#maddie nolan x you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kamaluhkhan · 3 months ago

Text

IS IT CASUAL NOW?

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 14.6k summary: you and vi are both tired of complicated relationships so try the whole friends-with-benefits thing....and maybe forget the whole point of your arrangement in the first place. warning: lesbian situationships (there is so much angst and yearning), brief mention of (internalized) homophobia and struggles with addiction....but mostly cheesy domestic fluff and smut [oral (vi receiving), fingering (both receiving), thigh riding, slight bondage play, switch!vi has my heart] (18+) ! a/n: merry (belated oops) xmas girls and gays <33 i've probably spent way too much time on this but it's my BABY....kinda based on leighton and alicia's plotline in s1 of sex lives of college girls and ofc casual by chappell roan (there are many other chappell references throughout too hehe). also yes i made a mini playlist that consists of the songs that i think reflect this fic's sun, moon, and rising signs....pls enjoy and happy holidays !!!

♪: "angel baby" by troye sivan (sun); "pretty girl" by hayley kiyoko (moon); "casual" by chappell roan (rising)

“not even one week into the new academic year, violet rose atlas, captain of the varsity soccer team, has been suspended from gameplay due to recent unsportsman-like behavior, sentenced to 100 hours of community service, and banned from the local lesbian bar.”

mel removes her eyes from the screen to raise an eyebrow at you. you just shrug and take a sip of your coffee. you glance over at the clock on the wall.

11:09am.

“to top it all off, she’s late,” you declare, trying your best to hide the anticipation simmering in your stomach.

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

“that was before.”

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

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

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

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

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

“see? bad news. literally.”

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

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

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

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

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

enough. fucking pull yourself together.

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

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

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

relationships are overrated, anyways.

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

maybe vi will fit right in.

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

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

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

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

“paula was a walking red flag.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“nice to meet you, too, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“so, violet —”

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

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

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

“wow, okay. that’s a lot.”

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

“so….where do i fit in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vi nods. “sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah?”

“don’t be late.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

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

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

needless to say, you did not get any sleep.

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

the correct answer is C.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“oh my gosh, i am so sorry!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

no response.

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

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

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

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

“i’ll miss the whole tournament.”

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

“but the team needs me —”

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

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

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

“i…don’t know why that’s relevant.”

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

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

“exhausted, yeah.”

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

“so the laptop —”

“finishing assignments.”

“the drinking?”

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

“and the sex?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

wow. okay.

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

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

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

“you’ve got a reckless streak.”

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

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

“hey!”

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

vi scoffs. “asshole.”

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

“so….?”

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

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

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

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

yeah. you kind of already do.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you’re not just a crush, anymore.

you’re a friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’ve got mail?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“can i ask you something?”

“anything,” vi answers, squeezing your calf.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck.

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

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

you’re single now. good to know.

“what happened?”

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

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

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

“i’ll drink to that.”

you cheers, keeping eye contact.

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

“take care of you?”

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

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

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

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

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

you hum.

“lucky her.”

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

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

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

shit. did vi say that out loud?

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

no use in turning back now.

“i’m serious, wonder woman.”

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

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

you swallow. “i care about you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

“sounds perfect to me.”

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

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

vi nods once. “no strings attached.”

“it’ll be casual.”

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

“promise?”

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

“promise.”

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

because that’s what friends are for, right?

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽

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

wndr wmn ☆

yeah, im at work

v ⚽️

leave early. im BORED and HORNY

wndr wmn ☆

ofc you are

v ⚽️

pls u love it

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

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

wndr wmn ☆

yeah i got that

v ⚽️

so….

wndr wmn ☆

….

leaving now

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“you sure about this, v?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“perfect.”

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

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

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

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

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

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

“oh, those are vi’s.”

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

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

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

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

“i just…guessed.”

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

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

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

“are you sure that’s a good idea?”

you just shrug.

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

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

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

“that’s different.”

“how so?”

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

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

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

“noted.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi starts showing up at your place after soccer.

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

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

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

you pretend you have all the time in the world.

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

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

no breaking that promise.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

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

v ⚽️

MY FAVORITE!!

i would love 2

but lucky fell asleep on me

we just finished devouring an xl pepperoni pizza

wndr wmn

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

v ⚽️

come on it’s cute

[v ⚽️ sent an attachment]

wndr wmn

yeah, you’re cute

v ⚽️

come over here instead?

wndr wmn

omw

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

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

“come on — hurry up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it doesn’t really matter, anyways.

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

“oh! you don’t have to —”

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

you laugh, feeling warmth radiate from your chest.

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

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

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

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽️

do u need more nicotine gum?

im at cvs rn

wndr wmn

yeah that’d be great!!

v ⚽️

i’ll get u the cinnamon one

that’s the one u like right?

wndr wmn

yep!!!

v ⚽️

okay cool

im also gonna get u some of those iron supplements

wndr wmn

my hero 🙏🏽

thank you sm

v ⚽️

ofc

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

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

“are you jealous, v?”

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

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

nice, but different.

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

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

so. things are different, but nice.

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

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

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

“my car’s outside.”

you smirk. “my break’s in 15.”

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

“f-fuck,” vi groans.

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

“so fucking good. i’m gonna —”

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

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

“vi! i thought i lost this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you assure vi that she did nothing wrong.

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

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

hey

are you in town during break?

v⚽️

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

why? u gonna miss me??

wndr wmn

lol

im having ppl over for friendsgiving on sunday

if you wanna join

v ⚽️

hell yeah

can i bring anything?

wndr wmn

just your pretty face

i’ll take care of the rest

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

etc. etc.

v ⚽️

damn!!!!

full course meal

wndr wmn

yep

im basically wife material

v⚽️

pls we’re so over gender norms

but yeah

you are

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

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

yet here she is, standing outside your door.

it’s cool, though. completely platonic behavior.

she knocks.

there’s no answer.

she knocks again.

nothing.

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

“it’s me, wonder woman,” she tries.

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

“i’m not really in the mood for sex.”

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

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

“look, vi —”

vi?

since when do you call her that?

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

damn, so your phone does work.

you’ve just been ignoring her calls and texts.

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

ah.

the classic generic excuse and non-committal statement combo.

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

the hits just keep coming.

thankfully, vi’s always been a good fighter.

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

your face remains unchanged.

“okay, well, you’ve checked on me.”

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

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

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

you exhale, your eyes softening.

there.

a hesitant smile, an invitation to come inside.

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

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

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

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

“what’s there to talk about?”

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

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

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

“it’s fine,” you grumble.

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

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

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

vi squeezes your hand, hoping to reassure you.

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

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

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

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

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

you shrug. “if that’s what it takes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

you pause, narrowing your eyes at her.

“you said…. ‘we.’”

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

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

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

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

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

“so…you’ll consider it.”

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

“all yours, if you want it.”

“are you sure?”

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

“wow. you are a gentleman.”

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

you actually laugh.

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

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

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

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

“get some rest, pretty girl.”

a few hours later, you wake up alone.

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

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

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

drive safe. text me if you need anything.

xxx

- v

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

zaun yellowjackets vs. piltover knights.

two minutes left in overtime.

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

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

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

this time, it’s personal.

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

this could be the winning point.

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

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

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

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

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

vi takes a deep breath.

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

you’re there too, sitting next to them.

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

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

but, vi’s on the field.

and this is the winning point.

the whistle blows.

she makes the shot.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

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

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

it almost doesn’t feel real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you were her first kiss.

“i can’t believe i forgot that.”

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

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

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

“oh, we’re not —”

“yeah, we’re just —”

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

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

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

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

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

caitlyn never even wanted to meet vi’s family.

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

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

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

vi coughs, choking on a mushroom.

“powder!”

“what! she never told you?”

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

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

“guys, maybe don’t —”

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

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

“rightfully so,” ekko adds.

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

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

“she spends three days there —”

“i thought it was two —”

“no, it was three —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

there’s a knock on the door.

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

deep breaths.

this isn’t the same as before.

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

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

there’s another knock.

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

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

“are you sure you’re okay?”

“i’m fine. see you around.”

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

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

“i’m fine. you can leave.”

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

well, when you put it like that….

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

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

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

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

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

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

vi’s eyes lock onto yours.

“you do?”

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

vi blinks at you.

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

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

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

vi shakes her head, throat suddenly very dry.

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

“what’s stopped you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"get on your knees for me, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"all – all for you.”

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

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

"where are my...."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vi reaches over to turn down the music.

“sure, little man. what’s up?”

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

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

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

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

“we’re just friends.”

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

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

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

ekko closes his book, smiling to himself.

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

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

“wait — you’ve bet on my love life?”

ekko smirks. “so it is love.”

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

“it doesn’t matter.”

because, it really doesn’t matter.

you’re out with someone else right now.

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

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

cupcake

Hey, Vi

Just wanted to say good game today

You played brilliantly

Violet

cupcake

No need for the attitude

I was just trying to be nice

Violet

my apologies!!!

thank you SO much for recognizing my talent captain kiramman

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

cupcake

Bitterness isn’t a good colour on you, darling

Violet

im NOT your darling

cupcake

I’m aware

I saw you earlier with that girl

Are you together?

Violet

idk

are you still with maddie?

cupcake

Actually, we broke up

I was hoping you and I could chat

Violet

what’s in it for me?

cupcake

The chance to reconnect with an old friend

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

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

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

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

“what the fuck, vi?” you seethe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“because we’re friends.”

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

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

“what the fuck are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah, just give us a second —”

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

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

you glare at each other.

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

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“maybe ask sky? i should stay here —”

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

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

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

“vi?”

she jumps slightly when you say her name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“she’s not — we’re not together.”

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

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

but, also:

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

you miss her.

“do you wanna come sit?”

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

“so, i admit that —”

“vi, you were right —”

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

“i fucked up,” vi blurts out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i thought you’d never ask.”

3K notes · View notes

choas232 · 4 months ago

Text

Canine Vastaya! G/N! reader x Steb ⊹ ˖ 𓃡⊹ ˖

Summary: Progress day has you and your fellow enforcers relaxing. Slacking, even. Posted deep in the bowels of the festivities, you decide (against your will) that you might join them along with your coworker, Steb.

Reader is a canine Vastaya, and an enforcer. NO MORE SILLY READER. We are serious people now. No use of Y/N, neutral terms and they/them are used to refer to reader.

CWs: Emetophobia, just one line and not described in depth. Suggestive themes. Most of all, SLACKING ON THE JOB.

Word count: 3.3k

⊹ ˖ 𓃡⊹ ˖

Gold. So much gold. Glimmering and crowding, the city fighting itself so violently that even you, you with your dulled Vastaya vision, can see the gory speculate of the festivities laid bare for all to see. The squawks of children, vendors, golden ticking butterflies, machinery, force your ears flush to your head. The scent of cheap carnival treats masquerading as delicacies assaults your sensitive nose, and try as you might you can’t push down the fur dusting your neck, standing on end.

Overstimulating. Cruel. Beautiful. You lean back on the chair, pressing your coiled tail against the hard surface to hide how it curls close to you.

“Can I leave now?” The man sat in the medical tent behind you slurs out. You do not give him the courtesy of replying, but you turn, catching Steb tucking the equipment back into its rightful places. The man’s not on any of the horrid drugs you see slipping out of Zaun these days, and although his remaining brain cells might be worse for wear, he just needs to sleep it off.

Maddie finishes chewing out his drunkard friends for leaving him passed out, and hastily trots back to the tent, wiping the thin gleam of sweat off of her forehead and quickly adjusting her hat. It’s only a brief lapse before she’s back to Junior officer Nolan, sternly helping him to his feet and carting him out to his waiting, hooting friends.

“Having fun?” She teases, returning back to the tent and slumping down on the chair beside you. You scoff, and turn back to watching the crowds, still spotting out of the corner of your eye how Steb moves to join you.

You try not to look at him, instead focusing on the ginger beside you. This turns out the be almost as much as a mistake as allowing yourself to dwell on your affections for him, because she’s already looking at you.

You see her grey-blue eyes flick to your tail, pressed tightly down between your legs now that your audience is gone, and then back to your ears. “Or maybe, disappointed to be missing out on the fun?” she gestures to the drunkards, stumbling away and your lips pull back in a semi-amused scoff.

“I’m working. This is important.”

“I think our law-mandated breaks are pretty important too.” You give her a scrutinizing look, and she shrugs, still smiling. “You two take a break. I’ll man the station.”

Two. Alone with him? No. You can’t.

“Your hypocrisy is almost as amusing as the fact you’d think I’d even consider taking a break.” You hastily push out, grasping like a drowning cat for a footing.

“Ahhhh. There’s where you’re wrong. I don’t think. I know.” She tilts her head, pointing a freckled finger towards your face.

Dammit. Your ears, perking up of their own accord, press against the hard surface of your enforcer helmet and traitorously peeking out. You move to tuck them away, scowling as you do, and you swear you watch her swallow a snicker.

Telling her was a mistake. Why did you think telling his closest friend you held… affection for him was a good idea? That your helmet is so tight it makes your skull ache in an attempt to hide your perking ears? That you stayed up teaching yourself sign language for him, even though you knew you could never let him know? That you think of him, constantly, each 24 hours, 1440 minutes and 86400 seconds of your days?

Possibly the alcohol in your system and the choking feeling of having pressed the fondness low in your gut, hoping it would rot. It didn’t

Steb watches the exchange without interjectural, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Calmy, he reaches a hand to brush at his scaled cheek before beginning work on unrolling the sleeves still tucked up from his medical misadventure.

You feel like a teenager, rabid and nervy as you try not to look, but also try not to look like you’re trying not to look.

“Steb? Thoughts?” Maddie, noticing your gaze, crosses her legs, looking up at him from her place on the chair and folding her arms.

His eyes widen slightly at addressal, and he shallowly nods, tilting his head towards you followed with a questioning look. Do you want to?

Misinterpreting his communication on purpose, she gleefully spins back around to meet your glare. “A yes than. Don’t worry friends. I’ll be just fine all on my lonesome.” She turns to meet the sea of wide brimmed hats, parasols (all the rage, lately,) and bold, bright colours, and you know the conversation is done. She can be frighteningly persistent when she puts her mind to a task, and you know better than to argue and further her teasing.

With a sigh and a quick prayer to the heavens, you turn to make the maker of your troubles, who politely offers you a hand. You take it, and he hauls you off of the chair.

You curse the makers of the leather gloves that adorn his hands.

Great heavens. Where did that come from? Certainly not you.

Trying to accept defeat with grace, you say, “I could use a walk, anyways,” stretching as you do, popping your back and pushing out your arms until your claws scrape the roof of the tent. Steb’s eyes follow, and then snap away as you peer at him. “Any sightseeing you want to get done?” You try to evenly ask him.

He pauses, and then, with a tilt of his head, splays a hand out to instead gesture to you. He’s doting. You’re not to used to it. You didn’t get to where you are with hands holding on to yours, anyways.

“Well. I… I could do with some food.” There’s this stall, far from the main, noisy festivities and food-poisoning littered stalls that sells the sweet fried fruits of your childhood. Crunchy, thick and rolled in flour on the outside, and slick with blue, sweet juices that burst on your tongue when you take a bite. Nice to gnaw on for your teething child’s self, blue staining your lips and splattering across the pressed shirts your parents draped you in for Progress Day.

He nods, and then concernedly taps his helmet with a flicker of his ears. For a moment you don’t understand.

Then you do.

Of course he remembers how you complained about how the enforcers uniform’s headpiece hurts your ears, not built to suit Vastaya. A throw away comment. Of course, he looks at you with those big, gleaming blue eyes, stupidly kind-hearted, and of course your traitorous tail kicks up behind you.

You clamp it between your legs, meeting his eyes defensively and ignoring how they glance down to observe it. From her place, Maddie is grinning. You don’t need to look at her to tell.

You unclasp your helmet, dropping it onto a nearby table, flickering out your strained ears out not unlike your limbs minutes prior.

“Ready to go?” You inquire, and his ears affirmative flicker, nodding goodbye to Maddie as you leave. You do too, but with a different picture painted in your features. She laughs, and then the crowd swallows you whole.

The adults parts around you, one bonus to being in uniform. The children, however, do not follow this courtesy, instead slamming past you after miniature flying ships and bright, pink bubbles that chime when they pop. You have half a mind to reach out and feel the oil and soap slick surface yourself, your glimmering reflections blinking back at you.

Steb observes each passerby, each float and display with keen interest, every now and then glancing back at you. You try to pre-emptively look away when he does. He’s perceptive, you’ve noticed. Alert. Always the first to act, always to first to spot the danger.

You just hope he doesn’t notice how without meaning to you drift closer to him, how now your ears press against your skull with a different emotion than overstimulation.

You have half a mind to mimic his attention, anyways. The arcane, and technology, has been kind to you this year. The exploits of the people of Piltover has been many. You pass a humanoid golden robot, speaking animatedly and advertising the goods of a nearby vendor, and then a functioning, beating silver heart, water pumping through its long metal cords. A man yells over at you, trying to sell you golden jewellery fit for adorning your fangs, stopping when he sees the uniforms.

All the metal, the fabrics, and the ridiculous uniform, the heat cages you in. You push down the urge to stick out your tongue, pant, instead reaching up to massage sweat out of your nape and furred ears.

With a tap on your shoulder that makes you startle, he cuts through the crowd towards a nearby vendor, gesturing for you to wait. You do, and moments later he returns with water.

He makes it so hard not to love him.

Gratefully, you take it, unbottling the cap and taking a great gulp, water dribbling down the sides of your mouth. His sip of his own bottle, cool and elegant, makes you feel slightly ashamed, but he doesn’t seem to care. After refusing to let you pay him back, you continue on your way.

Finally, after what feels like simultaneously too long and too short of a trip, you duck under a banner-stricken archway, and step into the courtyard. Less adorned than the other sections of the festival, but in your humble opinion, kinder on the eyes. Copper, oxidized and gleaming blue, is crafted into flowers. They paste themselves over every inch of the courtyard, forming archways up to a great canopy, light filtering through to softly illuminate your path, along with a cool breeze.

Small tents, strung with buzzing lights dot the area. Families sit beneath them, enjoying modified ice-cream that never melts, young couples tenderly brush their hands together on benches, and vendors chat.

You approach the stall, the store vendor barely looking up. The little embroidered rhinestones on their face flash as they lazily push a hand towards a sign, reading out the golden font. “30% discount for couples,” before turning back to the puzzle, some kind of contraption with a prize inside, no doubt.

You’re halfway through an awkward, no, that’s not, we’re not— when the scent of the fruits plasters to your nostrils. Delicious, dripping in memories of childhood, of stained fabric and high-pitched giggles.

Dammit.

Steb glances at your wagging tail, crushing any hope of retaining your dignity. He doesn’t look away quickly this time, trailing up slowly to meet your eyes, lips slightly parted. Your body betrays you, as it always does. You just hope he assumes the fruits are the cause.

“We’ll have six, please.” You defeatedly ask, abruptly looking away. Three for you, three for him.

Do you look like a couple? With your matching posture, neat uniforms, completely and utterly in step… you need to be, to do the work you do, and you talk without talking, but it’s largely because he’s mute. So why did they…

He reaches down into his pockets to tug out his wallet. You beat him to it, slamming yours down with a dull thump against the counter. He would scoff, you think, had he been more animation in his features, but the narrow of his eyes makes you well aware of his displeasure. You smile back at him, enjoying the childish feud. Your fangs flash.

Your damned tail is still wagging.

The vendor passes you the long, wooden sticks, three of the delicious treats impaled on them. You take yours and repress the urge to devour it immediately.

“Where to sit…” You mumble, only to spot the tents, shaded from the light and cooled by the breeze. Steb follows you as you fall with a thump into the tangle of blankets. He carefully sits as not to drop the treat, removing his hat and carefully placing it in the mouth of the tent.

You dig in. It’s exactly as what was remembered, filling, the thick fried flour coating contrasting with the blue juices inside. At first, you try to eat neatly, like you see your fellow Enforcer doing, but that falls to pieces the moments you get your fangs on the fruits. You wolf it down, (a pun, from you? More likely than one would think.) with a gusto that scares you, and place the wooden stick down on the mat below you.

You watch as he tilts his head, holding one hand under his mouth to catch stray crumbs and the other holding the stick at an angle so he can sink his pearly whites into the treats. It’s a careful process, one that doesn’t leave any of the mess splattered across his face, nor his shirt.

Conversation isn’t your strong suit. You aren’t literate in waxing poetic, nor charming the teeth off your fellows. The silence you keep with him is comfortable. It houses you in it’s embrace not unlike the breeze gently nipping at your skin.

You hate to say it, but Maddie was right. You’re enjoying this. Perhaps too much. You can hear your disobedient tail gently thumping against the fabric.

God, you’re parched after devouring the treat. Already having finished your own bottle, you eye Steb’s. Would it be weird to ask him to take a sip? Would you wrap your lips around the rim? No, no, but pouring it into your mouth without contact might look childish and ridiculous… perhaps you shouldn’t…

He notices you looking and slides you the bottle. Without thinking, your mind still screaming, you unclasp the top and take a swig. Saliva— his saliva is on the lips of the bottle… lips?

God, are you fifteen? You need to get a hold on yourself.

“You’ve been quiet.” You mutter, without really thinking. His eyes narrow, his head cocking coyly to the left. “I— you know what I mean… you haven’t been saying as much… showing as much?” He humours your attempts at communication with his full attention, turning to meet you as he places the blue-stained wooden stick away.

“…are you nervous?”

He shakes his head.

“Tired?”

Again. A quick shake.

“I’m out of guesses.”

He leans back, a quiet hum coming deep from his throat as he does. “Calm?” you don’t know why you sound as disbelieving as you do. A shallow nod, with a wave of his hand this time, towards your loose posture, relaxed, perked up ears and gently wagging tail. You’re calm too, you suppose.

Then, with a pause, he reaches up to brush his fingers to his cheek. “Hmm?” You mirror him, pressing yours to your own face. Your fingers come off blue.

He dips his fingers into his breast pocket, pulling out that neat, unstained handkerchief. Does he buy them in bulk? Does he clean them? A mystery you don’t want to uncover. He hands it to you, and you thank him quietly. He watches you as you dab the corners of your face, for a moment, before he repoints, gesturing for you to move to the left. You miss it again, before he reaches out, not bothering to take the handkerchief from you.

With the rest of his hand braced across your jaw, he stretches out a thumb to push, hard, down, wiping the fleck off juice off.

When he pulls away, you see blue on his finger.

Nonchalantly, he pops his thumb in his mouth, gently tugging the juice off with more teeth than tongue, before his hand moves to rest beside him once again.

You gape. You gape some more. Does he know what he does to you? Reduces you, you, studious and hardworking, you, into a mess. A stuttering, tail-wagging, blushing mess. You want to strangle him. You want to kiss him. He glances back at you, and you try to casually resume what you were doing before— what was that again?— your senses kicking into overdrive.

“Did you enjoy the uhm, snack?”

He nods, relaxedly. You feel, and retain, the horrible feeling you are being teased.

“…Yeah. Me too.” You swallow, and than talk, maybe to fill the once comfortable silence, wrangle it into submission. “I used to come here with my parents. When I was younger. They used to dress me up— in shirts they knew would be ruined by the grime I would acquire playing carnival games. I…” You don’t know where you’re going with this. Ceasing your rambling, you knead fabric in your hands. “Any happy memories of Progress Day?”

He nods. For a lapse too long to be natural, he pauses, almost in thought, and then with his thumb and pinkie fingers extended and his three middle fingers curled into his hands, he hurriedly brings his arms down. ‘Now.’ ‘Today.’

Sign language.

“I’m glad.” You quickly mutter, before your running mind can outpace your voice. Your face is treacherously flushing.

You realize too late he doesn’t know you’ve been teaching yourself sign language.

That him using it makes little sense— and frozen in the headlights, you watch as his face changes. He peers at you. He peers at you some more, and then his hands are moving, quickly. You catch pieces, something— M-A— something—I-E —Tell — something—

Oh. Oh no.

“Maddie? Maddie told you what, exactly?”

This is the situation of your nightmares. Telling her was a mistake. A drunk mistake you’ll regret for the rest of your life, your pitiful life. Scared to watch his face but fearful looking away will make you look guilty— can you deny this? Laugh it off?— you hover somewhere between letting your racing thoughts overwhelm you and trying to breathe, dammit.

Slowly now, he pats his fingers to his outspread palm, before tapping his forehead.

‘Learn.’

He points to his moving hands

Learn… sign language….

Oh. Thank the lords.

She told him you learnt sign language for him.

Like that’s any less of a confession of love.

He’s still looking at you. Waiting for an explanation, maybe. God, you hate feeling like this— completely at his mercy.

“I. Ah.” Is it just you, or is he moving closer? It’s messing with your head, anyways, how close he suddenly feels to be. Your heart rattles around your ribcage. “I wanted to. For you.”

For you? You’re an idiot—

He kisses you.

You taste sweetness, sugary and blue on his lips. They’re softer than you thought they would be. He kisses as earnestly as expected, though. Just once, very chaste, pulling back to gingerly watch your expression.

That doesn’t last long before you go in for seconds. Or maybe he kisses you again. The details are lost in the hand you thread into his hair— his hair gel slick hair.

His hands blindly clutch for the curtains of the tent, yanking them shut with force. Your tail thumps so loudly against the ground you barely hear the little noises you make, barely feel his hands, steadying themselves on your sides. You kiss him again. And again. You gorge yourself on it— like the hungry wolf you are. He is so soft, and you are starving.

Piltover’s finest. Piltover’s finest. You’re Piltover’s finest. Handpicked, educated and dressed in taxpayer funded uniforms. You’re golden, machine-made butterflies, you’re store vendors, you can’t think, you’re ripe and plump for the picking, and you’re hating these stupid uniforms, these wretched uniforms, so tough to unbutton as they are.

It’s just when he threads his tongue over your pointed teeth, only when you move your fingers to his shoulders, and then down, when somebody staggers over drunkenly, throwing up loudly in a nearby bush.

With a sigh, he detaches (you do not miss the string of blue-stained saliva that connects you for a brief moment), rising to his feet and feeling for his helmet.

No rest for the wicked, you suppose.

He gives you a long look as he tugs the tent door open, tapping his finger against his palm and then twisting his hand down.

‘Later?’

Your tail thumps louder than you thought it could.

⊹ ˖ 𓃡⊹ ˖

Notes: Thank you to @spac3-shark for suggesting this sihiwnsowd. If i ever revisit this idea, I might try feline reader. Cat x fish? You get what I’m putting down? We’ve done yapping, silly reader, and stoic reader…. What next. If you have any ideas, please message me, drop an ask, anything!!! :)

As a side note, You curse the makers of the leather gloves that adorn his hands.

Great heavens. Where did that come from? Certainly not you.

Reader: he should take off his gloves…

Reader: WHO SAID THAT.

SIDE SIDE NOTE: I swear there will be more kissing and less yearning next time!! you have my word.

#steb arcane #arcane #arcane season 2 #steb #steb x reader #uhm #sorry if there's any grammatical issues!!!#gahhh it's always nerve racking posting these kind of things

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evoscancelled · 2 months ago

Note

📣PLEASE LISTEN!!!!📣

I have a request

Okay so like Maddie Nolen ponytail orgin. Imagine reader always wears her hair (preferably longer than maddie's) in a ponytail and one day decided to put one in Maddie's hair and reader was gushing over how cute she thought it was and how it was like a bobcat tail. Maddie started wearing a ponytail ever since, just because her girlfriend loved it so much

Pretty please 🙏

of course anon!

men dni!

maddie nolan x reader

content: AFAB/fem!reader, fluff, reader is mentioned to have longer hair (hair type NOT mentioned), reader is briefly mentioned to be taller than maddie but not by much, established relationship, mentions of wanting to marry her

characters: maddie nolan

synopsis: waking up next to maddie and then getting ready in the morning, when reader wants to give her girlfriend a ponytail in her hair.

writers note: such a cute idea! I love her fuckass ponytail I NEED HER. I love women with accents.

—

maddie nolan x reader fluff

—

waking up next to maddie was so sweet, the way she clung to you, the way she nuzzled her face into the crook of ur neck. the little sounds she’d make was adorable, little moans and groans from the early and groggy morning feeling. she was practically ontop of you with her leg over your hip.

she is not a morning person, she doesn’t like the way that even if she is so comfortable, in her little hibernation, she’d have to leave your warmth each morning. she hated it.

when the alarm would go off, she’d groan, trying to stop it as fast as she can so you wouldn’t wake up— five more minutes was all she wanted. rolling back over into your arms as her eyes fluttered closed, squeezing you tightly

“mmmh…” you grumble, “goodmorning..”

you kiss her on her forehead and run your fingers through her hair, so soft, so pure.

“morning, love.” she kisses you back, but on your cheek.

“I can’t believe it’s time to wake up already, yeah?”

“I don’t wanna get up..” you smile, “few more minutes?”

“mmmmmmmmmh… let me think… yes.”

you giggle to eachother, getting comfortable once again and wrapping your arms around one another.

———————————————————————————

finally out of bed, you two brush your teeth next to eachother, chatting about what to pick up for breakfast on the way to work.

“love, you want tacobell for breakfast? that’s a lot for first thing in the morning, don’tcha think?”

“starbucks? they have good coffee— obviously, and they have some good sandwiches.”

you stand tall behind her, slouching down to put your head on her shoulder as you look at her in the mirror, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“starbucks sounds good. mhm!” she turns around and reaches up to put her arms around your neck

“your gonna make us late, aren’t you?”

“maybe, if I get lucky?”

she giggles at that, kissing your neck and then turning back around to continue her morning skincare routine.

“awh, dangit.”

you brush through your hair, grabbing a hair tie to put your hair in a ponytail,

“why don’t you ever do anything different with your hair, mads?”

“well I don’t have as much hair as you do, im not sure what I’d do with it anyway,”

“here, let me see.”

you stand behind her once again, gathering her hair back into a small little ponytail, giggling and kissing the skin on the back of her neck.

“now atleast some of it is out of your face?”

she looks in the mirror back at it not quite sure how to feel about it yet until you—

“ur so cute!!” you hold her face with both of your hands

“it’s like a little bobcat tail!!”

and with that she blushes, deciding that’s how she’d wear her hair for the rest of forever.

“now we’re matching, aren’t we?”

“ur like one of those crazy ginger cats.”

“I am not!” she giggled, guys her accent I can’t she’s so wife

“if that’s what you’d like to think, babes.” you give her a peck and get dressed into your work clothes as she does the same

she was so adorable with her new hairstyle, the way it was tied back, how soft it was, how pretty she looked with it, her natural color complimenting her skin tone.

god you loved her— no matter what ambessa says you don’t give a fuck if you are in a relationship with somebody you work with— you were marrying her.

“I think I like it, yeah?”

you pick her up, holding her by her hips while she wraps her legs around you,

“you sure are pretty.”

“you are so flirty this morning.”

“that a bad thing?”

“mm-mm, I like it.”

“yeah?”

————

01/12/25

@canontypicalgoblins — I hope you like it!

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jinxed-newyork · 4 months ago

Text

SMOKE & FOG

0.2 The Last Drop

pairing: jinx x reader (romantic), reader x Isha (siblings), reader x Sevika (platonic)

synopsis: Your injury has led you to the one person you swore you could never trust again. A traitor who has never brought you any good and only harm decides to patch you up but with any good deed comes a price. The only question is will this lead to your sister or just more terror?

word count: 4.8k

warnings: unreliable narrator (reader), morally gray actions from narrator (reader), villainous activity, murder, oppression, mistreatment, blood & gore, hurt/comfort, drugs & drug use, PTSD, canon violence, suggestive themes, angst, (arcane season 2) spoilers, cursing, fighting, mental illnesses, degrading language towards characters and about characters, indirect Maddie Nolan slander, Caitlyn Kiramman slander

A/N ; most underlined things have a song that go with them that I highly reccommend you listen to , to get the feel/vibe of what's happening ! the same thing applies for the first chapter but I forgot to tell you . also you guys should send me requests for other things you wanna see me write about while you're waiting on a new chapter.

My legs could only carry me so far, my stomach felt like my insides were seconds away from spilling out. The blood dribbling down my arm made a path no matter where I went, it was sickening, like a retelling of my crimes even though I couldn't remember them. I could hear their cries and screams in the back of my head, but not what led up to them. Grown men’s cries of pain and sorrow wasn’t something that I was used to, I was always the one in pain, the one being kicked into the ground and abused until that got their sick fill of my defeat. I couldn’t cough up any blood, the injury wasn’t deep enough to ruin me but it still felt like it was. I was so worried about Isha but I could feel my body starting to slow, I could feel myself losing it ever so slowly, I went to the only place that I could find. The Last Drop.

This used to be a place of solace and safety, one ran by Vander, the symbol of peace in this lowly town, no matter what he would always be able to cheer you up and now it was overrun by Silco’s old men however one of them was my saving grace. “Sevika!” A tortured cry escaped my throat along with her name. She had to be here, I couldn't hold myself up any longer so she said had to be here. “SEVIKA!” My voice cracked, every octave I never thought possible, my body fell from the wall, the only strength I had was to hold my injury from bleeding anymore.

A gold and brown boot fell into my vision but I couldn’t even lift my head up for a simple greeting, instead I fell flat on my face, I felt warm– is this what dying truly is? It’s so lifeless, my life didn’t flash before my eyes, I didn’t regret every decision I’ve ever made or see some bright light, I was wondering who was gonna take care of Isha while I was gone. Who was gonna make sure you ate every night and made sure she got home in one piece, who was gonna keep her away from Smeech while I couldn't, who was going to replace me because I was too weak to stay alive and help.

My eyes opened drearily, the first thing gracing my vision was an unpeeled orange. Oranges are actually my favorite fruit, one of the only good things that people stole from topsiders besides equipment was fresh fruit. Everything in the underground was just a remake of something from topsiders, food that was already on someone else’s plate, clothes that were already on someone else’s back but fresh fruit was the one thing we had and it was delicious. Sure it wasn’t as great as sugary treats or drinks that I was sure all the topsider brats got to have on a daily basis but it meant something.

My hands immediately reached for it, splitting it open down the middle and taking a piece off of the side before letting it into my mouth. This could have been poisoned but I would have died a happy person, because who gives a shit? Within a moment of tasting the sweetness of the fruit, reality hit me like a train– I was bleeding out in the middle of the Last Drop and now I’m.. where the hell am I? This wasn’t the Last Drop, or the back rooms where Vi, Powder and little man used to be, I envied them, every kid in Zaun did. Those little shits got away with murder and Vander always protected them, he was a savior, everyone loved him. All I could do was sigh at the memory of Vander and the others whenever we were younger, Powder reminded me so much of my little Isha, even though she was just a baby, an infant, they were so similar. Not anymore.

Powder was long gone, so was Vi and Mylo and Claggor and Little Man, every single one of them was gone. Even though “powder” was still in Zaun, she wasn’t truly the same. This wasn’t my concern, I needed to figure out where the hell I was. The air felt thin, a weird greenish color and it was near toxic. Inhaling it felt like I was swallowing sandpaper, my throat was closing up and every cough I hacked out was painful, my eyes were barely able to see through the clearing and I was met with the sight of enforcers, through the clearing all I could see were enforcers. A whole group of them, however one I could recognize without even thinking about it. Caitlyn Kiramman.

A gun raised as she explored the foreign territory and her lackeys followed in suit, they were actually terrifying, all of them, gas masks covering their guilty faces, the swoosh of hair just barely escaping their helmets. A shield plate covering their chest from any harm and yet everyone else down here was stuck with no armor, no masks, no weapons but they were raiding a place that looked similar to an arcade– a child’s place. How worse could they get? How worse would they be if they catch me? I caught a glimpse, a small glimmer of blue hair, a braid running from the shadow but it escaped my vision long before I could actually see it. I couldn’t worry about this, whether or not that's who I assumed it was, I needed to get out of there immediately. My stomach was still in knots of pain but I still ran, I couldn’t be in there. The last thing I heard was a singular shot let off but my body went in the opposite direction.

Half an hour later I was stuck with half an orange, two full vials of shimmer and no sister in sight. I was too close to our house to keep the shimmer on me, it wasn’t like my job was a secret to Isha but I didn’t want her to see me like this. I didn’t even know if the shimmer was still in my system, two whole vials of it had gone down the drain or rather injected itself into my skin and I couldn’t even feel it or remember what happened but I knew it was there, I could feel the buzzing under my fingertips. It was a dormant sensation waiting to be reawakened with every step I took but I couldn’t allow it to over take me. “Isha! Isha, I’m home!” I shouldered off my jacket, a hand rubbing over the bandage around my mid area in the cracked mirror. Weak Freak. Blighter. Bitch.

I held my head in my hands, the headache brewing over the cynical thoughts running through my mind, I saw him, the debt collector I killed. I saw him in my mind and behind me in the mirror but whipping around only led to air and the agitation of my headache even more. It was starting to turn more into a migraine, even the lights would irritate me, I couldn’t open my eyes without the lights burning them and my head screamed at me. “Your fault! It’s your fault that I’m dead! You know that right, blighter?” “Shut up!” As the silence finally fell, I remembered my reality, no one was in the house but me, not Isha, or the debt collector or enforcers. Just me. “God fucking damn it, I’m losing my shit.”

I didn’t remember passing out, I didn’t even remember making it to the scratched up couch that we owned and yet that’s what I woke up on and to my surprise my sister was in the very same room as me, crouched on the floor with scuffs on her face and hands. Rushing over, I stooped down to her level, brushing the caked up dirt out of her hair and dust off of her face. She looked like she had taken a tumble beyond comparison but she was smiling and giggling like an idiot. Her hat was covered in small drawings all over it, pink, blue, yellow and purple streaks of colors splayed all over it, what the hell? “What happened to you? Where have you been?” She completely ignored my question, glazed over eyes as she asked about my whereabouts– signing it, I had to see her dusty and fragile hands ask about where I had been and why I was injured, I couldn’t admit to my sister that I was selling again and I definitely couldn’t say that I had probably killed six people. “Smeech, I pissed him off and we both know that doesn’t end well but I’m fine. It’s a small injury, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks.” She frowned, not believing any of my bullshit by a long shot but I tried. I took the hat off of her head, examining it closer, wiping off the small bits of dust that remained.

She shook her head at me, complained that it was purely nothing, it was hilarious how much sass a little girl could have with her hands and facial expressions alone, honestly impressive. I didn’t want to leave her side anymore, I couldn’t after the scare today. I was afraid to even go back and sell, Smeech would want revenge for the debt collectors I may or may not have killed, I still couldn’t recall correctly if that was me. Fuck. I let out a hiss at the memory of me ditching the vials right outside the house, some random mainliner was gonna grab them, that wasn’t the concern to me but if they overdosed on my shimmer then Smeech would know and all hell would rain down like hail as he slowly started fitting the pieces together. An image of Isha being dragged away from me, kicking and screaming, fighting like all hell because she was my sister but still losing, I couldn’t take the sight, my head was hurting, basically killing me, there was no way I could let that happen.

I returned the hat to her head, squishing it down enough to cover her eyes as a joke waiting as she pushed it back up with an unagitated glare. “We don’t have any food for tonight, so I’m gonna go get some, alright? I just need to make a little bit more money and there will be enough for both of us..” I sucked in a breath as I looked at her. “If I can’t make enough for two then you can get whatever you want, alright? I’ll be right back, shouldn’t be wrong.” Her small frame ran towards my leg, launching herself onto me and not letting go even whenever I tried to shake her off like a bug. “Isha! Isha! Come on, you gotta let me go! I gotta go!” I would never yell at her, more groans of annoyance at a normal tone, one of her hands released its grasp to sign to me once again. “Promise me you’ll come back. Promise.” Gods, this little girl, she was gonna be the death of me.

“I’ll do you one better, I swear. I swear to every deity in this realm that I will make it back home to you, Isha. I don’t care what happens as soon as I leave this house, I will make it back to you.” I wiped the small tear from her face and planted a kiss on her forehead (a little hard with that helmet of hers but I wasn’t gonna tell her to remove it) , rubbing her cheeks and she finally released her grip and with that I made my way back out into the city– and I will keep my goddamn promise.

Never in my life did I ever think that I would be going toe to toe with a mainliner for some shimmer that I didn’t even want and yet here I was, getting the shit beat out of me by some random hash-head with a bone to pick because I saw the shimmer the same time that he did. Goddamn it! Why did I even leave the house? The shimmer was a lot further than I remembered and now I was reeling the consequences of my actions, with a kick towards the man’s torso, I felt stronger than I usually do but the feeling was shortly replaced as he flew away from my body and his sudden missing force sent me backwards directly onto the ground. Man, I am just having a shit day today. Dusting myself off, I made it back to my feet, scoffing as I took a look around at the scene before me, I did all this for one vial. What's gonna happen when I find the second one? If I even find it.

“Hey! Are you ok over there?” God fucking damnit. Hiding the shimmer behind my back I turned towards the voice, another group of enforcers however one of them was injured, I had only been outside for an hour and a half maybe two, I lost track of time but still that wasn’t enough time for a group of enforcers to get jumped unless there was something else going on in town that I wasn’t aware of. A ginger haired girl poked her head out from the light in the alleyway towards me, my eyes looked bloodshot because I couldn’t recall the last time I had slept or had water or a full meal. Hiding my face with a glare towards the ground, I tried to sneak glances at them, a weird blue looking guy was holding up a bulkier man, there was no way I was gonna win a fight if he was gonna be my opponent, it didn’t matter how much shimmer I had in my body, he could body slam me no problem– it also didn’t help me that I didn’t really know how to fight, I just swung my hands and eventually they would hit something or someone. “Hey, sweetheart, are you ok?” Why did she have to call my sweetheart? It was so much more..demeaning, degrading me in such a way, like she was taunting me. The lick of her accent only dealing more pain to the wound, Piltover, every single one of them assumed the worst of anyone down here and the fact that she was an enforcer? God I would never live it down if she found me with shimmer, hell she might even kill me on the spot, so my only option? “Fine. That.. crackhead tried to steal my money. He succeeded, I’m pretty much out.” I lifted my face, so that she could see me, injuries from my other fight still visible, her face reacted but not her words however the two behind her seemed impatient, whispering about her needing to hurry up. She rummaged through her jacket pocket and dropped some coins in my hand, plenty for me and Isha, god they were so easy. With a wave she ran back to her little group, a scowl on the man’s face as he looked at me, at that point hiding the shimmer didn’t do me any good and they were leaving and injured as well, were they really gonna stop for me?

That ginger haired enforcer gave me plenty enough for me and Isha, maybe even a little bit more however I still needed to get rid of this shimmer– I needed to at least prove to Smeech that I did sell my products and didn’t just lose it (which is exactly what I did). I owed him nothing, absolutely nothing and yet here I was still trying to pay off my dwindling debt..a debt that was definitely going to have some “added fees” as soon as he figured out that it was me. My eyes glazed over the sky, a blanket of dimming sky had fallen over, then again I could barely see anything due to the glaze of the smoke, it felt like the smoke from earlier however it wasn't as thick so it was just barely breathable. My hand flew over my mouth, a small attempt to filter the trashed air, as soon as I made it through the smoke I could see Piltover in my wake, one day Isha would be up there, she wouldn’t be stuck down here with anyone else, she would be trusted and respected and no one would where she came from because I’d erase any existence of her being in Zaun, for her own safety, for her future.

My thoughts were shattered, not because of the shimmer this time, but because the ground began to shake, the gas in the alleyway being dragged outwards towards god knows what. I thought it was a monster or a vacuum until Piltover was painted pink, blue, purple and green, the colored smoke staining buildings which I could see even from where I was. Children started giggling, running around and celebrating the defaming of Piltover’s “perfect” picture. I couldn’t stop the smile that was shown on my lips– gaze trapped on the smoke until it dissipated. “Jinx! Mommy she’s back, it’s Jinx!” Jinx? Two run ins in one day would be crazy, right? I ran into the enforcers that she murdered earlier today and now I’m watching her plans play out in front of me. I've only seen her a few times in my entire life but she was enrapturing every single time, her mind was near genius, something that no one ever appreciated or acknowledged but I saw it, I noticed it, granted that meant nothing to her since we had never met but still. She’s actually the one who got me into creating my own trinkets. Isha took a liking to it as well, perhaps I should start to tweak them a bit more. Focus. If Jinx was up to no good then I was pretty much screwed– Isha. I left her at home and promised that I would be back, no I didn’t promise, I swore that was more important than any promises I could ever make. I sprinted back home but I’m not sure why I even got my hopes up. She was gone, she didn’t leave anything behind, damnit maybe I should have made her swear that she was gonna stay here, not that I was gonna come back.

My unfortunate first thought was to check wherever Jinx was, thanks to that colorful display she couldn’t have been that far. I didn’t really know where her “hideout” was, I just knew where Silco used to do business since it was pretty hard to hide such a renovated building and it’s been abandoned ever since his death a few months ago.. To be honest Silco gave me more hope than Vander ever did but once he fell down the wrong rabbit-hole and created shimmer, I lost confidence in every new “symbol of peace” that popped up every few months, except Jinx.

Something about her was.. interesting, it was like she never wanted to be a symbol but everyone kept treating her like one, some may say it was just her being humble but I know better. It was being stuck with a responsibility you never asked for and every single person who was supposed to lead you and show you how it works is gone and now you’re forced to figure things out on your own and everyone is depending on you. It’s how I felt when our parents died, the responsibility to take care of Isha was killing me inside. I never even wanted another sibling, I just wanted to be an only child, we were struggling enough as it is and dad was always sneaking out. When he returned he reeked of Piltover, of their lavish perfumes, exotic smells and fancy food, we both knew that what he was doing wasn’t good but he was all that we had so we couldn’t just let him go because of some.. Piltover woman who stole his heart from my mother.

I couldn’t find it in my heart to call him the traitor that he was, not even mom did it, if anything she looked worried for him every time he got back from Piltover, stealing him away with hushed whispers. I could never really hear what they were talking about, I just assumed that they didn’t want to fight in front of me but I was a big girl, I could handle it, I didn’t need them to treat me like a scared child.

Now here that scared child was again, clutching my shirt away from my skin like it would save me from whatever horrors were inside of this building, I expected dead bodies in the corners, people’s heads on the gate as a warning or a beware, instead it looked like a normal building but with a lot of lights on the outside. I shoved the front door open, it seemed locked but this place was clearly abandoned so it's not like there were any guests hiding inside– besides the ghosts that is.

It was freezing in there and the temperature only felt like it was dropping the further I moved, the slow movement led me to an office room, an uncomfortably dusty chair was hidden away by the even worse looking desk. It was very uncanny, I could play out Silco turning around in his chair in front of me despite the fact that I have never met the man face to face. “Well, don't you clean up nicely?” The rasp from her voice made me jump, my head swinging in every direction to find out where it came from, she sounded like she was behind me, and beside me all at once– turns out she was just beside me.

“Sevika– mara, you could at least announce yourself?” There was a brand new arm that adorned her, gold in color but drawings all over it in those same, now traumatizing colors, and a slot machine to go with it, wasn’t she an addict? “What are you doing down here, blighter?” I hated that term and she knew it, it was definitely just to get under my skin but it worked every single time. “Looking for my sister.” She shouldered a laugh. “I was wondering where your other half was. My personal favorite out of the two, she doesn’t complain as much.” I rolled my eyes, she was mute, she didn’t verbally complain about anything but I guess just shutting up is what gets you favored by Sevika. “We found her aright, Jinx caught her trying to get away from some of that rat’s ol’ debt collectors. That your doing?” I mentally cursed however my body showed my disdain from the way I deflated. “I… I didn’t mean to. Damn it, it wasn’t my fault. A group of enforcers came out of nowhere and jumped the shit out of me and some other sellers. It’s how I got this–” I lifted my loose shirt to show her the wrapped up injury, she grimaced and looked away from it as if she wasn’t interested in it but hadn’t she already seen it before? Why was she acting like this? “Wait, weren’t you the one who bandaged me up? You’ve already seen it, why are you asking me what happened?” Her head turned back to me and her eyebrow raised as she stood up and walked towards me. I’m not a pussy but I know a fight that I can and cannot win and she is someone I can’t fight and win. “No. I haven’t seen you since last year.” “Then.. I went to the Last Drop, looking for you. Who helped me if it wasn’t you? I saw your shoes..” Sevika groaned loudly and took off, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to follow behind her but I did.

It looked like an abandoned air ventilation system, however it was decorated with the same drawings that I saw on Isha’s hat when she came home and the one’s on Sevika’s arm– Jinx? Isha noticed me before I noticed her, running immediately over to me and hugging onto my leg, tears filled my eyes as I looked at her. I didn’t think she was dead but my hopes of her being alive and well weren’t very high at the moment. I clutched onto Isha’s side, tears filling my eyes, I had almost her twice in one day and it was enough to give me a heart attack– it didn’t help that both times I thought I lost her ended with Zaun’s symbol of “peace” and psychopath who was also the most alluring woman I have ever met in my entire life.

God damn it Jinx. She scowled at me, an eyebrow raised at my presence, that seemed to be happening more often than I would have liked it to. “Enforcers, they jumped the shit out of me and almost killed me. I would have never left her alone if it wasn’t for those bastards.” Isha’s inaudible giggle was below me as she signed the word for “shit” and I lightly slapped her hand away, kids are so bad. Jinx’s eyes didn’t seem to waver, forever staring into my soul as if she was gonna rip my throat out with her teeth for even touching Isha– like she wasn’t my sister. “Looks like you didn’t do a very good job.”

Her gaze went towards my stomach and I wanted a hole in the floor to open and swallow me up, her surveying my body was so intimidating and intimate that it began to breach the lines of uncomfortable. “I killed those enforcers ok? I killed them and the stupid debt collectors in that goddamn alleyway. There are six people dead and it’s all my fault so can I get a little grace here?” I almost yelled at her, who was she to tell me that I was a bad sibling? A bad protector? “You left her!” She seemed to stalk closer to me with her every word. “At home! She was never supposed to be on the streets in the first place but if she didn’t leave the house like I told her not to then we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!” My words were directed towards Isha but my anger was shot directly at Jinx, so much she almost choked on her words. “But you still left me!” “I didn’t mean to! I went to hell and back to get back home to her!” I was so entranced by my own fit of rage that I didn’t even notice her change of words. She wasn’t talking about Isha, she was talking about herself, but I had never left or even met Jinx personally besides this one point. She had just been a whisper in the crowd, a terrifying sight that Silco had created that he guarded as if she was actually his own daughter. It was sickening to hear but it was none of my business. We both just sat there, heaving chests and ignoring the tears that were threatening to slide down our cheeks, the only reason I looked away from her was because Isha tapped my thigh. “We were fighting the enforcers, the one with the blue hair almost shot us!” Us? Us Us?! My eyes flicked up towards Jinx, invading her personal space without a care in the world, pushing her back up against some makeshift desk, she could have stopped me if she wanted to but didn’t.

“You let Isha get close to Caitlyn Kiramman? You almost let her get shot by Caitlyn Kiramman?! She’s a fucking child! Do you have any restraint at all or are you just that evil that you can’t even help yourself but enjoy chaos? And why the fuck did Caitlyn Kiramman almost shoot you?” At my last question I spun towards Isha, I didn’t actually know anything about what was going on, I just knew that she almost shot my sister and that was enough to go off on anyone around. “The kid was protecting Jinx. Jumped on top of her and wouldn’t let go of all hell, Caitlyn and Vi were trying to kill her– your sister didn’t want to let that happen.” Oh. Well now I felt like a fucking idiot, Jinx was going through hell and I just blamed her for everything without even asking, however she could have clarified or at least said something while I was standing in front of her– why hadn’t she moved? I turned my head back to her to apologize but she bombarded me with a hug so fast I almost fell over, those tears from earlier finally over took her, wetting the top of my already ruined shirt. I didn’t know how to respond, I just awkwardly wrapped my arms around her as she snuggled into my neck. “You came back to me.”

taglist: @livinginabasement @llycrow @katethejinxwife @hank-girl @ayedomino0 @jiunxo @vivispace @maksysti @jinxslapdog

#arcane season two #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #isha arcane #arcane spoilers #arcane jinx #arcane #x reader

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