@cruxotic - Tumblr Blog

like ribbons in your hair, my stomach's all in knots

you got the one thing that i want.

# summary. after violet paints your most treasured night in a new light, you avoid her like the plague, but if there's one thing about her—she's not going to make this easy for you.

# warning label, eighteen+ only. wc 9k+, older!vi x fem!reader, lesbian level yearning, abby cameo because i lover her, emotional lesbian sex, vi so pussy whipped it's crazy, angst (do i even need to put a warning this is me we're talking about), two women in love.

# rayne yaps. ngl ,, i was beginning to wonder if i would ever post again. i've been holding this one in the #rayvault for a long time but she deserves a little life outside my ellipsus docs. hopefully this will kickstart something bc ur girl has been struggling hard. anyways, hopefully y’all enjoy.

series masterlist.

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.

The woman of my dreams.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs