violentine lemons. 🍋

Realization

i dont know if anyone still read these but anywhss🦾

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"I swear," Clem says, sweet breath poisoning the evening air, "He'll be the death of me."

Violet watches as her best friend pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her purse, sharp red nails clawing like talons as she hunts for her lighter. She doesn't watch the way her scarlet lips curve and part as she speaks. No, and she doesn't watch the way her eyelashes, so long and dark and every bit picture-perfect, blink so slowly, so languidly, like a cat. Like a panther. Like she's a predator.

"It's not that I care, Vi," The brunette tells her quickly, every word escaping her mouth like smoke, disappearing in an instant, "I don't. Of course I don't."

"Judging from the way you keep checking your phone," Violet murmurs with the quietest of sighs, "You care."

Clem doesn't seem to hear her. She's too busy taking a drag, too busy exhaling and practically purring with delight as she watches the smoke curl up and fade away. Her eyes are alight, her hunger never satiated. She's constantly craving more. She wants chaos, she wants sex, she wants to raise hell.

And Violet? Violet just wants to go home. "Clem it's 10pm, far too early for the night to end just yet." Clementine just shifts her weight back and forth, balancing on one of her heels, and then the other.

"I fucking hate men," says Clem, and Vi knows she's lying. She's said it a million times. Oh, she hates men, she's never dating one again.. And then, three days later, Vi sees her with a boy's tongue down her throat and his hands in her pants. Violating her in a way that she shouldn't allow.

"Sure you do," Violet sighs. "That's why we're here, right?"

She pretends that she isn't watching Clementine's long, delicate fingers drop the cigarette and snuff it out with her heel. She pretends that she's not stealing glances at her legs, at her too-perfect calves and her caramel toned thighs peeking out from her miniskirt. And, of course, she's not admiring her hips, and the way that her tight clothes hug her figure, illuminating every fucking detail. Obviously, she doesn't watch as Clementine pulls out her blood-red lipstick and starts to apply it to her red, red lips.

The things that the older girl would do to her lips.

Or, rather, what she wants those lips to do to her.

She closes her eyes, and she tells herself she's going to hell.

"Yes." Clem agrees, "That's exactly why we're here. To forget about guys."

When Vi opens her eyes, "Not like they were ever in my mind anyways," The blonde snorted, Clementine's staring at her with her uncannily sharp gaze. With her predator eyes, with the silent agreement that she would tear Violet limb to limb given the opportunity. Oh, Violet wouldn't mind death if it was by her hands.

"You've never hooked up with someone, have you?" she asks, tracing Vi's jawline with her sharp nail. She doesn't remember how to breathe for a second, but she collects herself, like she always does.

Violet finds the idea laughable. Of course, it's not like she's been with a woman, either. Even if she's been an out lesbian. No, not Violet, In high school, she was a laughingstock. A mockery. Was she a boy or a girl, people asked, what did she have underneath those sweaters and baggy pants? Was she desperate? Was she secretly a slut, hidden under layers of gray clothing and self-hatred?

Not even Clementine could fix her back then.

She shakes her head. "Of course not. You know that." She laughs, even if she doesn't feel like laughing.