writing some stories that can’t take off my head | requests for Vi are closed - sorry, writer's block :( i'm trying to catch up with my previosuly requested stories
You shut your notebook with a loud thwack, your purple pen rolling off the desk.
"I always knew that. But this? This is a whole new level of crushing," she whispered, sliding into the seat beside to you. "You've officially hit peak obsession."
"W-what?" you squeaked, pressing your hand flat against the notebook cover. "I'm not obsessed."
"Your purple glitter pen tells me otherwise."
"And what does that tell you?" you snapped back, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks.
She leaned closer, pencil tapping lightly against her binder, a delighted glint in her gaze. "It tells me you have a huge, pathetic-but-cute crush on Lanes," she said, pointing at you with the sharpened tip. "But what do I know, right?"
You risked a glance forward.
Vi was sitting a few rows lower, almost at the front, in stark contrast to the rest of the lecture hall. Most students were half-asleep, drooping in their hairs, nursing what looked like the remnants of an unreasonable Sunday-night hangover for the third day in a row. Some even leaned back with eyes closed, desperately trying to catch up on sleep instead of advanced equations.
Violet.
She seemed genuinely interested in those crazy slides full of math formulas - formulas you could barely remember two of, no matter how many sticky notes you plastered on your textbooks, laptop, and even the mirror in your dorm. Nothing seemed to stick. Letters and numbers blurred together in your mind, slipping through your memory like water.
On the other hand, Vi was fully alert on a Wednesday morning, pen moving smoothly across her notebook which made you wonder... how did she do that? How did she manage to ace every exam, show up to every practice, and score in every single match with such ease?
It seemed impossible, but Violet made it look so effortless.
Perfectly-coded.
As if she was built different.
And you couldn't help staring, caught between awe and maybe... the tiniest crush you'd quietly nurtured over the last year.
Not to mention how good she looked in that grey hoodie - even if it was one she wore at least three times a week.
You shifted slightly in your seat, trying not to stare too obviously, though every fiber of your body urged you to turn again, just to steal a glimpse of her pink hair, promising it would be enough.
But, after all this time, you knew yourself better - it was never enough.
You could never get enough of Violet.
You fought the neediness, a nervous lump forming in your throat.
"Nothing," you said, voice sharper than intended, trying to mock Mel, "you know nothing, exactly," just to end up mocking yourself.
You had hoped the summer break would erase it, that time apart from shared walls of Piltover College might dull the ache of your stupid crush-situation.
But no.
Somehow you found yourself lowkey yearning to return to campus while everyone else complained about summer ending too soon.
You were stuck.
So stuck that you had actually enrolled in this course, despite your no-math streak stretching seven months past the obligatory math program which made it painfully clear you were far from being a math enthusiast. But the chance to see Violet, even from a distance, was supposed to make the semester bearable, worth enduring every confusing lecture.
It only made things worse, instead. Not only did you feel even more incompetent, struggling to keep up even with Mel's attempts to save you from flunking, but it also highlighted just how... unideal you were compared to Violet.
You weren't nearly enough, you thought, which made you want to disappear even more.
So stuck that you couldn't take a step forward, nor a step back. You had trapped yourself in the middle of nothing, lingering in a static place where saying a stupid "hi" felt impossible.
Stuck to the point, you were practicing your handwriting using her name over and over again.
Violet.
Violet. Violet. Violet.
"If you're going to keep starring at her, at least be more subtle about it," Mel said, nudging you with her elbow. "People are already talking, so if you want to ogle her, get ready for the gossip."
You pressed your lips together, feeling completely called out, and said nothing.
It was easy for Mel to say those things, to tease you. If you were anyone else, maybe you'd have laughed along, finding it cute the way she pointed out your obvious crush you were so adamant to hide.
But in your case... it felt anything but cute.
Maybe, in some distant, alternative universe, one where you had even the slightest chance, it could have been.
But here? In your reality? You knew your place - and you had grasped it quickly. Your place wasn't in this math course, and it certainly wasn't next to Violet.
"Good then I do not stare," you muttered, your gaze dropping to your notebook as you frantically searched for a blank page untouched by purple ink.
"Have you seen your grades from the entrance test? He sent them back at, like, two in the morning. This man never sleeps, I swear," your best friend mumbled with her voice low, not to disturb the professor. "I got almost eighty percent. You?"
"I... passed," you muttered, pretending you knew how to solve it, if you only brought the calculator with you, the pencil hovering over the page.
"Oh - that's a good thing, right?"
"Mhm."
Better to scrape by than fail completely.
You copied another equation from the projector in stiff, uneven handwriting, knowing you'd abandon it to homework later anyway. Numbers weren't your language - you definitely shouldn't have enrolled in a math course.
But then again, if you hadn't, you wouldn't be here.
You wouldn't be six rows behind her, watching her messy, damp hair from practice while she scribbled solutions right away, and then waited for another one, leaning back on the chair and sipping on her mango energy gel with carbohydrates.
"I wouldn't be here either if the architecture track didn't require this class," your best friend sighed, dragging you back down from your daydream.
"At least, you're keeping up," you huffed as you placed your hand under your chin, already doodling.
"You'd actually keep up if you were writing equations instead of "Violet" all over your notes."
Heat surged across your cheek, as your fingers tightened around your pencil.
"Shut up, Mel. Shut up."
violet: whatever you think I need help with
violet: I don't
mel: clearly
violet: stop texting me mel and stop riling Jayce up over this
violet: he's getting annoying
hello! this was just a random thought I had but vi x fem reader college au slow burn . reader has a best friend who is very extroverted and popular, while reader is quiet and shy. readers bsf has a bf who is also popular, but he has a bsf which is vi. vi is kinda loser lesbian and nerdy, but the hot kinda nerdy who likes reading, anime, art, and math, but also plays hockey and works out. reader and vi know each other bc of their bsf’s, but never talk to each other bc their both to shy too (lesbian yearning 😩), until their bsf’s pull a parent trap on them and get them to go on a date together. their both kinda awkward at first but slowly loosen up. they talk to each other more when their bsf’s are together and drag vi and reader along. vi builds up the courage to ask reader out on a real date and reader agrees. lots and lots of fluff, vi getting a little protective over reader, reader and vi sharing their first kiss together (both of them have never kissed anyone before), maybe vi teaches reader how to ice skate since she’s a hockey player, etc. i would prefer this to be just one long story (i literally have no patience and love reading long fics), but if you’d prefer to write chapters than do that instead. thanks so much ❤️
Hello 🎀
I have a super short first scene for this 📝💖 It's actually so fun to write and helps me fight off writer's block 😅
Since it's hard to keep up with my WIPs, I might have to send it in tiny little parts. I hope that's okay - I feel like I'm hitting my head against a blank page sometimes.
but don't worry! I promise to keep it as cute as I can 🥰
Take care,
Emilie 🎀
PS: Sorry for not updating other requests - I have them half-written, but they are not ready and I want you to read best thing I can give you 💔
hiii, so i’m once again the anon who asked for the vi x single mom, and i’m so excited to read that 😆, butttt, i came up with another story that I would love to see you write.
vi x fem reader, college au. once again vi is a hockey player bc why not. reader is a closeted lesbian who is dating the quarterback of the football team. vi, reader and readers bf are all in the same friend group. readers bf is kinda an asshole. reader and vi are secretly dating/hooking up and no one knows. it started with glances at each other that lasted a little longer than need be etc, then turned into reader blurting out she’s a lesbian to vi and she has been secretly crushing on vi for months, and then it leads to vi and reader secretly dating. vi gets very jealous seeing reader with her bf in public bc she wishes that reader would just break up with him and come out, but she never pushes reader’s boundaries like that. reader ends up choosing vi over her bf one time which leads bf to get suspicious of the two. vi and reader get caught hanging out alone by one of the ppl in their friend group and tell readers bf which causes a huge argument and ultimately reader comes out to her bf. reader and bc break up and then happy ending for vi and reader 🥳
okay idk if any of that made sense but add whatever you want or you can just use this as inspo if you’d like. thanks so much <3
Hello again 🎀
I realy love your idea 🥹💖 and I want to try writing it, but honestly my brain’s been kinda stuck… I’ve got a bunch of WIPs that don’t make sense when I try to write, and on top of that I’ve had some personal stuff on my mind too. 💭
So it might take me a little while, but I promise I’m holding onto this inspo. ✨
Thank you so much for being patient with me and sorry it took me so long to respond 😩🩷
I love tracking every bit of progress I make, so here's a little WIP update! These word counts are only for the parts that are publishable (editing included!), so they are longer anyway. I know it might not mean much, but I thought I'd share them with you anyway 💖
🩷 Pink Means Trouble - 0.8k
🚲 How to Fix a Bike and Not Fall in Love - 2.3k
🛏️ Beds and Rinks. Soaked Socks and Shared Rooms - 1.7k
I think How to Fix a Bike and Not Fall in Love will be the first one to get published since it was the first request I received and a shorter one. I'll be catching up on Beds and Rinks and Pink Means Trouble right after that!
I do aim for long stories here! (is 10k enough for one-shots? I just hope to hit the numbers, like, do the work Emi, do the work! 😂)
Slowly but surely getting there - thank you for being patient and excited with me 🫶✨
hi, so I’m the anon who asked for the vi x single mom reader, and I saw you have already started working on it and I’m so happy you love the idea. at first I wasn’t sure if I should request it bc you have so much your writing right now (I also love your work and can’t wait to read the next chapters in your stories 😆) but you are one of my fav writers on here so I knew I had to request it. I can’t wait to read it. thank you so much for writing it <3
Hello again 🎀
Of course - you can request anything anytime! 💌
Worst case scenario, I'll just get to it a little later while I catch up on my current writing projects, but that's completely fine. I'll try my best to update requested stories in order, so no-one feels left out. 💔
By the way, your request officially happening in my WIPs under the title "Pink Means Trouble" and let's just say Nova is already causing some chaos, the cutest little menace. 🤭❤️
Thank you for being so thoughtful and supporting me on my writing journey. ❤️
── pairing: roommate! hockeyplayer! vi x reader
── tropes: friends to enemies -> enemies to lovers, forced proximity, roommates, sports, slow burn, sibling's teammate
── summary: Your first days at Piltover University would have been way scarier if it wasn't for your older sister and her friends. And a cup of chocolate yogurt.
── note from Emilie: Shorter one 😌 I think I added everyone to the taglist, but if I missed you by accident, just let me know!
based on this request 🩵
<- previous | next ->
── chapter 02: "cooler than me"
You knew your sister was popular at Piltover University.
That much was obvious, especially with her Instagram basically exploding with followers. She even made a private backup account, somewhere in the middle of her summer break, when the two of you were laying on the deckchairs, trying to get that perfect tan in your parents' backyard.
Celine was only in her first year back then, while you were still stuck in high school, watching notifications on her screen pouring in tags on post, reels, stories.
"It won't shut up," she groaned, flipping her phone to silent mode while you rubbed sunscreen onto her shoulder, giggling.
"We can drown it in the pool, if you want."
"Oh, yes please."
You figured it was just easy to like her. And honestly, that wasn't surprising. You adored her too. Everyone did. She carried a comforting presence, like you could be the worst person in the room, yet she still would have flashed you with a welcoming smile.
Did you admire her? A thousand times yes.
Did you want to be like exactly like her? No, not really.
What you didn't know was that she was something closer to a star rather than just a likable student who happened to be freakingly good at hockey.
You only realized it as she dragged you through the hallways on your first day. Students were smiling at her, calling out congratulations about the last match and waving like they were old friends. And she always waved back, even if she didn't remember their names.
It felt strange at first. Seeing a completely different version of your sister you knew from home. The one who wore ratty pajamas and stole your fries and complained about cramps leaning on the wall of your shared bathroom.
Hockey was apparently a thing in Piltover - a private, expensive university - which might explain the ridiculously sleek canteen she led you into, with glass stretching all the way up to the ceiling.
Everything in this complex screamed money - high walls, full-length windows and glossy flooring that reflected too much to be anything as simple as a cheap tile.
Stepping in for the first time was probably the most intimidating experience of your life, especially with your older sister striding through the corridors like she owned every piece of this place, while you, the freshman, trailing behind her like a lost puppy.
And, god, you were lost.
Because choosing Piltover University was more like buying a new piece of clothing purely on an impulse, rather than a well-thought-out decision.
You were in your final year of high school, exams already behind you, yet still unsure of what you wanted, what you were good at, if anything. Just existing in the quiet comfort of your home, lazily scrolling through university and college programs scattered across the Runeterra state.
You were standing in the backyard with your sister, filling the pool under the heavy heat of summer. She was lounging nearby, phone resting on her chest with her eyes closed.
And out of nowhere, like it was nothing, she said, "You should apply to my uni. Could be fun."
That was all it took.
With your father's generous funding thrown in - doubling up - because you were just two points short of the acceptance list.
You weren't exactly proud of it. But the idea of attending the same university as your sister dulled the sting of reading that rejection letter the first time.
No talent. No accolades. Just a bit of money and your sister's name trailing behind you like a shadow. That's what earned you a spot at Piltover University.
And when your mother's new architecture firm suddenly took on the renovation of the university's conference hall, it somehow pushed your placement from a public branch in the outskirts right into the heart of Piltover's elite campus.
You didn't even get to unpack your boxes, but you weren't about to complain. Only an idiot would.
Nevertheless, you also knew that having a spot in a program was completely different thing than truly belonging there. Which made you wonder if Celine had felt it before, or seen someone stuck in that in-between space, because the moment she finished helping you unpack during her free period, she grabbed your hand to take you for lunch.
As your eyes searched for an open table, your sister was already walking past every single one, heading straight for the round table tucked beneath the massive glass window. It looked like the kind of spot reserved for the effortlessly cool.
And hell, it was.
Because the cool kids were already sitting there as your sister tossed her gym bag onto the growing pile of others and slid into her seat. Meanwhile, you were still hovering awkwardly beside the table, unsure if you were supposed to sit down, keep standing, or worst of all, go find another empty table on your own.
"You gonna stand there till the break's over, or...?"
In one second, your cheeks flushed warm and red as you tucked in as close as you could to your sister, your moves clumsy.
"Be nice, Vi."
Celine gave your knee a gentle squeeze under the table as you pushed your hands nervously under your thighs.
"Trying," she said, taking a bite of her apple as she maintain eye-contact with you.
You recognized her face from your sister's phone wallpaper - a shot of the two of them mid-laugh and arms thrown up in victory after making it into the semi-finals for the first time.
And then there was that one time Celine FaceTimed you somewhere around the winter break, when you were in Italy with your parents. You were walking around those breathtaking, narrow alleys, skin sticky from sunscreen and wearing a flowy sundress that showed off the sunburns stretching across your shoulders.
Celine had called from her mandatory sports camp, sweaty from practice and laying on a bed in her hotel room with her hair messily tied up in a plait. She barely said hello before flipping the camera toward her present roommate.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Vi Lanes," she announced with theatrical flair. "Say hi to my sister," she hit with commands, like it wasn't a big deal.
As if Vi wasn't the captain of their hockey team.
You remembered her looking straight into the camera, flashing you a quick grin before turning back to sharpen her skates. You probably just blinked at the view, dumbfounded, clutching your glass of orange soda, feeling her cool-girl energy radiating off your screen.
She waved. You didn't.
"How's your trip?" Camera flipped back, your sister's face filled the app window.
And now, somehow, that girl was siting right across from you.
"So, that's your little sister," said the broad-shouldered girl at the end of the table, glancing your way with a fork mid-air and a tone that didn't quite ask, just stated.
You learnt her name - Sevika. Senior student with a presence that made you want to sit up a little straighter without knowing why.
Celine must have sensed you stiffening, because she slung her arm over your shoulder and pulled you closer.
"One and only," she grinned proudly. "She got into the program last minute. Had me up half the night refreshing the site over FaceTime. Thought I would lost her to Zaun University."
You smiled when she scrunched her nose and made a mock gagging sound, wincing like the thought only was unbearable.
Vi just rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Watch your mouth. I'm from Zaun, y'know?"
Celine raised an eyebrow, unphased. "Yet, here you are, playing for Piltover."
Vi smirked, leaning back in her chair as she folded arms on her chest. "Only 'cause they offer scholarship."
"Sure." Celine said flatly, rolling her eyes.
Few minutes passed by, you listening your sister talking to Sevika and, later introduced, Maddie while Vi rested both elbows on the granite-gray table, chin propped in one hand. Her gaze drifted around the canteen. Not quite bored, more like casually detached. She barely acknowledged the lingering looks some girls kept sneaking her way.
You couldn't help yourself, but look closer, with fork hanging still in your hand. Her hoodie dipped just low enough at the neck for you to catch the edge of a tattoo creeping up her skin.
Damn...
She took the last bite of her apple, the core still hanging loosely between her fingers.
"Your tattoos-" The words slipped out before your brain could stop them.
Her head snapped toward you, sharp and sudden, and whatever you'd meant to say shriveled up on your tongue.
Your mouth opened, but no sound followed. Everything in your head just... clammed up.
"What about them?" she asked, her voice warm.
"They... pretty."
Oh god. Pretty? Seriously? You could feel yourself shrinking into your seat. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Celine huffed in amusement as she broke out from her conversation.
But Vi didn't seem to mind. She flashed you a smirk and it made things worse in the best way. "Thanks, kid. At least someone around here appreciates them."
Your nervousness seemed to melt. "Is that so?"
Celine scoffed lightly, chewing her scrambled eggs. "They wanted to expel her. No tattoos allowed in Piltover, so I hope you're not hiding one on your butt."
Vi laughed, strands of her pink hair dropped on her forehead. "That was just a threat. They like to pretend they've got higher standards than Zaun U."
"So they didn't?" you asked, glancing between them.
"Nope, they wouldn't risk losing a good player," Celine said, shrugging. "Winning games means money. Vi's basically their golden ticket."
Vi winked at you, pushed a yogurt cup across the table, then tossed her bag over her shoulder and stood out. She said something to the girls about forgetting something from the locker room, before she headed out.
You felt a brush on your shoulder. "She took the last chocolate one, again. I wanted that." Celine leaned her head back with a dramatic groan. "What a menace."
And just like that, if you thought your sister was cool - Vi Lanes was cooler.
"Coming to the game?" Maddie unscrewed the cap of her water bottle taking a sip.
"What game?" You turned you head to Celine.
"Opening match. Noxus Trifarians versus Piltover Enforcers. Just a friendly season kickoff," she said. "You wanna come?"
"If you're playing," you answered without missing a beat.
"Sure thing."
You nodded, gaze already drifting toward the canteen exit, searching for the glimpse of pink hair disappearing through the crowd.
Your finger clutched around little, plastic spoon.
Okay so this is gonna be kinda long so bare with me. I’ve had this idea for a while but have just never asked it. Also the fic itself may be kinda long depending on how much you’d prefer to write, and if you could maybe put it all into one long fic I would love that, but if you prefer chapters than do whatever you prefer.
okay so, Vi x Fem reader, college au, Vi is captain of the hockey team, sleeps around a little bit, kinda cocky. Reader is a mom who got pregnant at 17 and now has a 5 year old daughter (to help with names I personally love the name Nova or Deserae). Reader’s ex bf broke up with her bc of the pregnancy and readers been single ever since, never dates, or even talks to other ppl. Very protective over her daughter and never brings ppl around her. Beginning of the fic could kinda start with reader and her daughter are at a park which is when readers daughter sees Vi bc of her red hair (readers daughter loves Vi’s hair) and goes up to her. They talk a little and that’s how Vi meets reader and practically falls in love immediately. Flash forwards, it’s the start of the second semester and reader is taking a new class which Vi happens to be in the class, sees reader with her daughter and goes to sit next to them. Readers daughter remembers Vi bc of her hair and immediately starts to talk to Vi. Vi and reader start talking a little and reader is a little cold towards Vi at first, but slowly overtime starts to become more open to Vi. Vi starts flirting with reader, letting readers daughter sit in her lap during the lecture, readers daughter always tries to play with Vi’s hair, maybe vi even brings snacks for readers daughter to eat during the class, vi asks reader to come watch her hockey game and to bring her daughter (vi scores the winning goal for reader and her daughter) vi and reader start flirting until Vi finally asks reader on a date. Flash forward, they start dating, vi kinda becomes a mom who stepped up, and readers daughter absolutely loves Vi. Maybe some smut preferably dom vi and sub reader (if your comfortable writing that). And then happy ending 😁.
(I’m sorry that was very long 😭) But add whatever you would like to the story, or if you’d like to change everything and just keep the idea, then you can do that. Thanks so much!!
Hello, love! 🎀
When I first saw the message, I was like - woah, woah, wait - what's going on? That's a long one. 🤭
But then, I dove right in, and before I knew it... I was already writing it 😂 I've got about 1k words down so far and even made a space for it in my WIPs, complete with a banner and everything! It's shaping up to be more of a one-shot than chaptered fic, but it will be long.
As for the smut - I haven't written that kind of scene before, but I'm definitely open to giving it a shot. Honestly, I'm really excited to explore the dynamic you described. I can already feel this is going to be a fun one to write. 🥰
Not a request just had to tell you you’re an INCREDIBLE writer and story builder. I read your stories like I’m addicted to huffing glue and you’re my favorite kind, I check your page so often I feel like a creepy ex. I love you and you’re writting and I can’t wait to read more from you!!! ❤️❤️❤️
Hi there!
The fact that you took the time to show up in my message box? I feel like I just received a freaking love letter - seriously, that was the sweetest thing 😭💌
You're the reason I stay up too late writing and edit things over and over again until it feels just right. I'm honestly so lucky to have you here! Thank you from the bottom of my heart 🫶
Just so you don't have to keep checking (even though I love that you're here 😭), the next update will be coming Thursday or Friday, depending on your time zone 🕰️💕
Also, I've got a little idea for a requested story, so I think I'll be doing another poll soon to test the waters 👀 If you feel like joining in to throw in your opinion, I'd love that - no pressure at all though 🥰
I don’t have any ideas for it, but i would loooovvvveeeee to see you come up with an idea for a childhood best friends to lovers with Vi👀 I think that’d be SO cute. (Happy ending preferably).
Love your fics btw I eat them up EVERY time😍 your writing is so good!
Hello! 🎀
First of all - ahhh thank you so much for your sweet words, it means the world to me. I really enjoy writing for you loves. I mean it's just my hobby but seeing your comments makes me melt 😭🩷
Second of all… oh my god, the childhood best friends to lovers idea with Vi?? That is so cute 😩💘
I'd love to write something for it, maybe a little drabble or headcanon since I've already got two series going on right now. Probably going to end-up with a long one-shot, anyway 🤭
Since you gave me such a big wiggle room to play with the idea, I'll throw it back to you guys: would you prefer it to be a modern!AU or set in Arcane world?
Let me know what you'd like to see! 💭😌
PS: Totally unrelated, but I've been thinking to introduce also a new pairing CaitVi x reader, still not sure. What you think about it, loves?
── pairing: roommate! hockeyplayer! vi x reader
── tropes: friends to enemies -> enemies to lovers, forced proximity, roommates, sports, slow burn, sibling's teammate
── summary: Watching your older sister lose the game is hard. Watching her chance to take part in the championships shatter into pieces after a body-crash on ice. Heartbreaking. But here's the worst part: Vi Lanes, the one who took her out, still sticks around, both of them laughing like no one's bones ever cracked. Your sister has moved on, but you find yourself stuck on the front bench, replaying that fall on loop. No matter how hard you try, you can't erase that accident from your head and Vi sleeping just a few feet away isn't helping.
── note from Emilie: I've been working on this chapter every single day for over a week now, and wow - it's been a bit of an emotional roller coaster! I poured my heart into it, and I truly hope it meets your expectations. If you spot any little mistakes, feel free to let me know in the comments or shoot me a message. Your feedback means the world to me! Thank you so much for reading, and most of all…
Enjoy your 8k read 🩵🏒
based on this request 🩵
<- previous | next ->
── chapter 01: "sleepover gone over"
It wasn't the first time you tiptoed through the dimly lit hallway, your fluffy slippers thumping softly against the cold tiles and your pink-checked pajama trousers peeking out from beneath your long coat.
It was a Friday night in the middle of December.
Your hair, still damp from a quick shower (pretty unreasonable thing to do during winter season) was twisted into a messy bun that bounced with each step up the stairs. Slung over your shoulder was your self-designed canvas bag, already straining under the weight of your favorites. Lemon cream-filled cookies, salsa-flavored crisps, two hydration masks, and enough energy drinks to keep you both alive until at least three in the morning.
You'd picked it all up at the market without even needing a list. You knew which aisle had the exact snacks you needed. This was your thing. Your sacred ritual. Ever since you'd managed to get into the same university as your older sister, two years after she started, it was like you'd been trying to make up for every second you'd spent apart.
And Friday nights like this?
They were made for soft blankets, long talks and a good cry.
You were more than ready to jump into her too-fancy, too-small single-bed, steal her fluffiest pillow and put on the most heartbreakingly tragic movie you could find. The kind you'd both watch with your faces half-buried, silently competing over who would shed a tear first, and then blaming it on the non-existing onions.
So there you were, practically sprinting through the second-floor hallway, your bag bumping against your hip and not giving a damn about how much noise you made. Most of the third-years were already blasting music or crammed into someone's dorm, playing bottle spin and drinking cheap drinks that smelled like bad decisions.
Just an average, student-style kickoff of the weekend. Something way different than a sleepover with your older sister you adored.
You hadn't even texted her. Didn't think like you needed to. It was like a habit. Something she couldn't back out of without a good excuse. Fridays meant girls' night. Just you and her critiquing actors' abs like experts and tearing through another pack of cookies without guilt.
Your fingers tightened around the thin strap of your bag as it slipped down your shoulder. You pressed your palm against the handle of the door marked with the gold number 78, pushing it open like you always did at nine o'clock on Friday evening.
Except this time, you froze in the doorway.
There was no soft glow from her bedside lamp. No sign of her curled up in that ridiculous onesie you gave her the year before she left for uni. No quiet hum of your shared playlist, the one you'd stitched together during your first sleepover in her dorm, filled with vintage pop, weepy ballads and songs you both claimed to hate but still knew every line to.
Just noise.
The hallway had already been vibrating with muffled bass and the occasional clink of bottles, but now it hit you full force.
Voices. Too many for a two-people sleepover. Laughter, loud and raw, layered on top of each other.
Her room didn't feel like hers. It didn't feel like a room anymore.
It felt like a rink. Literally.
The air was thick with body heat and sugar. Her bed as completely buried under a heap of Piltover hockey jerseys and discarded jackets. The floor? Drowning in beer cans and torn wrappers.
You could already count at least five people, crammed into that small space that was made for one, two at most.
And in the middle of this mess, there she was - Celine.
Or, rather the version of her you hadn't seen in a while.
Her hair was pulled back into a high, sleek ponytail - a hairstyle she only wore when she was going out. Her cheeks were flushed and round in that way she always got when she was too excited to tell a story she thought was mid-blowing. Her smile stretched wide, not the half-hearted one she reserved for professors, or the soft, tired one she saved for your late-night move marathons, but something bigger. Brighter. Shared.
She wore a grey hoodie with a navy, stitched number 11 on the front. Her injured leg laid stretched out along the bed, propped up on a throw pillow, the band still tight around her knee.
She was talking fast, using her hands too much even for her, knocking over a nearly empty cup and laughing even harder when someone - Maddie, you thought - caught it mid-fall.
You stood there for a moment, unmoving.
And despite the surprise, despite the sharp tug of something that felt a little like betrayal, warmth spread across your chest. A stubborn kind of love - sisterly love. Because no matter how much must have shifted since last week, sadly without your contribution, there she was - your sister, your Celine - beaming.
Actually, genuinely beaming.
It was too loud for them to hear the door open or to notice you stepping in. No one looked up.
You couldn't utter a word, observing her teammates throwing popcorn into each other's mouths while one of them was story-telling your sister an incident from their practice she couldn't take part in anymore.
Not until Celine's gaze swept across the room, probably just searching for another can of beer, something she never brought when it was just the two of you.
And when her eyes met yours, something shifted.
Her smile didn't vanish, but you saw it faltering a little. Her brows pulled together, not it guilt at first, but pure confusion. As if she wanted to say, 'what you're doing here?'
"(Y/N), hey-" Celine's voice cut through the noice, sharp enough to hush the room. You watched her already pushing herself up, a small wince showing on her face as she caught the edge of the nightstand with her one hand for some balance. "I texted you."
You pushed the door wider, accidentally hitting some pairs of sneakers. Heads turned, people mumbling some hi's and hello's in surprise. A signal you probably weren't supposed to be here now.
"I-I sent a message, like, three hours ago," she rushed out, standing in one place trying not to shift her weight on her injured leg. "I thought you got it." Her voice faltered.
Without a word, your hand dipped into the bag and pulled the white cord of your power bank. Your phone screen lit up with two unread messages.
celine: the team kinda crashed in can we do our night tomorrow?
celine: snacks on me this time I'll make it up to you sis
"The team, they wanted to celebrate after the game," she stumbled over her words. "I thought we could still do something later, or tomorrow, or-"
"I didn't check my phone," you cut in before she could finish, not harsh, but too fast. You kept your gaze away from her, sweeping it quickly across the room instead.
You recognized some of the faces - Sevika with her eyes stuck on you, Maddie with a drink in her hand, a few other teammates you'd seen before, maybe one or twice at matches or in blurry Instagram posts. But it didn't stop the heat crawling on your cheeks.
"My bad. Just... habit, I guess. You know? Fridays." You shrugged.
"That's okay," Celine said, brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "We were just sitting here. Vibing and all."
You nodded once, stiff, not really looking at her.
"I'm impressed you managed to fit the whole hockey team in here," you added with a strained smile, the joke coming out flat. Your smile didn't quite land as you hoped. "I just wanted to drop some things off for you anyway. I better get go-"
But as your eyes wandered - just slightly, almost accidentally - your words chopped off mid-sentence.
Celine shifted, sensing the pause. Her mouth parted, ready to say something else, team's gazes dropped, but your eyes had already drifted past her.
And you didn't like the view.
You could have sworn, she had't been there when you first walked in. You would've noticed, right?
But now she was.
The last person you expected to be here.
The one person who shouldn't have been here.
She was slouched back in Celine's swivel chair, wearing an oversized, black gradient-dyed tee. One leg was casually hooked over the armrest, the other placed firmly on the floor. Her combat boots were barely laced. A half-finished beer can rested on her thigh, denting the fabric of her worn cargo pants.
She looked completely at ease. Her body sprawled like this was normal. Like she had a right to be there, after all of a mess she left behind.
And it seemed like no-one had questioned it.
Noone.
Your eyes burned as they locked with hers across the room - unflinching, steady. She didn't look away. Not even for a second.
What the hell?
Your mind was already racing, questions sprinting through before you could make a sense of any of it. But you said nothing, standing still with your bag half-unpacked.
You felt your throat tightened. Your heart thudded hard and uneven in your chest.
Because she wasn't just in the room. She was in your space. Taking up what should've been yours. Laughing with your sister, sitting in her chair, like she hadn't just shattered your sister's dreams about championship.
You could've swallowed the rest. The team crashing here, your sleepover for the first time being called-off and the fact you would lul yourself to sleep with scrolling instagram reels.
But Vi?
Was it even a question anymore? Apparently not.
"You can stay if you want," Celine offered, voice soft, like she was trying to break the tension. A few others chimed in. Casual hums of agreement, easy yeses. But you barely heard them. All your focus stayed locked on Vi and her tightly pressed lips.
The courage she had...
You almost scoffed.
After all of this, she could still look you straight in the eyes, flashing yours with their cool, powder blue hue.
It couldn't piss you off more.
You break the eye-contact first, turning your head sharply back to your sister. "I don't want to interrupt."
"It's fine, the girls wouldn't mind," Celine added quickly, nodding toward the group like backup in this situation would help.
You reached into your bag instead. "I brought you some painkillers," you said, your tone clipped.
"Oh! Thank, sis, you're sweet." Celine flashed you that same easy smile she always used when trying to lighten the mood. She plucked the packet from your hand. "Vi got it covered earlier, but it's good to have extra now."
Of course she did.
You bit down on the instinct to roll your eyes, hard. Becuase you knew what this was - Celine softening Vi's edges.
But you weren't going to fall for it.
Because Vi Lanes wasn’t innocent.
She was guilty.
And your sister? She didn't seem to care.
"So... you're staying, right? And I won't have to beg you?" Celine asked gently, guilt tugging at her face. "Just for tonight? I'll kick everyone out if you want."
"Hey!"
"That's rude, Celine."
"We are still your team, you know."
Your eyes dropped with a sigh.
"I'll crash here," you mutter, tossing your bag to the side and slipping off your coat. "Floor's fine."
"Yas!"
"When was the last time we saw Celine's baby sister?"
"About time!"
The room responded with a cheer, but you couldn't join in. You didn't want to be here, not with her in the same room.
It felt suffocating, and unfair, and... totally wrong. But you weren't immune to your sister's pleads. You were weak as hell.
Still, you stepped around the stretched-out legs, avoiding half-empty cans and crumpled candy wrappers scattered across the floor. You waited until your sister eased herself back onto the bed, helping her prop up her injured leg like you'd done hundred times before. Then, you sat down beneath her, your back touching the bed frame.
"Haven't seen you for a while," Sevika said, when you made yourself comfortable. The corner of her lips curled as she lifted her beer, free hand hanging on her knee. "Thought we lost you to that fancy engineering program."
Maddie, sitting beside her, popped another candy into her mouth. "Or someone," she suggested with a mischievous grin, chewing slowly a taffy.
You hummed with a soft, curve line on your lips. "Close, but no," you replied, feeling your sister fingers playing with your bun. "Just stuck with projects. You athletes get treated differently here in Piltover."
"How?" Sevika leaned forward to grasp a handful of crisps, while she was dealing the cards. "Must have missed this part, 'cause I'm sure as hell I don't feel it."
You counted off on your fingers. "Extra practice time, leniency with deadlines, bonus points for scholarships, sleeping during lectures, bigger portions of food-"
Before you could finish, "Hey, hey, hey. You say that like it's our fault we're good."
You turned head, your attention drawn now to a girl you thought you knew from somewhere. A small, heart-shaped face framed by a voluminous, medium-length bob that was a striking mix of light blonde fading into black at the ends. Quiet heavy replication of someone, you thought.
"Kind of is," you said, your voice high-pitch amused, yet still a little taken aback by girl's confidence who was leaning casually on a puffy chair.
Does all hockey players have to be that cocky?
You felt a move behind you as Celine pushed herself upright, bracing on her elbow. "Right," she said with a little laugh. "I forgot you two haven't met yet." She gestured with a tilt of her head. "This is Olive," Celine continued, her tone bright. “Our newest addition to the team.”
Olive? That name ringed a bell. And you could swear that face felt familiar. Tagged photos on Instagram? Maybe.
"She's good," Celine added, leaning back just enough to nudge your side playfully. "For a freshman, of course. But don't heap on the compliment too much. We haven't test her yet, we're scared she will sit on her butt if it's too much."
Assuming from new recruit's expression, she was far from being a shy one.
Celine's hand was placed on your arm, squeezing gently as she leaned in from behind to wrap the other around your neck. "And this is my little sis, (Y/N)," she hugged you. "My personal nurse. She's the best."
You offered Olive a polite, but tense smile, while she just offered out a soft laugh, tilting her head with an ease.
"That's cool," she said, brushing a loose strand of her two-toned hair behind her ear. "I always wanted a sister, but all I got is an older brother. Total pain in the ass. He already graduated, thank god."
She leaned closer over the half-empty packs of cookies, extending a hand toward you. Friendly. Open. Too casual.
"I'm Olive," she said with a grin. "I play your sister's position now, you know, number twenty."
Your stomach dropped.
That was new.
Your eyes darted back to Celine, silently asking the question, but she avoided you, sticking her gaze into her can, while her hand nervously kept caressing your hair.
She gave up her number for some kind of freshman?
You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing out your name quietly. "That's cool." You shook her hand briefly.
"So, how's freshman year treating you?" Sevika asked, changing the subject..
"Better than some of us, I'd say." You didn't even look up as you said it, voice flat, the insult tucked in , like you couldn't help yourself to bite on that one.
The air stalled for a moment, the growing tension stealing oxygen.
You could feel Vi's eyes on you, but you pushed the feeling away. Celine's hand stilled in your hair, sensing the shift.
"I'm glad," Sevika said slowly, arching a brow in amusement. "Celine thought Piltover would chew you up and then spit you." She chuckled, the rest joining in.
"I can still walk, so that's a good sign, don't you think?"
The tallest girl smirked, her eyes darting between you and Vi, like she was watching a tennis game.
Vi's eyes didn’t shift. If anything, they sharpened. Her body didn't move, but you could tell her shoulders went tight under her tee.
Beside you, Celine gently brushed the back of your head, like she was telling you -enough. Like she knew exactly where this was headed, and how hard it would be to steer away.
"Must be nice," Vi finally said, her voice lower now.
Vi's eyes glanced over you, reading Celina's face which must have gone with something like 'don't even start', but Vi never stopped. She always pushed further.
You looked up again, slower this time. She was sitting back in her chair, one elbow hooked lazily over the edge. Observing you.
It was like she was waiting for you to say more. Or snap. React. Anyhow.
"Hey there," she added, and the edge of a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, not quite mocking, not quite kind. Just... there.
"Hi."
You grabbed a handful of Maddie's crisps, crunching down just to fill the silence.
"So where are we going with our girl's night?" Celine crushed the empty ca in her hand.
"Is it what we call it now?" Sevika murmured focusing on her cards. "Girl's night? I thought we were going out."
"Change of plans," your sister shrugged, some disappointed moans came to your ears. Olive's especially.
"Why?" you turned your head to face her.
Celine glanced sideways at you with a tight-lipped smile. "Because we're having a girls' night,' she said, like it was that simple. 'Like I promised you."
You let out a breath, not quite a laugh. "No, you didn't," you said, voice low, firm. "We're not doing that. I told you I was going back. I only came to drop off your stuff."
Her eyes caught yours, and in that second, it was clear she knew. Knew you weren't being honest.
But she let it go.
"Well then," she said, tone shifting playfully, "you're coming with us."
You blinked. "What?" Your frown deepened. "When did I sign up for this?"
"The moment you stayed," she said, a hint of mischief dancing at the edge of her mouth. "As your older sister, it's my duty to help you tick things off your uni-bucket list."
"She wants to save you from being a loser," Maddie said, barely looking up as she placed her next card.
"Hey! That's not what I meant" Celine protested with a small laugh, swatting at Maddie's shoulder.
Your eyes dropped to your own clothes.
"I'll need to change," you murmured, suddenly feeling like a ghost among them. "I'm not walking around in pajamas." You hoped your current state would save you, but your sister seemed to always have the solution to your problems.
"You can borrow something mine."
"Shit," you muttered, arms twisted awkwardly behind your back as you tried to fix the top.
You glanced at the mirror one last time. The tube top clung tight around your waist, but the laced-up back and the chest area was another story. You pulled it as high as you could.
"Cel, can you help me out?" You called, pressing the material close to your skin. "I need a second pair of hands."
The cool light hummed overhead, making your skin look paler than it really was. You'd already swept on a few layers of mascara, black and long lashes giving you that false sense of confidence and your now fully dry hair was brushed few times with just your fingers..
"Cel?" You poked your head out from behind the bathroom door. "You there?"
No answer. The dorm was empty.
You stepped out of the tiny bathroom, the chill slipping under your not-properly-fastened top. Your bag still lay slouched against the wall. You dug into it blindly, pulling your phone free from the power bank. You grabbed your coat and tucked the phone into its inner pocket as you opened the door-
And nearly collied with Sevika. She leans against the wall outside, like she'd been there for a while. Her eyes flicked to you, a cigarette between her lips, unlit.
"I don't have a lighter, just saying. I don't smoke, remember?"
Sevika snorts. "Don't worry. I'm always prepared. Got a few in my pocket."
"Where's Celine?" you asked, pulling the door shut behind you.
"With Vi," she said, voice careful. Then she tossed a set of keys towards you. "Some of them bailed."
You caught them with both hands, charms clinking. You recognized the little rubber pig hanging between other random keychains.
"They went to grab some beer," Sevika added.
"Huh, really," you muttered, fitting the right key into the lock. It clicked shut. "I thought tons of cans already on the floor were enough for tonight."
"It was just a warm-up." She shrugs. "You know us."
You both started walking, the air between you filled with quiet footsteps. As you turned the corner towards the stairs, you spoke.
"So, Piltover Enforces won? Again."
She exhaled through her nose. No smoke, not yet. The dorm's some detectors were running perfectly, something Sevika'd checked once back late October, when you were both on the way to Celine's room after she caught you after lectures.
"You'd know that if you actually watched," her voice lacked malice, just pure teasing.
You smirked. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot it was mandatory to suffer sixty minutes straight of puck-chasing just to be in your good graces."
"It was a good game," she muttered as she pushed the exit doors.
"Who cried first? Maddie or the coach?"
"Maddie nearly decked someone in celebration. You missed quality chaos," Sevika said, finally flicking open one of her many lighters. The flame flared, then settled as she lit her cigarette. She took a drag. "I think our coach cracked first. If we're counting the benches too, Celine won."
You raised your eyebrows. "She's still coming?"
"Yeah," Sevika replied, flicking ash off the end of her cigarette. "Every game, if she doesn't have rehab. Last week she just stood up too fast, forgetting about her stupid knee, and almost crashed into the boards."
"She always hated sting still during games, even if she got benched. Used to yell at the refs loud than the coach."You blinked. Slowly. "She didn't tell me."
She glanced at you sideways, something unreadable in her face. "Figured she had."
"No." You stuffed your hands deeper into your coat pocket. "Turns out Celine doesn't tell me a lot of things."
Sevika didn't say anything right away. She just took another drag, her eyes fixed somewhere in the distance.
"She probably thinks she's doing the whole thing right."
"What thing?" You shake your head, passing the gate the lights from the nearby shop lighting in your eyes. "Sneaking behind my back with Violet?"
Her name on your tongue stinged. Felt wrong.
"I wanted to say 'trying not to hurt your feelings", but I guess that's the same." Sevika lexhaled a slow, curling plume of smoke that vanished into the cold air. Her eyes flicked toward you. "You still mad, huh?"
You met her gaze for a moment, then looked away, the streetlights casting shadows across snowed pavement. "And what do you think?"
"Thought so." She let out a low hum with another flick of her wrist to get rid of the ash. "About that game-"
"Please, Sev, don't," you cut in, voice was firm, but soft enough not to come up as harsh.
She snapped her mouth shut and nodded, already pulling out another cigarette from the pack. "Got it." She nods, then lits it with a quick strike. "You want some?" She held out ther half-burnt cigarette, the smoke trailing from its tip. "I know you've been trying to be a good freshman and all, but..."
Without thinking, you took it, the paper crinkled softly between your fingers.
"In case you forget what to do with that..." she said, smirking around her own cigarette. "Just inhale."
"You let out a quiet chuckle. "Shut up, Sev. I know how to smoke." You lifted the cigarette to your lips. "You're the one to teach me that, remember?"
"Right, and got a lecture from Celina." "You inhaled slow and shallow, the smoke burning slightly at the back of your throat before you exhaled it into the air.
It wasn't graceful, but not your first time either.
"You still cough like a freshman," Sevika added with a sideways glance.
"I am a freshman."
"Right." She huffed a small laugh, the smoke curling around her cheeks. "We missed you, you know."
Your fingers twitched slightly against the cig, tightening. The warmth of it had turned bitter in your mouth. You looked up at her - she stood a head taller at least - but she wasn't looking at you when she said it. Just staring out ahead, like she didn't want you to know it came from her.
You bit the inside of your cheek, the taste of smoke lingering on your tongue.
"Juniors and senior don't hang out with freshmen," you mutter. "That's an unspoken rule."
"Fuck rules. You're Celine's. That's different."
"I know my place, Sev." You shrugged, trying to play it off. Took another drag, slower this time. "Besides... I just want to figure something-anything-on my own."
"So you're not running from Vi?"
"No. I am not running from Violet."
"Then why aren't you coming to the games anymore?"
Sev was braver than your older sister, that's for sure. Maybe becuase she was one year older or just didn't care what anyone would think of her.
"I told you. Trying to figure me out, what I like without all of this." It wasn't exactly a lie. "And I've never been into hockey that much. I just went becuase Celine played, now she doesn't so... Guess it's the end of the story."
"And when she's done with her rehab?" Sevika asked. "Comes back to training?"
"I don't know. It'll be future-me's problem." A quiet, almost lighthearted chuckle escaped your lips. "That was deep, huh?"
"Yeah," she smirked. "Didn't know freshmen were already doing the philosophy program. I didn't get that till sophomore year."
You rolled your eyes, the tension in your chest eased just a little. "Guess, I'm ahead of my time."
"So," Sevika said, throwing out the butt behind her shoulder. "Since you're so into figuring yourself out... Boys or girls?"
You gave her a look. "It sounds like a gender reveal."
"Just asking."
You narrowed your eyes. "And who sent you?"
"Cel," she admitted without putting up a fight. "Said something about you texting some guy from second year, but she can't believe that."
You scoffed. "I know she's got a messed-up knee, but her tongue works just fine. She could've asked herself." You hummed to yourself, lips twisting. "Did she pay you?"
"Two packs. Real premium shit." Sevika flashed you a smug grin as the tapped the box with her fingers. "Nicotine is as expensive as information these days."
You raised an eyebrow. "And you sold me out that cheap?"
Sevika shrugged, tucking the box back into her pocket. "What can I say? She caught me between lectures and nicotine withdrawal. I was already showing symptoms. She knew I was going to say yes when she was waving with those in front of my nose."
The market was only a few steps away now. Through the wide front window, you spotted Celine, Maddie, and Olive (a girl from your year who got into a first squad, after your sister's season ended) near the register, one of them paying, while Vi grabbed two six-packs of beer by the plastic rings like they weigh nothing. She had a beanie pulled low over her head, but a flash of pink hair still peeked out beneath it.
You waited outside, hands buried in your coat pockets, trying not to shiver. The thin jacket and shoulder less top were a poor choice for the winter night - not that you had much of a choice. It was one of Celine's, ordered in the wrong, smaller size. Her chest would fill it out better. Yours... not so much.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, observing your sister limping. The rest of the girls slowed down to match her footwork as they came out of the shop.
"These jeans look amazing on you, you should keep them," Celine called out as she spotted you, standing next to Sevika.
She approached, sliding an arm around your shoulder with practiced ease. You caught her without thinking, curling your own arm around her back to brace her wobbling frame. She leaned into the support like it was second nature.
You rolled your eyes. "I'm wearing a long coat right now, how do you even know?"
Celine glanced down at the straight-leg jeans peeking out just above your borrowed boots. "The length is perfect."
"And the top is slipping down."
"Provocative."
"Not exactly my intention. Should've gone back to my room, get something what would actually fit," you muttered, adjusting to keep her upright. "I don't think it's a good idea. You're heavy."
"Deal with it," she said breezily, hair falling into her eyes as she smirked. "It's the breasts."
"You're already drunk."
"Just tipsy," she sniffed you. "Did you smoke?"
"Maybe," you shrugged. "Next time bribe Sevika with something healthier than packs of cigarettes. She likes to share."
You heard a laugh from behind, Sevika following you whatever you were going, but Celine just tilted her head like she was waiting for the answer.
You sigh, rolling your eyes. "Both. I think."
"I knew it!" She hissed to herself in victory. "I could feel it in the air."
"If you knew it, you wouldn't have to trade with camels." Sevika added taking another cigarette.
"You've got a point," she murmured, but then she said to you. "You shouldn't smoke. You'll turn into Sevika."
"I smoked you drank, and we are both adults, remember?" you say, following Olive and Maddie leading the group.
"Yeah, but I'm like adultier adult."
"Where are we going by the way?" you ask.
"A pub," Maddie turned her head over her shoulder.
"With six-packs of beer?" You raided one eyebrow.
"To prep up. Besides drinks are expensive." Olive, the one who you never had the opportunity to talk to spoke. "Vi teaches us things." And break some too, but whatever, right?
"Only fun stuff." Vi throw casually, checking her phone with one pack in her hand, Sevika's got the other.
You stuck your gaze into Olive's back. Her hair bounced with each step - chin-length, sharp-edged black ends, as if she was walking straight out from movie. It suited her, you had to admit that, but you couldn't shake off the feeling the hairstyle was familiar.
"I think Olive has a crush on Vi," Celine said, sibling's telepathy hitting, loud enough to make Olive shrink and hold her head straight, not dearing to look back.
Yeah, that would make sense.
"She dyed her hair after she assisted Vi to strike. We won that time," Cel whispered to your ear, gossiping began.
"I think it's cute, though. A little bit of try-hard, but... cute freshman vibes falling in love and all. Like she's always the first to skate to Vi for a high-five every time they score."
"I wonder, how do you know all of that?" You strike, you gaze never meeting hers.
Celine had gone quiet, before she spoke. "Clips. I've seen clips."
Right.
You fought the urge to snort or roll your eyes, but instead, you held still.
If it wasn't for Sevika, you would have bought this whole act.
You really wanted her to tell you that to your face. And seeing her lying to you? Why would her? You've already seen Vi in her room, not so eagerly agree to going out just for her and now going out to the pub and still she couldn't tell you the simplest fact you would at some point figure it out yourself.
You let that slide. For now.
You helped Celine ease her weight against the brick wall. The group had paused in a narrow alleyway just around the corner from the pub. You could hear the music buzzing lowly in the distance.
"Okay, let's prep up," Sevika announced, crouching beside Vi as they started pulling bottles from plastic bags.
You hovered quietly, arms crossed as Olive stepped forward, already reaching for two beers. Maddie stood behind her, waiting for her turn. Olive opened one bottle with a small, magnet-opener she pulled from her jacket pocket.
"Two for one," she chirped, cracking the lid with ease.
Celine got her drinks first, now both in her hands. You stepped forward next, gaze fixed downward, ignoring how close Vi crouched in front of you. Her finger brushed the glass as she handed you the last two bottles, and still, you didn't meet her eyes.
"Want me open it for you?"
"No."
"Can we swap?" Olive asked, tilting her head slightly as you turned around from Vi. "I've got cherry. You want it?"
"She can handle a stronger beer, Olive," Sevika cut in with a flat tone, rolling her eyes. She held out a mango-flavored one and something darker. "You're the same age."
"I guess, just wanted to be friendly" she shrugged, offering you a smile. "Plus, you're the ones who keep walking on eggshells around her. Thought it's my job too."
You blinked. "Excuse me?"
Your fingers curled tight around the bottle. The glass felt cool in your grip. Your jaw tightened with the buzzing heat crawling under your skin.
What it was supposed to mean?
She took a sip. "Nothing. Just feel the vibe here."
"Yeah, whatever," you mutter, almost snapping the cherry beer from her hand and pushing stout into hers. "You can have it."
You decided to brush the comments off, trying to enjoy the night was already hard with Vi sipping her beer behind you.
Everyone chugged their drinks and throw the glass to the containers before heading straight to the pub.
Once you passed by the bar section, you shrugged off your coat, heat rising to your cheeks. The alcohol was starting to settle down, your muscles relaxing. You adjusted your top, tugging it into place as your fingers smoothed out invisible wrinkles.
Celine's eyes flicked over you, grinning. "Now that's gorgeous, sis," she said, looking you up and down with a little, tipsy whistle.
"Thanks," you murmured.
"Let's grab the couch," she chirped, arm looping over your shoulders.
"Is it even free?" Olive's voice cut in.
You couldn't help, but ask yourself. Were they coming here often now? The couch was shaped like a big "U,", worn at the edges, like generations of students had claimed it over the years. The others piled in first, talking over each other as they slid into place. You ended up last, taking the open edge beside your sister.
Across from you, Vi dropped down comfortably, Olive pressed close beside her, their shoulders brushing like it wasn't the first time they all cramped in that little space.
"So what are we getting? Tequila? Classic?" Maddie asked, flipping open the drink menu.
"Don't let them bully you into that," Cel joked, bumping her knee against yours.
"Who's bullying?" Sevika chimed in, raising a brow with mock offense.
Laughter stirred again, low and easy. It felt like everything fell into place at once, at least on the surface. Your sister leaned back, launching into. story about how ridiculous they looked in the new team jerseys last game, how the first period had been a complete disaster.
Drinks appeared in front of you.
You were meant to just listen to them, sit there for maybe an hour or two and then make an excuse and go to your dorm.
Olive took a sip of her mojito as she glanced over you. "Glad you came tonight," she said, glancing over with a crooked smile. "II wasn't sure you'd actually show, and I really wanted to meet you."
You blinked at her. "Why?"
"I dunno." She shrugged. "It's kind of funny... when I first joined the squad, I didn't really know what I was stepping into."
"I mean, every team has a bit of leftover drama, right?" she went on, totally unaware. "And I knew someone got injured before I joined," your fingers clutched around your glass, "but I didn't really put it together until, like, Celine told me you were her sister."
Your eyes drifted toward Celine, who twisted uncomfortable in her sit next to you. "And I didn't know ours came with a highlight reel" Olive continued.
Your head tilted slightly. "Highlight reel?"
"I mean, someone showed me the clip-of the fall. From the match. I didn't know that was Vi until someone said, and then I was like-oh. Oh."
"Olive-"
"She used to joke about you being her bodyguard," Olive added with a small laugh, ignoring Vi's warning voice. "How did she say that then? Guard dog? Like, 'don't mess with me, my sister will bite.' I didn't get it at that time."
Your gaze started to flick over the squad's faces. No-one laughed. Guard dog? You heart sinked, your courage to look at Celine suddenly diminished.
"Anyway..." she cleared her throat. "It's nice that you're hear. I mean, it feels like maybe everything's... settled now? Like you and Vi figured stuff out? I know it's none of my business and all but... It's nice."
You and Vi? Figured stuff out? You wanted to laugh in her face.
"Yeah, right... We can put it that way," you coughed, not knowing what irritated you more. Olive's talk, Cel's lies, your top sliding every moment you moved your hands or Vi siting in front of you. The whole color palette to choose from. "Excuse me, I need to use the restroom. You can order another drink for me. Whatever you're having."
You stood up heading to the doors at the end of the pub, your hand covering your cleavage. The restroom door swung shut behind you with thud, muffling the noise of the pub.
You let out an irritated breath and turned toward the sink. The mirror caught your reflection - flushed cheeks, furrowed brows - furious.
Not just at the top, though.
God, who designs something with strings instead of a damn zipper?
Your fingers yanked at the knots, trying to fix your back.
Olive's voice kept ringing in your head. Guard dog. Guard dog. Tossed like a joke.
Vi. Her voice sliding with familiar "hey there" like it was fine.
It wasn't fine.
Was it true? Did Celine really laugh about you like that? With them? Because sure as hell you were the only one who showed up at the rehab centre. Every. Single. Day.
And yet, she let Vi back in. Just like that.
And Olive-
Who the fuck was Olive?
Some freshman who waltzed into the team and got handed your sister's number like she'd earned that spot.
Your breath hitched. You didn't realize it had grown fast and shallow, like something was eating you from the inside.
Can I be mad? Should I be?
The fabric slipped again, and your temper snapped. "Fuck," you hissed, teeth clenched.
"Do you need help?" Vi's voice cut through the quiet, amusement at the tip of her tongue. "No, thank you," you answered coldly, not even sparing her a glance. Your hands were already busy, fighting with the thin strings of your top. The lacy open back, while stunning in theory, was making you feel exposed. You were practically bare from the waist up.
You huffed in frustration. Behind you, in the mirror, Vi stood leaning agaist the tiled wall. Arms folded. Casual. Watching you struggle as if for fun.
Must have followed you, but her presence was throwing you off balance even more.
Your fingers trembled with annoyance. "For fuck's sake," you hissed under your breath. "Can't you just go out?"
"It's a public bathroom," she said with a roll of her eyes, shifting her weight. "I'm allowed to exist."
You didn't even turn to face her. "Then exist somewhere else."
"Just let me help you."
"I said no."
"Childish."
Your head whipped around. "What did you say, Lanes?"
She didn't flinch. "I'm sure you heard me."
"And I'm sure you're finished, so go back to the table."
Vi pushed off the wall slowly, taking a step forward. "And let you walk out there with your boobs on display? I wish. But not today, since we already figured our matters out, remember?"
"I'll just call Celine," you gritted through your teeth.
"Wow," she scoffed. "You really are childish."
You gripped the edge of the sink harder, leaving your top alone as she started walking in your direction. Her heavy boots echoed against the tile.
"What are you doing?" you asked sharply, eyes narrowing.
"Fixing a disaster in progress," she said simply. "Turn around."
"No. Back off."
"Jesus Christ." She ran a hand through her pink hair, exasperated. "I really, really don't want to see your tits tonight, so turn around and let me lace it before you flash half the pub."
Her tone was so deadpan it knocked the wind right out of you.
You turned stiffly, heart hammering, mouth a thin line of resentment.
She stood behind you, legs parted wide.
"Were you watching me?"
Her fingers were on your back before you could say another word. She worked quickly, tugging the satin cords into a tighter, neater crisscross. The cold brush of her fingertips against your bare spine made you forget how to breathe. It wasn't even intentional. It was clumsy and quick and a little rough, but the contact still made your skin tickle.
You stood frozen, tension buzzing beneath your skin as she secured the final loop. You could feel the difference instantly. The fabric settled snugly over your chest, secure and unmoving. No threat of slipping now.
"There," she muttered, stepping back.
She shoved her hands into her pockets and gave you a final, neutral glance and then turned on her heel and walked straight out the door without another word.
You stared at yourself in the mirror, your heart bumping.
The top on you looked now perfect. You looked…fine.
But you felt anything but fine.
Your jaw tightened even harder. You pursed your lips to keep them from trembling, though whether from embarrassment, frustration, or something else entirely, you couldn't tell.
You squared your shoulders.
If any of them thought you'll fall for any of this shit she was giving to you. Vi was wrong. Celine was wrong. They were wrong.
When you came back, you didn't say a word. No glance at them. No effort to slide back into your seat. You just reached for your drink and knocked it back in one go. The sharp taste scorched down your throat, your hand instinctively rising to rub your lips, as if you could wipe away the heat or maybe the ache brewing in your chest.
You had to get out of here.
"I'll send you the money," you muttered, voice flat, eyes avoiding everyone. You set the glass down hard, loud enough to slice through the low hum of conversation and laughter. Heads turned. You didn't care.
It was a bad idea to come here.
"(Y/N), wait-" Celine pushed up from her chair too fast.
She dropped back into her seat, one hand flying to grip her knee like it had betrayed her. Your heart twisted, but you were already halfway toward the exit. The cold air hit you as you put on your coat.
Someone's following you. Great. You hastened your steps.
"Come on, (Y/N). She can't even run after you," Vi called out, easily catching up with you, her voice loud enough. "So stop."
You did. Hard. You turned so fast she nearly collided with you. The rage finally foud its let-up.
"And whose fault is that, huh?" Your voice came out sharper than you expected. Your face was close to hers now. Too close, but you didn't back down. You were fuming.
Vi held your gaze, her hands buried in her jacket pockets, jaw clenched tight, apparently fed up with your behavior.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"This." You threw your arms out wide, gesturing around like the weight of everything that had happened was something she could physically see. "This is ridiculous."
Vi rolled her eyes, but you didn't miss the way her shoulders tensed.
"And what we are supposed to do? What am I supposed to do with that, huh?" she shot back. "You want me to grovel? Cry? Just disappear?"
"Yeah, I want you gone," you snapped. "I don't want to see you around my sister. Not after what you've done. Don't you get that?"
For a second, neither of you moved. Your fronts were nearly touching now. You could feel the heat radiating off her, like she was burning up with the same frustration as you, only trying harder to mask it.
"Thank God you're not the one who gets to decide that," she muttered.
It was a low blow, and it landed. You could practically hear the blood rushing in your ears.
Your chest rose and fell faster now, your hands curling into fists at your sides. You tilted your chin up, met her eyes head-on. Her face was unreadable, stone-still except for the tight line of her lips, and something unreadable flickering behind her powder blue gaze.
And then she said it.
"Pick up your phone."
"What?"
"Pick. Up. Your damn phone," she repeated, her tone biting. Her arms folded again, posture tilting just a little like she'd already won something you hadn't even realized was a game.
It buzzed in your pocket then. You hadn't even felt it until she said it.
You looked at the screen.
Mavis. Your roommate.
"Hello?" You picked up, arms close to your body as you started to listen to her voice full of panic. The words crumbled, barely making any sense, but you got the main idea fast. "No way," you'd pinched the bridge of your nose, before you ended the phone call.
"Where are you going?" You heard behind you.
You barely spared her a glance over your shoulder. It wasn't her business anyway.
── summary: Watching your older sister lose the game is hard. Watching her chance to take part in the championships shatter into pieces after a body-crash on ice. Heartbreaking. But here's the worst part: Vi Lanes, the one who took her out, still sticks around, both of them laughing like no one's bones ever cracked. Your sister has moved on, but you find yourself stuck on the front bench, replaying that fall on loop. No matter how hard you try, you can't erase that accident from your head and Vi sleeping just a few feet away isn't helping.
I can't believe my first chapter is already over 4.2k words and still going strong! This is the longest thing I've ever written and I'm loving every moment of it! 😌💖
Here's a little sneak peek:
🎀 enemies to lovers, one-sided (?) hate
🎀 softie!Sevika watching out for you
🎀 little sister stepping into protective mode
🎀 grudge-holding
🎀 a lacy top that's too big, too pretty and not meant to make you feel this exposed
I think the first chapter will have at least 6k words so big read coming your way!
Hope you'll like it 🎀
If you want to read "Beds and Rinks" start here! 🩷
── pairing: roommate! hockeyplayer! vi x reader
── tropes: friends to enemies -> enemies to lovers, forced proximity, roommates, sports, slow burn, sibling's teammate
── summary: Watching your older sister lose the game is hard. Watching her chance to take part in the championships shatter into pieces after a body-crash on ice. Heartbreaking. But here's the worst part: Vi Lanes, the one who took her out, still sticks around, both of them laughing like no one's bones ever cracked. Your sister has moved on, but you find yourself stuck on the front bench, replaying that fall on loop. No matter how hard you try, you can't erase that accident from your head and Vi sleeping just a few feet away isn't helping.
based on this request 🩵
chapter 01. sleepover gone over
chapter 02. cooler than me
chapter 03. soaked socks and shared rooms (soon!)
── pairing: hockeyplayer! vi x nerdy! radio host! reader
── tropes: stranger to lovers, college, secret identity, late night radio vibes
── summary: You're done being alone most of the time. That's where the old, dusty mic in a forgotten corner of campus comes in handy, letting you talk to people without anyone really knowing who you are. You talk about music, the terrible food at the canteen, the chaos of collage life, and even the hockey team everyone obsess over... but never about yourself. Vi, captain of the hockey team, wasn't supposed to care. She already carries enough; the weight of expectations, constant comparisons to the legendary team that came before her, and the pressure to lead while still trying to find herself off and on the ice. But your voice? This quiet, anonymous presence makes her feel seen. Not directly, not openly, but in a way that shakes something inside her.
── chapter 02
<- previous | next ->
"Oh, now you want to work?"
Two firm smacks, more out of frustration than logic, and your control board finally sputters to life.
All the lights flicker across the console as you fixed your fingers, the sting from the punch still pulsing dull and warm across your palm.
A few wires still hang loose under the panel, curled like lazy snakes. Untangling them would cost you more than just nerves, so for months you've let them be.
You've already tried the classics; unplug, replug, beg. It's not the first time you have to choose violence, which makes you wonder how much time it has left. The answer is probably not much.
"Don't even think about shutting down on me, pretty please," you mutter sweetly, your voice dropping to the same syrupy tone your mom uses on her flowers back home. Not sure if that works on inanimate tech objects, but it doesn't hurt to try.
Your thermos thunks gently against the table as you capped it, your bitter-sweet, still-steaming coffee heating your chest. The clipboard, technically legally stolen from your journalism class, lays on the side with your glitter pen and highlighter that rolls off near the edge.
You catch it with one hand, suddenly using it to nervously tap some kind of decent rhythm.
Ekko disappeared with a mumble, "Be right back," and a sharp turn towards the Department of Science and Mechanical Engineering as you both caught a glimpse of electric-blue braids just behind the corner - something about a girl named Jinx. If that was even her real name.
You didn't ask. Just nodded with your stomach doing a flip.
Ekko is as good with showing up as with leaving and you still don't know where he draws the energy from. Kind of person who doesn't need a nap after a social meeting.
ekko: i would have walked you later to the rink but i cant right now
ekko: i will come for you after
ekko: not replying? you still in library again?
Not hard feelings, but still. Today isn't supposed to be solo and here you are bitting your inner cheek, your pens and nails.
You give the mic a tap with your knuckle, mini red light blinks awake. The soft crackle fills the small space and grounds you like always.
It takes away a small part of your stress, but it's better than nothing.
With gained confidence now, your fingers find the controls again.
Deep breath. Smile in your voice.
"Good morning, Piltover! It's me again. Your favorite radio host."
Vibration.
ekko: it's her again!!
ekko: first time she goes on air twice in a row
"This week's been a ride, hasn't it? One of those 'when life gives you lemons' moments. You know make a lemonade or something."
Another ping.
ekko: how's your question going btw?
"But no-one ever tells you what to do when lemon juice sprays straight into you eyeballs. And guys... It burns like hell. Anyway, happy Tuesday and if you detected sarcasm, your speakers are working just fine. Three more day until the weekend. Let's just survive this. Nothing more, nothing less."
A low buzz hums against the desk's scratched surface. Your phone lights up, displaying a blurry snapshot of your golden retriever with his tongue lolling, paws mid-air, chasing a tiny duck moments before you scrambled to stop him.
A message pops over your wallpaper.
ekko: hello?? fifteen minutes to the interview and youre not replying
You already know. No need for reminders. It's all that's swirling inside your head right no for the past hours.
The interview.
The questions you rehearsed in your head for two hours straight, probably just to end up reading them off the page anyway. Your eyes flicker down to the clipboard resting on the desk. Notes are neat. Painfully neat. The fear of butchering names or mixing up stats slowed your hand to a crawl.
Some questions feel solid. A few even sharp. But most? You're wincing just at the fought of these weak fillers you'd hate being asked yourself. Maybe you should cross them out.
The panic presses up in your chest again, mounting with every line your eyes scan.
ekko: i would have walked you but i cant right now
ekko: meet the coach first
ekko: he doesnt like people wandering on the rink during practice
ekko: ill come for you later good luck
I'll need more than just luck. Realization hits you.
You grab your notes in one hand, tucking the clipboard securely under your arm. With your free hand, you fumble for the small, black recorder, fingers brushing the cool metal just as you reach for your termos. You almost forget your lucky, yellow highlighter. Probably it won't help today.
Juggling these things feels like a circus act, but you manage to clasp them tight enough to keep from dropping anything.
You push the doors with your side and then close them with your knee. Lessons are over, the hallways are mostly empty, students rushing back to their dorms or the college fancy parking lot. You should be going past the gate right now, then turn right and go straight to your dorms and wrap yourself with a blanket, but no.
This time you're heading straight into the rink, a place you've never set foot before.
The icy air sneak in. You left your coat back in a booth, but that's not your deepest concern right now. Cold bites at your arms, creeping under your sleeves as you climbed the stairs toward the glassy wall that frame the entrance to the two-level arena.
Your warm breath fogs into bursts, even when you'd pushed the heavy, modern doors and stepped inside.
It's no warmer here.
Rink is nothing like the comforting silence of your booth. The air is even crispier, sharper - stings your bare thighs just above where your high boots ends. You shiver, being used to stale ambience of library, thick with paper and dust. The scent of cold metal, fresh floor cleaner and heavy smell of hockey gear worn through countless games and practices makes you stop in the middle.
You hear the scrape of blades cutting the ice, mixed with shouts and clashing sticks. Practice seems to begin without a coach.
Your fingers brush cool metal railings that line the walkway to further parts of the arena. You follow them up, the sounds of your footsteps echoing into a yawing ceiling above you.
As you go, you can see how much space is taken by the ice-cold rink with navy-colored benches around it. It stretches wide, giving the players room to maneuver.
Ice shimmers beneath angled reflectors. You can't help but tilt your head up - rows of fresh seats for a better view, college flags ripple quietly and the scoreboard looms overhead.
You swallow hard, the clipboard digging into your side, the weight of your nerves heavier than the dread of upcoming midterms.
You shake yourself, pushing past the intimidating image of player seemingly born with skates on - passing, shooting, shouting. Your eyes sweep the rink, searching for the coach's office. At the far right, a narrow corridor opens into a small nook that lead into another hallway.
You spot the silver nameplaque.
Vander Warwick.
Head Coach.
You clear your throat before knocking. The door swings open soundlessly.
"Good afternoon," you begin, your confidence already diminished. "I'm here for the interview. I'm professor Heimerdinger's student."
Coach Vander glances up, his finger hovering over the keyboard of his laptop, a pause. The office around him is all about straight, sharp lines, navies and steel grey furnitures. Everything's brand new.
"Right. Heimerdinger's kid." He runs a hand through his hair and tugs his cap forward with block letters: PILTOVER COACH. "Ellie, right? You know the drill. Rink's open for you."
Your mouth opens before your brain is ready.
"Actually-uh, I'm here on Ellie's behalf," you say. It comes faster than intended, failing to match his steady tone. "If... that's okay."
His eyes lift fully from the screen, studying you a beat longer this time as if he's searching for dissimilarities between you and Ellie.
Looks like he finds them as he pushed himself back on his chair.
"That's new," he finally says, voice gruff but not unkind. "I've told her not to go rough with them. When she'll start to listen, this kid..." He sighs and starts to look for something in his drawers.
Eventually, he slides a clipboard toward you.
"Sign this-and the visitor log on the next page. Liability, rink rules, the usual. Means you won't sue me if you take a puck to the face."
...What?
"Which won't likely happen," Vander adds, like it makes it any better. "Standard precautious. Being on the rink during practice without any protectors is always a risk. Hope you know that, kid."
You bite on your lips before stepping forward. You take the black pan from him and scribble your name on the waiver. Your hair slides into your face as you lean over, trying not to smear the ink with your creamy sleeve.
"So... Ellie resigned?" Vander asks, closing his laptop with a soft clack. "Thought she liked her sports column."
"She didn't resign. She's just-sick, I think." You fumble with your clipboard, avoiding eye contact. "Professor Heimerdinger wanted the handoff to go smoothly. So... I'm here instead. I'll send her whatever I gather."
"Huh, that's a pity. I liked her. She took her job very seriously," one of his eyebrows goes up. "Well, before you start, read the rink rules. You journalists tend to charge in like you're on deadline."
That's not wrong, actually.
"And watch your teeth, by the way. That's advice, not a warning."
Great. So not only are you winging a last-minute interview with hockey team, but you're also apparently in mortal danger? How much does a dentist appointment cost right now?
"Yes, coach."
"Keep that attitude up and maye we'll recruit you," he chuckles, pushing himself up from the chair with a grunt. "Go sit over on the benches, read the code. Practice starts in five. You sure you want to wait here?" He puts on his huge coach and zip it with one fast move.
"I think I'm sure. I'll wait."
Get my head around all of it and try not to pass out in the process.
"Fine." He gathers his things and hangs a lanyard with a whistle around his neck. "Try not to distract anyone. And for the record, Ellie knew what was a fair game for publication. I hope you and your editor will be just as careful. I don't need drama in my locker room, or outside it."
Great. Well, I am the interviewer and the editor now. All in one convenient, panicking package.
Just perfect.
"Of course." You awkwardly juggle your stuff, tucking the recorder under your arm to free up your hands as he passes you printed rules.
Where are you, Ellie?
"You can go now. Good luck, kid. Write something good. I like a decent read after practice."
You give him a stiff nod. No pressure.
You mumble something resembling thanks and make your way toward the side benches.
The sharp slice of skates on the ice and the echo of shouted calls hit your ears again. You walk past the boards, the translucent wall rising between the rink and the empty stands. Dropping onto the icy bench, the cold seeps straight through your skirt to your butt.
How do you cope up with all this shit?
Your head kept down, you open the paper.
PILTOVER COLLEGE ATHETLIC DEPARTMENT
Rink Access Guidelines for Press, Guests and Affiliates
1. Do not interfere with coaching staff, players or building operations during practice or scheduled games.
2. No filming or audio recording without the express consent of the individual being recorded.
3. Respect the locker room and equipment areas considered to be private spaces.
4. Rink-side acces id granted at your own risk. The College is not liable for injuries, equipment damage, or physical contact due to stray pucks, player movement, or coaching activities.
5. Avoid flash photography and loud conversation near the rink.
Your eyes skim the list. Rule number four sticks in your mind the most.
At your own risk? I don't even want to be here.
As if the rink wants to prove a point, a loud crack of impact explodes just feet away. You jump, nearly dropping the rules, your heart pounding heavily in your chest as you whip your head up - just in time to see a blur of motion and steam where someone's slammed into the plexiwall.
Number O2. Sevika. Broad-shouldered, her one arm wrapped in that neon-reactive sleeve you've seen flashing in every reel and repost. She doesn't even glance your way, her jaw tight in focus, already skating off like it's just another Tuesday.
You blink, wide-eyed. Paper still in your hands with blood thudding in your ears.
"Get your ass here, Sevika!"
The voice slices like a blade, unmistakably done with someone's shit.
You try not to look really, your questions still needing correction, however your eyes go up anyway.
Vi. Number 09 skates toward Sevika, jaw clenched the same as her teammate's with that same coiled energy you've only ever seen in a bad footage. She flicker her stick up, pointing it at the defensive zone.
"Where's your position, huh?"
Sevika leans on her stick like she's got all the time in the world. "What's the matter, captain? Someone not listening to you for once?"
Vi's mouth tightens even more.
"Don't start."
"You started, Vi," Sevika snaps back. "Barking orders like you didn't just show up ten minutes late with your jersey half-on."
"Fully dressed or not, still left you eating ice," Vi fires, sliding a little closer.
"Back in positions. Both of you. Now."
Vander's strict voice snaps through the arena, reverberating off plexiglass as he walks out of his office. The rink falls so silent, you can hear his boots thudding against the floor as he strides closer.
"We have a guest today," his voice hit almost like a warning.
And just like that, every head turns toward you, dozens of eyes locking on you.
Exactly, what you'd been trying to avoid.
A voice from the ice, you can't place who, chimes in with a low whistle. "Someone's feeling hot, guys."
Your face burns. You immediately tug your sleeves down over your frozen hands. Instant feeling of regret not having turned back for your coat that would hide your short skirt too.
"Behave. All of you."
The grip on your clipboard feels tighter now, your body shrinking.
Just go after that puck or something.
Your fingers fumble around the edge of the rule sheet as the silence stretches out. You should have sat lower, hide behind the boards, you think, two or three scrapes of skate movement breaking the silence.
Move, please.
But your pleads are not heard.
Pink-haired captain looks at you, small smirk tugging at her lips. Then, casually, she raises her stick, resting it against her shoulder.
"Guess I'll have trouble keeping that order, coach," she says, loud enough to echo.
A few of her teammates snort under their breath. Sevika doesn't laugh, she just lets out a dry scoff, rolls her eyes and skates off, muttering something you can't really catch.
Doesn't matter, because your heart's just collapsed.
"Let's warm up." Their coach folds his arms on his chest. "Vi. Additional ten laps for your big mouth."
You jolt again, taken aback by the command.
Vi smirks to herself, fixing her gloves, almost proud of yourself.
"Don't make me double it."
You watch as Vi pushes off the ice with long, confident strides, skating past the clustered players with an effortless grace, apparently starting her routine.
Her team doesn't look surprised, just amused to her indifference, allowing her to go first to catch up with them later.
She leans into the curve, pink hair brightening the pale ice and just when she's near the bench you're sitting on, her eyes seize you up with a self-pleased hum.
"Totally worth it."
You press your knees together.
You're not going to interview her. That's not gonna happen.
You could swear your butt's frozen solid from sitting on the bench through over two-hour practice. Everyone is gone to change, so at this point, you push yourself from your sit with a wince and drift toward the wall near the locker room doors.
Not too close, taking Vander's rule number three pretty seriously.
You manage to calm down during their practice. After the first half, you actually abandon the idea of rereading your questions over and over again and observe them gliding through the glassfield.
Maybe, you'll draw something from it, you think.
Nobody since then really pay attention to your presence, which you are grateful for and nobody comment about how your eyes were following move's of certain someone.
Player 09 is immaculate. You don't have to be pro to realize that. A perfect source to gather the material from, but... There are always some buts. And, the captain of the female hockey team doesn't seem like a good starter subject for you to test your wobbly interviewing skills.
You don't think she even blinked when Sevika tried to body-crash her when she was about to take a shot.
If that's how she is on the rink, what's she like off it?
This aggressive confidence, talk and muscle.
Testing that firsthand? Yeah, no thanks.
So, when Sevika goes out first out of the locker room, her sport bag casually shoved over her shoulder, you push yourself off the wall, gripping the thermos tighter.
"Sorry - Sevika, right? I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions. Really short ones."
You try hard not to let your voice falter when she doesn't stop walking, creating a distance between you both.
"Interviewed by a mascotte? You got a death wish or something?"
"Five minutes. Please."
"It's not a playground, freshman."
You want to protest, correcting her you're sophomore, but she pulls out her phone like you're no more than an irritating background noice.
"You'll have to forgive Sevika," casual, amused voice comes again this day. "Her pride's still doing snow angels somewhere near the attack zone where she fell."
You turn just in time to see Sevika freeze mid-step. She doesn't bother looking up from her phone.
"First of all, there's no snow on the rink. Second of all-" she lifts her hand, slow and deliberate, her middle finger shows up, "go fuck yourself."
"Gladly, Sev. Gladly." She tosses a respond, not really offended.
Their exchange make you bite down on the inside of your cheek and lower your eyes, too aware of how much ignorance she fed you, as the rest of the team starts to pass by, heading out of the locker room. No one stops. Not even a glance your way. Cleats clack on the floor, laughter and tired chatter trailing behind them.
That's all for today, you say bitterly in your head.
You shift your weight and sigh.
Good job, the scholarship is yours.
You make your way toward the exit doors, ready to cut your losses.
But then her voice hooks you halfway.
"What? You've already got your answers?"
You stop, then turn slowly.
"Not quite."
Vi looks better than she does on the reels you sometimes watch after the game later at night.
Her pink hair is even more vivid up close, damp strands falling across her eyebrow, the rest pushed back. The hoodie hangs loose on her frame, shoulder broad beneath the fabric and sleeves shoved up just enough to show the defined line of her forearms, which feels to you unfairly attractive.
She stands in front of you with her arms crossed, weight shifted to one side.
Oh.
Your palms are grossly clammy. You wipe them against your skirt in a nervous loop, but the more you try to get rid of the sweat, the worse it seems to get.
She reaches out her hand, but you just lower your gaze after catching a glimpse of her powder blue eyes.
"Fuck the introduction part, huh?" she scoffs, rather amused than annoyed, and shoves her hands into the big pocket of her navy hoodie. "I'm used to journalists who at least tell me their name."
You stand there awkwardly, your fingers gripping the recorder tighter. "Uh-yeah, I'm (Y/N)."
"Vi," she gives you a small nod.
"I know- I mean, everyone knows, probably," you stumble, nerves rattling in your throat. "And I saw the back of your jersey too, so... yeah." You lick your chapped lips. "Would it be okay if I asked you a few questions? Just... a couple?"
You regret the words the second they leave your mouth and how pathetic they sound and how the silence that follows stretches tight.
Then-
She leans in, her lips almost brushing your ear, voice hushed with a playful edge and you swear you might forget how to breathe. "I'd love to, but looks like I wasn't your first choice. Don't know if I can swallow it, cupcake."
Her tone is half-joke, half-offended, and the nickname feels almost provocative - next time, choose wiser, causing you to loosen up your grip.
Your fingers lurch out in a chaotic grab, but the recorder slips through your hands, tumbling down toward the floor.
"Shit," you crouch quickly, your cheeks burning even hotter as you snatch it before it can shatter to pieces.
You straighten up, swallowing the lump in your throat, and Vi's grin only deepens.
You don't know what scares you more. The fact you almost broke an expensive device you could only afford to pay off with your scholarship money you don't have, or the way her shoulder brushed yours as she walked by.
note from Emi:
Hey my loves 💌
I hope you're doing okay! I was struggling with this chapter. characterization of Vi scared me off a little bit, didn't want to mess her up, but here it is! Still, I'd love to read a feedback from you ❤️
And, no banner since I used some of the free stock pictures but used AI to combine them and decided to take it off. Thanks for helping me rethink that. I hope I'll manage to create something different (my digital art skills suck... anyway...)
Take care 🥰
I would die if you would write hockeyplayer!roommate!Vi and reader enemies to lovers but I totally understand that you’re busy with your AMAZING series rn. If you’re ever bored or need a break, I would love to read this! ❤️
Hey, hi, hello 🌸
OMG YES! I would love to write that! Like that has my whole heart! I'm so flattered you even want to read that from me 🥹❤️
Im definitely down for it! Maybe as a fun one-shot or a short series, what do you guys think? Do you imagine all the tension shbbjss
You've officially planted the seed so better stay tuned!
