Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Setting: Violet and Powder’s house

“No. No.” Powder waves Violet’s hands away. 

She paces back and forth, stopping occasionally to run her hands through her short blue hair or curse. 

“Come on, I've seen what she can do. She’s beautiful, smart, and fast. Plus she used to work for the CIA. She must have a shitload of tricks up her sleeve.” 

Powder shakes her head. “First of all, I can’t work with you if you’re gonna fall in love with all your partners. And second, after what happened with Sarah, I don’t think we can afford to have another person on the team right now,” she huffs. “Plus,” she adds, pointing to Caitlyn’s profile, “she’s an ex-government official. She will never agree to be your lackey for crime purposes.” Powder says matter-of-factly. 

“Well, it's not technically a crime, if we're just stealing items that weren't even theirs to begin with.” Violet points out. 

“It's still theft, Vi.. Our debt is astronomical, and we need to stay focused.”

Violet leans back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Come on, Pow, you know I always find a way to make it work,” she says with a grin. “And as for Caitlyn, well, everyone's got a price. We just need to figure out hers.” 

Powder rolls her eyes. “You're impossible, Vi. Always looking for the next scheme.” She fiddles with her ring, her resolve slowly faltering.

“Hey, it's not like we have much of a choice, do we? We either adapt and survive or get left behind. I’m meeting her tonight.” Powder sighs, realizing her determination isn’t going to waver. 

"Fine, but if this blows up in our faces like the last time, I am going to make sure you’re celibate for the rest of your life. I’m serious, Violet.” 

“Full names? Oh you’re serious.”

“Vi!”

Trust me, Pow, this time will be different.”

Chapter Text

At just twenty-three years old, Caitlyn Kiramman stood at the height of her dreams, poised to become the top government agent of her company. 

Had her parents been still alive, they would be beaming with pride when tomorrow, Caitlyn would win the awards and the position that she’d been working toward her whole life. 

Her future had been meticulously crafted by her parents before they died, a path paved with determination, sacrifice, and commitment. Eight years of mentally excruciating training at a top-notch boarding school, plus juggling regular school with a 4.0 GPA and gymnastics, molded her into a force to be reckoned with—“ a prodigy in the making ”, they said. After graduating both boarding school and regular high school, she immediately joined the CIA per her parents instructions, and the rest was history. 

As Caitlyn and her co-workers sit around in the training room, everyone doing their own thing, their walkie talkies crackle to life.

“ All agents report to the briefing room. NOW. ” There was no meeting scheduled for that day. 

The atmosphere inside the briefing room was tense. As Caitlyn sits amongst her fellow agents, her heart hammers against her ribcage, each thump reverberating through her skull. 

Director Valerica DeRoux stood at the head of the room in all her glory. Long red hair pulled back into a tight bun, her steely gray eyes sweeping over the crowd. 

“Agents,” she begins, her voice commanding attention, stifling every bit of hushed conversation. “Today marks a catalyst in our efforts to fight terrorism and protect our nation. Every one of you has undergone extensive training, shaping your skills to perfection. But as we all know, the true test of an agent lies not in their abilities on the field, but in their judgment and integrity.” 

Caitlyn straightened in her seat. Everyone knows how hard she’s worked and now, she will be recognized, finally. This was it—the culmination of all her hard work and dedication. 

“Unfortunately,” she declares, drawing out her words. “Not all of you have proven yourselves worthy of the trust placed upon you,” she says, her voice hardening. “It has come to our attention—her attention that a breach of protocol has occurred. A breach that jeopardizes not only the safety of our agents, but also the integrity of this organization. The president puts her trust in us, and we can not fail her,” she says, punching her syllables, “we cannot fail the people.” 

Caitlyn’s heart sinks like a brick in water, all the color draining from her face as the weight of the director’s words settle upon her. 

Shit. Shit . 

She glances around the room, a sea of solemn faces staring back at her. And then she looks back at the director, and her face is devoid of any emotion besides anger. At that moment, she knew. 

They think I’m responsible for the breach.

“Agent Kiramman,” DeRoux says, her voice a low rumble that echoes in the silence of the room, “You have been found guilty of gross negligence and a blatant disregard for protocol. Effective immediately, you are relieved of your duties as a government agent. Turn in your belongings by the end of the day.” 

Hushed whispers reverberate all around her as she sits like a stone, horror painted on her face. 

This can't be happening—not to me, not after everything I have sacrificed to get here. She ruminated, desperately threading her hands through her dark blue hair.

This must be a mistake. But the director isn’t finished. With an unreadable expression on her stone-cold face, she walks over to Caitlyn, her heels clacking against the hardwood, and plucks the lanyard from around Caitlyn’s neck, the familiar weight of it slipping from her grasp: like sand through her fingers. 

“Effective immediately, you are no longer under government protection,” she continues, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “You will vacate your government-issued housing and surrender all government property in your possession such as your badge, keys, weapons, case files, and your ID. Any attempts to resist or evade these instructions will be met with appropriate legal action.” 

Everyone is looking at Caitlyn, trying to see if she would react. Normally, she’s good with a poker face, especially in the field. But, today, everyone can see the heavy tears welling in her eyes. Like a stab to the gut, one of her fellow officers steps forward, eyes locked on the ground, and holds out a sheet of paper.

“You will sign this NDA, or face immediate arrest for failure to cooperate and the spreading of classified information.” 

With trembling hands, she takes the pen and scrawls her signature across the dotted line, a single tear falling onto the paper. DeRoux’s gaze softens for just a moment, and then, as quickly as it happens, it’s gone. 

“You may leave now, Agent Ki—Caitlyn, and be sure to leave the rest of your stuff in my office.” 

Caitlyn turns to leave, but then looks back, the tears finally poking their way through, and everyone can see her cry. 

“This has to be a mistake, I would never…” is all she can muster as fat, heavy tears begin rolling down her flushed cheeks.

“You can see yourself out now, Caitlyn,” DeRoux says with a curt nod, her lips pressed together. 

And as she turns to leave the office, her high-heeled boots echoing hollowly against the sterile floors, there is no going back. She is no longer Agent Kiramman— just Caitlyn. Ouch. It felt like a slice in the heart, like spitting on the accolades lining her walls. She never thought she’d ever just be called Caitlyn. The name sounded different now. Another faceless civilian, stripped of her rank and her purpose, cast out from everything she’d ever known. 

Outside, the world is bathed in the harsh light of day, the sun glaring down on the bustling streets of California. It doesn’t seem happy though. The warmth of the sun was a juxtaposition to Caitlyn’s grim feelings. She stands there for a moment, gazing at the towering apartments and skyscrapers that once used to be the landmarks of her former life, a sense of nostalgia washes over her. The familiar aroma of the coffee, the hustle and bustle of city life, and the monuments that stand tall represent her very history and pride. It’s no longer her world, no longer her home. 

Sure, she was a proud Ionian, but since her parents died, the rope connecting her to the culture had been violently severed. Though she knew a piece of her would always be attached to Ionia, for as long as she could remember, her new city, California was all she had. And now, unemployed, friendless, orphaned, and heartbroken, she had absolutely nothing.

With a heavy heart and a lump in her throat, Caitlyn hails a taxi and drives away from everything she has ever known. 

𓇢𓆸

“Yes, yes, you have very credible recommendations, Ms. Kiramman,” The lady—Karlie Maddon—says, riffling through the folder Caitlyn brought her. 

Her accent is sharp and clipped, her sleek black hair is in a tight ponytail that cascades down her slender frame, and her perfect nails are painted a fiery red that matches her lips. Ms. Maddon sits behind a large mahogany desk, the luxurious sights of a beautiful London winter behind the expansive glass window. 

As she continues to peruse the documents, Caitlyn shifts nervously in her seat and checks her watch. 3:30 PM. The job as a bodyguard for this actress could be her redemption ticket, a chance to prove that despite her past mistakes, she still has what it takes to protect and serve. 

The actress in question is Mel Merdarda, known to the world as one of Hollywood’s new stars. Mel had starred in several blockbuster hits, some of which Caitlyn had the pleasure of watching, and Mel’s star power showed no signs of slowing down. 

Though, Caitlyn knew she needed this job more than anything. Losing her career left a void she’d been trying to fill. 

Just as she begins to daydream about standing by Mel’s side, protecting her, showing the agency that they lost their best agent, and shutting up that little voice that says she won’t make it, the phone rings, cutting through the momentary silence. She answers professionally, but her expression shifts subtly as she listens to the voice on the other end. 

“Yes, yes, I understand.” Silence. “I….oh no, that’s unfortunate,” she says, chewing the inside of her mouth. 

As she sits there, her fingers instinctively start to pick at her skin, a nervous habit that she can't seem to shake. Each passing second feels like an eternity until finally, Karlie sets the phone down on the table in front of her. Her lips pressed tightly together, forming a thin, forced smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. It’s a sickly sweet you-didn’t-get-the-job-but-I-feel-bad smile. Folding her hands together, she sighs. 

“Unfortunately, you didn’t get the job, but you were a strong contender,” She offers, taking a small sip of diet tea. “I wish you well, Ms. Kiramman.” 

“Thank you, Ms. Maddon,” Caitlyn says, holding herself together. In reality, she wants to curl into a ball. Caitlyn closes the door to her office, grabs her suitcase from beside the door, and security escorts her out. As the door shuts behind her, it feels like déjà vu. London seems like California at the moment, and she’s just a girl who failed at her dreams once more. 

After she gets off the third bus, she starts to weave her way through the crowded London streets. A thick blanket of dark cobalt blue intertwined with plump grey clouds rests overhead. Caitlyn checks her watch again, exhausted. 6:15. She takes a large gulp from her flask. Dancing snowflakes slowly retreat from the overfilled clouds down to the icy ground. The winter London weather is nippy, the frigid air piercing through her thick layers. Caitlyn can see her breath, snaking out in thin tendrils in front of me. her boots crunch on the snow-covered cobblestone as she makes her way to her hotel. She’s not paying attention, her mind anywhere but reality.

She drinks another gulp of Old Fashioned, wincing as the burning sensation trickled down her throat. Caitlyn wasn’t a heavy drinker. Yes, she drank occasionally during work parties, and she was drinking now. But it wasn’t to get drunk, just to forget her miserable existence for a minute.

As she reaches the lobby, her heart is still racing with adrenaline and her head buzzing from the alcohol. “Room for one, please? The name on the card is Caitlyn.” 

The woman at the front desk doesn’t want to be here. Caitlyn can tell from the way she twists her blue and pink streaked hair around her slender fingers, sighing every few seconds. 

“Caitlyn…nice name. Let me check to see if we’re booked,” she says, pursing her lips and blowing a bubble with her fruity gum. She taps at her computer with one hand, the other playing with her name tag—reading the name Powder in blocky bold letters—as it loads. “You’re lucky we’re not booked. Caitlyn K. Room 13, floor 2.” 

“Thank you…er…Powder.” 

Powder smiles back—insincerely of course—immediately going back to her phone.

In the cramped elevator, there is already a woman standing there. Caitlyn can see tufts of bright pink hair peeking out from under her Metallica hoodie. The woman doesn’t seem to notice Caitlyn as she taps her feet, waiting for her floor. When the door opens, as she leaves, the woman accidentally bumps into Caitlyn, spraying both their things across the floor.

“Shit!” The woman exclaims, removing her hood and headphones and scrambling to pick up the fallen belongings.

Great. What an amazing way to finish my day . Caitlyn kneels to the ground, shoving her items in her purse as quickly as she can. 

“I’m so sorry,” the woman says, turning to Caitlyn finally. She was gorgeous, nothing like any woman Caitlyn had ever seen. She had beautiful, full lips, a tiny scar beside her cupid’s bow. She had freckles that lightly peppered her neck, eyes and cheeks. And her eyes. They were a perfect shade of steely gray, with a powdery blue hue. They seemed to sparkle under the fluorescent light, as if to enchant Caitlyn. She also had a tattoo on her face, right under her right eye. Roman numerals. VI . Caitlyn wonders what it means.

“You’re fine.”

“No, seriously, I feel so bad.”

Her voice was mellifluous, a lilting, low husk that probably swept most women off their feet. It was already working.

Caitlyn offers a thin-lipped smile, standing up and brushing off her clothes. 

Seriously, Caitlyn. She thinks. You lost your job and are basically homeless. Keep it together. 

“I mean it, you’re okay. My name is Caitlyn, by the way.” She says matter-of-factly, like it’s something the woman still kneeling on the ground should know. 

The woman nods, standing up and handing Caitlyn something she had forgotten on the ground.

Putting the item into her bag, Caitlyn looks up and the beautiful stranger is gone.

What the fuck? She pondered, unlocking her room door and sinking to the ground in self-pity. She cries there, alone for a solid fifteen minutes, still clutching her bag, until she shoves it off her lap to better wallow in her self depreciation.

A leathery wallet thunks out of her bag onto the floor in front of her.

Sniffling, she brushes the tears away and grabs the wallet. She quickly flips it open, expecting to find some cash, credit cards, maybe some identification for whomever the thing belonged to. But instead, she finds a single sheet of paper with an ominous note scrawled across it. 

Meet me in the clock tower at midnight. I have a job you might be interested in. And bring my wallet with you.  

Caitlyn read the note over and over again. 

Despite the ominous nature of the note, Caitlyn can’t resist the temptation. She folded the note and carefully tucked it back into the worn leather wallet. 

As midnight approached, Caitlyn found herself unable to sit still. She paced back and forth in the dimly lit hotel room, the soft ticking of the clock counting down the hours. 

This is the most ridiculous thing ever, Caitlyn thought to herself. Here she was, preparing to go on what could only be described as a wild goose chase based on a random, cryptic, stupid note found in a random wallet that belonged to a random person in London. Every sinapse in her brain was screaming at her to just toss the note and go to bed. But still, despite every alarm bell in her brain, she changes into dark clothes as her fingers deftly gather the strands of her long, shiny blue hair, twisting them into a makeshift ponytail that she secure with an elastic band. 

Caitlyn checks her watch again, 11:30. With a final swig of her water bottle to quench her thirst and calm her nerves, Caitlyn approaches the window of her hotel room and pulls back the curtains. It’s only two feet.

The glass pane stands between her and the unknown, begging to be opened. Without hesitation, she pushes it as far as it’ll go, the cool night air rushing in to greet her like an old friend, the winter air slapping against her warm skin. 

And then, with a leap of faith, Caitlyn throws herself into the darkness, her body twisting and contorting in mid-air before landing gracefully on the ball of her toes. It’s a move she hasn't attempted in years, a reminder of the life she’d lived before. 

Pulling on a face mask, Caitlyn made her way toward Big Ben and the idiot who would change her life forever .

Chapter Text

“I don’t think she’s coming, Vi.”

“Powder. Please shut up.”

Powder raised her hands in mock surrender and turned back to the steering wheel, kicking her combat boots up onto the dash like they had all the time in the world. But Vi’s gut told her otherwise—Powder was probably right. Again.

There was no sign of the agent through the dusty windshield. The only sounds filling the air were the soft hum of the idling engine and the occasional string of conversation as strangers wandered past under the flickering streetlamps. The night stretched on, quiet and thick with tension.

Vi was just about to call it quits when something caught her eye—a swish of dark blue hair in the rearview mirror. Her eyes snapped to the figure across the street. The woman had her back turned, shoulders squared, black coat stiff in the gentle breeze. But what gave her away was the weathered, leather wallet clenched in one pale, slender hand.

Vi’s hand was already on the door handle.

“It’s her.”

She stepped out into the cold night, boots crunching softly against gravel. As if sensing her presence, the woman spun around. For a moment, her eyes scanned the area, sharp and quick, like a trained predator. Then her gaze locked onto Vi. There was no flicker of recognition—not yet. 

Vi lowered her hoodie slowly.

Recognition bloomed.

Caitlyn’s eyes widened in disbelief. She glanced left, then right, then crossed the street with swift, determined strides, stopping a few feet from Vi.

She’s hot when she’s angry, Vi thought, before shoving the idea aside.

Caitlyn looked like she hadn’t aged a day since they last crossed paths. Dark navy hair underneath a black Reputation backwards cap, pulled into a tight, no-nonsense ponytail, every strand in place. Her blue eyes were cutting through the dark, glowing faintly in the silver half-light. Her lips, plush, glistening and perfectly pink, were drawn into a tight pout—possibly the prettiest pout Vi had ever seen.

“It’s you?” Caitlyn asked, incredulous. “From the elevator?”

“In the flesh.”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed, suspicion bristling like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.

“Is this your idea of a practical joke? I work for the government. I could have you arres—”

“You don’t,” Vi cut in. “Not anymore. You were let go, remember? Budget cuts, internal restructuring... whatever excuse they gave. Point is, you’re no longer playing for them. But we have a job, and we need you.”

Caitlyn blinked. “We?”

“Yeah,” Powder chimed in, climbing out of the car and landing with a thud. “The we being me and Vi. And like she said, we need your help. It’s a heist. Your kind of heist. And you don’t really have a choice.”

Caitlyn took a step back, crossing her arms. “Okay. Hold on. You two maniacs—who I don’t know—want me to drop everything and help you with some half-baked criminal scheme? No plan, no details, no time to think? I may be unemployed, but I’m not stupid. I don’t even know your names.”

“I’m Vi,” She huffs, pointing to herself. “That’s my sister, Powder. You can get to know us on the way,” Vi said, glancing at her watch. “Tick-tock.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Caitlyn snapped. “This is absolutely fucking in sane . Did either of you ever hear the phrase ‘stranger danger’ growing up?”

“Get in the car,” Powder sighed, exasperated. “We’ve been over this.”

Caitlyn hesitated. Her brain screamed to walk away, to call someone, to run . But her feet disobeyed. Against all logic, against all instinct, something inside her shifted. A flicker of curiosity? Or maybe... something she couldn’t name.

She had always been a sucker for pretty girls.

Step by step, her feet moved before her mind could catch up. And before she could fully process what she was doing, Caitlyn was seated in the back of the van, the door closing behind her with a dull thud .

“This is insane. I’m going insane” she muttered.

Vi grinned, a big toothy grin, sliding into the driver’s seat. “You’ll get used to it.”

“For her sake, she better,” powder chortled.

𓇢𓆸

The van rolled through the outskirts of the city, the engine growling softly beneath them. With every bump in the road, the entire car hiked up. Thump. Thump. Thump. Powder hummed under her breath—off-key and way too cheerful for someone who was about to commit a federal offense. Vi had one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the window frame.

Caitlyn sat stiffly in the back seat, arms folded, glaring holes into the side of Vi’s head. 

She has really nice hair. Caitlyn thinks to herself. Vi’s hotter than anyone she'd ever dated. Her smile did things to Caitlyn. Things she didn’t want to think about.

“So,” she said tightly. “Are either of you going to explain what the hell is going on?”

Powder sighed heavily. “You ask way too many questions for my liking. I knew we should’ve just recruited a crackhead. Less questions, more molly.”

“Vi? Wanna clue me in?”

Vi gave a shrug. “Sure. We’re breaking into the Piltover Vault.”

Caitlyn blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard her,” Powder said, spinning around in her seat. “Piltover. Vault. Ka-boom. Easy peasy.”

Caitlyn scoffed. “That’s a high security vault. You can’t just waltz into a place like that. It’s government-protected—”

“Was,” Vi corrected. “It was government-protected. It’s been privatized for a year now. They kicked the feds out and replaced them with corporate muscle. Fancy suits and hookers. We’ve been watching them for weeks. Gaps in shifts. Lousy comms. Complacency.”

Caitlyn’s voice dropped. “Still. That’s… high-level stuff. You’d need hextech, blueprints, guard schedules, network access—”

“We’ve got all that,” Powder cut in. “We’ve got a guy. Or... well, he’s not really a guy. More like an AI. But we call him Milo.”

“Milo?”

Vi snorted. “Powder’s idea. Don’t ask.”

“I built him from scraps, and an espresso machine,” Powder said proudly. “He sounds a bit like Caesar Flickerman, but he’s brilliant. And he’s been watching Topside for months.”

“Milo’s feeding us data,” Vi continued, “but we need someone with field experience. Someone who’s wandered through high-security zones and walked out alive. That’s you.”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “Why me?”

“You’re CIA,” Vi said. “You were the best. Strategic. Stubborn as hell. You honed your craft for years in some fancy-ass school. That kind of skill doesn’t go away.”

“How do you know that?”

Vi eyes drifted to hers in the overhead mirror. “Caitlyn, I know a lot more about you than you think. And I think you’d make one hell of a partner.

Caitlyn bit the inside of her cheek, heart still pounding. It was madness. But Vi wasn’t wrong. After everything went to shit she’d felt restless. Like the part of her that used to solve puzzles and kick down doors had been shoved into a closet and padlocked.

And now here it was, knocking again.

She sighed. “Let’s say I don’t walk away and call the cops on you. What’s in the vault?”

“Hextech. A lot of it. But what we need are the drafts. Encrypted files that share the secrets, the intricacies.”

“Why do you want hextech? Technically speaking, you could just buy whatever you need.”

Vi shook her head. “See, princess, now that’s where you’re wrong. When you’re born and raised in the undercity, one could only dream of seeing enough money to buy hextech. Plus, I refuse to fund a system that directly oppresses everything underneath it.”

“Okay, but I still don’t understand why you’re stealing the tech.”

“Must we spell everything out?” Powder groaned, slapping her palm to her forehead.

“Be nice, Pow. Princess Topside has probably never had to take something in her life. So far, everything’s been given on a silver platter.”

“Fuck you. I’ve worked hard for everything I have. I got a job young to pay for school. When I graduated, I got a job with the fucking CIA. To improve my combat skills, I did gymnastics. The only thing given to me was rigorous coursework and a diploma.”

Caitlyn was halfway to tears now.

“Caitlyn I—” Vi murmured.

Caitlyn continued. “My parents’ last name didn’t do shit except get me into boarding school, and that’s only because I was offered a spot as a freshman and they paid for my tuition. If I could have what I wanted, I’d prefer my parents not have been blown up in a fucking explosion, thank you very much.”

“Cait…I’m so sorry…I didn’t know.”

Powder stayed silent, a pained expression on her face. 

“How would you?” Caitlyn whispered, a tear slowly rolling down her flushed cheeks.

They sat in silence for a long time. Long enough that Caitlyn’s sniffles quieted, and the tears dried.

“What’s the timeline?” she asked quietly.

Vi smiled. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

The van screeched into a dim underground garage. They coasted to a stop beside a rust-streaked freight elevator.

They took the lift to an abandoned factory above. It reeked of metal and mold. Stale air, paper-thin walls, exposed beams, and a giant chalkboard filled with notes, schematics, and security footage. A single red string connected a grainy photo of the Piltover Vault entrance to a myriad of other red-tacked photos—blueprints, faces of guards, and a satellite view of the complex.

Vi stepped forward and pointed to the map. “The facility has four main floors and a sublevel we’re targeting. That’s where the archive servers are. The file’s there.”

“What’s their schedule like?” Caitlyn asked, falling back into old habits.

She couldn’t lie to herself. The rush she felt at the moment was stronger than the high of any drug. She’d bet an unspeakable amount of money on that.

“One rotating guard in the west wing. Two in the server corridor. External patrol loops every fifteen minutes,” Powder answered. “Powder duped the shift logs. They think they’re fully staffed. They’re not.”

“We go in at 2:00 a.m.,” Vi said. “That gives us a ten-minute window when Pow and Milo can scramble the camera feed. After that, we’re on our own, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, princess , what would you prefer?”

“I would prefer you use my name. Caitlyn.”

“Alright, you two, less flirting, more working.”

“Vi, what about our exit?”

Powder grinned. 

The van rolled silently into Topside, headlights off, gliding along the service road. The building loomed ahead—tall, faceless, wrapped in cold steel and private security.

Powder adjusted the comms unit clamped over one ear, acrylic-adorned fingertips flying across her handheld tablet.

“Cameras scrambled. You’ve got nine minutes.”

Vi glanced at Caitlyn in the passenger seat. “Ready?”

Caitlyn loaded a sleek, matte-black sidearm with deathly precision. “You tell me.”

Vi grinned. She is so hot.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn tucked her gun into her holster as she stepped out of the van. She couldn’t help but shiver as her and Vi made their way through the cold, damp garage. 

They breached through a side utility door Milo had flagged as “in desperate need of maintenance.” It took Caitlyn three seconds and one clean kick to the lock before they were inside. 

Powder stayed in the van, running remote interference. “You guys are good now, I have a loop playing on the cameras.” Powder’s voice crackled through the comms.

Vi and Caitlyn slid through dark corridors under red emergency lighting, boots silent on vinyl floors.

“Left here,” Caitlyn whispered, checking her map. “That corridor up ahead loops to the sublevel. If they haven’t changed layout since the schematics Milo pulled…”

“Let’s hope the guards are as lazy as their security,” Vi murmured.

They reached a steel stairwell, paused, listening. No footsteps. No chatter. Nothing. The only thing that could be heard was the occasional flickering of the fluorescent lights overhead.

Caitlyn raised a hand—stop. Then signaled: Two guards. One corner. 

She pulled a tiny hex crystal from her coat—a micro-flashbang, silent but blinding. She rolled it across the polished floor, waited for the faint click as it armed.

FZZZT . A burst of blue light.

Shouts. A thud. A scream.

Vi moved fast, brutal and efficient, knocking out one stunned guard with a blow to the neck. It was the first time Caitlyn saw clothes folded while a person was wearing them. It made her pussy twitch. But they still had work to do. Caitlyn spun, dropped the other with a clean knee to the crotch, then a sharp jab into the cerebellum with her gun.

Both men slumped to the ground.

“Still got it.” Caitlyn grinned.

“That was hot,” Vi whispered.

“Save it for later,” Caitlyn chided, cheeks blooming red. “We're still on the clock.”

They reached the sublevel access—a secure biometric door.

Back in the van, Powder giggled excitedly as the machine connected to the firewall. “Showtime, Milo.” 

A heartbeat later, the door hissed open and they descended into darkness.

It was something straight out of a spy flick. The sublevel was colder, humming with hidden machinery. Server stacks lined the walls, blinking with status lights like eyes in the dark. 

They moved fast. Caitlyn took point, sweeping corners. Vi followed, eyes scanning for motion. At the final terminal, a palm-sized encrypted drive sat docked inside a reinforced port.

Vi reached for it—

No. NO. Caitlyn realized that had to be a setup. It was easy. Too easy. There was no way in hell that the most important information in the entire facility would just be lying like a duck in waiting for someone to come collect it. She had to warn Vi.

Click .

A spotlight slammed on from above.

Caitlyn grabbed her gun.

Vi froze.

A slow clap echoed through the chamber.

“Well. You always did like theatrics,” came a voice from the shadows.

From the opposite hallway stepped a figure in a tactical vest and black boots, her silhouette sharp against the light.

“Sevika,” Vi growled.

“You always were too soft,” the woman replied, letting her mechanical arm drop to her side. “Bringing in outsiders? Trusting the feds?” 

“I’m CIA.” Caitlyn retorted, gulping.

She glanced at Caitlyn, then sneered. “You’ve gone soft, Vi.”

Caitlyn closed in slowly, hooded eyes locked on Sevika. “You’re Topside?”

“I’m freelance,” Sevika said. “But they pay well. Real well.”

“Shit,” Powder’s voice cut in over the comms. “Guys, we’ve got a problem. The guards are moving. They know someone’s in the building.”

“Cut the exit route,” Vi snapped.

“Already working on it!”

Sevika flexed her mechanical arm, purple liquid draining into it. “You’ve got one shot. Hand me the drive, and maybe I won’t drop you right now.”

Caitlyn stepped forward. “You won’t shoot.”

Sevika smirked. “And why’s that?”

“Because you’d already have done it.”

“Are you trying to call my blu—”

And then Caitlyn aimed. Clean. Sharp. Precise .

The bullet swerved low. It cracked against the glass of Sevika’s mechanical arm with a sickening snap. Purple liquid began to ooze out, running over Sevika’s skin. She screamed in pain. Vi lunged and tackled her, both women slamming against the wall with a thud.

Vi landed a punch. Sevika hit back harder.

Caitlyn dove for the drive.

More boots thundered above—guards descending.

Powder’s voice came again. “Get out now or you’re trapped!”

Caitlyn, who now had the drive safe in her pocket, grabbed her gun again, barrel inches away from Sevika’s temple. “Say hi to your bosses.”

Then she and Vi ran.

Alarms wailed as they sprinted up the stairwell. Red lights sputtered into action, and the air filled with shouts. Powder opened the door from the van, screaming into the comms.

“Five seconds! I can’t hold this loop much longer!”

They dove into the van just as a spotlight swept across the back lot. Vi leapt into the passenger seat. Caitlyn slid in behind her, slamming the door behind.

“GO!” They shrieked.

The van peeled away from the driveway, tires screeching, and gunfire erupted behind them. Bullets tore through the rear door, narrowly missing Powder’s head.

“Fuck!” she screamed. “That was awesome! ”

Caitlyn gasped for air, leaning against the van wall. “I hate you. I hate you both.”

Vi held up the drive, smirking through bloodied knuckles.

“Worth it. You’re an alright shot, Princess.”

“I’m an excellent shot. I don’t miss.”

They didn’t speak much on the drive back. The van rattled over cracked pavement, the adrenaline still hot in their veins. Powder clutched the wheel with both hands, eyes fixed ahead, her usual chatter gone. Vi nursed her split knuckles in her lap. Caitlyn sat in the back, gun still resting in her lap.

The apartment was modest, tucked into the shell of what used to be a warehouse. But when Powder unlocked the door, Caitlyn felt the warmth immediately—mismatched pillows, cluttered bookshelves, the scent of something sweet lingering in the air.

She was surprised at the coziness of it all. Sure, she’d grown up in a sprawling mansion—lush lawns, servants, chauffeurs, and money, but her house always felt metaphorically cold. As a Kiramman, she wasn’t like other kids. She was sheltered, She didn’t have the freedom to kick a ball around with the neighborhood kids after school. She didn’t even have many friends. And her parents dying when she was twenty, just when she'd hit the crux of adulthood, didn’t help much either. It’s the reason she drowned herself in work, throwing herself at every challenge that came her way. It was the reason she indulged in casual hookups—only one ex-girlfriend, and it was the reason why she tried so hard to remove her emotions from every situation. It seemed as though the minute she actually cared about something, it blew up in her face. Quite literally.

But the sister’s apartment was different. Family photos lined the walls, but not like the stiff professional paintings in Caitlyn’s that she hated sitting for. They were silly camera photos in macaroni and shell frames, the kind you would make in Pre-K. Photos of baby Powder, teen Vi, and what was presumably their parents were scattered throughout the home. The house was bright, with faint yellow lights leaking out of the pendant lamps overhead. The atmosphere just felt so warm , so comforting. Something unusual to Caitlyn.

They piled into the small living room and sat around the coffee table. Powder pulled out her computer, plugging the drive into it. Immediately, her screen began to fill with lines of code.

“It needs to be decrypted.” Caitlyn said, lightly moving Powder away. Her fingers began deftly across the keyboard, filling in the code gaps one-by-one, line-by-line, until she was at the very last piece. Then she clicked ENTER .

Powder hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

“You okay?” Vi asked.

Powder didn’t answer at first. She just stared at the terminal screen like it was something dangerous.

"I used to know kids they grabbed," she finally said, voice small. "From the lanes. They'd vanish. Thought it was Silco. Or some gang."

Caitlyn placed a hand gently on Powder's shoulder. “You’re not alone now.”

Powder didn’t look up. “Let’s just finish this.” She shook Caitlyn’s hand away.

Lines of data scrolled, then diagrams, reports, photos…videos.

Test subjects. Discarded bodies. Freakish mutations.

“This isn’t a hextech file,” she whispered, “This is about shimmer.”

“Shimmer? Like the fucking purple drug they sell down in the lanes?” Vi flipped the computer towards her.

“They were testing on street kids,” Powder said, uncharacteristically serious, her voice cracking as she spoke. “Implants. Neural overrides. Turning them into disposable operatives. Mutants. Addicts .” Powder lingered on a photo of a little girl, eyes full of fear. Her dirty, matted hair was chopped to her ears, and her bright orange eyes were full of terror. The tag on her chest read Isha. Then she angrily slammed her computer shut.

Caitlyn sat back, stunned. “This is enough to bring them down.” 

“Maybe,” Vi said. “If we survive long enough to share it.”

It suddenly dawned on Caitlyn that she really didn’t know everything about the law. The system she worked so hard to upkeep, the people she’d worked for, the person she had once aspired to be: it was all built upon an oppressive infrastructure, one willing to leech off innocents to keep Topside—and everyone affiliated with it—afloat. She didn’t want to be that person anymore. She didn’t give a shit about the consequences anymore.

“Whatever you want…I’m in.” Caitlyn declared.

Powder and Vi exchanged a glance.

“You’re sure?” Vi whispered. She had a softness to her face now, a glint in her eye.

Caitlyn nodded. 

They locked eyes, something else in the air.

Vi’s eyes were beautiful under the warm light. The freckles underneath were like an endless constellation, one Caitlyn desperately wanted to get lost in. And once again, her perfectly full lips, oh how Caitlyn wanted to kiss them. She felt herself drifting closer, closer, so close she could just—

“Stop eye-fucking and come help me clean out this room for Caitlyn, Vi!” Powder yelled, eyes narrowing.

𓇢𓆸

Caitlyn was burrowed under a deluge of blankets. The room Powder and Vi had cleared out for her was pretty, with twinkling lights on the ceiling. Vi had told her that it used to be a playroom for the two in their teenage years, and overtime had been forgotten. 

It was impossibly late—nearly five in the morning—and the city outside lay silent under a violet-tinged sky. 

The shirt she wore still smelled like Vi—smoke, metal, and something almost citrus.

Her body should’ve been exhausted, but her mind ran like a machine stuck in overdrive. It wasn’t just the mission, or the intel, or the fact that she’d nearly died.

It was Vi.

Something about her scraped at the inside of Caitlyn’s ribs. The sharp grin. The bloodied knuckles. The way she folded that guard like paper.

Caitlyn had spent her life being precise, in control. 

But Vi…

Vi made her feel like a fucking matchstick.

And Caitlyn wanted to burn.

It was absurd, really. They had only met eleven hours ago. Eleven hours, barely enough time to finish a book or a jigsaw puzzle. And yet, somehow, this-this stranger had already implanted herself in Caitlyn’s mind like fire to wood—permanent, unshakable. The entire thing felt almost laughable. 

Caitlyn was many things—priss, composed, a planner to her core. She prided herself on reason, on logic, on structure. To her, life was a puzzle that she could solve. As far as the people back home knew, the world spun on her axis. But once her relentless, ever-chasing mind fastened onto something, or someone, it clung to it with obsessive precision. And Violet… Vi... had become the epicenter of her mental storm. This was how she ended up lying awake while the world slept, thinking about a woman with a reckless grin and eyes full of defiance. 

A woman who had burst into her life like a firework—loud, bright, and a little shit. Vi was everything Caitlyn had been taught to avoid. Chaotic. Unpredictable. Rough around the edges. A walking contradiction to everything she stood for. She was a rose wrapped in thorns, a nightmare dressed like a daydream. 

The kind of person who broke rules just to feel alive—and Caitlyn had spent her whole life upholding them. Vi would never like her, not the way Caitlyn wanted to. She knew the controversies that followed her last name. She saw the widening of eyes when people heard “Kiramman.”  

But despite every red flag waving in her mind, every alarm going off in her calculated mind, she couldn’t look away. 

Vi represented something wild. Carefree. Untamed, something Caitlyn had never allowed herself to think about, to want. 

But it was all she once craved for, all those nights ago when she was just a small girl, fingertips on the glass, peering out at the world around her. She always felt caged, but years  of indoctrination had taught her that it was normal. And yet, lying there in the quiet pre-dawn stillness, it was all she could think about. 

She opened her gun case for the third time that night, checking a magazine she already knew was full. Control, order, precision—none of it helped now.

But once again, she let her mind drift.

Vi’s hair. Hair that Caitlyn wanted to run her hands through as Vi absolutely defiled her body. Her muscles. The tattoos that peaked out from underneath her clothing. Caitlyn oh-so-badly needed to see what was underneath her shirt. 

And her mouth. Caitlyn wanted her mouth everywhere. She moaned, muffling herself, at the thought of Vi between her legs, her core clenching. 

“Please…please Vi—” She whispered into the empty air of the room, sliding two fingers inside herself. “Yes…” She whined high and needy, hand still clamped over her lips to muffle the lewd noises escaping from her mouth. 

As she continued to fuck herself, her hand left her mouth and she began to bite down on her lip to further quiet her gasps. Before she even registered what she was doing, the hand that had drifted away from her mouth dipped under her pajama top—that Vi had so graciously offered to her—and grasped her left breast. 

“...Yes…” She squeezed it, twisting her hardened nipple, rolling it between her fingers.

“Yes—god yes.” Every part of her body was on absolute fire, every synapse firing. The only thing she could hear were her desperate muffled moans and the obscene squelch of her own fingers drilling in and out of herself. 

Caitlyn’s fingers picked up the pace, her palm now rubbing against her clit and hips grinding down in sloppy thrusts. Her back began involuntarily arching off the mattress, so far she felt like she was going to snap. She was so close.

Her mind replayed Vi in that hallway—brutal, fast, merciless. The way her fist cracked against the guard’s neck. Caitlyn’s thighs pressed together at the memory. That strength. That control.

She wanted to feel it turned on her, wanted Vi to hold her down and break her open.  hold her down and make her take it. Make her scream. Make her cry. Make her fucking shake. To give up control, just this once. To stop carrying the world on a trigger, and let someone else make her fall apart.

She gasped, fingers slick and desperate. “Ple-e-ease, Vi—” 

Typically, Caitlyn preferred to make women come undone underneath her. She enjoyed watching the scrunch of their faces as they neared the peak of their pleasure, feeling them squirm and shake, and sometimes, on a rare occasion, she’d have the pleasure of being with a squirter. But at that moment, she wanted to do nothing more than have Vi put her in her place, knock her down a peg. She wasn’t one for self-degradation, but for Vi, she felt like a slut. She would let Vi call her a whore, which was weird, because the adjective “whore” to describe Caitlyn Kiramman wasn't something that should be in Caitlyn Kiramman’s vocabulary. 

Yet, all she could think was how much she wanted— needed to tell Vi: I’m your slut.

And then Caitlyn came with a stifled, needy cry of Violet’s name. Her orgasm shot through her like nothing ever before. Every muscle clenched and her slender body shook with the sheer intensity of it, leaving her limp and breathless. 

As she came down from her high, legs still quaking, fingers still rubbing languid circles around her throbbing heat, she wondered what Vi was doing. She wondered if Vi could feel how needy she was at that moment, how completely and utterly ruined she was for her. 

Fuck. This was not good.

Violet couldn’t stop thinking about Caitlyn Kiramman. She wondered what would’ve happened if Powder hadn’t interrupted. It was late. Too late but all she could think about was CaitCaitCaitCait . Her slender legs, that face, her eyes, and her lips . She desperately wanted to know what those lips would look like wrapped around her strap. What she would sound like as she unraveled underneath Vi. She wanted to build Caitlyn up just to watch her fall apart. She wanted to hear what her name would sound like in that pretty little accent of hers tinged with pleasure.

She could almost hear Powder’s disdain. 

She’s practically Topside, Vi. She’s a Kiramman. It’s in her blood. You can’t fall for a Piltie, especially the CIA kind.

But Vi didn’t care. She never had. She’d always been drawn to the ones with sharp tongues, perfect hair, and colder eyes—the slightly bitchy kind who carried themselves like they were too good for everyone else and they typically were. 

The kind of fire you know will burn, but you lean in further anyways because something in it feels like home. The drug you know will kill you, but the high is too perfect to give up.

Caitlyn Kiramman? She fit the type a little too well. Polished, proud, beautiful, (seemingly) emotionless, untouchable . 

The way she held herself, like after the death of her parents she didn’t need anyone, like she had everything balanced on a bullet.

It was absurd, really. Fast and messy and a little unhinged. Vi could admit that much. But logic had never been her strong suit. The girl was a fucking cop . 

Violet was bright, a prodigy even. But her academia didn’t carry over to her personal life. She didn’t do slow burns or careful plans. She lived in the moment and didn’t give a damn if it burned her alive. That was just the way she was built. 

And anyway, it’s not like it mattered. Not really. Vi knew how topside bitches like Caitlyn looked at girls like her. Rough around the edges. Scarred. Too loud, too much. A punchline, not a partner. Someone to fix, maybe—but never someone to want. She’d had sex with too many girls who just wanted an undercity fling. A bad girl. A rebel. Something to cross off a bucket list. Someone they could piss off their boyfriends or parents off by fucking. Someone to give them the high they could never find with their limp-dick boyfriends. And it always came back  to bite her in the ass. Every. Damn. Time. Yet, she reached her hands over the coals and let herself get burned anyway. 

Still, none of that stopped the way her chest tightened the moment she laid eyes on Caitlyn’s photo. Or the way her thoughts spiraled filled with every impossible version of “what if.”  But Vi wasn’t stupid. She could dream, sure. Just not out loud. Girls like Caitlyn didn’t stay. They visited the Undercity like tourists in search of rebellion. They wanted the danger, not the damage. She’d been the phase. The mistake. The secret. And if she let herself hope—really hope—that Caitlyn was different? It would shatter her.

And that's when Vi’s orgasm shattered her instead.

As the sun began to rise, the soft glow pale morning light beginning to peek through the curtains, Caitlyn and Vi found themselves in quiet anticipation, their desperate thoughts intertwined despite the distance—literally and figuratively—between them. 

They were in deep shit. And they both knew it.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn had been washing her face in the bathroom—and her hands—when Vi tossed the bathroom door open, fingers covered in a slick sheen, and she noticed Caitlyn already bent over the sink. 

Her face immediately flushed, eyes flicking to anything, trying to avoid looking at Caitlyn’s lacy Victoria’s Secret panties.

“Must you insist on prancing around the house half- naked , Caitlyn?” Vi groaned, cheeks a fiery red.

“It’s quite sweltering in here, Violet. Maybe fix your air conditioning before requesting I boil myself alive.” She retorted, wiping her hands on her shirt.

Vi took her place at the sink, scoffing as she cleaned her hands. “You’re not gonna die if you put shorts on.”

“I just might.” 

“You’re killing me here, Cait,” Vi replied, drying her hands.

Caitlyn blushed, keeping Vi’s gaze for a beat too long before darting back into her room, her body hot.

It was quite silly, seeing as they’d known each other for less than a day, but neither could deny that something was different. But, though they were both ambitious young women who relentlessly worked until they got what they wanted, around each other, they acted like teenage schoolgirls around a crush. The occasional glance that lasted a bit too long, the brushing of hands when passing items, and the flush that creeped up their necks when one lingered a bit too close. 

They were down bad, and they didn’t even know it.

𓇢𓆸

It was evening now. The day had been completely and utterly uneventful. Caitlyn and Vi had barely spoken, each one trying not to remember what they’d both done—not knowing that the other person was doing the exact same. But even though they didn’t know how, they both knew something had changed between them. 

Caitlyn leaned over the small balcony of the apartment, still in Violet’s T-shirt and her underwear, nursing her third Marlboro Red. It was a habit she’d picked up in boarding school, when she was seventeen. The girls there taught her a lot of things—how to cover up hickeys, how to sneak vodka into water bottles, and where to hook up without being seen. 

She’d picked up the cigarettes at a party, drunk, young, and stupid. She was still young, twenty-three. But cigarettes were a habit she quite couldn’t shake. She wasn’t an addict. She didn’t smoke very often. The fact was that when life got hard, when her thoughts started to blur together, when she lost control —earlier was a prime example—she picked up her lighter. 

It was a bad habit, yes, but in a way, it was Caitlyn’s little way of rebelling. She knew it was stupid. Her parents were long dead, and though she still felt their absence like the deficiency of heat in a cold building, she didn’t really need to prove herself anymore. But she was still trying to. Every degree, every accolade, every promotion was Caitlyn trying to prove herself. So when her mind began to race, she quieted her thoughts with nicotine. She’d drop the habit one day. But for now, she exhaled again, trying not to think too hard.

The city stretched out before her, the half-moon illuminating everything below. Her legs ached, and she didn’t know if it was from the high of her early morning debauchery, the fight, or the adrenaline. Probably all three. She dragged on the cigarette, watched the ember burn gold-red at the tip, then exhaled slowly, smoke tendrils fading into the brisk afternoon breeze.

Behind her, the balcony door creaked open. 

Vi stepped out, barefoot and quiet. She was in a simple tank top and pajama shorts, showing off her rippling muscles. The knuckles on her left hand were bandaged, but Caitlyn could see blood still blooming from under the gauze, angry and red. Vi didn’t say anything. Just leaned on the railing beside Caitlyn, trying to pretend like she hadn’t come at the thought of her earlier. 

“Where’s Powder?” Caitlyn asked, still avoiding her gaze.

“At her boyfriend’s. She’s staying the night. His name’s Ekko, you’d like him.” 

“They grow up fast, eh?” 

“That they do.” Vi replied.

Caitlyn nodded, taking another puff.

“Didn’t know the rich and fancy liked cheap Undercity shit.” Vi snorted softly. 

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Violet.” Caitlyn turned to look at her now.

“Maybe I want to learn you, Caitlyn. Maybe I just want in on whatever’s going on in your pretty little mind for just a second.” Caitlyn didn’t reply.

She wasn’t sure if it was the nicotine or just Vi’s body, warm and close and impossible to ignore, but she felt something. A burning in the bottom of her belly that tipped into tingling there .

Vi tilted her head, eyes catching in the low light. “You like my shirt?”  Caitlyn glanced down. The frayed hem hit just below the top of her thighs. She looked effortlessly flawless, shirt neck dipping low below her collarbone, hair in a messy ponytail, flyaways framing her gentle face.

“Yes,” she said, as unbothered as she could. “It’s comfortable.” 

Vi’s lips twitched. “Looks better on you.”

Caitlyn felt the heat crawl up her throat and bit down on a smile. She flicked her cigarette. Narrowing her eyes at Vi, a playful smirk playing on her lips. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Vi asked, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t flirt with me.”  

“I’m not.” 

“You’re not not .”  

Vi chuckled low, and the sound wound through Caitlyn’s nerves like a corset pulled tight. For a moment, neither of them spoke. 

Then Caitlyn cleared her throat

“I’ve seen what shimmer does to people,” Caitlyn murmured. “But I’ve never seen… that . The bodies. The experiments. The children .” 

Vi nodded slowly. “It’s worse than you think.”  

“You’ve seen it up close?”  

“I’ve seen what’s left of the ones they discard.”  

The hair on the back of Caitlyn’s neck bristled. “Why didn’t you ever go public?”  

Vi laughed. Loud, haughty, and exhausted. “You think Pilties give a shit what Zaunites go through? You’re even more naive than I thought if you actually believe that the Council would listen to someone like me. ”

That stung. “I’m not naive, Vi. I’d listen.”  

“You’re not the Council. You’re still Topside, though, no matter how much you run.”  

Caitlyn turned. “Does that make me the enemy? Does that make me your enemy, Violet?”  

Vi searched Caitlyn’s eyes, a glint of caution there. 

“No,” she said at last. “But it means I don’t know if I can trust you.”  

That hurt more than it should have. It shouldn’t have hurt at all. Caitlyn didn’t know Vi. 

She stepped forward—just slightly—until they were chest to chest, breath to breath. The cigarette burned low between Caitlyn’s fingers. She stubbed it out on the edge of the railing and flicked the butt into the metal tray Powder had haphazardly designated for ash.  

“I didn’t have to go into that building,” she said, her voice low. “I could’ve stayed in the van. I could’ve turned over the drive and let them bury it. I don’t owe you shit, especially not loyalty. I mean, as far as I know, I was practically coerced into this mess.” Her voice was firmer now. “But I didn’t. I chose this. However stupid that choice might’ve been.”  

Their breath synced. She could feel the heat coming off Vi’s body. She could see the freckles under her eyes, the way they caught the soft yellow light of the lamps inside. She wanted to trace them. She wanted to taste them. 

She wanted Vi, and as far as she could tell, Vi wanted her too. 

“Vi,” Caitlyn whispered, voice barely audible. 

“Cait.” 

And then their lips met.

Caitlyn tasted like smoke and sweetness, a sweetness that Vi felt she’d had been missing this her whole life. There was nothing slow, nothing gentle about it. It was fast, it was rough, it was messy— desperate . Teeth bumped, mouths opened hungrily, fingers tangled in strands of pink hair, arms wrapped tight around a slender waist.  

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything they hadn’t said, everything they’d been holding back. The collision was inevitable. Like a moth drawn recklessly to flame.

Vi broke away, panting. Her eyes searched Caitlyn’s, clouded with heat and hesitation. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”  

“We really shouldn’t.” 

But they were already kissing again, tongues intertwining. Vi’s hands crept underneath her shirt, pulling her closer. 

“Fuck…” Caitlyn moaned as Vi began to suckle her neck, arms firmly around Vi’s nape.

Vi wanted Caitlyn’s legs around her neck instead. 

“Tell me to stop…” Caitlyn whispered in Vi’s ear as her slender fingers drifted under Vi’s tank top.

“Don’t stop, Cait.”

Whatever line they’d been drawing in the sand was completely destroyed now. 

They had made their way inside, haphazardly kissing, and now Caitlyn was now perched firmly atop the kitchen table. Vi’s hands and lips were everywhere, bunching up Caitlyn’s shirt just under her chest, devouring her lips and down her neck. Vi’s fingers slid beneath her shirt and trailed up, up, up, until the shirt was discarded to the floor and Caitlyn was in nothing but a bra and underwear. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” Vi murmured, kissing and sucking down Caitlyn’s face, past her throat and collarbone, all the way to her breasts, no doubt leaving angry dark spots in her wake. 

Her hands coerced Caitlyn into arching backward. One of Caitlyn’s arms dropped back to brace the tabletop while the other gripped tight on Violet’s shoulder.

Vi groaned as she began to suck hard at her chest, slowly dragging her lips down to Caitlyn’s needy center. Caitlyn lifted her hips off the table, grinding into Vi’s abs. 

Vi’s free hand met Caitlyn’s hips, roughly pushing her back down against the counter. “Behave, Caitlyn.”  

Caitlyn groaned in anticipation. “Please—I need you. So bad .”  

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” 

“ Fuck… shut up.”

Vi gently slid Caitlyn’s underwear down her long legs with her teeth, a string of slick slowly following the damp fabric. It landed on the hardwood with a loud squelch . Vi grinned. “Wow. You’re fucking soaked. Here I was, gonna take my sweet time with you. It’s not everyday I get to fuck a pretty Piltie.”

“Violet.” 

“I’m going to enjoy watching you fall apart for me.”

“Please. Violet, I— Oh my—”

She was interrupted by Vi wrapping her lips over her clit and engulfing the small bud in the wet heat of her mouth.

“Oh my g—” Caitlyn’s body shook, her hips freely grinding on Vi’s face as she sucked her clit and curled two fingers in deep. 

She pulled them out, just for a moment, flattening her tongue and it up Caitlyn’s wet slit. She did this over, and over, and over, and over, until Caitlyn was shaking.

“You’re such a—fuck—good girl, Cait.” 

Her hands left her sides and tangled firmly in Vi’s hair pushing her to where she needed it most, thighs wrapping tightly around her ears.

Vi was having the time of her life in between Caitlyn’s thighs, cum dripping down her face. She thoroughly enjoyed the loud moans that tumbled out of Caitlyn’s mouth, the desperation as she grinded up and down over Vi’s nose, her clit catching Vi’s tongue with every pass. Violet tightened her grip on Caitlyn’s ass, squeezing the plump muscle. 

“I-I’m going to cu— ah —I’m going to cum on your f-face…”

Vi brought her fingers back to Caitlyn’s entrance, two again, and twisted them inside while she sucked, steadily drilling them directly into Caitlyn’s g-spot. Caitlyn was bucking now, her hips meeting Vi’s tongue with every thrust. It felt like a rubber band, stretching and stretching, and she was going to burst.

“Vi—Violet I can’t—” She began twitching, her legs spasming on Vi’s shoulders. 

“Come on.” Vi breathed in between her maniacal licking and sucking of Caitlyn’s clit.

“Cum on my tongue, baby.” 

Caitlyn did just that. Her walls clenching down hard around Vi’s fingers as she shook with the force of her orgasm, a deluge of slick coating Vi’s mouth and neck, dripping down past her sports bra and pooling on the floor. Caitlyn lay there trembling, back against the cold countertop as the rubber band in her stomach finally snapped. 

They froze for a moment, the air thick with tension, and the only sound was Caitlyn’s uneven breaths as she slowly descended from her high.

With great effort, they rose to their feet, legs unsteady, lost in a lingering kiss. Caitlyn swept her tongue along Vi's jaw, savoring the taste lingering there, a soft moan escaping her lips.

When their lips finally parted, a string of saliva still connected them. Caitlyn's voice was a mere whisper. “That can’t happen again.” 

Vi nodded, her gaze steady. “No, it was just a one-time thing. It didn’t mean anything.” She replied, her voice wavering with uncertainty. The words sounded bitter on her tongue, echoing louder than they should have, as if she were trying to convince herself more than Caitlyn. Just as quickly as the flames of passion had ignited between them, they were extinguished, leaving only the smoldering embers of what could have been. The aftermath of sex surrounded them like thick fog, and the realization of what had just happened crashed over them like a cold wave, leaving them both startled and breathless.

Caitlyn, who was still naked, save for her bra, hesitantly scrambled for her shirt and her underwear. Retrieving the garments and tugging the shirt over her head, she gave one last tentative look to Violet before disappearing into the expanse of her room. And then Vi was left standing in the kitchen, soaked from the chin down in Caitlyn’s arousal, wondering where the hell to go from there.

𓇢𓆸

Caitlyn and Vi were lying to themselves when they said it was a one-time thing. Their little escapade on Powder and Vi’s kitchen table only gave way to more indecency. It had started innocently enough, fueled by banter and stolen glances, but it quickly spiraled into something neither of them had expected. 

The sex was amazing, sure, but it was the thrill of it all—the risk, the danger of being potentially caught—added fuel to an already raging fire. Each encounter left them breathless but it also left a lingering confusion about what they meant to each other. 

***

The closet:

It was just after a mission, and they were both horny.

They tumbled into the closet and Vi made Caitlyn come three times on her fingers, muffling her moans with her palm clamped tightly around Caitlyn’s lips while Powder frantically searched the house for them.

“Shhh baby…unless you wanna get caught.”

“ Mmph .”

***

The shower:

Vi was in the shower and Caitlyn walked in accidentally. 

“Cait, what the fuck?” Vi shouted through soap-soaked eyes.

“I’m sorry! I thought you were out!”

The night ended with Caitlyn’s face in Vi’s pussy.

***

The Motel Parking Lot:

Vi and Caitlyn had gone back to Caitlyn’s motel room from when she first arrived in London to retrieve her items. 

Miraculously, all her stuff was still there. 

But Caitlyn and Vi were desperate because with Powder around, it was hard to sneak around. 

“I want you. I need you.”

“Vi, here?”

“Here.”

They fucked in the back of the van.

***

One day, Caitlyn was grinding down on Vi’s abs on the couch, when Powder walked through the door.

“What the FUCK?!” She screeched, turning around. “Put some clothes on, please. ” 

They immediately jumped apart, Caitlyn yanking on her jeans and her tank top, Vi pulling her shirt down.

They stood in awkward silence as Powder turned around, slowly.

“Have you and your little girlfriend been fucking all this time?” Powder questioned, gesturing towards Caitlyn.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Vi blurted, “It was supposed to be a one-time thing.”

Caitlyn’s cheeks burned. 

Why did that sting so much? Vi wasn’t her girlfriend. This was supposed to be casual.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Powder retorted. Then her face went pink. “Did you guys…on the counter…?”

Silence.

Powder looked like she was going to retch.

“Violet. Are you telling me that you and your girlfriend decided to defile the kitchen table that we eat on? What happened to your perfectly good bed?” She tossed her purse at Vi’s head.

“Ow! Fuck was that for?” 

Powder just shook her head and stormed off to her room.

Caitlyn and Vi just stared at each other, embarrassed beyond measure.

The secret had spilled into the open, unraveling like a tightly wound thread. But neither of them could have anticipated the sheer scale of chaos—and heartbreak that would ensue.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn and Vi had been dancing the line of what they were for two weeks. 

They weren’t dating, no. But they also weren’t… not dating. 

Vi hadn’t slept with any girls since Caitlyn showed up, and she’d turned down every girl that had advanced on her as well.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Technically, no, but I’m just not interested, sweetie.”

—

Vi had given Caitlyn a nickname.

“You taste so sweet,” Vi remarked, pulling back from their kiss, “like a cupcake, Cupcake.”

“Did you just call me Cupcake?” She cocked her head in adorable confusion. Vi wanted to kiss it right off her face.

“Yes.”

Her cheeks flushed a light pink, her entire body following suit. “Violet, that is not an appropriate nickname for anyone above the age of six.” 

“Cupcake.”

“Absolutely not. I am twenty-three. I refuse to be called Cupcake like a first grader.” Still, Caitlyn couldn’t hide the cheesy grin creeping up the corners of her mouth.

—

Caitlyn found herself in Vi’s bed on nights when she couldn’t sleep (even on nights when she could, and just wanted an excuse to be with Vi), nestled between Vi’s arms, wrapped in one of her shirts. This time it was a black Speak Now World Tour T-shirt.

“Your knee is up my vagina, Violet…” Caitlyn murmured into Vi’s neck. She smelled like sandalwood and lavender.

Vi blinked herself awake. “You invaded my bed! You can’t snuggle up to me and then be upset when my legs naturally go places they shouldn’t.” She mumbled groggily.

“I’m just teasing.”

“ Hmph .” Kissing the top of Caitlyn’s head, she drifted back to sleep.

—

Vi cooked for Caitlyn (even when Powder wasn’t there), and Caitlyn loved it. Laughing, they danced around the room to “Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac while the salmon baked.

“ Your shiny ocean crashing… ” Caitlyn held the spatula like a microphone, allowing Vi to spin her to the beat.

“ And did you say she was pretty? ” Vi grabbed Caitlyn’s hips, swaying her to the twang of the guitar, pulling her close and singing in her ears.

Caitlyn giggled, her fingers tangled together at the nape of Vi’s neck. She continued to sing, loudly and slightly off-key: “ Time cast its spell on you, but you won’t forget me…I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me…I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you….”

And she was so damn beautiful, her little tooth gap, the way her eyes sparkling as she absolutely butchered the song.

Fleetwood Mac would not be proud.

And then Vi kissed her. Soft. Sweet. They stayed like that for a while, slowly kissing and swaying as the song ended. 

BEEP.

“Shit, Cait, the salmon!”

“We’ll just have to DoorDash.”

—

They had sex, obviously.

Vi liked it when Caitlyn put her full weight on her face.

Caitlyn had expressed a fear of not wanting to crush her and Violet crudely replied, “If that is how I go out, just know I died happy.”

Now Caitlyn was riding Vi’s face like a mechanical bull, one hand twisted in her hair, the other firmly gripping the headboard.

Caitlyn had been biting the headboard for the past fifteen minutes, her groans stifled. Violet finally noticed.

“No, don’t muffle yourself. I want to hear you.”

“But y— Mmph —your sister…”

“My sister is at her boyfriend’s house. Be loud, I need to hear you right now.” And then she plunged her tongue straight into Caitlyn’s pussy.

“Yes! Mmhm, yeah. Yeah right— right there . Keep going, Violet. Please don’t stop.”

She’s gonna break my fucking nose if she keeps moving like that. Vi thinks to herself. But she didn’t care.

Vi’s tongue swirled around her folds, making filthy slurping sounds. Caitlyn’s thighs clenched around Vi’s ears, hips moving in desperate vehemence as she let out loud, pornographic moans.

“You’re close, aren’t you, baby?”

Caitlyn nodded, leaning her head forward against the headboard as she grinded down on Vi’s face with a relentless fervor.

“I-I’m so— so close …”

“Let go for me, Cait.” And then Vi’s lips found Caitlyn’s clit and she sucked. Hard.

“ Oh! Yes Vi, yesyesyes …shit! I-I’m coming! Fuck!”

Then she squirted all over Vi’s face, ruining her mattress.

—

And they talked. Oh, how they talked. They talked about everything under the sun. And it was one of those times now, as they laid in Vi’s bed, each one coming down from their respective highs. 

Violet rolled off Caitlyn with a groan as Caitlyn tentatively sat up, wiping sweat-soaked flyaways off her brow. They sat in breathless silence until Caitlyn’s voice pierced through the post orgasm silence. 

“Violet?”

“Yeah, baby?

“This is a…random question, but, have you ever had a girlfriend before?”

Vi tensed. “Where did that come from?”

Caitlyn shrugged, hair spilling down her bare shoulders with the motion. “I don’t know…I’m just… thinking. ”

“Yeah. Her name was Sarah.”

“Is there a story behind her?”

Vi’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m sorry if it’s a sensitive topic…I’m just trying to get to know you. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine, I’ll tell you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Cait.”

“Okay, okay. Talk.”

𓇢𓆸

FLASHBACK (a few years earlier)

The ballroom is a sight to behold, with its grand chandeliers shining like a million suns. 

The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries that cost more than Violet’s entire life, floors polished to a shine that could blind if stared at too long, and the drinks were as strong as they were expensive. 

As Violet looks around, she feels extremely out of place. She’s wearing a beautiful green dress, not something she usually wears but altered to better suit her style. 

It’s long sleeved to hide her tattoos, which are unique and identifiable, and fully covers the rest of her body, all the way to her feet. She isn’t wearing heels, instead opting for sneakers, and a thick layer of foundation covers her face tattoo.

But everyone here is extravagant . Elegant gowns of lace, silk, and chiffon, the bodices adorned with meticulous beading and sparkling jewels, heels adorned in a variety of jewels, fancy ties, glittering dress shoes, and a wave of expensive tuxedos. Diplomats, CEOs, and politicians are mingling with socialites and celebrities, while the paparazzi flashes away. 

Even though Powder is messing with the cameras and tapping into computers to be sure they don’t get clear shots of her, Violet knows she still has to be careful. 

To Vi, the people gathered at the party were so clueless; they had no idea what it's like to struggle for anything—born with a diamond spoon in their mouths and never having to work a day in their lives. But tonight, they’ll be the ones who pay for it. 

A slow song starts to play from the string quartet in the corner, and celebrities and socialites begin filing onto the dance floor, dancing with anyone but their partners.  

As she stands there, someone murmurs her name, “Psst...Vi,” and she turns to find Sarah, her heist partner and girlfriend, standing next to her. 

She looked stunning. She was clad in a shiny red dress that matched her equally shiny red hair, gold jewelry glinting under the lights.

But before Violet can say anything, Sarah pulls her in for a kiss. It’s a brief moment of intimacy that catches her off guard. 

“What are you doing here?” Vi asks, breathless.

“Change of plans,” Sarah replies with a sly smile. “Ditch the heist plan, We’re stealing the ruby tiara,” 

The tiara was a dazzling masterpiece, crafted in Myanmar from rare metals and encrusted with sparkly, studded, equally-rare gems. It had been commissioned for Queen Meridith Taylor of Britain. When she passed peacefully in 1989, her legacy lived on through the tiara, which was carefully placed among the Crown Jewels, intended to be passed down through generations of royal women. 

For a time, it remained untouched, sparkling in the depths of the Royal vault, tucked away from grabby fingers. Eventually, in a gesture meant to honor her memory, the royal family allowed it to be displayed in the Royal Jewel Museum.  

Thirteen years later, the tiara vanished in a heist that stunned the world—and devastated the family. It seemed lost forever. Then, just as mysteriously as it had disappeared, it was recovered—its rescuers were unnamed and the details were fuzzy. Since that day, it had been heavily guarded, kept from public view, locked behind layers of security and secrecy.  

Until tonight.  

In an unprecedented move, the Taylor family had agreed to auction it off. The bidding would begin at midnight, in a hidden location known only to a few. And that’s where Violet came in.  

Silent as shadow and twice as dangerous, she wasn’t there to bid. She was there to take back what was never meant to be sold.

“Are you sure we can pull it off?” Violet holds Sarah’s hand tightly, confused and surprised that Powder changed her mind about the whole thing, considering she vehemently shot down the plan. 

“Positive,” Sarah responds with a sly grin. “but we have to act fast.” Vi nodded in agreement, feeling a rush of adrenaline. 

She glanced over Sarah’s shoulder around the ballroom, searching for signs of heightened security or an entrance. Nothing. 

Violet saw it, a corner behind the stage. When the song ended, she casually walked past the crowd, keeping her eyes peeled for security. She could feel her heart pounding as she got closer to the stage. As she reached the corner, she spotted a guard standing outside the door leading to the backstage area. She approached the guard, pretending to be one of the staff members. 

“I need to go backstage for a moment. The sound system is acting up, and I need to check on it.” 

After a few tense moments, he lowered his head away from her and stepped aside.

 Violet walked down the dimly lit hallway, her heart racing until she reached the door to the safe room. She took a deep breath and looked around to be sure no one was watching, then pulled out Sarah’s bobby pin. She inserted it into the lock, feeling a satisfying click as the lock gave way. The door swung open, and she stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room for the safe. 

It wasn’t hard to find; it was a massive, gleaming steel case, sitting in the corner of the room. She walked over to it and crouched, pulling out her lock-picking tools. She worked quickly, her fingers moving deftly over the tumblers as she manipulated them into place. The lock clicked, but she heard voices approaching the door just before she could open it and grab the tiara. 

The door swung open just as she hid behind a huge statue, her back pressing against the cement.

After a few tense moments, Violet heard a grunt and a pant as the door creaked shut. 

After a few seconds, she crawled out from her hiding spot and pulled out her flashlight, looking for the safe. 

Shit . They must’ve already taken the tiara for auction. 

She hurriedly rushed out of the hallway backstage. When she got to the edge of the corner, she peeped out through a crack in the curtain. 

“...this beautiful ruby tiara, made for Queen Meridith Ivy Taylor of England….” 

She had to act now . She wanted to turn back. This was a dangerous mission, one not worth rotting in prison for. 

But this could solve everything. Her debts, her living situation, her life.  

Pushing away her doubts, she jumped onto the stage, confused gasps sounding out. She looked to where the box sat on a pedestal, the tiara gleaming from inside. Slamming the safe box shut and grabbing it, she rushed to the huge window with Sarah in close pursuit. 

She grasped Sarah’s hand as security dashed after them. 

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Powder screeched over her intercom. They didn’t respond. 

Bullets whizzed by them, stopping dangerously close each time. 

As they reached the window, Violet hesitated momentarily, her gaze darting to the bustling street below. But there was no turning back now. With a swift motion, she threw a nearby chair toward the massive window and it shattered, the frigid air blowing toward them. 

Without a second thought, they leapt out into the open air. The rush of wind filled Violet’s ears as they plummeted toward the frozen ground, but they were prepared. In a practiced motion, they activated their parachutes, feeling the sudden jerk as they slowed their descent. 

Powder revved the engine impatiently as they approached. 

“Go, go, go!” Violet shouted, throwing open the door and diving into the backseat alongside Sarah. 

With a screech of tires, the car peeled away from the curb, exhaust flaring out like a smoke signal. They cut through a forest, swerving around trees and narrowly avoiding deer, branches slapping at the windshield. The rearview mirrors were ripped off as they squeezed between two huge trees. 

“Powder, get out of here!” Violet yelled, clutching Sarah’s hand for dear life, her fingernails digging into Violet’s palm. 

They turned out of the shrubbery onto a road, where police were now on their trail. 

“Faster, Pow!” 

“Shut the hell up! I need to concentrate!” Powder shrieked. Then she lurched forward, slamming all her weight on the gas, darting in between cars and blowing past red lights. A bullet shot through the back window, just missing Violet’s head. 

“Duck!” 

“I can’t really do that, Sarah!” Powder hissed, swerving back and forth. When they finally turned onto a back road, she slowed down.

After a few hours of silence, save for Sarah’s directions, Powder turned into a sketchy motel. Turning off the car, she turned on her phone flashlight and pointed it at Violet and Sarah. 

“What the fuck did you two idiots steal? There should not be this much security over what is considered costume jewelry to those people.” 

Violet propped open the case. 

“Oh my,” Powder breathed. “It’s beautiful, but why did you steal this? I thought I explicitly said it was a bad idea.” 

Sarah scoffed. “Oh come on, Powder, we’ll make a fortune for this!” 

“A fortune isn’t worth rotting in jail. I look terrible in orange.”

“Who said anything about getting caught?”

“Sarah, you don’t seriously think we’re getting away with this, right?”

“But what if we do?” 

Powder shook her head in annoyance and opened the car door. They all checked into the motel, pretending that they were tired business associates desperately needing a room (and some booze). The old man at the front tossed them a key, and they made their way up the rickety stairs to a dingy, freezing room. 

The dim moonlight filtering in through the thin curtains barely illuminated the space, casting long shadows across the worn carpet. A few framed prints hung haphazardly, their images covered by layers of grime and dust. Two mattresses were on the floor, each covered in starchy, cheap sheets and mysteriously stained with sags in the middle. In the corner, there was a small coffee table covered in cigarette burns and water rings, where Violet hesitantly placed the safe box. The bathroom door hung slightly ajar, revealing a toilet covered in brown, and the stench of shit wafted from inside. The tiles were cracked and mildewed, and the sink dripped steadily into a stained porcelain basin. 

Sarah closes the bathroom door and pops open the small bottle of cheap beer the guy gave them. She hands Powder and Vi paper cups and they tap them together, raising the cups to our lips. 

When Vi takes a sip, her head slowly begins pounding. 

Powder drops her cup and stumbles back, foaming at the mouth. The room starts to spin, the walls blurring together. 

“Sarah? Baby? What’s happening?” Powder slurs. “Sorry sweetie,” Sarah says. And with a sharp jab, she cracks the butt of her taser into the side of Powder’s head. Powder collapses onto the mattress, her eyelashes fluttering shut, short blue hair splayed about, a trickle of blood slowly running down the side of her head. 

Then she flicks her eyes to Violet, and something like a bittersweet smile plays on her lips. Sarah points the taser at her and she stumbles back. “Rohypnol,” she says, gesturing toward the spilled cups. 

“Why…?” Is all Vi can mutter before collapsing to her knees. 

Sarah lifts Vi’s chin and sighs. “It’s every woman for herself,” she says. “I had fun with you, babe, but it’s a cut-throat world, so, no hard feelings.” 

And with a kiss, she shoves Violet backward. Vi falls onto the mattress. The last thing she sees is Sarah grabbing the safe box and blowing her a kiss before everything goes black.  

—

“I woke up and she was gone with the crown and the money. The cops busted down the motel door and I spent…time in prison for it. I took the blame so my sister would be okay. It was terrifying. The only thing that kept me going was Powder. This fancy politician saw my file and I got put through a program to clear my record.” Vi takes a deep breath. 

“I’m so sorry, Violet I—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

“Your turn.”

“What?”

“Have you ever had a girlfriend? Or are you just the hookup type?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “Yes, I used to have a girlfriend. Her name was Maddie. We broke up because she got super jealous. It was stupid.”

“I would be jealous too, if I had you.”

Caitlyn blushed, running a hand through Vi’s hair. “Not that kind of jealousy…” Then she cocked her head, biting her lip. “Well, yes, but also, any time I would achieve something, she was there to knock me down a peg. She was so competitive, not just with everyone else, but with me. Especially me.”

“I’m so sorry Cait. You deserve to be cherished, not constantly one-upped. Especially not by your own girlfriend.”

“It’s fine. I’m not mad anymore. Especially now that I have you to…properly satisfy me.”

Vi’s eyes went dark.

“You mean she…?”

“She could, sometimes. But most nights I would just have to fake it.”

“Have you ever faked it with me?” Vi already knew the answer. The face she made when she was at the brink, the way her legs twitched, the amount of times she’d ruined the sheets. But Vi just wanted to hear it from Caitlyn’s mouth.

“Make me cum again. Maybe you’ll find out.” She backed herself up on the pillow, lips curled in a sultry smile. 

“Jesus, Cait, you’re going to kill me.”

“Maybe, but you love it.”

“That I do.”

And she enveloped Caitlyn’s lips in a wet kiss.

Oh they knew exactly where this was going.

Chapter Text

Maddie Nolen twitched uncomfortably in her desk chair, tucking a strand of long ginger flyaways behind her ear. She’d grown out her hair over the years, and she could finally put it in a ponytail, but it kept getting in her face.

Groaning, she pulled up yet another round of tapes. It had been a long day of staring at meaningless camera footage. Her boss, Valerica DeRoux, had been on edge recently due to an influx of crime around government areas. The break-in at Piltover’s Vault had been the tipping point. They’d even detained Sevika—caught on camera, talking to the intruders—and now she was rotting in a jail cell, refusing to name names. It had thrown everyone at the agency off kilter, and DeRoux was one phone call away from forcing them all on the next flight to London to catch the crooks themselves.

But Maddie—and the rest of the agents—were tired of searching for criminals who just couldn’t be caught, tired of combing through the same twenty tapes again and again. She was itching to get back to her apartment, maybe order some Thai, and do nothing. So she checked the time incessantly, swiveling her head back and forth between the footage and the clock on the wall. Then something flickered.

She froze. One of the hallway cams glitched—subtle, almost nothing. Unnoticeable to the distracted eye. But Maddie rewound the feed, pausing at the exact frame.

And there it was. Caitlyn Kiramman. Clear as day, gliding through the corridor of a restricted government facility like she owned the place. She leaned forward, eyes darting all around the computer screen, not knowing where to look. Her ex-girlfriend, Caitlyn Kiramman. The poster girl for perfection. Prissy bitch. She always acted like she was better than everyone else, what with her spotless record and judgy little smirk. And she wasn’t alone.

Two others were in the frame—one Maddie didn’t recognize, and the other…  She zoomed in.  The second woman was holding Caitlyn’s hand, and she was looking at her. The footage was blurry, but Maddie would bet a lot of money that she was looking at Caitlyn like she hung the moon, just like everyone who’d ever met her looked at her. Of course.

It had been, what, two years since the breakup? Not that Maddie was counting. It hadn’t ended well. Hadn’t ended clean. And now here was Caitlyn, frolicking through a restricted government site hand-in-hand with some pink-haired street rat like it was a fucking amusement park. Maddie sat back in her chair, chewing the inside of her cheek.

Maddie could use this against her somehow…she just needed to find the other woman in the video. She pulled up her ID recognition software. “Come on,” she whispered, dragging the image of the mystery woman into the scanner. “Let’s see who’s stealing your virtue, princess.”

* * *

Powder was one edge. She was worried for Vi. Her and Caitlyn had been moving fast, and Powder didn’t trust her. Not one bit. Something was off about her. The way she moved through their world—their home—like she didn’t belong. Like she could up and leave at any moment. So she found herself tossing the bedsheets aside and bounding to the bathroom, where Caitlyn was washing her face for the night. She wasn’t wearing anything besides Vi’s oversized Hamilton T-shirt. 

“You’re wearing her shirt now?”

Caitlyn turned around, confused.“She lended it to me, what’s wrong with that?”

“Did you two not pick up your clothes from the motel already, or are you just playing house? Why are you wearing her clothes? I know the two of you are sleeping together, but still.”

Caitlyn stiffened. “Did someone piss in your coffee this morning? What the hell is your issue?”

“You. I don’t trust you, Caitlyn. Sure, you’ve been great on missions and all, but how long until you decide this is too much? I agreed to let you help us because Violet insisted on it. I don’t know why the hell she decided you were what we needed, but she did. But I’m worried about her. She’s got a good heart. I’m watching you. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt again.”

Caitlyn shook her head, opening her mouth just to close it again. “Look, Powder if this is about her ex, I’m not like her. 

“Are you dating?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you love her?”

Caitlyn blinked. “I……”

“Don’t act deaf. I asked you a question.”

Caitlyn wanted to say yes. They acted like a couple. They laughed, they slept together tangled in sheets. Caitlyn felt light again, she felt wanted. She hadn’t felt that way in such a long time. She also hadn’t allowed herself to feel anything in a long time. When Vi held her, the world quieted. The world seemed to stop spinning when Vi looked into her eyes. But it was too much, too soon. She wasn’t ready, right? Plus she and Vi had only known each other for a few weeks. God, she felt like a lovesick child.

So instead of screaming what she really wanted to say, Powder I’m really fucking in love with your sister. I love her so much and it scares me. She whispered instead, “I don’t—this is too much I…I can’t have this conversation with you right now.”

Powder shook her head in disbelief.

“You Topsiders are all the same. You come to dance on the edge, then you run when it cuts you.”

“Hey, that’s not fair, Powder, I—”

“How long?”
“Powder…” Her voice cracked.

How long till you go right back to being the goody-two shoes, asshole in a uniform you were before? My sister’s been hurt by girls like you. Girls who wanted a taste of the undercity. Girls who dip their toes in and bolt when they’ve decided they flew two close to the sun. But this game that you’re playing? You need to figure it out. Don’t break her heart in the midst of your searching.”

Caitlyn looked wounded. She sniffled, and Powder could see tears welling up in her big blue eyes. 

She softened, just for a minute.

“Just…just please don’t make her one of your mistakes.”

And with that, Powder turned and went back to her room, leaving Caitlyn shaking, gripping the sink.

Caitlyn returned to Vi’s room, but Vi could tell something was different.

“Cait, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

Caitlyn settled in as usual, but when she laid her head on Vi’s chest, something didn’t feel right. Caitlyn told herself this was casual, nothing more.

But she couldn’t deny what she felt. She hadn’t felt this since Maddie. Even with Maddie. And Vi? Vi was already gone for her. When Caitlyn had drifted off to sleep, her hair tickling Vi’s nose, soft snores breaking through the silence ever so often, Vi stroked her hair, a smile tugging on her lips. She was in love. Head over heels, fully, stupidly, hopelessly, in love. In every aspect of the word. She didn’t want this with anyone else. She didn’t want anyone else to sleep beside her at night, to make breakfast for, to sing with, to be with. She wanted Caitlyn . Powder would roll her eyes if she ever found out, since she had cautioned Vi about Caitlyn before they ever even met. But Vi knew it was real. Love. Vi had grown to love that word. 

But deep in the back of her mind she heard a little voice: Would she still want you if she knew the truth?

And Vi couldn’t answer. All she knew is that Caitlyn could never find out the truth, or else everything— everything —would go to shit.

—

Maddie’s screen glowed in the dark kitchen of her apartment, tabs open in chaotic order. She’d been at it for hours, but finally, a name blinked back at her. 

“Got you, bitch.” She whispered, grinning.

Violet Lanes. Federal record. Grand theft—priceless artifact stolen from a locked vault during closed auction. The case was extremely high profile, with lots of buzz from the media. But what really caught her eye was the name on the parole board. 

Councilor Cassandra Kiramman.

“Sarah, baby, come see this.” 

Sarah padded into the kitchen, still in her bra and boyshorts, dark red hair tucked into a messy bun, chugging a can of Diet Coke. The TV murmured behind her—some cheesy high school rom-com. She leaned over the kitchen island.

“Hey, that’s Violet.” She narrowed her eyes. “That’s my ex!” 

“And she’s with my ex right now,” Maddie said pleasantly. “But, see, the kicker is that after Violet got thrown in prison for the crime you set her up for, it was Caitlyn’s mother who reviewed her case and put her through some cushy rehabilitation program to set her free.”

Sarah’s eyebrows raised. “Damn, full-circle redemption. It’s almost heart-warming.”
Maddie smiled, though there was nothing sweet about it. “And we’re about to watch it go up in flames”

“What part do we play in this budding love story?” Sarah mused, tilting her head.

“We’re gonna end it. The poor Lanes girl has been through a lot, sure, but she’s fucking with our shimmer scheme. And Caitlyn Kiramman?” Maddie’s eyes darkened. “She’s a thorn in my side that I should’ve pulled out years ago.”

Sarah grinned wickedly. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Call DeRoux. She wants to bury this quick. So we give her a scandal. A traitor. Whatever’s left of Caitlyn’s career will implode. Violet’s just collateral damage.”

***

“Caitlyn, watch your head!” Vi called, knocking a guard down before they could empty a round into Caitlyn’s skull. “What’s with you today?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

The rest of the mission was a shitshow. Caitlyn’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Every shot was a bit too slow, and the shouts were a blur of voices and loud. She couldn’t even tell who dragged her out of there, all she could feel was the ringing in her ears and the sinking feeling of failure in her gut.

There was something going on, and Vi knew it. But she let Caitlyn insist that it was just a bad day. She held Caitlyn the entire way home, washed Caitlyn’s hair in the shower and kissed her bruises. “You’ll be okay, baby, I promise,” She whispered, wiping the tears as they rolled down Caitlyn’s face. Caitlyn nestled herself into the crook of Vi’s neck, trying to quell the ever-growing storm swirling in her head.

The apartment was quiet, the kind of unsettling silence that would make a person want to crack a joke. Caitlyn stared blankly at the ceiling, Vi snoring softly beside her. She didn’t mean to get up, didn’t mean to search, but she kept replaying Powder’s words in her head. “ Girls who dip their toes in and bolt. Was that who she was? She didn’t know what she was looking for, but her feet didn’t stop until they reached the basement door. Her hand hesitated on the trapdoor. Just a peek , she told herself. But she was lying like she always did. She was looking for an excuse. It would hurt less if she left first.

Caitlyn was in love—electrifying, heart-racing, dizzying love. But she wouldn’t admit it. She couldn’t. How could she, when every mistake seemed to amplify proof that she wasn’t good enough. She couldn’t find the courage to stay, so she was desperately searching for a reason—anything—to justify running. Running away from all her problems like she always did. 

The basement was grimy and cold, but she continued on, shining her way around until she found a lamp. She hit the switch, and the room flickered in pale orange light. On the far side of the room, there was a large oak table with polaroids spread around a thick folder.

Setting the lamp down, she was taken aback. The polaroids were photos of her . Her hands hovered over a photo. Her crouching behind a building during training, gun in hand. Another, her at a remembrance for her parents, open mouthed. And another—this one taken from a rain-soaked window.

“What the fuck…”

The folder was thick. She opened it with shaky hands. Photos, cutouts, articles, and even a rough sketch of her old estate. Combing through, she found a small file with information scrawled on the cover in thick, blocky letters. Inside was an article about her mother. It read: 

KIRAMMAN POLITICIAN PARDONS CRIMINALS

And a list of names. Caitlyn’s hands trembled on the paper as she read them, and the last one stopped her cold. Violet Lanes - Age 19 .

Caitlyn read and read and read until her eyes couldn’t compute words anymore. Then she found a piece of paper. It was yellowed and water-stained, crumpled as if it had been folded and unfolded, forgotten. The handwriting was jagged, old, unsure, possibly even angry. A different Vi, one she hadn’t met before, but the words still felt like a bullet in her chest.

• Find the Kiramman girl

• Get her to trust us

• Ruin her

Then she began to cry. Quiet, contained sobs that made her shoulders shake. Everything had been a lie. How could she have been so stupid? She was hopelessly in love, and Vi? It was all a game to her. The laughter, the fun, the missions, the sex. All of it meant nothing. 

Caitlyn stood on the balcony staring out at the expanse of stars. The bright lights seemed so far today, twinkling just beyond her reach. It was too much. All of it was too much. She had to leave. Now.

She looked behind her to the money on the table, and back at her phone in her hand. Her Uber pinged again.

Stepping back inside, she grabbed the box and the safe keys. As she was about to step out of the door, she stopped in her tracks. Vi.

Pushing open the bedroom door, the moonlight spilling over her gorgeous face, lay Vi. Her perfect eyelashes flickered as if she was dreaming. Of what? She wanted to break down, to cry and scream, to ask why . And then Vi shifted, and let out a little huff of breath. God, Caitlyn just wanted to crawl in bed next to her, cancel the uber, drop the cash, and forget everything. But she gathered all her resolve and walked away, once more leaving everything she loved behind.

𓇢𓆸

Love. What a stupid fucking word.

Vi stared at the empty space beside her, her breath coming up in small, panicked gasps. She’d seen it time and time again. The distance, the silence, the goodbye . She picked up the note, reading the same line over and over again until her vision blurred with thick, hot tears.

I’m sorry, Violet.

“No.” She whispered. “No, no. No. no .” She was screaming now, sobbing into her hands.

“Vi?” Powder stumbled in. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Then she saw Vi’s face, the note. “Vi?” She asked again.

Vi couldn’t speak, just handing her the paper through choked sobs.

Powder read it.

“That fucking Piltie bitch .” But even her voice cracked.

Vi punched the wall until her knuckles split. Powder flinched, but didn’t stop her. Vi deserved to be upset.

“We’ll find her.”

Vi didn’t answer. She’d known. She’d felt it in her bones. She felt Caitlyn slipping away, but she hadn’t stopped it. She had tried to hold her tighter, hoping it would be enough. But it wasn’t. It never was.

Chapter Text

Only once she was inside the Uber did Caitlyn allow herself to cry.

She couldn’t even imagine how she must look. Her dark blue hair in a messy, disheveled ponytail, clad in an old sweatshirt and shorts she’d thrown on, and her old ratty Converse from her training days.

Caitlyn squeezed her eyes shut when she felt the tears welling up, but it was too late. They streamed down her face, hot and ugly as she realized the gravity of what she’d just done. She felt like she was doing the right thing, that this would protect her heart. But that was a lie. Violet owned her heart, and mercy wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Mercy wasn’t supposed to stifle your breath and gnaw at your insides. She kept replaying the feel of Vi’s scalding touch on her body, the feeling of her kiss, the sound of her breath at night. Then the note. The two words in angry, jagged handwriting flashed through her mind. Ruin her. The words cut through her like a sword.

She turned around, but the car was already speeding away, leaving the apartment far in the distance. The sleek black case felt like dead weight in her lap, in addition to her fingernails digging deep into her bare thigh, leaving splotchy, red half-moons in the supple skin. She watched as the busy city landscape began to slowly fade into rolling hills. Neon gave way to moonlight, midnight chatter to the singing of cicadas.

They drove in tranquility for a while, nothing to be heard save for Caitlyn’s quiet sniffles, and the soft thunk of her sneakers as Caitlyn swung her legs into the cupholder. The woman’s silence was a gift. No small talk, no pitied glances. Just the soft hum of Lana Del Rey to soothe her broken heart.

With nothing to distract her racing mind, Caitlyn noticed everything. The pale hands that gripped the steering wheel, chipped black paint on each manicured finger, golden rings clinking together with every turn of the wheel. The sun and moon tattoo on her upper arm, tiny stars delicately inked around the half-crescent. The Diet Coke can that sat in the cupholder, a lipstick stain on the rim, condensation slowly dripping down the dull metal.

They arrived at the airport, settling right in front of the revolving doors. Caitlyn stepped out of the car, still gripping the black case like it would develop wings and fly away.

“Thank you, uh…”

 “Sarah.” The woman replied with a grin, lifting up her Piltover Academy baseball cap to meet Caitlyn’s gaze. Her pendant glinted in the moonlight, a shiny, cursive letter M dangling from the golden chain. The woman’s visage was still half shrouded in darkness under the cover of night, but she had that same sharp smile that Caitlyn had seen before—a photo maybe? An Instagram post? But no. It was just her brain playing tricks on her. With filters, repetitive makeup, and boxed hair-dye, everyone blurred together these days. Caitlyn was too tired to be curious. The only thing that mattered was getting as far away from London as possible. Whether that meant she ejected herself into space or joined a convent in Romania, she just needed to get the hell away from here.

“Sarah. Thank you Sarah.”

“You’re welcome, Caitlyn.”

Then the car sped away into the vast expanse of the night.

Caitlyn dragged her suitcase through the busy airport, trying excruciatingly hard not to think about Violet as her phone began to buzz. It was from an unknown number. 

Go to the closest women’s restroom. Do not alert anyone. Do not tell anyone where you are going. If you do not come alone, Violet will suffer.

Caitlyn blinked before reading the message again. She looked around her, searching for anyone out of the ordinary, to no avail. The airport was as busy—and dirty—as ever. The words burned themselves in the back of her brain. Do not tell anyone. Do not tell anyone. Do not tell anyone. Do not tell anyone. The words repeated themselves in her mind over and over and over until they overlapped and there was nothing in her mind but the instinct to run. Everything around her seemed to prick her senses. Everyone looked ordinary, but she was searching for something, anything out of the blue. The man in the trench coat who seemed to look at her a bit too closely. The geriatric woman with a suspiciously complex phone. She felt like she was going insane. She considered leaving, calling the sender's bluff, but she'd only been able to step a singular foot in the opposite direction before she received another message.

You’re so stubborn. It’s like you want us to blow her brains out. 

Her grip went white on the handle of her suitcase. For all she knew, this could be someone’s horribly fucked-up idea of a prank. But what if it wasn’t? She decided to follow the message. This was so insanely moronic, and she knew it, but as of late, Caitlyn was the leading lady in the play of sheer stupidity. She drifted between patrons to get to the bathroom, peering ahead as she entered.

The restroom was empty, save for a short woman in a plum-colored sweater, a long, flowy midnight-green skirt, and snakeskin high-heel boots. Her dark brown hair pitched down her shoulders, stopping just below her armpits. Her freckled cheeks were blown pink from the nippy London winds and her expression was one of steel.

Caitlyn recognized her instantly.

“Agent Lest.”

“Former Agent Kiramman.” 

Fuck, Caitlyn would be lying if she said that didn’t sting.

“What the hell is this about?”

“This is about your escapades with Violet Lanes. DeRoux wants to see you.”

“I already have a flight booked for—”

She was abruptly interrupted, which threw her off. Lest had been her underling, back when she was still working with the Agency. She’d been younger and quieter then, silent like a mouse, diligently following Caitlyn’s every order. Caitlyn still remembered how Lest’s big amber eyes widened with fear every time Caitlyn had raised her voice, or the way she seemed to shiver when Caitlyn entered a room. Now she stood across from her, feeling like the smallest person on Earth as Lest looked down on her. The irony of the situation was not lost on her.

“You have a new flight booked. Straight back to Atherton. You will wait until we’re ready for you. If you try to leave, well, you know our methods.”

“Why?”

“If you would just—”

“ Why ?”

Lest sighed, and a glimmer of something seemed to poke through her hardened exterior. It was something like remembrance, bordering on the edge of pity.

“Caitlyn—” Lest cut herself off, shaking her head, as if saying Caitlyn’s actual name left a sour taste in her mouth. “Agent Kiramman,” she started again, “I think it will be better for you—and everyone—if you just stopped asking questions. DeRoux doesn’t want to hear your questions, she wants to bury you alive with the weight of your own mistakes.”

Caitlyn nodded. Lest stepped forward to hand her a new boarding pass, and Caitlyn took it, noting how, after all these years, she still towered over Lest. It did nothing to ease the pit in Caitlyn’s stomach, and she felt no bigger than an ant as Lest strided away, her heels echoing across the terrazzo flooring. She didn’t know how long she stood in that bathroom, unmoving, holding that boarding pass before she remembered how to use her feet again, but eventually, she made it to her new gate.

The flight was completely uneventful. She barely spoke a word to anyone. Not the flight attendant offering soda, not the old woman across from her who’d said Caitlyn reminded her of her daughter, and especially not the old man in the cab who asked her if she was headed home. She vehemently shook her head no. Because Atherton didn’t feel like home. Not anymore. Once upon a time, she’d run through the sprinklers on her massive lawn with the staff chasing her relentlessly and gone trick-or-treating with a gap-toothed grin and a fairy wand, but that girl was gone. That Caitlyn knew what she wanted from the world, and what she’d do to get it. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

* * *

Caitlyn fidgeted nervously with the lit cigarette in her hands. She hadn’t smoked since that unforgettable night on Violet’s balcony, the same pack of Marlboro Red still unfinished in her coat pocket. She swore she wouldn’t smoke for the time-being, but she made an exception for herself. She felt more out of control than she’d ever felt her whole life, and it was killing her. How did she fall so far? Inhaling once more, she let the familiar burn of nicotine curl down her throat, swirling through her lungs, then up and out her nostrils. 

Being in Atherton didn’t trigger any waves of nostalgia like she’d thought it would. Her memories felt like a sharp, stinging reminder of everything she’d fucked up. She thought she’d finally found one thing that she didn’t need to prove herself to have, and it was perfect. Well, until she’d found the note.

Now, after weeks of drowning her sorrows in alcohol and takeout, she stood in front of the large revolving doors, smoking a blunt like a degenerate, waiting for someone to call her up to DeRoux’s office.

Her reprieve came quick, with a face she’d never expected to see again.

Sarah, her cab driver, in full sunlight in front of her. Her auburn hair was held in a tight braid, and she wore a corporate vest that showed off her arm tattoo, a matching pair of pants, and Prada heels. Caitlyn choked on air.

“I bet you never expected to see the likes of me again.” Sarah looked her up and down, her grin curling into a sneer. “You look worse than the last time I saw you.”

Caitlyn scoffed. But she knew Sarah was right. She looked like shit—she felt like it too. Bags under her tear-streaked eyes from lack of sleep, unwashed hair tucked into a messy bun, clothes that reeked of stale perfume and cigarette smoke, and smeared makeup. “Thank you for the observation, Sarah.”

They walked through the pristine, ornate hallways, heels clacking against the linoleum. Sarah was quiet, just watching and observing Caitlyn with that obnoxious smile. When the elevator finally opened at the top floor, DeRoux’s floor, Caitlyn’s stomach flipped. She continued walking down the hall until she bent over and promptly emptied her lunch onto the waxy floor.

“Fuck. I’m sor—”

Sarah hoisted her up, annoyance peaking through her smug exterior. “The janitors will clean it. You’re not running away from this, Kiramman.”

They continued until they reached a large, steel door. Sarah rapped her knuckles against the metal three times. When they finally swung open, Caitlyn’s heart sunk past the floor, probably even to the deepest depths of hell. Her blood ran cold, and she just stood in the doorway, gaping like a fish, unblinking. Because there, in the center of the room, was Maddie Nolen, Caitlyn’s first—and only—girlfriend, promptly turned ex, smiling at her with that same crooked smile that once made Caitlyn’s heart turn, playing on her lips.

Of course it was Maddie. It was always Maddie. She was like a forgotten ghost in a graveyard. Always lurking, always watching, always haunting the narrative. She looked different now, her once wispy ginger bob that nestled right under her chin had grown out, settling just below her shoulders. She’d grown into her features from high school, she didn’t wear glasses anymore, and she looked sleeker now. Smugger. Slowly crossing her legs, Maddie leaned back in her chair. “God, Cait,” Maddie whispered, her voice filled with faux-nostalgia, “you still play with your hair when you’re nervous. You haven’t changed at all,” she cooed.

“This can’t be happening.” Caitlyn mutters, releasing the strand of her hair that was coiled tight around her pointer finger.. The last time she saw Maddie, she was begging Caitlyn to stay, while Caitlyn packed her stuff out of the shared flat.

“Do you remember,” Maddie started, “the day you left? You packed your shit in silence, barely even sparing me a second glance. You told me you didn’t love me anymore. But I remember the way your fingers trembled on the zipper of your suitcase. I thought, ‘ maybe if i touch her, she’ll stay.’ You didn’t stay. Hell, you didn’t even flinch. Now here you are, flinching.”

“Fuck you, Maddie.” Caitlyn spat from the doorway. Suddenly, she was being knocked to the ground, her head cracking against the tile. As she sat up, blood began to trickle down the side of her face slowly, mixing with sweat and shame on the way down. Sarah leaned over Caitlyn, her expression unreadable. “Nighty-night.” She felt a cold hand brush her upper arm, then a pinch. 

She already knew what was happening.

“Wait! Stop—” Caitlyn cried helplessly. And then everything went black.

𓇢𓆸

Violet wasn’t doing much better.

She spent her days drinking, sleeping, and fighting, often coming home smelling like booze and bad decisions, covered in welts and bruises. It was the worst Powder had ever seen her sister. 

Vi rarely fell apart, and when she did, it was almost never evident. She broke down in silence. Powder remembered when their parents passed, though Vi put on her toughest face, Powder could still feel her sorrow with sobs in the shower, empty alcohol bottles in the trash, and Vi taking more shifts at the bar. 

She let Vi grieve, and inside, she was hurting too. She’d started to like Caitlyn because, in some fucked-up way, Caitlyn had inserted herself into their lives, and now that she was gone, life felt…weird. Like a painting with the finishing touches missing, or a cake with no icing. It was like they were moving in slow-motion and everything else was continuing like normal. It was eerie, how one person could warp life around itself then leave like nothing.

They ate in tandem, shoveling the gritty oats into their mouths. Vi broke the silence.

“We should probably buy more food for the week, we’re running low on a lot of things.”

Powder nodded, adding: “It’s insane how we don’t finish food as fast now that she’s not here.”

Vi looked up now, looking Powder in the eyes for the first time in days .

“Stop talking about her.”

Powder scoffed. “Vi, it’s been weeks. You don’t sleep, you barely eat. I miss you. It’s like you’re here, but you’re not at the same time. I hate that she’s doing this to you and she’s not even here.”

Vi looked exhausted. Like life had been drained from her body.

“I’m sorry, Powder. I’ll try. Not just for you, but for me too, I swear. Nobody will ever come between us again.” She reached over the table, pulling her sister into a warm embrace. Little did she know what the universe had in store for them.