cw: eating disorder, pls pls pls don’t read if you struggle with one or has struggled before, it’s not the habits itself but it could be triggering for some people, hurt/comfort, vi trying to be supportive
wc: 2.7k
notes: this is basically a vent post, if you’re uncomfortable with the subject pls don’t read, i just needed to get some things out of my chest and be comforted somehow lmao. and if you’re struggling with any of this pls know that you’re loved and deserving of good things
Growing up, you were always a little bigger than the other girls. It wasn’t something you even thought about at first—kids didn’t care about that stuff. But then your mom started making those comments every time you reached for seconds at dinner.
“You’ll never find anyone if you keep eating like that,” she’d say, half-laughing like it was a joke, half-serious like she meant every word.
And gods, those words stuck. They crawled under your skin, settled somewhere soft and breakable, and stayed.
You learned to make yourself smaller in every way except the one you desperately wished you could change. You hunched your shoulders, tugged your shirts forward to stretch them looser, hid behind jackets even when the weather was hot enough to melt asphalt. You dodged mirrors, ducked out of photos, and tried not to notice the way people’s eyes slid over you when you walked into a room.
By your teens, you were a professional at punishment disguised as discipline. You counted calories like sins, breathed in guilt with every bite of something you actually liked, and ran laps around the block until your legs shook. All because you believed that if you just tried harder—if you just shrank enough—you’d finally be enough. Small. Delicate. Beautiful.
And maybe then someone would love you.
But life has a funny way of proving you wrong.
College came, and with it, distance from your family. Being away from their scrutiny gave you room to breathe—room to try on a version of yourself that wasn’t held together by shame. You got a little more comfortable in your skin, enough to walk across campus without folding inward.
Still, the voice in the back of your mind never really shut up. It hovered behind every meal, every outfit, every stray thought. Are you sure? Do you really need that? Do you think anyone’s looking at you kindly?
Then Vi crashed into your life like a storm that didn’t ask permission to roll in. Loud. Warm. Shameless. She made being attracted to you sound like the easiest, most natural thing in the world—and you had absolutely no idea what to do with that. Or with yourself.
You remember the first night vividly—a friend’s birthday party, the bar too crowded, too loud. You were weaving through the bodies to grab drinks when she leaned an elbow against the counter beside you, smirking like you’d already told her a joke.
“You always look at people like you’re about to figure them out,” she said, eyes glinting with mischief. “Kinda dangerous, you know?”
You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Dangerous?”
“Mm-hm.” She tapped her finger against the counter. “Yeah. Like you’re reading their whole damn soul while just ordering a drink.”
Your face burned instantly. You laughed—too quickly, too softly—pretending your heart wasn’t doing gymnastics in your chest. “I think you’re giving me too much credit.”
Vi’s grin widened, slow and knowing. “Nah. I think I’m givin’ you just enough.”
From the start, Vi carried this kind of energy that didn’t just walk into a room—it took it over. Loud, magnetic, impossible to ignore. And when that attention, that bright, reckless gravity, landed on you… it was blinding. For a split second, you thought, Maybe this is it. Maybe being seen by someone like her will finally make me feel different.
She had this way of looking at you, too—like you were some rare gem she had stumbled upon, holding you in her gaze with this quiet certainty. It felt like she was peeling back the layers you’d spent years building up: the self-doubt, the practiced polite smile, the instinct to shrink yourself down. She saw through all of it. Sometimes it terrified you how much she seemed to see.
But then you’d go home. Stand in front of the bathroom mirror under that awful, unforgiving yellow light. And the same old reflection stared back: shoulders tense, jaw tight, stomach twisting with familiar disappointment. That voice—the one shaped like your mother’s, like every offhand comment from childhood—would start whispering again.
How could someone like Vi want someone like you?
You remember it clearly: the way her hand settled on your waist that first night you met. Warm. Steady. So sure it made your breath hitch. Her thumb brushed over your skin like she didn’t even realize the places you tried so desperately to hide. Like she didn’t see them at all—or worse, like she didn’t mind.
And when you made love for the first time, she looked straight into your eyes with this impossible softness, like she was asking you to trust her. But all you could think about was how much of you she could feel. How exposed you were. How there was no way she wasn’t noticing the parts you always wished you could cut away.
That look should’ve comforted you. Should’ve made something inside you calm down and breathe for once. But instead it made your chest ache, sharp and tight.
How could she look at you like that and not feel disgusted?
The thought crawled into your head and dug itself deep. Because people like Vi—good, kind, stupidly attractive—didn’t stay. They never did. And you? You weren’t the person people chose twice. You were the detour, the warm-up act, the lesson someone learned before they moved on to the real thing.
So you did what you’d always done: built your walls higher. Laughed when she flirted, rolled your eyes at her compliments, pretended they bounced right off you. Tried to convince yourself this was casual, easy, temporary. Just two people having fun.
But every time she said your name in that soft, teasing drawl—like she loved the shape of it—something inside you cracked, thin as glass.
That’s when the old habits started creeping back in.
At first, you told yourself it was for the better. College had made you sedentary, your schedule was a mess, and Vi—well, Vi was the most athletic person you knew. Always moving, always sweating, always doing something with that restless strength of hers. It made sense, you said. You wanted something in common with her. Something to make you feel like you belonged at her side.
But slowly, the same rules you swore you’d buried started resurfacing. Quiet at first. Easy to excuse. Then louder.
You found yourself keeping track of everything again: calories, steps, the number flashing back at you from the scale every morning. You told yourself it was discipline. Improvement. Structure.
But the pit in your stomach knew better.
One afternoon, after Vi finished sparring at the campus gym, you gathered your courage. She was wiping sweat from her forehead, hair sticking to her temples, muscles still warm and tense from exertion. You pretended not to stare.
“Hey,” you said casually—or you hoped it sounded casual. “Do you think… maybe we could work out together? Sometimes?”
Vi’s grin spread fast, bright. She tossed her towel over her shoulder and bumped her hip into yours. “Hell yeah, babe. You tryna keep up with me now?”
You snorted, nudging her back. “Maybe I’ll get stronger than you someday.”
She laughed, low and cocky. “Good luck with that,” she said, flicking sweat from her hair as she walked toward the lockers.
You grinned back at her, but the smile slipped the second her back was turned. Your throat tightened around the joke. The thought crept in again, sour and heavy:
Maybe you’d have to earn the right to stand next to someone like her.
You told yourself it wasn’t about her. It was about being “healthier.” About “self-improvement.” You repeated the words until they sounded noble instead of desperate, until they almost drowned out the guilt curling in your chest.
But Vi wasn’t stupid.
She noticed things—always had. She noticed how every time she stayed over, you were “too busy” or “not hungry yet” for breakfast. How your lunch portions kept shrinking. How your fridge slowly filled with diet sodas, lowcal snacks, and protein bars while all the foods you loved disappeared.
At first, she brushed it off. People went through fitness phases; she wasn’t going to nag you over a few changes.
But then it kept happening.
She saw how quickly you were losing weight. How your clothes hung differently. How your skin looked duller, your energy flatter. How your laugh didn’t come as easily.
She noticed the way you stopped sharing dessert with her—something that used to be your thing. The way you lingered in front of the mirror after a shower, staring at your reflection like you were sizing up an opponent instead of your own body.
You were getting smaller, yes.
But also quieter. Dimmer.
And Vi hated it—hated watching you shrink away.
One night, she showed up at your place unannounced—hair still damp from the shower, her hoodie clinging to her shoulders. She smelled faintly of her citrusy body wash, warm and sharp in the way that always made your chest feel tight.
You were curled up on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, an untouched bowl of popcorn resting in your lap. It had been there for over an hour. You hadn’t taken a single bite.
Vi kicked off her boots by the door and dropped onto the couch beside you with a dramatic sigh. “You know popcorn isn’t dinner, right?” she said, nudging your thigh with her knee.
You didn’t look up. “Yeah, I had dinner earlier.”
The lie came out smooth—too smooth. Too familiar.
Vi leaned over and peered into the bowl. “Dinner, huh? What was it—oxygen?”
You forced a laugh, sharp and short. “Funny.”
She didn’t laugh with you. Instead, her expression shifted—something subtle, something careful. She leaned an elbow on the back of the couch and just… looked at you. Really looked.
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” she said quietly.
Your fingers tightened around your phone. “Doing what?”
“Lying about what you ate.”
Your stomach twisted so violently you had to swallow down the sudden nausea. The room seemed to shrink, walls pulling inward.
“Vi, I’m fine,” you said quickly. Too quickly. “You don’t need to—”
“Hey.”
Her voice softened as she cut you off, the way she did when she wanted you to hear her without feeling pushed. “I’m not tryna get on your case. I just…” She dragged a hand through her damp hair, droplets flicking off her fingers. “You’ve been different. You barely eat when I’m here. You’re always tired. And you keep pushing yourself like you’re prepping for some underground cage fight.”
Her jaw flexed. “Did I—” She hesitated, the bravado slipping, “did I do something wrong?”
The question cracked something in you.
You shook your head, blinking hard. “No, Vi. You didn’t do anything.”
“Then what is it?”
Her voice was warm, but there was a thread of fear beneath it—fear of losing you, fear of hurting you without knowing how.
You swallowed, the words thick and sticky. “I’m just… trying to be better. For you.”
Vi’s brows pinched together, confusion cutting into hurt. “Better?”
Your throat burned. You stared at your hands, picking at a loose thread in your blanket. “You could have anyone, Vi. Anyone. I just… I don’t wanna be the one you settle for.”
Silence fell. Heavy. The kind that made your ears ring.
Vi exhaled slowly and shifted closer until her knee pressed against yours. She didn’t force you to look at her. She waited—patient in a way that Vi wasn’t with anyone else.
“Settle for you?” she repeated, voice low, almost disbelieving. “Babe… look at me.”
Reluctantly, you did.
Her eyes were steady, soft but fierce, like she could stare down every cruel thought you’d ever had about yourself.
“I don’t stick around ‘cause I have to,” she said. “I’m here ‘cause I want to. You think I care what size you wear? Hell—” her mouth twitched into a half-smile, “you could be wrapped in three layers of sweatpants and a damn duvet, and I’d still think you’re the hottest thing on this planet.”
You let out a brittle laugh that cracked halfway through. “You don’t get it, Vi—”
“No,” she cut in firmly, but not unkindly. Her hand slid up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing gently under your eye. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I’ll never fully get what’s going on in your head. But I do know this—”
She leaned in, forehead nearly touching yours.
“You don’t gotta earn me. Not by starving yourself. Not by training yourself into the ground. You don’t have to change to be loved.”
Her thumb stroked your cheek, slow and grounding.
Something in you splintered at her words—not in the painful way you’d grown used to, but in a gentler way, like a crack letting light in where everything had once been dark.
You tried to blink it away, to swallow it down, to pretend you weren’t trembling. But Vi noticed. She always noticed.
“C’mere,” she murmured.
She didn’t wait for permission this time. She shifted closer and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently—slowly—into her chest. And you let yourself go, leaning into her warmth like you were finally allowed to be held.
Her hoodie was soft and still warm from her shower. You could feel her heartbeat under your cheek, steady and solid in a way that made something tight inside you loosen.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You just breathed—her chest rising and falling against you, her hand tracing slow, absentminded circles on your arm like she was trying to soothe something she couldn’t see.
Eventually, she tilted her head, her nose brushing your hair. “You know,” she whispered, “when I met you, I thought you were the most confident person in the room.”
You let out a humorless huff. “Then you’re a terrible judge of character.”
“No,” she said softly, “I’m good at reading people. I just didn’t realize how good you were at hiding.”
Your throat tightened. You clenched your fingers in the fabric of her hoodie. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she asked immediately.
“For… being like this,” you whispered. “For not being enough.”
Her grip tightened around you so fast it startled you.
“Hey,” she said, pulling back just enough to see your face. Her eyes were shining—not angry, but intense, unwavering. “Don’t you ever apologize for that. Not to me. Not to anyone.”
You looked down, but she nudged your chin up with her knuckle.
“I’m serious. You’re not ‘too much’ or ‘not enough.’ You’re just… you. And I like you.” Her voice softened on the last two words. “A lot more than I should, honestly.”
That earned the ghost of a smile from you, which made her relax a little.
“There she is,” Vi murmured, brushing her thumb across your cheekbone. “Knew you were still in there somewhere.”
For a moment, you let the silence settle again—safer now, warmer.
Then, quietly, you admitted, “I don’t know how to stop. The food stuff. The… rules. It’s been in my head for so long, Vi, I don’t know how to make it go away.”
She didn’t look scared. She didn’t pull back. She didn’t act like you were a burden.
She just nodded, slow and thoughtful. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”
You blinked, startled. “Together?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You and me. One step at a time. You don’t have to do this alone. And I’m not gonna let you tear yourself apart trying to be someone you think I want.”
Her hand slid down your arm until she found your fingers and laced them with hers, squeezing gently.
“I want you,” she said. “Exactly as you are. Mess and all.”
Your breath shook, and you weren’t sure if you were going to cry or collapse. Maybe both.
Vi softened, leaning in to bump her forehead gently against yours. “And if that voice in your head starts talkin’ shit again,” she whispered, “tell me. I’ll fight it.”
You let out a wet laugh. “You can’t fight a voice in my head, Vi.”
Her lips curved into a smirk. “Babe, I’ll fight anything if it’s hurting you.”
Then, quieter, almost vulnerable: “Just let me.”
And for the first time in forever the voice in your head had quieted down, and you felt safe.
just checking in how u been hermosa?? hope everything is okay!! we luv u lils
sara ⭐🫶
hii lovely !!
god, so many things happened lately i’m so sorry for not being active, some bad, some not but i’m doing okayish, i won’t promise i’ll be back bc ill be moving to a different city beginning of next year but i really want to get back into writing 😭😭
summary: y/n rebuilt her life in piltover, burying the trauma—and the love—she lost in the undercity.
But when vi reappears, alive and changed, the memories she buried begin to claw their way back.
some ghosts don't stay dead. and some wounds never heal.
wc: 6k
cw: angst (lot of it), and tears, so much crying in this chapter omg, also there is a some suggestive content, nothing explicit but if you’re uncomfortable with it, it starts after they arrive at reader’s house and ends ai “Unfortunately, the bubble you and bi created”
notes: next chapter is the last one 😭😭😭 we’re coming to an end omg. sorry for taking this long to update, as i said last chapter my life would be a little insane for a week or so 😔 got a job interview and we’re starting test week in the school i work at and also i got sick. anyways here’s the chapter!!
masterlist - part six
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The four of you left the Firelights’ hideout with a clear purpose: get the gemstone to Piltover’s Council. It should’ve been simple—Ekko leading the way, Caitlyn at his side, you and Vi bringing up the rear—but nothing about this night felt simple. The air itself felt wired, thick with the kind of tension you couldn’t shake. Something was going to happen.
Vi had been quiet the entire walk. Not her usual brooding quiet, but something heavier, a silence that pressed against her chest until her shoulders hunched with it. She kept her eyes down, jaw tight, like every thought she didn’t say out loud was eating her alive.
You slowed your pace until you were beside her. “Vi,” you whispered, searching her face. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, brushing you off, her voice low and rough. “Doesn’t matter.”
But it did. You knew it did. Because halfway across the bridge, she stopped cold.
“Vi?” You turned back, concern spiking as Ekko and Caitlyn both halted too.
Her eyes flicked up, full of guilt and something close to fear. Her voice broke when she said, “I can’t leave her again.”
The words cut through you like a blade. Jinx. Powder. Her sister.
Ekko’s jaw clenched. He shook his head, his tone sharp. “You can’t change her.”
“I have to try.”
He scoffed, frustrated, but when he stepped forward, it wasn’t to fight her. It was to pull her into a quick, fierce hug. “Then don’t get yourself killed,” he muttered against her shoulder.
Vi let out a soft, shaky laugh, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No promises.”
Caitlyn turned to you then, her gaze steady, asking the question without words: You’re going with her, aren’t you?
You nodded. Of course you were. Leaving Vi now wasn’t even an option.
Caitlyn pulled you into a hug—tighter than you expected, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary—before turning to Vi and giving her the same.
“It’s been real, Cupcake,” Vi said with a smirk, though her eyes softened. “Thanks for everything.”
Then Vi looked at you. Really looked. For a second, the chaos of Zaun, of Piltover, of everything that had broken both your lives seemed to fall away. Her voice cracked when she admitted, “I don’t want to lose you again. But I can’t turn my back on Powder. Not this time.”
Your chest squeezed tight, but you forced a crooked laugh, trying to hold her steady. “Good thing you’re not losing me, then.”
Her rough hand found yours, her grip almost bruising in its desperation, and you squeezed back just as firmly before the two of you turned toward the end of the bridge.
You hadn’t made it far when the sharp crack of a gunshot split the night.
“Caitlyn!” you screamed, instinct snapping you towards the sound.
Up ahead, Marcus stood with his gun raised, barrel aimed right between Caitlyn’s eyes. Panic surged through you like a live wire. You and Vi broke into a sprint, hearts pounding, but before you could reach them the air filled with the roar of engines.
A storm of Firelights swarmed the bridge, green-glowing wings blotting out the night sky. The air shimmered with their light.
“Stay back” You yanked Vi’s arm, forcing her down behind a steel barricade as the swarm tightened its circle. “There’s something wrong,” you hissed, scanning the scene.
The Firelights weren’t attacking Caitlyn. They weren’t attacking Ekko. Not even Marcus. They hovered, waiting. Watching.
Vi’s voice tore out of her, raw and frantic. “We can’t just leave them there!”
“I know!” you shouted over the buzzing engines, keeping your body pressed to hers so she wouldn’t break cover. “But if we rush in blind, we’ll just get ourselves killed—we need to be smart about this!”
As if answering you, the bridge erupted with explosions. Bright green fire burst from the Firelights, rattling the steel beneath your boots. Clouds of acrid smoke filled the air, burning your throat and making your eyes sting. You pulled Vi down again, covering your head as the blasts rolled over the barricades.
Her hand clutched your arm through it all, trembling with the need to run, to fight, to do something. But you held her tight, because right now survival was the only option.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the explosions tapered off. The smoke began to thin. The only sounds left were the crackle of distant fire and the faint groan of the bridge settling.
You slowly lifted your head above the barricade, coughing, heart still hammering. “Go look for Ekko,” you rasped, turning to Vi. “I’ll see if I can find Caitlyn.”
The scene before you was a battlefield—bodies of enforcers sprawled lifeless across the bridge, weapons still clutched in their stiff hands, their armor stained green from the smoke. The acrid stench of burnt metal and flesh clung to the air, heavy enough to make your stomach twist.
Through the haze, you spotted Caitlyn, half-collapsed near Marcus’ body. Her face was pale, twisted in pain, blood coming out of one of her legs.
“C’mon, we have to get out of here.” You crouched, slipping your arm under her shoulders and hoisting her up. She hissed in pain, but clung to you anyway, every breath ragged.
You turned, searching for Vi—only for another shot to crack through the smoke, sharp and close.
“Vi!?” you called, panic spiking.
She emerged then, pushing through the smoke, eyes wide and rimmed with guilt. Her expression twisted when she saw Caitlyn leaning on you, but she quickly rushed over, steadying her from the other side.
And that’s when you saw her.
Jinx.
Her silhouette flickered out of the smoke, her wild eyes locked on you. In her hands—Ekko’s case. The gemstone.
“Shit” you breathed.
Jinx didn’t hesitate. She raised her gun and opened fire, bullets ripping past you, sparking off steel and stone. You and Vi ducked, pulling Caitlyn down with you.
But before the world could tilt further, a blur of movement cut through the smoke. Ekko. He soared in on his board, the glow arcing like a comet as he slammed into Jinx with all the fury he’d been holding back.
He took the case from her grasp, throwing it towards you.
“Go!” Ekko barked, his voice cracking with urgency as he shoved you back.
You didn’t think—you just went. Caitlyn was coughing, limping, every step a struggle, but you and Vi half-carried her across the bridge, dragging her away from the carnage.
Vi’s head whipped back, her body wanting to go back. She wanted to turn, to stay, to throw herself back into the fight.
“We have to go!” you shouted, your voice raw as smoke scraped your throat.
You didn’t slow until you ducked into a narrow alley off the bridge, pressing Caitlyn against the wall so she could catch her breath.
“We need to get her to her house,” you told Vi, chest heaving.
But Vi wasn’t listening. Her gaze was still turned back toward the chaos, jaw clenched, fists trembling at her sides. “I have to…” she whispered under her breath, her eyes flickering to you. “Will you be okay with her? I’ll be right back—”
A squad of enforcers stormed past the mouth of the alley, boots pounding, weapons ready. Vi froze, instinct warring with reason.
“You’re not leaving us,” you snapped, grabbing her arm and yanking her back. “You can’t just go charging off every time she shows up. That’s getting old, Vi—I’m tired of it.”
Her face twisted, her eyes burning as she tried to argue. “But I have to. She’s still there—I know she is.”
“Violet,” you said, voice sharp but trembling. You forced her to look at you. “She’s gone. That’s not Powder anymore. That’s not your sister.”
The words hit her like a blade, but before Vi could fire back, Caitlyn’s weak voice broke the moment.
“It’s gone,” she whispered, horror lacing every syllable. Her hands shook as she held up the case—open. Empty.
“What?” Vi’s head snapped toward her, panic flashing across her face. She tore the case from Caitlyn’s hands, but the gemstone was truly gone. Her gaze darted back to the street, back where she had left her sister.
She stood frozen, torn in two—between you and Caitlyn, and the ghost of the girl she used to know.
“Vi, please.” You stepped forward, catching her hand in yours. Her knuckles were white, trembling against your palm. For a moment, you thought she might break—run back into the smoke and leave you both behind.
But then her shoulders slumped, her breath ragged as tears stung her eyes. She turned, wiping them quickly away before anyone could see, and slipped her arm under Caitlyn’s again.
“Okay,” she rasped, voice low and hoarse. “Where is her house?”
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The way to the Kiramman estate was brutal—every step slow, tense. You and Vi half-carried Caitlyn through the twisting alleys, ducking into shadows whenever the thunder of enforcer boots drew too close. The gemstone was gone, the bridge still burning in your minds, and Caitlyn’s ragged breaths reminded you of just how close you all had come to losing each other.
By the time the city began to soften into manicured stone streets, the first streaks of sunlight were rising over Piltover. Golden light spilled through iron fences and reflected off tall windows. For once, the city didn’t look sharp or hostile—it looked… asleep. Unaware. The contrast to the chaos you’d just escaped was almost unbearable.
When you finally reached the Kiramman estate, you tilted your head back, staring up at the towering walls and spotless windows. Caitlyn’s bedroom was on the first floor, but her windows were set high, elegant and narrow. Beautiful. Impractical.
“I hate you and your high fancy windows,” you muttered, shifting Caitlyn’s weight against your side.
Caitlyn managed a small chuckle, though it broke into a hiss of pain as she leaned too heavily on her bad leg. “They weren’t designed with emergencies in mind.”
You exhaled sharply and glanced at Vi. “You go first. Pull her up. She’s not climbing that with her leg the way it is.”
“Yeah,” Vi said with a nod. She lingered for a moment, eyes sweeping over the massive facade of the house. “Damn… it’s huge. Who lives here? Another Councilor friend of yours?”
Her voice was light, but you caught the edge beneath it—disbelief, maybe even bitterness.
Once inside, the air was different—quiet, polished, smelling faintly of lavender oil and clean linen. Vi’s eyes darted everywhere: the plush carpet, the paintings lining the walls, the heavy furniture that looked too expensive to touch.
You were still easing Caitlyn down onto her bed when the door slammed open with a sharp crack. Her mother stood in the doorway, a rifle leveled in her hand.
“Caitlyn?” Her voice was sharp, commanding—but the instant her eyes landed on her daughter, the tone shifted. Confusion, then something that looked dangerously close to fear.
Her father appeared a heartbeat later, practically shoving past her. His expression was wild with worry. “Oh, we were so worried! Thank goodness you’re safe!” He crossed the room in a flash, folding Caitlyn into his arms with a kind of desperate relief you hadn’t expected from the man.
Then his eyes landed on you. His arms widened without hesitation. “Oh, Y/N, you’re alive too!” He pulled you into the embrace before you could protest. It felt… odd. Too sudden, too raw. You weren’t close to Caitlyn’s parents. You’d maybe exchanged a few polite words before. Still, his grip was firm.
“And you found a stray,” her mother’s voice cut in, cool and cutting. She hadn’t lowered the gun, though it now hung loosely at her side. Her gaze was fixed on Vi like she was some animal that had clawed its way in.
“This is Vi,” Caitlyn explained, her patience steady despite the exhaustion dragging at her features “She’s from the undercity.”
“So I see.” The words were laced with disdain, her smile sharp and false. Then, with a glance at Caitlyn, she added, “Could we have a word? In private.”
Caitlyn sighed, long-suffering, before finally nodding. Her father slipped an arm around her, helping her rise to her feet with tenderness.
Her mother lingered a moment longer, her pistol disappearing into the folds of her robe as though it had never been there. Then, without another word, the two of them shepherded Caitlyn out of the room.
The door clicked shut.
Silence fell immediately — heavy, suffocating, as though the whole manor held its breath. You and Vi were left standing in the middle of a world that wasn’t yours: polished wood that gleamed under warm light, embroidered cushions that looked too delicate to sit on, walls adorned with wealth you couldn’t imagine touching.
You shifted uneasily, your boots squeaking against the floor. Vi stood stiff beside you, her hands flexing restlessly at her sides.
Finally, she let out a low breath, half a laugh slipping through like she was trying to force the air lighter than it was. “So…” her voice cracked around the word. “She lives here?”
“Yeah,” you murmured, eyes drifting over the gilded edges of Caitlyn’s dresser, the spotless surfaces that seemed untouchable. “Hard to believe, right?”
Vi snorted softly and reached out, dragging her calloused fingers across the smooth wooden edge of the dresser. She tapped it like she was testing whether it was real. “Hard to believe anyone lives like this,” she muttered, her voice caught between awe and disdain.
But the silence that followed wasn’t filled with humor. It was heavy, thick with the echo of everything that had been said earlier — words you hadn’t meant to throw, truths that had come out sharper than you’d intended. Your chest ached with the weight of them.
Vi’s gaze had dropped to the floor, her shoulders rounded in on themselves like she was bracing for another blow. You felt that pit open in your stomach again — the guilt gnawing, reminding you that while Vi would never blame you, you didn’t want to pile all of this on her shoulders. Not when she already carried too much.
You drew in a shaky breath and stepped closer. It felt strange, almost foreign — after so much time apart, you had to remind yourself how to reach for her, how to make her feel safe again. Your hand hovered for a second before you let it rest gently on her arm.
“I need you to know…” Your voice was quiet, but steady. “I don’t blame you for wanting to try and save Jin—” The name stuck in your throat, a sharp splinter. You forced yourself to correct it, softer this time. “—to try and save Powder.”
Vi’s head snapped up. For the first time since Caitlyn had left the room, her eyes met yours — wide, glassy, and full of hurt she couldn’t hide.
“You didn’t know what happened to her,” you continued, the words tumbling out before you could hesitate. “If you want to blame someone… then blame me. Blame me for not sticking around, for not looking for you, for not taking care of her.”
You lifted your hand and cradled her face, brushing your thumb across the tattoo of her name, as gently as you could, like she might break under your touch. She didn’t flinch, but her jaw trembled.
“They were my family too,” you whispered. “And unlike you — who didn’t have a choice — I did. And I still turned around.”
Her lips parted, a quiet inhale catching on the edge of a sob she refused to let free. She leaned ever so slightly into your hand, like she needed the anchor, even as guilt battled in her expression.
“Don’t,” she rasped finally, her voice breaking through the silence like gravel. Her hand came up to curl around your wrist where it cupped her cheek. “Don’t you dare put that on yourself.”
You blinked, startled. “Vi—”
“No.” She shook her head hard, as though trying to shake the thought from your mind. Her grip tightened, not painful, but firm, grounding. “You did what you had to do. You survived. You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t know how strong you had to be just to… just to keep going without us?”
Her voice cracked, but she kept going, relentless, her words spilling faster, harsher. “You didn’t abandon her. You didn’t abandon me. We all… we all got screwed over. And if you weren’t there, if you couldn’t stay—” her jaw trembled, her chest rising and falling unevenly. “—that’s not on you. It’s not.”
You tried to look away, but she leaned in closer, forcing you to meet her eyes. They glistened, the storm in them threatening to swallow you whole.
“Blame me,” she said like a plea. Her voice dropped low. “Blame me for everything if it makes it easier. But don’t you ever carry that weight. You hear me?”
The words lodged in your throat, too big to swallow. Your hand trembled where it still held her face.
Something shifted in the air between you. The guilt, the grief, the years apart — it all twisted into something heavier. Her eyes flicked from yours down to your mouth, then back again. You felt it too — the pull, the ache that had always been there, waiting.
You whispered, barely audible. “Vi…”
Her name was all you managed before she surged forward.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, bruising, an eruption of everything neither of you had dared to say. Her hands cupped your face, pulling you in like she was terrified you’d vanish again. You clutched at her shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of her jacket as though holding her there would stop time from stealing her away.
Tears pricked your eyes, hot and unrelenting, slipping down your cheeks only to be caught by her skin. Vi kissed you through them, her mouth tasting of salt and sorrow and something fierce — a promise buried beneath the pain.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads pressed together, panting into the narrow space between.
The sound of the door creaking open snapped you both back to reality.
“Oh—” Caitlyn froze, her hand still on the doorknob. Her eyes widened before she quickly looked away, her voice stumbling. “I’m… sorry for interrupting.”
The air shifted instantly, heavy again, almost suffocating. Vi pulled back just slightly, her fingers still laced with yours like she wasn’t ready to let go.
Caitlyn cleared her throat, closing the door behind her with a soft click as if to contain the moment she had just walked in on. “My mother said we’ll present our case to the Council tonight.”
You straightened, guilt and responsibility clawing their way back into your chest. The reality of what awaited you all pressed down, drowning the fragile warmth that had sparked just moments ago.
The Council. Mel. The explanation you owed her. You’d vanished on her with nothing more than a hurried “I have to help Caitlyn”—barely an explanation, and not nearly enough. You knew she was understanding, patient even, but still… the weight of facing her again gnawed at you.
You squeezed Vi’s hand, needing the anchor, before turning to Caitlyn. “I don’t even know if I should be happy about that or not,” you admitted. “We don’t have the stone anymore, which is bad. But…” you drew in a breath, forcing the words out. “I think we can still build a strong enough case.”
Caitlyn gave a small, determined nod. “There’s enough evidence to pin this on Silco. That should be enough to at least make them listen.”
You wanted to believe her. Truly. But your body was screaming from exhaustion — the kind that went deeper than bone, rooted in sleepless nights, battles, and the constant weight of fear. You sighed, leaning back against the dresser.
“Can we just… rest until then?” Your voice came out softer than intended. “I know I won’t be able to sleep, but at least a hot shower, a change of clothes…” You glanced at Vi, a tired smirk tugging at your lips. “I stink. Badly. And so do you.”
Vi scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Wow. Thanks.” But there was a glimmer of humor in her eyes, something almost normal in the middle of all the chaos.
Caitlyn allowed herself the faintest smile. “I don’t see why not. We have until evening.”
Relief trickled through your veins. Just a moment to breathe, to wash off the weight, to gather strength before the storm tonight.
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The idea of rest didn’t fully settle in until you were outside, slipping past the grand gates of the Kiramman estate.
The air felt different once you stepped into the open streets of Piltover, less suffocating without the weight of her parents’ stares, though the heaviness in your chest remained.
Vi stayed close, her stride steady but slower than usual, shoulders slumping as the adrenaline that had fueled her for hours finally ebbed away. She looked as tired as you felt.
“This way.” you murmured.
The familiar creak of your door felt like an exhale after the suffocating silence. Home smelled faintly of candle wax and dust, but it was warm, familiar—yours.
Vi hovered in the entryway, looking strangely hesitant. You nudged her shoulder. “Come on. You look like you’re about to drop. We’ll clean up, then crash until it’s time.”
Her mouth curved into the ghost of a smile, but she followed without a word.
The bathroom steamed quickly once you twisted the knobs, the pipes groaning before warm water spilled against the tiles. You grabbed two towels, tossing one her way. “You’re up first.”
Vi shook her head stubbornly. “No. You go.”
“Vi,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “You’re half-dead on your feet. Just get in.”
Her jaw flexed like she wanted to argue, but she gave up with a sigh. She tugged off her bandages, wincing when they peeled away from split knuckles. You caught her hand gently, your thumb brushing over the raw skin.
“You’re falling apart,” you whispered.
“Story of my life,” she let out a humorless laugh.
Something tugged inside you then, sharp and insistent. You’d spent years carrying ghosts—her ghost, Powder’s, all the what-ifs. But she was here now. Bruised, tired, broken, yes—but alive. And you didn’t want her to face that weight alone.
So before you could overthink it, you started peeling off your own clothes.
Vi blinked at you. “Uh—what are you—?”
“Relax,” you cut in, stepping past her into the steam. “I’m not letting you stand there by yourself. Not tonight.”
She stared for a long moment, eyes unreadable, before finally following you under the spray.
The water hit hot against your skin, and you let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.
Vi tilted her head back, closing her eyes as the water coursed over her bruises, washing away grime and blood. You reached up without thinking, smoothing damp strands of pink hair away from her face.
Her eyes fluttered open, catching yours, and for a moment the room was silent but for the sound of water rushing around you both.
You let your fingers drag over the tattoo on her neck, your thumb tracing lightly along her pulse point. “You don’t always have to carry it all yourself,” you whispered.
Vi’s throat worked as she swallowed, her hand lifting hesitantly before resting against the small of your back. Her voice was low, rough with something that wasn’t just exhaustion. “I don’t know how not to.”
“Then let me help you.” you said.
She didn’t answer, but she leaned into you. The water ran over both of you, hot enough to sting, but you barely noticed.
Vi’s hand pressed more firmly at the small of your back, anchoring you, like she was afraid you’d slip away if she let go.
Your heart hammered. For a moment, you wondered if you should pull back—remind yourself this was fragile, that Vi was still broken in ways neither of you fully understood. But then her eyes opened, heavy-lidded, searching yours. And all at once, you knew: she needed this as much as you did.
Slowly, carefully, you leaned in, closing the last sliver of space.
Your lips met hers—hesitant at first, like testing whether the world would shatter beneath the weight of it. Vi froze for a heartbeat, her breath catching against your mouth, and then she melted into you, kissing back with a quiet desperation.
The water rushed over your shoulders, beating down like rain, but you hardly felt it. All you felt was Vi—her trembling exhale, the taste of her, the way her fingers curled into your spine like she’d been waiting years to hold you again.
That’s when it all hit you. You pulled away from the kiss, tears already falling down, but the water washed them away. “I thought I lost you.” It came out a broken whisper, like you didn’t have enough strength to say it out loud.
“You didn’t,” Vi said, holding you close. “I’m right here. I swear I’m right here.”
You kissed her again—deeper this time, slow but urgent, like two people afraid the moment might slip through their fingers if they didn’t hold tight enough.
You pressed closer, chest to chest, your hands framing her jaw, tracing the unfamiliar angles of her face. Vi’s lips trembled against yours, but she didn’t pull away. She kissed you harder, her grip tightening at your waist, pulling you flush against her.
The steam wrapped around you both as you moved together, every kiss and every touch weighted with years of absence, of fear, of hope. It wasn’t frantic; it was slow, deliberate, almost reverent. Each brush of skin was a reminder that you had survived—that somehow, against all odds, you had found your way back into each other’s arms.
It felt like being whole again.
──────────────────────
Unfortunately, the fragile bubble you and Vi created was shattered far sooner than either of you wished. Reality waited, cold and merciless—you had to face the council.
With the evidence you carried, you were confident—at least some of them—would listen to what you had to say. But confidence was fragile, and as the three of you walked into the vast council chamber, Caitlyn leading the way with her shoulders squared, you felt the weight of every pair of eyes already waiting for you.
Even with the voices coming from inside, the chamber was oppressive, like the walls were closing in on you. Vi’s hand brushed yours as you followed, a small anchor against the storm of tension pressing down on you.
“It’s not what they offered him,” Caitlyn began, her voice steady, echoing against the walls. “It’s what he had to lose.”
Sharp gazes followed, some curious, some skeptical. Their scrutiny burned against your skin. You weren’t used to being seen—your work was done in shadows, not under the full weight of Piltover’s most powerful.
Mel sat poised beside Jayce, her expression unreadable. The faint tilt of her head could have meant approval, disapproval, or simple calculation—you couldn’t tell. You weren’t sure if she was glad to see you again or disappointed by what you had brought with you.
“Councilors,” Cassandra rose gracefully from her seat, her presence commanding the room. “My daughter has a unique perspective on our situation.”
“Thank you,” Caitlyn said, her tone softened just enough for her mother. Then she straightened, her eyes sweeping over the council. “This is Vi. She was born in the Undercity.”
At the mention of her name, Vi’s hand found yours, her fingers interlocking with yours tightly. She showed nothing on her face, but you could feel her pulse quicken, her nervous energy thrumming like a live wire through her grip.
“Even though we failed her in countless ways,” Caitlyn continued, her voice carrying both weight and conviction, “she risked everything to show me what life is really like down there. With Y/N’s help.”
You swallowed hard and cleared your throat. Speaking here felt like stepping into a pit of knives, but you forced your voice to stay steady.
“People are starving,” you said, your words directed toward Mel—hoping she might take pity on you again, as she once had. “They’re sick. Ravaged by Shimmer. They live in constant fear of the coordinated efforts of violent crime lords.”
Caitlyn nodded, picking up where you left off. “And one man leads these efforts. Silco.”
“We’ve done investigations of Silco,” one of the councilors interrupted, tone clipped, dismissive. “They yielded no such level of organization.”
“And who exactly led those investigations?” Caitlyn countered smoothly, arching a brow.
“What does this Silco even want from us?” Jayce asked, leaning forward, voice tinged with both frustration and fatigue.
“He believes the Undercity should be independent,” you answered firmly, your voice steady despite the storm building in the chamber. “He calls it the Nation of Zaun.”
Jayce’s jaw tightened. He reached under the table, pulled up one of Jinx’s bombs, and placed it on the polished wood with a heavy *clunk*. The sound echoed across the room, a harsh punctuation that sent a ripple of unease through the councilors. Beside you, Vi stiffened, her body taut, ready to spring at the sight of it.
“And what about these?” Jayce demanded, his tone sharp as steel. “Do you know who made them?”
Caitlyn faltered, hesitation flickering across her face. “No—well…” She glanced between you and Vi, her voice trailing off, unsure if she should speak the truth or shield it.
Before she could, Vi stepped forward, her voice steady, cutting through the silence. “Her name is Jinx.”
The name landed like a thunderclap, pulling the air taut.
“This Jinx has the Gemstone?” Jayce pressed. Caitlyn gave a reluctant nod. His hands curled into fists. “Then we have no choice. We’ll have to go in by force.”
“That could trigger war,” Mel interjected, her voice calm but edged with warning, slicing into the heated air like a blade.
“There are good people down there,” you said quickly, words rushing out before anyone else could argue. “People who don’t want violence, who don’t deserve to pay the price for Silco’s ambition.”
“Hmph. Bad ones too,” one councilor muttered, dismissive.
“Even if we wanted to invade, they have Shimmer,” another added.
“We have Hextech,” Jayce countered, slamming his hand on the table for emphasis.
“What happened to you?” Caitlyn asked, her tone sharp with disapproval.
“We’ve been talking about talking for weeks now,” Jayce snapped. His face was flushed with anger, his gestures sharp and impatient. “And they’re still cleaning blood off the bridge!”
Mel leaned on her hands, brows furrowed, her eyes narrowing as she thought deeply. You recognized that look instantly—Mel was calculating, searching every possible angle. The last thing she wanted was war.
“When do we say enough is enough?” Jayce demanded.
“Jayce,” Mel lifted her gaze, her voice calm but carrying a warning edge, “you don’t know war. I do. It must be our last resort. There may still be a diplomatic solution.”
Jayce glanced around the table, searching for support. Some councilors nodded in agreement, others simply grunted, unwilling to commit. His frustration spilled out in a heavy sigh.
Beside you, Vi shifted restlessly, agitation radiating off her. She tore her hand from yours and spoke up, her voice sharp. “What? You want to negotiate with him?”
“It may be the only way to avoid further bloodshed,” Cassandra said from her seat, her tone controlled but firm.
Vi’s composure cracked, anger flashing in her eyes. “This is insane. Did you learn nothing? You can’t talk to him!”
You opened your mouth, wanting to intervene, but the words tangled in your throat. You didn’t know whose side to take. Part of you wanted peace—an end to the bloodshed of people who had nothing to do with Silco’s ambition. But you knew him. You’d known him all your life. Since Vander’s death, Silco had only grown worse, more ruthless. He wasn’t someone you could reason with.
“He hates you. Everything you stand for,” Vi pressed, her voice rising with every word. “He will never back down.”
Mel’s gaze flicked toward you, her eyes silently asking for your insight, your judgment. But before you could find the words, Salo’s voice rang out, dismissive and cold. “Enforcers, please escort them out.”
“Forget it,” Vi spat, her voice harsh with frustration as she shoved past the guards. “I remember where your fancy damn door is.” She stormed out, anger radiating off her in waves.
Caitlyn could only sigh, glancing at her mother with a silent plea, but Cassandra’s expression looked defeated.
You caught Mel’s gaze one last time, searching her face for anything—approval, reassurance, even pity—but her mask gave you nothing. With your heart heavy, you turned and followed Vi.
The moment you stepped outside, the sky opened up, rain pouring down in sheets. The city was bathed in dark blue, the storm pressing down as if the world itself was mocking you, setting the stage for everything that was falling apart.
“Violet! Wait!” you shouted, running after her, the rain plastering your hair to your face. Behind you, you could hear Caitlyn’s hurried steps, but she didn’t try to catch up. She knew you needed the space.
Vi didn’t stop. Even when you called her name again, louder this time, she kept moving, her shoulders squared, anger in every line of her body.
“Stop being stubborn.” You grabbed her arm and tugged, forcing her to face you. “Where are you going?”
She whipped around, fury blazing in her eyes. “I don’t know! Back where I came from? Seems like that’s what everyone up here wants!”
You scoffed, your own anger rising to match hers. “Everyone? Really?”
“Don’t start with this,” she snapped, rolling her eyes. “You know your life was better before I showed up. This is how things are. How they’ve always been.”
“Like what? Miserable?” Your voice cracked, rising above the roar of the rain. “I was miserable up here—without you! And you want to tell me my life was better?”
Her jaw clenched, her voice sharp with bitterness. “Didn’t look so miserable in your fancy house with your councilor friends.” She jerked her head toward the building behind you, her lip curling. “I was so stupid to think this was gonna work.”
“We can come up with a better plan!” you shouted, your voice breaking with desperation. “Something has to work! For them—for us—”
“It’s never gonna work.” Her voice was quieter now, but no less devastating. She couldn’t meet your eyes.
“You’re just saying that.” Your voice dropped, softer, pleading.
“No, I’m telling you the truth.” Vi’s chest heaved with every word, rain running down her face like tears she refused to shed. “This was a mistake. Coming here. Believing they’d ever listen. Believing you and me could—” She cut herself off, shaking her head.
“Don’t,” you begged, voice trembling. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Do yourself a favor,” she said finally, turning her back on you. “Go back to your place… and just forget me, okay?”
You reached out, desperate to hold her, but she pulled away as if your touch burned her.
“Vi—please—”
But she turned and walked into the rain, her figure fading into the blur of the storm, until there was nothing left but the sound of your own breathing and the ache hollowing out your chest. The city blurred around you, the storm mixing with the sobs you could no longer hold back. You sank to your knees, the weight of everything crushing down, your tears indistinguishable from the rain.
hiii, I was just curious how many more chapters you plan on writing for “first love/late spring”, Ik you said something a while back abt it only being 4 chapters and now there’s 6 (not that I’m complaining I love your writing ❤️) I just wanted to know if you know exactly how many parts are left or at least an idea. thanks so much!!!
hii, i have no idea LOL 🥸 but i’m hoping on wrapping it up in 2 more chapters (to match the episodes) at best
i just caught up with first love late spring (great name btw i love that song) and wow i need a moment. i was never that attached to milo and flavor but i am now and it banked me want to rewatch season one to see them again bc they were just kids 😭 but i’m gonna focus on chapter five i guess bc it’s the most recent - holy shit i can’t believe she finally remembered! thank god! i think having her still make passes at caitlyn was the right move, it really upped the angst and also i think made vi feel more in character. as a side thing i thought for a minute when caitlyn was first introduced there would be a three sided love triangle with reader being torn between cait and vi, which would have been a whole other story but i think it wouldn’t really align with the whole idea of vi being r’s first unforgettable love so that wouldn’t make a ton of sense. i also love the characterizing of mel you made where she’s calculating but not cold. overall i’m so excited for the next chapter!
omg!!! okay so, at first watch i wasn’t really attached to them either, but after rewatching it for 5786678 times (and specially season 2) i kept thinking about how vi grew up with them, like they were her siblings just as much as jinx and they died horribly and !!!! yeah i love claggor (don’t like mylo much but he’s just a dude).
and yeah vi didn’t remember reader, caitlyn is hot ofc she was gonna flirt with her lol, i kept that part bc i thought it was funny + it added to the angst. i actually thought about a love triangle for a moment, i kinda wanted reader to “get even” with vi’s flirting but it felt too out of character, since she’s been in love with vi the whole time (even when she thought she was dead), like she literally didn’t move on!!!!!
mel was a tough cookie ngl, i wanted to make them “closer” but i didn’t think it would fit her character, reader was an asset to mel, and she saw a lot of herself in reader so she wouldn’t be cold per say, but definitely not the motherly type
(thank you so much for the ask loved reading your opinion on the fic!!!! 🕺🏻🙂↕️🙂↕️)
summary: y/n rebuilt her life in piltover, burying the trauma—and the love—she lost in the undercity.
but when vi reappears, alive and changed, the memories she buried begin to claw their way back.
some ghosts don't stay dead. and some wounds never heal.
wc: 3k
cw: description of a panic attack
notes: double update to make up for taking so long with the other one and also bc i’ll take even longer (hopefully not) with the next one lmao (my week will be very busy 😭😭😭)
masterlist - part five
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Caitlyn was the first to stir, her low grunts and muttered curses breaking through the muffled haze.
“I knew this was a bad idea,” she groaned, tugging weakly at the ties binding her wrists.
When you came back to yourself, your head throbbing, you let out a dry laugh that held no humor. “I told you not to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Your voice was hoarse, tired. Honestly, you were exhausted with this entire day—it felt like you’d lived a lifetime in less than twenty-four hours.
“I knew we shouldn’t have trusted Vi,” Caitlyn muttered bitterly.
“Oh, this is not on her,” you snapped back. “I told you this was dangerous. You knew what you were walking into when you dragged your ass to Stillwater.”
The three of you were tied against a row of rusted pipes, bags over your heads, the scratchy cloth clinging to your face with every shallow breath. Claustrophobia crawled in your chest like a living thing.
“Why are you defending her?” Caitlyn’s voice was sharp, frustrated. She jerked at her bindings again, the sound of rope straining filling the air. “She’s the one who didn’t tell me her sister was Jinx. And you—” she turned her anger on you now, “you knew.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” You rolled your head back against the pipe with a thud. “Lies of omission are the least of our problems right now.”
As the words left your mouth, a sharp gasp split the silence—followed by a grunt of pain. From behind you.
“Vi!?” You thrashed against your ropes, panic surging in your veins. “Vi, are you okay?”
Caitlyn sighed loudly beside you, exasperation bleeding from her every breath. You could practically feel her eyes rolling through the bag.
After a beat, Vi’s voice came, shaky but trying to sound steady. “Yeah, I’m fine.” It wasn’t convincing. Her tone was too small, too thin, as though even speaking cost her.
“I knew it was a mistake trusting you,” Caitlyn shot, venom in her voice as she struggled with her cuffs again.
“You’ve been a real picnic yourself,” Vi rasped back, and despite everything, she sounded a little more alive—more like her.
“I’m not the one who walked us into two of Silco’s traps,” Caitlyn bit back.
“This isn’t Silco,” you interrupted firmly, sensing where this was heading. The way these people moved, the way they handled you—it didn’t fit Silco’s brand of chaos. It was colder, cleaner. “It’s someone else.”
“How would you know that?” Caitlyn asked, suspicion dripping from her words.
“Because we’d already be dead if it was him,” Vi said flatly.
“Oh, wonderful,” Caitlyn huffed, her sarcasm cutting sharp through the darkness. “And when exactly were you planning to tell me that your lunatic sister works for him?”
You groaned, pinching your eyes shut under the suffocating bag. “Here we go…”
“Just as soon as you came clean about what the hell you’re really doing down here,” Vi shot back, her own sarcasm biting.
“I told you the truth,” Caitlyn said defensively.
“Bullshit,” Vi spat, the word like venom.
“She wasn’t lying, Vi,” you cut in quietly, but with enough steel to be heard. Your wrists burned from twisting against the ropes, raw skin stinging. They’d taken your knife; you were defenseless. All that was left to do was sit there and wait—wait for whatever came next.
“What was that glowing stone?” Vi demanded suddenly.
Caitlyn sighed but didn’t answer.
“That’s what I thought,” Vi muttered darkly.
The pipes around you groaned as metal shifted. A sliver of light leaked through the rough cloth over your head. Shadows moved. Someone was dragging something heavy across the floor.
“What’s going on?” you demanded, voice sharp with fear.
Caitlyn grunted at your side, but before she could answer, Vi’s voice rang out, furious. “Hey! Stop! Get your hands off me!”
“Leave her alone!” you shouted, yanking at your restraints until your wrists screamed in pain. You didn’t care. You couldn’t let them take her again.
“Let me go!” Vi’s voice strained—and then the sound of a heavy door slamming shut cut through the air, leaving the room echoing with silence.
“Vi!” you screamed, your voice breaking as it tore from your throat.
Panic rushed over you in waves. The bag on your head suddenly felt too tight, too heavy—like it was collapsing around your face. Every breath came shallow and ragged, your chest heaving as the edges of your vision darkened.
“Y/N!” Caitlyn’s voice broke through the haze, sharp at first, then softening. “Y/N, listen to me. You need to breathe.”
But you couldn’t. The panic was louder, crashing over her words like waves.
“Y/N, please—focus on my voice.” Her tone wavered, her usual steel cracking under the strain. “Vi’s strong. She’s not gone. She’s… she’s fine. You’ll see her again, I promise.”
Her words barely registered through the suffocating cloth and your hammering heart.
“You can’t promise me that,” you croaked, the words escaping in a trembling whisper. Your eyes were squeezed shut, tears prickling hot behind your lids. Your chest rose and fell too fast, every inhale shallow and sharp like you were drowning inside the bag.
“The three of us—we’re going to get out of this. Together.” Caitlyn’s voice pressed closer, thick with desperation. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re not alone. I’m right here. And Vi—Vi wouldn’t want you to lose yourself like this. You know that.”
You shook your head weakly, breath hitching as panic clawed at you.
“You don’t know that! You don’t know her like I do—you don’t know what they could do to her.” Your voice cracked on the last word, breaking apart.
“Please, Y/N.” Caitlyn’s voice softened, breaking in a way you’d never heard from her before. She was always so composed, so sharp. Now she sounded raw, almost pleading. “Breathe with me. Just… just breathe. For her. For me.”
You felt movement against the pipes, the scrape of metal as Caitlyn dragged herself closer until the warmth of her body pressed against your side. The sudden contact grounded you, a solid weight holding you steady in the storm. If your hands weren’t tied, you would have clung to her just to anchor yourself.
“Focus on me,” she whispered, slowing her own breaths deliberately, letting the rhythm fill the space between you. “In and out. Match me. That’s it… just listen to me.”
You tried. Gods, you tried. Each inhale burned, each exhale shook, but slowly you forced yourself to follow her. You counted in your head, clinging to the sound of her measured breaths and the faint tremor in her voice.
You stayed pressed against each other for what felt like an eternity, until the jagged edges of your panic dulled just enough to let air seep into your lungs.
“Are you better?” Caitlyn asked at last, her voice hushed but steady, still right by your side as though she refused to move until you answered.
“A little…” you whispered back, afraid that if you spoke louder, all the fragile air in your lungs would shatter and leave you gasping again.
“A little is better than nothing.” She let out a small, tired sigh. There was a beat of silence before she added, gently, “For the little I know of Vi, she’s… resilient. Hell, she’s nearly gotten herself killed three times since I’ve met her, and she’s still standing. She’ll be fine.”
Her attempt at comfort made your throat tighten. You wanted to believe her, wanted to hold on to that image of Vi as unbreakable, but the worst-case scenarios still spun relentlessly through your head.
The sound of a door creaking open jolted you like a shock. Dread filled your lungs, undoing what little calm Caitlyn had helped you find.
Footsteps echoed. You heard Caitlyn’s breathing hitch beside you, then a harsh noise.
“What is going on?” you demanded, your voice sharp, desperate. Before you could process it, something hit the floor, followed by the splash of water.
“What have you done with Vi?” Caitlyn demanded, her voice icy steel despite the fear beneath it.
“Can you get this fucking bag off my head?” you cried out, panic surging again. The cloth clung to your damp skin, suffocating you all over again.
“Listen, let her go!” Caitlyn’s voice cracked now, fraying at the edges. “I brought her here. It’s me you want. Leave her out of this!”
“Caitlyn—what is going on?” you asked again, panic bleeding into every syllable. Your throat was tight, air sharp in your lungs. Before she could answer, hands yanked the bag off your head.
Light stabbed at your eyes. You blinked rapidly, adjusting to the sudden brightness, shapes and colors slowly sharpening into focus.
“My hero,” came a playful voice. Your heart lurched before your eyes even found her.
“Vi…”
You turned sharply, but your attention snapped when you saw the boy standing in front of you, the rough cloth that had suffocated you dangling from his hand.
“Ekko?” you breathed, disbelief cutting through the haze.
“You’re—” Caitlyn’s voice faltered in open shock. “But I thought you… I thought they were hurting you!”
“Vi tells me I can trust you.” Ekko’s sharp gaze shifted to Caitlyn, then softened just slightly. “You get a pass back topside. That’s it. No more.” ────────────────────── The transition from the suffocating room to where Ekko had brought you felt unreal, like stepping between worlds. You blinked against the sudden brightness, lungs expanding with air that didn’t smell of mold and rust.
Above you, a massive tree stretched its branches, leaves catching the light in dappled shades of green.
Children darted through the roots, laughter ringing out like music, and birds sang from their perches high above. The air was fresh, alive, carrying the faint sweetness of soil and blossoms.
“It’s beautiful…” Caitlyn whispered under her breath, her eyes wide with awe. For a moment she looked like a child seeing magic for the first time, like she’d stumbled into a fairytale she didn’t quite believe could exist.
You glanced at her, then at Vi. She was close—closer than you’d realized at first, her shoulder brushing yours, her presence buzzing in your chest. But something about her was different. Not wrong… just shifted.
Her body was tense, her posture tight, yet there was a softness in it too, as though she was fighting herself—like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if she should. And the way she looked at you… it wasn’t the indifferent, almost cold distance you had grown used to in the past day or so. No, this gaze was softer, careful, almost fragile. It reminded you of the way she used to look at you.
And suddenly, against all logic, hope bloomed in your chest.
“Can we talk?” she murmured, her fingers brushing your sleeve. The touch was so light it was almost nothing, but to you it felt like fire, pulling every nerve in your body taut.
You swallowed hard, your eyes flicking briefly to Caitlyn and Ekko. They were locked in a heated debate, voices low but sharp, neither willing to bend. You could barely make out the words, but you knew it was probably important. But Vi’s eyes never left you.
The way she looked at you—it ached. It was too familiar, too much like the Vi you remembered.
“Yeah,” you breathed, the word shaky on your lips. You let her tug you gently away.
She led you to a wall painted with faces. Dozens of them. Some you knew instantly—ghosts from your past, friends who never came back. Others you didn’t, but their presence was the same: loss, grief, remembrance etched in every brushstroke. A mural of loss and memory.
Vi stopped there, staring silently. You could see her jaw clench, her hands flexing at her sides as though she didn’t know what to do with them.
“I…” She faltered, lips parting and closing again, nerves written across her face. The last time you saw her this unsure, this nervous, was the night she officially asked you out. That memory hit you like a wave—her shifting from foot to foot, pretending to be cocky, but her eyes giving her away.
The similarity tugged a smile out of you before you could stop it.
“I remember,” she whispered at last, her voice catching like the words had to fight their way free.
Your breath hitched, the air thick in your lungs. For a moment, you didn’t know what to do with yourself—your lips opened and closed soundlessly, and you knew you probably looked ridiculous.
“You… you remember?” Your voice cracked, hope lacing every syllable. A smile broke across your face, unsteady but growing. “Everything?”
She nodded.
You couldn’t stop yourself—you threw yourself into her arms, holding her so tightly you felt the air rush from her chest. She froze for half a second, startled, then wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in like she never wanted to let go.
After a beat, her voice came muffled against your shoulder. “You’re not mad at me?”
You pulled back just enough to cup her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing her cheeks. “Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?”
Her eyes darted away, guilt flickering in them. “I left you alone… and when you finally found me, I treated you like shit. And then—” her jaw tightened— “I flirted with another girl right in front of you.”
You let out a shaky laugh, half exasperated, half relieved. “Oh my god, Violet,” you said, squeezing her face gently so she couldn’t look away. “I could never be mad at you. And you didn’t leave me. You were taken from me.”
Her eyes flicked back to yours, uncertain, searching.
“It’s not your fault” you told her firmly.
She dropped her gaze again, but you wouldn’t let her. You tilted her face back up, forcing her to meet your eyes.
“It’s not your fault” you repeated, this time with a seriousness that left no room for doubt. You knew how much she carried—Powder, the years lost, the guilt of leaving her behind. And you knew if you didn’t stop it now, she’d add you to the endless list of people she thought she’d failed.
“Not then. Not now. Not ever.”
Her eyes shimmered, the tough facade cracking just a little as she let your words sink in.
You lingered in Vi’s embrace a moment longer, reluctant to let go, but reality pressed in around you. The laughter of children echoed faintly, the hum of the Firelights’ sanctuary alive with movement and voices. For a second it felt almost normal, like the world hadn’t fallen apart.
But Vi drew in a sharp breath, pulling herself back together, and you both turned toward the sound of raised voices.
Caitlyn and Ekko stood only a few feet away, tension crackling between them like a live wire. Ekko’s arms were crossed tight over his chest, his stance closed-off, defensive, his expression sharpened into something that looked a lot like contempt. Caitlyn, on the other hand, was holding her ground, her posture rigid, voice calm but edged with urgency—pleading, but refusing to yield.
“You need to let me take that back,” Caitlyn said firmly, her gaze fixed on the blue gemstone in Ekko’s hand. The faint shimmer of the hexstone caught the light, almost taunting in its beauty.
Ekko curled his fingers around it, hiding it from view. “And what exactly is it?” he asked coldly.
“It’s a gemstone,” Caitlyn explained, trying to keep her tone even. “Jinx stole it during the attack. If the Enforcers are escalating, pushing harder into the Undercity, it’s probably because of this.”
You stepped forward before the tension could climb higher, your voice breaking through. “With that stone, anyone with the right knowledge could build hextech. Weapons. Bombs. Things that could level half a district.”
Vi shifted beside you, her voice rougher, steadier. “That’s not power you want floating around down here, Ekko. Not in Powder’s hands. Not in anyone’s.”
Ekko’s jaw tightened, but his eyes flickered with something—hesitation, calculation. “Or,” he countered, “with this, we could actually beat Silco. Turn the tables for once.”
Caitlyn shook her head quickly. “That won’t solve anything.”
“Easy for you to say,” Ekko shot back, his voice rising. “Your people aren’t dying all around you!”
His words landed heavy in the air. And he was right. Caitlyn had never seen the kind of death Ekko had. Neither had you, not really—not like this. You swallowed, the truth of it pressing against your ribs. The last twenty-four hours alone had proven what you had tried so hard not to admit: things had only grown worse since Vander’s death.
“Ekko,” Caitlyn said gently, her tone softening. “It’s wrong what’s been done to you. To all of you. And you’d be well within your rights to keep it—I couldn’t blame you. But if you do, the cycle never ends. You’ll just trade one tyrant for another. Please. Let me help you.”
Ekko’s stare lingered on her, guarded but not as sharp as before. “You got a plan?” he asked after a beat, voice losing some of its bite.
You took a breath and stepped in. “We do. We have a friend on the council. Someone we can actually trust.”
Caitlyn straightened, catching your thread. “Let me take the gemstone to him. He’ll listen. And if he does… your people wouldn’t have to hide anymore. This could change everything.”
Ekko didn’t reply right away. His gaze drifted to the children in the distance, their laughter faint but distinct, cutting through the tension like fragile birdsong. He rubbed his thumb over the gemstone, lost in thought.
Finally, he looked back at the three of you. “One condition,” he said flatly.
“What condition?” Caitlyn asked, her voice low, already bracing for the answer.
Ekko’s eyes narrowed, but there was no hatred there now—only steel. “I’m the one who gives it to them.”
summary: y/n rebuilt her life in piltover, burying the trauma—and the love—she lost in the undercity.
But when vi reappears, alive and changed, the memories she buried begin to claw their way back.
some ghosts don't stay dead. and some wounds never heal.
wc: 1.7k
notes: gonna do a double update 🕺🏻 yaayy
masterlist- part four
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Violet first met you when she was fifteen. At the time, you were just another one of Vander’s people—quiet, reserved, someone who slipped through the crowd like a shadow. To her, you didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary.
But somehow, that changed.
Maybe it was the silence that drew her in—the way you never had to fight for space, never had to raise your voice, yet you were always there. She’d catch herself noticing you in the corner of her vision, leaning against a wall, helping Powder tie her shoelaces, or laughing quietly at one of Mylo’s bad jokes.
And eventually, Vi realized her eyes were always looking for you.
One night, when everyone else was busy planning another run, Vi nudged your shoulder.
“You’re too quiet, y’know that?” she teased, grinning.
You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Is that… a bad thing?”
“Not bad,” she admitted, tilting her head. “Just makes you easy to miss. But… somehow, I never do.”
You gave her that soft, hesitant smile that would stick in her memory far longer than she expected.
That was the beginning. The start of Vi realizing that maybe she didn’t just want to be your friend.
Because with closeness came the instinct to protect. To stand between you and the world. To hold you. To keep you.
And that was dangerous. Because when everything went to hell, it wasn’t just her family she lost.
It was you.
──────────────────────
Vi had gone down first, her head slamming hard against the floor as the explosion ripped the world apart. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was her voice—calling your name, panicked. Then silence.
When she came to, a heavy beam of metal pinned her down. Smoke and fire filled her lungs. She could see Mylo and Claggor’s still bodies nearby. But not yours.
After Vander dragged her out, after she made the mistake she’d regret for the rest of her life—leaving Powder behind—Vi was taken. Stillwater’s walls swallowed her whole.
She never knew if it was the endless fights in prison, the constant blows to her head, or something they did to her there, but the memories began to unravel.
First, small details of that night blurred and slipped away. Then moments before it. Then entire pieces of her life.
Until one day, it was as if a black hole had swallowed part of her. She could feel the weight of something missing—an ache in her chest that screamed there had been someone important, someone she should never have forgotten. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t put a face or name to the feeling.
Just a hollow ache.
But everything shifted the day you and Caitlyn found her.
She didn’t understand it at first. The way you stayed close to walls, keeping yourself small, almost hiding—it sparked something deep inside her. Something familiar.
And the way you looked at her… as if you’d been waiting years just to see her again.
It hurt. A dull, clawing ache in her chest that only sharpened when you spoke to her, when your voice trembled but never wavered, when your eyes lingered on her like she was someone worth saving.
She didn’t have the time or the luxury to dig through the ruins of her stolen memories. Couldn’t afford to figure out why her body seemed to remember you even if her mind didn’t.
She had one goal. Find Powder.
And if that meant using you and Caitlyn to get there, she would. ────────────────────── But the thing about being back in the Undercity was that it didn’t let her forget.
Every narrow street, every creaking metal staircase, every broken sign flickering against the smog felt like a ghost brushing against her.
Shadows of memories she should’ve had clawed at the edges of her mind, slipping just out of reach.
And people noticed.
They stared when they saw her—Vander’s girl, alive after all these years—but the stares always slid past her and landed on you. On the two of you together.
Like you were a pair. Like you were supposed to be seen side by side.
And every time that happened, her head throbbed. A hot, splitting ache that made her press her hand against her temple like she could hold her skull together.
At some point, when the three of you were catching your breath after a run-in with one of Silco’s crews, she said it.
“Y/N.”
The name slipped past her lips before she could stop it. It felt too natural, like it had been carved into her tongue.
Your eyes softened. “You remember?”
She hesitated, jaw tightening. “I… no. I don’t. I just—” she shook her head. “The name, it feels… familiar. Like I should know it. Like I should know you.”
Even when you explained. Quietly. Patiently. How you worked for Vander, how you knew her, Powder, Claggor, and Mylo. How you were there through everything.
Her mind was a blank wall. Nothing but echoes.
She saw the way it hurt you, the way you tried to hide your disappointment behind a tight smile. And Vi felt guilty in a way she couldn’t fight her way out of.
Still, she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t let herself get lost in what she couldn’t remember. She needed to find Powder.
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But of course, it was never going to be that easy.
She found Powder, finally. And five seconds later, someone was already trying to take her away again.
Masked figures dropped from the shadows, moving too fast, surrounding them like wolves. Even with all four of you fighting, it wasn’t enough.
Vi swung until her knuckles split, but her eyes kept darting back to her little sister. To the look in her eyes, the madness in her smile. To what she had become.
She was distracted. Too distracted.
And in the chaos, one of them got her. A sharp crack to the skull, and the world went black.
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You know when you’ve got some old piece of junk that never works right, so you keep smacking it over and over until it finally sputters back to life?
That’s what it felt like.
Apparently, the eighty-three-thousand-and-whatever-th time she got hit in the head was the magic number.
Vi woke up with a sharp gasp, her skull felt like it might split open. Her breath came in shallow, shaky bursts, and then—
The memories hit her.
No, not hers. Yours. The ones she thought were gone forever.
She remembered lying on rooftops beside you, staring at the sky, making up names for constellations. Well—she made them up. You corrected her every time with that patient, teasing voice.
“That’s not even close to Orion, Vi.” And she’d laugh, throwing her arm behind her head, grinning just to hear you sigh and keep correcting her.
She remembered whispering her dream of running away—just you, her, and Powder. The way her chest tightened with hope when you didn’t laugh at the idea. How you had simply turned your face towards her, the moonlight catching in your eyes, and said softly, “If it makes you happy… I’d go anywhere.”
She remembered the way your nose wrinkled when you touched something gross while cleaning up the bar. The dramatic gagging noise you’d make just to make Mylo laugh, even though you were dead serious about hating it. And how she’d step in, roll her eyes, and finish it for you just to stop your complaining.
She remembered you rolling your eyes at the rude customers, muttering curses under your breath just loud enough for you to hear. The way you’d flash her a look across the room, like you two were in on the same secret, like it was always the two of you against the world.
She remembered you pulling at your fingers whenever you were nervous— before Vander gave you a new task, even before small things like meeting new faces. And every single time, without fail, Vi would cover your hands with hers, stilling your fidgeting, grounding you.
She remembered the sound of your laugh—the real one, not the quiet little chuckle you tried to hide, but the one that burst out when Powder did something silly, or when Mylo fell on his ass. The laugh that made her heart stutter, that made her want to keep hearing it forever.
She remembered your voice when you were angry, the way it sharpened, low and steady—not loud like hers. But it always cut deeper.
She remembered your kindness, the way you always made sure Powder ate first, or saved a piece of candy for Claggor, or patched up her bruises after a fight.
She remembered the quiet moments—the late nights when everything was finally still, and you’d lean against her shoulder, eyelids heavy, mumbling half-dreamed thoughts she pretended not to hear.
The fragments kept slamming into her, one after the other—relentless, overwhelming—like her head was a dam that had finally burst.
And then—one memory hit different.
Clear. Bright. Undeniable.
You were sitting cross-legged on the floor of Vi’s room, an old music box playing a song she never cared for.
Powder had dumped a pile of metal scraps between you, somehow convincing you to help her piece together whatever invention she was dreaming up this time.
Vi was leaning against the wall, pretending to rest, but really just watching you instead of helping. You had bandages wrapped clumsily around your finger from nicking yourself on a sharp edge, and Powder was laughing at the exaggerated faces you pulled every time you touched something jagged.
Then you looked up—and smiled at her. Not a quick grin, not a smirk, but one of those soft, unguarded smiles that crinkled the corners of your eyes and sank straight into her chest.
And in that instant, Vi felt it—the shift.
That dizzy, terrifying, exhilarating rush of knowing. She had fallen for you. Completely, hopelessly, and without ever meaning to.
It was the clearest thing she had ever remembered.
And it shattered her.
Because now—sitting there, tied up, broken and bleeding—she realized she had already lost you once. And she couldn’t bear the thought of losing you again.
summary: y/n rebuilt her life in piltover, burying the trauma—and the love—she lost in the undercity.
but when vi reappears, alive and changed, the memories she buried begin to claw their way back.
some ghosts don't stay dead. and some wounds never heal.
wc: 3k
cw: blood and injury
notes: soooooo sorry for the wait i ended up finishing this and was working on a caitlyn fic and 100% forgot to post this 😔 (i also wanted to add a bit more but it would take too long to post lol), hope you enjoy this chapter and i promise ill not take this long to update (you can yell at me in my inbox if i do)
masterlist - part three
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Vi was still bleeding—badly. Even with the makeshift tourniquet you’d tied around her waist, her white shirt was soaked through, the fabric clinging to her side and turning darker with each passing second.
“Silco’s goons aren’t far behind,” Caitlyn said, glancing over her shoulder as she struggled to keep Vi upright. “We have to keep moving.”
Vi let out a strained groan, her face contorted in pain.
“What the hell is that?” she asked, eyes narrowing at the massive, flickering neon-purple sign.
“I have no idea,” you said, breathless, your hands still pressing against her wound, trying to slow the bleeding.
“Never mind. Just—help me to the edge,” she muttered, already trying to shove herself away from you and Caitlyn.
You caught her arm quickly, tightening your grip. “Vi, what are you doing? You can’t just—don’t do something reckle—”
Before you could even finish the sentence, she wrenched herself free and threw her body off the ledge without warning.
“Vi!” you shouted, panic crashing through your chest.
Caitlyn gasped. “Is she out of her mind?!”
You leaned over the edge, eyes searching the darkness. “If that wound doesn’t kill her,” you growled under your breath, “I will.”
You sighed and jumped after her.
“Shit,” Caitlyn hissed, trying to follow close behind as you chased after Vi.
The sound of your landing kicking up dust and grime. You spotted Vi a few feet away, groaning as she tried to hold her side.
You rushed over, dropping beside her. “Are you serious right now? You can barely stand.”
She coughed, clearly in pain but still defiant. “I stood, didn’t I?”
“Barely,” you muttered, looping an arm under her shoulder. “You ever get tired of pulling stupid stunts?”
“Only when they don’t work,” she said through clenched teeth.
Caitlyn joined you, grabbing Vi’s other side. “You're insane,” she said, but she didn’t argue—just helped.
As you steadied Vi, your eyes adjusted to the dim, flickering light of the neon sign. The space ahead opened into a sprawling network of broken-down tents and structures—more like shacks stitched together with metal scraps and tarp. The air was thick with smoke and something sour. You could hear coughing, whimpering, soft, disjointed cries.
People lurked in the shadows. People twisted by shimmer. Forgotten. Abandoned.
“What is this place?” Caitlyn asked, frowning, hand on her flashlight.
“It’s where the kind of people topsiders like you don’t want to know exist,” Vi muttered, her voice faint. “It’s where they all wind up… eventually.”
A man in a hooded cloak reached out toward you, murmuring something you couldn’t understand. Caitlyn flashed her light on him and he flinched, retreating into the shadows.
As the light moved, it revealed others—some disfigured beyond recognition, others just barely hanging on. Limbs trembling. Eyes empty. Broken.
“It wasn’t this big when I was younger,” you said quietly, more to yourself than anyone else.
“There,” Vi whispered, nodding toward what looked like the ruins of a half-collapsed house.
You and Caitlyn guided her over, careful with every step. You laid her down gently, brushing her hair from her forehead. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused. She was slipping.
You looked around the dim room. The walls were scrawled with drawings—familiar patterns, familiar sketches. You didn’t have to say it aloud to recognize Powder’s work. Your heart twisted.
Caitlyn knelt nearby and pulled out a small cloth with her family crest, trying to wipe Vi’s face. Predictably, Vi jerked away.
“I know you’ve got your reservations about me,” Caitlyn said, her voice calm but firm. “But this only works if we can trust each other.”
Vi let out a bitter laugh. “It doesn’t work. It never has. You topsiders always find a way to screw us.”
Caitlyn sighed. “If it helps, I can let her handle it.” She passed you the cloth.
Vi looked at you—just for a second—but didn’t resist as you moved closer.
You knelt beside her, voice low and careful. “She means well, Vi. She’s not like the others. Cut her some slack.”
Vi rolled her eyes but didn’t protest.
She leaned her head back against the wall, jaw tight, breath shallow. The tension in her body was visible—pain radiating through every inch of her.
Caitlyn took a breath and kept her voice steady. “I suppose the topsiders are to blame for every bad thing that’s ever happened to you.”
Vi turned her head slightly, giving her a long, unreadable look. “Not all of them.”
“We’re not monsters,” Caitlyn went on, gentler now. “We’re people. Just like you.”
Vi let out a low, dry chuckle. There was no humor in it. “You don’t know anything about me.”
Her eyes drifted again, no longer looking at either of you. Instead, they settled on something that wasn’t there—something behind the layers of time, buried deep in the ruins of her mind.
Her voice was barely a whisper when she said it. “I shouldn’t have left you.”
You froze.
Not because of the words—but because of how they sounded.
Like a memory clawing its way to the surface.
But you knew it wasn’t for you. She wasn’t here anymore. She was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere before Stillwater. Before she forgot.
Caitlyn, unaware of the weight of those words, replied kindly, “It’s alright. Despite everything… I can tell you have a good heart.”
But Vi didn’t answer. Her gaze was locked on something only she could see, eyes glassy and far away.
You got closer to her again, brushing her blood-stained hair from her forehead. Her skin was cold and clammy, her pulse fluttering beneath your fingertips.
“Vi,” you whispered, trying to ground her. “Hey. Stay with me.”
She didn’t respond. Not really. Her eyes blinked slowly, like she was trying to pull herself back from the edge.
You turned to Caitlyn, heart pounding. “We have to do something. She’s not gonna last much longer like this.”
Your voice cracked—raw and frantic. Caitlyn didn’t just hear the panic in your words. She saw it all over you. In the way your hands trembled. In the way your whole body leaned into Vi like you could hold her soul in place if you tried hard enough.
“She’s the girl, isn’t she?” Caitlyn asked softly, stepping closer. “The one you told me about—the one from your past. The one you couldn’t say the name of.”
You didn’t answer right away. You didn’t have to.
The look on your face said it all. The bruises. The blood. And still, all you could see—all you cared about—was her.
“Yes, she is.” you said finally, voice tight. “I can’t lose her again, Cait. I just got her back.”
Caitlyn nodded, her expression shifting. Understanding blooming behind her eyes.
She picked up her gun, checked the rounds, and swung her bag over her shoulder.
“Stay with her,” she said. “I’ll figure something out.” You watched as she turned and slipped through the broken doorway, vanishing into the shadows.
Then it was just you and Vi.
You looked down at her—the sight before you so different from the Vi you remembered. To you, she had always been invincible. She’d been scared, sure, but that fear had only made her stronger. It’s what made her fight for what she believed in.
But the Vi lying in front of you now looked fragile. Broken.
Carefully, you reached out—your touch featherlight, scared that even the gentlest pressure might shatter what little strength she had left. Your fingers brushed hers, trembling, and then slowly laced together. You held on—for her sake, and for your own.
“Please, don’t leave me again” you whispered.
Whether she heard you or not, you didn’t know.
But her fingers held on to yours.
And you refused to let go.
──────────────────────
Caitlyn was taking what felt like hours. Vi was still unconscious. If not for the occasional twitch of her fingers, you’d start believing the worst. You must’ve checked her pulse a hundred times—your nerves frayed and your stomach turning.
Then finally, Caitlyn burst through the ruined doorway, breathless, clutching a small glowing bottle in her hands.
“I found someone—a guy who said he knew Vi,” she said quickly. “Took me to this doctor, said she helps people down here. She just… handed me this.”
You barely glanced at the bottle before grabbing it. A thick, glowing purple liquid sloshed inside.
“At this point, I’ll try anything.” You knelt by Vi and gently lifted her head, your hand trembling. “Vi? You gotta drink this. Please.”
Carefully, you tipped the bottle to her lips.
Her throat convulsed, then she swallowed.
A second later, her eyes flared bright violet, and she jerked upright with a scream, breathing ragged and panicked.
“Hey—hey! It’s okay,” you said quickly, cradling her face in your hands. “It’s alright. I’m here.”
Her eyes locked with yours, glassy and wide. Her breath slowed—just barely—but the wild look didn’t disappear.
“We need you back on your feet,” Caitlyn said, kneeling beside you. “What was the name Sevika gave you? Jinx?”
The moment Caitlyn spoke the name, the brief calm vanished. Vi’s eyes darted away from yours, hardening.
“Right… Jinx.” Her voice was distant. “How could I forget?”
You could feel her pull away—not only physically, but also emotionally. You hated it.
“We have to be more careful now,” you said, standing with her. “Silco knows we’re close.”
Caitlyn leaned on a cracked piece of the house structure, which creaked loudly under her weight. Her eyes scanned the space for the first time, and her expression shifted.
“You used to live here?” she asked, noting the drawings on the ruined walls. “Who’s Powder?”
Vi exhaled, heavy. “My sister. I thought she was dead. But she’s not. I have to find her.”
“How do you not know if your sister is alive or not?” Caitlyn asked, skeptical.
Vi’s glare shot toward her. “It’s hard to keep tabs on people when you’re locked in a concrete cell.”
Caitlyn didn’t back down. “What, no parents?”
You winced. You loved your friend, but sometimes Caitlyn could be painfully blind to the realities of life outside her bubble.
“Most of us down here don’t have parents,” you said quietly. “Or we lost them too early to remember.”
“Mine were killed by enforcers,” Vi snapped. “You want details?”
Caitlyn gasped, visibly shaken. “I… I didn’t know.”
Before the tension could rise again, a loud metal clang echoed from outside. Vi’s instincts kicked in immediately. She gestured for you both to stay put and moved to the doorway.
You stepped beside her—and that’s when you saw him.
Silco.
“Vander’s prodigy,” he said, eyes narrowing at Vi. Then he spotted you, and his expression twisted further. “And her little girlfriend, too.”
He held up a vial of shimmer, shaking it like bait.
The addicts at his feet swarmed toward him, clawing for the dose. It turned your stomach.
“I’ve regretted that we never had the opportunity to speak,” Silco continued.
Vi turned slightly to you. “Go back inside,” she whispered. Her fists clenched, her eyes locked on him.
“What did you do to my sister?” she demanded.
You grabbed Caitlyn’s arm, pulling her back. “Get ready to run.”
“Her sister?” Caitlyn repeated, stunned.
“I told you. Long story” you muttered, already eyeing the supports of the ruined structure.
Caitlyn didn’t hesitate—she started pushing at a bent metal beam that held part of the house up.
“I know. Long story. Help me knock this down.”
“You talk too much,” Vi growled—then slammed her fist into the beam.
The entire neon sign structure came crashing down in a thunder of glass and metal, sealing off Silco and his men.
And then the three of you ran.
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Your lungs burned as you scrambled over the uneven ruins of the hill, dragging Vi with Caitlyn’s help. You didn’t know exactly where you were going—you just knew you had to keep moving. You ducked through a warren of tunnels and alleys, weaving through the Undercity like ghosts. The air was thick, damp, and metallic with the scent of rust and oil.
Then, without warning, Vi stopped cold.
You followed her gaze—and saw it.
Blue smoke curling lazily into the air.
Her face shifted in a heartbeat—shock, pain… maybe guilt.
“Is that her?” you asked softly.
She didn’t answer.
Before you could say anything else, Caitlyn’s voice cut in, firm but tense. “We need to keep moving.”
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It happened fast.
One second Vi was at your side, the next she was scaling the tower with that reckless strength that always left your stomach in knots.
You were left at the bottom with Caitlyn, staring after her.
“Caitlyn—wait!” you called as she moved towards the top.
She stopped, turning halfway. “What?”
“I know things are… complicated right now,” you said, lowering your voice. “But you need to listen to me.”
She gave a humorless little laugh. “Complicated is an understatement.”
“Then promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
Her brow furrowed. “What does that even mean?”
“It means—just promise me.”
She hesitated, reading the urgency in your eyes. “…Fine. I promise.”
You climbed together, as fast as you could. With each step, the air grew heavier, charged with something you couldn’t name.
And then, you saw them.
Vi. Powder. A gun.
“Who is she?” Jinx asked, eyes wide and wild, her aim swinging toward Caitlyn.
“Who are you?” Caitlyn shot back, voice tight, though you noticed the way her empty hands curled—no rifle to hide behind this time.
You stepped forward, palms slightly raised.
“Y/N…?” Jinx’s voice cracked. The gun lowered a fraction.
“It’s okay, Powder,” you said gently. “She’s a friend.”
Her face twisted like you’d just spat in her drink.
“So Sevika wasn’t lying,” she hissed at Vi. “You’re with an Enforcer?”
“Your sister is Jinx?” Caitlyn’s voice faltered—shock and disbelief bleeding into the words.
“Please,” you whispered to Caitlyn, eyes steady on her. “Remember what you promised.”
“And you knew?” she shot at you, the betrayal sharp.
“We can work this out,” Vi interjected, stepping forward.
“This is a trick!” Jinx snarled, trembling. “You’re playing me!”
“No one’s trying to—” You started.
“I wasn’t talking to you!” Jinx screamed, and the gun swung again.
“Powder, it’s me,” Vi said. “I’m here.”
“Stop calling me that! Powder fell down a well. It’s Jinx now.”
“You’re not a jinx,” Vi said, softer this time, edging closer. “God, I never should’ve—”
“Stop talking to me like I’m a child!”
Now the barrel was aimed straight at Vi’s face.
“Vi!” you blurted, moving forward instinctively, but Caitlyn grabbed your sleeve.
Jinx’s finger hovered over the trigger, trembling but unmoving. Not yet.
“Was that why you came?” she spat, her voice sharp and bitter. “For this stupid stone?”
She tilted her chin toward the hexstone lying near her boot, the light from it flickering faintly against the grime of the floor.
You froze. Of course. You knew she had taken something important—before you left, Mel had been in a state you’d almost never seen her in, pacing like a caged animal, muttering about her plans, about getting it back. But you’d been too distracted to pry. Too distracted by Caitlyn sticking her nose where she shouldn’t.
Vi shook her head, steady but tired. “No. I don’t even know what that is.”
“She didn’t even know you stole it,” you jumped in quickly, desperate to shift Jinx’s glare back toward you, to defuse the fire building in her voice.
“You’re a class act, sister,” Jinx laughed, the sound high-pitched and jagged. Her eyes gleamed dangerously. “Bet you wouldn’t miss her.”
“Powder,” Vi said firmly, voice carrying more steel than plea. She lowered her gun, hand outstretched but careful, almost reverent. “You can shoot me if you want. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m not abandoning you again.”
She took a step closer, reaching for Jinx’s arm.
Jinx flinched hard, like the touch itself was poison.
“Everyone shut up!” she snapped suddenly, eyes darting back and forth, though none of you had said a word. “I need to think!”
The air shifted. That low, buzzing tension that had been simmering beneath everything twisted into something sharper—imminent.
“Did you hear that?” Jinx’s voice pitched higher, alert now, the gun snapping back up into position.
You exhaled harshly under your breath, the exhaustion dragging at your chest. “God, I’m so tired of this day.”
Caitlyn shot you a sharp glance, like she wanted—needed—an explanation. But there wasn’t time.
The first shots cracked through the air, splitting the silence. Masked figures dropped from the rafters like shadows turned solid, their weapons gleaming in the low light.
“Get behind me!” you barked, grabbing Caitlyn by the arm and shoving her backward, instinct cutting through hesitation. With your other hand, you pulled free the knife you kept hidden at your hip.
Her eyes went wide. “Since when do you have that?”
“Later,” you cut in, planting your feet firmly as the chaos descended.
The fight blurred into motion—fists and blades clashing, sparks biting the air, the hot sting of close calls brushing against your skin. You caught glimpses: Vi throwing herself between Jinx and a blade, Jinx firing wildly into the dark, Caitlyn scrambling across the floor.
And then you saw her—Caitlyn, dragging herself toward the hexstone.
You caught her hood and yanked her back hard. “I said get behind me!”
That split second cost you. Something slammed into your ribs with the force of a battering ram, knocking the air out of your lungs and the knife from your hand.
The world spun, dimming at the edges. The last thing you saw before the dark swallowed everything was Vi’s face—contorted in rage and terror—as she screamed her sister’s name.
Then nothing.
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tag list: @riotstemple29 @ellielover69 @autisticratbagtm @alex-thegiraffeboyy @arahiraaai @vxtanne31 @culuvr @luvg1s3l1e
hiii, i was just curious when the last part of “first love/late spring” would come out. i literally neeeeeed the last chapter 🙏
Hii!!! i’ll post it in a couple of hours 😖😖😖 i’m so sorry i 100% forgot i had finished the chapter, it has been sitting in my drafts for a couple of days bc i was writing a caitlyn fic 🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸
i lovelove your works and i hope youre doing well:333
would you pretty please with a cherry on top write hcs for vi x autistic reader?? totally good if not!!
“Vi x autistic reader”
notes: so i recently got diagnosed (which was not a surprise for me, just formality lol), and this request has been sitting in my inbox for a while, but i didn’t think i “deserved” to write it bc idk. anyhow, here it is some headcanons!! (it’s very self indulgent lmao), and also i’m writing this as a high-masking autistic, so obviously not everyone will relate, but I hope it does the experience justice.
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Vi who would absolutely make the first move on you.
At first, she thought you were just shy or socially awkward (which wasn’t entirely wrong), but she slowly realized it was more than that. You weren’t quiet because you had nothing to say—you just didn’t speak unless it was about something that genuinely sparked your interest. And once you did, you lit up in a way that caught her off guard.
Vi who learns about your special interests just to have something to talk about with you.
She’d catch you curled up with one of your favorite manga volumes, nose buried in the pages, completely absorbed.
“So let me get this straight,” she said one day, leaning against the couch arm while you read. “You’ve never actually played volleyball, but you watched and read a whole series about it?”
You didn’t even look up, shrugging with a small smile. “Yes. But it’s not really about volleyball. That’s just the surface.”
She grinned, intrigued. “Then what’s it really about?”
That was all it took—you launched into an explanation, and Vi just listened, secretly proud of herself for unlocking another layer of you.
Vi who lets you ramble about your special interest for hours.
You were sitting cross-legged on the bed, phone in hand, eagerly showing her your collection of characters in your favorite game.
“And you have to build your characters, which is kind of annoying, because I’m way more interested in learning their backstories than farming for artifacts all day,” you rambled, scrolling and tapping.
Vi didn’t say a word at first—just looked at you with that soft, slightly dopey smile she only ever wore around you.
You caught her. “Why are you looking at me like that? Am I annoying you?”
Instead of answering, she leaned in and pressed an exaggeratedly wet kiss to your cheek, making you scrunch your nose.
“No, dummy. You just look really cute when you talk about your nerdy things.”
“It’s not nerdy!” you protested, glaring—but the way your lips curled at the edges gave you away.
Vi who notices the exact moment you start feeling overwhelmed and shields you without making a scene.
At your mutual friend’s party, everything started to pile up. The bass-heavy music rattled through your chest, people’s voices turned into an indistinguishable hum, your jacket clung uncomfortably to your skin, and every brush of someone’s shoulder against yours made you want to cry.
Then Vi was suddenly there, slipping between you and the crowd, a steady wall against the chaos. She didn’t force eye contact, didn’t push you to talk—just held your hand firmly so you’d know she was there.
“Hey,” she murmured gently. “Do you wanna go home?”
Her thumb brushed over your knuckles, grounding you. You squeezed back, a little tighter than usual.
“Alright,” she said immediately, tugging you toward the door without hesitation.
Vi who understands when you need space and never takes it personally.
Back at your place, you crawled under the heaviest duvet you owned, shutting out the world in the dark cocoon of your room.
“Do you want me to stay?” she asked softly from the doorway, voice careful.
You shook your head, offering her a tired but grateful smile.
“Okay, princess,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.”
And she meant it. No guilt trips. No sighs. Just patience.
Vi who memorizes your safe foods and always makes sure they’re stocked in the kitchen.
She’d never tease you for it—never act like it was a hassle. If anything, she made a point of cooking them for you herself, even when she was exhausted, because it was her way of saying I love you without words.
Vi who happily watches the same shows and movies over and over again.
She didn’t care if it was the tenth rewatch. The way you lit up at your favorite scenes, mouthing along to lines you knew by heart, was enough to make every repetition worth it. Sometimes she’d quote along with you just to make you laugh; other times, she’d stay quiet, watching you instead of the screen.
Vi, who thought everything you deemed “odd” about yourself was adorable, and would not trade a life with you for anything in the world.
Without my big nose i just look like some common bitch😒 (b99 reference) + Also I’m pretty sure the person who started this is Lydia from Teen Wolf… I just can’t prove it.
no pressure tags — @wckd-tommy @pho-pho @troddenwingss-11 @chaosverse-mainblog @xxl1ly-1n-ch41n5xx @tbiggestman @ten-rats-in-a-trenchcoat @devoted2dylan @atypeofherb9922 + anyone who pleases!
dailybridgerton
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baratheonpilled
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