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pastel-peach-writes · 5 months

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Can you CatVi x Reader where Reader touched VI’s jacket and it got into a mess of paint that the Reader was painting and Vi and Cait came home and saw the painting but saw VI’s jacket. But Vi was shocked and didn’t say anything but was angry.

Comin' right up!

Don't Cry Over Spilled Paint | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Messy. That was the word to describe you and your relationship with paint. After fair warnings to wash your hands after you paint, you get yourself into some trouble that might bite you in the butt later on.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Cursing, Not Proofread, 3000+ words, No Use of Y/n, Angry Vi, Fluff Towards The End, Caitlyn Giggles (shh)

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

(A/N): UMMM totally didn't see where Anon said Vi doesn't say anything ab being upset. She totally did and IM SO SORRY ANON 😭😭

You weren't sure how it happened. One minute you were painting a beautiful piece that showed Zaun in its light and then the next you were frantically scrubbing paint off of Vi's red jacket.

Maybe this could've been avoided if you just listened to Caitlyn.

"Make sure you wash your hands after you paint," she would always say to you. "You touch everything after you paint and you get paint everywhere."

You should've listened to her, you really should've, but she wasn’t here to warn you. So, technically, this was on her!

"Come on, come on," you muttered as you scrubbed a white rag on the jacket. Luckily, the paint spot was small. The color of the paint a navy blue and it was right next to some forever dirt patches in the jacket so the spot wasn't noticeable.

With the jacket and rag underneath running water, you declared the jacket done. The paint had already dried and there was no going back now. Besides, would Vi really notice that minuscule spot? You didn't think so.

A relieved sigh escaped your mouth as you shut off the tap. Wringing the rag out, you noticed two palm-sized white spots on the jacket. You set the rag down, going to inspect the jacket but before the jacket even touched your hands, your heart dropped to your feet.

The palms of your hands were white from priming your next canvas. The same white on the jacket matched the white on your hands.

Maybe it's just a coincidence.

You leaned your head further into the sink, too terrified to even touch the jacket. Through the white primer on the jacket, some lines and cracks matched the pattern of a human's palms. Okay, if your heart hadn't sunk before, it was now. Oh, and now you were trembling with fear.

You turned the tap on again. The water splashed and sprouted upwards from hitting Vi's jacket. You watched as the soaked jacket continued to take more water but the white spots not diminishing.

You turned the tap to hot.

Still the same reaction. Jacket soaks up water, paint remains untouched.

You should've noticed that the paint on your hands wasn't transferring to the faucet handles; a sign of dried hand paint.

"We're home!" Caitlyn's voice rang throughout the home.

Shit.

You thought you had more time. You thought you could take her jacket to the dry cleaners and get someone to professionally get the paint out yet leave all the dirt and grime so Vi wouldn't notice the difference.

You thought you had time to research how to get primer out of fabric and search up which primer you used to see if it was water-soluble. Was there even such a thing as a water-soluble primer? What's the point of a primer if it disappears with water?? FUCK.

Wooden creaks and deep steps rattled the floor above you. Caitlyn and Vi were settling themselves in the kitchen. This meant you had some time to hide the jacket in your studio before Vi noticed her missing jacket.

Quickly, you grabbed a plastic bag and shoved her jacket inside. You needed to keep the jacket wet. The wetter the jacket, the easier the paint comes out. Well, that was your theory at least. Tying the bag into knots you'll have to cut out later, you shoved the bag into a box of battered art supplies.

Don't ask why you have a large cardboard box filled with dead/empty art supplies. You don't know yourself.

"Muffin!" Vi shouted from the studio's entrance. "You comin' up or what?"

"Yeah!" your voice trembled. "Just trying to wash some paint off my hands."

Hearing the slight tremble in your voice, Vi took it upon herself to travel down into the basement-- oh, sorry, into your art studio -- to see what was the matter.

However, once she reached the halfway point of the staircase, you came running up.

"Whoa," Vi laughed. She placed her hands on your shoulders to prevent the two of you from colliding. "Where's the fire?"

You chuckled, sheepish and breathless. "Oh, uh. I thought you guys needed me and I didn't want you to wait much longer."

"Oh, well, that's cute of you, Muffin, but we're alright." Vi ruffled your hair. "I just wanted to make sure you ate your food before it gets cold."

"Aw, you got me food?" You put your hands on her shoulders and pushed her up the stairs. There was some resistance, naturally, but Vi let you push her up anyway.

"Well, yeah we know you've been--"

"Caitlyn!" you greeted, locking eyes with her. The girl was mid-bite in a pancake, the circle good dangling from her mouth and eyes wide. Vi laughed at her and the girl quickly took the pancake from her mouth with red cheeks.

"H-Hi!" she returned the greeting. She stood up from the counter and cleaned her hands off with a napkin. "Um, we got you food. Your favorite breakfast meal."

"Oh, great!" You removed your hands from Vi's body and made a beeline into the kitchen. The food was already plated for you with your favorite beverage on the side. You ate contently, trying not to let your worry show through facial expressions.

What was your plan now? Do you tell her? Do you let that jacket mildew and mold and hope she forgets about it? No, there's not way she could forget about it. She wears that jacket every damn day.

"Muffin," Vi said, pulling you out of your thoughts. Caitlyn and Vi were sitting at the counter across from you. When did they get there? You had no clue. "Why are your palms white? Like, whiter than Caitlyn white?"

You stifled a laugh while Caitlyn swatted her arm. "I was painting. That's why I was in the studio."

"Yeah, I know," Vi said through laughter. Caitlyn's swat had no effect on her. "But I thought you were washing your hands? Your hands were wet when you were pushing me up the-- wait," Violet deadpanned. "I don't have paint on me, do I?"

Frantic, the woman searched her arms for paint. The woman was wearing nothing but a plain white tank and some random pants. You would totally be distracted by her buff arms if your heart wasn't slowly finding its place in your chest.

Caitlyn hummed, eating a piece of pancake while she searched Vi's body. "No, you look fine which tells me someone forgot to wash their hands after they were done painting again." You received a scolding look from the English lady.

You shrugged with a dry chuckle. "Don't worry. I didn't get paint on anything."

Safe to say, your girlfriends did not believe you. Immediately springing up from their chairs, they raced to your studio despite your pleas.

They couldn't find any new marks of paint on the walls or support pillars. In fact, when they were done searching, they stumbled upon your Zaun painting and praised you for how well you captured the city.

"Wow, Muffin, you did really good with this," Vi complimented. Her fingers reached out towards the canvas, but you quickly slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch! It's still wet."

Vi snickered but obeyed. She stepped back but continued to admire your recent artwork.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, wasn't fully convinced you didn't touch anything with your painted hands. She strode towards the sink to see if there were any new paint marks. Instead of finding new paint, she found that the sink was still shiny from recent usage.

She hummed to herself. Vi said your hands were wet, though no paint transferred to her arms. So, your hands weren't wet with paint but with water. Caitlyn's gaze flickered over to your damp washcloth. Recently wrung up with a new paint mark.

The mark was a faded blue. The blue matched the blues you used in your painting, but the mark wasn't big enough for Caitlyn to assume you were cleaning up your lines with a towel.

You spilled paint on something, but on what?

To the left of her, Caitlyn spotted the box of art supplies. A hoarder, her partner was, keeping empty paint tubes, dead brushes, and other things you use for your craft.

What Caitlyn spotted was a new lump in the box. Instead of your dead supplies lying relatively flat, there was something disturbing the colorful sea, something hiding.

"Darling," Caitlyn called out for you with a finger on her chin and her other arm supporting the elbow. "Did you run out of a lot of paint while making that piece? Your graveyard of art supplies seemed to have grown."

Both yours and Vi's gaze snapped from the painting and to Caitlyn.

The three of you sat in silence, yet the tension in the air rose.

Your gaze flickered from the box, to Vi, to the box, to Caitlyn, and then back to the box.

Before anyone could say anything, you dashed. You didn't get far, matter of fact, you got nowhere before Vi wrapped her arms around your middle to hold you back.

Caitlyn went digging through the box, detirmined. Nothing could get past her. Not even her partner who loves to paint but is too messy for their own good.

"Aha!" Caitlyn triumphed as she held up the tied plastic bag. She poked the bag, a smile growing on her face. "Interesting. It's still wet and slimy inside. A recent hiding, must I say."

"Cait, don't!" you plead, squirming and wiggling under Vi's grip. The pinkette tightened her grasp around you.

"You're not going anywhere," her voice rasped through gritted teeth. You were being a challenge with all your squirms, but Vi had no problem throwing you over her shoulder if you became too much. Besides, she was having too much fun watching you beg and plead for Caitlyn not to open the bag.

"I'm sorry, but I have to." Caitlyn's long and slender fingers toyed with the knot. She used her fingernails to pull up a piece of the thin plastic before slipping her finger inside to loosen the knot completely.

"Caitlyn, I'm telling you, do not open that bag."

Opened, she did.

The girl barely took a gander before she gasped at the bag's containment. "You're right," she said through a trembling and quiet voice. "I do not need to open this bag. This bag must remain closed."

"What?" Vi exclaimed, letting go of you. "Oh, come on! Show me what's in the bag! It isn't fair you two know what it is and I don't."

Vi marched over to Caitlyn, but the blue-haired girl held the bag over her head. "No, Violet, I mean it. We need to respect our partner's boundaries and not open this bag."

You were frozen in fear. Vi was too close to the bag for your own good. You were thankful for Caitlyn's understanding of keeping the bag away from Vi, but that didn't mean you wont be hearing a lesson in your near future.

"Bull. Shit." Vi then brought her fingers to Caitlyn's armpit and tickled her. The bluenette immediately caved with giggles. Her crinkled eyes and cute smile would usually be an adorable sight to see, but right now, the sight made you seethe with anger.

Really, Cait? Couldn't hold on for just a bit longer?

Caitlyn brought her arm down, folding it like a chicken wing to stop Vi from tickling her. "Stop!" she giggled.

Vi grinned, snatching the back from her hand. "Anything for you, princess." The pinkette opened the bag and stared at its contents.

Caitlyn slid her way over to you, a small frown on her face as she played with her hands. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep it away from her for long," she whispered.

You sighed, watching Vi's face crinkle and express many, yet unreadable, emotions. "It's fine," you whispered back. "Just promise you'll attend my funeral."

Finally, after what seemed like 30 agonizing minutes, Vi spoke. "Is this my jacket?"

You gulped. "What do you want it to be?"

Vi called you by your name, her gaze lasering on you. Her eyes were darkened with anger, her lips upturned into a scowl. "Don't play cute with me," she called you by your name again. "Is this my jacket?"

Your heart was back in your chest again, but this time, it felt like it wanted to escape. A deep lump lodged and settled itself in your throat, making it difficult to say the words your brain was telling you to say.

Your chalky palms now wet from sweat and your body buzzing with anxiety. You couldn't say anything. You wanted to, but you couldn't.

You only watched the ticking time bomb on Vi's face as her expression went from upset to vexed. Her face was red with anger, the hands gripping the bag turned into fists, and her chest rose and fell with each staggered breath.

Vi took her jacket out of the bag. She scoffed at its drenched state and brought it over to the sick. She wrung it out like you did once before with a rag. Her hands were covering where the spots were.

Much like yourself, Caitlyn couldn't say a word. The two of you watched her like deers stuck in headlights. What could one say to de-escalate the situation? Caitlyn felt that if she tried to calm Vi down, she would be brushed off and told not to speak.

Vi studied the jacket from each angle. She studied the front, she studied the back. She studied the inside and then studied the pockets. It wasn't until she draped the jacket over a forearm she saw the two obnoxious spots of primer.

"I can't believe this," Vi said quietly, only a true sign of her deep anger. "Time and time again, we tell you to wash your hands and not touch anything. It was cute the first couple of times, annoying the next, and now I'm pissed off."

This had to be worse than any lecture Caitlyn would've given you.

"This is my jacket. My favorite jacket." Vi's back was turned to you, but now she's facing you dead on. Honest, you preferred her back to you. Then you wouldn't have to see the hurt in her eyes and she wouldn't have to see the sadness in yours.

A voice in Vi's head told her to stop talking but the anger she was feeling mimicked the anger she felt when Vander died. She had no control over what she was going to say, she could feel it. She wanted to stop talking to prevent further damage, but her emotions took her whole.

"I stole this from some rando after I beat his ass. I've had this for around 2 years now and until you came along, it was unscathed."

"Vi..." Caitlyn warned.,

"Sure, there were some dirt and sweat stains here and there, but that's what gave this jacket character. It's what made this jacket more like me because even though it was dirty, grimy, and stinky, it preserved through all the shit it went through," Vi continued.

You weren't sure if you were crying. Your eyes stung like you were, but the rest of your body shut down. Vi's words were like piercing sharp arrows flying through the wind and your body was the target. You've mastered the heart of tuning out lengthy and emotional lectures thanks to your parents, but all that skill was no match for Vi's words.

"All it took. All it took was your careless thinking and some fucking paint to ruin the one thing that felt like me. Thanks for that." Vi threw the jacket into the sink and went upstairs.

She didn't bother to look you or Caitlyn in the eye.

It's been a few days and you and Vi haven't talked. The first few days you didn't talk because the wounds were still fresh but as the silence grew and the wounds began to heal, the problem was finding the right words to say.

You've tried to apologize for the jacket multiple times, but she wouldn't hear it. Caitlyn even took the jacket to the cleaners to get the stains out, but Vi didn't want to see it.

Every time Vi got a glimpse of you or the jacket hanging in the closet, she knew she had to apologize to you. She wanted to apologize to you, but she didn't know how. Caitlyn tried to help countless of times, but no avail.

Sleeping arrangements were worse.

Vi slept on the couch the first few nights and then after some coaxing by Caitlyn, Vi slept on the furtherest side of the bed. Typically she liked to be in the middle or you would be in the middle, but as of late, she slept on the left and you slept on the right.

Poor Caitlyn had to sleep in the middle. She hated the middle. She didn't like how warm the two of you were in the night, making her burn up. She didn't like how if she wanted to read or work in bed, she couldn't turn the nightstand lamp on. The middle was awful. She wanted her right side back.

The night of the week anniversary of the argument, you and Vi stumbled into the bedroom to find Caitlyn sitting on the edge of the bed and glaring at the two of you.

"I am not sleeping in the middle any longer," she declared. "You two are too warm, I don't have enough arm or leg room, and I can't read which means I'm restless every time I sleep!" Caitlyn stood from the bed, arms crossed over her body. "And to be fair, I've grown tired of your childish argument. You two are grown adults. Talk your shit out so we can sleep in our rightful places."

You and Vi glanced at each other.

You already said your apology. What else could you say? It wasn't like you could offer her a meal, it was too late to eat and you definitely weren't saying another apology,

Vi sighed, looking away first. She shrugged, going to the left side of the bed. Caitlyn stopped her by pushing a hand to her chest. "Nuh-uh," Caitlyn eyed her. She pointed towards your direction with her brows furrowed. Vi groaned and walked back over to you.

"Oh, well that's one way to make a person feel warm and fuzzy inside," you scoffed. Vi rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please, you mean like ruining someone's jacket?"

"It wasn't on purpose!" you exclaimed. "You know it wasn't on purpose. I understand your being upset for my clumsiness and lack of awareness when it comes to wet paint, but you can't still be mad at me for something I got fixed."'

"You didn't even fix it," Vi rolled her eyes again. "One of Caitlyn's fancy buddies did."

"And who do you think paid for that?" you scoffed at her. "It might've been a buddy of hers but I still had to pay full price for a Piltover dry cleaning service. I don't believe in waving money and prices over people's faces, but since you want to go there, that cost me two months' worth of payments and as a starving artist, that's a lot of money to recover."

Vi only shrugged as her mouth converted into some sort of frown. She didn't know you had to pay 1,200 dollars to get her jacket fixed. She could've been more grateful and showed you some gratitude for getting her jacket cleaned, but you were the one who ruined it anyway. It was your job to get the jacket cleaned.

Caitlyn sighed. "Vi, stop being stubborn and say 'thank you' and an apology."

"Why should I have to say an apology?" Vi knew why, though she didn't want to admit it aloud.

"Why?" Caitlyn scoffed. "Vi, I knew you were thick-headed but I never thought it to be this extreme." Shaking her head, Caitlyn climbed into bed. "Fine then. Don't apologize and don't patch things up. I'm tired of being the referee."

Something stirred inside Vi. It wasn't anger or contentment, but instead a sadness. Not only is she unable to patch things up with you, but now she's dragged Caitlyn into this mess. Caitlyn was the peacemaker because Vi, herself, was unable to make peace with anything.

Caitlyn didn't deserve this. You didn't either.

If Vi didn't nip this in the bud, she was going to lose the both of you. She was going to lose the only people who saw her for her and loved her regardless of her faults.

"I'm sorry," the words stumbled out of Vi like a baby bird trying to fly for the first time, "to the both of you."

Caitlyn peered up at her with a book in her hand. You, who hasn't said or done anything since the last time you spoke, met her gaze.

"Muffin, I'm sorry for lashing out on you and not being mature enough to handle this situation properly. You trying to hide the bag is on me because I should've created a space where you can come to me about anything. Even if you think it may upset me."

"It's okay--"

"It's not okay. You don't have to forgive me or say some line like, 'Oh, everyone gets angry sometimes'. No. It's not okay and I apologize for my behavior. I'm working on it." Vi put a hesitant hand on your shoulder. When you allowed her to, she smiled and pressed a kiss ot your temple.

"And, Cupcake," Vi addressed Caitlyn. Caitlyn hummed in response. "I'm sorry for roping you into this and not realizing how miserable you were while Muffin and I fought."

"Yeah," you chimed. "I'm sorry about that too. You didn't deserve any of this."

A soft smile rested upon Caitlyn's lips. She motioned the two of you over, willingly wanting to be in the middle so she could hug you both. You and Vi gathered by her side, wrapping an arm around her. "I love you too, lugs," Caitlyn said behind a laugh. "I hope we can all learn from this."

"Yeah," you said behind a grin. "I learned that Caitlyn is severely ticklish and will cave immediately after a few seconds of tickling."

"What?" Caitlyn blushed. "No, that was not the lesson here," she nervously chuckled, her blush already spreading to her ears.

Vi laughed along with you. "Yeah, actually. I accidentally found that out like a month or two ago and only used it the day of the fiasco."

You gasped. "You found out and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, I didn't know how!" Vi laughed.

"Now, hang on a minute," Caitlyn said trying to catch your attention.

"Well, now I feel left out." "Who's to say you can't tickle her now?"

"Hold on!" Caitlyn pleaded but it was too late. Your hands and fingers found the soft skin on her stomach and laughs roared out of her. Vi joined the activity, tickling some of her neck.

Even after a week of drama, the love between the three of you remained. Plus, you guys even got some giggles out of it.

WC: 3,877

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