Chapter Text
“With it 4th down and 1 yard to go and 3 seconds left on the game clock, it’s the last play of the game. The TCC Hounds trail the Demacian Kings by 3 and they’re out of field goal range.”
I have to win, Caitlyn thinks as she crouches behind her center and scans the defense’s positioning.
“It looks like the Twin City Hounds are gonna go for it, Tom.”
I have to win. “Diamond 40! Diamond 40! Set. Hut!” Caitlyn yells over the crescendoing crowd.
“It’s a QB sneak! Kiramman breaks free! She’s at the 30! The 20! The 10! Holy –”
I have to win, Caitlyn repeats in her mind as she sprints with all the might her long legs will give.
“Hounds score!”
“Kiramman’s done it!”
“The crowd is going absolutely wild!”
Caitlyn spikes the ball in the endzone out of pure elation. She lets out a guttural roar and points to the cameras as her teammates clash into her, knocking her to the ground. Their bodies pile on top of her and it’s in these moments of pride and shared joy does Caitlyn start to feel whole again.
“What a spectacular display of athleticism and tenacity!”
“QB1 is taking Twin City all the way this year, Tom. Mark my words.”
She had everything. And that included nothing.
“Runeterra to Caitlyn,” Ezreal says in a singsongy voice.
“Caitlyn…” Mel tries next. Her two teammates suddenly shuffle into her line of vision.
Caitlyn sighs, setting down the plastic cup she was absentmindedly swirling around with the tips of her fingertips. “What?”
“Stop thinking about the game,” Ezreal says as he runs a hand through his blonde hair and lets out a soft sigh. His muscled arm reaches for the bottle of vodka sitting off to the side of the bar top. Ezreal, Caitlyn’s tight-end, is the hype-man of the team and life of the party. And also Caitlyn’s loudest housemate.
“That cornerback was quick. He nearly had—” Caitlyn starts, frowning at Ezreal’s words.
“— he didn’t have shit,” Mel, Caitlyn’s wide-receiver, interrupts, taking a gulp from her cup. Being Caitlyn’s number one target, she knows Caitlyn well. Over the past three years, she’s learned to read Caitlyn. Mel knows what Caitlyn’s going to do before she does it and vice versa. On and off the field.
She also knows Caitlyn tends to dwell on her mistakes.
“If anything, you should be blaming me, Ace. I let that linebacker get in your face,” Darius laments, dropping his gaze into his plastic cup. Darius, Caitlyn's left tackle, is the biggest guy on the team…and Caitlyn’s glad for it. He protects her blindside after all.
“And you still floated it into my hands,” Mel adds, offering a small smile.
“—so stop brooding,” Ezreal says, lifting the bottle and filling up Caitlyn’s cup.
Caitlyn sighs and lets out a small thank you to Ezreal. She takes a swig of her drink and nearly chokes. “Good Gods,” she sputters, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.
Mel, Darius, and Ezreal snicker at the reaction.
“Ez, the rookies can make a better drink than this,” Caitlyn says when her breathing returns to normal.
Ezreal scoffs, taking another drink.
Caitlyn feels the alcohol ease the ache in her muscles. Despite the tension dissipating throughout her body, Caitlyn can’t seem to stop focusing on the mistakes she made. There’s too much on the line this year…
“Relax, Kiramman. We won. Now, go enjoy yourself,” he says, pulling Caitlyn from her thoughts. He turns his body to face the horde of undergraduate students, some graduate students, and teammates crowded in the middle of Caitlyn’s living room. He gently jerks his head towards the mass of people wordlessly saying c’mon.
Caitlyn peers over her cup and scans the lot. There’s a few girls here she’s already taken to bed over the years. But there’s no animosity there. They all have an understanding. One night with Caitlyn Kiramman, QB1 for TCC Hounds, the Ace, is as far as most people get. Caitlyn’s not cold. Just calculated.
She’s calculated because she has to be. Because the one time she wasn’t, her mother…
Never mind that.
Caitlyn finishes her drink, enjoying the way her body feels looser under the gentle pull of alcohol invading her bloodstream.
Ezreal’s right. She needs to enjoy the party. The thoughts are getting too loud anyway.
Caitlyn sighs and pushes off the counter, heading into the crowd.
“And off she goes,” Caitlyn hears Mel say with amusement.
Some of her teammates are already completely wasted, dancing and jumping around in the middle of the room. Caitlyn surveys as she goes, like a predator to prey. But it’s not really like that. No because everyone wants to be picked by Caitlyn. Eager eyes glance in her direction.
Doey eyes. Hazy eyes. Voyeuristic eyes.
Don’t get her wrong; it’s nice to be so wanted. Everyone wants a taste of Caitlyn Kiramman, heir of Piltover and TCC’s most popular student-athlete. But Caitlyn hasn’t felt the thrill of the chase in a long time.
And no one really seems keen on getting to know her.
They already know everything they need to know, right? Caitlyn’s rich. She’s smart. She’s athletic. She has a bright future ahead of her. She’s destined for greatness. What else is there to know?
And it’s not like Caitlyn will let anyone get close, anyway.
A group of girls Caitlyn’s never seen before are huddled against the far wall, just outside of the moving, dancing bodies of their classmates. From the way they watch her approach, Caitlyn already knows how the next few hours of her life will go.
There’s three of them. One with bleach-blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, mini-skirt, and tank top, another with skin-tight leggings, heels, crop-top, long brunette hair and one with black hair and matching black outfit. Caitlyn briefly considers a four-some.
“Hi,” Caitlyn says in her famously sultry accent to the bleach-blonde.
She can see the girl visibly straighten. “Hi. You’re Caitlyn, right?”
“I am. And who are you?”
“I’m…I can be whoever you want me to be,” the girl says, not-so-subtly blinking her eyelids at Caitlyn.
Alright then. She usually has to try and chase a little bit harder than this, but Caitlyn’s tired. She’ll take it.
“Let’s go then,” Caitlyn says, leaning in and whispering into the girl’s ear, sucking lightly on her earlobe. She can feel the girl shudder at the touch. She nods eagerly.
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.
Caitlyn groans, the sound of her cellphone vibrating against the wood of her nightstand waking her. Caitlyn tries to extend an arm, only for it to be caught underneath something heavy and warm.
“Wha–” Caitlyn mumbles, cracking an eye open. The blonde from last night is cuddled into her side, naked and snoozing peacefully. Her leg is draped over Caitlyn’s, her arm across her abdomen. Her blonde hair tickles Caitlyn’s face. It smells like roses and something entirely too sweet.
Caitlyn frees herself. Well, her upper body that is. Enough to reach the phone that’s still buzzing. Caitlyn answers it without opening her eyes.
“‘Ello?” Caitlyn speaks into the phone.
“Kiramman!” a raspy voice on the other end blares into her ear. Caitlyn winces, pulling the phone away from her ear for a second at the assault on her tympanic membrane.
“Coach, hey,” Caitlyn says, coming more into full consciousness.
“Hay is for the stable of horses you begged your mother for when you turned fifteen.”
Caitlyn winces at the mention of her mother. It’s none of your godsdamn business, Caitlyn reflexively thinks. She bites her tongue instead and works her jaw. “To what do I owe this pleasure, then?” Caitlyn says in a low voice.
“I’m looking at your score report, Caitlyn,” Coach Grayson says, tone flat.
“Score report– what are you talking about?”
“Your mechanical engineering midterm from Friday. You failed.”
Caitlyn scoffs, her annoyance falling way to the uncomfortable swirling in her stomach. The uneasy twisting she feels in her gut at the word failure. Caitlyn works hard to avoid it. At all costs. Caitlyn’s too proud to admit that she’s afraid of it. And sure, it might be borderline-childish, but it’s really not her fault.
Caitlyn’s organized. She’s detail-oriented. She’s obsessive. She’s no-nonsense about nonsense. And unfortunately for her, mechanical engineering is nonsense. Even more unfortunate is that mechanical engineering was the only introductory STEM course that had availability.
How she and her advisor missed that she needed one STEM requirement for her degree is beyond her. Caitlyn chalks it up to the pressure she’s under. From her coaches, from her father, hells, from society, from herself.
So, did she have choice words with her advisor when she found the error? Yes.
Did she threaten to pull the Kiramman money from the school? Yes.
Did her brother, Jayce, tell her she was overreacting? Yes.
And is Caitlyn dealing with someone else’s mistake and now taking mechanical engineering 101? Yes.
All unfortunate yes’s.
This season is supposed to be Caitlyn’s golden season. The one where she gets the National Championship ring on her finger. This year is the year Caitlyn gets into Ionia Law. The year she makes good on her promise to her mother. This is the year that Caitlyn has it all.
It’s her year, godsdammit.
It has to be.
Because if it’s not…
Caitlyn shakes her head, pushing those thoughts down into the box where they belong.
Damn it all to hell if mechanical engineering is going to get in the way of that.
“Your tutor should be there in 30 minutes–” Caitlyn hears Coach Grayson say next, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts.
“What?!” Caitlyn says exasperated.
“She doesn’t normally do one-on-one tutoring–” Grayson says, as if Caitlyn hadn’t said anything.
“Coach–”
“But Dr. Heimerdinger promised me she’s the brightest pupil in the department so please, Caitlyn, take it seriously,” her coach says, ignoring Caitlyn’s attempts at protesting.
“Coach. It’s…” Caitlyn pulls the phone away from her ear to check the time. Shit, it’s later than she thought. “It’s 10:30AM on a Sunday. Why would you send a tutor right now?”
“Caitlyn,” is all Grayson says. Caitlyn knows that tone. It’s dismissal. She’s heard it over the years, long before Grayson became her coach, when she was just a family friend.
Grayson sighs on the other side of the line when Caitlyn doesn’t respond. “I’m just looking out for you, Young Kiramman.”
“I know,” Caitlyn says quietly, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“Let me know how the first session goes at practice tomorrow.”
“Of course. Thank you, Coach,” Caitlyn concedes, the rebellion dying on her tongue from her nostalgic thoughts.
“Talk soon,” Grayson says before ending the call.
Caitlyn lets out a frustrated sigh, lying back into her silk sheets. Caitlyn throws her arm over her eyes and lets her mind wander to the exam she took Friday, the game from yesterday, that day five years ago… all of her failures.
A groan escapes Caitlyn’s lips. This tutoring session better not waste my time, she thinks as she rolls over onto her side to look at…whatever her name is. Caitlyn can see the movement of her eyes underneath her closed eyelids, no doubt pretending to be asleep.
Caitlyn smirks and leans in, now desperate for a distraction and wanting to hush her already busy mind. “Round two?”
The girl giggles before opening her eyes and taking Caitlyn up on her offer.
“Fuck,” Vi groans, reaching for her phone that won’t shut the fuck up. Why she agreed to do this, she’s not sure… well, that’s not totally true.
She’s doing it for the money.
But why she doesn’t have better negotiation skills is the real question. Because why on Runeterra would Vi agree to do a private tutor session on a Sunday morning? And the girl lives in Blue Wind Courts – on the outskirts of Twin City College’s campus – where the rich students live. It’s going to take 20 minutes in itself to get there and it’s… Vi groans when she sees the time.
It’s 10:48AM.
“Great. I’m going to be late on the first day… Probably first and last day,” Vi says to herself as she rolls out of bed.
She got the call from Dr. Heimerdinger, her Principal Investigator, late Saturday night, right before her match. What Dr. Heimerdinger and what all of her colleagues, like Gert and Jhin, at TCC don’t know is that Vi is a professional…well, borderline-professional pitfighter.
They don’t need to know that’s how she supports herself. How she’s been supporting herself for the past nine years. They don’t need to know that fighting is the only way to get her mind to be quiet. Or that it gives her relief from the mental pain she feels. It keeps her sane…if she could call it that.
Plus, she’s good at it. Really fucking good. Even with the chronic pain and the aching in her joints that just doesn’t seem to go away. She’s on a winning streak. If she keeps winning like this, she’s going to go the finals. Or so Loris says…
It’s kind of the two things she’s good at. Mechanics and fighting. The two subjects just…make sense. Everything else…not so much.
She didn’t get to where she is easily. No, the path has never been easy. Being arrested at 15 and spending five fucking years in prison was not easy.
Walking down the slippery steps of Stillwater and feeling the iron clasps be released around her wrists felt surreal.
Watching the prison fade away into the mist from the aerial tramway was surreal. It took Vi a long time to not feel like she was living outside of her own body. And at 20 years of age, fresh out of prison, she wasn’t sure what she would do.
Well, that’s not entirely true. The first thing she knew she had to do was find Powder. And she did, living with Benzo and Ekko.
The reunion was tear-filled and Benzo welcomed Vi into his home without question. But it was a tight fit in an already crowded space. Benzo and Ekko lived above his shop. A two-bedroom apartment and Vi kind of hated thinking about Powder having to live here for five years without her family, without her and especially in those early transformative years.
Vi pushed that guilt down and worked endlessly to be there for her sister.
One of the first things Vi quickly learned once she was out of Stillwater was that her little sister is a genius. At the young age of fifteen, Powder was inventing and creating devices that old men white beards in the ivory towers at the Academy could only dream of.
Vi promised, not that anyone asked her to, to support her in any way she could. And to Vi, that meant making sure she went to college.
For two years, Vi worked in Benzo’s shop as a mechanic. But it was just… too crowded and it didn’t make that much money. Vi saved everything she could, but it just was never enough.
And that one fateful day when she overheard two customers talking about the amateur fighting club in the deep Fissures, Vi went down to see for herself after her shift. That’s where she met Loris and a much, much larger paycheck.
Vi got an apartment, down the road from Benzo’s, for her and Powder. It was small and still in the Fissures, but it was theirs. A place of their own. Just the two of them.
And when Powder got into Piltover Academy two years later, Vi quite literally had never been happier in her life. She was so fucking proud of her little sister. Piltover Academy, the best school in all of Runeterra, and Powder Lanes was going there. Fuck yeah.
Powder got a decent scholarship, but with what the scholarship didn’t cover, Vi was able to provide. It felt so good to be able to help her little sister like that.
With her promise kept, Vi, again, found herself wondering what to do with herself.
She likes working with her hands and fixing things. She also likes fighting and breaking things.
So she kept doing just that: fixing, fighting, and saving.
For Powder mostly.
For herself lastly.
And things were steady for a while, until Powder turned nineteen and was in her sophomore year at the Academy. Vi still gets angry when she thinks about that day. The day that Powder left without saying goodbye. She’ll keep that memory locked away as tightly as possible.
Anyway, at the age of twenty-four and her life’s purpose drifting into the ether, Vi, in her post-fight drunken state, one arm hanging loosely around Loris’ shoulder as he drags her back to her apartment, cried for the first time since…well, since she could remember.
“Why don’t you apply to Twin City?” Loris asked when Vi brokenly told him she wanted more from life.
Vi scoffed. “No one is going to want a 24-year old freshman,” Vi choked out. Her life was basically over.
“Just try,” he said.
And she did.
She aced the entrance exams. She did so well that she could skip her first year of college. Then she proceeded to take more credits a semester than recommended and aced those too. She graduated in 2 years time.
At 26, she applied to the doctoral program in mechanical engineering; Dr. Heimerdinger, head of the School of Engineering at TCC, was more than willing to accept her application.
As a gift to herself, she got a new apartment. Closer to Piltover in the Alcove District – there’s no way in hell she’d ever live in Piltover. The place is nice… bigger than the last and the Bridge of Progress is visible on clear days. Plus, the commute to school is quick. It’s perfect.
She’s in her 3rd year now, and she’s on track to finish next semester. She’s 29. And at 30, she’ll be Violet Lanes, PhD. Fuck yeah.
Vi’s a fighter. Always has been. Always will be.
Vi hops in the shower, hissing at the way the cuts all over her body sting under the spray of water. She finishes her shower in record time – not like she wanted to prolong the feeling of needles across her skin.
She rushes to dry off and quickly glances in the mirror.
Thankfully, last night she didn’t get hit in the face too much. She’s been really working on her guard. She sports a small cut under her right eye, but other than that, she’s actually quite pleased to not have a shiner right now. This girl she’s tutoring seems like the uppity type if her address is anything to go off of.
With her red hair still damp, she throws on a plain white tee, some black jeans, pair of boots, and her favorite leather jacket. She grabs her helmet and keys, tosses her laptop into her bookbag, and heads down to the garage from her top-floor apartment.
Vi starts the engine of her motorcycle, loving the feeling of it roar to life between her strong thighs. She loves this thing. She punches in the address on her phone and heads out.
Twenty minutes later, Vi pulls up to the poshest neighborhood meant for undergraduates. The brick and stone houses scream I have money alongside the perfectly manicured lawns and topiary hedges.
Vi kills the engine of her bike, opting to park on the street and not on the cobble-stoned driveway. Vi nervously checks her watch as she walks up the drive, catching the curtains moving in an upstairs window.
Once Vi's a few feet away from the exterior foyer, the massive oak doors open causing Vi stop in her tracks.
Out walks a bleach-blonde woman with disheveled hair, wrinkled shirt, mini-skirt, untied boots, and hickeys peppering over every inch of visible skin. Gods.
Behind her is a tall woman, wearing a neat, wrinkle-free, fitted jump suit with TCC embroidered on the left chest. Her dark, midnight-blue hair is up in a pony tail. Her blue eyes are piecing as she gazes out past the love-bitten woman at Vi.
Vi stares back, an unbidden warmth spreading down her spine. She’s never been one to break eye contact when she senses she’s being assessed.
The blonde-haired woman giggles as she saunters past Vi. Before she reaches the sidewalk, she calls back at the woman standing in the doorway, “call me?”
The blue-haired woman breaks eye contact with Vi, glancing behind her at the girl. She just smiles a no-teeth smile and waves. Cold.
Her attention refocuses on Vi. She cocks an eyebrow. In a posh accent that threatens to disarm Vi where she stands, she asks, “And who might you be?”
“Uh…” Vi forgets her own name for a second, stunned by this woman’s beauty. But unfortunately, she doesn’t look impressed. Vi clears her throat. “I’m Vi…”
The woman’s facial expression hasn’t changed. No, she shifts her weight to her hip and crosses her arms across her chest. Okay…
“This is 208 Blue Winds Court, right? I’m here for…” Vi says as she pulls out her phone searching for the email from Dr. Heimerdinger. Fuck, probably shouldn’t have forgotten the girl’s name… “Caitlyn…Kerman?” Vi says, glancing up from her screen.
Shit. The woman’s unimpressed look morphs into a look of downright offense. “It’s Kiramman,” she says through a clenched jaw and still not moving from her position in the doorway.
Is she going to let me in or not? Vi thinks. “Right…uh, nice to meet —” Vi starts to say.
“— you’re late,” Caitlyn interrupts.
Vi scoffs. “From the looks of it, seems like you were busy anyways,” Vi bites back and gestures behind her, referencing the woman who just stumbled out of the house clearly just having had sex.
“That’s none of your business. You were told 11AM. It’s now…” Caitlyn pulls out her phone to check the time, “11:17. Is this the sort of professionalism from the engineering department–”
“Look, princess. You can certainly tattle on me all you want or you can loosen up a little and let me come in and teach you something,” Vi says, interrupting Caitlyn. Vi doesn’t know what it is about this woman, but Vi’s usual professional filter is slipping.
Having spent the majority of the last five years on TCC’s campus – granted, she never really ventures far from it into Piltover itself – she’s had time to work on her Piltovan decorum…as much as she hates it.
Caitlyn scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous–”
“What’s ridiculous is a 60% on the first exam,” Vi interjects again. The look of shock flickers across Caitlyn’s features before her brows furrow and the corners of her lips downturn. Shit.
“That’ll be all. Thank you,” Caitlyn says tersely and slams the door in Vi’s face.
Fuck. This is not going well. And Caitlyn’s right which is the annoying part. She was unprofessional by not being on time. She had hoped the little playful challenge would work… and it didn’t. For someone who just fucked, she sure is wound tight.
Vi sighs. As much as she wants to fucking leave this privileged girl, she can’t. She promised Dr. Heimerdinger. And if anything, Vi’s a woman of her word. Vi swallows the large lump of pride in her throat and takes a step forward.
Vi knocks.
Caitlyn opens the door immediately with a smug look on her face as if she was waiting for Vi to cave first. This girl…
“Look, I’m sorry. Truly. I was late and it was unprofessional of me and it won’t happen again,” Vi says, mustering as much sincerity as she can. Happy now?
Caitlyn smirks at her, reading between the lines. She steps to the side. “Come in, Vi.”
Caitlyn considers herself a prepared person. She’s never caught off guard because she’s already played out every scenario. Ran through every possible outcome. She has foresight. It’s what makes her so lethal as a quarterback and future lawyer.
And for the first time in Caitlyn’s recent memory, she’s unprepared. She’s unprepared for how absolutely, insanely, inexplicably hot Vi, her tutor, is.
Was she actually upset that Vi was late? A little.
Was she more reacting to seeing the hottest butch she’s ever laid eyes on and it came out as bratty? Yes. Definitely. Never mind that she completely butchered her name…that she completely forgot her name, for crying out loud.
Vi walks past her as she holds the door open into the foyer of her home. Caitlyn catches the faintest hint of her scent. Something earthy and fresh. And all Caitlyn wants to do is get closer to this woman.
She watches her run a hand through her hair, fluffing it up to undo some of the dampening from her motorcycle helmet. She shrugs off her jacket and Caitlyn’s heart, already doing cartwheels, is now high-jumping into her throat because – shit, Caitlyn thinks as she unabashedly drinks in the sight of Vi’s arm muscles and tattoos that cover the expanse of her visible skin.
Vi slowly takes in the room, it’s just the foyer, but still, she lets out a low whistle. “Shit, this place yours?” she asks.
Caitlyn clears her throat and wills her voice to be steady before she speaks next. “Mhm,” she settles for.
Vi cocks an eyebrow up as she finishes her in-place spin around the room, her grey eyes meeting Caitlyn’s. “There a place I can put this?” Vi asks, lifting up her leather jacket.
Right. Caitlyn clears her throat. “There’s a coat closet,” Caitlyn says, pointing to a wooden door to the left of the entryway.
“Thanks,” Vi says softly and walks over to the closet with a confident grace Caitlyn can’t help but notice.
“I rent it out to a few teammates,” Caitlyn finds herself saying.
“What?” Vi asks as she finishes hanging up her jacket and turning back to face Caitlyn.
“I– I don’t live here alone, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Caitlyn explains. In truth, the house was always Caitlyn’s from the day she was born. A property, a part of her trust fund, transferred to her ownership when she entered college. An entire manor to herself. It’s not as large as the Kiramman Estate, thankfully. Blue Winds Court is for the progeny of Piltover’s elite as they gallivant through college, always having a safe place to lay their golden crowns at night.
When Caitlyn made QB1 her freshman year, she offered up her place to a few of her teammates – Steb, Mel, Ezreal, Darius, and Camille. The house is big enough that they all have their separate rooms… So even though Caitlyn sometimes doesn’t see them unless they’re at practice, just knowing they’re there makes it feel less…lonely.
And of course, there were rumors that Caitlyn had bought her way onto the TCC football team, but she quickly crushed those, leading the Hounds to winning seasons every year. Yet, somehow they never quite made it past the first round in the playoff. That’s why this year is so crucial.
She has to win.
“I…” Vi starts, but then she frowns slightly, “teammates?”
This gets Caitlyn to raise her own eyebrows and squint at the woman standing in her foyer. Is she being serious?
“Are you joking?” Caitlyn asks, folding her arms across her chest.
Vi matches her frown. “No?” she says as if offended that Caitlyn’s offended.
Caitlyn scoffs, playfully – or so she hopes. “I – I’m on the football team…” is all Caitlyn says.
Vi’s facial expression softens as her eyebrows unfurrow. “No shit. What position?”
She has to be joking. “Quarterback,” Caitlyn answers.
Vi chuckles then. “That explains the bossiness.”
“Excuse me–” Caitlyn tries, but Vi speaks again.
“So, where do you wanna do this?” she asks, bringing a hand to rub the back of her neck as if she’s nervous – maybe afraid that she overstepped again. Caitlyn smirks at her. Maybe she shouldn’t get so much enjoyment out of watching Vi squirm, but she’s only human.
“We can go to the library,” Caitlyn says as she starts heading towards the adjoining living room that leads to the hallway that will take them to the library.
“Oh. We could have just met there,” Vi says, heading towards the coat closet.
“No,” Caitlyn says, her words halting Vi’s progress, “I…we have a library here. It’s just down the hall.” Caitlyn watches Vi’s reaction to her words. She can’t really read her face, but she does see the muscles in Vi’s jaw flex. “What? No sassy comment?”
Vi’s throat bobs up and down. “No… I definitely do, but uh… this is actually just…” Vi clears her throat. “You have a really nice place, Caitlyn,” she says.
The way Vi says it is so sincere and Caitlyn’s heart softens.
Caitlyn leads them to the library. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. There’s even a spiral staircase leading to a second-story loft. It’s cozy up there. It’s one of Caitlyn’s favorite places in the house.
There’s a few desks in here, one for each of her housemates. A pair of armchairs surround a chesterfield couch in front of the white-stoned fireplace.
Caitlyn walks up to her designated desk and turns on her computer. She pulls up a chair for Vi.
“Can I get you anything?” Caitlyn asks as Vi sits down in the chair and pulls out her laptop.
“No, all good. Thanks, though,” Vi answers. Caitlyn nods and sits down in her chair, glancing over at Vi as she stares at her laptop. Her eyes track down Vi’s body. From the shaved side of her hair, to the tattoo on her neck, the piercings in her ears and nose, the tattooed muscles that flex with every movement of Vi’s fingers across the keyboard, this woman is absolutely stunning.
And then Vi turns, her grey eyes staring into her own, expectantly. Caitlyn glances down at her full lips, cataloguing the scar on her upper lip.
“Caitlyn?” Vi asks.
Hm? Oh. Shit, what was she saying? “Sorry…what was that?” Caitlyn tries to recover smoothly. She can’t remember the last time another person has had this much of an effect on her.
Vi’s eyebrows come together slightly. “I figured we could go over the exam, walk through the questions you missed, what your thought process was, and we can review key concepts… does that sound okay?”
“Yes,” Caitlyn says, pleading to herself to focus on the words coming off of Vi’s tongue and not her plump, extremely kissable lips. Focus, Kiramman.
Two hours have never gone by faster. They finish reviewing the exam. Vi explains each question to a level of detail Caitlyn had certainly never known. And despite being distracted by the undeniable attraction Caitlyn has for the woman, it was an incredibly helpful tutor session.
“So why are you taking this class?” Vi asks as she shuts down her computer and starts packing up her bag.
“Oh, er…I have to. I’m concentrating in political science and I need one STEM course as a requirement,” Caitlyn says.
“Ah, waited until the last minute, huh?” Vi says, zipping up her bag and sending Caitlyn a wink.
Caitlyn huffs, “I did not.”
Vi raises an eyebrow as if to say you can’t fool me.
“Well…it wasn’t quite like that. It was…just an unfortunate…oversight,” Caitlyn stammers.
Vi chuckles softly. “I wouldn’t say it’s unfortunate.”
From the heat flooding Caitlyn’s cheeks, she knows Vi can see how her words affected Caitlyn. Caitlyn clears her throat, trying to recover for the second time today. “And what about you?”
“What about me?” Vi asks, sitting back in her chair a little, getting more comfortable rather than making a move to leave even though she’s packed up and ready to go.
“Why mechanical engineering? I mean, you certainly don’t look like–” and Caitlyn cuts herself off, realizing how horrible the words she said must have sounded. Because Vi doesn’t look like anyone she’s ever seen before in her life. Certainly not any Piltovan and definitely not like any Zaunite she’s ever met. Vi’s beautiful, handsome, unique, smart.
Gods is she smart.
Every engineer Caitlyn’s ever met were Jayce’s – her brother, 10 years her senior, who owns Talis Industries (“engineering the frontier of progress!” as he would say) – employees. All uptight, holier-than-thou intellectuals. Vi’s not like that.
“Like I’m an engineer?” Vi bites out, clearly misinterpreting Caitlyn’s words. She stands abruptly, causing the chair to screech across the wooden floor, and slings her bookbag over her shoulder.
“No! No, that’s not what I meant,” Caitlyn says, standing too.
Vi hums, no longer making eye contact with Caitlyn. Vi turns, heading towards the library door. “I’ll text you to work out scheduling details. Good first session,” she says, her tone flat. And with that, Vi leaves.
Fuck.
Later that evening when Caitlyn finishes the assignments for her Democratic Theory course, she shuts down her computer.
“Done for the night?” Steb says from his desk. Steb’s her running back. Quick on his feet and his mind. He’s pre-law like Caitlyn.
“Yes. Are you almost finished?” Caitlyn asks.
“Oh yes, I finished the assignment earlier. I’m just getting a head start on the week,” he says, his eyes not leaving the screen of his computer. Caitlyn admires his work ethic. He works hard. Almost a competitor to Caitlyn. Almost.
“See you at practice,” Caitlyn says as she passes by his desk.
“Night, Cap,” Steb says.
It’s been a long weekend. The unexpected change in Caitlyn’s meticulous schedule has thrown her off. Besides the upheaval in routine, Vi was…is so appealing to Caitlyn that the minute she left the manor, she was all Caitlyn could think about for the rest of the day.
Even now, as she lays in bed, her sheets still smelling like last night’s conquest, Vi is running through her mind. Caitlyn turns her bedside lamp off and closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath, trying to silent her extremely loud thoughts.
After twenty minutes of tossing and turning, Caitlyn lets out a frustrated sigh.
“Shit,” she breathes into the silence of her room. She knows what usually gets her mind to turn off. And, if she’s being honest, she’s thought about doing this the second Vi started her motorcycle and roared off down the street.
Caitlyn reaches a hand down between her silk pajama shorts, cupping herself where she’s been aching all day. She lets out a small sigh in anticipation. She teases herself, her fingers staying atop her panties, just applying pressure in slow, lazy circles.
Is it wrong to touch herself at the thought of her new tutor? What Vi doesn’t know won’t hurt her…right?
Her heart starts to beat a little faster as she imagines Vi’s hand down her shorts. Her hips buck upward into her palm at the thought. A soft “ah” escapes Caitlyn’s lips. She feels guilty. But dammit, it feels so good.
She plays with the edges of her panties, wondering if Vi would take it slow or fast. Would she tease her or be merciful? “Shit,” Caitlyn breathes as she slips one finger into her warm and already wet folds.
Just as she’s about to trail up to her clit, dragging the wetness from her center, her phone lights up on the bedside table, buzzing twice. Caitlyn groans in frustration, withdrawing her hand.
Unknown [21:36]
hey it’s Vi
Caitlyn’s heart rate picks up again.
what’s ur schedule look like this week?
Caitlyn tries to respond but another message comes in before she gets a chance.
i hold TA sessions 5-7PM on Wednesdays. can u start making it to those?
Caitlyn [21:37]
I have practice 3-6PM M - F, so no.
Caitlyn smirks to herself, thinking about how Vi reacted to her “bossiness” earlier. It was fun watching her squirm and grovel — more than either one probably cares to admit.
It’s a gamble to outright reject Vi’s proposal. Caitlyn can’t help it. She wants to see what she does with that. Wants to make her work for it.
Caitlyn bites her bottom lip and saves her number.
Caitlyn watches the three “typing” dots appear at the bottom of her screen. They disappear. Then reappear. Then disappear. Caitlyn waits, growing nervous as time goes on. Maybe she did push too far…
Then, Vi responds in a rapid fashion.
Vi Tutor [21:53]
come after. 8-9PM on Wednesdays.
gives u time to shower and eat after practice.
Bolbok Hall (the engineering building), rm 1201
text me if u need help finding it
Partially shocked because no one talks to Caitlyn this way, Caitlyn shakes her head, the corner of her lips pulling upward.
Caitlyn [21:54]
Bossy.
Vi Tutor [21:54]
u like it
Caitlyn doesn’t respond because what the hell? She definitely does like it.
But at the same time, she’s definitely not panicking at the fact her tutor is flirting with her and definitely not plunging her hand back down her shorts.
Another message comes through.
Vi Tutor [22:01]
u can thank me when you ace the next exam 🤘
Caitlyn giggles. Actually fucking giggles. What has gotten into her?
Caitlyn [22:02]
Promise?
Vi Tutor [22:03]
it’s the Vi-guarantee 🫡
Caitlyn [22:03]
🙄
Vi laughs at the message.
Caitlyn sets her phone down with a smile on her face, thinking that Vi’s right. It’s not unfortunate that Caitlyn missed the scheduling error.
And with no more thoughts about routines, schedules, or deadlines, Caitlyn finishes what she started. She comes on her fingers with images of Vi in her head.