Vi is a better older sister than me because let my sister have gotten in my face talking bout some, ‘face it sis i’m a hero. I busted half of Zaun out of Stillwater while you were passed out in the bottom of a mug”…after being in there for the past eight years and being brutally beat by the officers…that fight would’ve gone so much differently
i'm sorry to ask this all of a sudden, but i'm in need of a tiny bit of help placing down a small deposit for a nice room i found! the owner has said even if it's just $50, she'll take it for now and unfortunately, i can't give that to her without it leaving me flat-broke. i also don't get paid until next week friday from work.
so if you do like my work and can spare anything (absolutely no obligation or pressure to give!!!), i'd appreciate it greatly!
Summary: AU. You've settled into your new apartment and life with your new neighbour, Vi. It's domestic bliss until you notice that something is clearly going on with Vi.
Word Count: 2k+.
A/N: This is formatted and written really weirdly so, I'm sorry if it's hard to read. Anyways, I enjoyed writing the first one so, I decided to do a second part. Honestly, in my head, this is taking place in the 2000’s.
PART ONE.
Excluding the difficulties that came with the first day and a half in your new apartment, transitioning into life in your new home had come with a surprisingly, comfortable ease after that.
A huge part of that was thanks to Vi.
During your first week of moving in, Vi found herself and her tools at your place more than her own as you settled in and discovered new faults and problems that she was more than happy to fix.
In return, you fed her and after that, the two of you found yourself falling into something of a domestic routine.
Including (but not limited to) -
Collecting each other’s mail from the mailroom:
(Angel Face: Attachment: 1 Image. 1 new message. Did you know that despite marketing their packaging as discreet, sex shops still print their website in tiny print on the label?
Bob the Builder: fckn kill me.
Angel Face: You have to show me what you got when you get home. Please and thank you!)
Carpooling where you could:
(Your keys jingle in the lock and you twist the door handle for good measure, making sure it’s locked when a low whistle comes from the end of the hallway.
Vi emerges from behind her own door, gym bag in hand.
“Cute leggings,” Vi comments with a grin, closing and locking her door behind her.
The compliment has your cheeks heating up but, you cover it with something silly.
“Thank you,” you beam and begin hitting a few poorly executed bodybuilding poses for her. “I’m glad you noticed. They’re new.”
Vi watches, amused, as you continue to muck around with the poses when her mouth suddenly goes dry when you pull your too-big-T up and over your ass and hit another pose.
She swallows thickly, eyes wide and focused on the curve of your plump backside
When you spin around, she quickly averts her gaze with a cough as you toss her your car keys.
“They’re nice,” Vi catches the keys, ducking her head to hide her coloured cheeks before mumbling. “You should definitely buy more.”
“Hm?”
“Uh- nothing-” Vi fiddles with the strap of her gym bag. “Ready to go?”)
Grocery runs together + shopping in each other’s pantries:
(“This is a lot of eggs,” Vi comments, eyeing the crate of twenty-four.
You breathe a half-laugh, “do you need eggs, Vi?”
There’s a long pause and it prompts you to turn around from your position on the couch to where a contemplative Violet stands in front of your open fridge.
“... Maybe.”
You laugh, proper, this time and it sends a kaleidoscope of butterflies through Vi; she's committed the sound to memory but still she wishes she could bottle the sound and wear it around her neck.
Vi steals a glance at you and you smile fondly at her with your head propped on the back of your couch, “take as many as you need.”)
Movie and weekly TV nights:
(“Finally! Hurry, hurry,” you usher Vi inside your apartment.
“Live rewind only goes back 30 minutes and the show started 28 ago.”
“Fuck, sorry, I didn’t realise I was that late,” Vi apologises, quickly kicking her shoes off and dropping her keys in the bowl.
The two of you settle into your usual positions on your couch, you in the corner of your L-shaped couch and Vi at the other end with her feet propped up on the ottoman.
You cast one last look between the TV and Vi, ready to hit play but you don’t because the way she sits slumped in her seat, feet on the floor, shoulders sagging and eyes glazed over doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
“Hey,” you call softly. “You okay?”
“Hm?” Vi blinks, taking a second to register your voice.
“Yeah, yeah, let's watch,” she waves off your concern with a hand in the air.
“Vi… you know we don’t always have to do these movie nights? Right? If you don’t want to… you can just tell me. I won’t be offended,” you offer her what you hoped was a comforting smile. “and I mean if something’s happened, you can talk to me… if you want .”
Vi feels her throat clog because there’s genuine concern in your eyes and how is she meant to tell you that she just got into a huge fight because she wanted, chose, to be here with you tonight.
She can't so she says-
“Just got into a disagreement with a-uh friend. It’s nothing, promise. Now hit play otherwise it’ll be you who makes us miss the first few minutes,” she finishes with a teasing grin and hoping you didn’t notice the way she stumbled over the word friend.
You did. But, you don’t say anything and, soon you forget about it all together because Tyler Lockwood just triggered his werewolf curse!!)
Taking turns to cook and having dinner together most nights - turns out neither of you knew how to cook for one person so, it was easier to just cook for both.
It’s how the two of you end up in Vi’s kitchen on a Wednesday night.
Topic of conversation: family, parents, childhood and everything in between.
You were both still learning about each other.
You learned Vi’s parents had passed away in the Zaun Revolution.
She and her sister, Powder, were adopted by her dad, Vander, who was an old friend of her parents.
They also had two brothers- Mylo & Claggor.
Vander raised them all with the help of another old friend of her parents, Silco.
You recognised both of their names.
“Wait- how do you know who they are?” Vi looks at you with curious eyes.
“Because, I’m from here? And I think I would know my cities leaders,” you say, laughing, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Wait- so you are from here?”
“Yes… have we not had this conversation before?”
"Nope," and Vi is pleased to learn that she was right about you, after all.
You were from Zaun, you just didn’t grow up in Zaun which is why she had never met you before.
Your parents were Zaunite scientists who initially worked for Former Councillor Heimerdinger at The University of Piltover but, following his retirement, they now worked for Councillor Talis and his partner, Viktor, so you had spent the majority of your life in Piltover.
Vi’s mood shifts at the mention of Jayce Talis.
“For Jayce Talis, huh?” Vi questions, casting a sideways glance at you. “He’s uh- he’s pretty close to the Kiramman’s… your family, are they um- like, close to any of them?”
Vi doesn’t know why she asks that. (She does).
But there was no taking it back now.
She shakes her head at herself and peeks at you from the corner of her eye, hoping you don’t notice the odd question or the way her hand slows on dicing the last of the vegetables.
You don’t.
Not missing a beat, you fire up her stove, place a pan on top of it and answer her question.
“With Jayce? I mean, yeah? Sort of? My parents work for him so they’ve spent a lot of their time over the years with him in the lab but, they’re way closer to Viktor. Grew up down the road from each other and all that so, he’s practically family and well… Jayce is his family. They’re kind of a package deal, so Jayce is around a lot much to the initial annoyance of my parents but they’ve learned to indulge him.”
Finishing up with the vegetables, Vi turns to face you, leaning against the counter with her arms folded across her chest.
Your eyes can’t help but stray for a brief moment to look at the swell of muscles in her arms that flex from the movement.
“Learned to indulge him?”
“Yeah… I mean- he means well and he’s really nice but he’s still… unlearning some of his prejudicial misconceptions about Zaun and her people but... he's getting there,” you breathe a short, wry laugh. “Slowly but surely.”
Your words hit a little too close to home for Vi and she clears her throat uncomfortably, pushing off the counter to start cleaning the bench so she can distract herself while you stand over the stove and cook.
“And as for the Kiramann’s, I mean I went to school with Councillor Cassandra’s daughter, Caitlyn but-”
Vi drops the dish in her hand and it lands in the sink with a loud clang!
The sound makes you jump and you ask her if everything’s okay-
“Yeah, yeah, all good,” Vi wipes a sweaty hand across the back of her trackies with a nervous chuckle. “Just a slip of the hand- sorry, why are we talking about Caitlyn Kiramann?”
Vi tries not to sound defensive, tries her best to sound casual but it comes out as anything but, her voice short and clipped.
You pause for a moment - was she... annoyed with you? - then breathe a sigh of disbelief, confused by the sudden whiplash-
“Vi… you asked me about the Kiramann’s,” you remind her. “I was just answering your question.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, you did-” you retort, feeling a little exasperated and desperate for answers because there had been a steady build up of- this.
Whatever the hell this was.
After that night when she showed up late to your place, you noticed that something was off.
She seemed to be eating less, drinking more on the weekends and sleeping even less.
Then there were the bruises and scuffs that were making more frequent appearances across her face and all over her body.
You were pretty certain those weren’t coming from the sparring matches she participated in, in the gym as she so claimed.
Despite all of that however, the routine the two of you had fallen into hadn’t changed- Vi was still showing up for you.
But... even you could see that it was becoming exhaustive for her, light snores more frequently leaving her lips from where she’d laid her head on your lap only minutes into whatever tv show or movie the two of you had started but, every time you offered to cancel, she’d flat out refuse.
“Me? Cancel?” she’d scoff. “And miss my favourite part of the day? Yeah, right, angel face. Not getting rid of me that easily”
You had made it a point not to comment because you weren’t sure how’d she react if you began to more forcefully pry into her life considering she had already shut down your several attempts to check in with her before.
But, this time you don’t give her a pass.
“Vi, are you sure everything’s okay? I just feel like you’ve been really off lately and you keep saying you’re fine but, you’re clearly not. You can talk to m-”
“I said I’m fine!” Vi snaps and you freeze.
The tension is palpable and hangs suffocatingly between the two of you.
Neither of you move.
Neither of you say anything.
Save for the water dripping from the kitchen faucet and the food sizzling on the stove, there is nothing but silence.
Vi stares at you wide-eyed and caught off guard by her own outburst and you blink back at her in surprise.
You’re the first one to make a move- releasing a slow, controlled breath.
“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” you utter, removing the kitchen towel from your shoulder.
Your words breathe life back into Vi and colours her face with a molotov cocktail of emotions before she settles on a regretful grimace.
“Shit- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“I think you’ve had a long week, Violet,” you interrupt her apology and turn the stove off. “In fact, I think you’ve had a long couple of weeks and if you’re not going to let me in on your problems then maybe you should just leave me out of it.”
With that, you leave without sparing her a backward glance.
-
Everything would make sense the following Monday however, after a weekend spent at your parents in Piltover.
You would learn exactly what the problem had been or, who the problem had been, you should say.
You and Vi had never really discussed each other’s love lives but you figured she was clearly fucking someone/s (the sex shop order was a strap harness) and it led you to make assumptions about her.
Assumptions that were inclusive of:
1. Vi didn’t have one (a love life) - not in a monogamous type way at least - because she never mentioned a girlfriend (why would she omit that, right?) and never brought anyone over.
2. Vi was a player, a serial sleep-arounder, ladykiller, skirt chaser, philanderer- whatever the hell people called it nowadays.
The point was, you found it hard to believe that someone as hot and kind and charming and smart and funny as Vi wasn’t getting laid and frequently - if she wasn't in a relationship then she had to be pulling an insane amount of pussy.
But, as it turned out, both your assumptions about Vi had been very wrong.
No, she had a third, more terrible thing going on…
An on-again, off-again girlfriend.
-
“Why are we talking about Caitlyn Kiramann, huh?” you cock your head at Vi with a raised brow from the bottom of the steps.
-
All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.
y’all im mad about the bummy ass men invading lesbian spaces and shit bBut .. Please .. . im tryna read vi and caitlyn/reader bullshit 1!!! U cloggin this shit as much as them ugky ass men ,, just Block and report or sm idk Dont give them the attention they want . 🙂↕️
Thinking about Vi being your pathetic girlfriend who acts tough and unbothered, but when it comes to you she turns into a whiny needy puppy.
“Please, please baby. I want you… Let me have you…”
She’d beg you on her knees, her powder blue eyes looking up at you in desperation and desire as she nuzzles her cheek against your thigh.
Your pathetic girlfriend! Vi that needs to be marked by you just as much as she needs to mark you. Whether that means wearing a necklace with your initials/name, or displaying small love bites from you proudly, finding you cute for being scared to hurt her while marking her when in reality she utterly loves the sweet sinking of your teeth into her skin.
Your pathetic girlfriend! Vi that loves eating you out until you’re on the verge of passing out from orgasming too much. And if she’s not using her fingers, she’d pitiably stuff her hand down her boxers to rub her throbbing clit clumsily, whimpering against your pussy. Her nose would rub your clit with each thirsty lap of her tongue, desperately needing to drink every drop of you.
But when you eat her out? You might as well just soundproof your bedroom. Her whines and whimpers for you would echo through the walls. Her cheeks would flush as brightly as her pink hair while her hips buck up to meet your lips.
“So fucking good- Oh my god, don’t stop, princess. D…on’t stop!” She’d blabber between moist pants. Her fingers tangled in your hair to shove your swollen lips to her dripping cunt.
Your pathetic girlfriend! Vi that enjoys dry humping a little too much. Finding an absolute thrill in pinning you down and grinding her hips against yours like a dog in heat. She’d kiss you messily; her tongue and teeth clashing with yours while she moans almost pornographically into your mouth.
“‘M so wet, doll. Need to fuck you. Hmpp, please let me fuck you, yeah?” She’d plead you with half lidded eyes and panting on your ear, clinging to your body because she knows you’ll let her do whatever she wants.
Your pathetic girlfriend! Vi who is an absolute mess when she fucks you with her strap. She’s a moaner and she never tries to hide it, but when she fucks you with her thick, black, veiny strap is like she can feel you around her.
She doesn’t like back shots that much. Vi needs to see every frame of your face when she pounds into you like she’s never fucked before. Just the sight of your pretty face sends a crashing wave down the pit of her stomach, and she has to get so deep into you until her cock kisses your cervix.
“So fucking pretty, thank you for letting me fuck you- Ah…” She’d moan between praises, her brows arching as she tries to focus on you and the bumping of the strap against her clit, “Hmph, thankyouthankyou. Can’t believe you’re mine.”
violet; 5,021 words; fluff, drama, brief depiction of violence (vi kicks ass), fake dating, hockey!vi, figure skater!reader, powder being hilarious, patching up injuries trope, wlw pining, mel is a badass, platonic gym soulmates jaycevi, no "y/n"
summary: in which both you and vi are suffering about each other, and you friends/fam try to help to varying degrees of success.
a/n: here it is !!! chapter two :) i hope everyone enjoys and that you're having a SMASHING beginning to your 202THRIVE. i truly had the best time writing powder in this chapter and i hope u guys love her just as much as i do u__u
< table of contents
─── Ⅵ "HASN'T IT ONLY BEEN LIKE… three weeks since —”
“Yes Powder, it’s only been three weeks since Cait and I broke up —”
“I mean, for the record, I never liked her —”
“Yes, you made that abundantly clear even when we were dating —”
“She was a stuck-up little horse-shoe crab with a weird obsession with turtlenecks and I mean, that always felt like a red flag to me —”
“Powder. Focus.”
“Oops — sorry,” Powder giggles, “what were you saying again? Something about a hot figure skater girl who’s tryna be your girlfriend?”
Vi sighs, adjusting her phone, propped up against a stack of pillows as she lazes in bed, her cheek pillowed on her crossed arms as she watches Powder fiddle with something or other through the screen.
“Trying to be my fake girlfriend,” Vi corrects.
Powder lifts up her goggles, “Oh, I like this one better already. So? What’s the issue?”
Vi groans, burying her face in her arms, “The issue is that…” she flips onto her back, staring at the faint Christmas lights strung up around her room, the soft diffuse lighting making her pause. She thinks back to the look of you on that kitchen floor, the way your eyes had lit up when you laughed, how your lips had tasted — sweet and intoxicating — against hers.
“I feel like… parts of her remind me of — of Cait.”
“Gee Wilikers, so you've gotta thing for ice queens that make questionable fashion decisions — please sis, this is not news. Not to me, not to Vander, not to the lady down the street who always tries to give us soggy croissants —”
Vi frowns, “What do you mean? And those croissants were just a little buttery —”
“Sweet god — you remember that one chick you were head over heels for when we were kids?”
Vi only frowns harder at the ceiling lights.
“You… mean the one with the long hair and —”
“Yes, the one you said looked like she could ruin your life?”
Vi makes a noncommittal noise, heat washing into her cheeks at the memory.
“I mean,” Vi muses, “she kinda did.”
Powder sighs, “Sis, we were twelve. Whatever. And then there was the basketball captain during your senior year —”
“She was like the hottest chick I’d ever seen up until that point!”
“Uh-huh — she also unironically wore crocs when she wasn’t on the court —”
“Hey, those shoes are comfortable —”
“They’re an affront to fashion and we both know it. But anyway — point being — why’re you acting surprised that you’re once again falling for someone that is A, fantastically talented at a thing, and B probably has mommy-issues up the wazoo?”
Vi swallows, the memory of your laughter ringing through her like church bells on a Sunday morning. She whines, tossing an arm over her eyes.
Powder laughs.
“Ohhh, I know that sound.”
“What sound?” Vi flips back over, squinting at her sister from her cracked phone screen.
Powder smirks, flipping an L-wrench between her fingers before pointing the straight end at Vi.
“The sound of a woman being completely and utterly pussy-whipped.”
Vi squawks, shooting up on her bed, frowning down at her phone.
“I — I am not pussy-whipped!”
Powder shrugs, dropping her eyes back onto her project, “Say what you will, but this is exactly what you sounded like when you first had a crush on that weird, turtleneck-loving mongoose —”
“What is it with you and turtlenecks? And I thought she was a horseshoe-crab? Now she’s a mongoose? They’re not even remotely similar —”
“Evil can come in all shapes and sizes —”
“She’s not evil —”
“Tell that to all her turtlenecks —”
“Okay, no what is it with you and turtlenecks —”
“I dunno! It’s just a vibe-thing, okay?” Powder drops her L-wrench and gestures towards the screen, her eyes wide even as Vi stares, nonplussed as her younger sister motions vaguely into the ether, “Like… what’s she tryna hide behind all those high necklines? And what does she have against the art and perfection that is the human collarbone — I mean —”
Vi nearly throws her phone across the room. She settles for screaming into her pillow instead.
Powder laughs, dusting off her hands and shrugging.
“All I’m saying is — this new girl, whoever she is — sounds like a better deal already.”
“How could you possibly know that? You know nothing about her.”
Powder hitches an eyebrow, “I know that she pretended to be your new girlfriend in front of horseshoe-crab-mongoose and her new button-cap mushroom of a sidepiece.”
“Button-cap — sidep— what the fuck —?”
Powder waggles her fingers, “Evil in all shapes, remember?”
Vi lets out another exasperated groan, “This was pointless —”
“It wasn’t! You just have to take her out on a date!”
“What?”
“You. Take skater-girl. On a date.”
Vi stares.
“B-but I can’t do that.”
“And… why not?” Powder tilts her head so far to the right she’s almost at 90-degrees with the camera.
Vi huffs out a breath, “Cause… the whole campus thinks we’re actually dating. So it’d be weird —”
“For you to take your fake girlfriend on a real date?”
“Exactly!” A pause. “Wait —”
Powder cackles, waving her hand.
“Lemme know how the date goes, sis! Oh! And try not fuck this one up, yeah? Wouldn’t want the whole campus to know that you fumbled an Olympic athlete, hm? Kay, love ya, bye!”
The Facetime call drops, and Vi’s left staring at a too-close image of her own bewildered face, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open. She blinks at her own reflection for a few more seconds before the screen fades to black and she’s left with nothing but the silence of her own room to keep her company.
She slumps back against the wall, kneading her eyes with the heels of her hands as she runs over Powder’s words.
Take your fake girlfriend on a real date.
But she can’t quite tamp down the strange giddiness that rises beneath her ribs at the thought.
She almost jumps out of her skin as her phone lights up again and she scrabbles at it, flicking it open only to see a single line of text from Jayce —
mel wants to talk.
“I don’t want to waste anyone’s time here so —” Mel laces her fingers on the cafeteria table, looking down the bridge of button nose as if she were interviewing a candidate for a consulate seat, not tucked into a far corner of the dining commons on a busy Thursday night.
Vi blinks, “Wow, not one for smalltalk, huh? And here I was hoping that we could chat about the weather or something.”
She glances at Jayce, who only throws her a helpless sort of shrug.
Mel ignores them both, her eyes sharp as she looks Vi over.
“What are your intentions with my friend?”
Vi’s eyebrows shoot up as she sputters, “M-my intentions?” Her gaze slingshots over to Jayce once more, and this time, he has the decency to look just a bit sheepish.
Mel’s cocks her head, clearly waiting. Vi sputters.
“W-what d’you — your friend was the one that came onto me —”
“She saved you from what looked like a terribly uncomfortable conversation with your ex,” Mel says, her tone so smooth and certain that for a second, Vi pauses to wonder if she might actually be able to simply speak things into existence with nothing but her conviction in her own words.
“She announced to nearly the whole school that we were dating!”
Mel sighs, “Yes, which is why I’m asking you — what are your intentions with her?”
Vi stares, heat now beginning to eat up the back of her neck ,”Well up until that happened, I didn’t have any intentions with her —”
“So now you do?” Mel’s voice is sharp.
Vi groans, throwing up her hands, “What? No! I mean —” she runs a hand through her hair, “I don’t know!”
Jayce leans forward, “Look, Vi — what Mel’s trying to say is —”
“I’ve never seen her like this before.”
Vi goes still. Jayce sighs.
“What… do you mean?”
Mel lets out a long breath, and for the first time, her flawless exterior cracks ever so slightly as she leans back, folding her arms across her chest.
“Ever since that party, she’s been… distracted. And her routine’s suffering because of it —”
Vi lets out an incredulous laugh, “You’re raking me over the coals because her little figure skating routine isn’t going well? Alright, I’m outta here —”
Vi tries to stand up, but Mel’s hand shoots out, quick as a flash, and when she catches Vi’s wrist, her grip is startlingly strong. Vi grunts, her arm jerking back as she glares at Mel.
“You don’t understand,” Mel says, and there’s a quiver like a hairline fracture in the low thrum of her voice that makes Vi pause, “She’s… she’s not as strong as people think she is —”
Vi scoffs, “Not sure that’s the word I’d use but —”
Mel shakes her head, “I know what people say about her, that she’s frigid — the ice princess, right? But I’ve known her since we were kids — she’s not like that.”
Mel’s voice softens, and Vi sinks back into her seat, watching as Mel pulls back her hand.
“She’s just… passionate and a bit naive —”
“Tch, really.” Vi rolls her eyes, but she can’t help the grin that threatens her lips at the memory of you, admitting to her on the kitchen floor of the party that you’re ‘not the best with impulsivity’, the soft noise you’d made at the back of your throat when she’d kissed you, how soft your skin had been beneath the hem of that wet dream of a dress —
“— this sport’s been her whole life,” Mel says, fixing Vi with an imploring look, “and whatever you did or didn’t say or do to her at that party… it’s got her in her head. And she’s not the type to fall in love easily —”
“Whoa, whoa, it was one kiss —” Vi balks at the word ‘love’ but Mel only pushes on, her voice once more taking on it’s lacquer-like shine, her eyes dark as a moonless night —
“I’m just asking you to please think about what you want out of this because…” she lets out a breath, leaning back once more, “it might’ve been just one kiss to you. But it sure as hell wasn’t just that for her.”
This is starting to get ridiculous, you think, for the fourth night in a row, sitting up in bed and glancing at the small LED clock currently blinking 12:38AM at you in a traitorous red light. You groan, scraping your nails against your scalp as you slump back into your blankets.
Moonlight pools cool and silver over your sheets, slit into slivers by the half-closed blinds.
You take a deep breath and try to clear your mind, but seven minutes later, you’re jerking back the covers to rummage around for a pair of running shorts and a sweater.
Ten minutes after that, you set off on your normal jogging route, one earbud thumping an upbeat EDM song as you let your thoughts wander. It’d been one week since the sorority party and the kiss in the kitchen. One week since Vi had nearly run out of that kitchen, looking as if she were about to be sick.
Your stomach churns. Were you really that terrible at kissing? It didn’t seem like she was having a bad time — warmth coils in the pit of your belly even as you try desperately to tamp down the electric tingle of desire that shoots up your spine every time you let your mind wander near the memory.
It’d been one hell of a kiss. But what you remembered most was the way Vi’s expression had broken open with laughter as she’d sat next to you, calling you princess, telling you that she was impressed. How bewildered she’d looked the second before you kissed her, how she’d moaned low and long when you ran your tongue across her lips. How she’d opened her mouth and let you in.
“Oh shit —” your foot catches on a small crack in the pavement and you stumble forward a few steps, catching yourself before you actually hit the ground.
“You alright there, darlin’?” a slimy voice calls from somewhere behind you, and you whip around to find a group of three men sauntering towards you, cigarette butts and empty beer cans scattered around their feet as they push up from the stoop they’d been loitering on.
“Uh yeah — fine. Thanks,” you say, taking a few steps back, quickly taking stock of your surroundings. It’s only a few minutes passed 1AM on a Saturday night, but the street you’re on is quiet, a small by-way between two residential neighborhoods, the row of houses to your right look foreclosured, their windows dark and boarded up, the low hedges in front of them overgrown and ill-watered.
“You sure? Don’t need a hand with nothin’?” Another one of the men asks, smirking as they advance on you, looking you up and down, their gazes nothing short of salacious. The third man chuckles, pulling a tiny switchblade out of his pocket.
“C’mon, dollface,” the first one says, opening his hands, “wanna keep us company for a little while? Promise we’ll show you a good time.”
Ice seizes your veins as you try to calculate how long it’d take for you to sprint to the nearest house that might have someone living in it. You stumble back half a step, ready to take off when a smear of red flashes by you and a sharp crunch sounds before one of the guys is skidding across the pavement, knocked out cold.
“The fuck —” the second man gapes at the red-hooded figure for a breath before he dives for them. But the figure’s too quick, ducking under his arm and catching him with a solid punch to the stomach that sends him reeling.
But as they pull back, the red hood slips off to reveal a shock of bright pink hair.
“V-Vi?!”
You squeak, jumping back as she turns towards the third guy, his face split in a nasty snarl, the switchblade glinting dangerously in his hand. Vi eyes the blade in his hand for a second before smirking, cocking her head.
“C’mon big guy — you wanna see how that ends?”
The man hesitates for half a second before yelling and swinging wide, but Vi’s fist connects with his jaw and he tips backwards, just as one of his friends is staggering back onto his feet, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes wild as he dives for Vi from behind.
You scream.
“Vi! Lookout!”
Vi’s elbow jerks back just in time to catch him in the chest, but he still manages to skim his fist along Vi’s cheek, and the impact jerks her head back. You let out another abortive shout as the knife-wielding man manages to catch Vi around the middle, grappling her even as she kicks out, her foot catching his friend on the chin and sending him to the ground again.
You look around frantically, eyes catching on a broken tree branch caught in one of the rusting fences — you scramble over and pull it free, heaving the surprisingly heavy branch behind you and swinging your whole body weight into it as you bring it crunching down onto switchblade’s calf.
He lets out a shout of pain, dropping to one knee, his grip loosening just enough for Vi to jerk her head back, butting him in the chin with her skull.
Dark red blood spills from his lips as Vi rips out of his arms and grabs for your hand.
You drop the branch and let Vi tug you behind her, the pair of you sprinting off till you reach the nearest through-street, the baseline thrum of car engines a welcome relief from the eerie quiet.
“What the hell were you doing out here so late?” Vi asks, rounding on you, even as her own chest heaves with the exertion.
You straighten up, pressing a palm to your stomach to stem the stitch twisting in your side.
“I — I was on a jog!”
“At —” Vi checks her phone, “1:17 in the morning?!”
You scowl, “I couldn’t sleep so I was trying to clear my head!”
“You know there are treadmills in our gym right? The gym that’s open twenty-four hours —”
“It’s not the same! And —” you cut off abruptly, slamming your mouth shut, your teeth worrying at your bottom lip.
“And what? God, holy shit — what were you gonna do if I didn’t show up?”
You crinkle your nose, sidestepping the question with, “What were you doing out so late, then?”
Vi blinks for a second before straightening up with a sigh.
“Doing the same thing you were.”
You throw up your hands, “Why’re you allowed to go running around at night, but I’m not?”
“Because I know how to lay a guy out when he tries to get fresh! Clearly, a skillset you don’t seem to share!”
“I could’ve outrun them…” you mumble, tugging at your sleeves.
Vi scoffs, “Right, and if you couldn’t?”
But your eyes catch on a cut along her eyebrow, the bruise blooming dark on her left cheek. You reach out a hand; she catches your wrist before you can touch her face, her expression guarded.
“You’re bleeding.”
Her grip loosens but she still shrugs you off, “It’s nothing.”
You frown, shaking your head. When she relaxes her fingers, you twist your hand around to catch her wrist instead.
“C’mon.”
“Uh… where’re we going?”
You lead her down the street, pausing at a crosswalk to look both ways even though the street itself is very much deserted.
“My place.”
Vi lets out a soft laugh, “Geez, princess. Are all you figure skaters this forward? Y’know usually, you’d take a girl out on a date first before inviting her home.”
You shoot her a nasty look over your shoulder.
“We’re already ‘dating’, remember?”
Vi’s smirk drops from her face, but she doesn’t pull her hand away. And by the time you reach the front of your building, she’s at a level with you, her arm hanging limp in your grip. You cast her a sidelong glance before dropping her hand and rummaging around for your keys.
“Hm. Nice place,” she says, looking around as you push into your apartment, tossing your keys in a turtle-shaped bowl by the door and toeing off your shoes. “Bit far from campus though, no?”
You head for the bathroom, flicking on the lights as you go.
“Yeah, but it’s closer to the rink — aha!” you pull out the first aid kit under the bathroom sink and make your way back into the small living room to find Vi standing awkwardly by the door. You jerk your head towards the couch.
“Sit.”
Vi sighs, eyeing the room over once more before kicking off her shoes and slumping down on the couch. You perch yourself in front of her, leaning in to check on the thin slash on her forehead.
“It’s not very deep but… I’m still gonna need to wipe it first.”
“Do your worst, princess.”
You roll your eyes, tearing open an antiseptic wipe with your teeth and reaching up to dab gingerly at the cut. Vi winces dramatically, chuckling when you give her another glare.
“So…” Vi says, in a bracing attempt to fill the thickening silence.
Your brow creases as you continue to wipe down the cut, flipping the wipe over to the clean side.
“Heard you’re training for the Olys… that’s… impressive.”
You sigh, putting down the now stained alcohol wipe and digging around for some neosporin.
“I have to qualify first.”
“Yeah? And what’s that look like?”
“Well… the quickest way to do that is to just be the best figure skater in the entire country.”
Vi lets out an incredulous laugh, “Oh yeah. It’s that simple, huh?”
You fix her with a look as you squeeze a tiny dollop of neosporin onto your finger.
“It is. But simple doesn’t mean it’s easy — hold still.”
You gingerly drag your finger across the cut, blowing gently before pulling back to tear open a bandaid.
“Barring that though, I basically have to consistently place within the top 3 at all the international competitions I participate in and… hope that the skating union thinks I’m good enough to represent the country.”
You press the bandaid to her forehead, leaning back to assess your work before letting your hand drop.
“Oh,” Vi breathes, watching as you fold the discarded bits of wrapping paper into smaller and smaller squares. “Damn, princess. You really are… good, huh.”
You let out a soft laugh, shrugging, “It’s… kinda the only thing I’ve ever been… good at.” You sigh, reaching into the first aid box for a cold compress, breaking the seal and shaking it in your hand to activate it.
Vi hums as you reach up to press the cold pack to her cheek, her hand catching yours before you can pull away completely. She doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches in your chest or the way your eyes go wide in the slant-wise light.
“Hm. You seem plenty good at getting yourself into trouble though.”
Her voice is low, husky in a way that catches even herself off guard. But you lick your lips and Vi can’t stop herself from glancing down at the soft pink flash of your tongue.
“Says the girl who bought her fists to a knife-fight,” but there’s no real bite in your voice, and still, your hand is poised beneath hers, pressed to the rapidly cooling pack on her cheek.
Neither of you seem to notice the steadily decreasing space between you, nor the rapid uptick of your pulse, nor the way your knee is somehow slotted between Vi’s legs, her free hand resting against your thigh.
“Where I grew up, a good pair of fists’ll take you much further than any fancy knife-work.”
You’re so close you can taste the heat of her words as they wash across your lips.
“Is this… the part of the night where you tell me you tragic backstory? Y’know, the one that makes you such a good hockey player?” you ask, grinning as Vi scoffs, her hand inching up your thigh till her fingers skim yours. She gives your other hand a squeeze, the one that’s still clutched beneath hers on the cold compress against her cheek.
“We really oughtta do something about that mouth of yours — it’s gonna get you into some real trouble some day.”
You tilt your head slow, your eyes caught on the dangerous curve of Vi’s mouth as you suck in a soft breath, her free hand linking with yours —
“And here I thought I was already in the realest kind of trouble I could find…”
Vi’s thumb skims along the soft pad of your hand and you wince, pain shooting up your arm as you jerk back.
“Ouch —”
“Sorry —”
You both look down and the moment fades from around you like a dissipating breath on a winter morning’s chill. She frowns down at your hand even as you try to tug it free.
“It’s nothing, I just —”
“Hold still,” Vi’s voice is still soft but stern as jerks your hand up to eye level.
A sharp splinter peaks out from the pad of your palm, just beneath your thumb and Vi sighs, dropping the hand holding the compress to her cheek.
“You got tweezers or something?”
You nod mutely, tugging away to grab a pair from your makeup bag and bringing it back.
“Guess I should be thanking you,” Vi says, frowning as she squeezes at the tender skin around the splinter, trying to get to a good angle.
“For what? You’re the one that saved me,” you say, your breath hitching as she nudges against the splinter with her thumb, her wincing as you let out a small whine.
“Shit, sorry — I mean — I would’ve been in trouble if you didn’t take that guy out with the branch — don’t move — I think I got it —”
“I just…” you shrug your free arm, watching as Vi tugs the small shard of wood from your flesh, a bead of blood collecting on your skin.
Vi chuckles, shifting back to flick the splinter from the tweezer head and hand it back to you.
“Just moved without thinking?”
You flush, nodding, rubbing at your hand, glancing anywhere but at Vi’s face.
The quiet gathers around you like smoke, swirling and thick till you can’t stand the weight of it anymore and turn back towards her.
“Look, I’m sorry I pretended to be —”
“Do you wanna go out sometime with —”
The pair of you speak at the same time and you freeze, staring at one another.
“Sorry, what?”
“No, you —” Vi breaks off, swallowing.
You shake your head, “I — you said —”
“Forget what I —”
You frown, “Did you just ask me out on a real date?”
Vi goes pink, pushing her tongue against her cheek as she glares at a blank spot on the wall.
“Not if you’re actually sorry for trying to be my fake —”
“There’s a really cute place off Centre street —”
Vi’s eyebrows hike up, a grin twitching at her lips, “Yeah?”
You purse your lips, heat crawling up your neck and kissing into your cheeks.
“They’ve got boozy cupcakes.”
Vi laughs, “Oh shit, yeah?”
“I’ve… always wanted to go but…”
“So why haven’t you?”
You swallow, the ticking, post-midnight quiet collecting sweet around the pair of you like honey.
“Th-they’re kind of big and — I’ve… I’ve never had anyone to… to share one with.”
“Kinda big, huh?” Vi asks, her voice licentious, her eyebrows waggling.
You give her a tiny shove, “Oh my god — nevermind —”
“Let’s do it.”
You blink, your lashes fluttering as Vi shifts back half an inch, sucking in a breath as if reminding her own lungs of the action of breathing. There’s a berry-stained darkness to her cheeks and a lost, liquid look to her eyes. You wonder if it’s just the dimness of your apartment but when she turns her gaze back onto you, you find yourself arrested in it’s light.
“Okay,” you breathe.
And Vi nods again.
“I’ll uh — text you — wait, do we even have each other’s numbers?”
You shake your head, watching as she digs her phone from her pocket.
“No but I —” you pause as your hand hovers over her proffered phone. Vi frowns.
“You… what?”
You take her phone and quickly punch in your number, hitting the save button and handing the phone back to her.
Vi glances down at your contact before shooting you a quick text.
You jump slightly, biting your lips as you flick open your screen, your cheeks staining a darker and darker shade of red as you flip your screen towards her.
“I might’ve… asked Jayce for your number.”
Vi stares at the saved contact — Violet <3
“Wh —”
“It was so that if anyone came up to me after that party to ask if we were really dating, I could —”
“Pretend to be my fake girlfriend better?” Vi finishes, smirking, even though her stomach flips inside her.
“Yeah… something like that,” you say, snatching your phone back, your eyes downcast.
Vi runs a hand through her hair, fisting it tight enough to sting as she backs towards the door. Her heart is thumping somewhere in the back of her throat, making a truly valiant attempt at leaping from her mouth and all she can think is that she needs to get out of here before she does something that she’s really going to regret.
“So… I should —” she gestures at the door.
“Yeah, it’s late — be careful — do you want me to call you a cab?” You push to your feet even as Vi shakes her head.
“Nah, I’ve — I can jog back — it’s not far —”
“Okay… if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure, princess.”
The silence pools at your feet as you take half a step forward, a hand pressed to your chest, the other behind your back. Vi watches, her whole body tingling as she fumbles for her shoes, a heady drunkenness soaking into her skin that might be just her tiredness catching up with her or something else entirely.
“Kay — I’ll see you.”
You put up a hand and wiggle your fingers. Vi clears her throat as she pulls open the door and slips out, bringing the door shut behind her with a long exhale, sagging against it the second it’s closed.
You hiss out a breath, stumbling forward to press your forehead to the cool metal as Vi closes her eyes, her back braced against it on the other side.
You let your lashes flutter shut just as Vi forces hers open, and both of you murmur at the exact same time —
ellie settles down behind you, eyes desirous, licking her lips. it’s quiet aside from your anticipatory breaths and the ruffling of your bedsheets from all the movement. ellie had pled with you to try this position, on your hands and knees before her. you’re feeling bashful, overly exposed with how unashamedly this angle presents your most intimate self to her.
in ellie’s mind, you are the most attractive person she has ever laid eyes on. ellie internally thanks whatever fate convinced you to agree; she croons praises at you, you muffle the sounds by stuffing your face in the pillow beneath you. you’re too flustered.
ellie’s slender but rough hands gingerly palm the plush of your ass, relishing the feel before sliding to your rounded hips. her deft, needy fingers dig into your skin, gripping to pull you somewhat backwards into a more accessible position. she’s greedy. she wants to have all of you. you’re pliant, trusting.
one hand then glides to the small of your back, her long fingers fanned out. ellie presses palm down to fix your arch— make it more prominent. the sight of your curves make for the purest but most unholy artwork.
“oh fuck..you’re gorgeous..” ellie whispers. she leans down and begins placing worshipful kisses along your lower back, over the curve of your ass, tracing your inner thighs, and finally….mmmh.
violet; 5,021 words; fluff, drama, brief depiction of violence (vi kicks ass), fake dating, hockey!vi, figure skater!reader, powder being hilarious, patching up injuries trope, wlw pining, mel is a badass, platonic gym soulmates jaycevi, no "y/n"
summary: in which both you and vi are suffering about each other, and you friends/fam try to help to varying degrees of success.
a/n: here it is !!! chapter two :) i hope everyone enjoys and that you're having a SMASHING beginning to your 202THRIVE. i truly had the best time writing powder in this chapter and i hope u guys love her just as much as i do u__u
< table of contents
─── Ⅵ "HASN'T IT ONLY BEEN LIKE… three weeks since —”
“Yes Powder, it’s only been three weeks since Cait and I broke up —”
“I mean, for the record, I never liked her —”
“Yes, you made that abundantly clear even when we were dating —”
“She was a stuck-up little horse-shoe crab with a weird obsession with turtlenecks and I mean, that always felt like a red flag to me —”
“Powder. Focus.”
“Oops — sorry,” Powder giggles, “what were you saying again? Something about a hot figure skater girl who’s tryna be your girlfriend?”
Vi sighs, adjusting her phone, propped up against a stack of pillows as she lazes in bed, her cheek pillowed on her crossed arms as she watches Powder fiddle with something or other through the screen.
“Trying to be my fake girlfriend,” Vi corrects.
Powder lifts up her goggles, “Oh, I like this one better already. So? What’s the issue?”
Vi groans, burying her face in her arms, “The issue is that…” she flips onto her back, staring at the faint Christmas lights strung up around her room, the soft diffuse lighting making her pause. She thinks back to the look of you on that kitchen floor, the way your eyes had lit up when you laughed, how your lips had tasted — sweet and intoxicating — against hers.
“I feel like… parts of her remind me of — of Cait.”
“Gee Wilikers, so you've gotta thing for ice queens that make questionable fashion decisions — please sis, this is not news. Not to me, not to Vander, not to the lady down the street who always tries to give us soggy croissants —”
Vi frowns, “What do you mean? And those croissants were just a little buttery —”
“Sweet god — you remember that one chick you were head over heels for when we were kids?”
Vi only frowns harder at the ceiling lights.
“You… mean the one with the long hair and —”
“Yes, the one you said looked like she could ruin your life?”
Vi makes a noncommittal noise, heat washing into her cheeks at the memory.
“I mean,” Vi muses, “she kinda did.”
Powder sighs, “Sis, we were twelve. Whatever. And then there was the basketball captain during your senior year —”
“She was like the hottest chick I’d ever seen up until that point!”
“Uh-huh — she also unironically wore crocs when she wasn’t on the court —”
“Hey, those shoes are comfortable —”
“They’re an affront to fashion and we both know it. But anyway — point being — why’re you acting surprised that you’re once again falling for someone that is A, fantastically talented at a thing, and B probably has mommy-issues up the wazoo?”
Vi swallows, the memory of your laughter ringing through her like church bells on a Sunday morning. She whines, tossing an arm over her eyes.
Powder laughs.
“Ohhh, I know that sound.”
“What sound?” Vi flips back over, squinting at her sister from her cracked phone screen.
Powder smirks, flipping an L-wrench between her fingers before pointing the straight end at Vi.
“The sound of a woman being completely and utterly pussy-whipped.”
Vi squawks, shooting up on her bed, frowning down at her phone.
“I — I am not pussy-whipped!”
Powder shrugs, dropping her eyes back onto her project, “Say what you will, but this is exactly what you sounded like when you first had a crush on that weird, turtleneck-loving mongoose —”
“What is it with you and turtlenecks? And I thought she was a horseshoe-crab? Now she’s a mongoose? They’re not even remotely similar —”
“Evil can come in all shapes and sizes —”
“She’s not evil —”
“Tell that to all her turtlenecks —”
“Okay, no what is it with you and turtlenecks —”
“I dunno! It’s just a vibe-thing, okay?” Powder drops her L-wrench and gestures towards the screen, her eyes wide even as Vi stares, nonplussed as her younger sister motions vaguely into the ether, “Like… what’s she tryna hide behind all those high necklines? And what does she have against the art and perfection that is the human collarbone — I mean —”
Vi nearly throws her phone across the room. She settles for screaming into her pillow instead.
Powder laughs, dusting off her hands and shrugging.
“All I’m saying is — this new girl, whoever she is — sounds like a better deal already.”
“How could you possibly know that? You know nothing about her.”
Powder hitches an eyebrow, “I know that she pretended to be your new girlfriend in front of horseshoe-crab-mongoose and her new button-cap mushroom of a sidepiece.”
“Button-cap — sidep— what the fuck —?”
Powder waggles her fingers, “Evil in all shapes, remember?”
Vi lets out another exasperated groan, “This was pointless —”
“It wasn’t! You just have to take her out on a date!”
“What?”
“You. Take skater-girl. On a date.”
Vi stares.
“B-but I can’t do that.”
“And… why not?” Powder tilts her head so far to the right she’s almost at 90-degrees with the camera.
Vi huffs out a breath, “Cause… the whole campus thinks we’re actually dating. So it’d be weird —”
“For you to take your fake girlfriend on a real date?”
“Exactly!” A pause. “Wait —”
Powder cackles, waving her hand.
“Lemme know how the date goes, sis! Oh! And try not fuck this one up, yeah? Wouldn’t want the whole campus to know that you fumbled an Olympic athlete, hm? Kay, love ya, bye!”
The Facetime call drops, and Vi’s left staring at a too-close image of her own bewildered face, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open. She blinks at her own reflection for a few more seconds before the screen fades to black and she’s left with nothing but the silence of her own room to keep her company.
She slumps back against the wall, kneading her eyes with the heels of her hands as she runs over Powder’s words.
Take your fake girlfriend on a real date.
But she can’t quite tamp down the strange giddiness that rises beneath her ribs at the thought.
She almost jumps out of her skin as her phone lights up again and she scrabbles at it, flicking it open only to see a single line of text from Jayce —
mel wants to talk.
“I don’t want to waste anyone’s time here so —” Mel laces her fingers on the cafeteria table, looking down the bridge of button nose as if she were interviewing a candidate for a consulate seat, not tucked into a far corner of the dining commons on a busy Thursday night.
Vi blinks, “Wow, not one for smalltalk, huh? And here I was hoping that we could chat about the weather or something.”
She glances at Jayce, who only throws her a helpless sort of shrug.
Mel ignores them both, her eyes sharp as she looks Vi over.
“What are your intentions with my friend?”
Vi’s eyebrows shoot up as she sputters, “M-my intentions?” Her gaze slingshots over to Jayce once more, and this time, he has the decency to look just a bit sheepish.
Mel’s cocks her head, clearly waiting. Vi sputters.
“W-what d’you — your friend was the one that came onto me —”
“She saved you from what looked like a terribly uncomfortable conversation with your ex,” Mel says, her tone so smooth and certain that for a second, Vi pauses to wonder if she might actually be able to simply speak things into existence with nothing but her conviction in her own words.
“She announced to nearly the whole school that we were dating!”
Mel sighs, “Yes, which is why I’m asking you — what are your intentions with her?”
Vi stares, heat now beginning to eat up the back of her neck ,”Well up until that happened, I didn’t have any intentions with her —”
“So now you do?” Mel’s voice is sharp.
Vi groans, throwing up her hands, “What? No! I mean —” she runs a hand through her hair, “I don’t know!”
Jayce leans forward, “Look, Vi — what Mel’s trying to say is —”
“I’ve never seen her like this before.”
Vi goes still. Jayce sighs.
“What… do you mean?”
Mel lets out a long breath, and for the first time, her flawless exterior cracks ever so slightly as she leans back, folding her arms across her chest.
“Ever since that party, she’s been… distracted. And her routine’s suffering because of it —”
Vi lets out an incredulous laugh, “You’re raking me over the coals because her little figure skating routine isn’t going well? Alright, I’m outta here —”
Vi tries to stand up, but Mel’s hand shoots out, quick as a flash, and when she catches Vi’s wrist, her grip is startlingly strong. Vi grunts, her arm jerking back as she glares at Mel.
“You don’t understand,” Mel says, and there’s a quiver like a hairline fracture in the low thrum of her voice that makes Vi pause, “She’s… she’s not as strong as people think she is —”
Vi scoffs, “Not sure that’s the word I’d use but —”
Mel shakes her head, “I know what people say about her, that she’s frigid — the ice princess, right? But I’ve known her since we were kids — she’s not like that.”
Mel’s voice softens, and Vi sinks back into her seat, watching as Mel pulls back her hand.
“She’s just… passionate and a bit naive —”
“Tch, really.” Vi rolls her eyes, but she can’t help the grin that threatens her lips at the memory of you, admitting to her on the kitchen floor of the party that you’re ‘not the best with impulsivity’, the soft noise you’d made at the back of your throat when she’d kissed you, how soft your skin had been beneath the hem of that wet dream of a dress —
“— this sport’s been her whole life,” Mel says, fixing Vi with an imploring look, “and whatever you did or didn’t say or do to her at that party… it’s got her in her head. And she’s not the type to fall in love easily —”
“Whoa, whoa, it was one kiss —” Vi balks at the word ‘love’ but Mel only pushes on, her voice once more taking on it’s lacquer-like shine, her eyes dark as a moonless night —
“I’m just asking you to please think about what you want out of this because…” she lets out a breath, leaning back once more, “it might’ve been just one kiss to you. But it sure as hell wasn’t just that for her.”
This is starting to get ridiculous, you think, for the fourth night in a row, sitting up in bed and glancing at the small LED clock currently blinking 12:38AM at you in a traitorous red light. You groan, scraping your nails against your scalp as you slump back into your blankets.
Moonlight pools cool and silver over your sheets, slit into slivers by the half-closed blinds.
You take a deep breath and try to clear your mind, but seven minutes later, you’re jerking back the covers to rummage around for a pair of running shorts and a sweater.
Ten minutes after that, you set off on your normal jogging route, one earbud thumping an upbeat EDM song as you let your thoughts wander. It’d been one week since the sorority party and the kiss in the kitchen. One week since Vi had nearly run out of that kitchen, looking as if she were about to be sick.
Your stomach churns. Were you really that terrible at kissing? It didn’t seem like she was having a bad time — warmth coils in the pit of your belly even as you try desperately to tamp down the electric tingle of desire that shoots up your spine every time you let your mind wander near the memory.
It’d been one hell of a kiss. But what you remembered most was the way Vi’s expression had broken open with laughter as she’d sat next to you, calling you princess, telling you that she was impressed. How bewildered she’d looked the second before you kissed her, how she’d moaned low and long when you ran your tongue across her lips. How she’d opened her mouth and let you in.
“Oh shit —” your foot catches on a small crack in the pavement and you stumble forward a few steps, catching yourself before you actually hit the ground.
“You alright there, darlin’?” a slimy voice calls from somewhere behind you, and you whip around to find a group of three men sauntering towards you, cigarette butts and empty beer cans scattered around their feet as they push up from the stoop they’d been loitering on.
“Uh yeah — fine. Thanks,” you say, taking a few steps back, quickly taking stock of your surroundings. It’s only a few minutes passed 1AM on a Saturday night, but the street you’re on is quiet, a small by-way between two residential neighborhoods, the row of houses to your right look foreclosured, their windows dark and boarded up, the low hedges in front of them overgrown and ill-watered.
“You sure? Don’t need a hand with nothin’?” Another one of the men asks, smirking as they advance on you, looking you up and down, their gazes nothing short of salacious. The third man chuckles, pulling a tiny switchblade out of his pocket.
“C’mon, dollface,” the first one says, opening his hands, “wanna keep us company for a little while? Promise we’ll show you a good time.”
Ice seizes your veins as you try to calculate how long it’d take for you to sprint to the nearest house that might have someone living in it. You stumble back half a step, ready to take off when a smear of red flashes by you and a sharp crunch sounds before one of the guys is skidding across the pavement, knocked out cold.
“The fuck —” the second man gapes at the red-hooded figure for a breath before he dives for them. But the figure’s too quick, ducking under his arm and catching him with a solid punch to the stomach that sends him reeling.
But as they pull back, the red hood slips off to reveal a shock of bright pink hair.
“V-Vi?!”
You squeak, jumping back as she turns towards the third guy, his face split in a nasty snarl, the switchblade glinting dangerously in his hand. Vi eyes the blade in his hand for a second before smirking, cocking her head.
“C’mon big guy — you wanna see how that ends?”
The man hesitates for half a second before yelling and swinging wide, but Vi’s fist connects with his jaw and he tips backwards, just as one of his friends is staggering back onto his feet, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes wild as he dives for Vi from behind.
You scream.
“Vi! Lookout!”
Vi’s elbow jerks back just in time to catch him in the chest, but he still manages to skim his fist along Vi’s cheek, and the impact jerks her head back. You let out another abortive shout as the knife-wielding man manages to catch Vi around the middle, grappling her even as she kicks out, her foot catching his friend on the chin and sending him to the ground again.
You look around frantically, eyes catching on a broken tree branch caught in one of the rusting fences — you scramble over and pull it free, heaving the surprisingly heavy branch behind you and swinging your whole body weight into it as you bring it crunching down onto switchblade’s calf.
He lets out a shout of pain, dropping to one knee, his grip loosening just enough for Vi to jerk her head back, butting him in the chin with her skull.
Dark red blood spills from his lips as Vi rips out of his arms and grabs for your hand.
You drop the branch and let Vi tug you behind her, the pair of you sprinting off till you reach the nearest through-street, the baseline thrum of car engines a welcome relief from the eerie quiet.
“What the hell were you doing out here so late?” Vi asks, rounding on you, even as her own chest heaves with the exertion.
You straighten up, pressing a palm to your stomach to stem the stitch twisting in your side.
“I — I was on a jog!”
“At —” Vi checks her phone, “1:17 in the morning?!”
You scowl, “I couldn’t sleep so I was trying to clear my head!”
“You know there are treadmills in our gym right? The gym that’s open twenty-four hours —”
“It’s not the same! And —” you cut off abruptly, slamming your mouth shut, your teeth worrying at your bottom lip.
“And what? God, holy shit — what were you gonna do if I didn’t show up?”
You crinkle your nose, sidestepping the question with, “What were you doing out so late, then?”
Vi blinks for a second before straightening up with a sigh.
“Doing the same thing you were.”
You throw up your hands, “Why’re you allowed to go running around at night, but I’m not?”
“Because I know how to lay a guy out when he tries to get fresh! Clearly, a skillset you don’t seem to share!”
“I could’ve outrun them…” you mumble, tugging at your sleeves.
Vi scoffs, “Right, and if you couldn’t?”
But your eyes catch on a cut along her eyebrow, the bruise blooming dark on her left cheek. You reach out a hand; she catches your wrist before you can touch her face, her expression guarded.
“You’re bleeding.”
Her grip loosens but she still shrugs you off, “It’s nothing.”
You frown, shaking your head. When she relaxes her fingers, you twist your hand around to catch her wrist instead.
“C’mon.”
“Uh… where’re we going?”
You lead her down the street, pausing at a crosswalk to look both ways even though the street itself is very much deserted.
“My place.”
Vi lets out a soft laugh, “Geez, princess. Are all you figure skaters this forward? Y’know usually, you’d take a girl out on a date first before inviting her home.”
You shoot her a nasty look over your shoulder.
“We’re already ‘dating’, remember?”
Vi’s smirk drops from her face, but she doesn’t pull her hand away. And by the time you reach the front of your building, she’s at a level with you, her arm hanging limp in your grip. You cast her a sidelong glance before dropping her hand and rummaging around for your keys.
“Hm. Nice place,” she says, looking around as you push into your apartment, tossing your keys in a turtle-shaped bowl by the door and toeing off your shoes. “Bit far from campus though, no?”
You head for the bathroom, flicking on the lights as you go.
“Yeah, but it’s closer to the rink — aha!” you pull out the first aid kit under the bathroom sink and make your way back into the small living room to find Vi standing awkwardly by the door. You jerk your head towards the couch.
“Sit.”
Vi sighs, eyeing the room over once more before kicking off her shoes and slumping down on the couch. You perch yourself in front of her, leaning in to check on the thin slash on her forehead.
“It’s not very deep but… I’m still gonna need to wipe it first.”
“Do your worst, princess.”
You roll your eyes, tearing open an antiseptic wipe with your teeth and reaching up to dab gingerly at the cut. Vi winces dramatically, chuckling when you give her another glare.
“So…” Vi says, in a bracing attempt to fill the thickening silence.
Your brow creases as you continue to wipe down the cut, flipping the wipe over to the clean side.
“Heard you’re training for the Olys… that’s… impressive.”
You sigh, putting down the now stained alcohol wipe and digging around for some neosporin.
“I have to qualify first.”
“Yeah? And what’s that look like?”
“Well… the quickest way to do that is to just be the best figure skater in the entire country.”
Vi lets out an incredulous laugh, “Oh yeah. It’s that simple, huh?”
You fix her with a look as you squeeze a tiny dollop of neosporin onto your finger.
“It is. But simple doesn’t mean it’s easy — hold still.”
You gingerly drag your finger across the cut, blowing gently before pulling back to tear open a bandaid.
“Barring that though, I basically have to consistently place within the top 3 at all the international competitions I participate in and… hope that the skating union thinks I’m good enough to represent the country.”
You press the bandaid to her forehead, leaning back to assess your work before letting your hand drop.
“Oh,” Vi breathes, watching as you fold the discarded bits of wrapping paper into smaller and smaller squares. “Damn, princess. You really are… good, huh.”
You let out a soft laugh, shrugging, “It’s… kinda the only thing I’ve ever been… good at.” You sigh, reaching into the first aid box for a cold compress, breaking the seal and shaking it in your hand to activate it.
Vi hums as you reach up to press the cold pack to her cheek, her hand catching yours before you can pull away completely. She doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches in your chest or the way your eyes go wide in the slant-wise light.
“Hm. You seem plenty good at getting yourself into trouble though.”
Her voice is low, husky in a way that catches even herself off guard. But you lick your lips and Vi can’t stop herself from glancing down at the soft pink flash of your tongue.
“Says the girl who bought her fists to a knife-fight,” but there’s no real bite in your voice, and still, your hand is poised beneath hers, pressed to the rapidly cooling pack on her cheek.
Neither of you seem to notice the steadily decreasing space between you, nor the rapid uptick of your pulse, nor the way your knee is somehow slotted between Vi’s legs, her free hand resting against your thigh.
“Where I grew up, a good pair of fists’ll take you much further than any fancy knife-work.”
You’re so close you can taste the heat of her words as they wash across your lips.
“Is this… the part of the night where you tell me you tragic backstory? Y’know, the one that makes you such a good hockey player?” you ask, grinning as Vi scoffs, her hand inching up your thigh till her fingers skim yours. She gives your other hand a squeeze, the one that’s still clutched beneath hers on the cold compress against her cheek.
“We really oughtta do something about that mouth of yours — it’s gonna get you into some real trouble some day.”
You tilt your head slow, your eyes caught on the dangerous curve of Vi’s mouth as you suck in a soft breath, her free hand linking with yours —
“And here I thought I was already in the realest kind of trouble I could find…”
Vi’s thumb skims along the soft pad of your hand and you wince, pain shooting up your arm as you jerk back.
“Ouch —”
“Sorry —”
You both look down and the moment fades from around you like a dissipating breath on a winter morning’s chill. She frowns down at your hand even as you try to tug it free.
“It’s nothing, I just —”
“Hold still,” Vi’s voice is still soft but stern as jerks your hand up to eye level.
A sharp splinter peaks out from the pad of your palm, just beneath your thumb and Vi sighs, dropping the hand holding the compress to her cheek.
“You got tweezers or something?”
You nod mutely, tugging away to grab a pair from your makeup bag and bringing it back.
“Guess I should be thanking you,” Vi says, frowning as she squeezes at the tender skin around the splinter, trying to get to a good angle.
“For what? You’re the one that saved me,” you say, your breath hitching as she nudges against the splinter with her thumb, her wincing as you let out a small whine.
“Shit, sorry — I mean — I would’ve been in trouble if you didn’t take that guy out with the branch — don’t move — I think I got it —”
“I just…” you shrug your free arm, watching as Vi tugs the small shard of wood from your flesh, a bead of blood collecting on your skin.
Vi chuckles, shifting back to flick the splinter from the tweezer head and hand it back to you.
“Just moved without thinking?”
You flush, nodding, rubbing at your hand, glancing anywhere but at Vi’s face.
The quiet gathers around you like smoke, swirling and thick till you can’t stand the weight of it anymore and turn back towards her.
“Look, I’m sorry I pretended to be —”
“Do you wanna go out sometime with —”
The pair of you speak at the same time and you freeze, staring at one another.
“Sorry, what?”
“No, you —” Vi breaks off, swallowing.
You shake your head, “I — you said —”
“Forget what I —”
You frown, “Did you just ask me out on a real date?”
Vi goes pink, pushing her tongue against her cheek as she glares at a blank spot on the wall.
“Not if you’re actually sorry for trying to be my fake —”
“There’s a really cute place off Centre street —”
Vi’s eyebrows hike up, a grin twitching at her lips, “Yeah?”
You purse your lips, heat crawling up your neck and kissing into your cheeks.
“They’ve got boozy cupcakes.”
Vi laughs, “Oh shit, yeah?”
“I’ve… always wanted to go but…”
“So why haven’t you?”
You swallow, the ticking, post-midnight quiet collecting sweet around the pair of you like honey.
“Th-they’re kind of big and — I’ve… I’ve never had anyone to… to share one with.”
“Kinda big, huh?” Vi asks, her voice licentious, her eyebrows waggling.
You give her a tiny shove, “Oh my god — nevermind —”
“Let’s do it.”
You blink, your lashes fluttering as Vi shifts back half an inch, sucking in a breath as if reminding her own lungs of the action of breathing. There’s a berry-stained darkness to her cheeks and a lost, liquid look to her eyes. You wonder if it’s just the dimness of your apartment but when she turns her gaze back onto you, you find yourself arrested in it’s light.
“Okay,” you breathe.
And Vi nods again.
“I’ll uh — text you — wait, do we even have each other’s numbers?”
You shake your head, watching as she digs her phone from her pocket.
“No but I —” you pause as your hand hovers over her proffered phone. Vi frowns.
“You… what?”
You take her phone and quickly punch in your number, hitting the save button and handing the phone back to her.
Vi glances down at your contact before shooting you a quick text.
You jump slightly, biting your lips as you flick open your screen, your cheeks staining a darker and darker shade of red as you flip your screen towards her.
“I might’ve… asked Jayce for your number.”
Vi stares at the saved contact — Violet <3
“Wh —”
“It was so that if anyone came up to me after that party to ask if we were really dating, I could —”
“Pretend to be my fake girlfriend better?” Vi finishes, smirking, even though her stomach flips inside her.
“Yeah… something like that,” you say, snatching your phone back, your eyes downcast.
Vi runs a hand through her hair, fisting it tight enough to sting as she backs towards the door. Her heart is thumping somewhere in the back of her throat, making a truly valiant attempt at leaping from her mouth and all she can think is that she needs to get out of here before she does something that she’s really going to regret.
“So… I should —” she gestures at the door.
“Yeah, it’s late — be careful — do you want me to call you a cab?” You push to your feet even as Vi shakes her head.
“Nah, I’ve — I can jog back — it’s not far —”
“Okay… if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure, princess.”
The silence pools at your feet as you take half a step forward, a hand pressed to your chest, the other behind your back. Vi watches, her whole body tingling as she fumbles for her shoes, a heady drunkenness soaking into her skin that might be just her tiredness catching up with her or something else entirely.
“Kay — I’ll see you.”
You put up a hand and wiggle your fingers. Vi clears her throat as she pulls open the door and slips out, bringing the door shut behind her with a long exhale, sagging against it the second it’s closed.
You hiss out a breath, stumbling forward to press your forehead to the cool metal as Vi closes her eyes, her back braced against it on the other side.
You let your lashes flutter shut just as Vi forces hers open, and both of you murmur at the exact same time —
