of relationship — friendship — you and vi agreed upon.

shit. you’re pretty sure that you’re wearing your days of the week underwear. is it a turn-off that you’ve got on a saturday pair on a thursday?

it doesn’t really matter, anyways.

instead of initiating a kiss, vi takes the bottle of polish from you, swaps it for black, and gestures for your hand. you blink at her, until you realize what she’s asking.

“oh! you don’t have to —”

“you do me, i do you.” vi grins at you. “i thought that was our arrangement.” 

you laugh, feeling warmth radiate from your chest.

it’s kind of….adorable, the furrow of her brow, the way she curses under her breath when a drop of nail polish falls onto your skin. she’s surprisingly gentle, too, one of her hands holding yours for support while the other paints. 

while she focuses on getting the polish onto your nails in even layers, you busy yourself by counting vi’s freckles. 

violet rose atlas has a constellation of freckles sparkling across her cheeks. you hope there’s enough time in the world for you to memorize every single one.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽️

do u need more nicotine gum? 

im at cvs rn

wndr wmn

yeah that’d be great!!

v ⚽️

ok 

i’ll get u the cinnamon one

that’s the one u like right?

wndr wmn

yep!!!

v ⚽️

okay cool

im also gonna get u some of those iron supplements

wndr wmn

my hero 🙏🏽

thank you sm

v ⚽️

ofc

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“that red head was trying to get your number.”

“are you jealous, v?”

vi scoffs, sipping her cherry coke. “of course not. i’m just observant.”

you’d convinced your manager to let vi back into sappho’s. it’s nice, really, to see her back here again. 

nice, but different. 

gone are the days of staring at her from across the room, where she would be charming someone else, and only flirting with you when she came over to get another whiskey for herself and vodka something for her date. instead, she jokes around with mel, sky, and gert if they’re around, and sometimes brings her teammates in as well to play a game of pool. she usually has one drink, and then switches to something non-alcoholic. sometimes, vi doesn’t even come in for a drink; she just stops by to say hi before a team dinner or a study session.

(it’s fine — never once have you gotten an overpriced coffee from the cafe she started working at mid-october, and you probably stop by once a week between errands. that’s your excuse, anyways.)

so. things are different, but nice. 

you lean across the sticky counter. “you want me to get down on my knees for you right now to prove which girl here i’d like to go home with?”

“baby….” vi shifts on the bar stool. it’s hard to tell under the dim multicolored lights, but you’re pretty sure she’s blushing, too. 

“i think we both know you’d draw a bit too much attention to yourself. especially when i use my tongue to —”

“my car’s outside.” 

you smirk. “my break’s in 15.”

you used to spend your breaks in the alley outside sappho’s burning through a cigarette. now you find yourself knee-deep in the passenger seat, eating vi out like she’s the last thing you’ll ever taste. 

“f-fuck,” vi groans. 

“feels good, yeah?” you tease her clit with her tongue, sliding two fingers into her easily. you work fast, determined to let her finish before you run out of time.

“so fucking good. i’m gonna —”

she clenches around your fingers; you lap her up eagerly, let her writhe against your face until she’s had enough. 

you sit back on your knees once her hips still, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. you crane your neck to check the time on the dashboard, when you notice something in the footwell.

“vi! i thought i lost this.”

vi grins at you sheepishly, chest still heaving as you hold up the complete works of audre lorde, a tattered book with a well-worn spine and dog-eared pages. 

“sorry. i meant to put it back on your nightstand once i was finished.”

you open to where she’s placed a makeshift bookmark — the ticket from an underground sirens of zaun show you’d both gone to. you’ve had this copy since freshman year, the scribble of your handwriting in the margins of practically on every page.

“it’s okay,” you tell her. “you like it so far?”

“yeah.” she grabs the book from you gently, thumbing through the pages. you wonder if vi registers the curves of her own smile, tender and bashful. “honestly, i’m not usually a fan of poetry, but it’s really cool how lorde writes about desire between women in such a tangible way, you know? i really liked this one verse in ‘recreation:’ ‘touching you, i catch midnight as moon fires set in my throat.’ it’s just so - so beautiful, the idea of something so domestic and mundane being almost magical, because that’s what it’s really like when —”

you don’t even realize that you’re staring until vi looks up at you and freezes.

“sorry,” she clears her throat, closing the book and setting it aside. “did i say something wrong?”

you assure vi that she did nothing wrong. 

you exit her car, the taste of her lingering on your tongue, the feeling of her keeping your body warm on this cold november night.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

hey

are you in town during break?

v⚽️

having dinner at my dads’ on friday but otherwise im here

why? u gonna miss me?? 

wndr wmn

lol

im having ppl over for friendsgiving on sunday

if you wanna join

v ⚽️

hell yeah

can i bring anything?

wndr wmn

just your pretty face

i’ll take care of the rest

turkey, cranberry, sauce, stuffing, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie…

etc. etc.

v ⚽️

damn!!!!

full course meal

wndr wmn

yep

im basically wife material

v⚽️

pls we’re so over gender norms

but yeah

you are

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi has never been the type to wait by the phone for a girl to text, or to show up at her place after not hearing from her in a while, worried that she might have done something wrong. 

yet here she is, standing outside your door.

it’s cool, though. completely platonic behavior.

she knocks. 

there’s no answer. 

she knocks again.

nothing.

vi waits another second, leaning her shoulder against the door.

“it’s me, wonder woman,” she tries. 

hope flutters in her chest as she hears you shuffle, unchain the lock. vi stumbles as you throw the door open, but she recovers quickly to find you: smudged black eyeliner enhancing the shadows underneath your eyes, hair in disarray, clothes disheveled. 

“i’m not really in the mood for sex.”

vi can’t help but laugh, even though your comment feels like a punch to the face.

“wow. figured you would think more of me by now than just some horny teenage boy.”

“look, vi —”

vi? 

since when do you call her that?

“i’m sorry i missed the meeting today. i texted mel —”

damn, so your phone does work. 

you’ve just been ignoring her calls and texts.

“but i’m just… it’s not a good time, okay? i’ll see you around.”

ah. 

the classic generic excuse and non-committal statement combo.

you start to close the door on her before she even has a chance to get a word in.

the hits just keep coming. 

thankfully, vi’s always been a good fighter.

“wait.” vi places her palm firmly on the door before you can fully shut her out. “i’m just here to check on you.” 

your face remains unchanged.

“okay, well, you’ve checked on me.” 

“yeah, i’ve checked on you. you look like shit.”

you glare at her. “well i’m sorry i didn’t have the time to get all prettied up for you. i know that you like me better that way.”

“that’s not what i  —”  vi inhales sharply. she’s a fighter, but she doesn’t want to fight you. “mel dropped the news — about admin officially cutting our funding. i knew how that would affect you, so….” vi lifts the bag of takeout. “i brought some thai food for us to share. a pomegranate, too, because i know you like seasonal fruit. it’s been a while and honestly, i just….i just wanted to spend time with you.”

you exhale, your eyes softening. 

there. 

a hesitant smile, an invitation to come inside.

there are clothes all over your floor and dishes piled high in the sink. your desk is littered with empty boxes of cereal and cans of an energy drink that normally you’d never touch. the blanket that sky had crocheted for you — lavender and pink checkered — is unfolded on your couch, your laptop half-closed on the coffee table in front next to two stacks of printed essays — ones marked with purple pen, the others untouched. in contrast, your bed is still perfectly made. 

you take the blanket and wrap it around your shoulders, sitting at the kitchen table and curling into yourself. vi busies herself in cracking open the pomegranate, putting the seeds into the last clean bowl in your cupboard. the palms of her arm wraps are now stained a reddish-purple, but she doesn’t care.

vi manages to find two pairs of clean chopsticks for the thai food, and the two of you eat in silence. 

“so….” vi starts, watching you stab a piece of chicken before popping it into your mouth. “you wanna talk about it, or….?”

“what’s there to talk about?”

“well, for starters, maybe tell me what’s been getting you into full hibernation mode? we haven’t seen each other in, like, a week.”

“six days,” you correct, chewing a mouthful of noodles. “last tuesday, we played pool during my closing shift at sappho’s. i lost. you made me down two shots of tequila because you’re a menace and you know i hate it.” 

“yeah, but i drove you home and tucked you into bed with water and advil for later, so i’m also a gentleman. so, just tell me what’s been going on. we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

“it’s fine,” you grumble.

“clearly, it’s not. just tell me what you need.”

“what i need is to not be distracted,” you huff, avoiding eye contact. “i certainly don’t need you —”

“taking care of you, i know.” vi grabs your hand from across the table. she feels you stiffen on instinct, and then ease into the heat of her skin. “trust me, i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to be. so — humor me.”

vi squeezes your hand, hoping to reassure you. 

you sigh. “i’ve just — i’ve been spiralling trying to figure out how the centre can keep going with, like, half our required budget, trying to see if we can get some external donors and i still need to finalize the venue and equipment rentals for our last open mic….and….and my sibling called again to tell me that things haven’t been great at home, so i want to go down there this weekend to sort everything out, but my car hasn’t been starting….plus i’m behind on grading, and i told my supervisor i’d have a complete draft ready by thursday and i’m not even halfway done, and that’s the same day we’re having that art build for the climate rally on friday, and i’ve been having the worst cramps since this afternoon, and all i wanna do is pass out and sink into my duvet, but i need to keep going —”

vi squeezes your hand again, this time more firmly. “you need to slow down.” 

“i can’t.” you huff. “i have to keep everything from falling apart, and if i don’t….”

vi shifts to the chair next to yours, still holding your hand. 

“but you can’t do it all if you’re too exhausted to take care of yourself. from the looks of it, you’ve been living off of frosted flakes, red bull, and zero sleep.” 

you shrug. “if that’s what it takes.”

“if that’s what it takes, then maybe it’s not worth it.”

“don’t say that,” you tell her. “it’s all worth it. i just wish it wasn’t so…heavy.”

vi nods, because she really, truly understands. she gives you the advice she can see you giving her in another context.

“you ever think that maybe it wouldn’t feel as heavy if you…i don’t know…weren’t too stubborn to ask for help.”

“there are things that are my responsibility, violet,” you tell her, slipping your hand away. you reach for the bowl of pomegranate seeds, meticulously picking up one at a time with your chopsticks and crushing it in between your molars. “i can’t just pass those off to someone else.” 

“fine. but what about other things? like the women’s centre stuff — we’re a team, right? so we’ll figure it out together, divide the labor so you’re not doing everything. and, maybe ask your supervisor for an extension, too? and, well, i don’t really need my car this weekend, so you’re welcome to borrow it.”

you pause, narrowing your eyes at her. 

“you said…. ‘we.’”

“well, yeah. i’m part of the team, aren’t i?”

“but you’ll be finished with your hours in a week. there’s no reason for you to stay.”

“of course there is,” vi whispers, studying your face as it morphs from suspicious to something else, something gentler. 

her heart is pounding as she waits for you to say something, so vi starts to dig into the pomegranate seeds, the juice surprisingly more sweet than sour. some dribbles out from the corner of her lips, and you reach over to wipe it away with your thumb.

“i’d love for you to stay,” you hum, smiling, and vi feels her chest glow with a brightness it seems only you can bring out. “turns out you give pretty good advice.”

“so…you’ll consider it.”

you shrug again. “maybe. i am very tempted to take you up on the car thing.”

“all yours, if you want it.”

“are you sure?”

“it’s fine, wonder woman. i’ll just carpool to practice — it’s better for the environment, anyways. can’t show up to the climate rally as a hypocrite, can i?” she jokes, and you roll your eyes playfully. “and, i’ll try to fix your car while you’re away.”

“wow. you are a gentleman.”

“gentleman? baby, i’m husband material.”

you actually laugh.

“i thought we were over gender norms,” you quip. “but yeah. you are.” 

vi’s cheeks heat up at your statement. you most definitely notice her blushing because you break out into a toothy grin

“i missed you, v,” you admit. “any other words of wisdom?”

despite your tender smile, you look exhausted. vi just wants to hold you through it all, tell you it’s gonna be okay. instead, she settles for placing a gentle hand on your cheek, running her thumb over the deep shadow underneath your eye. 

“get some rest, pretty girl.”

a few hours later, you wake up alone. 

you have a vague memory of warm arms wrapped around you, a heart beating steadier than yours. your sheets smell like old spice, your apartment smells like fresh laundry. you get out of bed and notice that there are no more dishes in your sink, no more cans or containers on any surface. all the clothes you’d been meaning to wash are now carefully folded on your couch. 

there’s a bright pink sticky note on your nightstand next to the keys to vi’s car.

you talk in your sleep. something about stargazing? maybe we can go when you get back. 

drive safe. text me if you need anything.

xxx

- v

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

zaun yellowjackets vs. piltover knights. 

two minutes left in overtime. 

one goal standing in the way of their trophy. one goal to end piltover’s monopoly over the title of national champions. 

caitlyn probably told her knights to be extra aggressive — win by any means necessary — so it’s been a long game of dirty plays and intentional fouls.

vi always puts her heart into every single game, but this time —

this time, it’s personal. 

zaun’s defense works to regain possession and prevent piltover’s attack. ashe manages to intercept a pass between two knights, and is quick in dribbling the ball until mid-field. she sends it over to vi with a swift kick. vi’s quick on her feet, catching piltover’s defense by surprise, sprinting closer and closer to the goal. she makes it to the penalty box.

this could be the winning point. 

vi has it, too. she’s so fucking close, about to fake out the goalie and kick into that hard-to-defend sweet spot — until a sharp, pointy elbow collides with her ribs so abruptly, it knocks the wind out of her lungs. she stumbles forward over the ball, knees skidding onto the grass. whoever it is also steps on vi’s cleat for good measure. 

“fuck!” she looks up to see who it is.

of course. it’s maddie fucking nolan, who doesn’t spare so much as a glance as the ref doles out a red card. she nods at caitlyn as she walks off the field, no doubt following her captain’s orders.

her teammates help vi to her feet, and the ref makes sure everyone is in position for the penalty kick.

this could be the winning point. vi just has to ignore caitlyn’s icy stare from a few feet away, and the heart threatening to beat out of her chest. 

vi takes a deep breath. 

she looks to the stands. among the crowd of screaming fans, zaunites and pilties alike, is vi’s family. they’re cheering.

you’re there too, sitting next to them. 

everyone is staring at vi, waiting for the whistle, waiting for her to make the shot, but the only person she stares back at is you.

you’ve got this, v, you had whispered to her the night before. she couldn’t sleep, so she called you. vi wishes she was back there, now — tangled in flannel sheets, lucky snoring at the foot of the bed, gazing up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling until she finally fell asleep in your arms.

but, vi’s on the field. 

and this is the winning point. 

the whistle blows. 

she makes the shot.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“i told you i wasn’t a jinx!” powder sticks her tongue out at mylo.

she’s all sweat and dirt and adrenaline, but, fuck, if vi isn’t so, incredibly happy and proud of her team, of everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve accomplished.

it almost doesn’t feel real.

just like it doesn’t feel real, seeing you talk animatedly with her sister’s boyfriend, laughing along with her siblings, smiling as you watch her dads hug and praise her.

when it’s your turn to do the same, you practically leap into vi’s arms, gushing about how amazing she was, how proud you are of her. 

“this looks good on you,” vi hums, as you pull away from another hug. her fingers play with the bottom of the jersey, and she bites the inside of her cheek to ground herself in the moment. you, with her family. you, in her jersey. “thinking of joining the yellowjackets?”

“i think i’ll leave the soccer to you,” you tell her. “you were amazing out there. guess i should be calling you wonder woman from now on, huh?”

“wonder woman! that’s where i remember you from!” vander suddenly exclaims, stepping closer to the pair of you. silco turns around, too. “you once tried to get into the last drop with a fake id, didn’t you? under the name diana prince?”

“shit,” you laugh nervously, eyes flickering between vander and the ground as if you’re once again a teenager caught in the act. “i….probably did.”

“i kicked you out, told you to go home to themyscira.”

“yeah…i….i remember that.” you nod slowly, furrowing your brows. “except, i didn’t want to go home that night, so i lingered outside,” you continue. you turn to vi, and your face softens. “which was when you —”

“brought two glasses of cherry coke and rum,” vi finishes; she sees flashes of that night as you gaze into her eyes. “we climbed onto the roof and —”

that was her first kiss. vi never even realized until now, but —

you were her first kiss.

“i can’t believe i forgot that.”

“weird, how memory works,” you agree, tilting your head curiously, looking at vi with a newfound interest, like a ghost from your past.

“well, isn’t this a story we’ll be sharing on your wedding day!” vander chuckles, ruffling vi’s hair. 

“don’t pressure them, darling,” silco chides, but the smirk growing on his face gives him away. he’s loving this drama. “they’re barely 23 — i doubt they’ve discussed marriage.” 

“oh, we’re not —”

“yeah, we’re just —”

“friends,” you say at the same time, careful to avoid eye contact.

vi feels like she might burst into flames at the knowing look vander and silco share.

“well, violet, would your friend like to join us for a celebratory dinner?” silco asks.

so that’s how you’re sitting between powder and claggor, listening to them talk your ear off about the young innovator’s competition. vi’s sitting across from you, next to ekko, who occasionally pipes in. 

you’re here, sharing the tradition of a post-game meal with vi’s family at the local pizza parlour. 

caitlyn never even wanted to meet vi’s family.

a few pizzas are ordered for the table, and you eat and laugh and sip your soda along with everyone else. you make a flower out of your paper napkin and hand it to isha, who’s on the other side of powder, and she gives you a toothy grin in return. you answer all the standard questions about your job and major and plans for the future.

“after graduation, i’m probably gonna take a break, get some work experience,” you explain. “maybe save up some money for law school a few years down the road.”

“you wanna be a lawyer, huh? you sure you wanna be friends with a felon, then?” powder asks, blowing bubbles into her soda through her straw. 

vi coughs, choking on a mushroom. 

“powder!” 

“what! she never told you?”

you shake your head, glancing over at vi who suddenly finds it hard to look you in the eye. your foot has been pressed against hers underneath the table all night; you pull it away now. she takes a big gulp of water; vi looks over at vander and silco for help, but they seem to be caught up in their own conversation.

“oh, damn! ” mylo adds, leaning over. “it’s a great story!” 

“guys, maybe don’t —”

“but it’s a great story!” mylo insists. “shows what a badass you are!”

“she didn’t do anything serious, like murder or anything,” powder clarifies. “it was really just her pissing off some enforcers —”

“rightfully so,” ekko adds. 

claggor nods. “we were just kids. they were harassing us for some bullshit, disruption of property or whatever, so vi steps in and things get heated —”

“it takes three of enforcers to get her handcuffed, but she manages to get a few nasty hits in before they send her off to stillwater —”

“she spends three days there —”

“i thought it was two —”

“no, it was three —”

“needless to say, this isn’t the first time vi has been sentenced to community service, but it seems she’s really enjoying it this time, thanks to you,” powder finishes, winking at you. 

“well that’s….quite the story,” you finally say, voice steady. 

“oh! let’s tell her about the time she stole from some enforcers that were hoarding food —”

as powder continues the story, and you listen intently, it’s hard to read your expression.

are you ashamed of being friends with her? disgusted by her family, her past? regretful that you ever let her touch you, let her into your life? 

vi’s stomach turns when your eyes collide; she’s been down this road before, and vi’s scared that she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

she pushes her chair back and disappears to the bathroom before she has to watch you walk away.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

there’s a knock on the door.

“someone’s in here,” vi says. she grips the edge of the counter so hard, her knuckles turn white. 

deep breaths. 

this isn’t the same as before.

this isn’t caitlyn, who threw vi out like a piece of trash when something better came along. 

then again, you never knew this much about vi’s past. you’re well within your right to —

there’s another knock.

“v? it’s me….i have to get going, but i wanted to check on you before i leave.”

“okay,” vi clips. she looks up at herself in the mirror; she had splashed her face with cold water to calm herself down. a drop falls from her chin. “bye.”

“are you sure you’re okay?”

“i’m fine. see you around.”

you sigh, and vi hears you settle against the doorframe. 

“violet, let me in,” you press. “please?” 

“i’m fine. you can leave.”

“okay, well, i’m not leaving until i see that gorgeous face of yours one more time,” you whisper. “i got all dolled up just for you, and all i wanna do is give you a proper goodbye….” 

well, when you put it like that….

vi grabs some paper towel to dry her face and fixes her hair before opening the door for you. you smile knowingly, enter and lock the door behind you. 

you lean against the door as vi leans against the counter, the marble digging into her lower back.

“okay, i’ll start because, frankly, i don’t have time to waste,” you state after a few moments of silence. “nothing i’ve learned about you tonight has changed how i see you. it’s just confirmed some things.”

“right. like how impulsive and violent and reckless i’ve always been,” she lists glumly, unable to look you in the eye.

“maybe you are all those things,” you pause. “but, i don’t fucking care. i mean, i do, because it’s part of you and i like who you are. i like you.”

your words do wonders to ease the tension throughout vi’s body, and she feels like she can actually take a breath.

vi’s eyes lock onto yours.

“you do?”

“i like who you are, every part of it,” you tell her. “well, i don’t like that you’ve had to fight your way through an unbelievably fucked up system ever since you were a kid, but the bottom line is that you’re the strongest, most compassionate person i know.”

vi blinks at you.

“funny, i was just thinking the same thing about you the other day.”

neither of you say anything for a minute or so, letting the sentiment linger in the small space between you. once more, you’re the one to break the ice.

“well, you know what they say about great minds….” you step closer to vi. you take her chin between your thumb and your index finger. "can you guess what i’m thinking now?" 

vi shakes her head, throat suddenly very dry.

“i’m thinking that i’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”

“what’s stopped you?”

you grin. “i didn’t want to make a fuss in front of your family, but now that we’re alone….”

vi doesn't say anything, but instead closes the gap between your lips.

you kiss her, harsh and messy, tongue and teeth, swallowing her moans as your fingers snake down the waistband of her pants. you pull vi’s bottom lip with your teeth before moving to her neck, nipping along the outline of her tattoo. you bite down harder on her skin, right at her pulse point. 

"what’s that you said earlier —” a low groan tumbles from vi’s lips when you start to suck just above her collarbones. another when your tongue soothes over the sting. “about a proper goodbye…?” she tugs your hair so that you’re looking right at her. 

it’s quite the sight — your lips swollen, chest heaving, eyes curious and lustful.

“anything you want,” you whisper, all breathless. 

vi hums. she slips a hand underneath the frayed hem of your denim skirt, and you gasp as her nails scrape against your inner thigh.

she likes that you’re here. here for her.

"get on your knees for me, sweetheart.”

she pulls down her pants along with her briefs, as you kneel before her without hesitation.

you drape one of her legs over your shoulder, giving your tongue better access to her cunt. vi grips your hair tighter, bringing you in closer, and you moan, sending vibrations up her body.

"fuck," vi hisses. you add a finger, while your tongue works her clit. 

you bring her to the edge, stay with her even as her thighs clench around your skull. she expects you to get back on your feet right away, but you stay, adding another finger and sucking her clit. she moans your name.

you pull away slightly. "one more, pretty girl," you promise. your chin glistens with vi’s release; you lick your lips as you gaze up at her through thick eyelashes. "can you do that for me?" she nods furiously, and you get back to work.

after letting her ride your tongue and fingers through another orgasm, you kiss her ankle before releasing her leg. vi pulls you up to your feet, sucks the taste of herself off your tongue.

you pull away slightly, heart racing against vi’s chest. 

vi swipes her thumb over the smudged lipstick below your lip. she studies you, admires you, like you’re a fucking work of art that belongs in a gallery, like you didn’t just fucked her through two consecutive orgasms in the bathroom at a pizza parlour while wham's "last christmas" plays through shitty speakers.

"take these off." vi tugs at your tights. you do as instructed, slipping off your underwear as well. she pulls you towards her, and lodges a leg in between yours. your bare cunt brushes against her thigh, back and forth as she guides your hips. "i can't believe you got all dressed up…. wearing my jersey, and this pretty little skirt even though it’s so cold outside. all for me?"

vi flexes her thigh muscles, pushing you down faster and harder. you whimper.

"all – all for you.”

vi feels her pussy clench, with the desperation in your voice, the stickiness of your heat against her skin, the smell of the two of you intertwining. your orgasm crashes into you, and vi holds you through it. 

you kiss her ever so sweetly before removing yourself from her grasp, smoothing down your skirt and looking around for your underwear.

"where are my...." 

you look over as vi tucks your fuschia thong into the inner pocket of her jacket.

"i'm guessing you'll buy me replacements for christmas."

vi flashes you a shit eating grin before putting on her own underwear. she then pulls up her pants, not wiping your release from her thigh. she likes the idea of walking around with you seeped into her skin. 

when vi looks over at you, you’re as fully dressed as you can be and busy checking something on your phone. she only sees a flash of your lock screen, but it’s her. a photo of her and lucky playing at the park; there’s snow, so it had to have been a few days ago. 

that doesn’t mean anything, right? people use photos of their friends for their wallpaper all the time.

“i really have to go,” you sigh. you pull a tube of lipstick from your pocket and step closer to the mirror. “hey — do you think we could switch shirts? not sure i should wear this to my next dinner.”

vi nods and you remove her jersey, revealing a matching fuschia bralette. she wonders what’s got you all coordinated — who else you’ve clearly dressed up for. 

“so, you’ve got a hot date?” vi tries to act casual as she takes off her jacket, pulls off her shirt, and waits for you to answer. you take your time, fixing yourself in the mirror.

“something like that,” you finally say with a shy smile.

later, when isha’s asleep on powder’s lap in the backseat, vi thinks about how your date might have gone, if you’re taking them home to the same bed vi has fucked you in throughout these past few months.

where do you get off, fucking vi in the bathroom during dinner while her parents are at the table, only to leave for another date, wearing vi’s shirt, too?

“hey, can i ask you something?” ekko asks from beside her, cutting off the angry monologue in her head.

vi reaches over to turn down the music.

“sure, little man. what’s up?”

“what’s the deal between you and wonder woman?”

vi clears her throat, gripping the steering wheel. “what makes you think there’s a deal?”

“oh, please, we all noticed that hickey on your neck after she visited you in the bathroom.” 

the car crawls to a stop as the light turns red, and vi adjusts the collar of her shirt.

“we’re just friends.”

“well, powder and i were just friends for ages,” ekko points out.

vi doesn’t notice that the light’s turned green until someone behind her honks. she steps on the gas, but the idiot behind her still cuts in front of her.

“asshole,” she grumbles, throwing them a middle finger for good measure. vi glances to her right at ekko, who’s scribbling something in his sketchbook despite only the streetlamps outside providing light. “so, what made you….realize that you wanted something more?”

ekko closes his book, smiling to himself. 

“honestly? it was kinda a million little things, but what it really comes down to is that she’s the only person i could spend every second of my life with, and i’d still want more time. and, in my experience….it’s better to tell someone how you feel sooner rather than later.”

“or, some people prefer to wait a few weeks,” powder mumbles, stirring awake. “nice try, mister, but no interfering. i’m not losing 20 bucks.”

“wait — you’ve bet on my love life?”

ekko smirks. “so it is love.”

vi shrugs, pretends that she doesn’t immediately picture you in your kitchen, making her banana pancakes at 2am when she hears the word love. 

“it doesn’t matter.”

because, it really doesn’t matter. 

you’re out with someone else right now. 

it’s over before it really had a chance to begin.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

cupcake 

Hey, Vi

Just wanted to say good game today

You played brilliantly

Violet

k

cupcake

No need for the attitude

I was just trying to be nice

Violet

my apologies!!!

thank you SO much for recognizing my talent captain kiramman

i feel like i’m actually worth something now!!!

cupcake

Bitterness isn’t a good colour on you, darling

Violet

im NOT your darling

cupcake

I’m aware

I saw you earlier with that girl

Are you together? 

Violet

idk

are you still with maddie?

cupcake

Actually, we broke up

I was hoping you and I could chat

Violet

what’s in it for me?

cupcake

The chance to reconnect with an old friend

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

you can excuse vi no longer attending the weekly team meeting. she finished her 100 hours around thanksgiving, so technically she didn’t need to be there anymore.

maybe you could excuse her ignoring your calls, or leaving your texts on read. it’s finals season, and she did mention picking up a few extra shifts to save up for christmas presents. 

but you simply can’t excuse vi walking into sappho’s with caitlyn fucking kiramman, ordering drinks from you like you’re absolute strangers.

“what the fuck, vi?” you seethe. 

vi glances at her date. caitlyn’s waiting for her back at a table, the glow of her phone screen illuminating her pretty face.

“what, should i have ordered something else? not every girl likes cherry coke and rum.” 

you glare at her from across the counter, but start preparing their drinks nonetheless. 

“why are you with her?” you throw some ice in a glass, the cubes clinking aggressively against the crystal. “are you back together?”

vi has the audacity to roll her eyes at you. “why’d you care?”

you catch yourself before saying something you’ll regret, something about liking her more than you definitely should considering the agreement the two of you had made. 

clearly, vi doesn’t feel the same way; it’s not worth spilling your guts to her at your place of work. 

“because we’re friends.”

“yeah, right,” vi scoffs. “you’re jealous, which you have no right to be because you’re seeing someone, too.”

you accidentally pour a double shot of vodka. you don’t really care, and mix the drink anyways.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“i’m talking about the date you went on the night of my championship game.”

“what date?” you slam the glasses in front of vi, so hard that you’re lucky they didn’t break.

“oh, don’t play dumb.” vi spits your name like it’s poison. “this whole thing started because you said you didn’t want a relationship, when really you just didn’t want a relationship with me. you used me until someone better came along. you lied to me.”

her eyes are glazed over, her voice shaking ever so slightly. you’re not sure if you’re more hurt or angry by what she’s saying, but it cuts deep; you continue as though you aren’t bleeding out in front of her.

“i don’t want a relationship with anyone and certainly not with you —”

“excuse me! are we able to order something?” someone with bright green hair and a septum piercing waves their hand in front of your face.

“yeah, just give us a second —”

“look, you and your girlfriend can fight on your own time.”

“she’s not my girlfriend!” you and vi snap simultaneously. 

you glare at each other.

vi grabs the glasses from the counter, and walks away.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

it took many brainstorming sessions, many boring conversations with potential donors, and many, many tears, but you managed to secure enough funding to keep the women’s centre going for the foreseeable future.  

it was a team effort, of course, so you just want everyone to enjoy this open mic night, the last event of the semester — even though you are weighed down by the absence of a certain someone.

the gallery space on campus that you rented out is both cozy and electric, decorated with fairy lights on the walls, with pillows and blankets on the floor for people to sit and watch performances. there’s a table with drinks and snacks, a corner for people to make art if they’re inspired. 

you’re rearranging the food, watching gert perform an original song when mel slides in next to you, wearing a gorgeous white dress with gold accents. 

“do you mind running to the office? we’re out of paint.”

“really? people don’t usually use the paint.”

“well, it seems to be quite popular tonight.”

“it’s fine. we still have lots of other stuff. they can just collage or something.”

mel shakes her head. “i really think you should go get more paint.”

“maybe ask sky? i should stay here —”

“you could use a break, too,” mel cuts you off, placing a hand on your shoulder. “you’ve been nonstop all day; the rest of us can hold down the fort for a little while.”

you concede, mostly because she’s right and you don’t have the energy to argue. 

when you get to the office, you’re surprised to find the lights on. even more surprised that someone’s already there, sitting on the zebra-striped couch.

“vi?”

she jumps slightly when you say her name.

“mel texted me,” she rushes out like she’s been caught red-handed. “said she needed help with something she’d been planning.” 

you frown, until you realize why mel must have sent you here, specifically. 

you haven’t seen vi since that night at sappho’s; you’d been quite a mess after your shift, ranting to mel on the phone about how she’d been right and you should have been more careful, how you don’t know what you did that ruined whatever you and vi had, and you really don’t know what you can do to fix it.

you’re both too stubborn to reach out to the other, so it seems like mel decided to take matters into her own hands. 

“yeah, i doubt she’s coming,” you tell vi. 

“okay,” vi says, but she doesn’t move. “i, uh, i was hoping i’d run into you, though.”

“yeah?” you raise an eyebrow at vi, crossing your arms. “needed another vodka martini for your piltover princess.”

“she’s not — we’re not together.”

“oh,” you exhale. the animosity you were holding towards her evaporates, but doesn’t completely disappear. you watch her, watching you stand by the doorway. 

there are so many things you want to tell her, but you don’t even know where to start. you know that you’ve hurt her. she hurt you, too.

but, also:

you miss the cloudy blue-gray of her eyes, the scar on her upper lip. 

you miss her.

“do you wanna come sit?”

after being so far away from vi, for what feels like forever, you don’t hesitate to take her up on the offer. your knees brush together as you settle next to her on the couch, a jolt of electricity passing through your body at the contact.

“so, i admit that —”

“vi, you were right —”

both of you stop your sentences short, chuckling nervously. you each urge the other to continue, and only get caught in a similar mess:

“i fucked up,” vi blurts out.

“i lied to you,” you confess at the same time.

an awkward, unfamiliar silence hangs above you; you’re not sure what to do next. 

vi takes the leap. she tells you that mel explained everything: that you had to attend a dinner with alumni and potential donors on the same night of her championship game, but you kept it from vi since it was already a big moment for her; that you haven’t been on a real date with anyone else since september. vi apologizes for jumping to conclusions and falling back into caitlyn’s arms, shutting you out when she should have just talked to you.

you’re the girl who was her first kiss, she says. the girl who lingered in a vague memory, appeared in the fiction of her daydreams, and then suddenly became too real. 

“i like you. i really fucking like you. and if it has to be as a friend, that’s fine because i don’t want to lose you.” vi takes a shattered breath, blinking back tears. she fiddles with the ring on her index finger, anxiously bouncing her knee. you place your hand there to steady her, and she exhales. “i guess i’m just not sure….when you said you liked me that night at the restaurant….is that what you lied about?” 

vi’s practically doe-eyed, waiting for you to respond. 

you shake your head. 

“i lied when i said that i didn’t want a relationship with you,” you admit, and the hint of a smile dances across her lips. “i had this major crush on you, you know? every time you came into sappho’s….i couldn’t help it. and then you showed up here and we became friends, and then we started….well, you know the rest.”

“duh. i was there,” vi jokes, easing into her usual, playful self.  

“i can’t do the whole casual thing,” you continue, rubbing circles into her knee with your thumb. “i know we made a promise, but i just can’t, not with you. it’s like…in every other relationship i’ve been in, i was trying to run out the clock. with you, though, with us, i feel like there’s never enough time —”

vi grabs your neck and crashes her mouth onto yours before you can finish your sentence. 

you’ve kissed each other many times, in many different places, in many different ways, but never like this: like you’re both willing to break one promise if it means forging a new one.

“will you be my girlfriend, violet rose atlas?” you whisper as you pull away, lips brushing against hers.  

you start to count the freckles on her cheeks as she beams at you, pulls you into her lap.

then you heard it, the joke spewing from her lips with a smirk on her face. "yeah, okay, pillow princess."

instantly, your head snapped up from your magazine. your glittery pen that you'd been circling clothing with dropped from your pretty fingers. "i'm not a pillow princess."

vi seemed to sense your distress. she set the controller down as the game conveniently ended. "well, i'm not saying there's anything wrong with it." she leaned back against the armchair, resting her hands behind her head. "i love that you're a pillow princess, believe me."

you wouldn't believe how many times she'd gotten off just by thinking about it. you were so good for her, so responsive. she hardly had to touch you and you were falling apart. sure, she loved watching your head between her thighs as you whimpered into her but there was nothing more she loved than watching you, hearing you. all of it.

you seemed butt hurt by the joke.

but vi swiftly changed the conversation, noticing the furrow of your brow.

vi knew how sensitive you were, how easily you took everything to heart and she didn't want you over thinking this. and her tactics proved right, by five minutes later you were showing her a pretty top you'd spotted on the coloured pages.

you didn't think much of it at first. in fact, for the next while, you didn't think of it at all.

perhaps you had too much in your head to contain so much information, you told vi that was why you talked so much.

it wasn't until vi had you pinned down against the bed, making out with you, that the moment popped into your head again.

you almost shut it out on accident, then it clicked. vi was kissing you deeply, her hands dragged at your hips, pulling and kneading the skin while you passed heavy breaths through your lips, kissing her back just as hard.

and suddenly, you had this urge to prove her wrong.

vi felt you shift, letting you take the lead.

she felt you turn you both over, you landed in her lap and suddenly, she was the one against the bed. her brows shifted in amusement. "what's this, baby?"

you shifted your hair to one side of your head so it didn't get in the way, you weren't really used to things like this. "jus' trying to prove something." you mumbled before reaching down and kissing her lips.

don't get me wrong, vi loved the feeling of you kissing her, whatever way you sat, laid or stood, on top or not. but she couldn't seem to shake the amusement as your mouth left hers, leaving a trail of kisses against her neck. "this have something to do with that joke i made before?"

your lips stopped momentarily at her neck, eyes gazing up. "'m not a pillow princess."

vi didn't understand why you were so adamant about it.

there was no shame in it. on the contrary, she adored it.

"yeah?" her brow cocked and she was looking at you this way that had you nodding, suddenly unable to speak. "y'sure, sweetheart? cause if i remember correctly..." suddenly, you were being flipped over again, beneath her all over again. "you quite like sitting there all pretty 'n taking it."

you could feel her hands trail down past your waist, kneading your thighs in her hands. "v-vi, 'm trying to―" you were cut off by the breath being caught in your throat.

vi's hand had trailed up your skirt, her fingers dancing over your panties. "you're trying to what, sweet girl?" you felt her fingers rub against your clothed clit. "c'mon, use your words f'me."

"vi!" you whined, feeling her fingers against you. she wasn't being fair, you were supposed to take charge but how could you think about anything when she was touching you like that?

a soft laugh left the girls lips as she pushed your panties aside, fingers gentle against your swollen bud. "love it when you whine like that."

you could only look up at her with your tinted hot cheeks.

she began to press gentle kisses against the nape of your neck, fingers trailing down to your hole, she rounded her fingers against you, collecting the trail of your slick across her digits. she made a fake gasp noise. "'n look how wet you are already." she couldn't help but smirk. "good girl."

two single words that set you off every time.

a gasp left your lips as she slipped her two fingers inside you at once. you suddenly moaned with pleasure.

vi was like a drug. every time she touched you, you found yourself addicted, begging and chasing for her to praise you. you'd do anything to please her but luckily for you, that meant just sitting there and taking it. you truly did wish you could be less 'responsive' but vi wouldn't take it any other way. her favourite thing to do was turn you dumb with her mere fingers, maybe even her strap.

your eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, feeling her fingers pound against your sopping cunt. "please, vi." you moaned out. "please don't stop."

"yeah? wanna be my good girl again, huh?" nudging your face with her nose, littering kisses on your cheek.

you could only whimper out with a nod. vi had this way of making you feel like you were high on magic. you couldn't help but want her in every way.

"then say it, angel." fingers pumping in and out, embarrassing squelching sounds bounced off each wall of the bedroom. "say you're my pillow princess."

she was met with a mere whine of dissatisfaction from you.

she feigned sympathy with a coo. "awh, i know, baby. my poor girl, jus' so mean, aren't I?" but the girl didn't care much for your whining and whimpering, she'd get you to say it before you came. "but you gotta say it, yeah? don't want me to stop do you?"

you pursed your lips closed. "mm-mm. please don't stop." you practically panted out, you could almost feel frustration build in your water line. "nnghh― please, vi!"

"four words." is all she whispered back, her palm grazed against your clit every time her fingers pounded into your entrance. "know you can say it, pretty girl. jus' need me to make you all dumb, don't you, baby?"

a whimper of her name was the only thing that left your lips, eyes screwing shut.

"close, sweetheart? 's now or never, baby. say it or i'll stop."

the feeling was knotting in your stomach, ready to unravel. you didn't want to but you knew better than to cum without following orders.

so you forced the damned sentence to pass your lips. "'m your pillow princess."

and a coo only fell from the magenta haired girl. "awh, know you are, sweet girl. see? my good girl always listens, doesn't she? huh?" vi tended to ask you questions while knuckles deep in your pussy, she knew you couldn't utter a single word. "you jus' need me to make your poor pussy feel all good, don't you?"

a breathless, "uh-huh." was her answer. "'m close!"

"yeah? gonna be good f'me 'n say please?" of course, vi had to make you beg for it.

"please!" you practically squeaked out as your back arched against the bed.

a chuckle left her lips. "you can do better than that."

and you really, definitely could. but vi had made you all dumb, exactly her plan. "please let me cum, vi. please, need it so bad. please." you repeated the word please in little whispers, unable to hold back the knot in your stomach.

"you're such a good girl, 'course you can cum, baby." she felt your spongy walls suddenly tighten around her fingers. "that's it, sweetheart, cum all over vi's fingers, 's a good girl."

vi pumped her fingers in and out of you, letting you ride out your high like she always did until you were squirming away from her.

she leaned against the bed with a self-loving smirk on her face, hardly glancing your way. you laid next to her, chest falling and rising as you panted out breaths. a beat of silence passed until you spoke up. "vi?" turning your head to her.

"yes, my pillow princess?" she teased.

instantly, a frown fell on your face as you crossed your arms over your chest. she wasn't being fair. "i was gonna say something, now i'm not speaking to you."

"oh, come on." she lifted your face by her thumb to make you look at her again. "no pouting or else i'll have to shut you up all over again."

an idea suddenly fell flat on your head.

your pout deepened.

vi only climbed over you with the smuggest of smirks on her face. "you dirty little slut."

Ten years can be a multitude of wonders. It can stretch on for as long as your heart can take. Or it can feel as if it never happened at all. But the memories? That’s what sticks to the wall of your most extravagant nightmares.

Fills in the cracks you try to hide when your own life comes up short. For a memory to cement, it has to be solidified in your core from the inside out. A story for your brain to latch onto. You remembered the entire night now. As if your mind had been protecting you from it all this time.

The glimpses of the shadow underneath the moonlight, the loud moans echoing inside your room in Mel’s home back in college. You have your fair share of poor judgement.

Lacy at the helm of all your indecision.

You did the decent thing, and you thought of your girlfriend first. It came from the lack of attention she failed to give. With your hips circling, a delicate cheek pressed against your sheets, you thought of her. The faceless butch, trapped in the haze of your mind, with only short glimpses for you to latch yourself to.

Each time—you would fall apart like never before, wishing you had a name to cry out to.

Lacey had even caught you once. A searing pain in your chest that you weren’t thinking of her, and she thought you were, yet all you did was think of a woman you would never see again.

Only the whisper of a night you didn’t never forget along with the lies Lacey told wrapped herself in.

It wasn’t the first time—and far from the last—Lacey had fucked another girl. In a drunken rage, you told her proudly that if you wanted to get off, you would think of anyone but her. When your relationship expired, you wish you had told her, or anyone else besides Mel for that matter.

Your lips remain concealed.

A secret you’re ready to take to the grave as long as Lacey remained by your side.

And it had all been for nothing. She already knew.

How on earth did Violet know about something so precious, a secret you hold so near?

"How do you know about that?"

Violet took a step forward, her body infiltratating your space with an innocence that could only be feigned. "Know about what?"

"I only told Mel about that night and I never told anyone else." You sighed, still not quite getting it. "We did not meet that night. I was—"

"Princess, I thought I was supposed to be the brainless jock."

No. It couldn't. It can't be—

"But the next time I saw you, you were with Caitlyn."

"We had a fight before that night. I wasn’t exclusive with her and then I saw you. In your red velvet dress, and then you gave me a night I’ve never forgotten. The next time we met, so much had changed, and you flirted with me in front of Cait. I realized you didn't know it was me that night.”

Violet takes a step closer, a firm hand on your lower back tugging you close, before her lips drop to press against your ear, "That I'd been the one to guide your hips as you used me. My face between your thighs, my tongue inside you deep and slow, the way you like it—I could never forget your voice crying out for more. Begging for anything I could give you."

"You've made your point." You push lightly, hands pressed against her chest, creating some distance between the two of you. The air feels tight, constantly constricting against your throat. A mountain of lies from Lacey Lave's mouth making you feel as small. Just as she intended. A ten year relationship—had it all been a rouse?

"Anyways, Lacey was threatened by it. I may have told her in the heat of a game. She was trash talking and I wanted to piss her off. So, I told her I fucked her girl, got a shiner for it. She got a red card and I got an easy goal to beat her at nationals." You didn't know what to do with all of it. One, that Violet was the woman of your ghostly dreams, the faceless woman buried in your sheets.

Lacey never brought it up. Not even to make you feel guilty about it.

"She never told me it was you."

"No, she wouldn't. She never wanted you to know and honestly I didn't want you to either."

"Why?" The apprehension couldn't be written clearer on Vi's face.

"It wouldn't have done any good."

"Yeah, right. Caitlyn."

"And you and Lacey."

The words escape from her tongue so easily. The secret of the night, your secret, but everyone held the key to Pandora's box but you. Your ex-girlfriend, the woman you couldn't stop thinking about for the duration of your relationship—practically in cahoots with one another. Rightful hatred making them stew, throwing daggers at me in the process. To them, it had been a game. On the field or not, you had forever been placed in the middle of it.

Violet showing up unannounced was definitely out of character for her. The two of you didn't do anything together. The structure of your dynamic depends on it.

Now, the only thing you can see is white flashes, her tongue and how she meled you into the sheets. Warm hands on your thighs dismantling your faith and making you believe in her.

You wish she would get back together with Caitlyn, or get with someone.

“Why are you telling me now?”

“Stupidity?” With a playful shove, you push her away from her, and she smiles.

“I still don't believe it’s you.”

Another lie.

You’ve looked at her hundreds of times since then but now you’re seeing her.

“If you need proof, princess, all you have to do is say please.”

She's smiling—you would give much of your pride to bite her lip—and make yourself familar with the iron in her veins.

God, you are every bit of screwed.

“That's never going to happen…again.”

It’s best to leave it here. You can’t let this get any farther. Knowing it was her that night is enough to want to jump her bones. She’s the kind of woman every goes looking for.

You can’t look.

You don’t want to.

Liar.

You’re picturing her lips everywhere; how she kissed you hopelessly that night.

The desperate look in her eyes—she just wanted to be loved—and you couldn't help but wonder if she still did.

Before Vi moved an inch closer, you kissed her cheek. Surprising Violet when you wrapped your hands around her neck, holding her in a warm embrace. “Thank you for checking up on me. It’s sweet.”

Your bid leaves no room for interpretation.

Violet doesn’t say another word watching you leave in silence.

⸻

"Can I tell you something without you freaking out about it?" Mel hands me the joint she's been smoking, offering me a hit.

"Still might freak out about it." You release the smoke from your lungs, "Go on. Lay it on me."

The grass feels smooth beneath your fingertips. A bit prickly, but damp from the rain. You hear Violet snickering in the distance when she's able to kick the ball right past Sev into the goal. In a way, you can finally realize why fields just like this were a second home to people like Lacey.

And Violet.

She's such a show off.

"Violet has been asking an awful lot about you. Who you're dating, the sexy bartender she suspects you're fucking on the side—"

Why is she doing this? "Didn't she end things with Cait recently?”

"I would hardly classify a year recent." Mel takes a beat, “You and Lacey have been broken up for what…a handful of months?”

"Yeah, but we both know my relationship was dead for years."

Mel nods, taking a hit from the blunt, "And you should know looks can be deceiving." She takes a minute, watching your gaze flutter from Violet to back to Mel. "Oh! Did something happen when she drove you home when you got properly knackered at brunch?"

"Not really.” You decide to twist Mel's own words against her. "I need you to keep a straight face, okay?"

"You're scaring me."

"Violet is kind of the woman from freshman year. The one I slept with right before Lacy and I got back together for the millionth time. You know, the woman you called—"

"The ultimate shag of your fucking life!"

"Mel…" Internally sighing you place your head and shove them in your hands to try to save yourself a little of dignity. "Please. Have some decorum."

"You know you’re not the only who spoke about that night. God, this is rich."

"Like it means anything."

Her golden irises shine in the sunlight, squinting at you with a devilish smirk pulling at the corners of her full lips. "It means more than you think, and you should speak with her about it."

Violet looked over at you for one second, smiling throught her perfectly pearly-white teeth. Ever so charming. Part of the problem, her and those bright eyes.

You never really thought about her like this. Now more than ever, you've taken the space foremore. The obstacles immountable.

Mountains of morality gripping your throat. For a while, Mel doesn't speak and neither do you. Welcoming the silence with open arms, you watch her. Flying mop of pink-hair being blown in the wind. The pure joy she has with a ball being passed between her feet—not a single eye on her—but not a soul would be able to tell the difference.

She looks so free, happy. You crave to capture the feeling, keep her warm and safe, making sure not a soul harms the lightning in a bottle.

It's how you felt, with a college degree you never used—but owning a restaurant had always felt more fufilling. More useful in the grand scheme of things.

The late-nights, early mornings, and the overnight shifts full of taking countless inventory felt worth it. It might have been a stupid building serving food, but it's a home you built from the ground up. The culture you created. The passion you felt every time you took over the kitchen. It's the closest you've come to completed fruition.

You imagine it's the same for Violet. For the first time, in a party of four, you're taking in everything she is and you're not sure what to do with it.

"I'm willing to bet you haven't shagged that pretty bartender of yours since you found out about the identity of your mysterious lover." Mel pushes, smirking, again.

You steal the blunt from her hands as you take the last hit, the courage of the cannabis winding you up, maybe enought to ask Violet what's been in the forefront of your mind. Could Mel have some merit in what she speaks of?

Well, of course. It's Mel. She tried to warn you about Lacey for years and you never thought sense of mind to listen. Now, maybe you out to.

"Don't remind me. Abby was practically sizing her up when you sent Violet like a hound ready to sniff out any smell of distress." You snuff the bud on the bottom of your boot.

"I did no such thing, love. If Vi came to visit you, it's because she wants to."

"But she—" How could you not see it for what it was? Were you truly always this blind? "She said you wanted to check on me. Make sure I was alright."

Mel innocently shrugs, a smile you think about hiding from makes it's way to the surface. "I texted you when Vi said you fell. That was me checking in on you. Her showing up at your restaurant is all Vi. I'll give her that. Always a bit cheeky with her women."

"Mel." The look you give her is more than pointed, narrowed in a sense to drown out any confusion racing in your heart. "I'm not her woman."

"Yeah, tell someone who actually believes it." She laughs, the two of you getting up to join them in their antics. Before you get within an earshot, Mel ushers underneath her breath, "You may not be ready yet, and I understand it, but if you want to give anyone an opportunity—she’s more than worth it.”

⸻

Every year, you relish in this time of year. The autumn leaves, the hot chocolate burning every sensation on your tongue. The park benches that would be too damp to sit on, but you would do it anyway just so you could perlong your walk for the sake of fresh air. Going from living to the countryside to the city had been an adjustment, but now you couldn't help but fall in love with it. Taking your walk every Sunday morning, a fresh cup of coffee in your hand.

Abby has been more than capable to take over the reigns on Sundays, and you finally gave into delegation. A necessary pain to relinquish a small amount of control.

You ought to be proud of yourself.

It's the moment of absolute absence of mind when you bump into her—a strong hand stabalizing the coffee in your hand and the other wrapped around your waist. Keep you close, safe.

"Watch your step, princess." Violet's cursed voice ripples out and scorns your weak heart.

Despite all the whispers in your ear, Mel’s attempt to push you in one direction, you avoid being alone with her.

Typically, you're quite good at being alone. Years of being with Lacey taught you that.

No one will love you as much as me.

It’s a death trap of the heart. You wish back then Mel had been the shoulder for you to lean on. It’s not what happened. Deceitful whispers in your ear with a prophecy filled with all your deepest insecurities is the choice you made.

Lacey over everything, yourself included.

As pathetic as it was, Mel’s the only kind of sunshine you had.

She sees your bullshit for all it's worth and can slither through the cracks. A trained python to snuff you out of toxic habits and an avalanche of heartache.

Violet feels more sweet. The sugar rotting your teeth to the bone. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping a beautiful woman from distress." She smiles instantly when you don't pull away, and laughs when you roll your eyes. "Kidding. Well, sort of. I actually live across the street. I guess the sort of thing is prompted when you end a relationship. Living on your own, downsizing, the whole thing. Just signed the second lease.”

"Mhm," You look in her eyes as she removes her arm and walks in pace with you. "How's all of that going?"

"Do you really want to know? Or are you doing the polite thing?"

The gaze feels heavy when you look at her. You do your best to control it. Violet's irises soften when you grace her paranoria with a warm smile, "I really wanna know, Violet."

She's nothing like Lacey, and you want to hate her for it.

"It's awkward, uncomfortable at times. I loved Cait and I was going to propose to her. It seemed liked the right thing to do. We had been together so long, I knew she wanted it. We talked about it, and I was just waiting for the right moment."

You did know, but you had been Caitlyn. Waiting for a commitment while the expiration date passed. Accepting a dried up love instead of what you deserved.

At least Caitlyn didn’t have to deal with the cheating. Vi had always been loyal. To a fault.

Except for once.

"So, what happened?" Violet seemed surprised you’re asking, but recovers quickly.

"I proposed because I thought it's what she wanted. She saw through me, and it killed us." Violet sighs, her breath materlizing in the cold air. "We couldn't come back from it and I didn't want to. We loved each other but not in the way I think we should have. Not in the way Cait wanted. So, I moved out."

Not knowing how to respond, you kept quiet, but Violet kept speaking.

"Caitlyn said she couldn't get over the look in my eyes. Said I was settling—that I wanted something stable like my own family. She told me how I should want more. That I shouldn't be able to contain myself if I was asking someone to spend the rest of their life with me, and that I shouldn't waste it on her. One look, and she knew that I wasn't in love anymore but I would have married her. Maybe have been unhappy five or ten years even down the line, so in a lot of ways, I think she saved us.”

Violet speaks with raw emotion, but she leans into it. The honesty beats her powder-blue eyes into life. Being truthful, leaning into someone else other than herself.

Two weeks later, Violet is heavy on your mind. You think of her entirely too much. Her kindess is a knight lingering in the shadows. Swift on knocking down each barrier protecting your heart. It would be easy to slip in with her and that's the very reason you can't. It's nearly been a year of being alone. And you think about her. Being with her, kissing her—reciting everything you've seen this week that reminds you of the unimaginable blue in her beautiful eyes. Because in her light, you might be deserving of it.

Mel's words ring truer than you wish them to.

You're about to walk down to the coffee shop, the one you always frequent on Sundays when your phone vibrates in your back pocket.

8:37am: care for a cup of joe and some miminal trauma dumping? i can meet you there. my treat, princess.

The walks become a weekly occurence. The beginning of September moprhs into the depths of October with Halloween just around the corner. In the time span, you've gone from meeting at Wolf's Brew, meeting her at the bench outside of your building, to her walking up the flight of stairs—the one you know can't be any good for her knee. Violet inists on it. You loop your arm through hers, the same as every other Sunday.

Each time her gaze falls on your lips, you think she notices the way your throat tightens, because she pulls away like she hadn't looked at all. The moment evaporates until it happens again, and each time makes you dizzer. You're thankful for the cold. Not only because your skin doesn't feel scorching, but because you can't see the strong muscles you'd want to stroke with your tongue. The tattoo perfectly places on the side of her neck has always done a thorough job sending you into a complete frenzy.

Violet looks at your lips again, and your gulp so loudly she lets out the lightest of laughs. "Do you want me to stop?"

You take the quickest glance of her lips, the sharpe intake of her jaw, those adoring puppy eyes. All of the signs eluding to a feeling greater than yourself bubbling underneath the surface, yet you're full of restraint. If anything, you have always had to be. Protection over surrender. Fight over flight. It never occured you may be in the safest hands imaginable.

It’s never worked out that way.

Why would she be any different?

"Stop what?" Innocently, you ask her. Playing dumb is the smart decision. Guarding yourself. It's the only thing in the world you can count on.

"I think you know, princess." Violet turns to you slightly. Cheek against yours, pressing her scarred lip against your ear, "For your sake, we can pretend that I'm not thinking about your lips every time I fall asleep. Or when I get a little lonely and your face is the first and only one to enter my mind. We can pretend I'm not thinking about you every second if that's what you wish."

Did she just—

Violet does pretend. She coasts over the moment like it didn't happen. It's the only thing you think about for a week until you see her next. The cappucino is the same. The pastry Violet buys for you, and your arm linked with hers, all the flirty innuendos she pulls from her tongue like a loaded shot gun. She's terrifyingly perfect. More importantly, she's so entirely patient.

The seasons change and she’s the constant weathering your storm.

The downpour comes out of nowhere, and Violet's apartment is closer. She tries to shield you from the rain as if it were even possible. The both of you rushing into her apartment, entirely soaked. Before you can even speak, she's stolen the words from you. "Let me go grab dry clothes for you to wear. Can't have you getting sick."

The plaid boxers and oversized sweatshirt smell of her. Cotton so soft you think about if her lips could rival it. She even brought you a pair of navy-blue socks fresh out of the dryer. Violet takes your clothes to throw them through the wash. The walls of her place fit her. Painted canvas' where Powder's signature is etched in the corner, a few bands you've heard her speak of, and some family pictures frame hung throughout. Her family truly is everything to her and you smile at the dream.

Her pink-hair is flattened, a sweet smile greeting you with an open heart. She looks so cozy, in a cropped shirt with the sleeves cut. A pair of basketball shorts that fit her athletic legs perfectly. The small scar on her leg from the surgery is healed, but it sends you back into where she was in your apartment.

The surgery had been fresh. And she had picked up, put weight on her fragile knee when she wasn't supposed to.

"Violet," With tears in your eyes you manage to get out, "The day you carried me. When did you have your surgery?"

"It's not important."

"And I think it is."

"Really, my knee is fine. Who knows if I will ever play again, but it's not going to be because I carried you up to your place. You couldn't even walk properly."

"Even when you thought I hated you—you have always been kind—surely more than I have ever deserved." You gnaw on your lip. Shame filling your stomach with a snap of your fingers. "Why are you so kind? Why can't you make it even a little bit easier to hate you?"

Violet bitterly laughs, "Yeah, right. You were living in bliss before. Not knowing it was me, but I was in agony. Seeing you with Lacey, she never deserved you. At all.”

You don't know why any of this matters. One night, over ten years, and it seems the ghost of the forbidden haunts the both of you.

"I think you've held onto a memory of me that doesn't exist. A dream of me. You've lied to yourself, convincing yourself it meant more than it actually did. It was sex. Really good sex, but maybe that's all it was. Whatever Lacey did to me, it doesn't have to involve you. Me choosing to stay with someone who was entirely fucking miserable was my own retribution. Stop caring about me, Violet. There's nothing going on between us."

The venom in her chuckle is so bitter, it almost makes you laugh.

"Then why are you so afraid to kiss me?" Violet pushes. Her hard edges you once knew so well are back. The fire in her eyes ignited by your ever-growing reluctancy. "Why does your body retreat back into yourself when I get close? You fuck Abby like it's nothing. C'mon princess, I can only be a good fuck, right?"

"Violet, you're twisting what my words. I didn't mean—"

"I'm not Lacey. I'm not going to hurt you like she did." It's a punch to your gut and the blood spills. “Let me take care of you. Alright? You are safe with me and don’t try to bullshit me. I’m not some horned up college kid anymore. I see the way you look at me. How you’ve been looking at me for weeks now.” The flip of her words give you whiplash, and you wonder if that's actually what she intended.

One wrong move. The words scramble in your brain, vines of reason trying to strangle her voice out. Violet stands close, you can see all the freckles scattered across her cheeks. Everything that makes her beautiful scarring you from the inside.

She leans in, her breath ghosting over your lips. "What are you so afraid of? I can handle every gorgeous part of you. God, I want to."

Violet's lips are softer than you remember. You awake in gratitude that she's not rushing this. Letting you lead, her lips move in sync with yours, becoming one force underneath the weight of your desire.

You mark her lips with light whimpers, firm hands rooted into her pink waves. Pouring all the time you lost into her. Into this one kiss, one you'll never be able to forget. Each moment stains you, her hands pressing in your thighs, hoisting you to wrap them firmly around her waist. For however soft Violet feels, you feel protected underneath her touch. Hoping no one could harm you. A tangle of limbs, her heavy breath and with a twist of her tongue, she's sucking on yours. "Fuck, how could I be such a coward and never tell you?"

The secret she carried lies at your feet as she carries you to the bedroom, placing you on the mattress. Letting you sit pretty, in her shirt and boxers, on her bed. Embers of blue fire ignite beneath her eyes, and you can see her fighting against it. "Princess, we can stop this at any moment. You say the word and my hands are off."

"I know." You pull her closer and Violet lets you. Her body stands between your legs. You sit on the edge of her bed, looking up at her through fluttering eyelashes. "Take off your shirt, Vi."

You see her chest practically vibrate, the moan she lets slip when you say the name she's asked you to speak so many times. But only now, do you grant her the wish, along with so many others.

Her smirk is too wide, and you want to smack it right off her. "Why would I do that when you can do it for me?" Giving Violet a pointed look she shurgs, but still she gives into you. "Alright pretty girl, but only because you said my name."

The flimsy material finds it's way on the floor. Along with the rest of any self-control you had with it. Running on instinct, you place a warm hand on her toned abdomen. The hard ridges of her trained muscle twitch with the scrap of your nails digging into the skin. Her pink nipples pierced, not concealed with tape like the first night.

"Oh princess, I'm going to fucking ruin you." She pushes your back to the bed with the power of hips. "And this time you won't have the luxury of not knowing it's me turning this pussy inside out."

Your hips buck against her, begging for any kind of friction. "If you can make me come."

Violet bites into your silence with her lips curving around your neck, down into your collarbones, kissing the cotton of her shirt over your sternum until she's pushed it up, exposing your soft stomach. "You have no idea how perfect I find you, every inch of your skin—I want all of it underneath my tongue." Vi pushes your shirt up, exposing your chest to her.

"V-Vi, my fucking god—" Her tongue circles your nipples, nipping the bud with her teeth, before sucking the rest into her mouth. She teases the ignored breast with a pinch of her fingers, Violet's entire body hums when you arch into her. "You're really good at that."

"Mhm, I know, princess." Violet groans, pulling the shirt from your body, as she kneels your thighs still wrapped around your waist. "Are you ready? 'Cause there weill be no coming back from this. Once I start, I have a feeling you won't wanna stop."

"You're really…confident."

"Yeah, you could say that." Violet leans forward, her breath hot in your ear as she speaks, "There's also no other woman on this fucking planet I'd rather have under me. So, m'gonna make my dream come true and have the most beautiful princess alive squirt all over my hand—just like the first time. Can you handle me, sweet girl? Can you take whatever I wanna give you?"

"Yes." Clinging onto her back, you give yourself something to ground to.

"Yes what?"

Violet wants to here the name you've denied her for so long, and at this point, you'd give her anything to have every inch of her fingers inside you.

"Vi….just fuck me."

After all the waiting, all the walks, all the flirting—Violet slips right in. As if the last ten years of absence didn't exist, as if she never left you and this moment was always meant to be. For the first time, you let yourself admit the ugly truth. Lacey's jealousy stood on solid ground. Nothing on this godforsaken planet felt like Violet Vanderson.

"I hate that it feels so good," You pant as she buries her face into your neck, craving to feel your erratic pulse. "I hate how perfect you fit inside me. You shouldn't be this perfect. So sweet. You're smothering me to death."

"You don't hate me, princess. You hate that you like everything about me." Violet growls into your neck, enjoying the divine music of your moans. With no hesitation, your cunt swallows her middle finger, and your hips follow the rhythm of her wrists, her palm grazing your clit with each pump of her fingers. "I think you won't even need my mouth to squirt like a good girl. I know you'll make a mess with my voice in your ear and your pussy gripping me like a fucking vice."

"Your good girl?"

"Yes baby, my good girl." She sinks another finger, stretching you to the brim, and her thumb rubbing circles on your clit. "Gonna be so good for me, yeah? Show me why you're my sweet girl. Does your stomach have that sinking feeling? Pussy fucking throbbing—I can feel it—every drop waiting to be spilled for me. You can let it all go, princess. I'll fuck every pretty drop out of you, until you've fucked yourself dry and then you know what happens after?"

Fuck….

"My mouth will do the rest of the work. Clean you up real good, and then I'm going to bury my head in those pretty thighs of yours and hope to god you smother me to death."

Violet moans when you let it all go, there's so much happening at once. Your screams, the cries of your name, the claws in her back she'll wear like a badge of honor. The way your entire body shudders and shivers, panting as Violet locks eyes with you. Mouth open as she claims you, swallowing your moans with her eager mouth.

She hasnt stopped, and she won't, not until you're entirely fucked try. You can hear yourself, offering everything you can give, making a mess on her hand and she pulls it all from you like it's easy. You've been chasing the unacheivable feeling, for ten years, you finally don't have to pretend.

"Fuck, I love you."

Violet instantly tenses, not even believing herself the words that spilled from her mouth. She's watching you, carefully. As if she just spooked you and the way you retreat into yourself, shows her she's done exactly that. You want to tell her it's okay. That she doesn't have to mean it. The two of you just had sex again, unforgettable sex, and emotions are high and you understand why those three words slipped out. Every voice is screaming at your head to listen to all the logic bouncing around in your head. You're unable to listen to any of it.

Lacey only told you she loved you after sex. You're creating the same pattern with someone new. Violet is no different. She'll up and leave you. She will cheat on you. You'll never be good enough. You're never enough. Why can't you be?

"Can you get off me, please?" She does, of course she does, she's too nice. She's so warm and gooey, the honey you crave to be stuck at the back of your throat.

"I'm sorry, fuck, I didn't mean for it to just come out like that."

There's tears, so many of them. So much you can't see. Violet only watches as you try to look for your shoes, in embarassingly soaked boxers. God, this couldn't be any worse.

"I-I need to leave." There's hiccups, you're tears are stained your cheeks and Violet looks like she'd rather die than look at you right now. Her own face crumples at the sight of you, but you can see her bite her lip to calm herself down.

"Did I hurt you? Was it too much?" Regret and concern floats in her gaze, but you can't tell if one outweighs the other. "I'm so fucking sorry. Oh my god, I never wanted to cause you any harm. I'm sorry. Can I do anything?"

"Some pants—" Violet disappears into her closet, having another pair of boxers, and a pair of sweats in hand.

She turns away from you, and it's then you realize she still isn't wearing a shirt. Violet gives you the privacy and you stumble over the clothes, and you're just staring at her tattooed back.

The gears and puffs of smoke working as one piece on her back, and in this moment of chaos, she completely grounds you. Even if you're not strong enough, you can't deny how incredible she is. How right now you let her believe she's hurt you in some way because you can't bring yourself to tell her that she activated the Lacey Lave of all triggers. And your hurt cannot see anything else.

Not even the woman you think you might even be in love with.

You tap her shoulder, and her lip is quivering as she wipes her wet cheek and grabs her hoodie to throw on. "I'm gonna take you home, and then you never have to see me again, alright? I didn't mean to hurt you and I can't tell you enough how sorry I am."

The ride is silent, and short. You could have walked but Vi wouldn't allow it. Under these circumstances, you understood why. Never have you seen her like this, so distraught. Quiet as a mouse. You have to say something. "Vi?"

"Yeah?" Her eyes are closed, waiting for you to lay one final burn. Shame coated on her face like an iron fist.

"Violet, look at me."

She winces when you say her name, but you've always thought Violet was more beautiful, more fitting for her never ending bloom. You cradle her face in your hand, year stained and all, wiping away anymore continuing to spill.

"Please believe me when I say this. You did not hurt me, Vi. I enjoyed myself with you but it was overwhelming and I handled it very badly. You're nothing short of perfect, okay? I adore you and I don't want you to doubt that."

Violet simply nods, her jaw clenching as her mind looks to drift away from this conversation.

You add for extra measure, "You're a lot. In the best way possible. I want to make sure I'm ready for it. Please, don't give up on me. I just need time."

"M'not going, anywhere." Violet's voice is hoarse, but she grabs your hand and kisses the inside of your palm. Her lips kiss your forehead next, and you can feel her scar when she does.

And it rips you, the feeling that never dies.

The knowing of being loved so softly, so truly—and you've never wanted anything so badly but you're not sure how to reach for it.

Violet lets you leave in silence. She doesn't push, she doesn't beg when you have nothing to give. She just loves you, and your insides crumble at the thought of someone as righteous as her finding the golden in you.

⸻

Routines for you have always been simple. You did well in university for the same reason. Structure, a schedule, the same days you visited the gym, the day you went to the grocery store, and the day you called your mom every week.

Everything for you remained the same. Adapdatuon has never been your expertise. With all the blood in your veins, you wished for your life to remain the same. The life you have prospers in predictability.

Violet isn't predictable.

She surprises.

The passion in her eyes makes you fall instantly. She commands every ounce of your attention and not because she's greedy, but because you can't look at anything but her.

The idea that she hurt you, sending her into a fit of tears still pierces through you. So much so that it wasn't until Mel reached out to you after two weeks of silence she came with red wine and a cardboard box filled with pizza, fresh from your favorite place in the townsquare.

"Out with it. Please tell me why Vi has been operating around us like she's some wounded pup."

"Us?" You question, but Sev walks through your apartment a few seconds later.

"Is this some kind of intervention?" You grab another glass from the kitchen, placing them on the maghony table in the living room. The both of them dig into the pizza when you're favoring more the the wine tonight.

"No, but Vi is a muzzled dog at this point. Won't spill an inch and I can always count on you." Mel grabs another slice, "Plus, I tried to poke her for it and she got rather angry. Wanker nearly bit my head off for asking. A bit protective if you ask me."

"That's entirely my fault. The whole thing is pretty much." You contemplated how much you should tell them, how much to keep a secret, but none of it felt right. Not when Vi didn't want anyone knowing. "We started hanging out with each other. Every Sunday. I had these walks I would go on. I don't know—we bumped into each other one day and then we just made it a regular thing."

Mel nearly chokes on her pizza, her elegance flying out the window along with the slice of pepperoni on the floor. Sevika took another sip of the wine but she hates it but she doesn't have the gaul to complain about it in front of her wine-snob of a girlfriend.

"So, let me get this straight," Sevika starts and you're terrified for where this is going to end. "You had a weekly date with Vi, every single week and neither of you told anyone."

"It was just on Sundays, sometimes lunch. A dinner here and there. It was hardly anything to write home about."

"And who paid?" Mel asked, her perfect eyebrow arching in a way that accused you to the bone.

"Is that truly relevant?"

"Yes." They both say in unison and for a split second you ponder on supplying wax in your ears so you wouldn't have the unfortunate curse of continuing this conversation.

"Uh, well…"

Fuck, did Violet pay for every single one? Were we dating already?

The walks went on for nearly three months.

There was that one weekend I was sick and Violet brought me homemade soup. A care package of cough drops, medicine, and she sat with me on the couch all day watching movies trying to make me feel better.

All of the moments, every single one, even Vi telling you she loved you for the first time. The frustration she had when you called the one night stand a fluke—everything she spoke of between the two of you stood in an entirely different light.

"I have a theory. Vi was soft launching, trying to caux you into it, you know? If not, she would have spooked you and you would have ran." Mel laughs as your eyes bug out even more, "It's kind of brilliant. You probably fell in love with her already and now, all she has to do really is wait for you to realize it."

"I'm not in love with Violet.

"Right, right." Sev chuckles, leaning into Mel. "And you're avoiding her because?"

"You said it yourself. I'm full of spook."

"Well love, don't be spooked for too long. Vi is the kind of woman others go searching for. Caitlyn would be the first to tell you not to make a mess of things, alright?" Mel kisses you on the cheek sweetly, and you've never been more thankful for it. "So, tell me, how was the first kiss with her since you shagged her?"

"I didn't tell you we shagged."

"Well, no but now you did. You need a better poker face, darling."

Jesus Christ, it's going to be a long night.

⸻

⸻

"Spill, you fucking maniac."

"Hell to you too, sunshine." Abby winks, holding the blunt in her hand.

Her l-shaped couch is cozy, you cuddle up in the corner, her dog, Blayke making home in your lap just as she did every time you were here. An ongoing joke she loves you more than Abby.

"You must really have no one if you're willing to tell me about it."

"I do have people. But they're Vi's people too and—"

"You don't wanna spread whatever the big, bad thing you did." You'd do anything to protect her, and if it means keeping what she confessed to yourself? Gladly, you'll wallow in all of the agony for her.

"It's not entirely bad."

Maybe it was. You couldn't stop thinking of her. Seeing the tears in her eyes, watching her cry and only yesterday could I say it for what it truly had been. A complete, a total misunderstanding. Old habits follow you as broken oaths. You think of her—and those kind eyes that have the capacity to shatter your entire soul.

"Tell me first then, what are you hiding?"

Abby's apartment felt like a distant memory, it always felt cold to you, but fitting for her. The terrace underneath the moonlight provides a nice view, and you think of Violet. What it would be like to be spending the evening with her. Is she eating enough—drinking enough water?

Does she talk about me with anyone? Every fight I had with her, none of them hold as much weight. Could you even call this a fight when you made it clear to her there's nothing to fight over? Crying when she said I love you and too weak to handle any of it.

Love and it's thorns. It takes more blood than you have to offer. The tips of your fingers bleed each time you cry to touch her. Each pressing of her skin against your own is more sensitive—more personable. An aching you haven't quite figured out the answer to. Surely, this is a question you're not meant to answer. You're just supposed to know. Love is love and reluctance is rejection.

Once you've struck gold, held a feeling so entirely precious, bronze and silver feels geep beneath your fingertips. There's no runner up—only the one who wins.

"I've never seen you like this." With a smile on her face, Abby takes a swing of her beer. "So in love."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Your voice is pointed, reeking of desperation. Picking at your chip nail polish, you take another hit, "I think I would know if I was."

"You wouldn't. Not if you're in your head comparing it with whatever fucked up shit Lacey put you through."

"What does that have to with anything?" You hate the rot in your bones, the disease Lacey placed in your system. Every ill-spoken word raises graveyard of your own ashes, the voice of all your demons come in the night, in the terroizing face of her crimson hair and honey-brown eyes. She's there to sneak on you—a thief in the night threatening to steal every bit of joy you have ever held close.

As much as you would love to admit she's no longer in your system, you feel it in the silence you let Violet feel. The distance she created when you couldn't say those three little words back. How you didn't even alow yourself to imagine a life where Violet could somehow want a relationship with you, a soul so entirely broken.

With Abby, everything had been easier. No emotional connection, a battered heart in a vault, where no one could touch it. True to Mel's words, Violet had stolen it from you. And it's far too late to take it back now. You've let yourself want, need even, and you know nothing could be more deadly.

"Fuckin' everything." Abby can't help but smile at the pure ignornance etched in the pursed line of your lips. "You think just because you're free of Lacey, all of it changes?"

"Now you're just being a dick."

"M'not trying to. Would you just listen to me?" Tucking your calves underneath your thighs, wrapping yourself in the blanket she threw around you on your way out.

"Fine. Speak."

'"Lacey put you through hell. But you can't hold onto it. All the expectation you're putting on Vi? You're pinning her to the cross Lacey placed. Has she ever done anything to make you believe you can't trust her?"

"Well no—"

"Then don't making her pay for your ex-girlfriend's sins. S'all I'm saying."

"You don't even know what happened."

"Oh, I definitely do."

"How could you possibly know?"

"Remember the night she dropped by at the restaurant, after you rolled your ankle?"

"Yeah?"

"Her drop by wasn't as innocent or harmless as you think."

⸻

She loves coming here, granted she has only been here a few times, and your grand opening being one of them. Vi remembers Lacey's absence, and your struggle with it. Like most things, it was easy for you to brush it off. Focus on what really mattered to you, and Vi hasn't seen anything more beautiful.

A real smile.

You didn't force it.

Vi wonders if you even could.

Seeing you in the midst of your dream, watching as you held onto a passion you found from the ground up. It was more than admirable, and Vi never had felt so envious of someone else's purpose.

Vi had her purpose, even considered herself lucky enough to carry the weight of her dream in her chest—light as a feather—but her knee gave out on her in the last olympics. The greatest heartbreak of her life. It feels like a wound that couldn't stop opening. The moment before you die, and you think of this one thing, one event, one person. It's the biggest regret, it stands out when it shouldn't and you can't let go of it.

The last bell has been rung, the note of her last career game has been sung—and she has nothing left. A relationship unable to harbor the weight of her failure. Vi knew her career was something special. More than some could ever have and play twice as long as she did. Maybe now, even in her heated sorrow, her legacy would be protected.

She wouldn't be an aged-out soccer player who couldn't get her ass off the field. Holding onto to your dream like a kid with their emotional support blanket. She walked away with grace, and she did have Cait for a time after her increasingly public fallout. Now, she didn't. Eight months of loneliness, not making her physical therapy appointment, the mental therapy sessions she was missing.

The headlines drenching her in blood.

Everywhere she turned to online patiently awaited her return.

The goat isn't finished yet. Vanderson would never go out like that.

She'll be back stronger than ever.

Vi is 32. Her career is over. No more gold for the "goat".

"She could have warned me my competition is a football legend."

Vi smiles, the compliment is endearing, and even finds herself for a moment worth of the title. However fleeting the feeling comes, it decides to land home for more than a few seconds.

"I'm just a pain in the ass to her. An old college friend she could never get rid of." You hate her so much it hurts, and for the first time, Vi believes herself to be a true masochist.

Vi takes note on how big Abby is. A soft face, a smooth jaw, and a field of freckles coursing every inch of her body. That's the only soft thing about her. Her physique almost seems unreal, built like all she does is chop wood with an axe deep in the woods.

Vi feels insecure around the woman you're clearly having sex with and wondering if she could ever measure up. If you even want her to.

"Yeah, I've seen her college friends." Abby does a double take, "You're clearly not just a friend."

Vi plays with the frayed edges of her cap, catching eyes with you before you shake your shoulders, rolling Vi's presence clean off your body. Trying to anyway. "Neither are you."

"No, so go ahead and ask me. I'll allow you one question."

Calloused hands wrap around the chilled glass, the drink you made for her—you didn't even have to ask what she wanted—you knew.

"How much of a chance do you think I have with her?" Vi is so sweet when she asks. In all truth, she doesn't need to know how Abby fucks you. How pretty Abby thinks you are, all the ways she's had you on whatever surface. Abby throws the bait, but she won't take it. Whatever is going on has very little to do with her, and all she wants to know is what you could be with her.

Your Violet.

It’s clear now it’s all she wants to be.

Now more than ever, her belief lies with you. Maybe it's taken her ten years to accept, but she's always been yours to have. From the very first night, it's all she's been—a thorn of roses for you to pluck. Prick her any way you like.

Vi would happily bleed for you.

"I can see why she likes you." Abby lets the confession roll off her tongue like a precious sin.

With a twinkle in Violet's eyes she asks, "And why is that?"

"You're confident, but not too cocky where you'll push her into something she doesn't want. You're checking in on her, not sending her texts like her other friends probably did. Which tells me all I need to know." The blonde-haired woman disappears for a bit, spending a good half hour on the other side of the bar, before retreating back in front of Violet. Watching her watch you.

Vibrant lilac pen in your hair, tucked behind your ear—chewing on the cap in your mouth and you must have felt her stare—you're zoning in on Vi before you shake yourself out of it. Heading in another direction entirely.

"She's not you know—my girlfriend," Abby strolls over, picking up Vi's empty glass. "And she hasn't called me in the middle of the night in two weeks. Funnily enough, about the same time she rolled her ankle with you."

"Look—"

"Don't. I know when I've been beaten. She'll realize what's happening soon enough." Abby smiles, "Let me know if y'all ever want a third."

The unanswered question floats in the thin air for the remainder of the night. Vi isn't cruel enough to put Abby in a position to hear a stranger pin after the woman she's been fucking. All of it feels beyond her reach, and far beyond how she should act for her each. She's over thirty—Vi shouldn't be acting like some lovestruck teenager who is having a crush for the first time.

Then she stops herself, and she sees you clearer than ever—you are the teenage crush.

The dream Vi couldn't stop seeing every night she fell to sleep. The one she felt guilty about. The person who made her wonder if the sinking feeling in your stomach could be some malicious joke, or if it could be the real deal. Ever since she's been with Cait, she's never gone there. Lacey and Caitlyn—she had never been so grateful for either one of them.

Until she saw you drunk at brunch, crying over Lacey, she never felt it. Not with anyone else before you.

It made her body physcially sick to see you hurt. Tears staining your cheeks, the way your lip quivered and crumbled beneath the weight of your emotions. Mel soothing you enough where you could breathe again. Vi clenched her fists underneath the table, knuckles turning white as she tried to not find Lacey and yell at her for every vicious comment she ever made to you.

She never wants to see you hurt—when you hurt yourself on the asphalt—Vi became entirely a goner. Cradling you in her arms, with this look in your tempting eyes. Vi thought about it for weeks and weeks. If she died right then, it would be the last thing she thought of. The moment before you die, and you see your life.

As pathetic as anyone could be, Vi would see you.

Her teenage crush, a stupid one night stand she would never get over. It all could mean so much more to her. She wants to keep chasing this feeling. Your kindness, your laughter, and the way you're skin glows in the sun with a bottle of champagne flowing through your veins. You are her sun-kissed dream and Violet's always been a bit of a masochist for a little burn.

Being here, in the place you loved more than life itself, it seemed to be the only logical move. The first one she could play without entirely seeming like an obsessed freak.

I'm going to get her this time.

you froze halfway through making tea. “i was going to,” you mumbled softly, fingers tightening on the mug handle.

“you always say that,” she said, voice rising, frustration bubbling up more than she meant. “it’s not that hard y’know?”

the sound of her voice — raised, clipped, a little too close to the tone you used to hear years ago,

something inside you shattered.

you flinched until the mug in your hand clinked against the counter. your breath went shallow. your chest squeezed tight like a fist was wrapped around your lungs. your body remembered things your mind didn’t want to.

you stepped back, eyes wide, whispering, “i’m sorry,” because that was what you always used to say when you got scared.

that was when vi’s expression changed entirely.

the fire in her eyes melted into confusion, then panic. her brows furrowed, lips parting as she noticed how still you’d gone, the tremble in your hands.

“hey hey whoa, sweetheart…” her voice softened instantly. she took one slow step forward, like she was approaching a frightened animal. “baby...”

you tried to nod, tried to breathe, but your throat hurt. your vision blurred around the edges.

she lifted her hands, palms open, not touching you yet. “i’m sorry, love. i didn’t mean to shout. i—” she swallowed hard, guilt flashing across her face. “i didn’t think. can i come closer?”

you gave the smallest nod, barely there.

vi stepped close enough that you could feel her warmth. when she reached out, she moved slow, deliberate. her hands found your face, thumbs brushing under your eyes as she whispered, “oh, baby… i’m so sorry.”

you tried to speak, but all that came out was a shaky, “i thought you were mad at me.”

“no, no, no.” she cupped your cheeks gently, forcing your gaze up. “i’d never be like that, okay? never like—” she stopped herself, her voice breaking a little. “i’d never hurt you. not ever.”

your breath hitched, tears spilling quietly. vi caught them with her thumbs, shaking her head softly. “you didn’t do anything wrong. you didn’t. i raised my voice, and i shouldn’t have. i’m sorry, baby.”

you leaned into her touch, eyes closing, and she took that as permission to pull you closer. arms wrapping around you, tucking your head under her chin.

her heart beat steady and loud against your ear. she pressed a kiss into your hair and rocked you gently, whispering every few seconds—

“i’ve got you.”

“you’re safe.”

“i love you, okay?”

you stayed like that for a while. long enough for your breathing to even out, for your fingers to unclench from the fabric of her jacket.

after a moment, vi murmured, “you wanna sit down? maybe cuddle on the couch?”

you nodded wordlessly.

she led you over carefully, never breaking contact, pulling you into her lap as soon as you sat down. your knees tucked against her sides, her arm around your back, her other hand tracing circles over your thigh.

silence stretched soft between you, broken only by the faint hum of zaun outside.

finally, you whispered, “sometimes it just…happens. i know you’d never hurt me. my brain just—”

“hey.” vi tilted your chin up so you’d look at her. “you don’t have to explain that to me. i get it, things stick with you, yeah?” she gave you a faint smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “you’ve been through hell. i’m not gonna take it personally when something hits old nerves.”

you sniffled, smiling weakly. “you’re too good to me.”

“nah.” she leaned down, kissing your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips. “i just love you too damn much to let you think you’re ever in danger with me.”

she kissed you again, deeper this time, gentle and grounding. when you pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours.

“from now on,” she whispered, “if i ever sound harsh, if i ever say something that makes you feel like that again, you tell me yeah? i’ll listen. i’ll fix it.”

you nodded against her, tears wetting her jacket again, but this time they weren’t from fear.

“promise?” you asked softly.

“cross my heart,” she said, and kissed the top of your head. “never like that, sweetheart. never.”

Caitlyn’s voice brought her back to the present, but Vi was unable to pay attention to what she was saying. There was only one thing on her mind. You.

She couldn’t fully understand every word from the song, but she knew the feeling —heartbreak doesn’t need translation.

 “Sorry, cupcake,” Vi half-smiled, taking a sip of her drink, “Not in the mood tonight.”

Caitlyn nodded, having noticed Vi’s head was clearly elsewhere. “It’s alright. Still thinking about her?”

“Yeah… I always am.”

 As soon as Caitlyn left, Vi ordered a beer bottle and a tequila shot. The shot lasted three seconds on the glass, as she downed it immediately, and held the beer bottle tightly in her hand.

She noticed a couple of girls singing along to the music, and her mind betrayed her once again.

Your voice singing with passion and stopping as Vi tried to join you. You laughed at her attempts to roll her r’s.  You translated a couple of songs to her, and she asked you why most of them were so tragic and sad. Your response was something along the lines of “can’t know love without heartbreak”.

Right now, the memory hit like a punch straight to the ribs.

Vi laughed bitterly, bottle now half-empty, “Shit.”

She pulled out her phone before she could stop herself. The screen glowed too bright, but she quickly went to her contact list and went to the ‘Favorites’ section. Your name was at the top, she hadn’t moved it yet —same photo, same number.

Her thumb hovered over your name, chest tightening as the idea of calling you filled her mind. It was everything she wanted. And it was the last thing she needed.

But it had been weeks. She missed your voice. She missed you.

Vi tried to fight it, she really did… but as it always happened when it came to you, she lost.

She put the phone against her ear, straightening her back as if you would see her. It wings once, twice, and goes straight to voicemail.

Vi puts the phone down and stares at the screen in disbelief. She tries to laugh it off at first, pretending her heart wasn’t breaking again.

“I guess I had it fucking coming,” she muttered to herself.

She finishes the beer bottle and looks at her phone in annoyance, grabbing it once again as she decides to give it another try.

“Come on, honey,” she whispers into the ringing line, as if you would somehow hear it through the air, “Just once.”

It goes to voicemail again.

She curses out loud and drops the phone loudly against the table. The bartender offers her another beer and she grabs it, chugging the alcohol down.

“You should maybe slow down, kid.”

“Fuck off.”

He lifts his hands up in surrender, leaving to serve another client.

Vi didn’t realize she was calling for a third time until she heard the voicemail’s beep, but she didn’t hang up immediately.

“Hey!” she speaks loudly, hoping you’re able to hear her voice over the music, “I did say once that I’d drunk call you if we ever broke up, right?”

She laughs grudgingly at the joke before pausing. Maybe it’s because she’s drunk, or maybe it’s because this is the first time she’s trying to contact you in weeks, but she can’t hold back.

“I miss you,” she mumbles, her words slurring together, “It’s just… fuck, they keep playing these stupid songs that remind me of you. Dónde está tu amor…”

Her voice breaks on the last word, and she clears her throat, hoping the phone’s speaker didn’t catch it.

The bar’s too loud; her chest’s too tight. Her grip on her phone is firm, and she lets out a husky laugh.

She’s made up her mind.

“Screw it,” she mutters and hangs up.

Vi throws a couple of bills on the counter, shoving her jacket on. She makes her way out of the bar and doesn’t even mind getting cursed at after pushing some people out of her way.

She stumbles out into the night, cold air hitting her face, but she doesn’t care anymore.

As her bike’s engine sputters, Vi hesitates. She could just go home and sleep it off. She could pretend this night didn’t happen.

She doesn’t want to bother you. Maybe you’re asleep. Maybe you just don’t want to have anything to do with her anymore.

But the thought of you, your face, your laugh, the way you held her late at night, your voice saying ‘I love you’, your lips filling her face with kisses…

Before she could stop herself, she’s driving to your place.

By the time she stops, it’s outside your building. She doesn’t even remember half the ride, only her heart racing faster than her bike.

Walking up the stairs feels heavier than she remembers. She’s standing in front of your door sooner than she expected, and her knuckles hover over it for a moment. She finally knocks. Soft at first, but firmer as the seconds passed.

Silence.

Then, footsteps.

When you open the door, you’re taken aback at seeing her. Her hair is messy, jacket half-zipped, and eyes glassy but determined. She smells of smoke and alcohol, and she’s looking at you with such depth that you feel your knees threaten to give up.

“Vi?” your voice sounds hoarse, “What– What are you doing here?”

Vi takes a good look at you, and she doesn’t know if she should feel relief or guilt. You’re wearing pajamas and a messy bun, your eyes were puffy, and you had sheet marks on the right side of your face and your arms. You were asleep.

“I—”

“Are you drunk?”

She feels a wave of embarrassment at your accusatory tone, shoulders pulling back as if that might make her look steadier.

“Maybe a little,” she tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You grab your phone to look at the time and notice the missed calls. Ah, this explains it, you thought to yourself.

“You called me three times.”

Vi’s mouth opens, then closes as she realizes she can’t defend herself. “Yeah. That’s kinda why I’m here.”

You furrow your brows and fold your arms, leaning against the doorframe, “At two in the morning?”

Silence stretches between you. You can smell the booze on her breath, but somehow, her familiar scent was underneath it: an odd combination of leather and raspberry. It hits you, but you try not to let it distract you.

As if you weren’t dying to see her, too.

“They were playing your sad cowboy songs,” she says quietly, “I couldn’t help myself. You were all I could think of.”

You take a deep breath. It’s hard to turn her away when she’s looking at you with those eyes —tired, but soft. The same look that would always undo you.

“Vi—”

“I just needed to see you,” she cuts in, words spilling before she can stop them.” I didn’t plan… I just… shit, I missed you, alright?”

Your throat tightens at her confession. For a second, every single reason you had told yourself to stay away from her just turns into nothing.

“You can’t just show up every time a song reminds you of me.”

“It’s not every time,” she groans in exasperation, “I know I shouldn’t be here. You’ve got every right to slam the door in my face. Shit, I wouldn’t blame you.”

She lets out a small, humorless laugh. You look at her, noticing how her hands are anxiously opening and closing into fists, the way her shoulders stay tense, and her jaw tightens.

It’s as if she’s waiting for a punch that won’t come.

“I thought you were doing fine,” you whisper, “You said you were.”

“Yeah, well,” Vi shrugs, glancing down at her feet, “Turns out I’m full of shit.”

You swear you could feel your heart physically ache at the sight. She’s so unguarded, so vulnerable. You don’t know it, but she’s finally stopped pretending it doesn’t hurt.

“Look, I’ll go,” she murmurs, “I just needed to see you.”

As her gaze meets yours again, her resolution vanishes. Her voice drops again, almost a whisper.

“Can I… come in? Just for a minute?”

A part of you wants to say no, to let her know how much it broke you the last time you said goodbye. You both promised you’d try and move on. It was less than a month ago, and you were already breaking that promise.

But another part of you wants to stop pretending you don’t miss her too.

Vi watches as you stare at her in silence. She knows you too well to know you’re hesitating —your lips are pursed, brows slightly furrowed, eyes filled with confusion.

She’s surprised when you step aside.

“Just for a minute.”

Vi nods, exhaling shakily as she steps inside. Everything looks the same, but it feels… smaller. Quieter.

She shoves her hands in her jacket pockets like she’s afraid to touch anything. Still, she’s looking around. Instinctively, her gaze flicks towards the small table by the couch, where you had a photo of you two framed. Her heart slowly breaks as she realizes the photo is no longer there.

“You’ve redecorated,” she says finally, trying to make small conversation.

“Not really, just cleaned up,” you shift your weight from one foot to the other, “Do you want water?”

She lets out a breath, half-smiling, “Sure. Seems like I’ve had everything but that tonight.”

You roll your eyes unconsciously, not realizing you were smiling until you’re in the kitchen filling a glass. You shake your head, trying to remind yourself that you’re exes now.

When you return, you find Vi staring at the place. It’s almost as if it was the first time she came in, and the thought of it maybe being her last time being there almost broke your heart.

“Here you go,” you hand her the glass of water.

She turns around and takes the mug, her fingers brushing against yours for a split of a second. It’s the smallest touch, but it makes you both freeze.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, taking a sip. Her eyes lift to meet yours, “Didn’t think I’d get this far.”

You cross your arms loosely, “You mean, to my door?”

Her quiet laugh fades quickly, “Yeah, that. I gotta admit, I thought you’d tell me to fuck off.”

“You caught me off guard,” you admit, a half-hearted smile tugging at your lips.

Vi’s chest tightens at the sight of your smile, wanting nothing more than to kiss it. But no, she can’t. She manages to restrain herself.

“Guess I still have that effect,” she tries to tease, but her eyes say something else.

You shake your head, “You’re drunk, Violet.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Drunk enough to show up at my place at two in the morning.”

Your comment makes her go still. The playful edge fades, and she looks down at her feet again.

Maybe it was a bad idea to come see you.

“Listen, I’m not trying to mess with you.”

“Then why did you come?”

Vi’s jaw tightens. She knew you could get very stubborn, but she didn’t know how to get the words out of her mouth.

“Because I didn’t know where else to go.”

The words cut sharper than she meant to, and she lets out a breath.

“They were playing your damn songs,” she repeats the explanation, speaking in a softer tone, “It brought me back to you singing and dancing around the kitchen, and I just couldn’t breathe anymore… I needed to see you.”

Her voice breaks at the end, quiet and raw.

You stand there, unsure whether to comfort her or keep your distance —because the truth is, you’ve missed her too.

“Okay…” you mutter to yourself, although Vi could hear it, “This is getting really hard.”

“I’m sorry,” she starts, setting down the mug on the table, “I didn’t mean to make things complicated.”

“Vi, we dated for over two and a half years, and you show up at my door drunk less than a month after breaking up,” you arch a brow, “It is complicated.”

 Vi lets out a quiet laugh, small but real. Finally, you think.

Her expression softens, “I just wanted to see if it still felt the same.”

She notices how you look away from her, fingers fidgeting against each other.

“And does it?”

Vi wants to play nonchalant, maybe save some of her dignity. But when you look back at her, bright eyes staring straight into hers, she can only be honest about her feelings.

“Yeah,” she admits after a long silence, “It’s worse, actually.”

You swallow hard, shaking your head. You motion towards the couch with your hand, and Vi knows this is an invitation to sit down, so she lets herself sink into the cushions.

She feels her heart pound against her chest as you sit right on the other end of the couch. You’re keeping your distance, but it’s still closer than before. That’s more than enough for now.

“You broke it off, remember?”

“I know,” Vi’s voice is rough, “I thought it was the right thing.”

“Right for whom?” You bite back, blinking as you try to remain calm, but the anger slips in your tone.

“I fucked up,” her gaze softens, vulnerable in a way that twists your chest, “But I never, and I mean never, stopped loving you.”

The confession hangs heavy in the air. Vi’s heart feels as if it’s about to explode any moment now, waiting for any reaction on your part.

You don’t answer right away. You’re caught somewhere between anger and longing, between wanting to push her away and wanting to hold her in your arms.

Yell at me, kiss me, kick me out… do anything, Vi thinks to herself, alarmed at your lack of response.

Just as she was about to say something else, you let out a shaky breath.

“I’m not letting you leave while you’re still drunk,” you say in a low voice, “You can stay tonight. On the couch.”

A mix of relief and worry expands through her chest. She’s happy that you let her stay, to see that you still felt something for her or you wouldn’t let her stay —it didn’t matter if it was pity, love, worry, guilt. But she was more unsettled by the fact you ignored her ‘I still love you’ confession.

Still, she wouldn’t push you.

Vi nods, “The couch. Of course.”

You nod back, heading toward the hallway, “I’ll get you a blanket and pillow.”

As you turn away, Vi’s voice stops you.

“Hey,” you glance back and notice her fragile, almost shy expression, “Thanks. For… not slamming the door on my face.”

You don’t smile, but your eyes soften, “No worries.”

As you disappear down the hall, Vi leans back against the couch and exhales slowly. The alcohol and adrenaline are wearing off, leaving behind a mix of exhaustion and self-loathing.

“I’m so pathetic,” she whispers to herself.

She’s startled by your footsteps as you come back, setting the items down beside her on the couch.

“Figured you might want to change out of those clothes.”

Vi glances down and notices something else folded on top of the blanket. It’s a shirt, her old shirt. She thought she lost it weeks ago, or even that her sister had stolen it.

When she looks back up at you, something unspoken passes between you.

“You kept this?”

You blush faintly, shrugging as to play it off, “It’s comfortable.”

It does not sound convincing to either of you, but Vi decides to let you off. She grabs the shirt and notices another pair of shorts and boxers she also thought lost.

“Did I leave my whole closet in here?”

“Gotta be more careful with your stuff,” you nod toward the bathroom, unable to look at her in the eyes, “You can take a shower if you want. Towels are—”

“Under the sink,” she cuts in, smiling softly, “Thanks.”

As Vi walks into the bathroom, she can’t help but feel hope. You kept her clothes, that had to mean something, didn’t it?

When she comes back, her hair’s damp and she’s wearing the pajamas. You unconsciously smile softly at the sight. Somehow, she looks more like herself than she did at your doorframe an hour earlier. Like the Vi you remembered.

“Better?”

“A lot better,” she nods, rubbing the back of her neck, “Thanks. For all of this.”

“No worries,” you say once again, sighing as you stand up, “Goodnight, Vi.”

She watches in silence as you disappear into the hallway. She wants to say something, anything, but decides against it. She lies down on the couch, pulling the blanket over herself and hugging the pillow. It smells faintly of you.

And it takes her a long time to close her eyes.

You lie down in your bed, sighing as you turn to look at your nightstand. You smile gently as you look at the picture, the one that used to sit at the table next to your couch. It’s you and Vi, her arm slung around your shoulders, both of you smiling happily at the camera.

the first time vi saw you, it was through a screen.

she was scrolling through her phone, half-naked in her dorm, still buzzing from a win against the university of minnesota.

her roommate was passed out, her muscles ached, and she was too wired to sleep.

so she did what she always did—opened twitter, checked the mentions, ignored the thirst tweets.

and clicked on a link someone had posted in a quote retweet. it was a stream. a camgirl site.

the kind of thing her teammates joked about in the locker room, the kind of thing vi never really paid attention to.

but the thumbnail made her pause.

you were beautiful. dark skin glowing under soft pink lights, hair pulled back in a silk scarf, a lace chemise slipping off one shoulder.

you weren't looking at the camera.

you were looking down, fidgeting with the hem of your top, like you were nervous. like you were somewhere else entirely.

vi clicked.

she watched for ten minutes. then twenty. then an hour.

you didn't do much. you talked to your viewers in a low, sweet voice, laughing at their comments, stretching out on your bed like a cat.

you were good at this—the performance, the persona. but vi could see the cracks. the way your smile didn't quite reach your eyes.

the way you flinched when someone said something crude. you were pretending. and vi couldn't look away.

the second time vi saw you, it was at a party.

a house off campus, packed with students, cheap beer sweating on every surface.

vi was there because her teammates dragged her, because she was supposed to be social, because she was the star of the women's hockey team and people expected her to show up.

she was leaning against the kitchen counter, nursing a red cup, when she saw you across the room.

you were wearing a tight black dress, heels that made your legs look endless, and a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

vi recognized you immediately.

you were talking to some guy who was leaning too close, his hand on your arm, his mouth moving too fast.

you were nodding, laughing, playing the part.

but vi saw the tension in your shoulders, the way you kept stepping back, the way your eyes darted toward the door.

vi moved without thinking.

she crossed the room, slid her hand around your waist, and pulled you against her side. "hey, baby. sorry i'm late."

you looked up at her, startled. the guy's face flickered with confusion, then disappointment.

"who the fuck are you?" he asked.

"vi." she didn't look at him. she was looking at you. "her girlfriend. you got a problem?"

the guy muttered something under his breath and walked away.

you were still staring at her, your body tense, your breath shallow. "you're not my girlfriend."

"no," vi said, her voice low. "but you looked like you needed an out."

you blinked. something cracked in your expression. the mask slipped, just for a second, and vi saw the exhaustion underneath. "thanks," you whispered.

"don't mention it."

the third time vi saw you, it was intentional.

she found your stream again that night, watched from her bed with the lights off.

you were back in your pink-lit room, back in your lace, back to performing. but you seemed different.

quieter. you kept looking at the camera like you were looking for something.

vi sent a tip. just a small one. with a message: you okay?

you read it. your lips parted. you looked at the camera, really looked, and vi felt something twist in her chest.

"i'm okay," you said, like you were answering her. like you knew. "just tired."

vi sent another tip. you don't have to do this if you don't want to.

you laughed, but it was hollow. "that's sweet. but i don't have a choice."

vi wanted to argue. she wanted to tell you that everyone has a choice, that you could do anything, that you were more than this. but she didn't know you. not really.

so she just watched, and waited, and when your stream ended, she sent you a private message.

my name's vi. i'm the girl from the party. if you ever need someone to talk to, i'm here.

you didn't reply that night. but three days later, your name appeared in her notifications.

hey. it's the camgirl. thanks for not being weird about it.

and that was the beginning. you started talking every day.

texts at first, short and careful. then longer messages, late at night, when the world was quiet and you didn't have to pretend.

you told vi about your life—how you were a junior, how you were majoring in something you didn't care about, how the money from streaming paid your tuition and your rent and your mom's medical bills.

"i hate it," you admitted one night, your voice raw over the phone. "i hate showing my body to strangers. i hate the comments. i hate feeling like i'm nothing but a pair of tits and a pretty face."

"you're not," vi said. "you're so much more than that."

"how do you know? you've only seen me naked."

"i've seen you laugh at your own jokes. i've seen you get shy when someone says something nice. i've seen you read poetry in the middle of your stream because you forgot to mute your mic. i've seen you, not just your body."

you were quiet for a long time.

"that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"then you've been hanging out with the wrong people."

the first time you met in person, vi took you to a diner at 2 a.m.

you were nervous, picking at your nails, wearing a hoodie that swallowed your frame. vi was nervous too, but she didn't show it.

she ordered you pancakes and made you laugh and watched the tension drain from your shoulders.

"why are you being so nice to me?" you asked, halfway through your second plate.

"because you deserve it."

"you don't even know me."

"i know enough."

you looked at her with those big, tired eyes, and vi felt something shift in her chest. something dangerous. something that felt a lot like falling.

the first time you kissed, it was in her car, parked outside your apartment.

you'd been sitting in silence, the radio playing something soft, your hands inches apart on the center console. vi was staring at the steering wheel, her jaw tight, her heart pounding.

"i want to kiss you," she said. "but i don't want to make this weird."

"what if i want you to kiss me?"

vi turned. you were already looking at her, your lips parted, your breath shallow. "are you sure?"

"vi."

that was all it took.

she leaned in, slow, giving you time to pull away. you didn't. your lips met, soft and tentative, and vi felt the world tilt. you tasted like coffee and syrup and something sweet.

you made a small sound against her mouth, and vi deepened the kiss, her hand sliding into your hair, pulling you closer.

when you broke apart, you were both breathing hard.

"okay," you whispered. "that was—"

"yeah."

"can we do that again?"

vi smiled. "as many times as you want."

the first time you fought, it was about the streaming.

you were in vi's dorm, curled up on her bed, your head in her lap. she was running her fingers through your hair, tracing patterns on your scalp, and you were almost asleep.

"i've been thinking," vi said, her voice careful.

"mm?"

"about your stream."

you tensed. "what about it?"

"i don't like it."

you sat up, pulling away. "vi—"

"i know. i know it's not my place. i know you do it for the money. but i hate the idea of other people seeing you like that. i hate knowing that they're out there, watching you, wanting you. you're my girlfriend."

"i'm not your property."

"i know that. fuck, i know that. but i'm possessive, okay? i don't want anyone else seeing what's mine."

you stared at her, your eyes hard. "i'm not yours, vi. i'm not anyone's. and i don't need you to save me."

"i'm not trying to save you. i'm trying to support you. let me help. let me pay for your tuition, your rent, whatever. just—stop. stop letting them see you."

"and then what? i depend on you? i owe you? no. i've been dependent on men my whole life. i won't be dependent on you."

"it's not about owing me. it's about—"

"about what? your ego? your jealousy?"

"about loving you."

the words hung in the air, heavy and raw.

you looked at vi, really looked, and saw the vulnerability in her eyes. the fear. the desperation.

"i love you too," you said, your voice breaking. "but i can't stop. not yet. not until i know i can stand on my own."

vi closed her eyes. "then i'll wait."

the fight didn't end there.

it festered, grew, bled into other arguments. you were both stubborn, both proud, both terrified of being hurt. vi hated watching you stream. you hated feeling like a burden.

but you loved each other. and that was the worst part.

the night everything changed, you invited vi to watch your stream.

"i want you to see what i do," you said. "really see it."

vi sat in the corner of your room, out of frame, her arms crossed, her jaw tight. you put on your performance—the smiles, the laughs, the teasing. you took off your clothes piece by piece, your eyes fixed on the camera, your body on display.

but your mind was on vi.

when the stream ended, you turned to her, breathless and raw.

"well?"

vi stood. crossed the room. cupped your face in her hands.

"you're the most beautiful thing i've ever seen," she said. "and i hate that they get to see it too."

you kissed her, hard and desperate, and she kissed you back like she was drowning.

that night, she showed you what it meant to be wanted by someone who actually saw you.

the first time you said yes to vi's help, it was because your mom's hospital bill came in and you couldn't breathe.

you called vi, sobbing, and vi was at your door in twenty minutes with a check already written.

"pay me back when you can," she said. "or don't. i don't care. just—let me take care of you."

you took the check. you stopped streaming. and slowly, painfully, you started to heal.

the first time vi took you to a game, you sat in the front row, wearing her jersey, your heart pounding.

she scored the winning goal. and when she looked up at the stands, she pointed at you.

you were hers. and she was yours. and that was enough.

𝐦𝐚𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 (13/50): @iadorefineshyt @pretty-u @y1ppeeyur1 @ryuwifes @almadellie @unicornclit666 @ajs-blogz @webwand3rer @blackdykegirlblogger @hopefullydoingokay2 @mermaidslament @dearbaes